And One Rode West

by Graham, Heather

  Her eyes narrowed. “What—”

  “They were just two little polecats, Christa!” he assured her.

  Polecats. They wouldn’t have hurt her.

  “Sometimes the men keep them as pets. Lots of Indians do—they eat them when they’re done being entertained by them. They say polecat can be very tasty.”

  He was still laughing, watching her in wry amusement.

  Ah, yes. The girl from the plantation. The foolish little spoiled creature.

  “I was startled,” she said coolly. “It will not happen again.”

  He must have realized that he had offended her. He slipped his arms around her and she was reminded that she had jumped up naked. “I rather enjoyed your reaction,” he told her.

  She pushed his arms away. “Your man is going to be returning any minute.” Freed from his touch but not from his gaze, she hastily found the very plain and sensible dress with the split skirt she had chosen for their first days of travel.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked her.

  “Fine,” she said curtly.

  “No more sickness?”

  “No.”

  “You can still barely tell,” he murmured. “Except that your breasts are larger.”

  Christa swung around. “You are outrageous!” she charged him.

  He grinned, boyish and very appealing at that moment in his trousers and nothing more.

  “Colonel?”

  He was called from outside the tent. Nathaniel had come. Jeremy quickly asked for new water for the bath.

  “It was a bad one, Colonel, eh?” Nathaniel asked.

  “Yes,” Jeremy said simply. Nathaniel tipped his hat to Christa, then went about his business.

  “What was bad?” Christa asked.

  “Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  She grit her teeth. “I’m here. I have a right to know.”

  “All right, maybe you should know. Never, never wander away alone. One of the companies from another regiment did so. And they were wiped out by the Comanche. Are you afraid?”

  She felt weak.

  “No,” she lied.

  “Well, you had better learn to be very afraid. Never, never go off alone!” he warned her.

  “What about—your men?” she asked.

  “My Yankees? A few were wounded.” He relented and added, “No one was killed. Is that what you meant?”

  “Yes,” she said softly. “I’m—I’m very sorry for those who were!”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes.” She turned to him, eyes blazing. “Don’t you believe me?”

  “Yes, I believe you,” he said tiredly. Maybe he was being wretched to her because he was still haunted by the sight of all those men dead in the trench they had dug.

  He turned away from her. Nathaniel called out again, and entered with two other men to empty the tub and fill it again with water heated over a fire. When they were gone, all tipping their hats to Christa, Jeremy climbed into the tub. He winced suddenly, touching his neck. “I was nicked!” he muttered. “Want to come over here and take care of it now?”

  “No!” she muttered. But she came toward him, fascinated. She picked up the washcloth and dabbed at his throat. “An arrow came that close?”

  He caught her hand. “A bullet, I imagine. That close—you were nearly widowed. What a tragedy.”

  “You’re a fool,” she informed him coolly.

  “Be tender. Take care of it.”

  She smiled. “I will. I’ll get Jesse and he’ll give you a stitch or two.”

  He shook his head. “Scrub my back—and tell me more about the trip out here.”

  “Ask me nicely.”

  His silver eyes touched hers. “All right. Please scrub my back and tell me about the trip.”

  She smiled, and tossed the washcloth his way. “No!”

  “All right, you little southern vixen,” he warned. “Scrub my back or—”

  “Or what?”

  “I’ll climb out of this tub, drag you back into it, and scrub yours.”

  She bit her lip, picked up the cloth, and gingerly scrubbed his back. She liked the feel of it.

  She even liked the intimacy of it. It seemed like a good time to warn him about a few things. She talked idly about Washington and the train. Then she told him, “You have a Major Brooks in your command.”

  “Yes?”

  “He has a wife.”

  “Lots of men do.”

  “She, er, she traveled with us.”

  “Tell me about her.”

  “Oh, I think she’s going to be much happier telling you about me.”

  “Oh?”

  He turned around, staring at her. “What’s she going to tell me?”

  “Well, she was being rather self-righteous, I thought. I think I said something about my God still being on the battlefields picking up lost souls, and she went huffing off because we weren’t observing the Sabbath properly. And then she didn’t like the fact that I was playing poker—”

  “With Jesse?” he said sharply.

  She sighed. “Of course with Jesse! Oh come, Jeremy, had you sent me with the Virgin Mary, I couldn’t have had a more proper escort!”

  She thought that he smiled. His dark lashes fell and he leaned forward. “Down a little. Did you win?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Did you win at cards?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. I’m a—”

  “Cameron, yes,” he murmured. “And Camerons don’t like losing.”

  “I wasn’t doing anything wrong—”

  “Then you don’t have anything to worry about, do you?” He leaned back suddenly, and he looked very tired. “Go on and find your brother. I’ve hired a woman, Bertha Jacobs, to come along with the laundresses specifically to help with whatever we might need. She and Nathaniel will be serving us a private dinner here tonight.” He hesitated a minute. “I saw your brother coming in. He’s leaving in the morning at the same time we pull out from this camp.”

  Christa felt the blood drain from her face. Suddenly, she could care less about Mrs. Brooks. Jesse would be leaving her. Tomorrow. She stood up, and hurried from the tent, anxious to reach him, to hold tight to every minute they had left.

  Jesse had to go home. He had a wife and children. She had borrowed him for as long as she could.

  She wasn’t going to be able to bear to watch him go.

  They had a decent dinner, Jeremy thought. He and Jesse had become good enough friends, and Christa was always on her best behavior when she was with one of her beloved brothers. Weland stopped by for coffee which Christa had made herself over a fire after the meal. He smiled, thinking of her screaming over the polecats, then tilted his hat down, watching her. She was very sensibly dressed for the plains, no frills, just comfortable, durable cotton. Her face was flushed as she worked over the fire, and he felt a peculiar pounding in his heart. She would succeed. He could mock her all that he wanted, she would succeed. Even in the wilderness, as simply accoutred as nature deemed wise, she would still be beautiful.

  If only he could reach her.

  Jesse was watching her, too, Jeremy realized. And Weland was watching Jesse.

  “I promise you, Jess,” Weland said, “I will see to it that Christa has care almost as tender as that you’d give to her yourself!”

  Christa, startled to be the sudden subject of conversation, looked up. “I wasn’t worried,” she said. Was she lying, Jeremy wondered. What woman wanted to have her baby in the wilderness?

  But Christa stood, walked over to Jesse, and set her hands upon his shoulders. “Dr. Weland, I helped deliver my last little nephew and my niece too. Jesse and Daniel were still—” She broke off.

  “At war,” Jesse finished for her. He caught her eyes and patted her hand. She offered him a tender smile. One that dazzled. Were she to look at a lover that way, Jeremy mused, he would be smitten for life.

  Were she ever to look at him that way …

  �
�She won’t mind labor,” Jeremy heard himself saying. “She will mind the urge to scream, right, my love?”

  The look she cast him was one of daggers. “My husband is so concerned!” she murmured.

  “Your husband is very concerned,” he said, rising. “And that’s why I’m going to insist on you getting some sleep. We break camp tomorrow. It will be a hard ride.”

  Her eyes widened. “But—”

  “We’ll have time in the morning,” Jesse said, rising too. “Christa, you do have to get some sleep.”

  “Jesse, Dr. Weland, may I offer you brandy and cigars beneath the stars?” Jeremy suggested. He caught hold of Christa, drawing her unwilling figure to his. He kissed her on the forehead. “My love, that way you may retire undisturbed and at your leisure!”

  She cast him another look with eyes of shimmering blue fire, but Jesse kissed her good night and Weland thanked her for the delicious coffee. The three men then walked beneath the stars, seriously discussing the western question. Jeremy was sorry that Jesse was going to leave; he liked his brother-in-law more and more and felt he had very intelligent attitudes about the Indians and the western expansion movement.

  When he returned to his tent, Christa was curled up in bed. He didn’t know if she pretended sleep or not, but he quelled the urges the very sight of her created within him. It had been a long day for her. Tomorrow would be longer.

  He kissed her gently upon the forehead and let her sleep.

  * * *

  The day began with rain.

  The bugle sounded with the dawn and men were quickly up and preparing to ride, breaking down the tents, packing the equipment. All of his and Christa’s personal and household items were packed into the ambulance he had outfitted for Christa to ride in when she chose. It was soon packed with their trunks, with his hunting guns, with his dress saber, with pots and pans and lanterns. There was a long bench where she could sit and where they could carry wounded men, if need be. The regiment was outfitted with several other ambulances, and the men who had been wounded in the Indian skirmish on the plain would ride in one of them.

  He wasn’t sure he trusted Christa with wounded Yankees just as yet!

  He was busy that morning, but if he hadn’t been, he would have found some way to stay away from her. She breakfasted alone with Jesse. They had several hours together. But still, the time came when they had to part. The regiment was ready to go west.

  Jesse was ready to start the long journey back east.

  Jeremy found them by an oak tree, and so he stood in the drizzling rain watching as she said good-bye to Jesse. She clung to him and he held her tenderly in return. There were no words between them. Maybe they had all been said already. Christa’s eyes were closed. Her face lay against her brother’s chest. At long last, Jesse pulled himself away from her. She wasn’t crying. The effort not to do so was etched clearly into her face, and the sight of her trying so very hard not to give way to tears was far more heartbreaking than had she shed buckets of them.

  Jesse’s eyes met Jeremy’s over Christa’s head. “We have to go, Christa,” he said quietly. She nodded. She still didn’t release Jesse. Jeremy walked to her at last, taking her by the arm. She was wooden as he pulled her to him.

  He offered his hand to Jesse Cameron, and Jesse took it. “Take care of my sister,” Jesse said huskily.

  “I certainly intend to look after my wife,” Jeremy replied with a slow grin. “Give my best to my sister, and Kiernan and Daniel.”

  “I’ll do that. You know, you will always have a home in Virginia,” Jesse said.

  “I know that, and I’m grateful,” Jeremy told him. “I know we’ll be back, for a visit at least, soon enough.”

  Jesse nodded. He reached out and lifted Christa’s chin. “I’ll see you, Christa. Take care now.”

  “You too, Jesse.”

  He nodded. He stroked her cheek one last time, then turned to walk away, a tall and striking man with his dark hair graying slightly at the temples, his posture straight and sure. Christa watched him for a moment.

  “Jesse!” she cried out. She broke free from Jeremy and went running after him. He swung around, caught her, and hugged her one last time.

  Then he set her firmly upon her feet. He said something to her and she nodded. Jesse walked on. She waved from where she stood.

  She had never looked more forlorn. She stood very straight, her shoulders squared. Her chin was high and her eyes were damp. Her fingers were knotted tightly at her sides.

  Jesu! He wanted to go to her, to put an arm around her in comfort. But she didn’t want him now. He was the damned Yank who had brought her out here.

  “We have to go, Christa,” he said firmly. “Will you ride Tilly, or do you wish to start out in the ambulance?”

  She didn’t answer him. She was still staring after Jesse.

  “Christa!”

  She swung around. “What!”

  He repeated his words. He had wanted so badly to be gentle, but there was a terse note to them now.

  “I’ll ride Tilly,” she said. She started to walk past him. He caught hold of her arm. She stared at him furiously, and he saw that she was still fighting tears. “You take Tilly, you stay behind the front of the line, do you understand me?”

  “I’ll do—”

  “You’ll do as I tell you!”

  She wrenched her arm free and saluted him sharply. “I’ll do as you tell me. Now leave me be!” she hissed. He let her go.

  She did not want his comfort. With a sigh, he strode down the line of horses and men until he reached his own mount. He yelled to the bugler to call the men to their horses. In a moment, he was swinging up on his horse. He had a hand lifted in the air. It fell, and the long column began to move.

  He rode back, seeking Christa.

  She sat upon Tilly, watching Jesse mount his horse to ride in the opposite direction.

  “Christa!”

  Jeremy called her name.

  She looked at him, then spurred her horse and cantered by him.

  He followed her to very near the front of the line. She fell in as he had commanded.

  She didn’t look at him.

  But neither did she look back again.

  Eleven

  Christa did not have much time to brood over Jesse’s departure during the next three days. The rain that had begun that morning continued to plague them, and she was quickly initiated into the cavalry life full thrust.

  She rode the first day on Tilly until even she was exhausted, but the regiment was not stopping to camp for the night until they reached higher ground. So she traveled on in her ambulance for some time, watching the pots sway over her head, a lamp and kettle dance, and Jeremy’s dress saber clash against the edge of the canopy. There was a litter of crying pointer pups in the wagon with her, along with their mother, Pepper, and she amused herself for a while trying to keep the pups quiet.

  She became bored after a while, and the constant sway and jiggle of the ambulance felt even more miserable than riding, so she took to Tilly again. She saw Jeremy briefly, barely recognizable in his rain gear. He was telling James Preston that it was amazing to be able to cover over fifty miles in one day when he was riding with one company, but not quite manage to make ten when he was riding with the whole of the regiment. He seemed neither impatient nor frustrated, and she realized that he was very accustomed to this way of life.

  She was not, but she would become so.

  She scarcely saw him that first night. It was nearly dark when they stopped for a meal. They had reached high ground and the order was given not to pitch the tents, they would move out with the dawn. Men slept on their saddles.

  Christa slept in the ambulance—tossing about as she listened to the whining puppies. She wondered if Jeremy’s determination to drive the men so hard had been to avoid her. Since she had said good-bye to Jesse, he hadn’t seemed to want any part of her. Thinking about it, she tossed and turned all the more. He must truly be regretting not
just his marriage, but his determination to bring her out here.

  The following morning was a wretched one. She had hardly slept; she felt as if she were twisted up like a pretzel. She didn’t see Jeremy, but Nathaniel directed her with his slow beautiful speech to the creek nearby so she could wash, and he brought her coffee and some bread and porridge from the main mess pots. It was barely light before they started off again. She rode Tilly and kept abreast with Lieutenant James Preston, Celia’s young husband. He told her stories about the territory they were traveling, about the Indians in general, and then cast her a quick glance, apologizing profusely.

  “It’s all right!” she assured him. “I’m here—I need to know things.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t tell Celia anything. She is afraid of her own shadow. I’m very grateful that you’ve befriended her so. She’s already having a horrible time of it, back in her ambulance.”

  “I’ll see to her,” Christa told him. She rode back down the long column, moving along slowly in the endless drizzle until she reached Celia’s ambulance. She tethered Tilly to the vehicle and spent time in the wagon with her. She was heartily entertained. Celia knew many of the northern officers who were little more than names to Christa. She had Christa laughing with her stories about George Armstrong Custer, the brash young cavalry officer who had given Stuart such a nightmare of a time at Gettysburg.

  “He is much, much more attached to his hounds than he is to poor Libby!” Celia laughed. “I’ve heard she can scarce fit in bed with all of his pups!” Then she sobered suddenly. “How unkind of me!” she said in horror.

  “Oh, Celia! She’s not about, and I don’t intend to repeat a word. And we have to get through all of this somehow, don’t we?” She grit her teeth as she finished, for they had hit another horrible rut in the road and the ambulance swayed so precariously that she was afraid they were about to go over. “Ugh!” she said, making a face for Celia. Celia smiled wanly, but Christa told her a story about burying the family silver while planting tomatoes and she had Celia smiling again in a few minutes. When the rain stopped, Christa left Celia’s ambulance and rode along behind it with Nathaniel for a while.