The Officer and the Traveler

by Rose Gordon

  “Oh, I’m sure they’re not,” she agreed with a half-smile. “And some of them, I don’t even want to know the story behind.”

  “But it’s still not easy to hear others tease about something when you don’t understand what they’re saying or why?” he ventured.

  Michaela waved her hand through the air. “I’m sure the banter between you and Jack tonight about work and absence making something fonder has something to do with something either you or Wes said to him at one time—just like you wanting to seek revenge for his giving you castor oil in your coffee. My sisters and I have our secrets, too, so I can understand.”

  “Then is there something else bothering you?”

  “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?”

  “Michaela?”

  “I don’t feel left out, it’s just that—” she shrugged— “it reminded me that sometimes I don’t really know everything I’ve been allowed to believe that I know…” She continued on with something about partial truths, but try as he might, Gray couldn’t fight the envelope of sleep that surrounded him that threatened to, and eventually did, engulf him.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Just as Jack had told Michaela he would, Gray was awake and becoming quite an annoyance in only two days’ time.

  “Gray, you’re not going to work. You still need to be resting,” Michaela said for no less than the tenth time this morning.

  Gray reached his hand out. “Give me my clothes, Michaela.”

  “No.”

  Frowning, he put his left hand on the back of a chair for support and reached toward her.

  She scampered to the other side of the room.

  He gritted his teeth. “I don’t wish to play games.”

  “No? Then you’re not well enough to go back to work.” She sent him her best smile.

  He didn’t look convinced. Tall and muscled, naked and bruised, but not convinced. “I don’t care what you want me to do, I need to go back to work.”

  “Need?”

  “Yes.” His turquoise eyes bore into hers. “I need to go talk to the men and see what’s going on.”

  “You mean investigate?” She wasn’t a fool.

  “Someone has to,” he said flippantly. “I was convinced that now that I was owed a fair trial, I’d be safe since I know for certain there isn’t any direct evidence pointing at me. But now that it’s been assumed that I was forcing myself on Mrs. Ridgely, I need to find something, just about anything, that will expose the real culprit in Soft Dove’s rape.”

  Michaela blew out a breath. “I think you’re too worried. General Ridgely was surprised to see you in there with his wife. He’s likely learned the truth and is embarrassed. Nothing about the circumstances rings true for you having attempted to rape her.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “And how did you draw that conclusion?”

  “She already had her clothes off,” Michaela said dismissively. “If you were going to force her, she wouldn’t have waited until she was naked to start screaming.”

  A mix of emotions played over his face: acknowledgement, confusion, and then alarm. “You’re correct. It doesn’t look like I went there with the intent to force her, but instead to visit my…my…lover.” He pursed his lips. “Considering the circumstances, I don’t know which is worse. Her scream would indicate that things had turned sour between us and my loaded gun only confirmed that.” He shook his head. “This doesn’t do me any favors. I need to get back to work.”

  Michaela wanted to reach across the bed and shake him senseless! How could he not see that this was just a misunderstanding? Not to say she was overflowing with excitement that her husband had been beaten so badly as a result of this misunderstanding, but that’s all it was. Surely by now the general and Mrs. Ridgely had worked out the details and Gray had nothing to worry about.

  “My clothes, Michaela.”

  She sighed and tossed his last clean shirt and trousers down on the bed. The others had been too dirty and tattered for immediate repair. “Fine, but if you perish because you overworked yourself before you were well, do not expect me to weep at your burial.”

  “I don’t,” he said, snatching up his trousers. He leaned against the chair for support as he dragged them on. “I fully expect you to fling yourself on the pine box, sobbing.”

  ***

  Gray held his breath and clenched his jaw as he escorted Michaela to the Lewises’ for the day. He’d never tell her this, but she was right. He was in no condition to go back to work. Just walking made him want to fall to the ground. It was a good thing he’d let Michaela talk him into wrapping a tight bandage around his midsection or he’d have for sure expired from pain by now.

  “Would you like to come for lunch and allow all the ladies to fuss over you?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, her entire face turned red. She hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

  He gave her a grin. “I think I just might have to do that.”

  Blushing, she hurried inside.

  He watched her go. Nine years ago he’d have laughed in the face of anyone who’d said that one day he’d marry her. And only laughed harder if he’d gone on to suggest that Gray would have liked it. He shook his head. He shouldn’t like it. Well, all right, maybe he should just a little. They would be stuck with each other for the rest of their lives, so it would only be prudent to like the other just a little.

  He shook off the thought. She’d been attentive to him while he was recovering. That was all. It wasn’t like she’d had much choice, either. Someone had to do it and as his wife, she couldn’t have refused.

  Gray took his time walking back to his office. Partially because of the crippling pain coursing through his body and partially because of the dread that had settled over him and made his legs feel heavier than iron.

  Last night he’d asked Wes and Jack if there had been any word yet on his trial. Both had said they hadn’t heard anything, but Jack mentioned that General Ridgely had come by both days Gray had been absent looking for him.

  Gray had no real desire to see the man, but it was unavoidable, and there was only one thing Gray disliked more than men who let their high position taint their judgment: it was confrontations with such men.

  A year ago, General Ridgely had been the calm voice of reason and logic in helping Wes and Allison. It was hard to reconcile him with the tyrant who’d been quick to accuse Gray of wrongdoing.

  He opened the door to the large room the commissioned officers all shared for their office and lumbered over to his seat. Thankful he was alone at the moment, he slowly eased himself into his chair.

  “I’m glad to see you here,” General Ridgely said, startling Gray. He hadn’t noticed the general sitting in the back corner, reading a book.

  Gray stared at him. He had a hard time believing General Ridgely was glad to see him. “Can I help you with something?”

  General Ridgely sighed “I came by this morning to inform you that effective today, you’ll be under my command.”

  “I see,” Gray said slowly. “Is there a reason why?” He pressed his lips together. Did it really matter?

  “I think it’s best under the circumstances.” He dropped his book to the floor with a hard thud. “The closeness between your father-in-law and Colonel Lewis might taint the outcome of your trial so I think it’s best that Colonel Lewis is no longer your commanding officer.”

  Gray swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yes, sir.”

  “Very good.” General Ridgely came over to Gray’s desk. “Now that we have that settled, here are your first orders.” He withdrew a folded paper from his breast pocket and handed it to Gray.

  Gray watched the man’s slow retreating back as he left. Gray already had a good idea of what the script on the paper would say and didn’t wish to give General Ridgely any entertainment at his expense.

  When the general had finally left the room, Gray unfolded the paper and scowled.

  Take your unit of men and begin work on the s
outhern wing of the new barracks.

  He’d been right. He ran his hand through his hair. How was he going to tell his men that gone were the days of target practice and perfecting their drill steps, now they’d be hauling lumber and mixing pitch until they either died of fever (or exhaustion) or ran away?

  ***

  Michaela tried not to let her disappointment show at Gray’s decision not to join them for lunch. She’d been shocked to the toes she’d actually invited him, then shocked all the way back to her scalp that he seemed to accept.

  But he hadn’t come.

  “Is something wrong?” Ella asked.

  “No.” Michaela wiped her wet hands off on a white hand towel. “Why do you ask?”

  “Well…” Ella started slowly, giving Michaela an imploring stare. “This morning you were smiling and could hardly sit still. You didn’t even finish a single seam you’d started,” she reminded her sister. “Then all during lunch you stared at the door. I know you didn’t get a plate out for him, but were you expecting Gray?”

  “Expecting?” Michaela asked with a forced giggle. “No. But I thought he might wish to come and have lunch in a chair more comfortable than one of those benches in the dining hall.”

  “Did you invite him?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Ella lifted her brows. “Then what exactly did you do?”

  “I suggested it.”

  Ella sighed. “I think you’ll have to do more than that.” She grabbed Michaela’s hand and led her to sit down in a vacant dining chair. “Do you remember when Pa said that men who joined the military weren’t always the most intelligent creatures?”

  Michaela stared at her sister, speechless. Had her sister just insulted both of their husbands and all of their friends as well? “He said that because of those boys who snuck out of camp and got themselves stranded on the top of a mountain.”

  “Yes, I know,” Ella said dismissively. “But I think he was onto something.”

  Michaela continued to stare blankly at her sister.

  “Just hear what I have to say.”

  “I didn’t realize I had a choice,” Michaela muttered.

  “You don’t.” Ella flashed her a grin. “Remember in Savannah when all the young men would anticipate a lady’s need before she spoke?”

  “I suppose so.” Michaela hadn’t been on the hunt for a husband with the same eagerness as her younger sister. Or at all, to be honest.

  “Men who join the military are real men.”

  “Real men?”

  “Yes, real men. They’re not the kind to anticipate a lady’s needs or waste time on cryptic sentences. At least that’s what I’ve learned from my time here.” She squeezed Michaela’s forearm again. “If you want him to join us for lunch, you’d do better to just ask him rather than suggest it.”

  “And you’ve divined this because you always ask Jack directly for what you want?”

  A telling blush colored Ella’s face, leading them both into a fit of girlish giggles. Apparently her sister held back nothing in her newfound bravery.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Gray sagged against a tall oak tree and ran a hand over his sweaty face. He hadn’t had so much physical exertion since he first went to West Point and was made to run and do exercises all day. That was miserable. This was excruciating. There wasn’t a single part of his body that didn’t throb.

  “Need help, Captain?” Private Dobson, one of his men, asked.

  Gray grunted a ‘no’. It was the best response he could form. He wanted to collapse right there and let his men carry him back to the barracks. But he had more pride than that. He pushed off the tree. “Back to work.”

  All of the men in his unit picked up their chains that were looped under the forty-foot log they were hauling up to where the new barracks was being built and began to walk. Not one to let his men do all the work while he barked orders, Gray clenched his teeth together and held tight to his piece of chain.

  They’d been carrying cut logs from down the river up a mile to where the new barracks was being built all day. It was a slow, grueling process. Due to the sheer size of the logs, it took all the men in a single unit to move it. And even then, it wasn’t easy. They had to stop to rest every fifteen minutes or so, making it impossible to carry more than three logs in a single day to where they needed to go.

  At this rate, this new barracks might never get built.

  And to be frank, Gray didn’t really give a damn.

  He wasn’t a fool. He knew why he’d been given this assignment. Though not intentional, Gray had made General Rigid look like a fool and this was the price the general felt he needed to pay. Gray wouldn’t lower his pride enough to ask how long he’d be made to do this, but he’d hope it wasn’t too long.

  Sneering and snarling, Gray and his men got the log to its destination, dropping it with a bone-crushing thud. “That’s all for today,” he said to his men.

  Some wiped their sweaty brows with their dirty shirtsleeves, smearing mud across their skin while most of the others sank to the ground in an undignified manner the way Gray wanted so desperately to do.

  By some miracle, his weary legs carried him over to the Lewises’. Just as he rounded the corner to their door, he caught a glimpse of Wes and Allison and what looked like Jack and Ella slipping into the alley that served as the southern entrance of the barracks. He briefly wondered if Michaela had decided to go with them, but didn’t think he’d be able to make it back here to meet up with her if he made it there only to realize she was still with Mrs. Lewis. He mustered enough strength to make it up the stairs and to the Lewises’ door.

  He’d just closed his hand around the knob when it jerked open.

  “Gray!” Michaela practically shrieked, her green eyes flaring wide. “What has happened to you?”

  “Are you ready to go home?”

  She shook her head wildly, her hair falling from its pins. “What happened?”

  He forced a shrug. “Work.”

  “Slave labor looks more like it.” She reached for his hand and gave it a gentle tug. “Come sit down.”

  “Michaela, I’d prefer to go home,” he said quietly. He tried to stretch his lips into some sort of semblance of a smile. “You can dote on me there.”

  She cocked her head to the side and squeezed his hand. “Promise?”

  “Yes. Now, let’s go.”

  She called a quick goodbye to Mrs. Lewis then they were on their way to their home.

  “Do you mind if we make a quick stop over at Ella’s?”

  Gray’s body screamed, “NO!” His lips, however, said, “If that’s what you want.” If that’s what you want? Since when had her need to socialize with someone she’d seen all day become more important than his need to rest. “You did say quick, didn’t you?”

  She laughed. “Yes. I wanted to tell her that we won’t be able to join her for dinner like she’d asked.”

  “You’re welcome to go…”

  “No, I’d rather stay with you.”

  He started at her statement. Pursing his lips, he said her name in a silent warning. It was becoming apparent whatever feelings she’d once had for him were starting to reform and he didn’t like that. It was dangerous.

  “What? Is it illegal for a wife to wish to dine with her husband? Besides—” she squinted her eyes at him— “if I’ve learned anything about you and your friends, it’s that you all like to bring up past transgressions and torture each other for them. Do you honestly think I’d give you such easy ammunition against me? Absolutely not. I see this as insurance.”

  “Insurance?”

  “Yes, see, if ever I get hurt the way Ella did, I’d like to think you’d be in the room with me while I was sick and not out dining with your friends and bringing me the scraps.”

  He gave a slight half-chuckle at her reasoning. He suspected there was more to it than that, but decided it was best to keep his mouth closed.

  As promised, Michaela was qui
ck in her venture to tell her sister they wouldn’t be joining them for dinner. Ella, however, didn’t seem to accept that she couldn’t do something for them and insisted that she’d cook them dinner and bring it over when it was done. Gray wouldn’t argue with that. Michaela didn’t, either.

  In their room, she helped him undress and get comfortable in their bed.

  “Thank you,” he murmured.

  “You don’t need to thank me.” She tucked his boots under the edge of their bed. “I know we don’t share the same feelings and affections that Ella and Jack do, but I know you well enough to know that if the circumstances were reversed, you’d help take care of me.”

  “After I beat the man’s ass who dared to hurt you,” he corrected, garnering a grin from her.

  She cast him a sidelong glance. “Yes, after that.” She twisted her lips and partially closed her left eye. “You’re not trying to suggest I go find Lieutenant Jefferson and beat him black and blue with my parasol, are you?”

  “Only if you take Wes and Jack with you.”

  Her throaty laughter filled the air. “I’ll be sure to arrange it with them.” She grabbed the edge of the blue and white quilt on their bed and pulled it snug around his neck. “Meanwhile, you get some rest. I’ll wake you when Ella comes over with the dinner.”

  Dinner never came. Or if it did, Gray was too tired to wake up and eat.

  By the next morning, Gray felt far better than he had the day before.

  He sat with a grunt and looked around the room, trying to decipher the time by the amount of light coming into their room from the curtains.

  “Good morning,” Michaela said from where she sat brushing her long, auburn hair with a large silver brush.

  He looked around the room in awe. It was immaculate. Everything was straightened and cleaned. The shelves were even restocked.

  “Sorry, I missed dinner.” He winced at the roughness in his voice that had nothing to do with the pain in his ribs.

  “It’s all right.” She winked at him. “I enjoyed your share.”