Holding the Fort

by Regina Jennings

  Louisa never knew how to tell her mother that the gentlemen callers weren’t what Louisa detested. It was her mother’s abuse, the harshness, the stolen childhood that she rued. But maybe those things rode along as stowaways on the track her mother had chosen. So far, Louisa had proven her mother wrong, but since she had her singing, she’d never been tested by hunger and desperation. Without it, what came next for her?

  The governess story had fallen in her lap. For now, it was like a gift from heaven, but it was only a matter of time until she was found out. Until that day, she had meals on the table and a roof over her head—a very nice roof over her head. And she had a reprieve from the sordid world that she belonged in. As long as she could keep up the act.

  If only Major Adams wasn’t so suspicious. It seemed that she couldn’t do anything without attracting his attention. Of course, his activities didn’t escape her notice, either.

  Major Adams had been called away early that morning. Mondays were distribution day at the agency, he’d said, and with so few men, the major wanted to be vigilant. Louisa felt odd knowing a man’s schedule so intimately. From her room, she heard his boots in the hall when he went to bed and recognized his tread when he rose in the morning. Three meals a day together, unless he decided to eat in the officers’ mess. She saw his laundry carried out by the camp’s washerwoman and his correspondence delivered to his desk. She knew so much about him, and he knew nothing about her.

  Nor could he.

  Louisa wrote an A on the top of the paper. Caroline took it from her without drawing her gaze from the window. The troopers were at roll call, which was immensely more interesting to Caroline than the grade on her theme. Not that the grade meant anything. How was Louisa to know if her thesis was sound? Even the younger Adams girl had already surpassed her own book learning. Thankfully, Louisa’s attention to voice and presentation had helped her mimic finer ladies, so her vocabulary and manner carried her farce, but they couldn’t help on paper. She spent hours each night trying to catch up with the girls’ level. The arithmetic procedures came easily enough. The movement of the numbers—carrying over, borrowing, keeping remainders—were like the movements of chess pieces. Everything had a place and moved in prescribed manners. But memorizing the tables was more of a challenge. She’d set the seven multiplication table to music but still couldn’t come up with the correct number without humming through the song.

  But hiding behind her books in the evening served more than one purpose. It also prevented excessive conversation with Major Adams. The more Louisa talked, the more he learned about her, and that was dangerous.

  With Caroline at the window, Louisa looked over Daisy’s shoulder at her penmanship. Thankfully the impatient youngster had never perfected her script. That was one area Louisa could judge accurately.

  “Very good work, Daisy,” she said. “Your capital letters are improving.”

  “I’ll be extra careful on my next letter to Grandmother. Maybe she’ll think my penmanship has improved enough to let me stay here.”

  Another mention of the grandmother. Louisa took a seat next to Daisy. “Your grandmother doesn’t approve of you being here?”

  “Nope. She says we’ll grow up as wild as the jackrabbits if we don’t live in town. She blames Pa for not giving us a proper education.”

  Caroline dropped the curtain and turned toward the table. “She promised me comportment classes, elocution, painting, music, French—all the things I need to be an accomplished young lady. Father doesn’t understand why that’s important.”

  At this, Louisa’s ears perked up. Here she’d been trying to learn sums, memorizing spelling lists, and deciphering the parts of speech, but if Caroline wanted lessons on presentation, why, that was one thing Louisa was qualified to teach.

  “I think your grandmother is correct. Those are all skills you should develop. They will be important to your career.”

  “Career?” Caroline’s mouth twisted, and an eyebrow rose.

  “I mean they’ll be important if you . . .” Louisa couldn’t think of anything besides performing. She had to come up with something. “If you want to be a governess.”

  “Oh yes.” Caroline fluttered her hand before her face like a fan. “Being a governess is my highest ambition.”

  “Don’t be mean,” Daisy said. “We should feel sorry for Miss Bell. She isn’t having any fun being a governess.”

  “But I should be, shouldn’t I?” Louisa was tired of moping around with her nose in a book. Her bed was soft and clean, and she hadn’t gone hungry. She didn’t have to endure the catcalls of an inebriated audience or the bickering of the ladies backstage. Why shouldn’t she enjoy her time here? Her future couldn’t occupy her thoughts from sunrise to sunset. She had to appreciate the day.

  Guilt had nagged at her, reminding her that she wasn’t giving the girls the education they needed. But here was something that she was qualified to help with. How could someone like Mrs. Townsend teach Caroline how to get a man’s attention? How could a gently raised governess handle Daisy and her wild ways? For this, Louisa was the perfect teacher.

  And that was what she’d try to convince Major Adams of, as soon as she could work up the courage.

  Thursday evening, after Private Gundy set the meal on the table before them, Major Adams took the hands of his daughters. Daisy reached for Louisa’s, but Louisa had to catch Caroline’s to complete the circle. They bowed their heads, a custom that made Louisa nervous. One night Major Adams called on Daisy to pray, another night it was Caroline. What would she say if he called on her? She didn’t know, but it wouldn’t be the right thing, of that she was sure.

  As soon as Major Adams began his prayer, Louisa’s spirit calmed. She’d dodged the bullet again. But the gratitude coming from the major annoyed her. Of course he was thankful. God had given him everything he needed, where she had to make it on her own. But before he said Amen, she silently added her own requests, just in case someone was listening.

  “We have to eat pheasant again?” Daisy pushed her plate away. “I don’t like the way it tastes.” She flopped back against her seat.

  Major Adams pinned his pheasant with his fork and elegantly sawed it with his knife. “Your tastes are not the only consideration for this household. Captain Chandler’s unit went hunting yesterday and brought this back for us to enjoy. I will be expected to tell them how delicious it was when I thank them for the gift.”

  “Well, tell Captain Chandler that I didn’t like it.” She pulled her feet up in her chair and hugged her knees.

  Louisa cast an anxious glance at the major. What would a governess do in this situation? Was it her role to correct Daisy, or would the major prefer to deal with her? His eyes darted to her. She nodded.

  “Daisy, you shouldn’t put your knees up at the table. All the boys will see your knickers and whistle at you.”

  Major Adams stopped chewing. He pinned Louisa with that lazy stare that completely masked his thoughts. Daisy’s face turned scarlet as she slowly lowered her feet. Caroline’s eyes were as big as chicken eggs. After a silent, painful moment that stretched as long as the Wichita train, Major Adams resumed chewing. He took a swallow of his tea, then turned his honey-brown eyes on Louisa.

  “Miss Bell brings up a good point. You girls are outgrowing your dresses.”

  Caroline rolled her eyes. “Father—”

  “You are both growing up, and I can’t have my daughters in rags. Besides, don’t you want something new?”

  “From Darlington?” Caroline snorted. “The gowns they sell at the agency are all boring colors that the Mennonites pick out for the Indians. There’s nothing suitable there.”

  “I’m a decent hand at alterations,” Louisa said. “You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve made over my wardrobe.”

  The room grew silent again as each of the three Adamses looked apologetically at the old mourning gown she wore.

  “No, not this. I mean the gowns I wore at my last job.”
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  “Miss Bell,” Major Adams said, keeping his face absolutely even, “you’ve worn that same gown every day since you arrived. Do you own any other clothes?”

  He knew good and well that she had something else, or had he forgotten?

  “Yes, she does,” Daisy chirped. “She had a wardrobe full of clothes when she arrived. I saw them in her room.”

  She hadn’t opened that wardrobe since the night she’d found Daisy hiding under her bed. She’d done her best to forget about those clothes.

  “Most of those don’t fit me anymore. I shouldn’t have brought them.”

  Caroline smirked. “You said that you’re a talented seamstress. Can’t you alter them?”

  “I . . .” Louisa was flummoxed. “I . . . can’t alter them that much. My waist has thickened so, you wouldn’t even believe it.”

  Major Adams’s eyes focused as if he could see right through the table to her waist. She half expected it to start smoking under his burning gaze. Louisa smoothed her gown, which hung loose on her. This was ridiculous.

  “Tomorrow I’ll escort you ladies to Darlington,” Major Adams said. “I think all of you could use something new.”

  Her, too? Louisa traced the cavalry emblem embossed on the silverware with her finger. “That’s very kind of you, Major, but I can’t afford anything new.”

  “Your payment is due.”

  “It is? Already?” How was she going to pay him? She looked nervously at the pheasant on her plate. How many of his meals had she eaten? How much was the rent on the room?

  “I’ll pay you biweekly,” he said. “Tomorrow is Friday.”

  Louisa’s mouth dropped open. “You’re going to pay me?”

  His eyes narrowed and his mouth quirked. “Don’t your employers usually pay you?”

  Louisa gulped. “I get tongue-tied. I don’t even know what I’m saying. Don’t pay any attention to me.”

  But with her luck, he would remember every word.

  Don’t pay any attention to her? Oh, but that was impossible. Miss Bell made a fascinating study. She carried herself like a woman of substance, used to accepting the fawning admiration of her acquaintances, but right beneath the surface was an insecure lady who wasn’t quite confident of her abilities. What had happened to her to make her doubt herself so? Or was she trying to be someone she was not?

  “Major Adams?” Her blue eyes reflected the light of the silver candelabra on the table between them. “With your permission, I’ve decided to undertake the girls’ studies in a new area.”

  With all Caroline’s dramatics about the academics, he didn’t blame her. But . . . “I hope you aren’t surrendering to their onslaught of complaints. That would be rewarding them for their bad behavior.”

  “Not at all, but they also need instruction in music, painting, dance, and deportment. They could practice these lessons after their books. More as a reward.”

  “That’s a logical suggestion. They can practice their manners in Darlington tomorrow.” The situation at the agency was tense. Maybe a family appearance would ease some of the hostility. Daisy especially was a favorite among the Arapaho girls at the school. Plus, he’d be interested to see what Agent Dyer thought of his governess in person. Dyer had only shown amusement at Daniel’s desire to ferret out her secrets. Once the agent met her, he’d better understand.

  Caroline groaned. “As if Darlington’s anywhere special.”

  “Stay behind, then.” Although he knew she’d never do that. “We’ll leave in the morning. I’ll have the horses prepared.” He looked at Miss Bell. “Do you ride?”

  She shook her head, bouncing her curls against her neck. Had he mentioned how interesting he found her unbound hair? Or at least it was only barely controlled by a ribbon at her neck. No Mennonite that he’d ever known wore her hair like that.

  “I’ve only ridden in trains or buggies. And this trip was the first time for either of those.”

  No wonder she was at a loss so often. She hadn’t seen much of the world. A wave of protectiveness surged through him, momentarily melting his suspicions. How well he could imagine her as the youngest child of a busy family. As the sheltered daughter of a doting father. It seemed strange to have her at his table, with his family, and not know anything about her own.

  “Have you written your parents?” he asked.

  The tines of her fork scraped against the china. “My parents? Why would you ask that?”

  “Because you’re away from home. They must care where you are. If Caroline were to go on a journey, I’d be waiting to hear from her.”

  Her usual gentle expression seemed tacked in place. Why didn’t she just answer him? Had he overstepped his bounds?

  “They . . .” Her eyes lowered as she studied the fowl on her plate. “I’d rather not discuss my family.”

  “I didn’t mean any offense.”

  She didn’t say a word. Merely picked up her fork and took another bite.

  As unpredictable as the spring weather. Daniel went back to his meal, but he studied her with the same intensity that he studied his chessboard.

  He’d invited Miss Bell here because he had girl trouble. Now his female complications were only multiplying. How many secrets did Miss Bell have?

  Chapter Eleven

  July mornings on the Cheyenne prairie were like a disappointing treasure chest. From the outside, they looked full of the promise of brilliant sunshine and gentle breezes, but once you lifted the lid, all you found was the blistering sun and a hot, dry wind that peeled the skin off your bones. Which was why it was better to leave for Darlington early.

  Taking a wagon would be the correct way to transport three females, but Daniel wasn’t altogether comfortable with the ponderous transportation. Tempers between the tribes and the troops could flare like dry prairie hay. Although the fort and agency were only a few miles’ distance apart, he needed to be able to flee if necessary.

  Daniel had insisted that his daughters learn how to ride. He couldn’t consider himself a proper cavalry officer if he didn’t train his own flesh and blood how to handle a horse. And somehow, as part of his household, that obligation now covered Miss Bell, too.

  From his office window, he watched as his four mounts were delivered. Their reins were left looped on the banister of his porch. A whole day with Miss Bell. What surprises would she reveal today? He already had a test planned.

  “Girls!” His voice echoed up the stairwell. “Let’s get going.”

  Their chattering rose with their hurrying. How long did it take two girls to get ready for a trip to town? But the first person down the stairs was Miss Bell. She wore the same sad everyday dress, but she wore it like it was the finest satin—neat and tidy, except for her cascading mass of blond curls.

  “Miss Bell, I have your wages.” He motioned her into his office and went to his desk. Reaching into the drawer, he produced an envelope. “Is this amount still satisfactory?”

  What would she say? He’d added a dollar to the weekly allotment they’d agreed on through Dyer’s correspondence. Did she have the character to mention it? Did she even know the details in the offer he’d made?

  She slid her finger under the flap and pulled out the money. Her thumb moved and fanned the bills. He waited, barely breathing, for her to make a mistake.

  But instead she whistled. “Are you sure this is right? It seems like too much.”

  Daniel relaxed, surprised to find that she’d answered just as he’d hoped she would. She was honest. At least they’d established that.

  “After all,” she continued, “you’re putting up my room and board, and—”

  “There’s nowhere else on base for you to stay, and even if there was, we can’t have you wandering around at night, looking for your lodging.”

  Her face turned crimson. Him and his rough manners. He had to remember that a missionary lady like Miss Bell wasn’t used to soldier talk.

  “I beg your pardon,” he said. “I wasn’t implying anything. I did o
verpay you this first time, but I assumed you might require some supplies as you get comfortable here on the fort.”

  “Pa, let’s go.” Daisy ran into the office, then skidded to a stop, missing Miss Bell by inches.

  A reprimand was on his lips, but Miss Bell wrapped an arm around his impetuous daughter and hugged her. “Is Darlington this exciting?”

  Daisy smiled up at him with shining eyes. “No, but going riding with Pa is.”

  She was such a sweet girl. He wished he could spend more time with her. But then again, he never knew what to do with the girls. He feared that Daisy was already too wild. Any activity he could provide—hunting, fishing, riding, shooting—would only exacerbate the problem. And Caroline was so busy trying to prove that she’d be better off in Galveston that she made a point of not enjoying anything they did together. As she came down the stairs, she primly tied on her bonnet and tucked her red hair beneath the brim. She used to love riding as much as Daisy, but now she felt she had to eschew anything fun if she wanted to be a lady like her grandmother. Daniel was at a loss.

  Daisy swung open the front door and raced outside. “It’s Gunpowder! He’s my favorite.” She clapped her hands. The horse nickered in greeting, probably relieved he wasn’t carrying Daniel today.

  Daniel dropped his hat on his head and pulled on his gloves.

  Miss Bell twisted her hands. “Which one is mine?”

  “There’s nothing to be nervous about. We brought you the gentlest horse in the stables. Her name is Mary Todd.”

  “As in Lincoln?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Maybe not the best name for a calm horse, but she doesn’t live up to the reference.”

  Daisy had already scrambled onto her horse, sitting astride and patting its neck. Caroline gracefully pulled herself into the sidesaddle of her mount. She arranged her skirt, which rode up to cover only a little past her knee. He’d be fixing that too-short dress problem today. And then there was Miss Bell.

  “I don’t know how to get started.” She stood a short distance away, afraid to approach her horse. She hiccupped.