Holding the Fort

by Regina Jennings

  Could they tell by looking that she didn’t belong in the clothes she wore? Did the scent of the Cat-Eye Saloon linger? She couldn’t imagine they’d carry on that way with Mrs. Townsend.

  I am Lovely Lola Bell. She mentally went through her performance warm-up. They will be enchanted with my performance and will love my show.

  “Ma’am.” The officer tipped his hat. “Lieutenant Hennessey at your service. I apologize for your reception. We rarely host unaccompanied ladies here at the fort.”

  It wasn’t every day she was treated so politely. She choked back her stage smile to appear more demure. “No offense taken.”

  “May I ask what brings you to Indian Territory?”

  He was young for a lieutenant but seemed affable enough. Hopefully he’d be agreeable to her suggestion.

  “I’m looking for employment. I thought you had work available.”

  “Here at the fort? I don’t know of anything in particular. We can ask . . . Pardon me, ma’am.” Lieutenant Hennessey had spotted something behind her. “I’ll be right back.”

  He rushed past her. Louisa turned to see what the hubbub was. Someone was being escorted across the green. Dragged across, more specifically. The lieutenant met them. The conversation was short but intense. With a nervous glance at her, he dismissed them to go on their way. Louisa wondered what the man in custody had done. Was he a dangerous man, or just high-spirited like her brother?

  Just like her brother! Louisa narrowed her focus. She hadn’t seen Bradley in months. The boy she remembered was thinner, paler, and his hair was not quite so bleached by the sun . . . but that was him. It was her brother being arrested. Again. This time right in front of her eyes. But what could she do about it? No job for her. No help for him.

  “Forgive me.” Lieutenant Hennessey had returned. “I didn’t mean to leave you waiting. As I was saying . . .” He stared at the crate at her feet. “Are these your packages?”

  How could she talk about a delivery when they were arresting her brother? She dragged her eyes away from Bradley. Her performance must continue. No distractions.

  “Yes, sir. I’m to deliver these educational materials that Major Adams requested.”

  Her response must have been correct, for his countenance changed. “Why didn’t you say so? Of course, we have a position for you, and I apologize for the confusion. When Major Adams told me that he’d sent for a teacher for his girls, well, I didn’t expect those missionaries to send . . .” He looked away. “My apologies again, ma’am. Normally Major Adams would be here to greet you, but he’s indisposed at the moment. I’ll have your things delivered to your quarters.”

  His hand rose into the air. Instantly a soldier appeared. The lieutenant barked some orders, and her things were carted away. But Louisa didn’t quite understand.

  “Excuse me,” she said, pushing away her worries about her brother, “did you say teacher?”

  With an extended arm, he motioned in the direction that her bag had been taken. “Do you prefer governess? I beg your pardon, Miss . . .”

  “Miss Bell,” she said.

  “Miss Bell. You will be a great asset to the Adams household, I’m sure.”

  A governess? Louisa bit her lip. It was the old clothes—they were throwing him off. Otherwise he’d never consider a woman like her to teach book learning. Not if he knew.

  She should correct him. She should tell him that she wasn’t the governess. But with no other jobs available and Bradley in trouble . . .

  The gravel path they traveled encircled the middle grounds of the fort. Long buildings lined two sides of the main square—barracks, perhaps—but the orderly setting did not calm her emotions. She had to do something for Bradley, but what? The only way to stay at the fort was to go along with the lieutenant’s mistake. It wouldn’t be for long.

  Ahead was what looked to be very comfortable houses—at least houses finer than any in her part of town. They’d be more fitting in a nice neighborhood or on a prosperous farm. And she was to live here? Louisa had never lived in anything this fine or conversed with anyone who did. She was beginning to wonder if she and Bradley had any business with these people at all.

  They stopped before the center house, the one lined up perfectly across from the flagpole in the middle of the parade ground. It was so big, she wasn’t even sure which door was the entrance—the center one, or the French doors that flanked it on each side?

  “Private Gundy assists with the house,” Lieutenant Hennessey said. “He can show you to your room. Major Adams has surely been in contact with you about your students.”

  Louisa twisted a blond curl around her finger. She’d always been half afraid of those respectable ladies who scorned the likes of her mother, but she’d hoped someday to be able to pass as one of them. She just hadn’t counted on doing it so soon. And a governess had different expectations than a music teacher. Governesses were staid, respectable, severe, while music teachers . . . well, everyone expected a music teacher to be flighty.

  Then again, all she had to do was spend a day watching over some children and maybe teach them the alphabet and their numbers. It was work and a roof over her head. And it would give her a chance to see what kind of trouble Bradley was in now.

  A governess? Just another role to play. Only she wished it wasn’t in Major Adams’s household. Hopefully his wife would be understanding. That was usually how it was with these imperative men. The more insufferable the man, the more saintly the wife. She hoped it held true for the Adams household.

  “Major Adams?” she asked. “Where did you say he was?”

  The young officer’s face showed a trace of concern. “He is unavailable. I’ll post a sentry at the house. Should you need anything, they will alert me immediately.”

  Nice Lieutenant Hennessey was in command now? Then he might be in a position to show some mercy to Bradley. She’d do well to earn his trust while she had the opportunity.

  She stopped in front of the porch, where a trooper stood guarding her bag and the crate of books. “Lieutenant Hennessey, may I have a word with you in private?”

  Her request surprised him, but she had his full attention. “Of course, ma’am.” He offered her his arm and escorted her off the gravel path onto the green, away from any eavesdroppers behind open windows. “Is this private enough, or would you like to visit my office?”

  Louisa looked both ways. “It’ll do. I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others, but I’m concerned about one of your troopers.”

  The good humor vanished. His young face settled into determined lines. “Go on.”

  Actually, she was concerned about a couple of his troopers, but she couldn’t ask about Bradley. Not yet. “Earlier today, while waiting for the stagecoach, I came across a cavalryman. I couldn’t tell you his rank because he’d removed his coat, but he was riding near the Red Fork Ranch.”

  “He was alone?”

  “Yes, completely alone. He rode by me at a great speed but lost control of his horse and went flying to the ground. I ran to help him, but he’d suffered an injury to his head and didn’t respond to any of my questions.”

  The lieutenant crackled with energy. “You saw his accident? And you say he was alone? No one attacked him?”

  “There was no one else there. When he recovered enough to get up, he rode off without a word. I fear for his well-being, if he isn’t recovered.”

  “Let me get this straight.” The lieutenant spoke slowly. “He fell off his horse? Just like that. No one was pursuing him or harassing him?”

  This was the part Louisa didn’t want to admit. She didn’t want to stir up trouble, but telling the truth might help them identify the injured trooper.

  “I don’t want to get him in trouble.”

  His eyebrow rose. “There are no secrets here on base, Miss Bell.”

  She sighed. “He was trick riding. Standing in the saddle.”

  Lieutenant Hennessey must not have heard her. His face went completely
blank. His mouth opened, but it took him a few tries to come up with something to say. “I’m afraid I’m going to need more information. He was standing in the saddle, out of uniform?”

  “Well, he had his shirt and his trousers on. I would imagine the boots were too slick to balance in.”

  “He was riding in his sock feet?”

  “No socks. Barefoot.”

  At this, he turned his back to her and commenced with the most frightful fit of coughing. She couldn’t tell if he was moved by concern for his fellow officer or merely shocked. When he turned to face her again, he was mopping his eyes with his handkerchief. “Excuse me,” he said. “This cavalryman that you saw was standing in the saddle when he lost control of his horse and was thrown onto his head. Is that the account you wish to report?”

  “Oh, no! I do not wish to report it. I only want to make sure he’s safe.”

  “Did he see you?”

  “Certainly. I tried to give him aid, but he wouldn’t accept it. He left without a word.”

  “Could he hear you?”

  “I’d say so. He was lying in my lap.”

  Was Lieutenant Hennessey having some kind of an attack? He’d marched away to wheeze with his hands on his knees, leaving Louisa convinced that the last part probably should’ve gone unsaid.

  “Lieutenant Hennessey?” she called. He raised a hand, asking for time while he caught his breath.

  “I beg your pardon.” Again he wiped his eyes. “Your account has been most, most helpful.”

  “Aren’t you concerned about the rider?”

  “He made it to the fort. He’s being cared for now.”

  “But I don’t want him to get into trouble. I thought by telling you instead of Major Adams that you might be lenient with him.”

  An unabashed smile spread across the lieutenant’s face. “You came to the right man, no doubt about it. But there’s no reason for you to mention this to anyone else.”

  Which was what she wanted, but . . . “I thought you said there were no secrets at this fort.”

  “We need to know what our troopers are up to, but when officers have secrets, we call that information confidential.” He gestured toward the crate of books. “Shall we go?”

  Louisa hiccupped and then smiled to cover her sudden nerves. “Lead on.”

  Chapter Six

  Louisa’s stomach let her know that supper time had passed. This world of saluting and marching was foreign to her, just as foreign as the quiet, tidy row of houses.

  Just a few hours, she told herself as she waited on the porch. Fill in as the governess until you have time to find Bradley. If something went wrong, then she’d claim, like the missionary lady, that the environment didn’t agree with her, and she’d hop back on a stagecoach to Wichita. No one would ever know that Bradley Willis’s sister had visited him. The last thing he needed was to get in even more trouble because of her.

  At Lieutenant Hennessey’s knock, the door was opened by a thin man with a shock of brown hair. He wore a stained apron over his cavalry uniform, and his feet splayed wide, like the floor was rocking and he had to keep his balance.

  “Private Gundy, this is Miss Bell. She’s the new governess.”

  Private Gundy vigorously scrubbed his hands on the apron, which probably only made them dirtier. “Here, let me help you with that case.” He hooked the handle and swung it away from the trooper. “The girls have been waiting for you.”

  His welcome felt as warm as the three-o’clock sun.

  “Nice to meet you, Private Gundy.”

  “Those your books?” he asked. “Just leave them by the door, and I’ll fetch them later.”

  “Gundy, do you know what room Miss Bell is staying in?” Lieutenant Hennessey asked.

  The private grinned. “I have to say, she don’t look like a Darlington woman.”

  “She is here at the request of Major Adams. Her room?”

  Louisa was on the verge of asking who the Darlington women were when she remembered hearing that name before. Something to do with Mrs. Townsend. Perhaps she should keep her questions to herself.

  Gundy turned and headed toward the staircase, but his steps were uneven. Just below his knee, a strange crease appeared in his trousers with each step. A brace?

  Seeing her confusion, Lieutenant Hennessey said, “Private Gundy has a wooden leg, but he didn’t want to leave the cavalry. He’ll rustle you up something to eat when you’re ready. Have a good evening.”

  “Wait.” Louisa kept one eye on her host and the other on the man stomping up the stairs. “I’m staying here?” There had to be a mistake. This house was finer than any she’d ever been in before. The candelabra sparkled with crystals dripping from its curved arms, and a white tablecloth adorned a long dining table in the room to her right.

  “What arrangements did you make with Major Adams?”

  Louisa chewed her lip. Of course, she had no idea what arrangements had been made. Could it be worse than a room behind the kitchen at the Cat-Eye? Better not to rock the boat. “I’m sure everything is satisfactory.” She smiled as if delighted. “Thank you for your help.”

  “Yes, ma’am. And if you need anything, I’m right next door.”

  The floor creaked as Gundy climbed the stairs. “This blamed leg. I don’t make it up here often, but when I do, I take my time.”

  “I appreciate it,” Louisa said. She didn’t want to irritate him, not if her next meal depended on him.

  The stairs ran up the right side of the entryway. The beautiful wood paneling had been well cared for, and she imagined that the white painted balusters had to be washed frequently with small children in the home. The stairs opened at the top to a small landing surrounded by closed doors.

  Private Gundy pointed to the door in the far corner. “That one’s yours.”

  He turned to face Louisa and watched her closely as she made her way down the spotless hall. She turned the brass knob and peeked into the room. By the light of the lamp on a little table, she saw a virginal metal-framed bed with a white coverlet. A wardrobe painted robin’s-egg blue stood next to the window. A dressing screen was set aside to show the washstand and the ceramic pitcher and basin. Louisa stepped into the room, picked up the lamp, and worked her way to the mirror. Its gilt frame glowed warmly in the lamplight. Louisa was almost surprised to see her reflection looking back at her. She didn’t feel like herself in this drab clothing, but at least the same face greeted her from the mirror.

  Her lodging secured, the next step was to find Bradley. She set the lamp on the end table next to her bed and turned to Private Gundy. “So how long have you been at the fort?”

  “Since the beginning. 1874. But I’m not in the cavalry proper anymore.” He swung his leg forward. “But I don’t mind. No more marching. I get kitchen duty now.”

  Louisa tried for some information. “I’ve never been to a fort before. I wondered what all those buildings out there are, especially the brick one over that way.”

  “The guardhouse? Why would you be asking about that?”

  Realizing she had no good answer, she went to the window and opened the sash. “It’s stuffy in here,” she said. “I’ll come down for a bite to eat as soon as I wash up. Thank you.”

  Gundy nodded and whistled as he left.

  Back at the Cat-Eye Saloon, Louisa’s room held racks of clothing—odds and ends of expensive fabrics that she’d eventually rework into new costumes. Stacks of music littered every corner, and cosmetics spilled out of every open drawer. And before she moved to the saloon, she’d shared a small space with her energetic younger brother and her tipsy mother. Keeping Bradley out of her mother’s angry reach had been a challenge. She couldn’t imagine having a room this size to herself.

  There was no need to unpack, or maybe there was. If she’d come as a governess, then she needed to at least give the appearance that she was planning to stay. She gripped the handle of her traveling case and braced herself for the heavy load. The bed frame squawked
as she deposited the case on the mattress.

  Louisa closed the door and turned the lock. A governess. Who would’ve thought? She might have made a good teacher had the wheel of luck granted her a better opening act. Had she gone to school, had a father who paid for her books and a mother who had the time to help her with homework, she might have found a respectable position like this, after all.

  Facing the mirror, she wondered if she could look respectable. Her china-doll complexion was prized by her admirers, but would children take her seriously? She could perform, she could keep an audience’s attention, but could she impart any kind of wisdom? Her brows lowered. If she had the kind of wisdom people prized, she’d do a fine job imparting it left and right. But most parents didn’t want their young ladies to learn how to keep a chair between themselves and a besotted admirer. They didn’t want to discuss the application of cosmetics or which foods you should avoid to keep from belching during a performance.

  She couldn’t teach anything that proper children needed to know.

  The locks on Louisa’s old traveling case had a bad habit of sticking. She jostled the case to loosen the latch, then when that failed, she pounded it with the heel of her hand. One at a time, they sprang open. The lifted lid released the warm, fruity smell of her perfume. Louisa shook out a red taffeta skirt trimmed in black velvet. Taking a hanger, she placed it in the wardrobe. Even if she left tomorrow, it wouldn’t hurt to air out the clothes after the harsh ride they’d had.

  Next, she lifted her yellow silk, which had never been her favorite. The only thing she could find to admire about the outfit was the matching fringe-covered shawl and gloves, but they would look out of place on the prairie. She set the gloves on the washstand and tried to hang the shawl on the hanger with the gown, but it fell to the floor next to the bed. Louisa deposited the gown in the wardrobe, then came back for the shawl. But it was gone.

  She stopped in the middle of the room. Her eyes traced the floorboards from one corner of the room to the other. They’d dealt with rats at the Cat-Eye Saloon, but they weren’t known to snatch accessories right out from under your feet. Something was wrong.