by Judith Pella
“I wouldn’t want you to overwork yourself, Captain O’Brian,” she said snidely. “Therefore, I am prepared to complete my journey home without your help. My situation came about because of my desire to shorten the distance home. I shouldn’t have gone by way of the alley, but what’s done is done. Now that the danger is past, there should be no further need for your services.”
He smiled. “Pretty speech, but I’m coming with you just the same.”
“You are a stubborn man, Captain.”
“Yes, ma’am. Most stubborn,” he said, not in the leastwise worried that she’d just insulted him.
Jordana considered the situation for a moment. She could either wait for him to give up and go away, an unlikely scenario, or she could just allow him to walk her home. The latter seemed the simpler solution.
“If I allow you to walk me home,” she said, eyeing him carefully, “would you promise me something?”
“Depends on what that something is.”
“I don’t want my brother to know about this little mishap. He would only worry and then blame himself. He has enough on his mind, and it wouldn’t be fair.”
“Shouldn’t you have considered that before taking the alley?”
She clenched her jaw to keep from saying the first thing that came to mind, which was that Captain O’Brian had no right to interfere in her life and that he should leave her alone and mind his own business. However, her mother had always said you could catch more flies with molasses than vinegar.
“I should have,” she finally managed to say after calming down. “But I wasn’t thinking clearly. It’s my birthday, and I think I’m entitled to be a bit in the clouds, if you will.” She didn’t really feel that way but figured he might be the sentimental kind who would make allowances for her feminine charms.
“Your birthday, eh? What are you now, fifteen—sixteen?”
Jordana gasped. “I’m eighteen, not that it’s any of your business! I mean, how ungallant to ask a lady her age.”
“How unladylike to require a gentleman to come to your rescue in a darkened alleyway. You know the type of women who usually frequent those locations.”
Jordana stamped her foot. “Oh, you infuriate me! All I ask is for you to spare my brother’s feelings, but you’d think I’d just asked you to single-handedly put an end to the war.”
“That would probably be easier.”
She shook her head and sighed. “Will you please not say anything to my brother?”
“Will you promise to never again be so foolish?”
“Deal.”
“Done,” he said, taking hold of her elbow. “Now, if you would be so kind as to offer up the directions to your home.”
Jordana instructed him, then fell silent. She had never known a more irritating man in her life. And this was only their second meeting. What would it be like if she had to see him on a daily basis?
O’Brian whistled a tune as though he hadn’t a care in the world—although Jordana guiltily watched him reach behind to rub his back from time to time. She wished most fervently that she hadn’t clobbered him with the firewood, but what was done was done.
O’Brian stopped whistling for a moment as they crossed the street and headed up the opposite side. “I see your hair is growing back,” he commented out of the silence.
“Yes, I suppose so.” Jordana reached up and touched the curls that now fell just below her shoulders. She had been forced to cut her hair in order to escape from the bushwhacker who had been holding it to keep her captive.
She hated pinning her hair up, hated even more allowing Caitlan to fuss over it for lengthy moments in the morning prior to their leaving for work. Caitlan had enough to do working as a housekeeper for the Cavendish family. She didn’t need to start her day off by dressing Jordana’s hair.
She waited for O’Brian to make some other comment about it looking silly or being completely out of keeping with the styles of the day, but instead he began to whistle again.
She couldn’t imagine what Brenton would say when she showed up at the door with Captain O’Brian, and given the lateness of the hour, she supposed she should do the only polite thing and invite him to stay for dinner.
“Captain O’Brian,” she said as her little whitewashed house came into view, “I do appreciate your taking time away from your busy schedule to walk me home.”
“My schedule isn’t all that busy at this point, so it’s not a problem.”
She swallowed hard as she looked over at him. From the crossed sabers on his black felt hat to the gold trim on his uniform jacket, Captain O’Brian made a striking figure in his Union blue. She instantly thought of her old friend G. W. Vanderbilt. G.W. had cut a dashing presence in his uniform as well. She wondered where G.W. was now and how he was faring. Only last winter they had received news of his family taking him to Europe to recover his health. She tried not to think too often of G.W., but walking here with Captain O’Brian made that rather difficult. G.W. and O’Brian probably had much in common. Both were strong, prideful men, she decided. Both were stubborn, and both liked to boss her around.
But the similarities probably went no further than that. G.W. was born the youngest son of Commodore Vanderbilt, one of the richest men in America, and G.W. had asked her to be his wife. Remembering those painful moments when she had refused him caused Jordana much discomfort. G.W. had refused to speak to her since, and even though his illness was thought to very possibly be terminal, she had no way of knowing if he had forgiven her for breaking his heart.
Men! she thought and sighed heavily. What did they know of women and life? They were so busy being caught up in playing soldier and fighting wars that they seldom took time to understand their feminine counterparts. Why, Captain O’Brian probably knew more about horses than he did about women. This made her smile.
“I don’t think you’ve heard a word I said,” O’Brian commented, halting at Jordana’s gate.
She shook her head. “No, I don’t suppose I have. I’ve been deep in thought.”
“Plotting against me?” His blue eyes glinted wryly.
She looked up and saw the teasing in his eyes. “Yes,” she replied, nodding enthusiastically. “That’s the way I intend to spend the rest of my days.”
“Somehow,” he said, rubbing his back, “I wouldn’t put that past you.”
She smiled. “Well, I’d like to start tormenting you by asking you to stay for dinner. Caitlan is quite the cook, and she will have prepared something hearty and delicious for our meal.”
“Harsh treatment indeed,” O’Brian replied with a hint of a grin. “But I believe I am up to the challenge. I would be delighted to share company with your brother again. We had no chance to truly acquaint ourselves at our last meeting.”
And indeed they had not, for Jordana remembered almost nothing about it, other than O’Brian rescuing her and taking her back to their camp, where Brenton waited nervously for some word on how the women had fared after being stolen away by Missouri border ruffians. O’Brian had done little more than dump her off his horse, introduce himself, and tip his hat before riding off to take the renegades to the nearest fort.
The memory caused Jordana to reach her hand up to the place where the bullet had grazed her arm. O’Brian noted this and gave her the briefest nod.
“I see you recovered from your injuries.”
“Yes, but a horrid infection set in,” she replied matter-of-factly. “It probably had something to do with that hideous concoction you poured on the wound when you dressed it.”
He laughed out loud at this, surprising Jordana. For although he had given her slight smiles while on their walk to her house, Jordana saw him as a stoic, businesslike man. Now he laughed at her comment as though they were the best of old friends.
“Well, you’d better come and let me reacquaint you with the family,” Jordana said, reaching to open the little white picket gate. “I’m sure my brother will be happy for the company after living so long with
out regular male companionship.”
“Then by all means, lead the way.”
Jordana nodded and walked up the path without any assistance from Captain O’Brian. She was surprised to find the house so quiet. Usually she could hear Caitlan singing even as she stepped onto the tiny porch.
Opening the door, Jordana nearly jumped off the porch, and might have had Captain O’Brian not been directly behind her.
“Happy birthday!” came the shouts of at least a dozen people.
“Surprise!” said Brenton, coming forward to welcome her.
Jordana looked at them in stunned silence for several moments. “A party?” she murmured, catching sight of a cake on the table.
“You did say it was your birthday,” O’Brian whispered in her ear.
She startled even more at his warm breath against her neck and quickly moved into her brother’s embrace. “I can’t believe you planned a party for me.”
“Well, it was Caitlan’s idea. She wanted to do something special for you, and I thought, ‘Why not?’ So here we are.”
Caitlan squeezed past a couple of the neighbors to give Jordana a hug. “Happy birthday.”
“Oh, thank you so much,” Jordana replied, hugging Caitlan tightly. “You are so good to me.”
“No, ’tis good ya are to meself,” Caitlan replied, her Irish brogue thick with her emotion. She stepped back and her green eyes caught sight of the cavalryman behind Jordana. “And ya’ve brought the good captain who saved our lives.”
“Yes,” Jordana said, noting Brenton’s immediate interest. “Captain O’Brian and I chanced to meet.” She looked quickly back at the man as if daring him to say otherwise.
Instead, Captain O’Brian merely nodded, took the hat from his head, and gave a short bow. “Miss Baldwin was good enough to invite me to supper.”
“But of course,” Brenton replied before anyone else could speak. “You must come in and stay for the party. Caitlan has fixed a fine supper, and there’s to be much revelry. We can talk of the news and of how you came to be in Omaha.”
Jordana frowned. She hadn’t really given his appearance in Omaha much consideration. But now that she did, it was rather strange that he should be here instead of securely stationed at his Kansas fort.
“I was given a special assignment,” he told them, eyeing the group quickly. “I’m here with a small company to lend support and security to the Union Pacific surveying team.”
“Wonderful!” Brenton declared. “Then I know we must talk.”
O’Brian rubbed his back and grimaced as he sat in the parlor, but nevertheless he nodded amicably to Brenton’s suggestion.
“Are you injured, Captain?” Brenton asked, not missing the cavalryman’s action.
O’Brian looked at Jordana and smiled ever so slightly.
“It’s just something that pains me from time to time,” he replied.
Jordana arched her dark brow and smiled sweetly. “Well, hopefully, it will never trouble you again, Captain O’Brian. In the meantime, why don’t you wish me a happy day and come share in the fun.” It was more a statement than a question.
“I believe I would like that very much, Miss Baldwin, and may I indeed wish you the happiest of days.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Jordana said, turning to see Brenton eyeing her suspiciously. “Now, brother dear, why don’t we get on with the party? I seem to have worked up quite an appetite.”
After a few minutes of visiting in the front room, Caitlan went to call the guests to supper. Jordana started to follow after her, but O’Brian had leaned down to whisper in her ear once again. “Alley fights do make a person hungry, don’t they?”
She elbowed him hard, hearing his breath leave him in a whooshing sound. Stepping forward, she said to Brenton, “I believe Captain O’Brian is feeling a bit taxed. Perhaps you should seat him right away.”
“Certainly,” Brenton replied. “O’Brian, I will put you across from me, and that way you might give me information on all that has been happening in the war. I’ve tried to keep up, but it’s sometimes difficult. Of course, perhaps you’ve not had time to keep apprised of it yourself, since you’ve been recently assigned to help with the railroad.”
The next-door neighbor and his wife and two young daughters came forward to introduce themselves at this point. “I’m Matt Zerick, and this is my wife, Ann, and our daughters, Liddy and Belle.”
“I’m Captain O’Brian.”
“So is it the Injun wars what brung you up to Omaha?” Matt questioned. “I understand there’s been nothin’ but trouble since the Sioux fightin’ in Minnesota.”
O’Brian took his place behind the chair offered him, then nodded. “That’s part of the problem. The Union Pacific would like to see the line go through without interference from the Indians. However, that doesn’t seem likely.”
“Everyone, please take up your glasses,” Brenton announced, placing Jordana at the head of the table. “Jordana, I would like to make a toast.”
She looked up at her brother and found her heart filled with an overwhelming love for him. How could she have doubted that he would remember her birthday?
“We have endured many hardships and adventures together,” Brenton said, holding his glass high, “and in all that time, I cannot imagine having better company or companionship.” He smiled quickly at Caitlan before returning his gaze to Jordana.
Jordana watched as Caitlan’s cheeks flushed red and smiled to herself at the silliness of Brenton and Caitlan’s unspoken love for each other.
“You have been all that a man could want in a sister,” Brenton continued, “and I thank you for your support and care. But today, I honor you, for you are truly a gem among women. Happy birthday, Jordana.”
“Happy birthday!” everyone said, lifting their glasses to her.
Jordana felt her eyes mist. I will not cry, she told herself sternly. I will simply enjoy this wonderful moment and bask in the love given me, but I will not cry. And she might have actually kept to her resolve, but Brenton produced a large gift and placed it before her. A small card on top read, “To our lovely daughter on her eighteenth birthday. Wish we were with you on this day. Love, Mother and Father.”
Wiping her eyes with her napkin, Jordana smiled at her collection of well-wishers. “I will open this later. It seems the onions in Caitlan’s supper are getting the best of me.”
“I’m thinkin’ that ’twould be quite reasonable,” Caitlan replied, “if I’d been usin’ onion in our supper.”
Everyone laughed at this, including Jordana. It was the best possible ending for her day, and even the appearance of Captain O’Brian had done nothing to dampen her spirits. She was loved and her life was good. If her mother had been there, she would have said, “God’s blessings are on you!” And Jordana knew she would have been right, for never before had she felt so blessed.
3
O’Brian listened to the conversations around him, surprised that he’d allowed himself to accept the invitation to Jordana Baldwin’s birthday party. Never in his wildest imagination had he figured to set eyes again on this spitfire of a young woman, but now that he had, he couldn’t help but admit he was enjoying himself.
Jordana Baldwin had a fire about her that he admired. She wasn’t like the fretful, mealymouthed creatures that often crossed his path, and neither was she a society belle intent on her looks and possessions. Instead, she seemed quite happy to enjoy the company of these common folk and to celebrate her birthday with nothing more than a supper in her honor and a small cake.
He watched in silence as she opened the gift from her parents and frowned over the two gold pieces and the note to buy herself something pretty to wear and use the rest for fun. Besides this, her folks had included a collection of books. One in particular, entitled Adventures on the Northern Plains Territories, looked like something O’Brian himself might have enjoyed reading. Jordana looked at each in great excitement and anticipation, completely taking Rich off guard. She
seemed more elated at the prospect of something different to read than the idea of a new wardrobe.
“Jordana is rapidly exhausting the Omaha Library Association’s supply of reading materials,” Brenton said. “It’s always good when Mother and Father send books from home.”
“The library is just as happy when I receive books because I usually donate them to the society as soon as I study them through,” Jordana added.
The party continued with several other small articles offered to Jordana to honor her birthday. Rich felt uncomfortable to be the only one without some such gift, but he knew also that his intrusion had been a last-minute act of graciousness on Jordana’s part.
“It’s probably a little less noisy by the fireplace,” Brenton suggested. “Why don’t we go over there, and you can tell me what plans the UP has devised for the future.”
Glad for the excuse to draw away from the others, Rich and Brenton walked to the fireplace and sat down on small wooden chairs. “I can’t say that I know a great deal about it, Mr. Baldwin. My men and I were singled out for this special assignment after someone wrote to my superior praising our company for our performance in Missouri.”
Brenton’s face reddened. “I have to admit, I did send a letter. My father also wrote, and he probably offered even more praise. I can’t thank you enough for what you did for us. I hope this assignment is one of honor for you.”
Rich frowned. How could he admit that he was miserable over the entire matter? The war had caused enough problems for him, sending most of the regular army off to fight the battle back east. Fort Larned in Kansas had become a home to him after a round of tragedies had left him overwhelmed with life, and he liked it there. He longed only to be back at the fort, drilling his cavalry on the open plains, making the land safe for new settlers.
It was bad enough that he’d been transferred to Fort Leavenworth to fight border wars between Kansas and Missouri, but now he found himself playing nursemaid to a bunch of city folk who were trying to map out a route for a railroad. How could he possibly hope that Brenton Baldwin, a man several years his junior and no doubt comfortable in his own existence, would understand that this wasn’t the life he envisioned for himself? Or, that while he found it honorable, it was far from desirable?