“Wonderful, Hank,” Rebecca said, grabbing up an empty pan and holding it out so she wouldn’t have to touch them.
He wiped his hands on his pants. “I’m curing the skins,” he said.
She nodded, carrying the pan to a corner of the tent where she wouldn’t have to look at it. She used to think hunting was so much fun.
“Might I have a dancing lesson now?”
“Yes, of course,” she said, brightening. It was a perfect time. There was no danger of Clark interrupting them. She filled a basin with water and brought soap so Hank could wash. In a few minutes they had the table and chairs moved out of the way.
She stood in the middle of the tent and motioned Hank forward. He turned shy.
“Maybe you could just tell me how to do it.”
Rebecca laughed. “I can tell you this, you can’t dance with a girl without touching her. Come here.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He shuffled forward.
Rebecca spent an hour with Hank learning just how stiff and awkward a boy could be. When she didn’t think her toes could stand another moment, she ended the lesson and sent him home. After soaking her bruised feet in cold water for a few minutes, she retrieved the pan with the rabbits and went to her father’s tent.
She found Malone outside frying salt pork. “Will ye be joinin’ the colonel’s family for lunch, Mrs. Forrester?”
“I didn’t realize it was noon,” she said. “I brought some rabbits for supper.”
He took the pan and grinned at her. “I suppose ye’ll be wantin’ a fine Irish stew.”
She gave him a little curtsey. “That I would,” she said with a touch of his accent. “Is the family inside?”
“I’d show ye in, but I reckon ye can find yer own way.”
Alicia had heard her voice and came to the entrance to greet her with a hug. They moved farther into the tent arm in arm.
“Why aren’t you home fixing lunch for your husband?” Aunt Belle asked.
“Clark’s gone,” Rebecca said.
“Gone? He’s left you already.”
“No.” Leave it to Aunt Belle to think the worst. “He’s left the fort. He’s leading a troop of soldiers out to look for Indians.”
Belle grunted as if that were merely an excuse. “I suppose you want to eat with us, then.”
“Malone has already invited me,” she said
Belle’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know our Paddy?”
Rebecca didn’t want to give away Malone’s secret “I met him yesterday,” she said. “You should call him Malone.”
“He’s a servant. I’ll call him Paddy.” Belle took up the sewing she had set aside, dismissing the conversation.
Rebecca exchanged a smile with Alicia. She knew, even if the others didn’t, what her father would say about that. “He’s a soldier, still,” she said, but Belle only shrugged.
“Is Father coming home for lunch?” Rebecca asked Alicia.
“I believe so. Come, let me show you what I’m making.” Alicia led Rebecca out to the other tent. Inside she whispered, “How is everything? Rebecca, I still can’t believe you’re really married.”
“Neither can I,” she murmured. Seeing the concern on her cousin’s face, she smiled. “Everything’s just fine. He’s really very sweet. And I’m going to surprise everyone and turn into a perfect housewife.”
Alicia’s look turned skeptical. “Don’t change so much we don’t know you.”
Rebecca laughed. “It is a strain, I’ll admit, but I have a couple of days before I have to come up with another fancy meal. Which isn’t easy out here, by the way.”
“But everything is all right? The lieutenant makes you happy?”
Alicia was watching her closely. Rebecca found she couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “Everything’s fine,” she said again. “Now quick, show me what you’re making in case your mother mentions it. I hear Father coming.”
A moment later, they returned to the other tent. The colonel didn’t appear surprised to see Rebecca. She assumed Belle had already informed him of her presence. An additional place had been set at the table.
“Well, Mrs. Forrester,” he said by way of a greeting. “You look none the worse for wear.”
“Levi!” admonished his sister. “What a thing to say.”
The colonel only grinned. Rebecca had the sudden realization that he liked to shock Aunt Belle as much as she did.
“Speaking of which,” she said, matching her father’s grin, “did you have to send my husband away so soon after the wedding?”
The colonel frowned. “He volunteered,” he said.
“Volunteered?” The word didn’t seem to make sense.
The colonel nodded. “Ah, here’s dinner. Let’s sit down.”
He led a quick blessing, and the food was passed. Levi and Belle had a brief discussion on the use of the striker’s first name, though Malone swore he hadn’t taken offense. Very little of it got through to Rebecca’s one-track mind. Volunteered? He wanted to get away from her?
“You’re not eating, Rebecca,” her father said.
“What? Oh. I fixed such a big breakfast, I’m really not hungry.” How easily the lies tripped off her tongue.
“Could it be a guilty conscience that’s killed your appetite?”
She tried to laugh. “What are you talking about?”
Her father leveled a glare at her. “I’m talking about a new husband that willingly leaves his wife after only two nights. Have you denied him his marital rights?”
“Levi!” Belle leaned back in her chair, fanning her hot face with her napkin. “If this is the kind of conversation you’ve always had with your daughter, it’s no wonder she’s turned into such a…a…Oh!”
Levi ignored his sister. “Rebecca?”
Rebecca glanced around the table. Alicia stared wide-eyed, almost as horrified as her mother. Rebecca turned back to her father. We trapped poor Clark into this, you and I, she thought. But she wasn’t sure she was up to that much honesty. Perhaps she simply wasn’t used to honesty, at least not with her father.
She forced a smile. It wasn’t so hard. She had had plenty of practice. “Don’t be silly, Father,” she said. “I haven’t denied him anything. Perhaps he wanted a—rest.”
There was another gasp from Belle, but neither Rebecca nor her father spared her a glance. She would have to swoon to get their attention, which was a real possibility. But for now Rebecca and her father stared at one another.
Finally the colonel nodded. “Don’t mess this up, daughter.”
“I’ll try not to,” she said with complete sincerity. “If you’ll excuse me.” She shared her smile with the women at the table. “I think I’ll go home and—take a nap.”
Aunt Belle groaned. Rebecca didn’t wait to see if she actually fainted. She left the tent and hurried to her own. Inside, she lowered the flap, casting the small space in shadows. She slipped behind the canvas curtain and sank onto the bed. She wanted to give in to tears, but what good would that do? She needed a plan.
Ironically, the only thing she did well was tempt and tease. Clark had already seen all her tricks and knew them for what they were. If she greeted him with a sultry smile and told him she had missed him, he wouldn’t believe she was sincere. In fact, he would probably assume she had been practicing the same flirtation on other men while he was gone.
There had to be another way. Could she pretend to be deathly ill? Would he realize her value if he were about to lose her? What if she tried to make him jealous?
She threw herself backward onto the bed with a groan. Did her mind only understand subterfuge? Wasn’t there an honest way to win a man?
She had already tried the only way she could think of, and it had failed. Or perhaps it simply took more time than she had given it. A cheerful, hardworking wife would ease the burdens of his life. Maybe it took years for gratitude to turn to love.
She rolled over and stifled a groan against the quilt. Years. And it was working so well so far that he had a
ctually volunteered for patrol to get away from her.
She rolled back to a sitting position, her optimistic nature usurping her spell of fatalism. He was her husband. She loved him. She would think of something.
An hour later, Malone came to her tent. “Afternoon, Mrs. Forrester,” he said slightly louder than was necessary. “‘Tis just me stoppin’ by to deliver a message to me employer’s daughter.”
“Thank you so much, Mr. Malone,” she responded, taking the stack of blank writing paper he extended to her.
He looked to his right and left then slipped into the tent and lowered the flap. “Ye understand there’s no message from the colonel. Just guardin’ me secret.”
“I understand.” She lit a lamp and sat it on the table, taking a seat. “Sit down, Mr. Malone.”
He did, after lowering the flame in the lamp a bit. “We’ll be castin’ shadows,” he whispered.
Malone’s very acts of secrecy were going to make things look even worse if they happened to be discovered. Still she could understand his feelings.
“Who are we writing to?” she asked, settling in for the task.
Thirty minutes later she had folded and sealed the letter, addressing it to New York. “I thought I’d be sending it to Ireland,” she said.
“All me family’s in America,” he said with a touch of pride. “I joined the army ‘cause it’s hard ta find work.”
Rebecca nodded her sympathy. “I’m willing to teach you to read, if you want. It could improve your chances at a better job.”
He brushed the offer away with a grateful smile. “I’ll be leavin’ the paper here for next time, if ye don’t mind,” he said, sliding the letter into his pocket as he stood. “I’m much obliged.”
He turned toward the entrance but hung back.
“Was there something else?” she asked.
“Could ye check ta see the coast is clear?”
Rebecca suppressed a smile. “Of course,” she said. She raised the flap and stepped out, hearing him shuffle into the shadows behind her. “Looks good,” she whispered.
He scooted around her quickly, touching his head as if to tip a hat, and started away at a ground-eating walk.
Before he was out of sight, Aunt Belle came around the corner of a tent. Both she and Malone were startled to see the other. Malone recovered first, giving her a bow before moving on. Rebecca would have stepped back into the tent, but she was sure her aunt had already seen her. Trying to hide would only make things look worse.
“What did Paddy want?” Belle asked when she joined her.
“Oh, he was just passing by,” Rebecca said.
“He hadn’t been here to see you?”
Rebecca laughed. “Oh my, no. I had just stepped out when he walked by. We exchanged a greeting, that’s all.”
“Well,” Belle said, turning to look in the direction Malone had taken. “You were standing here and he was hurrying away. You can imagine how it looked.”
“Perhaps your imagination is better than mine,” Rebecca said. “Have you come for tea?”
“That would be nice.” She started into the tent then turned. “Why were you just standing here?”
“I was just going out,” Rebecca said, reaching for the kettle. “I understand there’s a farmer not far from the fort who has goats. I thought I might try to make a deal for some milk.”
“Goat’s milk?” Belle looked queasy.
Rebecca decided not to argue. “I thought it might be better than nothing.”
Belle waved the idea away. “I wouldn’t be leaving the fort anyway. From what your father said, those surveyors weren’t camped very far from here. The Indians must be close.”
It was easy to agree not to go. She didn’t need the milk anyway with Clark gone. She had wanted it for his coffee, for his oatmeal, maybe for some custard if she got enough eggs. What did she care about any of those things for herself?
When the kettle was on the rekindled fire, Rebecca followed Belle into the tent. “Why didn’t Alicia come with you?” she asked.
“She’s napping. She doesn’t sleep well. But who does on those awful cots?”
Rebecca was sure her face showed no more than the appropriate concern. “Does she get up and move around at night?”
“You mean like a sleepwalker? Of course not.”
Rebecca shook her head. “I’m only suggesting that a little exercise might help her. And if the cot is truly uncomfortable for her, moving around a little can ease the stiffness. It was just a thought.”
Of course it wasn’t at all what she was thinking. But if Alicia was still sneaking out to meet Brooks, her mother was evidently unaware of it. Rebecca clung to that bit of information and tried to relax. The first chance she got, she would talk to Alicia alone.
After about fifteen minutes of mindless chatter, Rebecca began to wonder why Belle had come. She knew she wasn’t Belle’s first choice for a companion. The woman didn’t seem to have anything in particular she wanted to tell her or ask of her. Had the unannounced visit been a way of checking up on her?
By the time Belle left nearly half an hour later, Rebecca was sure of it. And since Belle naturally thought the worst, she was probably convinced there was something going on between Rebecca and Malone.
What difference did it make? She slipped back into her seat and stared at the empty teacups. It wasn’t as if a rumor like that was going to break Clark’s heart.
One lonely day slipped into two, then three. Hank came by each morning with more meat, which she took to her father’s tent after the dance lesson. She didn’t have the heart to tell the boy she didn’t want the meat until Clark came home.
Malone hadn’t been back either with eggs or to write another letter. She knew he had other customers for the eggs and suspected she wouldn’t get any more until he got an answer to his letter.
Powers had yet to bring her any mending. She felt guilty but not enough to approach him about it. She had been by the corral a couple of times and knew her horse was well cared for.
She got up and moved her chair deeper into the shade of the tent. The days had grown hotter and the only relief seemed to be to find a place in the shade that caught the breeze. Tomorrow, she reminded herself, would be the first day of July. It was supposed to be hot
Today was Sunday. The noise around the camp had a more disorganized air. It rose and fell occasionally. Now it seemed to be somewhat on the rise. Rebecca had no interest in investigating the cause. It was too easy to sit and do nothing.
Earlier, the chaplain had led an open-air service. She had attended, of course. It was expected, and there was nothing else to do.
That wasn’t entirely true. There were things she could be doing, like finding Powers. There was no fatigue duty on Sundays which made it a perfect time to look for him.
She could ride her horse, though the thought of riding in skirts wasn’t appealing. She had been spoiled by the pants.
She could invite Alicia over and try, yet again, to find out what was bothering her. Rebecca frowned. Alicia was keeping something from her. She swore she wasn’t meeting Brooks, but the subject made her nervous. Maybe one more try would bring out the truth.
Yes, she decided. That was what she would do. Soon. She stared into the cloudless sky. How could she concentrate on Alicia when all she thought about was Clark?
She closed her eyes and let her imagination have free rein as she did so often lately. She missed him more than she ever would have imagined. Even his cool distance was better than his absence. At least when he was around she could watch him. And she definitely liked that. She liked to watch him ride, to watch him walk. To watch him shave.
And his voice. That deep, masculine voice with the charming accent. And when he dropped his voice just above a whisper, he could send tremors through her body.
“Rebecca?”
Yes, just like that. Her imagination was better than she thought. She could have sworn she had heard him. She sighed contentedly.
&n
bsp; “Rebecca.”
Her eyes flew open. Clark was kneeling beside her chair. She stopped just short of throwing herself into his arms.
“I didn’t know you were back,” she said, unnecessarily.
He smiled. “We made a small commotion, but it appears you were asleep.”
“I guess so. How did everything go?” she asked, hoping to distract him before he asked why she had been smiling in her sleep.
“The surveyors have been returned to their camp with some soldiers left to guard them. We checked out the reports but never saw any Indians. Just rumors, I guess.”
“I can’t say I’m sorry.”
“I doubt if your father will feel the same way. I need to report. And get cleaned up. We can talk more at supper.”
She watched him rise and walk away, letting herself smile again. He was home. A tiny spark of hope. ignited in her heart. He had come to see her first.
But the smile lasted only a moment. Supper. She sat back and groaned. Well, she had some time to come up with something. She didn’t want to think that giving her time to start supper was the only reason Clark had come to her first. She got up and took the chair with her into the tent.
Opal didn’t allow Hank to hunt on Sundays so there would be no fresh meat. She wanted to fix something better than the salt pork Clark had been eating while he was gone. She looked through her supply of food. Beans needed to soak overnight. She wanted to save the eggs for breakfast.
She didn’t have much choice, she decided. Maybe some cornbread would make up for the salt pork. She had half the ingredients mixed before she realized she would have to use one of the eggs.
“Fine,” she muttered, choosing the smallest of the three. “I won’t have one tomorrow.”
She added the water and beat the batter until it was smooth. She reached for a pan and realized she didn’t know how to bake it over an open fire.
There was probably time to run and ask Opal. She tossed a cloth over her batter and hurried to her friend’s tent. Opal’s instructions were specific and detailed, but it was nearly thirty minutes later before Rebecca returned to her tent.
She had poured the batter into the small deep skillet Opal loaned her when she heard a knock on a tent post.
The Unlikely Wife Page 16