by Hebby Roman
“Lieutenant Colonel Gregor is known for his adept handling of the Comanches when he was at Fort Concho. The District Commander had hoped he would bring a lighter touch to our relations with the Mexicans. And in some ways, he did, until Carlos de Los Santos decided to attack the stagecoach.”
“I still don’t see—”
“They’re replacing Gregor with Lieutenant Colonel Shafter. He’s a hard-liner and ham-fisted. He won’t have any compunctions about pursuing the Mexicans across the border.”
“But won’t it cause the Mexicans to complain again?”
“Probably, but we can’t let our citizens live in fear of being murdered in their own beds. Something has to be done.”
She huffed. “I guess you’re right.”
“Besides, the move for Gregor comes with a promotion and a chance to put sad memories behind him.”
She nodded. “I can understand why he’d like to leave Fort Clark, where his wife died. But a promotion?”
“Yes, he’s to take over Fort Davis, as a full Colonel, to pursue and contain the Apache in west Texas.”
“I see. It’s a long way off and a wild place. I hope he can find a new housekeeper.”
He leaned forward and tugged on her arms. She sighed again, uncrossing her arms, and letting him take her hands.
“He won’t find one as good as you. I know for certain.”
She smiled. “That’s kind of you to say.” She threw her arms around his neck and tilted her face up, obviously wanting him to kiss her. And he didn’t mind. He lowered his head, but she interrupted him with, “Why do you have to go? What are your orders?”
“I’m to take a squad of soldiers and build an armed camp at the mouth of the Pecos River where it flows into the Rio Grande. The Army hopes our presence might discourage some of the raiders. And it will serve as a base camp for Shafter if he decides to go into México to apprehend the bandits.”
“But why you?”
“Because I speak Spanish and was able to unmask the stagecoach conspiracy. In a way, it’s an honor. And if I get the camp set up, the commander promised me a promotion, too. I’d earn my other stripe back and be a First Sergeant again.”
She kissed him on the cheek. “Oh, Davie, I know you’ll be successful. You’re clever and dedicated and brave.” She exhaled and frowned. “But isn’t the commander offering you a promotion because of the danger?”
He didn’t answer. What good would it do? Instead, he put his finger beneath her chin and tilted her head up. And then he kissed her, long and deep, hoping he could show her all the love he felt, welling in his heart.
She broke their kiss and gazed at him. “I don’t want you to go away again.”
He thought he saw tears, forming in the corners of her eyes. “It’s only for a couple of months. I should be back by late November or early December.”
“It’s still a long time, Davie.”
“I can write to you, though. The commander said I can send you letters with the dispatches the Seminole scouts will bring to the fort. And you can send me notes, too, with the return dispatches. It’s kind of Commander Gregor, especially since it’s against Army regulations.”
He paused and lightened the tone of his voice, trying to tease her. “I thought you didn’t care about my going, only the commander being transferred.”
She turned her face away. “You know that’s not right. You know I love you.”
He grasped her chin again and made her face him. “Do you?”
“Yes, you know I do.”
“Enough to marry me when I get back? I know how much you love Christmas. I thought being a Christmas bride might make you happy.”
“A Christmas bride?” She smiled, and her brown eyes shown. “It would be wonderful, magical. Getting married on Christmas Day—I would love it.”
“I wrote to my parents, and they will be coming for the holidays. They want to meet you and are excited I’m getting married.”
She lowered her head and blushed. “I hope they like me. I hope they approve.”
“They will. Don’t worry.” He took her hands and turned them over, kissing the soft, tender skin of her wrists.
She shuddered and nestled closer to him. “I wish Christmas was tomorrow.”
He inhaled the homey scent of her, of soap and flour and bacon frying. And he couldn’t wait to set up house with her and start a family, too. “I wish Christmas was already here, but then I wouldn’t have the pleasure of helping you decorate the church.”
“That’s true…” She hesitated. “After the wedding, they won’t send you back to the Pecos. Will they?”
“No, I’ve the commander’s word on it. Don’t worry.”
“Well, I hope the new commander honors Gregor’s word.” She clasped his arms and held him closer. “It’s hard not to worry, being a soldier means you face danger all the time.” She hugged him. “I don’t want to lose you.”
He leaned back and gazed into her eyes. “That’s something else I wanted to talk to you about. I’ll need to finish my enlistment, but after, I’ll let you decide what you want me to do.
“I can re-enlist or my father would be happy to have me work in his shop. They’re building more and more mansions in Galveston. I wrote him about my drawing and the church lectern. He said he could use my skills to draw designs for mantels, staircases, paneling, lots of things.”
“Oh, that’s marvelous, Davie! I knew your talent was something special, not a worthless pastime.”
He grinned. “I never thought my father would approve of my ‘useless’ sketching, as he used to call it. Guess he’s changed, too.”
“What will you do?”
“Whatever you want me to do, Angel. Do you want to be an Army wife or settle in Galveston? As long as I have you, I’m content, either way.”
“Oh, Davie,” she said, her voice almost a sob. “To let me decide…” She gulped and wiped her face. “It’s kind of you to take my feelings into account. Most men don’t.”
She looked him in the eyes, and her lower lip trembled. “Do you know you’re very special, Davie Donovan? And I’m blessed to have your love.”
He gathered her into his arms, settled her on his lap, and kissed each one of her tears away. “Not as blessed as me, my Angel. I love you more than life itself.”
He captured her lips and lost himself in the joy of holding her close and kissing her until they both had to gasp for air.
* * *
Davie strode toward the barracks, whistling the catchy tune, “Old Susannah,” under his breath.” His heart was full, brimming over, and he was happier than he’d ever been. Now, all he had to do was get the base camp built and return to Crissy, making her his bride.
It was already dark out and taps had been played a few minutes ago. Gregor had chided him for being late, but it was the first time. And he and Crissy had had a lot to talk about—their wedding and the rest of their lives.
Since Dawes’ arrest, there hadn’t been a first Sergeant for Company C. Davie was unofficially acting as the top non-commissioned officer. Gregor had written a note for his immediate superior, Lieutenant Bullis, saying he’d been out late on Army business.
He turned at the commissary toward the parade ground. From the corner of his eye, he saw a movement in the shadows of the trees to his left. Though the fort had a front gate with a dirt road for wagons and horses, only a small portion of Fort Clark was fenced in. It was the way of most western forts.
He drew his Colt and crouched down. The dark shape moved again.
“You, there! Halt! Put your hands in the air or I’ll shoot.”
The dark silhouette shifted and changed. Maybe, whoever it was, had put their hands into the air. Or maybe not; they could be going for their gun. It was too dark to see, but none of the soldiers should be out after taps.
“Come forward slowly. I want to see you. Keep your hands up or I’ll shoot.”
The shadow sh
uffled forward, out of the gloom of the trees. The man’s hands were in the air.
“Don’t shoot, Sergeant, don’t shoot.”
Davie lowered his sidearm. The man was Private O’Rourke, and he was part of Company C. In fact, he was one of the men who’d been hand-picked for his squad to build the base camp on the Pecos.
O’Rourke hailed from Kentucky, and he was an expert shot, as well as an accomplished hunter. They’d be taking rations with them by mule because the terrain around the Pecos was rugged and without proper roads. If their rations ran low, it would be O’Rourke’s job to keep them in fresh meat.
Tonight, the private was dressed in civilian’s clothes: a dirty shirt, corduroy trousers, a scruffy-looking vest, and a wide-brimmed cowboy hat.
A horse neighed—the sound coming from the trees.
If he had to guess, he’d caught the private, trying to desert. Was O’Rourke in some kind of trouble? Had he been giving the Mexicans information, like Dawes had?
Davie hoped not.
“Unbuckle your holster and let it slide to the ground.”
O’Rourke did as he asked, and Davie took his arm. He towed the man toward the sound of the horse’s neighing. They found O’Rourke’s brown mare tied to a tree.
He jerked the private around to face him. “You were trying to desert. Why?”
O’Rourke gulped and ducked his head.
Davie shook him. “Why, Private? Why were you deserting? If you tell me now, I can try to intervene with the commander for you. If not…”
O’Rourke kept his head down, as if considering.
“I can have you court-martialed,” Davie warned.
The private raised his head and grimaced. “I don’t want to go to the Pecos with you. It’s too dangerous. We’ll be sitting ducks for the Mexicans.”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t mean you can desert.”
“I know.”
“I can turn you into Bullis, and he’ll throw you into the brig. Then Fort Sam Houston and—”
“No, please, sir, Sergeant Donovan, don’t turn me in.” He clasped his hands together, as if begging. “Have pity.”
The past few months had taught Davie an important lesson—everyone deserved a second chance. He was prepared to give O’Rourke another chance, but he also wanted him where he could keep an eye on him, while they set up the camp.
It was a risk, though, because if O’Rourke was in league with the Mexicans, he might bring them howling down on their heads. Davie found it hard to believe the Mexicans would rely on a private for information.
Another thought niggled him: O’Rourke’s excuse for wanting to run. The man had never shown a trace of cowardice before. It was strange, the private saying he was frightened. Few men, even those who were cowards, would admit such a thing.
“All right, Private. I won’t turn you in, but you’ll be going to the Pecos. And if you attempt to desert again, I’ll turn you in faster than you can say ‘skedaddle.’” Davie held the man’s gaze. “Understood?”
The man bobbed his head.
“I’ll be watching you. Don’t doubt it.” He hesitated, considering. “I hope you can get your mount stabled and sneak back into the barracks because I won’t help you.”
O’Rourke opened his mouth, as if to protest, but thought better of it. Instead, he drew himself up, saluting, “Thank you, Sergeant.”
“Get your gun and get on with you.”
He turned his back on O’Rourke, realizing he was taking a chance, but he had to know what he was up against. O’Rourke’s reason for deserting hadn’t convinced him.
* * *
Crissy knocked on the door to the laundry, and Isabel opened the door. It was after hours for the laundry, and she hoped the other women had gone home.
“Buenas tardes, won’t you come in, Crissy?”
“Aren’t you about done? It’s getting toward supper time.”
Isabel glanced at the setting sun. The days were short now.
“You’re right. I was trying to catch up on some of my accounts, but I should get home for my children.”
Isabel was a widow with two sons and a daughter.
Crissy stepped inside the quiet room, remembering the long, back-breaking hours she’d spent in Sudsville. She didn’t miss the work, but sometimes, she yearned for the easy camaraderie of her fellow workers.
Isabel closed a large ledger book, put it into a drawer, and took a key from the bunch dangling at her waist, locking the drawer.
“You can walk me home, mi amiga. I enjoy your visits, whenever you can get away.”
Crissy linked her arm with Isabel’s. Since their confrontation on the Fourth of July, she’d made certain to visit Isabel at least once a week. They shared lunch or went to church together. Occasionally, Crissy saw Isabel after work and walked home with her.
And Isabel had been as good as her word, sending over one young woman after another. Now Crissy had Sundays off, to attend Mass. But today, she needed to ask another favor.
“Isabel, Mama wants me to have Thanksgiving dinner with her and the doctor. I’ll cook the meal for the commander and his daughter, but I’d like to spend the holiday with my mother. Are there any of your girls who would be willing to serve Thanksgiving dinner for the commander?”
“Hmmm, let me think.”
Crissy wasn’t surprised Isabel needed to consider. Most young women wanted the holiday off—to spend with their families—or have a day to rest.
“I think Sylvie Pedersen might do,” Isabel said. “She’s doesn’t have family, and she could use the extra money.”
“She sounds perfect. Thank you. I don’t know Sylvie. Is she new?”
“Yes, I hired her last week to take Irma’s place.”
“Irma left the laundry? I’m surprised. Is she getting married or—”
“Yes, that fiancé of hers finally got enough money together. They’re to be married after the new year.”
“Oh, I’m happy for her. Please, give her my congratulations when you see her.” She had to bite her tongue to not blurt out her news, but until Davie returned safely, no one knew about their engagement, except their families and the commander.
She lifted her chin and said, “You know, I’ve been meaning to mention it, but I didn’t want to stir up anything. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen Betsy around. I know I told you I didn’t want her to work at the commander’s, but—”
“You’re just noticing? Where have you had your head, amiga mía? In the clouds? Betsy has been gone since…” Isabel frowned, as if trying to remember. “Since right around the time your sergeant left for the Pecos.”
“Oh, I hadn’t noticed.” She flushed. “I guess I haven’t been paying attention.”
Isabel tilted her head to one side. “What I don’t know, is why Betsy left so suddenly.” She frowned. “Said she was going back to those relatives who have a ranch near Fredricksburg. But I don’t know… she came here to get away from them.”
Isabel pursed her lips. “I hope she’s not in trouble.”
“Trouble?” Crissy inhaled. “As in, the family way?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. She loves men and likes to flirt. But if the man was a soldier, she refused to turn him in.” Isabel shrugged. “Maybe it was someone from town. Otherwise, I don’t know why she wouldn’t name the father.”
“Oh, my, I’m sorry to hear it.”
“Well, I don’t know for certain. Just guessing.”
Despite her run-ins with Betsy, if she was in the family way, Crissy felt a spurt of sympathy, and at the same time, a sense of relief.
After all, she could be facing the same shame, if Davie hadn’t possessed the self-control to turn her down, the day she was moving. Not to mention all the time they’d spent together at the pond.
“Well, I hope you’re not right about Betsy,” Crissy said. “Perhaps she went to her cousins because they needed her.”
“Yes, I ho
pe so, too.” Isabel nodded. “Let’s hope and pray for the best.” She pulled on Crissy’s arm, saying, “Ven conmigo, I want you to see my children. How they’ve grown! You’ll see,” Isabel said. “Can you stay for supper?
“Yes, I already made the commander’s supper, and Peggy can heat it up.”
“Bueno.” Isabel nodded. “We’ll have a real visit.”
Crissy smiled and thought about Davie. A visit with Isabel would be a welcome diversion. She’d known she’d miss Davie, but once he was gone, she’d counted every day, missing him more than she’d dreamed was possible.
And this time of the day, at twilight, was the worst.
He’d kept his word and written her, sending the notes with the official dispatches. Commander Gregor had given her the letters.
She’d written him back—but it wasn’t enough. It was already late November, and she wanted him home. Home and in her arms. Home and kissing her. Home and getting ready for their wedding.
Chapter Ten
Crissy gazed at Davie’s sketch, which she’d pinned above her bed when she’d moved into the commander’s house. But today, she couldn’t stay still for long. She hurried down the hallway, checked on Peggy, who was working on her school lessons at the kitchen table, and went into the parlor.
She paced the commander’s sitting room, barely able to contain her excitement. The forward scout had arrived this morning, telling Commander Gregor the squad was on their way back. And she couldn’t wait to see Davie again.
It was early December, and it had been three months since they’d parted. She’d tried not to show it, especially around the commander, but she’d been scared out of her wits the whole time, worrying about him.
If something were to happen to Davie, she didn’t know what she’d do. How could she survive without him? Now, she understood why her mother had remarried and what she’d told Crissy about her job.
She should have never worried about her job. The commander had told her, one night over supper, if she hadn’t been engaged to marry, he would have asked her to come with them to Fort Davis and continue as their housekeeper.