The fire was almost out as they stepped inside Amelia’s quarters. “I’ll get the fire going,” Emmie said. The wind blew down the chimney and sent ashes flying all over her and into the room as she opened the stove door. She quickly threw two logs in and shut the door again.
“Let’s just have some soup, since we’ll be having tea with Frances,” Sarah said. “I’m really not that hungry, are you?”
“Not at all,” Emmie said. “Soup would be lovely. I’ll warm it up.” She opened the back door and lifted the brick off the pan sitting on the ground. There were too many roving dogs to set the pan out without something heavy on the lid. She put the pan on the stove and turned to tie on an apron before she soiled her dress.
“I feel sorry for poor Frances,” Amelia said.
“She seems happy enough,” Emmie said. “Why should you feel sorry for her?”
“Her husband doesn’t seem to give her much thought. He’s always out playing poker at the sutler’s store or trying to stir up some of the men to go on some confrontation with the Indians. Mrs. Horton says this is his second marriage. I have a feeling it won’t be long before Lieutenant Grummond’s hot blood brings him in harm’s way. And poor little Frances is so loyal and sweet.”
“But aren’t most men a lot like that?” Emmie asked as she stirred the soup. “My brothers were, and so was Monroe.”
Sarah and Amelia shared a long look.
“Rand and Jake are different, of course,” Emmie said hastily. “But you two are luckier than most.”
“Actually, Emmie, I’m glad you brought this up,” Sarah said slowly. “I’ve wanted to talk to you about your view of men. I’ve seen the way you shy away from our male callers, even Isaac. I’ve found most soldiers to be loyal and kind to their wives. And Ben was—Ben was not a good example for you to look to. I hate to see you waste your life because of that distrust you carry around like a shield. I’m sorry to hear Monroe wasn’t kind to you.”
Emmie flushed. “It’s not that he wasn’t kind—” She gulped and sat down. She twisted her hands together in her lap as the other women sat beside her. It’s time for the truth, she thought. But did she have the strength to tell it? She drew a shaky breath. “I’ve wanted to tell you about this,” she said, slowly searching the faces of her friends. “But I was afraid you wouldn’t care for me anymore when you knew the truth.”
Amelia leaned forward and took her hand. “Nothing you say could possibly change how we feel about you, Emmie dear. You’re our friend, and we love you. Your husband’s character can’t change yours. You’re sweet and loyal and giving. I’m honored to be your friend, and I know Sarah is, too. You can tell us anything, and we won’t betray your confidence.”
Tears welled up in Emmie’s eyes. “I–I don’t really know how to begin,” she choked.
Sarah handed her a hanky. “Begin wherever you want,” she said softly.
“You have to understand. Monroe was so—so alive when I met him. I’d never seen anyone with so much exuberance and energy. I couldn’t resist that vitality. When he began to pay attention to me, I couldn’t believe it. Me. The slutty daughter of the town drunk.”
“Oh, Emmie, you were never that!” Sarah’s voice was indignant.
“I heard Mrs. Lambert call me that once when I was thirteen. I’ve never forgotten it. I’d never even talked to a boy besides my brothers when I heard her say that, but I was so ashamed.”
“My mother always talked about how sweet you were and what a shame it was you had to grow up with the father you had,” Sarah said.
“Did she really?”
“Really. She would see you at Pap’s store. When we’d get home, she’d tell me I should be more like you and not such a tomboy.”
A tear slowly slid down Emmie’s cheek. “She wouldn’t say that now. Not if she knew the truth.”
“What truth?” Sarah’s voice was insistent.
Emmie took another deep breath. “After Monroe’s funeral, a lady showed up at my door. Well-dressed and pretty with a small boy. She was Monroe’s true wife, and the little boy was his son. He’d married me although he was already married to her. That’s why I had to leave town. So you see,” she finished bravely, “the baby I’m carrying is a bastard. And Mrs. Lambert is saying she was right about me all along.” The seconds seemed hours as the shock registered on the faces of her friends. Would they reject her, too?
“You poor dear,” Amelia said. She jumped to her feet and put her arms around Emmie.
At the compassion in her voice, Emmie burst into tears. Hot, scalding tears that she had kept pent up since she’d first learned the truth about Monroe. There had been no one who could hold her. No one who cared what happened to her.
“It’s not your fault, Emmie,” Sarah said gently, taking her hand. “You didn’t know.”
“That’s not what they’re saying back in Wabash, I’m sure. I was beginning to get some strange looks before I left.” Hot blood rushed to her cheeks and she bowed her head.
“But we know you too well to believe any lies,” Amelia said. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner? Surely you didn’t think we wouldn’t believe you?”
“I didn’t know what to believe. It just hurt too much to talk about or even think about.” She got to her feet and hurried to stir the stew before it burned. She turned around and scrubbed the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I can’t tell you how much better it feels now that you know the truth. I’ve felt badly about deceiving you both. And now you know why I can never trust another man. It hurts too much to find out all their sweet talk is a lie.”
Both girls kissed her cheek. “Emmie, dear, God has someone very special in mind for you,” Amelia said. “You’ll see. But your secret is safe with us. Now let’s have some of that stew.”
By the time they ate lunch and cleaned up the kitchen, it was time to go to tea at Frances’. The sun shone weakly in a pale blue sky as they held onto their skirts and hurried across the parade ground. Frances met them at the door with tears in her eyes.
“Why, Frances, dear. Whatever is the matter?” Amelia put an arm around the petite young woman, and Frances promptly burst into sobs.
“I was trying to fix some stew for my husband as a surprise. Our cook was late, and I thought I’d try a recipe Mrs. Horton gave me. She said it was foolproof. But she didn’t tell me how much of that hateful pressed vegetable cake to put in, so I broke off what I thought was the right amount.” She sobbed pitifully and pointed to the kitchen. “Now look. And I wanted it to be so perfect for my first tea party,” she wailed.
Globs of stew ran over the big pot and lay deposited like a sticky surprise on the floor. The smell of scorched potatoes and carrots burned their throats with an acrid smoke.
Sarah made a strange, strangling noise, and Emmie looked at her in surprise. Is she laughing? She looked closer. Yes, she definitely was, although she was making a valiant attempt to suppress her mirth.
“I’m sorry,” Sarah gasped finally, wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes. “I’m just so relieved to find out I’m not the only one who’s done something like this. Ask Rand to tell you about my first attempt to cook with those desiccated vegetables.”
Frances sobbed one last time, but a glimmer of smile appeared at the corners of her sweetly curving lips. “You did it, too?”
“I did indeed. Only I made a much bigger mess. Don’t fret. We’ll help you clean it up, and then we’ll have tea by the fire.”
“I just knew we were going to be good friends!” Frances clapped her hands in delight, then showed them to her rags and water.
“I hear another lady is joining our little band,” Mrs. Horton, the doctor’s plump and smiling wife, remarked later as she sipped her cup of tea. “Major DuBois is bringing his daughter, Jessica.”
“Oh, no!” Sarah and Amelia spoke in unison, and Emmie looked at them with an upraised eyebrow and a question in her violet eyes. Amelia colored and lowered her eyes.
“Jessi
ca DuBois is a bit of a problem,” Sarah said hesitantly. “She set her cap for Rand, and she wasn’t too pleasant about it. She had the nerve to tell me to go back to Indiana where I belonged. She said I was too starched to know how to deal with a real man. And for a while I was afraid she was right,” she added. “I’ve really tried to get over the way I felt about her, but she makes it hard for any woman to be a real friend to her.”
“I’m sure she has her good points,” Amelia said. “But Sarah is right—it’s hard to find them. But maybe she’s changed,” she added hopefully.
“You are such an optimist,” Sarah said with a loving look at her friend. “You can never seem to admit that some people are just plain rotten through and through. Like—” She broke off with an apologetic look at Emmie.
“Like Ben,” Emmie finished for her. “You don’t have to mince words on my account, Sarah. When is she coming?” she asked Frances.
“Mrs. Horton says they should arrive any day,” Frances said.
“Wonderful,” Sarah muttered, taking a bite of her coffee cake. “But it’s probably for the best,” she said with a shake of her head. “God has been telling me to forgive her, and as long as I didn’t have to see her, I’ve been able to procrastinate. Now I’ll have to obey.”
“It’s going to be a long winter,” Amelia sighed.
Two days later they heard that the young lady had indeed arrived. Even if they hadn’t been told, they would have known by the way the men acted. They had fewer officers showing up on some pretext to talk with Emmie.
“I’m going to have to swallow my pride and go welcome her to Fort Phil Kearny in a day or two,” Sarah groaned. “I’ll have to pray for strength.”
The next day was colder and more like they had expected late autumn to be. The wind blew ferociously, and the sky was overcast. Emmie offered to take the laundry to Suds Row. Amelia was feeling poorly and let herself be talked into some hot tea with Sarah while Emmie ran across the parade ground to the laundress’s cabin. As she passed the sutler’s store on the way back, she saw a group of men all clustered around looking in the windows. Curious, she sidled up behind Rooster and tried to see around his scrawny neck.
“Howdy, Miss Emmie.” He flushed and backed away from the window a bit.
“What’s going on, Rooster?”
“Nothin’ much. The men’s jest curious about the new gal that come in with the supply train a couple of days ago. She’s the daughter of Major DuBois and sure is a looker. Not that it matters to me, of course. She’s in there with her pappy and Lieutenant Liddle.”
Something squeezed tightly in Emmie’s chest. Was Isaac interested in Miss DuBois? She stood on tiptoe and looked in the window. The young woman inside was a real beauty with deep red curls tied back at her long, slim neck. Her dark blue gown enhanced her voluptuous figure and the lace at the neck framed an exquisitely delicate face. She clung to Isaac’s arm and gazed up at him adoringly with big blue eyes. Isaac was smiling down at her indulgently. He turned slightly and saw Emmie looking in the window. His eyes widened as they met hers, and he raised a hand involuntarily. Jessica turned to see what he was looking at. She clutched his arm tighter and said something that caused the other men to laugh.
Emmie turned and fled back to the safety of the Campbell quarters. She fought the tears prickling at the back of her throat. Jessica really was a beauty. And an aristocratic one. With her father’s help, a young officer could go far, she thought. Why was she so upset, anyway? She had made it perfectly clear to Isaac that she wasn’t interested.
For the next few days, Emmie threw herself into helping Sarah sew tiny garments for the coming babies. She didn’t want to have any time to think. They spent their afternoons with the other women of the fort stitching tiny articles of clothing and learning about child care from the experienced mothers. They worked on Amelia’s layette, since her baby was due first. They wanted to make sure everything was ready.
“I wonder where Isaac has been,” Amelia remarked on a cold evening as they worked on the final quilt for her little one. “He hasn’t been over in several days.”
“I noticed that a couple of days ago and asked Rand about it,” Sarah said. “He said he’d invited him several times, but Isaac always had an excuse. He’s been acting strange, Rand said. Not his usual cheerful self. And Rand said he thought Jessica had set her cap at him now.”
“Not Isaac!” Amelia’s voice was alarmed. “We must do something, Sarah.”
“What can we do? He has to see through her on his own just like Rand did.” Sarah bit off the thread and smoothed the block she was sewing, then sighed. “I know we should stop by and call on her. God has been pressing me about it. I know she needs the Lord, too, but it’s so hard to imagine her ever bending her knee to anyone, even God.”
Emmie kept her eyes on her needlework, but her heart thumped uncomfortably. Let him shower his attentions on the lovely Jessica! It just goes to show all his pretty words meant nothing, just as she’d known all along. He is a typical man, she told herself vehemently.
“Maybe if you invited him over, Emmie,” Amelia said thoughtfully. “I thought he seemed to be sweet on you. If you were nice to him, maybe we could get him out of Jessica’s clutches.”
“Isaac will be fine by himself,” Emmie said. “I’ve told you before I don’t intend to get involved with any man.”
“But Isaac is different,” Sarah said. “He’s like Rand and Jake. He has character and principles. And he’s a Christian.”
“Then he’ll see through Jessica on his own.” Emmie’s tone did not invite further discussion.
“Maybe you’re right,” Amelia said with a sidelong glance at Sarah. “We’ll just have to trust in his good sense. And do a lot of praying,” she added.
seven
“Hurry up, Sarah. We’re going to be late,” Emmie called at the bedroom door. “Assembly sounded five minutes ago, and the post band is warming up.”
“I’m coming!” Sarah rushed out in a flurry of rustling skirts and the wafting aroma of lilac. Emmie and Joel followed her out the door and across the parade ground toward the milling crowd in front of headquarters. It was an unseasonably warm day for the last day of October. The sun was so hot, she wished she’d brought her parasol. They hurried up the platform that Colonel Carrington had ordered erected for the ladies and found a seat beside Amelia.
“I thought you were going to miss the opening assembly,” Amelia whispered.
Lieutenant Adair, adjutant of the Eighteenth, had the adjutant’s call sounded. The companies formed lines in front of their quarters, then moved to their battle positions. Colonel Carrington stepped to the fore and addressed the men. He began a stirring address to dedicate the fort and the brave men who had lost their lives in the course of the fifteen weeks it took to erect the encampment.
Emmie found her eyes straying to Isaac’s erect figure just to her left near the newly finished flagpole. He kept his eyes steadfastly on his commanding officer, and she felt a thrill of enjoyment that she could look at him without anyone noticing. He looked very fine with his new blue uniform pressed and the sun glinting off his brass epaulets and polished boots. She glanced to her right and saw Jessica DuBois glaring at her. Her cheeks warm, she looked away quickly and fastened her eyes on Colonel Carrington. The last thing she needed was for Jessica to think she was interested in Isaac!
The little colonel finished his speech by handing the halliards to William Daley, who had done most of the work on the flagpole. The men stood at parade rest with their right hands raised as the orders were barked out. “Attention! Present arms.”
The rifles slapped in the hands of the soldiers, and the drum corps played a long roll, followed by the swell of the full band playing “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Tears slid down Emmie’s cheeks as the guns opened fire, and William Daley pulled the halliards and raised the twenty by thirty-six foot flag slowly to the top of the mast. The warm, gentle breeze stretched it out to its full glory.
She waved her handkerchief in honor of the flag with the rest of the ladies and wept unashamedly. For the first time in her life, she felt part of something worthwhile, something good. She glanced involuntarily over at Isaac and found his steady gaze on her. He smiled and tipped his plumed hat. She smiled tremulously back at him. Glancing over at Jessica, she found the other woman engaged in a conversation with Colonel Carrington. Thank goodness she hadn’t seen the exchange!
As the men marched off to their quarters to the tune of “Hail, Columbia,” Isaac pushed his way through the melee and caught Emmie’s hand.
“Will you save me a dance later? I have to take care of a few duties before I can join the party at headquarters.”
“I don’t think I’ll be dancing. Besides, Jessica might be angry.”
He frowned. “What’s she got to do with us? Her father is my superior. I’ve just been helping her get settled in.”
“I think she thinks it’s more than that.” Emmie glanced over and caught Jessica’s stare.
Isaac shrugged. “She has nothing to do with us.”
“There is no us!”
He sighed. “We’ll talk about it later.” He strode off in the direction of the barracks.
Emmie bit her lip. Perhaps I shouldn’t go to the party at all, she thought. She just didn’t know how to handle Isaac. Or her own turmoil. For just a moment she longed to be free of the mistrust she felt about men. But it was the only defense she had. And she needed a defense when it came to Isaac.
Amelia grabbed her hand. “Wasn’t it wonderful, Emmie? I was so overcome, I cried.” She peered in Emmie’s face. “You did too, I see!” She tugged her toward the line of ladies and officers heading toward the door to headquarters. “I don’t want to miss a moment of the fun. Sarah went to find Rand and Jake. I told her we’d meet them there.”
“I’m not sure I should go,” Emmie began. “I’m still in mourning—” She broke off at Amelia’s incredulous look.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Emmie, dear. Whatever do you have to mourn about? That rascal wasn’t even your true husband.”
Plains of Promise (Wyoming Series Book 2) Page 7