The Officer and the Traveler

by Rose Gordon

  Shock, pain, mortification, and uncertainty all swirled through Gray like a windstorm. “What the hell are you talking about?” he blurted, unable to form a more eloquent wording.

  Michaela crossed her arms. “I just told you. You’re a—”

  “Self-righteous philanderer, I heard that part. It was the rest I’m unclear on.”

  Michaela threw her hands in the air. “I don’t see how I could have been clearer. Not that it matters. I just find it unfathomable that you’re pretending that sending me away is some sort of peace offering for my marrying you to ensure you get a fair trial when it’s clear the real reason is that I’m of no use to you any longer. You’ll get your fair trial and you got a guilt-free and seemingly inexpensive night of pleasure.”

  Gray’s face warmed. He didn’t know which of her misconceptions was worse. Not to mention they were outside arguing about this where anyone might see or hear them. He considered trying to convince her to go back into their room, but knew it would be fruitless. “Michaela, if you don’t want to leave after the trial, you don’t have to. I’m not trying to get rid of you.” He leaned his right shoulder against the wall, forcing her to look at him directly. “You didn’t come here with the intention of getting married. I know that. I also know that this isn’t the most sought after fort for an officer’s wife. It’s desolate and dangerous. I don’t want to force you to stay, but I’m not forcing you to leave, either.”

  Her face softened a fraction. “And the other?”

  He knit his brows. “Are you speaking of my interest in bedding you again?”

  She dropped her eyes in response.

  “That won’t be happening again,” he said with a hard swallow.

  Fire flashed in her green eyes. “Why because you don’t bed the same woman more than once?”

  “I haven’t, no,” he said with a hint of a smile.

  “Oh, so then it’s because I’m not experienced enough for your liking.”

  He sobered. “I never said that.”

  “It cannot possibly be because I’m no longer chaste.”

  “It has nothing to do with that, either.”

  “Then what is it about me that repulses you so?” she burst out, throwing her hands into the air in a gesture of defeat.

  “You don’t repulse me. Quite the opposite, if you must know.” He ignored the way another round of heat crawled up his face at his admission and prayed she wouldn’t comment on it. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

  “I don’t understand. On our wedding night you were all…all…eager and now you can hardly abide to look at me.”

  A lead weight hit him right in the gut. “I know,” he wheezed. “It was wrong of me to put my own desires before you and I’m so very sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  She frowned. “I never said it was a travesty that I didn’t wish to repeat.”

  “You didn’t have to. I should have controlled myself better. Once again, I’m very sorry. I won’t dishonor you again.”

  “You’re my husband, you can’t dishonor me,” she said tonelessly.

  “Yes, I can and I did.”

  Her brows knit. “How?”

  “Because I don’t love you.” As soon as those five words had escaped his lips, he wished dearly he could take them back.

  He didn’t know what reaction he was expecting from her, but once again it wasn’t the one he received: her eyes flared wide and she let out a bit of a squeak, then ran the other way down the board plank and toward the stairs.

  It wasn’t until a moment later that he knew what had caused such a strong reaction when a heavy hand clapped him on the shoulder and General Davis said, “Perhaps you should keep your words of romance, or lack thereof, for the bedroom.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Michaela! Wait!”

  Michaela kept running. She could hardly see through the hair that had fallen in her face, but she wouldn’t stop. It was only reasonable to expect that Gray would catch up to her. But if he didn’t then she could at least hold onto some shred of dignity.

  She hadn’t expected him to declare some sort of love for her after being married only two days. Neither did she expect him to just so carelessly tell her he didn’t. And certainly not in front of her father! Which only made things that much worse. How long had he been standing there listening to their private conversation?

  Of course it wasn’t that private because they were outside! One more of her many mortifying mistakes of the morning. She wanted nothing more than to forget it all and if she could get to Aunt Lucille’s without either of them catching her, she’d have a chance. At least for a while, and right now she’d take that much of a reprieve.

  Gasping for breath, Michaela stumbled up the steps to Aunt Lucille’s cabin and without knocking, flew inside, then slammed the door and leaned against it.

  “Something wrong, dear?”

  Breathlessly, Michaela shook her head then blew her hair away from in front of her face.

  “Michaela, let me in,” Gray called, pounding on the door.

  Michaela stiffened and pressed her full weight against the door.

  “You can’t hold me out.” He wiggled the doorknob to emphasize his point and Michaela shot a pleading glance to Aunt Lucille.

  Aunt Lucille stood and shooed Michaela away from the door, then jerked it open. “I sure hope you didn’t intend to insinuate you had no problem barging into my home without so much as knocking first.”

  Michaela stifled a giggle. Leave it to Aunt Lucille to be so direct.

  “I need to speak to Michaela,” Gray panted, trying to push his way into the room.

  “No.”

  The room went still. Never had Michaela witnessed Aunt Lucille use such a cool, dismissive tone.

  “Mrs. Lewis, I’d like to speak to Michaela, please.”

  Aunt Lucille clucked her tongue. “We make our own wardrobes around here, Captain. Which means that from time to time it isn’t decent for a man to enter. Like right now.”

  Gray grumbled something about not believing her, but retreated.

  Aunt Lucille closed the door behind him. “Care to tell me what that was about?”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “This is a small fort, dear. News of this will travel faster than you might like.”

  Michaela already knew that. She suspected by dinner tonight everyone who lived here would know some sort of fact about the trouble brewing between the Montgomerys. All she could do now was pray it would all go away soon.

  “Good to see you’re still exercising your lungs,” Ella said to Michaela as she and Allison breezed into Aunt Lucille’s home.

  “I had a wonderful run, thank you,” she said airily, trying in vain to keep a straight face.

  “Amid other things,” Ella muttered. She took her seat on the settee and reached for her sewing basket. “What exactly did you say to the man?”

  Michaela retrieved the fabric she’d begun sewing yesterday. It wasn’t anything grand, just an apron. Now that she was a wife and would be cooking her own meals, she’d need it. If Gray could ever stomach having a meal with her, that is. She frowned. He really must not like her.

  “Michaela?”

  She started. “Ella?”

  “Would you like to talk about it? In nice, hushed tones, of course.”

  Michaela pushed her needle through the dark blue fabric. “No. If you heard me earlier, then there isn’t anything else to say.”

  “I just heard your voice, I couldn’t make out what all you were saying.”

  Michaela exhaled. “That’s for the best. It was a private matter and it was my lapse of judgment that allowed it to become public. I apologize if I ruined your morning.”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake, Michaela. That monotone voice and inane statement might fool some, but not me. If you’ll only tell me what the problem is, I promise to help you.”

  Michaela swallowed. It wasn’t that she was afraid her sister would mock her for her troubles
or go tell others. It was more a matter of pride. Michaela was the older sister. She was supposed to be the one more experienced and giving advice. Besides, Ella’s husband was clearly in love with her. There was no way she’d understand Michaela’s predicament.

  “Thank you for offering, Ella, but there isn’t any advice you can give me.”

  “Are you sure?” The genuine concern in her eyes was unmistakable, prompting Michaela to reach over and squeeze her sister’s forearm.

  “I’m sure.”

  The four of them went into the happy harmony of sewing in companionable silence broken a while later when Sarah came in to join them. She looked tired again today, likely from whatever illness she was mending from.

  Aunt Lucille offered to let her lie down in her bed, but she declined, saying the sunlight would be good for her.

  A knock at the door an hour later made a shiver of unease skate down Michaela’s spine. Would it be Gray requesting to speak to her again, or worse, her father? There was no way she could stand setting eyes on him after he’d borne witness to her argument with Gray.

  “Why don’t we go start cutting up the ingredients for lunch,” Allison said softly.

  Grateful for the distraction, Michaela didn’t argue that it was too early to even be thinking about lunch.

  “I don’t know how to tell you this other than to just tell you,” Allison blurted in a soft whisper when they’d reached the worktable. “Ella might not have heard your conversation with Gray this morning, but I did.”

  Michaela’s pulse raced as she stood numb and waited for Allison to continue.

  “I wasn’t trying to listen, but you two were standing right in front of my room and well…as you know things carry.” She flushed. “I won’t tell anyone, but I wanted to let you know that sometimes what Gray says and what he actually means by it are two different things.”

  “I didn’t run off because he said he doesn’t love me. I know he doesn’t and I didn’t expect that he did.” Sighing, she picked up a wooden spoon and idly tapped it against the palm of her free hand. “I know that sometimes Gray’s words come out wrong. I realized that when he explained what he’d meant about sending me away after the trial.” She tossed the spoon on the table with a soft thud. “And I fear once I give him the chance to explain his disinterest in bedding me, I’ll be the one embarrassed.”

  “You owe him the chance to at least explain,” Allison said softly.

  “I know. But not when other people—” particularly her father or Aunt Lucille— “are within earshot.”

  “No, probably not,” Allison agreed. “But do I have your promise that you’ll hear him out? No matter what?”

  Michaela narrowed her eyes. “Just whose side are you on?” she demanded in mock indignation.

  “Yours, of course.”

  “Are you sure, you seem to be defending him an awful lot.”

  Allison shrugged. “Only because I think the two of you are a perfect match for each other.”

  ***

  Gray half-listened to the men as they ate their mid-day meal. He should be more interested in what the men were saying, but for a reason he couldn’t place, or more precisely didn’t want to place, he could hardly hear them over the chaos going on in his own head surrounding his most recent argument with Michaela.

  With a grunt he thrust thoughts of her from his head while simultaneously pushing away the crusty bread and half-baked beans that were on the plate in front of him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, and yet, he didn’t feel the least bit hungry.

  Around him, conversation swirled. Talk of guns, crops, horseflesh, and even ‘back home’, seemed to always be the main points of conversation among the men as each tried to make their place here while still longing to be anywhere else.

  Gray shook his head. To him, there wasn’t anywhere else better to be than stationed at a fort, no matter how desolate. Not that he had anywhere else to be.

  He shoved to his feet. There was still thirty minutes left before they had to be back in formation. Plenty of time to go find his wife and straighten things out with her.

  “Headed somewhere, Gray?”

  Gray stopped mid-stride and cast a glance over to the man who’d said something to him. At no less than four marks above six feet, silver-shocked hair, a lean, impassive face that matched the cut of his body, Private Aaron Jacobs was enough to scare any man witless if he wanted to. His cat-like tendencies of sneaking up on people and catching them unawares didn’t help. Nor did the way he addressed everyone, including his superiors, informally and nobody said a word about it.

  “Private Jacobs?” Gray said, nodding in the man’s direction.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  Gray sighed. Anytime any of the men wished to speak to him it was to try to get him to change his mind about an assignment. If Gray had heard correctly Private Jacobs had recently been assigned to help with building the new barracks that had been started last year. A taxing and dangerous job nobody would want to be assigned to. Gray could sympathize with the man, truly he could, especially in light of his newest circumstances of being threatened with seven years of the same sort of hard labor. But that didn’t mean Gray could get this man’s orders changed and quite honestly was surprised a man as strong and confident as Jacobs would even lower himself enough to ask.

  “I have something I need to take care of right now, perhaps later.”

  The man’s expression didn’t change at all at Gray’s statement, just as Gray hadn’t expected it would. “Yes, sir.”

  Taking a deep breath, Gray continued his walk toward the Lewises’ cabin. He stilled as laughter rung out from inside. He immediately recognized Mrs. Lewis’ infectious giggles and had come to recognize Allison’s bubbly laughter. He hadn’t spent enough time around either Ella or Michaela yet to recognize their laughter, but he was sure at least one, if not both, had found something humorous. His heart hammered against his ribs. Now might not be the best time to approach her. She was likely having a good time and his presence would only ruin it. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides. He needed to speak to her. Now. There wasn’t any shortage of time she’d be allowed to spend with her friends. There was, however, a shortage to his temper and nerves and he’d do best to talk to her now before things had a chance to become worse between them.

  Hardening his resolve, he lifted a fist and was posed to knock on the door, when a soft bang behind him caught his attention.

  He spun around on his heel, but nobody and nothing was there except the door to the Ridgely’s. He furrowed his brows. How odd. He was sure he’d heard a noise that very well could have been the door closing, but hadn’t heard any boots on the boardwalk. His skin prickled. Something wasn’t right.

  Gray pulled his pistol from its holster and cocked the trigger. Holding it in front of him, he reached for the doorknob. Even if it was locked, he could get in if he needed to. This fort had flooded enough in recent years that most of the wood was weak with rot.

  Slowly, he turned the unlocked knob and released the latch, then let go of the knob and pushed the door the rest of the way open with his fingertips. At first glance, he didn’t see anyone and let himself in, making sure to walk carefully and never turning his back to an area he hadn’t yet determined as clear.

  At a moment like this, it was a blessing the living quarters at Fort Gibson were small and simple, lacking any real hiding places. Deeming the seating area clear of intruders, he pivoted and used his foot to kick closed the door to allow him better access to the kitchen and sleeping areas.

  As soon as he did, he froze—whether from the sight before his eyes or the deafening scream that rent the air when his eyes fell upon Mrs. Ridgely’s naked form, he’d never know.

  Chapter Seventeen

  All laughter and enjoyment Michaela had feigned for the benefit of her lunch companions ended in time with a shrill scream that could only have come from Mrs. Ridgely, the only female resident who wasn’t at the ta
ble. She’d gone home right before lunch again, claiming a female complaint.

  Faster than her pa’s pistol could fire, everyone jumped from their seats at the table.

  “Allison, grab George’s gun,” Aunt Lucille said. She pointed to the rifle hanging above the fireplace.

  Allison did as she was bade.

  “Good. Now, hand it to me.”

  “Are you going to shoot someone?” Allison asked inanely.

  “If someone comes in here and tries to hurt one of you, yes.”

  “Do you even know how to shoot it?” Allison asked.

  Aunt Lucille shrugged. “Just point it at the man and pull the lever. I think I can handle that.”

  “Perhaps, I should take that,” Ella said.

  Michaela nearly groaned. Neither she nor Ella had ever touched a gun.

  “Jack showed me how to shoot his pistol,” Ella said by way of explanation. “It’s not quite the same, but it’s better than nothing.”

  “Indeed,” Michaela murmured, pressing herself against the wall.

  The commanding officers cabins were a fair distance from the barracks and surrounded by nothing but open field. Michaela wasn’t certain if that made her feel comforted or more afraid.

  A loud crashing noise, followed by male shouts and two gunshots filled the air.

  When she heard the boom of her father’s voice, Michaela relaxed. But only for a moment. Gray was yelling something, too. Unsure his role in this or why he’d be yelling at her father who’d just told someone to take someone away, Michaela walked to the door and opened it a crack. She gasped and opened it further, not sure she’d seen everything correctly.