* * * *
Antonio was unusually quiet on their ride home and Serena knew her husband well enough to let him alone with his thoughts. He would tell her what was in his mind eventually.
When they reached their hogan, Antonio went off to take care of the horses and Serena began to prepare dinner. There was a mutton stew she had made yesterday, which only had to be heated up and some stale dry bread that could be crumbled into it. When Antonio returned, he ate it quickly and, nodding his thanks, went outside again. Serena cleaned up and wrapping a shawl around her head, went out to find her husband.
He was sitting against an old, twisted juniper and when she sat down next to him, he reached out his arm and pulled her close. It was getting dark earlier now and the sky was beginning to become bright with stars. They sat quietly and watched the constellations reveal themselves until it was completely dark and it seemed as if someone had sprinkled mica across a piece of black velvet.
“Look, husband,” said his wife, pointing out a shooting star.
Antonio turned toward her and brushed her lips with his. Serena put her hand on his cheek and he drew closer, this time teasing her mouth open. When she responded eagerly, he eased her down onto the old blanket he was sitting on and began to kiss her more thoroughly and passionately.
Serena loved every inch of her husband’s body. He was a small man compared to most of the bilagaana, but most satisfyingly proportioned. As she cupped his buttocks with her hands to guide him into her, she thought fleetingly of her conversation with Mrs. Woolcott and chuckled deep in her throat. Antonio heard it as a signal to drive deeper and harder, and in a second, her legs were around his hips and she was letting him ride her while she rose to meet him in a rhythm that matched his own. After he had taken his pleasure, he rolled over on his back and pulled her on top. Using his fingers, he brought her to her own climax. She cried out and clung to him, rubbing herself against him as though she wanted to exchange skins.
After a moment, he rose on his elbow and reaching out, pulled her shawl around both their shoulders and they lay back, blissful, tired and spent, to gaze at the stars.
Serena shivered as the desert night grew colder.
“Do you want to go in?” her husband whispered.
“Let’s stay out a little bit longer,” she said. “It will be getting too cold to do this soon.”
He hugged her closer and after a moment gave a long sigh.
“What is it, husband? Is it that stupid bilagaana Cooper?”
“Sometimes, when I watch the stars come out, I think of the bilagaana.”
“How can you think of something so ugly while looking at something so beautiful?”
“Look at the night sky. As darkness falls, only a few stars arrive, one here and one there. There seems to be plenty of space for all, doesn’t there? And then, little by little, the sky gets darker and fills with more and more stars until it seems like there will be no room for another one. It is like when these new men arrived. Maybe that was our twilight. At first, there weren’t so many. But it seems to be getting darker and darker for us, while they shine brighter and brighter and fill up Dinetah.”
“Do you really think it is getting that dark for the Diné?” Serena asked softly. “The peace seems to be holding and they haven’t asked for anything else. This year has been a very good one for our crops and sheep. You can’t let fools like Cooper pull your mind out of balance.”
“Hozhro? I feel it when I am with you, wife. And when I am out in Dinetah. But the bilagaana are throwing things out of harmony. There are too many of them. And too many of them are like Cooper. Not enough like Sergeant Burke.”
“You like him.”
“I do. It seems very strange to me to be liking a bilagaana soldier right now, but there is something there between us.”
“I can understand. I like Mrs. Woolcott.”
“That small woman who gave you her paper with the canyon walls on it?”
“Yes.”
“She must have some power of her own, that woman, to be able to capture the colors of the rock.”
“I think so, but I don’t think she knows it.”
“Well, wife, who knows whether we can keep these friends. But I told Burke today that the Diné live in the present. I suppose I lied if I am so worried about tomorrow.”
“You are Manuelito’s nephew. You could be headman someday. You worry because you care and I love you for it. But I hope you are wrong about this, my dear husband.”
“So do I.” He stroked her cheek with his finger. “Perhaps tonight will bring us a son or daughter.”
Serena’s eyes filled with tears.
“We’ll never forget our little one, wife.”
Serena swallowed her tears. “I know. And perhaps it is a good time to have hope for a new life.”
Chapter Eleven
Three days after the races was when Elizabeth had promised to bring the puppy home. She had managed to get him almost four weeks with his mother and the fact that he was the only puppy nursing showed. Although his legs were a little shaky, he looked at least a week older than he was, and Elizabeth was sure he would do well, especially since he was used to the nursing bottle.
“And probably ready to start lapping milk from a bowl, aren’t you,” she crooned as she picked him up and pressed her face to his.
She didn’t hear the step behind her and she jumped and nearly dropped the puppy when she heard Michael’s voice.
“Sure and is that the wee creature that almost started a war, Mrs. Woolcott?”
Without thinking, Elizabeth responded tartly, “No, Sergeant Burke, it was that ‘craytur’ of your lieutenant. This pup is a fine little fellow and I am taking him home with me today.” Immediately after she spoke she blushed. She had committed one of the cardinal sins of the army: she had criticized a superior officer to one of his men.
“I shouldn’t have said that, Sergeant Burke. Mr. Cooper is a fine officer,” she said in her most proper voice, “and he is being most kind to let me have this puppy.”
Michael lowered his voice. “Mr. Cooper is a proper ass, so full of himself that he nearly got us all killed on Sunday. You know that and I know it, ma’am. And don’t worry, I won’t be corrupted by yer lapse in etiquette,” he added, his eyes laughing down at her. He reached his hand over the stall door and stroked the puppy’s head. “Sure and he seems a fine dog. I have always thought me-self that purebreds can sometimes be too high-strung and sensitive. A mixed breed often gets the strength of both parents without the weaknesses.”
Elizabeth was holding the puppy against her breast and as Michael’s finger continued stroking, he became aware of a very strong desire to be following her curves with his finger. He gave the little dog a quick pat and opened the stall door.
“Why don’t ye take him now, Mrs. Woolcott, while I stay here and keep Misty from following. She might be a wee upset at losing her baby.”
“Thank you, Sergeant. That is very kind of you. And it would be even kinder of you to forget what I said about Mr. Cooper.”
Michael gave her a quick bow and a. smile, and said, “Yes, ma’am. And may I say, Mrs. Woolcott, that wee fat fellow there is lucky to be going’ home with ye. I heard his brothers were drowned.”
Elizabeth made some sort of flustered thank you and good-bye and hurried off, leaving Michael leaning over the stall door, watching her go. He heard a low whine behind him and felt the greyhound bitch press against his leg. “Oh, I know ye’d like me to let ye out of here, Misty, to go off after yer baby. But he’ll be fine,” said Michael, scratching behind her ears. “And I’m sure yer master’ll be breedin’ ye again and this time ye’ll get to keep all yer babbies.” He opened the stall door and slipped out, closing it quickly behind him. As he walked toward his quarters to clean up for dinner, he couldn’t stop thinking of how sweet and desirable the prim and proper Mrs. Woolcott had looked cuddling her puppy. “Sweet Mary, Mother of God, keep me from thinking such a thought,” he pra
yed desperately. “She’s a married woman, Michael Joseph Burke, and not for the likes of ye anyway.” He decided that a visit to Mary Ann’s would be a good idea tonight. Fornication might be a mortal sin, but surely God would forgive a poor Irishman who had no chance in hell of getting married for a while. And surely it was better to go to Mary Ann occasionally than be lettin’ himself be wondering what Mrs. Woolcott’s breast would feel like under his fingers.
* * * *
“Are ye going to Mrs. Casey’s tonight, then, Josh,” Michael asked as he slipped onto the bench next to Elwell in the mess hall.
Elwell grinned. “I was thinking about it.”
“Well, I think I’d like to come along and see if Mary Ann is free. Would ye mind the company?”
“Not at all, Sergeant, I would enjoy it, and I’m sure the women would. I’ll meet you after supper.”
* * * *
Mrs. Casey had been a laundress for five years and her “seniority” had gained her a nice room and a half. The four of them squeezed into her sitting room and Elwell pulled a pint of whiskey out of his jacket.
“Here, Ginny,” he said as Mrs. Casey offered her glass. “And Mary Ann. And, Michael, will you join us tonight?”
“Just a wee drop,” said Michael as always. He never had had any problem with whiskey and he never intended to. He’d seen too many Irishmen on the streets of New York who had drunk their lives away.
“Cheers,” said Elwell, lifting his glass.
“Slainte,” said Michael.
The others finished the bottle quickly and Elwell and Mrs. Casey were soon wrapped around each other and clearly ready to retire into her bedroom.
Mary Ann tugged on Michael’s sleeve. “Come, Michael, we’ll go next door and give them their privacy.”
“I doubt they’ll notice whether we’re here or not,” said Michael with a grin as he let himself be led next door.
Mary Ann lit the kerosene lamp by her bed. She kept her small quarters very clean and neat, something that Michael liked and admired in her. It was hard enough to keep the sand and dust out when you were an officer’s wife with a striker to help you. And although her bedspread was worn, it was brightened by a homemade afghan.
The lamp shone on Mary Ann as she stretched herself out on her bed and brought out the red highlights in her dark brown hair. She was at least five years older than Michael and he suspected that the red came from henna, but he didn’t care. She was an attractive woman, was Mary Ann, whatever her age. He sat on the edge of the bed and slowly unbuttoned his blouse while she lay there watching him.
“You looked fine on Sunday, Michael, riding your mare. I’m sorry you lost. I thought you had the race till the last few minutes.”
“The blood bay and Frost are well matched, and I just might be taking turns winning.”
When he turned to her after pulling off his boots and trousers, her skirts were lifted and she was reaching down to loosen her garters.
“Can I help you with those, Mary Ann,” he whispered.
“Thank you, Michael.”
He peeled the stockings off her slowly and then reached up under her skirts to trace her thighs with his fingers. He pulled himself up next to her and rested on one elbow while he unbuttoned her blouse and lifted her shift over her head. She was a plump woman and her breasts were round and firm and spilled over his hand when he went to cup one.
He lowered his head and teased one nipple with his tongue and she pulled his head closer with one hand and reached down with the other to feel him through his skivvies.
He shivered as she touched him and she whispered, “Do you need me right away?”
“I’ll try to wait, but I’m not sure I can be promising anything.” Dear God, but he had been feeling like he was going to burst since he walked into her bedroom. Or to be honest with himself, all afternoon. But he banished the thought of a smaller, daintier woman and pulling down his underwear, let himself spring free. When she rubbed her hand along him, he groaned and pulled himself on top of her. His hands reached up to knead her breast and then he was up and thrusting into her, hoping she was ready enough for him. But she was slick and wet and he came very quickly and then collapsed on top of her.
She lay still for a moment and then taking his hand, guided it down between her legs. He began to kiss her again and she came almost as quickly as he had. He was glad, for he liked women in general and Mary Ann in particular and liked giving her pleasure. And tonight he had not exactly been an ideal lover.
“That was a wee bit quicker than usual,” he whispered. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“I don’t mind when someone has to have me quick because he’s wanting me so much,” she whispered back. “And you took good care of me, too, Michael. Perhaps we’ll go slower in the morning.”
And indeed, when they awoke before dawn, Michael took her slowly and carefully. She was a hardworking woman with a hard life, Mary Ann was, and she deserved to have someone thinking of her once in a while, even if she was doing it for a little extra money. But although he had no trouble, he did feel a little removed from her and himself. He liked Mary Ann and he needed her, but he didn’t love her nor did she love him. Not that he expected it or even wanted it between them, but it just left him with a lonely feeling as they lay together for a while before he had to go.
Chapter Twelve
Elizabeth got very little sleep for the next week. At first the puppy merely whimpered outside the door, but when that didn’t bring him any company, he started crying in earnest. Thomas was tired enough from his day’s work to turn over and go back to sleep, but Elizabeth couldn’t stand the heartbroken yowling and she would get up several times a night and sit the pup down on her lap and pet him until he went back to sleep. Then she would lay him down gently in the old basket that was his bed and they’d both sleep for an hour or so before he started again.
After a night or two she snuck him into bed with them, but when Thomas saw him in the morning, he put his foot down.
“Absolutely not, Lizzie.”
“But, Thomas, at least he slept last night.” And so did I, she added to herself. She daren’t complain about him, since he was her idea.
“It is a bad habit to develop, my dear. I guarantee, you will not want him in our bed when he is full grown and has been rolling around with the other dogs.”
So she continued to get up and thought she was going to die of exhaustion until, finally, Mrs. Taggert from next door gave her some advice.
“Wrap a hot water bottle in a towel, Mrs. Woolcott, and put it in his basket with him and he will do fine.”
It worked, thank God, and finally things were back to normal in the Woolcott household. More or less. For as the puppy got bigger, he set out to explore everything and chew everything, including Thomas’s favorite sheepskin slippers.
Thomas was furious when he found the puppy worrying at them, but when he pulled the slippers away and started to yell at the little dog, both the puppy and his wife gave him such pleading looks that he could only laugh.
“Take it then, you little monster. This one is ruined anyway,” he said ruefully.
“Thank you, Thomas, for hot making me get rid of him,” his wife said later as they curled up in bed together, “He is very bright, and as he gets older, he’ll understand things better, I am sure.”
But Elizabeth was a pushover for the puppy’s apologetic looks. When she would chastise him gently, he would sink down on his fat little stomach and wag his tail and look at her beseechingly, as though to say, “I know, and I’ll never do it again.”
As he got older, he grew more out of control, but Elizabeth was not yet willing to admit she had a problem with him, although the whole fort was by now aware of what havoc the little dog was creating in the Woolcott household. The enlisted men were now betting as to when the lieutenant would shoot the little bugger, and those that had bet sooner rather than later were greatly optimistic when he came to parade one morning with a hole chewed out of
his best hat.
“I don’t know what to do,” Thomas confessed to his commanding officer one afternoon. “He is a charmer, I have to admit. And she is crazy about him. But she hasn’t the least idea how to discipline him and then when I try, she looks at me as if I were a monster.”
“I’ve seen women like that with their children.”
“But you can’t drown children, sir, and I hate to say it, but I am ready to take the little bastard and drown him in the horse trough where his brothers died!”
“How soon were you thinking of doing this,” asked the colonel with a big smile.
“Oh God, they’re betting on it!” groaned Thomas.
“A few, here and there.”
Thomas gave a disgusted groan and stalked out. Tonight he was going to lay down the law: either she was firm with the little dog, or else.
It was unfortunate, then, that the puppy chose that very afternoon to pull Thomas’s best blouse down from the laundry line and start chewing off the brass buttons. When Elizabeth looked out the kitchen window and saw him, she felt her heart sink. This would be the last straw, and she wouldn’t blame Thomas if he came home and wrung the puppy’s neck as he had threatened to do.
She walked out the back door slowly, a crumbled piece of bacon in her hand. “Here, puppy, here you are.” The little dog stopped worrying at the buttons and cocked his head. Wagging his tail, he started to prance over to get his favorite treat. Elizabeth sprinkled some bacon in front of him and darted for the shirt. He saw her out of the corner of his eye and reached it before she did. He ran off, dragging the blouse through the dust, with Elizabeth after him. At first she crooned to him in a sweet, low voice, the voice she usually used with him. He would turn around and come close and she would think she had him and just as she’d reach for the shirt, he would scamper out of the way, his eyes dancing.
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