Jasper came over the rise of a mesa and signaled the men to stop. He took the spyglass and searched the countryside. Nothing. He led out again, and the troop started down the rocky slope. If he saw nothing by evening, tomorrow they would turn around and head home.
A war cry interrupted his thoughts. Seeing the war tribe hurtling toward them from the right, he shouted for his men to dismount and take cover behind the boulders. The exchange only lasted a few minutes, but by the time the Apache withdrew, he had lost two men and two more were wounded.
The next two days the Apache eluded them, and Jasper had no choice but to assume they had gone to hole. He turned the troop toward home. Eager to see Bessie, he kept a brisk pace back to the fort.
Facing the Apache braves had been an illuminating experience. He wanted children, part of his own flesh and blood to leave behind him. If he had died in the skirmish, would anyone have cared? He thought of Bessie, of his strange marriage. Enough was enough. It was time he was a husband to her.
He didn’t think Bessie would object if he asked to move his cot beside hers in the bedroom. But did she love him? He wasn’t sure how he felt about her. He admired her and felt a strong liking for her, but was that love?
He was trying to show her biblical love, but it was hard. That was all action, mutual submission, and consideration. Would he ever feel the emotion of strong love, the feeling of being caught up in something bigger than himself? Would he be willing to die for Bessie? The Bible talked about a man loving his wife as Christ loved the church, of offering himself for her. That was a daunting thought.
If they ever hoped to achieve that ideal, they had to make a beginning for a real marriage. He hoped Bessie agreed. The thought of their children around the dinner table, running to greet him when he came home was heartwarming. He wanted lots of children around—little boys with red hair like his own and little girls with Bessie’s gray eyes.
The fort seemed unusually quiet when the troops rode in. Several soldiers waved laconically, but most stayed in the few patches of shade. The temperatures were already hovering near one hundred degrees Fahrenheit, and it was only May. What would midsummer be like? He sighed as he rode into the stable.
§
“I’m home,” he called, shutting the door behind him. The dim, cooler interior was a welcome relief from the bright heat outside.
The bedroom door opened, and his smile faded when Rooster came out instead of Bessie. “What’s wrong? Where’s my wife?”
“Settle down, Lieutenant. A rattler took a liking to your missus, and she’s been mighty sick. She’s yonder in the bed.”
A rattler! His heart sank. She was such a tiny thing. Rattlesnake bites could be deadly to children and small or weak adults. He hurried to the bedroom.
Her head propped on pillows, Bessie lay in the bed, her face turned toward the window. She looked so small even though the cot wasn’t large. Translucent skin so white and fine he thought he could almost see through it. Small drops of perspiration beaded her forehead, and her breathing was erratic. He had seen men bitten before in Texas; she wasn’t out of danger yet.
Still asleep, she turned her head, and he sat beside the bed. When he took her hand, it was hot and dry. So small and delicate, but when he turned it over, he saw the calluses there. She had never had calluses in Boston, had she? He studied her sleeping face and realized she didn’t have that dusting of freckles back at Fort Bridger. She had been a good wife, and she was trying so hard.
He bent his head and prayed for God to spare her. Ruth needed her, and so did he. If this wasn’t love, it was as close as he had ever felt. Maybe he wasn’t capable of more. The way he had been shifted from pillar to post as a child could have stunted his capacity for love, but he felt more for this small woman on the bed than for any other woman who had ever come into his life. She had tried so hard to make a life and a home for him. For the first time he thanked God He had sent Bessie instead of Lenore.
Jasper stayed beside the bed through the long night. Just before dawn she thrashed in the bedclothes and called his name. “Jasper, don’t leave me.”
“I’m here, Bessie.”
With great effort she opened her eyes and managed to focus on his face. “Don’t leave me, Jasper,” she whispered. “Please don’t send me back to Boston.”
He smoothed the hair back from her face. “I wouldn’t do that. You’re my wife, and we belong together.”
“Lenore couldn’t love you, you know.” Her eyes were bright with fever.
“I know. I’m not interested in Lenore. You are a much better wife.”
She seemed to relax at his words, and with a indistinguishable murmur, she fell back asleep. Was that what had been bothering her? Did she think he cared anything about Lenore? From what he had heard of her, he couldn’t see Lenore sticking it out in a place like this.
He gazed into Bessie’s face. In spite of his intentions to make their marriage a real one, the circumstances prohibited that. Maybe when she was better, they would talk about it.
§
Bessie winced and shaded her eyes from the sun. Her gaze traveled around the room and came to rest on Jasper. His red head lay inches from her arm. His breathing was deep and regular, and her right hand lay in his. When had he arrived?
For the first time in days she felt clearheaded, though she was still weak and dizzy. She was just glad Ruth was all right. At the thought of her daughter, she glanced around the room again. Where was the baby?
For a moment, she panicked. Then she remembered Rooster’s presence earlier. He had surely taken the baby. She put her hand on Jasper’s hair and twined her fingers in its thick, coarse texture, smiling at her audacity.
He muttered, and his eyes opened. The sparkling green depth of his gaze made her mouth even drier. She pulled her hand away quickly, and he sat up.
He touched her forehead and smiled. “You’re better.”
Her heart fluttered at the relief in his voice. “I think so, yes. Where is Ruthie?”
“Rooster has her.”
She nodded, but then another thought struck her. “Was she bitten?” Agitated, she raised up on the pillows.
He pushed her gently back. “She’s fine. Happy as the soldiers who are spoiling her. I checked on her last night. She was cooing and gurgling with her fist in Rooster’s hair.”
She relaxed and smiled at the picture.
“The soldiers even got your garden planted.” He smoothed her hair. “All you have to do is worry about getting well.”
“I’m well,” she told him. She sat up and ran a hand through her tangled hair. “I must look a sight.”
“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he told her. “I missed you and Ruthie while I was gone. We’re a family now.”
Did he really feel that way? She searched his earnest gaze and saw no deceit. Was this a new beginning for them? She pushed away the specter of her sister.
nine
Jasper insisted Bessie rest for a few days. She was relieved at his insistence for she still felt dizzy and light-headed. He brought her the watercolors she had brought with her, and she and Ruth spent daytime hours under the trees along the acequia. She painted scenes of fort life and thought they were pretty good. She captured Rooster and several of the other soldiers practicing drills on the parade ground, the small post band playing their instruments in the cool of the day under the trees near her and the Indians moving to and from the sutler’s store.
For the first time since she had come west, she had time to stop and savor the sights and smells of the fort: the licorice smell of the tobacco plugs the men chewed, the mix and match uniforms they wore, and the fragrance of creosote bushes and sagebrush. She tried to get all that flavor of life down on canvas and was amazed at her own paintings. Her uncle in Boston had urged her to send him some of her work; perhaps she would send him some of these.
Jasper sometimes joined her with a block of wood and his whittling knife. They seemed to have made an uneasy truce, uneas
y on her end, anyway. He seemed relaxed and content.
§
“What are you doing up? I can get my own breakfast.” Jasper said.
Bessie jumped. Sometimes he was so noiseless, like a cat. “It’s time things got back to normal,” she said firmly. “I’ve spent too much time relaxing as it is. The laundry is piled up, this house is filthy with dust and sand, and we’re out of bread.”
He grinned. “You could always make more biscuits.”
“They might even be edible this time now that I know how to make them.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re doing a fine job. You might make a fair-to-middlin’ cook yet.” His green eyes twinkled. “I’m in the mood for beans and corn bread.”
She smiled. “That’s exactly what I was planning for supper. Where are you going today?”
“We’re building new latrines. The commander wants the heavy digging and hard work done before it gets any hotter. Which reminds me. I’ve arranged for some help for you.”
She frowned. “I don’t need any help. I’m managing just fine.” Did he feel she was failing in some way as a wife? She was trying so hard, but she knew her cooking still wasn’t great. Jasper ate it without complaint, but maybe he longed for better cooking than she could muster.
“Yes, but I don’t want to turn you into a drudge. I want my wife fresh and lively when I come home at night. You have plenty to do just caring for Ruthie. You’ll like Eve.”
“Who?” she called after him as he walked toward the door.
“Eve. She’ll be here soon.”
“Another woman?” She couldn’t believe it. She had seen no other women since they went through Tucson on the way to Fort Bowie. She felt a sense of excitement tinged with jealousy. Where had he seen this woman, and what had been his true motive in asking for her help?
A soft knock interrupted his answer, and Jasper moved quickly to answer the door. When he opened the door, all Bessie could see over his shoulder was a shining cap of black hair. She smoothed her own brown locks down and hurried forward.
A lovely Indian woman stood on the stoop. Her soft brown eyes were full of trepidation, and her gaze darted from Jasper to Bessie and back again.
“Missus.” She bobbed her head and cast her gaze to the ground. “I come to help you with your work.” Her English was nearly flawless as was the smooth brown perfection of her skin.
Bessie immediately felt dowdy and unattractive. How could Jasper fail to see how lovely this girl was? Something about her reminded Bessie of Lenore. Perhaps it was the raven hair or the smile, but if she thought of Lenore when she saw Eve, did Jasper think of her, also? In her mind’s eye, she could see Jasper and Eve with Ruth. The perfect little family. He had to have hired her because of her beauty. Stop it! She was behaving like a half-wit.
Jasper frowned and glanced her way, and she realized she was behaving poorly. “Welcome, Eve. Please come in. My husband was just telling me of you.” She stepped back from the doorway and motioned her in.
Eve gave Jasper another glance, and she walked past him.
“I’m going now.” He brushed Bessie’s cheek with his lips and closed the door behind him.
Her cheek burned from the touch of his lips. He did not usually kiss her good-bye in the morning. Was this an attempt to throw her off the rabbit trail her thoughts had taken? Could there be anything between Jasper and this young woman?
Bessie forced a smile to her lips. “What do you know how to do, Eve?”
“I can do laundry, clean, cook; anything you need, Missus.”
“Where did you learn to speak English so well?”
“My mother was white, Missus. She met my father, a Navajo chief, when her parents came through on their way to California. My father stole her away, and they were very happy for many years.”
“I see.” Bessie couldn’t imagine such a life for herself. But the woman had evidently never forgotten her roots. She had made sure her daughter spoke English.
“She and your father are still living?”
A shadow crossed Eve’s face. “My father died last year. Mother still grieves.”
“Where does she live?”
“With my brother and his wife on the reservation.”
“I would have thought perhaps she would try to find her white family in California.”
Eve shook her head. “She would not be accepted after marrying a Navajo.” She said the words matter-of-factly, without a trace of self-pity. “She tried once to write them, but the letter came back. Her parents had rejected it. She threw it away and never spoke of them again.”
Bessie felt a stab of pity for the unknown woman. How terrible it would be never to hear from her parents and family again, to give up a way of life for another and never be able to go back again. “Perhaps you should try to contact them, Eve.”
Eve gave her a slight smile. “I think I should begin my work, Missus.”
In other words, mind your own business. Bessie felt the sting of rebuke. She had been meddling. Flushing, she led the way to the kitchen.
She showed Eve the washtub and scrub board, but before she could instruct her further, Ruth began to cry. Bessie left Eve in the kitchen and hurried to the baby. “Why is Mama’s girl so sad?” she cooed, picking up the infant.
Ruth stopped crying and smiled, reaching out a chubby hand to grasp a tendril of hair.
A wave of tenderness washed over Bessie. She wanted so much for Ruth, but after talking with Eve, she was fearful. Would people accept her adopted daughter? She snuggled her close and frowned. She could fight some of Ruth’s battles, but the child faced a great many more.
Kissing the top of the baby’s downy head, she carried her into the kitchen and began to prepare a bottle for her.
Eve stopped what she was doing and stared at the baby. “She is not white.”
Bessie flushed. “No. I found her with her dead mother in the desert. She is mine now. I love her.”
Eve nodded. “It will not be easy, Missus.”
“Call me Bessie. I would like to be friends.” She was surprised to find she no longer felt jealous toward Eve. She knew Jasper would never betray her with this girl. What had she been thinking? Her husband was a man of integrity. Being out in the desert with a man who wanted her sister was making her think unreasonably.
Surprise and pleasure vied for Eve’s expression. “I am your servant, Missus,” she said with downcast eyes.
“I need a friend more.” Bessie touched Eve’s shoulder.
Eve bit her lip. She raised her eyes and met Bessie’s gaze. “I, too, need a friend.”
“Then let us do our work together, and we can talk as we work. It will make the day go faster.”
The day flew by. Eve left before Jasper returned for the evening. She lived with her brother about a mile out of Fort Bowie, and she needed to prepare his supper. When Bessie shut the door behind her new friend, she felt as though she had turned some kind of corner in her acceptance of her new life. Just having a friend made all the difference.
After supper, Jasper took out his Bible and studied it while Bessie did the dishes. She stopped and stared at him through the open doorway. Would she ever get to really know her husband? She knew she loved him now, knew it in every fiber of her being. She loved everything about him. The way his hair grew in a cowlick, the way he played so gently with Ruthie, the sweet, kind things he did for her. Just like hiring Eve. He had only been thinking of her, but her first thought had been of suspicion. He had shown concern by finding Eve for her, he was solicitous of her health and well-being, but what did he really feel? Did he still think of Lenore?
Bessie thought again of the letter hidden in the bottom of his mess chest. She desired to know its contents but feared to read it. So far she had resisted the temptation and hoped she was strong enough to continue.
Drying her hands on her apron, she took it off and hung it on a peg on the wall. She smoothed her hair and joined Jasper in the parlor.
He smiled when she sat beside him. “Ruthie sleeping already?”
“Like a lamb. She won’t wake until morning.”
He stretched out his legs and sighed. “I’m bushed.”
“Hard day?”
He nodded. “That sun saps me. But the latrines are dug. How did it go with Eve today?”
Bessie could feel her spirits lift at the mere mention of her friend. “Wonderfully! Did you know her mother is white?”
Jasper looked surprised. “I had no idea. Did she tell you that?”
Bessie nodded. “She doesn’t have to live on the reservation because she is part white. Her mother still lives there, though, even though her father is dead.”
Jasper nodded. “Understandable. She would be ostracized back East.”
“Even out here?”
“They might be polite to her face, but they would likely talk about her behind her back. Men would think she was fair game, and women would think she was no better than a common street girl. She’s better to stay where she is.”
Bessie frowned. “What about Ruthie?”
Jasper sighed. “It won’t be easy, Bessie. I hope and pray things change by the time Ruthie grows up.” He put an arm around her and hugged her. “Let’s not borrow trouble yet. We’ll do the best we can, pray, and leave it in God’s hands.”
She leaned against him and marveled at how safe she felt in his arms. He pulled her closer and propped his chin on her head. She could hear his heart beating under her ear and smell the scent of horse and leather on his uniform.
“Hey, I almost forgot to tell you. The stage brought news about the impeachment. President Johnson was acquitted because the Senate didn’t have a two-thirds majority. The vote was thirty-five for impeachment and nineteen for acquittal.”
To Love a Stranger (Wyoming Series Book 4) Page 8