The Officer and the Traveler

by Rose Gordon

  They exchanged their usual pleasantries on their walk home, halted when they crested the top of the stairs only to see General Davis standing in front of their room, leaning against the door.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve decided to join you for dinner.”

  Gray resisted the urge to groan.

  “It won’t be ready for a while, Pa.”

  “That’s all right, we can eat pie while it cooks.”

  This time Gray did groan.

  Michaela sent him a sympathetic smile. “I’ll make another tomorrow.”

  Gray unlocked the door and waited outside while his father-in-law made his way into their home. Before Michaela could join him, Gray caught her hand to stay her. “Do you think he’d be satisfied with a serving of nuts and jerky?”

  “No. But he doesn’t like my stew. Would you like for me to fix that?”

  “What’s there not to like?” he asked, stunned. “Never mind. Yes. Make that.”

  Inside, Michaela went about chopping vegetables and humming while she cooked.

  General Davis frowned at her, but didn’t say anything. Smart man.

  Gray made himself comfortable atop their bed like he always did while Michaela prepared their dinner.

  “Any progress in your investigation?” General Davis asked, lowering himself into a wooden chair.

  “A little. It’s been slow.”

  General Davis nodded. “Same here. Since I don’t know many of the officers here I’m afraid to ask the wrong person the wrong question.” He stretched his legs out in front of him. “It sure does feel good to be back at a fort again.”

  Gray’s stomach churned. What exactly had he meant by that? “May’s a wonderful month to be here. Next month it’ll start getting hot. By July you’ll long for a drink of water that doesn’t come out of the well boiling, and by August you’ll think you’re teetering on the edge of Hell.”

  “Boy, if you think to scare me off, that isn’t working.”

  Michaela’s soft laughter stole his attention and he sent her a hopeful smile. Well, if he couldn’t scare the man off permanently with his talk of weather to come, perhaps Michaela could scare him off at least tonight.

  Which she did.

  Just as she’d said, General Davis didn’t seem to enjoy her stew. It was odd really, but her father more or less picked at it for a few minutes before excusing himself.

  “I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it myself,” Gray commented after the door had closed behind her father.

  “I told you he didn’t like it. You should know by now that as a daughter of his, I’m never wrong,” she said with a wink.

  He bent forward at the waist as far as his broken ribs (and half-bowl of stew) would allow in a mock bow. “I shall never doubt you again.”

  She dabbed her lips with her napkin. “Good. See that you don’t.”

  ***

  The next day Gray’s quest to unearth any new information regarding the supposed rape of Soft Dove was fruitless. As was the day after that. Both days he’d tried to talk to some of Lansky’s men to see if they’d let something slip. Anything would be helpful if it led him to a man who might even have an idea of who was responsible. Neither day had he gotten a chance to directly talk to Jacobs. He’d decided it might be best to talk to a few of his equals first to see what they might know. Not that it mattered a whole lot. They knew nothing and Jacobs seemed to be nowhere to be found as of late.

  Unfortunately, his frustration of coming up with no leads was starting to get the better of him.

  “Is something bothering you, Gray?”

  Gray jumped at the sound of Michaela’s words. “No.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  He gave her a lopsided shrug. “Then don’t.”

  “Perhaps if you tell me, I can help you think it through.” Her voice was so soft and quiet he almost gave into her.

  “It’s not for you to worry about.”

  “You’re still trying to chase down some elusive clue about who’s responsible for what happened to Soft Dove, aren’t you?” Michaela said easily, not bothering to look up from where she was preparing their dinner.

  He couldn’t deny it. “Yes. But there doesn’t seem to be one.”

  “Maybe because you’re looking for the wrong thing.”

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, and what do you think?”

  “I don’t know,” he said with a groan.

  “All right.” She carried the skillet over to the fire. “Why don’t we start from the top?”

  “Michaela, we don’t need to do this.”

  “Why, because you’d rather reason it out in your head while I pretend to sweep and find things to straighten that aren’t askew?”

  He blinked at her. Was it possible she had been upset by his lack of chatting with her while she cooked? “Why don’t we talk about how your day was with your sister,” he hedged.

  She pulled a face. “How about we not.”

  “Do you not like seeing her every day?”

  “No, I don’t mind.” A slow smiled spread her lips. “Whenever she starts plaguing me with questions about the two of us, I start asking her questions about her relationship with Jack just loud enough for my father to hear.”

  He released a sharp bark of laughter.

  “Now,” she continued. “Let’s discuss what you know and see if we can find a solution together.”

  “Michaela, you—”

  “I’m waiting,” she cut in with a sing-song tone.

  Scowling, he lifted his hands behind his head and intertwined his fingers to make a headrest. “According to General Ridgely, Soft Dove was raped.” He grimaced as he said the word aloud. He’d thought it often enough, but to say it, and to his wife, no less.

  “But you don’t believe she was.”

  He closed his eyes and released a breath. “I don’t know.” He dropped his hands from behind his head and idly rubbed the scratchy bristles that covered his chin. “I don’t think she’d have been willing and with how many strong men there are around here, I think it’s possible she could have been overpowered.”

  “But?”

  “Well, it definitely wasn’t the night General Ridgely is claiming it was. When Soaring Eagle and Soft Dove came to make their claim, I still had a bruise on my face from when Jack’s fist collided with my face the night we went onto Cherokee land. If she’d been forced, she’d have still had the bruises, too.”

  “But her skin is darker than yours,” Michaela pointed out.

  “That’s true, but that also means if she had bruised, her bruise would have been darker originally, making it still somewhat visible a week later. I didn’t see any.”

  “Where all did you see?” The blush that stole over her face made him smile.

  “Not that I was looking too intently, but I saw enough of her to know there weren’t any,” he said evasively. He wasn’t the smartest man around, but he couldn’t imagine anything good could come from admitting he’d been given a glimpse of almost every inch of Soft Dove’s skin.

  “Well, if you weren’t looking too intently, then how can you be sure?”

  He grimaced. “I just am.”

  “How?”

  He threw his hands into the air. “I don’t know. When I first saw her sitting there I assumed she’d conceived—”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “She was quiet and avoiding contact with her father with her hands folded over her abdomen in a way that would suggest she was protecting her child.”

  ***

  Michaela’s heart slammed in her chest. Hard. Gray may never fully understand what he’d just revealed about himself. Nor did she fully understand his earlier confession about being the son of a prostitute. In a world where she’d witnessed beggars rise up to importance and an entire man’s legacy crumble in a moment, she’d never harbored resentment or condemnation toward Gray for his mother’s prof
ession. But just now, she finally understood the harder life that he’d seen.

  “You know these to be symptoms from your days…”

  He nodded once. That was all the confirmation it took for her to want to run to him and wrap him in her arms. She doubted he’d appreciate that, however.

  “How far along do you suppose she is?”

  “That I don’t know.” He twisted his lips, pursing them a fraction. “At least six weeks or they wouldn’t have known to come here about it yet, but no more than three, possibly four months, or her stomach would have started to grow round.”

  What an eloquent description. She shook off the thought. “You think her pregnancy has prompted their visit.”

  “Yes. She’s unmarried. I don’t imagine her tribe would be very forgiving if she’d taken a lover before she married.”

  “Do you think that’s possible?”

  “That she took a lover?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ve thought about it and I think it makes a lot of sense in one regard.” He leaned forward and turned the pillow vertical behind his back. “If she’s taken a lover from her tribe then discovered she was pregnant, she might be trying to protect both of them by blaming it on someone here.”

  “You don’t think he’d just marry her to spare her the shame?”

  “He might not have been in a position to make her his wife.”

  “Can’t they have multiple wives?”

  Gray lifted his hands into the air. “I don’t know.” He crossed his ankles and tapped the edges of his boots together. “He might be a coward and not want to admit to what he’s done. Or he might not have her father’s permission. Or it might bring less shame on her if she pretends it was a rape, then they marry and there’s no speculation on why their firstborn came so early.”

  Michaela’s blood turned to ice. She’d heard of something similar once. A friend had claimed rape as a means to explain to her intended that she was no longer chaste. She hadn’t been forced, though. She’d been more than willing and when her husband finally learned the truth of it, she’d suffered dearly. Perhaps that’s what would happen here. Soft Dove or her lover could be killed if someone suspected their child was the product of an illicit love affair.

  “But,” Gray continued. “There is also the repercussions of how this would hurt their entire tribe if such a lie about one of the men here were to ever come to light. Our relationship with their tribe has been stable so far, but if it made its way back to the capitol that one of our men was falsely accused of such a crime, stripped of his position and punished for it, the federal government might push them off their land or wage war in retaliation. Tensions out here can run high and I don’t think they’d want to risk that.”

  “Which leads us back to the culprit being one of the men here.”

  Gray nodded.

  “You don’t think it’s possible that—”

  “No.”

  Michaela frowned. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

  “I didn’t need to. I already knew what you were going to say.”

  “What?”

  He grinned. “Something foolish.”

  She reached for a towel from off the table and tossed it at him.

  “You were going to suggest that she could have been conducting an affair with one of the men here.”

  “That would explain no bruises.”

  “I never said she didn’t have any,” he pointed out. “I just said they weren’t present the night her father brought her here.”

  “So you’re saying it’s possible she was forced, but not the night they’re saying it happened?”

  “That’s what I don’t know. Their English isn’t very good and I’m not familiar with their calendar, if they even keep one beyond the position of the moon. I think General Ridgely came to the assumption of when it happened because it was a convenient date to select given that Jack and I did leave here that night to go to find one of the members of their tribe.”

  “No other men have ever left the fort at night?”

  “Not that I know of. Only a fool would be brave enough to leave the security of the barracks in order to face a tribe of Indians and actually assault one.”

  “Which supports the theory she had a lover from her own tribe.” She groaned. “But still that wouldn’t make sense that she’d bring the problem here unless they were certain they wouldn’t be found out.” She snapped her fingers. “How silly not to think of it sooner.”

  “Think of what?”

  “They knew you and Jack would be blamed. Either you or Jack mentioned that in your search to find Dark Moon that you’d run into a hunting party. When they returned to their tribe—”

  “They found their opportunity to blame it on someone from our fort,” Gray finished with her, a stoic expression on his face.

  Michaela got up to flip their beefsteaks. When she sat back down, Gray still looked to be lost in thought. She hid her smile. “You know, you could have saved yourself a lot of time spent worrying about this had you just talked to me sooner.”

  He couldn’t argue with that.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Gray awoke the next morning earlier than he could remember waking in a long time. Michaela’s words had made a lot of sense. And not just her theory on what happened with Soft Dove. Had he spoken to her sooner and talked things out, he’d have had an easier time of it these past days.

  But there was still one niggle. Why had Jacobs sought him out to speak to him that day he’d walked in on Mrs. Ridgely and now he didn’t want to be within fifteen feet of Gray? Today was his day off and anything short of a colossal injury to either of them, Gray intended to seek the man out and get some sort of answer from him.

  As quietly as he could, Gray built a small fire and placed the small iron water pot on top of it. Michaela had a cup of coffee waiting for him every morning when he woke. Today he’d like to do the same for her. It wasn’t much, but it was the least he could do to start showing his appreciation for everything she’d done for him.

  “Do you prefer apples or pears?” he asked when she sat up.

  Michaela stared at him as if he’d just grown a second head. “For what?”

  “To eat. I don’t have to work today so I thought we’d have breakfast before you go over to spend the day with Mrs. Lewis.”

  “Oh.” She climbed out of bed and joined him at the table. She picked up the green pear in the center of the table and took a bite. “Will I see you before the rounders game?”

  “Probably not.” He poured more coffee into his cup to keep his attention on anything other than the way Michaela’s nightgown clung to her womanly curves. Usually by the time he got up, she was already dressed for the day. “I don’t think I’ll be playing today. I have a few errands.”

  “Errands?”

  “Errands.”

  A shadow passed over her face, but was gone a second later. “I suppose I’ll bake a few pies today.” She took another bite. “I do feel bad for having my father over the other night only to serve him his least favorite meal and be sent home without dessert.”

  “Are you always this thoughtful to those you think you’ve done wrong?”

  “No. Just those I love.”

  ***

  Gray tamped down the tinge of guilt he had about leaving Michaela to her own devices while he went in search of Jacobs. As soon as he spoke with the man he’d let it be. In his mind he realized that Jacobs likely only wanted Gray to get him out of working at the new barracks. But it was the unsettling feeling of how the man treated Gray now that he, too, was working down there.

  It had been three hours since he’d begun his search for Jacobs and still nothing. He might have to go to the rounders game later today after all. Surely Jacobs would be there for that. To miss it would be unheard of.

  He rounded the stables and froze.

  Not ten feet away stood Jack and Ella and Michaela.

  “You’ll like Sundance,” Jack said to Michael
a, leading a tall chestnut mare toward her. “She’s a sweet horse.”

  Michaela looked panicked. “No. I don’t think I will.”

  “Are you sure? She’s very gentle.” He lifted his hand and rubbed the horse’s nose with his knuckles. “See, she won’t hurt you.”

  Michaela shook her head.

  Jack cast a fleeting glance to Ella who bit her lip. “She’s afraid of horses.”

  “Yes, I can see that,” Jack agreed. He turned back to Michaela. “You don’t have to be afraid of this one. She wouldn’t hurt anybody.”

  “I have an idea,” Ella said. “Why don’t I ride Pablo by myself and the two of you can ride on Sundance?”

  Gray wasn’t sure who looked more horrified at the suggestion: Jack, Michaela or possibly himself.

  Michaela said something in response, but Gray couldn’t hear her over the blood thundering in his ears. Jack and Michaela share a horse. Absolutely not! Michaela was his wife—if anyone was to be sharing a horse with her, it’d be him.

  Without realizing it, his feet had carried him over to the trio and before he knew what he was saying or had given it enough thought to make it coherent, said, “Thank you for offering to take Michaela with you on your ride, but she has other plans.” He leveled a stare on Jack and took Sundance’s reins from his friend. “With me.”

  “I thought you had errands,” Michaela said bluntly after Jack and Ella mounted the horse they shared and were out of earshot.

  “I do and one is to take my wife on a horse ride.”

  “But I don’t like horses,” she protested.

  He laughed. “You might have fooled them, but I remember you being quite content to being atop a horse.”

  “That was before I fell.”

  His grin faded. “You fell? When?”

  “The night I fled the brothel.”

  All humor fled from him in that instant and his muscles grew tense. “Have you not been on one at all since then?”

  “No.”

  He cleared his throat. “Would you like to try?”

  ***

  No! No! No! “I don’t think so.”