"Papa!" Meggie shrieked, throwing herself against him and wrapping her arms around his waist. "Papa! You've been gone so long!"
Drew grinned and caught his daughter up in his arms. Laughing, he bussed her on the cheek and suffered through a neck-snapping hug.
"We made rabbit-fur slippers while you were gone," she declared. "And frosted fried cakes. And built a bed for my dolly out of sticks."
Drew looked up and saw Cassie watching them. His belly suddenly buzzed with uneasiness, and his palms were damp inside his leather gauntlets.
"I'm glad you both managed to keep busy. I thought about you and wondered what you were doing."
He extended his hand to Cassie, and she came toward him across the dusty grass. She smiled, tentative and almost hopeful.
"Reynolds?" Major McGarrity's voice shattered the faint connection he and Cassie had made. "I know you must be eager to spend time with your family after being away, but there's something we need to discuss." He hesitated ominously. "Would you and Cassandra step into my office?"
Drew felt Cassie stiffen beside him. There was something in her eyes—dread or uncertainty or maybe even guilt—that turned the pleasure of his return to towering apprehension. Still, he acknowledged the order with a nod and guided Cassie up the steps.
* * *
Cassie handed Meggie off to one of the orderlies in the anteroom and followed Drew into McGarrity's office, uneasiness swarming over her like ants. When Hunter followed them inside and closed the door, the air in her lungs went cold and thin.
McGarrity motioned her and Drew to the chairs before his desk and settled himself behind it. "Jalbert has just returned from the Sioux and Cheyenne camps up along the Powder River," the major began. "While he was there he discovered something that seemed quite odd."
"Odd?" Drew asked.
He didn't seem to know what McGarrity was referring to, but Cassie had begun to suspect.
"Jalbert found a can of condensed milk that appears to be from one of the licensed traders," McGarrity enlightened them.
Cassie's face flushed with guilt.
"Condensed milk?" Drew asked as if he were genuinely confused. "What's so odd about that? Aren't goods traded to the Indians all the time?"
Drew was being noble. He was trying to protect her. Cassandra warmed all the way down to her toes just knowing that.
"Goods that are sent as annuities go through the Indian agents," McGarrity explained. "Things we send directly are from the commissary department. Both are distinctly marked. Things that come from the licensed traders are marked, too, so they can be regulated."
"It isn't as if we're talking about someone providing the Indians with guns or whiskey or ammunition," Drew argued reasonably. "We're talking about milk..."
"Where there are cans of contraband milk," Hunter put in, "there might well be other things."
"It's something we have to investigate," McGarrity added.
Cassie knew what they were driving at and couldn't let Drew jeopardize his position here at the fort. She had to own up to what she'd done.
"I bought eighteen cans of condensed milk at the sutler's store" she admitted, "and gave them to one of the Indian women."
Neither Hunter nor Major McGarrity seemed surprised by her admission.
"But why did you give an Indian woman milk?" Hunter asked her. "Didn't you know what you were doing was wrong?"
Cassie turned to look at him, surprised that what Hunter thought of her mattered so much.
"I knew I wasn't supposed to buy the milk," she admitted. "I knew I was wrong to give it to Runs Like a Doe, but she came to me and told me her sister's baby would die without it. She asked if I could help her, and after all she'd done for me when I was a captive, I couldn't refuse."
It had been a woman's transaction, based on things far too simple for men to understand.
"Did you give her anything but the milk?" McGarrity asked.
Cassie shook her head.
"Did she ask for anything else?"
"Nothing at all."
"Canned milk is expensive," he went on. "How did you pay for eighteen cans of it?"
"I charged them to Drew's account."
McGarrity shifted his gaze to Drew. "And why didn't you report this, Captain Reynolds?"
Cassie spoke up before Drew could answer. "He didn't know about the milk until the bill came due. I'd bought and given it to Runs Like a Doe weeks before."
"But how did a can of contraband milk get from a Cheyenne woman to the Sioux encampment?" Hunter asked her.
Cassie looked from one man to the other. "I don't know. Sometimes the villages get together for a hunt or a feast." She realized that wasn't the explanation Hunter was looking for, but it was the best she could do.
McGarrity rubbed his beard and glanced at Hunter. "What do you think?"
Hunter shrugged and hunkered down next to Cassie's chair. "It's important that the army and the Bureau of Indian Affairs control what goods make their way to the tribes. You understand that, don't you?"
Cassie didn't see the sense in such control, but nodded anyway.
"Then give the major your word you won't pass supplies to the Cheyenne again."
It was the promise Drew had demanded of her a week or more before. She did what she'd done then, she lied to them.
"I won't," she said.
The major shifted uneasily before he went on. "You haven't seen anyone else you recognize here at the fort, have you, Cassandra? You haven't spoken to them or passed on information?"
Drew shoved to his feet beside her. "For God's sake, Ben, she doesn't pass on information! Nor will she. Nor will I. Nor will Meggie, for that matter. Are you satisfied?"
Cassie stared at him, surprised by the intensity of his defense.
McGarrity made a conciliatory gesture. "They are questions that need to be asked. You know that as well as I do."
"I won't tell anyone anything," Cassie promised, and meant it.
McGarrity drew a breath and nodded, still obviously troubled but satisfied.
"May we go now?" Drew asked his commanding officer. "I've been riding since well before sunup. I caught and delivered a horse thief and nearly thirty head of stock. And frankly, I'm tired."
He pulled Cassie to her feet.
"I'm sorry about this, Reynolds," McGarrity said.
Drew didn't reply, just eased Cassie toward the door.
"Don't forget I'll need you for the hearing tomorrow," the major reminded him. "That's another matter entirely."
Cassie saw Drew turn and give McGarrity a long, withering glance. "Oh, I'll be there to testify, sir. I'll be there to hear the verdict, too. And then, when all's said and done, I'll be there to watch that redskin hang."
Chapter 15
News traveled fast. Gossip traveled faster. By noon the next day, word that Cassie had been providing the hostiles with contraband had circulated through the fort. She could tell by the way the soldiers watched her, the way Alma Parker and Sylvie Noonan glared when they passed by. Two children had thrown stones at Meggie and her, and even Sally McGarrity's "good morning" had been decidedly chilly.
Cassie couldn't figure out how everyone knew. There had been four of them in that office. Drew was too ashamed of what she'd done to speak of it. Hunter would never say a word. And while the major might have told his wife about the milk, Sally didn't gossip.
Who else could have known?
Jessup. The man who refused to understand when she'd stolen those embroidery scissors. The man who persisted in calling her "that squaw woman."
Jessup must have been questioned about the milk. He must have identified the marks on the can and told Hunter and Major McGarrity who bought it. Now Jessup was spreading the story—and what better place for him to do that than in his own store.
She would have thought that everyone was too caught up in the hearing for the horse thief Drew had brought in to bother much with her. But that didn't seem to be the way of it.
She and M
eggie were hauling buckets from the water wagon when they all but collided with Lila Wilcox and her son. Since Lila knew everything that went on at the fort, she'd know about this. Cassie held her breath, waiting for Lila's reaction.
Lila grinned and propped a rough-skinned hand on one wide hip. "You sure do keep things stirred up, don't you, girl?"
"I had my reasons for doing what I did!" Cass spoke up, instinctively defending herself.
Lila laughed. "I'll bet money you did. But before you explain, meet my boy Josh."
Lila turned to where a gangly man in his early twenties stood hefting a loaded wash basket in either arm. "Corporal Josh Wilcox, this here is Captain Reynolds's wife Cassandra."
"Ma'am." Josh nodded, in no position to doff his cap.
"I'm pleased to meet you, Corporal," Cassie said.
"Hello, Josh." Meggie tugged on the cuff of Josh's jacket, determined not to be ignored. "Do you have time to play that walnut shell game with me?"
Josh gave Meggie a smile that lit his face and made him look remarkably like his mother. "Right now I've got these baskets of laundry to take to Ma's cabin, but when I'm done—"
"You're not neglecting your duties, are you, boy?"
"No, ma'am," Josh answered his mother. "I told you I just finished up with my fatigue duty and don't need to be anyplace special 'til evening mess."
"Good enough, then." Lila nodded. "Why don't you take Meggie with you and stop by Captain Reynolds's when you're done."
The two women watched them go, the tiny, fair-haired child running to keep up with Josh's long strides.
"He still seems like such a boy to me," Lila said with a sigh. "Too young to be serving his country the way he does."
"You have every right to be proud of him."
Lila smiled to acknowledge that mother's pride and took one of the buckets Cassie was carrying.
"I've been hearing Jessup's story this whole damned day. Since you're not denying it, I figured I'd better get your side of things."
"Has Jessup said what I gave the Cheyenne?" Cassie asked.
"Contraband," Lila told her. "Most folks figure that means whiskey or guns or ammunition."
"I gave them milk."
"Milk?"
"Eighteen cans of condensed milk."
"Well—well, damn Jessup's eyes!" Lila sputtered. "I suppose canned milk is contraband."
Cass climbed the steps to the cabin. "I want to tell you what happened, so you can judge for yourself."
Once they were settled at the table over cups of fresh-brewed tea, Cass began to talk. "When I first came to the Cheyenne village with my new husband," she began, "I didn't know either the Cheyenne language or Cheyenne customs. Since I had lived as a slave to the Kiowa, I didn't know what was expected of a wife or how to keep a warrior's home.
"Two sisters in the village took it upon themselves to befriend me and teach me everything I needed to know. Blue Flower was newly married, too, so we often did our chores together. We dug roots, picked berries and herbs, or gathered wood almost every day. Runs Like a Doe, the older sister, showed me her secrets for tanning the softest skins. She taught me how to make things from the skins and took me to the quilling and beading society."
"Sounds like they gave you a world of help when you needed it most," Lila said around a sip of tea.
"That's why I couldn't refuse when Runs Like a Doe came to see me two months ago. She said that Blue Flower had given birth to a son, but she had no milk."
"That happens sometimes."
"Though they had done everything they could to save the baby, he was growing weaker every day. Finally Runs Like a Doe decided to come to see if I was able to get them milk in cans. It was a debt of kindness I was glad to pay, so I bought the milk. I gave it to her so a child would live. It wasn't wrong to do that, was it, Lila?"
The older woman reached across and patted Cassie's arm. "Of course you weren't wrong. Saving any child, white or Indian, is never wrong."
Cassie's chest filled with gratitude.
"Still," Lila went on, a frown knitting her brows, "you need to make sure folks know the contraband you gave the Indians is only milk."
"But how can I do that? Not a soul at this fort speaks to me but you and Drew and Sally."
"I'll do what I can to spread the word," Lila promised.
"And I suppose I'll have to face up to Tyler Jessup." But Cassie was hardly prepared to confront the man. For the last nine years she'd submitted. She'd stayed alive by submitting. How could she find the courage to stand up to Jessup and a fort full of people ready to condemn her?
"You want me to go with you to Jessup's store?" Lila asked.
Cass was tempted but refused. "I have to do this by myself. But thank you for offering, Lila. And thank you for your friendship."
The laundress's ruddy face turned a few shades darker. "Posh, girl! You didn't think I'd throw Miss Meggie's mother to the wolves, now, did you?"
Miss Meggie's mother. That wasn't who she was, but Cassie was glad Lila thought of her that way.
Just then, Josh came stumbling through the kitchen door. Meggie was riding him piggyback and howling with delight. Josh backed up, settled her on the end of the table, then stood to tug his uniform back in place.
"That's a damn undignified thing for a United States Army corporal to be doing," Lila scolded.
"Aw, Ma," he answered, blushing in a way that made him look barely old enough to sign enlistment papers. "We were just funning."
"And guess what!" Meggie burst out. "I won three whole pennies playing that walnut game with Josh and his friends."
"Three whole cents," Cassie echoed, shooting Josh a quelling glance.
"I've never seen the like, Ma!" Josh exclaimed. "She picked the right shell every damned—beg pardon, ma'am—every time."
"That's all well and good, son," his mother said, "but I don't think Captain Reynolds would approve of you teaching his daughter to gamble."
Josh's eyes widened. "Oh, I take your point, Ma!"
"And can we go up to the store?" Meggie asked. "I have three whole cents of my own, and I want to buy something."
Cassie's throat went tight. That store was the last place in the world she wanted to go.
"What is it you want that can't wait until later?"
"I want some peppermint drops. The kind Amy Noonan gave me when we were playing."
Cassie sighed, knowing Meggie's stubbornness and recognizing eventual defeat. "You won't need more than a penny for those. Go put the rest of the money away."
"In the rabbit-skin bag?"
"That would be fine."
While Meggie was gone, Lila climbed to her feet. "I'll do what I can to set things straight, but you need to talk to Jessup. And the more people who hear about that milk, the better things will go for you."
Though she knew Lila was right, Cass's hands were shaking as she tidied her hair and tied her bonnet.
The sutler's trading post was busy in midafternoon. More than half a dozen troopers were picking up the essentials the army didn't provide, like soap and bootblack and tobacco. A number of civilians were browsing—people on the Overland Trail who'd stopped for supplies. Several muleteers, a few men dressed in buckskin and fur, and a handful of Indians were buying this and that. It was as good an audience as she was likely to get.
She and Meggie waited their turn. When they reached the counter, Jessup sneered and asked her what she wanted. Cass let Meggie go first, and after fumbling in a jar behind the counter, Jessup handed over a paper cone of peppermint drops.
"And what about you?"
Cassie waited until Meggie was outside before she placed her order. "I'd like a pound of sugar, a can of peaches and one large can of condensed milk." She spoke so loudly that even the poker players in the back could hear her.
Jessup rocked on his heels. "Condensed milk, huh?"
"Yes, Mr. Jessup," Cassie said, tightening both trembling hands around the handle of her shopping basket. "I'd like a can of condens
ed milk—just like the cans of condensed milk I bought from you some weeks ago. The very thing—the only thing—I ever gave the Indians. Condensed milk!"
Before Jessup could speak, Cassandra went on. "You haven't told anyone what contraband I gave the Indians, have you? You've let everyone think it was powder and shot. You haven't told them it was milk to save a baby's life."
"There's some that wouldn't hold with doing that," the sutler warned her. "There's some who think that nits make lice."
"But others believe a child's life is sacred," Cassie countered, keeping her voice steady by dint of will. "A white child or an Indian. Those are the people who will understand what I did. Those are the people you've deliberately misled. Now if you'll be so kind as to give me my things, I've some baking to do before supper."
Scowling from under his brows, Jessup weighed out the sugar, took a can of condensed milk from his replenished supply, and added the peaches to her basket.
"Is that all, Mrs. Reynolds?" Jessup asked.
She could see the malice in his eyes and knew that he had just become an even more dangerous adversary.
"Enough for now."
"And how do you mean to pay for this?"
"Just charge these things to my husband's account," she answered, and spun toward the door.
Though her ears were ringing and her knees wobbled, Cass made her way outside. She braced one hand against the post of the sutler's porch and stood there gasping. Yet she was proud she'd stood up to Jessup and set the story straight. She felt stronger for having done that.
And then she saw the peppermint drops.
They were scattered at the bottom of the steps, small pin-wheels of white and red ground into the dust, a white paper cone lying crumpled beside them. From around the corner of the store she heard someone wailing.
Meggie! Oh God, Meggie!
Cassie flew down the steps toward the child's sharp cry. If someone had deliberately hurt that little girl...
In the narrow, muddy passage between the sutler's store and the blacksmith's shop, Meggie had taken things in hand. She was sitting astraddle some boy who sprawled facedown in the mud, one of her small fists caught deep in his red hair.
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