Later, she turned her head side to side to loosen the kinks in her neck. The sun hovered above the horizon, and the air was rich with burnt meat aromas. Her stomach growled, and she set aside her knitting. Isaac was God knows where and she was hungry. Even better, any of Patrick’s men had to be better cooks over a campfire than she was.
Rachel slipped into her shoes. Patrick’s men camped out like they did so they couldn’t be in the fort proper. She wandered along the perimeter of Fort Larned to look for them. Her face warmed when realizing she’d stared at the captain to the exclusion of everything else whenever they met. So much so that she couldn’t remember anything about his men.
At last, she found him. Patrick stood with a group of seemingly important men near a campfire. She recognized some of the soldiers sitting nearby and paused. What if he were busy discussing important issues and she intruded? Rachel reached for her apron. She’d worn the cover to protect her good dress.
“Miss Stewart.” Patrick broke away from his group and walked up to her. “Dinner is almost ready.” He glanced around. “Will your brother be joining us?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure.”
He looked in her wagon’s direction. “I see. Anyway, please have a seat and you’ll be served first.”
She did as he suggested, sitting by a young soldier who looked twelve years old. Rachel nodded at him as he stirred the food. “Hello.”
“Hello, ma’am.”
Not quite sure what to say next Rachel sat there, watching everyone. Patrick was the tallest and had the broadest shoulders. His uniform seemed cleaner, and he smiled much more often than anyone else.
“So, ma’am, when are you and the captain getting married?”
She stared at the cook with her heart in her throat. “Married? I, um, we haven’t discussed anything.”
“Oh.”
He continued on without comment. Rachel glanced at Patrick, who was close enough to have heard if he were paying attention. Judging from his bright red face, he had listened to the question. She smiled at the cooking soldier. “I’m sure when the time is right, Captain Sinclair will declare his intentions to any woman lucky enough to have captured his attention. Until then, the rest of us will have to simply make do with waiting.”
She watched him during her reply, and he looked away from her at the end. Rachel glanced around for Isaac, spotting him walking over to the group. He wouldn’t be pleased about the marriage question. To divert the conversation from her to anyone else, she asked, “Were you in the war?”
“Yes, ma’am. The last little bit of it. I helped General Sherman go through Georgia and stop the Rebs.”
He went on about his experiences and Rachel listened with only half an ear. She couldn’t pay full attention when Patrick stood so nearby. Her brother was with the captain and his men as they talked before all of them settled in around her.
Patrick sat on her right and Isaac on her left. Both men were engrossed in reliving past battles. Rachel would prefer to forget the Civil War ever happened and focus on the future. Others obviously disagreed. The young soldier gave her a plate of meat and potatoes, some of the best she’d ever eaten.
The men around her ate and talked as if she wasn’t there. Patrick gave her a glance every so often, and his cook made sure she had plenty to eat. Otherwise, they left her alone. She didn’t like being ignored but did enjoy listening to the stories and laughter. Even Isaac seemed to have a good time.
Patrick smiled at her. “Do you want an extra escort back to your camp?”
“Besides you?” she asked, forgetting about her brother for a moment. “Oh, I mean, yes, if you’re offering.”
“I am.”
“No,” Isaac interrupted. “She’s safe with me. You have more important things to do than hover over civilians who don’t need your help.”
One of Patrick’s eyebrows rose, and Rachel turned to her brother. “Him walking us to our wagon won’t hurt anything.”
“No, he’s right,” Patrick said. “You two are fine on your own. We’ll meet up tomorrow morning anyway.”
“Very well, until tomorrow,” she replied and walked backward until Patrick was out of sight. Isaac had gone on ahead. She hurried to catch up with him. “Why are you being so rude?”
“You need to remember what those animals did to our farm.” He grabbed her upper arm and squeezed until Rachel yelped. He shook her. “They burned everything. Killed our livestock and destroyed or stole our crops. Union soldiers broke our father and killed our mother.”
She wrenched her arm from his grip with a wince. “They’re not all bad. You forget your own time as a Union soldier and Pa’s time as well.”
“I heard what the kid asked you about Sinclair.” He followed as she led the way to their wagon. “Letting him help us is one thing, but marrying one of those bastards is unacceptable.”
With her back to him, she said, “I’m never marrying a soldier because living with you has been trying enough.” Rachel let down the tailgate with a thud. “You’ll need to calm down and understand I’m not marrying anyone.”
She kicked off her shoes. “Besides, Union soldiers can’t be trusted to do the right thing in any circumstances unless they’re you or our father. I couldn’t marry a man I can’t trust.” Rachel glanced at Isaac to see why he was so quiet. Judging by how he stared behind her, she guessed turning around might be a bad idea.
“Miss Stewart, you dropped this before you left our camp.”
Rachel felt the empty space in her apron pocket and winced. She forced herself to face Patrick. Sure enough, he held the envelope from Miss Ellie. “I see. Thank you for returning it to me.” She took the money from him.
“Count it.”
“I’m sure it’s all there.” A metallic taste of fear lingered at the back of her throat. He had an air of quiet fury around him. She gulped. “I trust you.”
“Count it. Every bill,” he growled. “I’m not leaving until you do.”
Chapter Eight
The early morning rustle of the fort waking up stirred Patrick from his sleep. Groggy from a rare good, if unexciting, dream, he rubbed his eyes and sat up. Anger-tinged sadness settled over him like the fog blanketing the dewy grass. Isaac’s comments last night irritated him, but Rachel’s responses had hurt.
He sat up, the straw tick mattress thin under him. A bed beat the ground every time. He began rolling up his bedding before dressing. While he straightened up his area, he grinned. Isaac’s eyes had grown bigger and bigger as Rachel counted. He hadn’t known about the money, apparently, and Patrick would have loved to have been there for the conversation about her deception.
Still, his heart hurt over her thinking he’d steal from anyone, never mind her. Patrick stepped out of the room while the other officers slept. He’d adored Rachel when she sewed for him and more so every time they met. But now? He fastened the last button at the top of his shirt. He still cared for her, but with feelings far more guarded than before her comments.
Lambert snapped to attention as he approached. “Good morning, sir. We’re finishing breakfast and will be ready to go whenever you say.”
His stomach growled. “Save any for me?”
He glanced back at Jenkins, who nodded. Patrick grinned as the cook dished him up a plate. “Thank you. I like Rogers’ cooking better than any mess hall.”
“Good deal, sir. I might not mention your preference to Molly. She’ll come out here to tan your hide personally.”
Patrick chuckled and settled in with his food. He didn’t waste any time eating. “Are the Stewarts ready to go?”
The two men exchanged glances before Lambert said, “We haven’t seen either of them this morning.”
Patrick nodded. They might still be asleep or even gone. Slinking away from embarrassment would be the coward’s way to go. While he didn’t think either Stewart would choose to run and hide, after last night’s accusations he wouldn’t bet on anything with those two. “Very well. I’ll check on th
em myself.”
Jenkins took his plate before Patrick walked away. The newer buildings of Fort Larned glistened in the sunrise. He breathed in deep and enjoyed the crisp air. He’d be happy if Fort Dodge was even half as good as Larned.
The siblings’ wagon lay ahead with no signs of activity. Even the fire was out. As he approached he said, “Mr. Stewart? Miss Stewart? Anyone here?” He walked up to find the horse gone, too. Irritated at the lack of response, he peered into the wagon bed. “Hello?”
Rachel was alone and snuggled in a quilt. She stirred in her sleep with a little snort and his anger melted away. Most of it did, anyway. He still frowned at her harsh words, but looking at her now healed some of the hurt. She smiled while dreaming. He wondered how someone so beautiful could be so mean. He’d never given her one reason to doubt his word and an officer’s word was his bond. Patrick cleared his throat. “Miss Stewart, time to wake up.”
She opened her eyes and sat up with a start. Clutching the quilt to her, she looked around with a groggy expression. “Hmm? Where’s Isaac?”
“I have no idea. I’m not your brother’s keeper,” he said, and she flinched. He ignored the urge to apologize for being rude. “We’re almost ready to go. If you’re still interested in our protection to Fort Dodge, I’d suggest you wake up and find Mr. Stewart.”
“Mm-hmm, I will,” she replied as he turned on his heel and walked away.
She didn’t trust him. He had to remember her feelings and not give in to his. All Patrick wanted to do was crawl into her wagon and hold her until she woke up completely. He shivered, wishing he’d paused long enough to put on his jacket. Otherwise, he’d not need to cuddle her under a warm blanket for the rest of the morning.
Patrick shook his head as if to shake off the desire. Both she and her bitter wretch of a brother were best forgotten the instant they reached Fort Dodge. His irritation went with him to his camp. The men all looked at him but didn’t say a word. They’d taken his statement about appropriate topics to discuss seriously last night. “They’ll either be ready soon, or we’ll leave them behind. Now, is Douglas caring for the stock? I assume he is?”
“Yes, sir,” Jenkins replied while putting out the campfire. “He left right after you did to round up the oxen.”
“Good. Let’s get going.”
***
Rachel’s stomach churned. Patrick was furious, and she couldn’t blame him at all. She’d said ugly things to Isaac about him last night. Things meant to calm and reassure him, not for Patrick to ever hear.
She sighed and crawled out from under her quilt. Time to find Isaac and Bossy, so they weren’t left behind. She put up covers and changed into her everyday dress. By the time she was tying on her apron, she heard what she hoped was her brother and their horse outside.
She peeked out before letting down the tailgate. Her brother stood there, frowning. Rachel hopped to the ground. “Captain Sinclair was here. They’re leaving soon. Are we ready?”
“Not very, but yes. I’ll hitch up Bossy if you make sure everything else is picked up.”
Rachel nodded and rushed around to clean up the area. The lack of coffee disappointed her. Isaac had time to wander around but not fix any for either of them? She’d need to roast beans for chewing on when water was scarce.
Tonight. She’d roast tonight. They didn’t have time for anything at the moment, and Patrick hadn’t mentioned which route they’d be taking, wet or dry. One way, they’d follow the Arkansas River. The other, they’d be riding over barren land.
Rachel grabbed their coffee pot and pickle jar before heading for the Pawnee. She wandered upstream a little way for the clearest water. Just as her jar finished filling, a low whistle rolled over the prairie to her. She hurried across to their wagon to find Isaac already seated. He barely waited until she was inside before starting off.
She secured the water and climbed her way to the front to sit. They rolled on for a few miles without talking. She glanced over at him. He seemed a lot more awake than she felt at the moment. But then the fuss yesterday hadn’t gnawed at him like it had her.
“Looks like we’re going the dry route,” Isaac said.
Rachel nodded and reached behind for her guidebook. “I wondered if we might.”
“We’ll need to think of Bossy.”
“I filled the pickle jar for her.”
“And the coffee?” Isaac asked. “I saw you carried it, too.”
“Yes, that too.” She thumbed through her guide and stopped on the part about finding water. The smooth road let her read while moving. Rachel finished the chapter and reread the part about fixing broken wagon wheels by the time the group stopped at noon.
She looked all around as if waking up from a dream. Like the guide suggested, they had advance and rear guards. Soldiers kept a watch over the group. They’d trade off, she noticed, but never found Captain Sinclair among them.
Isaac followed the others and eased their wagon to a stop. “I don’t think we have time for cooking.”
“Probably not.” She crept back into the wagon while he unhooked a wash pan. “We didn’t eat the dinner I had planned for last night, so it can be a lunch today.”
“Let me guess, biscuits?”
“Smart man! Yes.”
His face appeared at the wagon’s back opening, and he grabbed the pickle jar. “At least you’re getting better at cooking them.”
“And throwing them when you sass me.”
He gave her a rare smile before disappearing to provide Bossy a drink. Rachel unwrapped the food. The biscuits were dry, but then so was everything out here. She put away the extra before bringing the bread and several dried apple slices up front.
Isaac glanced up at her. “Do you want a drink before I put back the water?”
“Yes, please.”
He drank first, leaving more than plenty for her. After she had her fill, she gave the half-empty jar back to him. “Thank you. Your lunch is ready when you are.”
A whistle sounded, and he said, “I guess I’m ready now.” He rushed to put away the pan and jar. He rejoined her just in time to begin rolling with the troops. They ate, and when he’d swallowed his last bite Isaac said, “When were you going to tell me about the money?”
“Later, when we were closer to Santa Fe.”
“So, you trust me as much as you do that captain, hmm?”
“I trust both of you,” she began, and his scoff interrupted her for a moment. “I do, and you know it. I just liked having the money on me.”
“Oh, I’m sure. You liked having all the money and keeping it for yourself.”
“I was going to share with you.”
“When? At Santa Fe? We could have used the money at Larned for our wheel.” He glared at her. “Or did you plan on running off with Captain Pretty Pants, leaving me alone in New Mexico?”
Her mouth dropped open, and if she weren’t so enraged, she’d laugh at his mocking of Patrick. “You don’t know what it was like during the war. The farm was gone. Do you know what that means? Ma and I were on the streets, and if not for Miss Ellie taking us in I’d have been there when you came back.”
She shook her head before he could rebut. “No, let me tell you how horrible it was for us. We had to camp out along the river for weeks before finding Miss Ellie.” Rachel waved her arms at the wagon. “All this we have now is luxury compared to what we had along the Missouri River. Miss Ellie gave us a home even after Ma became ill. She could have turned us out, afraid of getting sick herself.”
Rachel blinked away the tears and wiped her cheeks. “I know the war was hell for you and Pa, and I’m sorry. But we suffered, too.” She ignored memories of holding her mother’s hand until her fingers grew cold. “I just wanted the satisfaction of having some sort of means to care for myself, is all. I wanted a little bit of security of my own.”
She sniffed and looked at him. “You have to know I would always share what I have with you. This time, I just wanted to feel safe.”
<
br /> He put his arm around her and held her close while she sobbed. When she quieted, he said, “I’m sorry, truly I am, and I do understand. Our world was quicksand for too long. I need to realize I’m not the only one still feeling the effects.”
She let him hold her for a while as they rolled onward. Soon, she stopped sniffling and sat upright. “I suppose I could read a little of the guidebook. See what sort of emergencies we might encounter.”
“Might as well. The road here is a lot smoother than I’d expected.”
Rachel smiled and fished her book out of her apron pocket. Every time she reread a chapter, she’d learned something missed in a time or two before. She kept one eye out for Patrick but never saw him. Her heart ached over the expression on his face this morning. He’d alternated between his usual affectionate look and a newly formed, irritated one.
“I don’t know why you care about the man,” Isaac offered. “After Fort Dodge, you’ll probably never see him again. Focus on Santa Fe, because that’s where our future lies. Not with some wandering army captain.”
She hated how he always seemed to know her thoughts. Rachel nodded and stared out at the flat land around them. The harsh wind was constant. She let it be the excuse to not answer back. The truth was, she didn’t want to argue with him about anything concerning Patrick. The loss of his friendship was too new a wound.
The day wore on until, at last, they stopped at a rare clump of trees. The wind blew strong still. She hopped down from the seat, her legs stiff from inactivity.
“Ma’am?”
One of the younger soldiers stood at her side. Rachel smiled at him. “Yes?”
“Captain Sinclair wanted me to let you know there will be no campfires until after dark.”
She glanced at Isaac, who nodded. “Of course. We’ll wait until then.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He tipped his hat and continued on to the next wagon.
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