Several unaccompanied wives filed into the room, causing all the men to rise. During the distraction she jerked her hand from Meeker’s grip and shot him an angry glare.
“Don’t get any ideas.”
“I’m not the one who said we were married. But it’s not such a bad idea. I haven’t had me a woman in a coon’s age.”
“And you don’t have one now.” She smiled tightly when Wessells took his seat and once again turned his attention to her.
“It was simply a foolish and harmless lie, Captain, and I admit that.” She slid her gaze slowly upward to lock with his. She’d learned how to flirt with men from the girls her older brothers courted, and used the knowledge shamelessly to extricate herself.
Meeker snorted. “I should’a known you couldn’t be true to me longer than a night or two. Shameless hussy.”
“Here now, sir,” Wessells said. “There’s no need for such talk. Gentlemen watch their mouths around ladies, even if one is their wife.”
Meeker puffed up and prepared for further comment, but she turned her attention elsewhere. Let them enjoy their egotistical male posturing.
Her eye caught reflections in the window that opened onto the dark alley. Stone Heart was out there, she knew it even though she couldn’t see him. She had no intention of giving him away after what he had done for her. But why did he hang around? He should be with his people. His reason for being here was to rescue the remaining imprisoned Cheyenne. The way Wessells watched her, he could easily become suspicious, so, with a sweet smile, she turned once more to meet his gaze.
How did Stone Heart plan to set free the remaining Cheyenne, get them out of the fort without getting them all killed? And himself, too, for that matter. Many soldiers were out searching for the remainder of escapees, but plenty of them remained at the fort. They would surely capture him, and either kill him or throw him in the prison with the others. Once there he could do little to aid them in their escape.
Around her the dining room grew noisier as the food was served. The clatter of utensils against plates and cups, the tinkle of glasses, the buzz of conversation and laughter. Two young men with white aprons tied around their uniforms finished carrying in thick white plates loaded with food. They had served the captain, then other officers, and only now were serving the women. Unabashed, she stared at Wessells’ plate, at the thick slab of beef swimming in gravy and brown beans in thick juice.
A bowl heaped with golden biscuits made its way around the table followed by small dishes filled with creamy butter, and she could not resist helping herself though her food had not yet arrived. Slathering butter over the hot biscuit, she took a huge bite and savored the flavor almost to the point of fainting in ecstasy. Opening her eyes she saw Wessells regarding her with amusement. Without shame, she took another bite, chewed in delight, and rolled her eyes. She couldn’t help it, and didn’t really care what he thought about her manners.
Her starving stomach reached up and grabbed the offering and pinched at her insides, begging for more.
Wessells snapped his fingers at the young man moving past with two plates. “Leave one of those with Miss Connor, Private.”
He did so, sliding the steaming offering deftly onto the white tablecloth in front of her. She inhaled deeply of the combined aromas and nearly swooned. How would she keep from making a complete fool of herself?
Something touched her arm and she turned to see Wessels’ wide grin when he offered the bowl of bread. “Please have some more, there’s plenty. I apologize for the poor fare. These outposts seldom have much to choose from in the way of a balanced menu. But we never lack for meat. It comes in regularly on the hoof, if you know what I mean.”
Eagerly she took two more biscuits, broke one and dipped it into the gravy pooled in her plate. The flavor was rich with beef drippings, and she finished it off before taking up her fork and knife to attack the slab of beef with renewed fervor.
Nearly halfway to demolishing everything on her plate, she noticed an unearthly stillness had fallen over the room. A room that earlier had been awash with the murmur of conversation and occasional laughter. She glanced up to find they were all watching her. A heated flush crept up her throat and flamed her cheeks. She lay down the eating utensils.
“I’m sorry, I apologize. You must think...I don’t know what you must think.” Unsure exactly who she addressed, she stared down into her plate.
Mama had taught her good manners, but hunger had gotten the better of her. With the edge off that hunger, she had time to consider her actions and how they must have looked, even to these frontier dwellers.
As soon as she arrived in this country with Stephan, she’d noticed that women who came west did their best to carry with them the good manners from back east. They attempted to dress and conduct themselves as if they lived in splendor. It was part of their attempt to deny the harsh conditions under which they were forced to live.
Even in the midst of their kind exclamations that they understood, it was quite all right, she should enjoy the food, her thoughts suddenly turned to Stone Heart. How must he feel lurking out there in the darkness, while inside everyone ate and his people starved? How he must hate all of them, stuffing their bellies and not sharing with the Cheyenne.
Thinking of that she was unable to put the next bite of roast beef in her mouth, but stared at it for a long while. Finally she ate it, but some of the enjoyment was gone.
Somehow she must get him some food, try to help him in any way she could. It was only right, considering how he had taken care of her when she was lost and nearly frozen. A still, small voice accused her of another more personal motive, but she ignored it. Just because she was attracted to him didn’t mean anything could come of it. Even if she did go to his aid. It was only to pay off the obligation she felt.
Covertly, she watched the waiters come into the dining area and carry out the plates, some still containing large pieces of meat. Part of that manners thing, she supposed. Ladies should eat delicately and leave a portion on their plate so they wouldn’t be thought gluttonous. What would they do with the leftovers? There must be an outside door from the kitchen area, probably out back. Could she get in that door after everyone retired for the night? And if she could manage to procure some food, how would she find Stone Heart and his people? Obviously, this called for a midnight exploration.
“My, all this food,” she exclaimed to Wessells. “Is it prepared right here?”
“In the kitchen there,” he said and pointed toward the doors at the back of the room through which the plates were being carried. “Now, about this confusion concerning your marriage to Mr. Meeker there.”
She widened her eyes, batted them. “I explained that. It was a spur of the moment little white lie. I didn’t know what kind of men your soldiers might be, and a woman like me...well.” She covered her bosom with spread fingers. “What about the rest of the soldiers? Where do they eat?”
Wessells gazed at her a long, silent moment, weighing her words, then replied to her question with a confused expression. “The cavalry barracks has its own mess hall, as does the infantry barracks.” Lifting a fork, he said, “Now, if you don’t mind, would you?”
Again, she didn’t let him return to his earlier subject. Lifting her glass, she went on. “They certainly do feed you officers quite well. Do all the soldiers eat as well?” She forked up the last bite of beef.
He smiled, somewhat indulgently, she thought, but she lay down her fork to lean forward and look him straight in the eye, waiting for his answer. She needed information, not flattery.
“We receive canned goods by freight, comes in on the train and is hauled up here. We keep a large supply, especially when winter’s coming on. Of course the beans are a staple to fill the army’s belly. The beef, as I said before, is purchased locally. I understand they have a contract with a nearby rancher.” He lay down his fork and reached himself another biscuit and buttered it.
It was interesting that he avoided her qu
estion about the quality of the regular soldiers’ food. She didn’t insist, though, just let him continue.
“Of course, beef is easily kept during the cold months. It’s butchered right here at the fort. We have a small house where it’s hung, and there’s a cold box where excess food is stored if they cook too much. The soldiers will have beans left from tonight’s meal for their noon meal tomorrow, no doubt.”
He shoved his plate away and lit another of the foul-smelling cigars. Wrinkling her nose, she tried not to show disgust. He went on without urging.
“In the summer, though, it’s an entirely different matter. Meat grows hair quickly out here in the heat and cooked food sours fast.” He took a puff and let out a trickle of smoke that joined the cloud filling the room. “Sometimes we get down to jerky and hardtack while we’re out on patrol. Some local farmers grow vegetables and we can buy them.”
“How nice.” Glancing around, she leaned toward him as if to speak in confidence, and he tilted his head.
“How in the world do you keep...well, everyone...I saw Indians camped nearby...how do you keep them from stealing the food?
“We post a guard around the clock, storage units are locked, and I’ve got the only keys.” Absentmindedly he rattled a ring of keys in his pocket.
Her spirits sank. They’d never get the keys and get past a guard to the food. She curtailed the questions before Wessells grew suspicious, but she had found out what she needed to know.
By the time the young privates brought dishes of steaming and fragrant bread pudding and refills of coffee, she was more than ready to enjoy it, for she had developed a plan of sorts. It would take Stone Heart’s help to carry it through, and some very dangerous role-playing of her own. Thank goodness, her questioning had put Wessells off further questions about her so-called marriage to the trapper.
****
In the dark alley Stone Heart hunched low and peered into the window across the way. Long shafts of yellow lamplight fell across dirty snow in the passageway. From his position he could see A’den Connor chatting amiably with that murderous Captain Wessells.
Despite her choice of a dinner companion, A’den drew his continued gaze. Lamplight glistened in her rich coppery hair. A long curl had escaped the twist at the crown of her head and hung beside her ear. Each time she smiled toward the captain, Stone Heart ground his teeth to control an animal-like instinct to burst through the window, plunge his knife deep in that mongrel’s heart and drag her away.
Inside that room, warm from the potbelly stoves and reeking with the smell of rich food, they ate while his people starved. His desire shifted to taking a leap through the window to take the rotten bastard’s throat in his hands and choke out his very life. Count coup on as many of the others as he could before they cut him down. Fists clenched at his sides, he controlled the urge and shifted his thoughts back to the woman.
Doing so only replaced his rage with another equally passionate need, but one which might in the end cause him just as much trouble. She was a beautiful woman, and he knew something of how her mind worked, how kind she was and how her naïveté might eventually mean her downfall.
All kinds of men would be only too happy to take advantage of her. A few years ago, living his carefree white existence, he might have been one of them. But something had happened that changed his entire life, refocused his desire.
Had Custer not ridden against the People, the Sioux and Cheyenne, slaughtered them at the Washita and moved on toward the Little Big Horn, cutting a wide swath of death, Stone Heart probably would have been content to continue as the bastard half-white son of the great military genius. Living a lie, going under a false name, and building himself a white man’s life. An easy existence indeed, when compared to the Indians’ struggle to survive what was glibly referred to by the white conqueror as manifest destiny.
As a boy he’d been only too glad to pass as white, with the reluctant, secret assistance of his father’s friends. Ironically, it was Custer’s actions that had changed that forever.
Staring with eyes that for the moment beheld only the bloodletting of the man he would never call father again, he didn’t at first notice A’den’s quick glances toward the window. The sound of laughter brought him back to the present and he saw her looking in his direction, as if she could see him.
Heart beating like a drum, he hugged tight to the wall. Even though she couldn’t possibly see him, she knew he was here, couldn’t seem to keep her eyes turned away. How, he had no idea. If she didn’t turn her attention elsewhere, they would all become suspicious. He started to leave before that happened, then saw her deliberately lift the napkin so it hid her lips and mouth something at him.
For a moment, he couldn’t make it out, then realized she was saying, “Meet me. Meet me.” The napkin was back in her lap so quickly he wondered if he’d imagined it. She took up her conversation with the captain as if nothing had happened.
How very strange that she knew he was there. Perhaps she did not, and he had only imagined her request. Even so, did he dare take a chance and go to her?
In the dining room, Aiden prepared to make a simple request of Captain Wessells. Whether or not Stone Heart had been watching and caught her appeal, she had no way of knowing. Yet she set in motion what must happen if he complied.
With wide eyes, she laid her hand on the captain’s arm. “I find my appetite sorely dissatisfied. I was a long time without anything to eat. It would be wonderful to make a late snack of the delicious beef and beans.” Raising a brow, she gazed at a slab of bread pudding drenched in rich cream that her companion hadn’t touched. “And that pudding, too, if no one minds.”
Wessells studied her closely, and she gazed at him with all the innocence she could muster, gently squeezing his forearm through the uniform jacket.
Taking a deep breath, he removed the napkin from his lap and wiped lips that appeared to tremble just the tiniest bit. She licked her own with the tip of her tongue and lowered her lashes.
It worked well. A look of abject pity came over his features, and he patted her hand, then gestured toward one of the privates removing plates from the tables.
“Please bring Miss Connor another plate of roast beef, gravy, and beans. And cover it with a towel so it won’t cool off on the way back to her quarters.” Turning to her, he said, “Please let me know if you need anything else. We’ll speak further in the morning about your current situation. I really have no truck with Meeker’s claim that you’re man and wife. I see that as an attempt by a desperate man to secure your lovely presence. And I for one can certainly not blame him.” He took her hand, held it to his lips much too long.
She smiled into his glittering eyes. “Why, sir. I can’t imagine ever wedding a man such as him, but you’re right. He threatened to do something like that. You are so kind. Thank you.”
With reluctance, Wessells released his grip, rose when she did and helped her with her cloak before handing her the plate of food. “Oh, don’t forget the dessert, either. It will be nice to see you put some flesh on those lovely bones.”
Outside, she and Retha hurried through the brittle cold, each breath burning at her lungs. The young woman stopped at her quarters and gripped the doorknob.
“Can you find your way, or do you want me to accompany you?” Nose pinched and cold, Retha visibly yearned to go inside.
“It’s only a few more doors down. Get inside before you freeze. I’ll hurry along. Perhaps we’ll talk tomorrow.”
Retha had the door open, slipped through and shut it behind her in the blink of an eye.
Relieved, Aiden moved quickly toward her quarters where she paused to look around. Had Stone Heart understood her plea? Would he be watching? Behind her, laughter and conversations were cut off as each in turn entered their own door. She stood in the cold until all was quiet, then stepped out from under the shelter of the overhang. If Stone Heart had understood, he would be waiting for the opportunity to meet with her.
She was
soon shuddering with the bitter cold, and still no sign of him. If he didn’t appear shortly, she would be forced to go inside. Turning, she stared in the opposite direction. Light streaked from windows to lie in a row of golden squares along the stretch of frozen snow cut by the many hooves of passing horses. Still, all remained quiet.
He wasn’t coming.
Lifting her shoulders, she sighed, turned toward her door and realized she’d have to put down the dish of pudding to open it. When she bent over to do so, he approached, still as the fall of night over the land.
“Go inside but don’t turn on a light,” he said softly. “Leave the door ajar.”
Though she’d been expecting him, he startled her so she almost dropped the small dish. Recovering, she nodded and slipped inside.
After a moment, he followed her into the dark room, the forgotten bowl of pudding in one hand, and softly closed the door. The room, vaguely lit by the outside watch fires, went totally dark
She gasped, stood very still, a sense of his presence like an old friend that embraced her. “I knew you’d come.”
“I didn’t.” He touched her arm, then pulled away. “What is that I smell?”
“I brought you something to eat.”
“Well, how in the...I mean, what did you say? I have a fugitive Indian I need to feed?”
“Hardly. Shouldn’t I light the lamp? Won’t it look funny if anyone’s watching?”
“Maybe, but wait until I get out of sight.”
“There’s a table and chairs in the corner away from the door and window. Take this and eat it before it gets cold. It’s absolutely the best food I’ve ever tasted.”
Unerringly, he took the plate from her, though she couldn’t see anything in the dark room except the small blaze dancing in the stove. After fumbling in the darkness to light the lamp she fetched a chunk of wood, opened the stove’s door, and tossed it in. Turning, she saw he sat, not in one of the chairs, but on the floor, attacking the food with even more frenzy than she had earlier. He looked so pathetically beaten she turned away.
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