After The Lies

by Mandessa Selby

  Luc had to think about that. “What would a spy gain from his betrayal?”

  “I don’t know. What can the Comanche pay him?”

  “The Comanche doesn’t want anything from the white man except guns. But they can sell guns for money. So someone has money to pay the spy.”

  “Who wants money?” The first name that popped into Luc’s was Reggie whose family was in such desperate need, but would Reggie lower himself. Would Reggie’s greed be more than his pride. Reggie’s family heritage was a source of pride and betrayal didn’t fit with his Boston superiority for the under-classes.

  Lieutenant Cox knocked at the door. Luc motioned him to enter. He entered carrying a dispatch bag. He saluted. “General, our daily dispatch is here. The messenger wants to know if you have anything to send back to headquarters.”

  “Not today,” Hammond declared. He thanked the Lieutenant as Cox hefted the bag on the desk. Cox smartly saluted the General and was given leave to depart.

  Luc’s mind wandered down the list of officers. Lieutenant Rippy had a wife and two children to support, yet they seemed quite comfortable on what they had. The children weren’t going barefoot and Rippy’s wife was good with a needle and did sewing for the other wives. Though Esme commented that gossip suggested Rippy’s wife was having an affair with a rancher in the area, Luc didn’t know when the hard-working woman would have time for an affair. She seemed quite happy with her husband and family.

  Lieutenant Magill was new on the post. He’d only been transferred four months ago. He had a mistress in Eagle Pass. Luc had seen the woman. She was looker with a fondness for pretty clothes, expensive jewelry, and big floppy hats. He’d been at headquarters before being posted to Fort Duncan. He could already have been working as a traitor before his transfer here.

  Lieutenant Cox was the youngest and most junior officer. A graduate

  of West Point, he seemed to enjoy what he did and didn’t appear to mind much that he made so little money. Despite the Major’s daughter aggressively tossing her hat at him, he seemed content to remain single, in no hurry to take on the responsibility of a wife and family.

  And of course, there was always Reggie. As much as Luc’s mind shied away from considering Reggie, he had to be objective despite his long friendship. Reggie needed money to support his mother and sisters who had an upper class life-style and were not too accepting of their newly acquired poverty. But Reggie was Luc’s friend, and they’d been through a lot together during the war. Luc just didn’t think Reggie would sell his loyalty so easily.

  They had to flush the traitor out and he tried to think what he could do. “What would happen,” Luc said, “if we planted false information? Something that would be of interest to the Indians and that the traitor would want them to have.”

  “What kind of false information?”

  “A change in the supply routes again. Or an unscheduled shipment of guns or gold bullion.” Luc studied the dispatch bag. “You receive dispatches daily. So you would be informed immediately of supply trains. We could use that to set something up and see who takes the bait.”

  Hammond nodded. “I like the gun idea. Either that or we have a witch hunt. Glad I thought of that.”

  Luc hid a grin. The General was the General. If Luc could supply him with the spy, he’d retire in glory and show his gratitude.

  “Pull this off, Delacroix,” the General said, “and there is nothing the army won’t do for you. You do know you’re being groomed for bigger and better things. You have friends in high places.”

  For a second Luc was pleased the army had such faith in his leadership abilities. But he wondered if he wanted those bigger and better things. He wondered if the army would feel the same way if they knew about his heritage.

  Since Callie had come into his life, he didn’t know what he wanted anymore. If he stayed in the army, he wouldn’t be able to keep Callie. And having her in his life had become of utmost importance. To be with Callie, he needed to be honest. The idea of resigning popped into his mind, but he immediately recoiled from it. He couldn’t give up the life he’d worked so hard to create. He had to find another way.

  * * *

  Evening shadows lengthened across the ground. With evening mess shading the main corral. As the post slowly calmed down for the night, he puffed his cigar. The General had decided on a two-fold plan and was currently implementing with the help of Esme. Luc turned the plan over and over in his mind rooting for defects. There were always flaws and his job was to spot them and call them to the General’s attention. Plans could always awry, no matter how careful the planning.

  A rustle sounded at the edge of the stand of trees. Luc saw Callie watching him, poised as though ready to flee should he not want her. He nodded and she approached to sit next to him, perching lightly on the log. He inhaled the sweet fragrance of her hair pushed up beneath the brim of her wide hat. In her over-sized man’s clothes she looked like a child playing grown-up.

  Each time he saw her, he marveled that she hid her identity to easily.

  No hint of the sweet young woman he’d discovered in New Orleans could be detected. She had turned back into a soldier like a chameleon changed its color depending on its location.

  “There’s a spy at Fort Duncan,” Luc said to her. “Someone who’s selling confidential information to the Comanche.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Who would do such a thing?”

  Luc shrugged. “I’ve been assigned the task of finding out.”

  A thoughtful look came over her face. She seemed to be thinking about something. “The night the General and Esme arrived, I saw a soldier sneaking away from the Fort. I was curious and followed him. He took off for the stream.” She pointed.

  Luc felt a stirring of excitement. “Who was it?”

  Callie shook her head. “I don’t know. Never got a good look at his face.”

  “It was a man.”

  “Yes, sir,” Callie replied calmly as though she didn’t know she’d just handed him a bomb.

  “Could you tell if he was an officer, or an enlisted man.” A shiver of excitement slipped through him.

  “I couldn’t tell if he was black or white.”

  “You didn’t think to say anything.”

  She frowned at Luc. “You’re out here by yourself. I just thought someone needed to be alone for awhile. There was a lot of big things happening that day. I know I need to get away sometimes.”

  “If you thought he just needed to get away, why follow?”

  “I don’t know. Something didn’t feel right, but afterward I forgot about it.”

  Luc stood. “Can you show me where this person went?”

  Callie jumped up and led the way along the path of the stream. Overhead birds chirped as they settled in for the night and a rabbit, flushed by their passage, hopped into a thicket of mesquite. At a small clearing shaded by spreading live oaks with thick vegetation and underbrush beneath the spreading arms, Callie showed him a rotted log laying half in and half out of the stream. “Put his hand in here, but I couldn’t tell what he was looking for.” She suddenly thumped the log. “Just checking for snakes.” When she was satisfied nothing reptilian hid within, Callie moved toward the end of the log and watched him.

  Luc knelt down and stared into the shadowed interior of the rotting log. He shoved his hand inside and felt around, but couldn’t feel anything that didn’t belong there. When he looked up, he found Callie with her hand out-stretched. “What is this?”

  “I found this.” In the palm of her hand rested a shiny gold button that caught the dying light of the sun.

  He didn’t scold her for not giving it to him sooner. She hadn’t known the importance of her find, and earlier it wouldn’t have meant anything even to him. Luc took the button, studying it. The button could have come from any uniform. Not much evidence, but it did prove the spy was at Fort Duncan. He pocketed the button. Once the traitor was exposed, maybe Luc should think more deeply about his future. He co
uld angle for a transfer back to Washington D.C. and set Callie up in a little apartment in Arlington.

  Or they could just leave. Maybe he could talk her into running away to Paris! They could live openly in there. Luc a little apartment in the city. “Come away with me to Paris.” Luc touched her arm.

  She stared at him in surprise. “Are you loco? What would someone like me do in Paris. Paris is for ladies. I’m not a lady.”

  She was adorable in her indignation. “You could be a lady.”

  Callie snorted and said, “How would I become a lady? I don’t have any schooling and I can barely be bothered to wear a dress.”

  “I could teach you.” The idea appealed to him. “A lady isn’t always something a woman is born to. It’s something a woman usually learns.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to be a lady. I’d have to wear a dress all the time and learn to use the right fork.”

  Luc stood and brushed dirt from his knees. “I thought you admired Esme.”

  “Esme isn’t really a lady. She only pretends to be one to get what she wants.”

  If Esme knew how well Callie understood her, she’d change all her tactics and Luc would have to relearn how to deal with his adorable sister whom he loved so dearly.

  “Besides,” Callie continued, “I have my family, my tribe to take care of.” Her voice softened and drifted away.

  “I have enough money for everyone.” He could buy her tribe all the land they needed to make a new start. Not in France, surely, but someplace else, where they would feel they belonged.

  Callie shook her head. “My people wouldn’t fit in Paris.”

  Luc laughed. “That wasn’t what I meant. I can buy their land and you wouldn’t have to work so hard to satisfy so many other people’s dreams. You could have a life of your own. You deserve to have one.

  “My tribe is my life.”

  Of course, it was. She wouldn’t be Callie if she didn’t believe in herself.

  “I love you.” The words sipped out and Luc couldn’t believe what he’d just said. He was so surprised he dropped his cigar and then bent to pick it up again.

  “No,” Callie said, “you just think you love me because I’m different. Away from here, I’d simply be another woman.”

  Luc protested. “You would never be ‘another woman’ anywhere.” She was a refreshing breath of air in his life.

  “How can you be honest with me when you can’t be honest with yourself?” She turned and walked away.

  Luc watched her go. He had no answer. Her words shook him to the core.

  * * *

  Esme dimpled flirtatiously at Lieutenant Cox as he passed her. He smiled at her with the foolish smile men seemed to develop when a pretty woman showed interest in them. Not that she was interested in this man, but in what he might know.

  Her heart pounded with excitement. She had a mission. General Hammond had told her he had total faith in her. Esme would not fail.

  Cox hesitated at the sight of her. She crooked her finger and he stumbled over his feet in his eager haste to get to her.

  “Miss Esme, what can I do for you?”

  The puppy look of adoration on his face told her he would do anything. She patted the empty space on the double swing hanging from the porch roof in front of the mess hall. From inside came the sounds of the cooks getting ready for dinner.

  “I’ve been feeling so lonely,” Esme pouted, “Won’t you sit with me for a moment. Please.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “I won’t keep you from your duties for too long.”

  Lieutenant Cox sat down next to her. Despite his age, he blushed like a school boy. All in all, he was attractive. A little rough around the edges, but nothing an attentive wife wouldn’t smooth out of him. She remembered that his family harvested maple syrup in Vermont and that he was anxious to prove himself as capable as any battled-scarred soldier. He’d missed the war by a year, being too young.

  Esme placed a hand on his arm. “I appreciate all those very nice things you’ve done for me. Taking me to Eagle’s Pass and helping me get supplies for my school. It’s going very well and I was hoping to show my appreciation.”

  “How?” he asked bluntly. Then he blushed again and glanced away in embarrassment.

  Esme laughed. “You farm boys are so eager. As much as I might enjoy your company, a woman demands to be wooed.”

  “How would I go about that?”

  Esme sighed. “Pretty words. Women adore pretty words, especially when they are written on paper and we can keep them next to our hearts forever.” She clasped her hands over her breasts and fluttered her eyelashes at him. Men were so simple.

  He shook his head. “I’m not a poet, Miss Esme. I can barely find the

  words to write reports.”

  Esme patted the back of his hand. “You don’t need to be a poet. Your words just need to be passionate and true. I can tell you are a passionate man.” She handed him a pad of paper and a pencil. “Let me help you. Just a few short words. In Japan, a form of poetry has just a few words. I believe it is called haiku.”

  He leaned over the paper and wet the tip of the pencil with his tongue. “Like I said before, I don’t know any pretty words. Not the words that would do justice to a beautiful woman like you.”

  Esme could tell he wanted deeply to impress her. “You’ll do fine.

  Make it up.” She leaned toward him and pursed her lips. He blushed again, the red creeping toward his ears.

  When he finished the poem, she kissed him lightly on the cheek and sent him on his way. She folded the paper and slipped it into her drawing box and sighed. Men were so predictable.

  * * *

  Lieutenant Magill was busy. He sat at his desk reading something and making notes on a slip of paper.

  But Esme persisted. “Come for a walk with me.” She pushed out her bottom lip and pouted. She tapped him on the wrist with her fan. “Please. It’s a pretty day and I’m lonely.”

  The young officer stared at her as though she were icing on a cake. “But I have work to do.” He glanced at the stack of paper of his desk, even though his blue eyes betrayed his eagerness. “Your brother will be upset with me if I don’t complete these requisitions. You should know the army runs on paperwork. I sometimes feel like I’m drowning in it.”

  “I shall speak to Luc about working you so hard.” One of the things about American men Esme adored. They weren’t game players like Frenchmen. If they desired a woman, they made their desire plainly known, taking a lot of the guess work out of seduction.

  He glanced at the paperwork on his desk. “I don’t think I should.”

  “Then I will extract from you a promise, in writing, that you will walk with me this evening, under the cottonwoods.” She pushed a piece of paper at him. “I will dictate it.”

  This was much too easy. Luc would be pleased with the results, but she was already bored with all her manipulations. Maybe Lieutenant Rippy would provide her with more of a challenge. After all, he was married.

  * * *

  Lt. Rippy stood on the porch of the post store. He wiped his face with a white handkerchief which he folded neatly and returned to his pocket. “How can I help you, Miss Esme.” He wasn’t falling for her charm. He was polite because she was his superior’s sister, but he wasn’t interested in her flirting. In fact, he looked slightly alarmed, as though he expected his wife to come darting around the corner and catch him in an indiscretion.

  “I know London, Paris, Rome, but I don’t know the United States.” Esme fluttered her eyelashes at him, but he was immune to her manipulative flattery. “If you could write down all the state capitols for me, I and my students will be eternally grateful.”

  He looked almost relieved that he wasn’t being tempted into something he didn’t want to do. He was a man loyal to his wife and family. She wondered if he knew how unfaithful his wife was. Though she had no particular proof that the woman was straying.

  Life on a military reservation was a mi
crocosm of society. They had their own pecking order, their own gossip mill. Nothing went unseen, or was unknown. The mostly carefully guarded secrets had a way of being discovered.

  Esme was most curious about a peculiar custom called ranking out. When a new officer and his family arrived, they took their position in the line of quarters according to their position in the official hierarchy of the post, which mean anyone occupying those quarters had to move down to the next set of quarters and anyone living in those quarters had to move until the whole line of officers and their families moved down. Mrs. Rippy had once complained that they had to move into a sod hut when she had first been married and her husband was the lowest man in the ranks. She had told Esme of the mushrooms that grew up through the floor planks and the small black and yellow striped snake that had lived in the wall and curled up on her parlor chair as though coming for a friendly visit.

  Lieutenant Rippy took the pad of paper and the pencil. He leaned against a post as he quickly wrote down the states and their capitols.

  * * *

  Esme practically danced with excitement. She had Reggie Cooper left to do. She tracked him down to his office. He sat at his desk, feet up on the surface of the desk, smoking a cigar. Smoke swirled around his head and he appeared to savor the fragrant tobacco.

  “Luc tells me,” Esme said with a girlish giggle, “that your penmanship is absolutely exquisite. I would like a sample to show to my students. They must understand how beautiful cursive writing can be. Unfortunately, Luc and I are sadly lacking in that talent.” She let her shoulders droop and dazzled Reggie with a smile that sent his feet off the desk and the cigar on the ground.

  “My pleasure,” Reggie Cooper said with an expansive gesture. “But as payment for my help, you must go riding with me.”

  “That’s not a payment,” Esme giggled, “but a pleasure.”