Summer of Promise

by Amanda Cabot

  Ethan flinched as if he’d been struck, but he said only, “If I accept it.”

  “What do you mean ‘if’?”

  Ethan turned to face Jeffrey. “I received a letter from my grandfather’s lawyer, explaining that I could refuse the bequest. I suspect my grandfather half believed I would. That’s why he named some distant cousin as the contingent beneficiary.” When Jeffrey raised an eyebrow, Ethan continued. “It’s the first I heard that term, but then I had no reason to know about beneficiaries, contingent or otherwise. I’ve never been in this situation before.”

  “What are you going to do?” Charlotte, who had remained silent, posed the question.

  Ethan shrugged. “I haven’t decided.” He returned his gaze to Abigail, smiling when his eyes met hers. “It depends.”

  23

  Had she been mistaken? Three times now Abigail had believed that Ethan was on the verge of admitting he cared for her, perhaps even that he loved her, and yet each time that he had seemed close to a declaration, he had gone no further. First had been the night Private Schiller’s body was found, then the next evening when they had walked with Puddles, and lastly the day Ethan had received word of his inheritance. Abigail understood what had stopped him the first night, but the second puzzled her. That evening Ethan’s mood had shifted from discouragement to apparent tenderness and then back to a stoic discussion of the murder. Why? Was he afraid of her reaction, or had she simply misunderstood? Though it was true that she hadn’t expected Ethan to say anything more at the dinner table the day he mentioned his father’s letters because Charlotte and Jeffrey had been there, Abigail had thought the look he’d given her when he’d said “it depends” meant that he wanted to discuss his grandfather’s legacy with her. She did not understand why he had not.

  “I don’t think it will be much longer.”

  Abigail stared at her sister. Had Charlotte somehow read her mind? No. Charlotte was speaking of her baby, for she laid her hand on her stomach. The two women were in the parlor, putting the finishing touches on the baby’s layette, while Jeffrey, at Charlotte’s insistence, was at the Officers’ Club.

  “I know that sitting here watching me sew isn’t very exciting,” Charlotte explained. “That’s why I told Jeffrey I didn’t mind if he went to the Officers’ Club a few nights a week. I don’t want him to be bored like you.”

  “I’m not bored.”

  Charlotte’s expression said she didn’t believe her. “Then why do I catch you staring into the distance so often?”

  Abigail flushed. She hadn’t realized her distraction was obvious. “I’m thinking.”

  “About Ethan?”

  “Yes.” There was no reason to deny it. Charlotte had already guessed that Abigail harbored more than friendly feelings for him. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone. I think about him all the time.” It seemed as if everything reminded her of Ethan. Yesterday, when the story her class had been reading featured a brother and sister, she’d found herself pondering how different Ethan’s life might have been if he’d had a sibling. And today, when she’d gone to the sutler’s store to buy another spool of thread for Charlotte, she’d seen a warm scarf and had wondered if Ethan would like it.

  Charlotte’s eyes sparkled. “That’s normal when you’re in love. You love Ethan, and that makes him the center of your life. It’s only natural.”

  “I do love him.” Abigail wondered if she’d ever tire of saying those words. “But what if he doesn’t love me? What will I do then?”

  Charlotte reached over to pat Abigail’s hand. “Don’t worry. Ethan loves you. I can see it in his eyes.”

  Oh, how Abigail wanted to believe that. Charlotte was a married woman. She knew more about men than Abigail, and yet . . . “If he loves me, why hasn’t he said anything?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Ethan turned down the wick to extinguish the flame, throwing the room into darkness. It was no use trying to read, just as it was probably futile to climb into bed. If tonight was like the last few, he wouldn’t be able to sleep, for thoughts continued to whirl through his brain. Private Schiller’s murder, his grandfather’s death, his father’s letters, Abigail. Always Abigail. No matter what he was doing, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. The truth was, he didn’t want to.

  He chuckled as he threw back the blankets and slid into bed. It appeared he’d inherited at least one thing from his father, and that was his fascination with a woman. Ethan had read the first letter from the packet, smiling when Father told Veronica—his Veronica, as he referred to her—that he thought of her every hour of every day. The words confirmed what Ethan had come to believe, that Stephen Bowles had been as deeply in love with Veronica as Ethan was with Abigail.

  Abigail. Ethan laced his fingers beneath his neck and smiled. He had it all planned. Tomorrow he would ask Jeffrey to take Charlotte on a walk, leaving Ethan and Abigail alone. Even if the night was cold, they’d sit on the porch for propriety’s sake, but it would be late enough that they wouldn’t be interrupted by others. When they were alone, he would take her hand in his and tell her how much he cared. And then . . . That was where Ethan’s planning stopped. He didn’t know what would happen next, for everything depended on Abigail. He could only hope she cared for him.

  Ethan swung his legs off the side of the bed, realizing there was no point in pretending to sleep, just as there was no point in pretending that all he wanted from Abigail was caring. Caring was fine. Caring was what friends or siblings felt for each other. Ethan wanted more. Much more. He wanted Abigail to love him as much as he loved her.

  He made his way to the window and glanced out, his eyes widening when he saw a man leaving the barracks. His furtive movements, the way he kept his head lowered and looked back over his shoulder, as if afraid of being seen, told Ethan there was nothing innocent about this. He threw on his clothes and raced outside, but he was too late. The man was gone.

  “Lieutenant, you gotta see ’em.” The sergeant’s words came in spurts, as if he’d run across the parade ground. “I left ’em right where they were.”

  Ethan looked up from the report he’d been writing. “What is it, Sergeant?”

  “I reckon you oughta see ’em. Over in the barracks.”

  “See what?”

  The sergeant only shook his head. “Best you see for yourself.”

  When they reached the barracks, Ethan stared at the gleam of gold and red only partially hidden behind a soldier’s footlocker. No wonder everyone was alarmed. Men did not leave belongings outside their lockers, and they most definitely did not leave precious jewelry on the floor. There was no doubt that what the sergeant had found was a pair of women’s ruby and gold earrings.

  “These look like the ones reported stolen in the last stagecoach robbery,” Ethan said, as much to himself as the sergeant.

  The sergeant nodded. “That’s what I figured. I reckon Dietrich’s got some answering to do.”

  Ethan frowned as he read the name on the footlocker. Every time something suspicious happened, Dietrich Keller seemed to be in the middle of it. Though he had had plausible explanations in the past, there was no ignoring the presence of stolen goods. How could the man have been so careless or so stupid as to leave them where anyone could find them? The earrings were small enough to tuck in a watch pocket where no one would have seen them.

  Ethan turned to the sergeant. “Tell Corporal Keller to report to me.”

  When the man arrived, Ethan wasted no words, simply held out the earrings. “Explain to me how these happened to be next to your locker, Corporal.”

  “Vat are they?” Though Dietrich looked genuinely puzzled, Ethan knew that a man who was willing to steal could also be good at masking his emotions. Hadn’t he and Jeffrey both commented that Dietrich Keller was smarter than many of the men? This might be part of his act.

  The sergeant snorted. “I don’t reckon Lieutenant Bowles will buy that innocent bit. We know you stole them. Likely you’re involved
with them stagecoach robbers. Might be you’re the one who killed Schiller.”

  The blood drained from Dietrich’s face, and when he spoke, it was in rapid German.

  “English, Corporal.”

  Despite Ethan’s admonishment, the man continued to babble in German. Though it could have been pretense, Ethan suspected the man was so disturbed that he reverted to his native language.

  “Fetch Miss Harding for me,” he ordered the sergeant. “Perhaps she can translate.”

  When Abigail arrived, the fact that her hat was crooked spoke of her concern. Still, even with her bonnet askew, she was the most beautiful woman Ethan had ever seen. It was irrational. He knew that, and yet his spirits soared at the sight of her. Alone he’d been frustrated; perhaps together they would be able to get to the bottom of this mess.

  “What’s wrong?” Abigail looked from Ethan to Corporal Keller, something about her expression reminding him that the corporal was one of her students. He doubted she had faced situations like this at that fancy girls’ school in Vermont.

  Ethan explained what the sergeant had found and that Dietrich appeared incapable of speaking English. “I’m afraid I need an interpreter. Would you ask the corporal where he got these earrings and why he was leaving the barracks around 10:30 last night?”

  As Abigail posed the questions, Dietrich gesticulated wildly, shaking his head while his words came out in a torrent. Abigail listened carefully before turning back to Ethan. “He says he never saw the earrings until you showed them to him. As for the other question, he was reluctant to say anything, but he finally admitted that he wasn’t in the barracks at 10:30. He left around 9:00 and didn’t come back until after midnight.”

  Ethan turned to the sergeant who’d been guarding the door as if he expected Corporal Keller to flee. “If he’s telling the truth, someone must have seen him.” While most of the men would have been asleep by 10:30 when Ethan saw the man leaving the barracks, at least a few would have been awake at 9:00. “See what you can learn.” When the sergeant left, Ethan turned back to Abigail. “Where did Corporal Keller go last night?”

  “To Peg’s. He says he spent the evening with Leah and didn’t return until after midnight.”

  “Is this true?” Ethan addressed Dietrich directly.

  “Ja.”

  A few minutes later, the sergeant returned. “Private Harrison confirms Keller’s story. He said he heard him leave around 9:00, but he can’t say when he came back.”

  Though it sounded as if the corporal was telling the truth, at least about where he had been, Ethan could take no chances. It was possible Dietrich had done more than visit Leah. He might also have picked up a share of the stolen goods. Unfortunately, that theory did not explain the man who had left the barracks so stealthily.

  Ethan nodded at the sergeant. “Take Corporal Keller to the guardhouse and keep him there until I return.” When the two men left, Ethan turned to Abigail. “Would you be willing to go with me? Leah’s more likely to speak to you than to me.”

  “Don’t you believe Corporal Keller?”

  Ethan did not answer directly. “I need to be certain.”

  Abigail saw doubt in his eyes, as if he were as puzzled as she that a seemingly intelligent man would leave such incriminating evidence out in the open.

  Ethan nodded shortly. “I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t try to corroborate the man’s alibi. Will you help?”

  Of course she would. Abigail would do anything she could to help him. And Corporal Keller. Though Ethan might not be convinced, she was certain her pupil was innocent of anything more serious than having left the fort without permission.

  When they reached the hog ranch, the yard was empty, but the sound of hoofbeats brought a woman out of the main door. Though she no longer wore the flamboyant crimson dress and her hair was more simply styled, Peg’s face was as angry as it had been the night Abigail and Ethan had found Jeffrey here.

  “You again?” Peg tossed her head in apparent disgust, setting loose a wave of cloying perfume. “Jeffrey ain’t here.”

  “We know that.” It was Ethan who replied as he dismounted and helped Abigail off Sally. “We’d like to speak with Leah.”

  Peg’s lips curved into a mocking smile. “When men come here, it ain’t to talk to my girls.”

  Though Abigail could not explain it, the hairs on the back of her head rose. Something about Peg bothered her, tickling the edges of her memory. How Abigail hated when that happened. The thought hovered on the fringes of her brain but refused to come close enough for her to capture it. She narrowed her eyes, trying to focus on the woman who stood only a yard away. “We’ll pay for her time, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Peg snorted. “I ain’t worried about the money. I just don’t like having you around. Folks like you are bad for business.” She tipped her head to one side, as if calculating the damage they could inflict simply with their presence. At last she nodded, her reluctance evident. “Leah’s in the third cabin. Make it quick.”

  “Thank you.” Before Peg could change her mind, Abigail started toward Leah’s cabin. “Peg reminds me of someone,” Abigail said as they walked. “I wish I knew who. I feel as if it’s important, but I can’t explain why.”

  Ethan shrugged. “I’m the wrong man to ask. Didn’t I tell you that I’m the least observant male ever born? You’re probably just remembering the night we saw her with Jeffrey.”

  That was possible, but Abigail doubted it. Her instincts had not been aroused that night or the day she had first met Peg, but they were shrieking at her now. “One thing that bothers me is Peg’s speech. It was different that night, more cultivated, and I remember a Southern drawl.”

  Ethan shrugged again. “I don’t recall anything being different. To be honest, all I cared about was getting Jeffrey out of there.”

  They had reached the third cabin. Ethan started to knock on the door, but Abigail held up a restraining hand. “Leah,” she said as she knocked more softly than Ethan would have, “it’s Abigail Harding. I’m here with Lieutenant Bowles. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  The scraping of a chair and some rustling preceded the opening of the door. When Leah emerged, she was clutching a shawl around her shoulders, her disheveled hair telling Abigail they had wakened her.

  “What’s this about?” Leah asked. Devoid of its usual paint, her face looked young, almost innocent, though her eyes revealed the toll that years at Peg’s had taken. She regarded both Abigail and Ethan with suspicion.

  Ethan took a step forward before he said, “We’re here about Corporal Keller. When did you see him last?”

  The way Leah’s lips thinned and her fingers gripped the shawl left no doubt that she was unwilling to speak.

  “Tell us the truth,” Abigail urged the young woman. “It’s all right. You won’t hurt the corporal.”

  Leah’s eyes darted from Abigail to Ethan and back again, her reluctance almost palpable. It was only when Abigail gave her another reassuring smile that she said, “Dietrich was here last night. I know he wasn’t supposed to leave the fort, but he did.”

  When Ethan said nothing, Abigail continued the questioning. “Do you remember when Dietrich arrived and how long he stayed?” If Leah was to be his alibi, the times had to be consistent.

  Leah nodded. “He came before 9:30, and he didn’t leave until after midnight.”

  “You’re sure?” Ethan’s voice was harsher than Abigail would have liked, and she saw Leah flinch.

  “I’m sure. He isn’t in trouble, is he?” Worry lines formed between Leah’s eyes, and her voice cracked. “He only came to protect me. I knew one of the ranchers was expected last night. A bad one. He’s mighty rough on a girl when he’s been drinking, and most nights he’s been drinking.”

  Abigail kept her expression impassive, although her heart bled for Leah and all the others who had been subjected to the rancher’s cruelty.

  “I told Dietrich about him,” Leah
continued, “and he said he’d come. He paid for my time so I didn’t have to entertain the rancher. You won’t put him in the guardhouse for that, will you?”

  Ethan shook his head. “It’s not for me to decide.”

  Leah took a step forward and laid her hand on Abigail’s arm. “Dietrich’s a good man, and I ain’t . . .” She flushed, then corrected herself. “I’m not saying that just because he wants to marry me.” She looked up at Ethan. “Dietrich said the captain had to give his permission. Do you reckon he’ll do that?”

  For a second Abigail thought Ethan would shake his head. Instead he said, “I’ll talk to him.”

  Her smile one of pure happiness, Leah nodded. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

  “I believe her,” Abigail said as she and Ethan rode away from the hog ranch.

  “So do I. Someone tried to frame Dietrich.”

  “Obviously, but why him?”

  A gust of wind blew a tumbleweed in front of their horses, causing Sally to skitter sideways. Ethan waited until Abigail was once more riding next to him before he said, “It’s probably because he’s an immigrant. Everyone knows that Johann Schiller was involved in the robberies. Someone wants me to think that Dietrich was too.”

  “Who would do that?”

  Ethan was silent for a moment. When he spoke, all he said was, “I wish I knew,” but something in his expression told Abigail he had his suspicions.

  Someone had been in his room. Ethan knew it the moment he opened the door. He had expected some sort of reaction to what he had done today, but not this. While he doubted that anyone would be angered by his asking Captain Westland to approve Corporal Keller’s marriage to Leah and to sentence him to only ten days in the guardhouse rather than a full month, Ethan had known his belief that one of the officers was involved in the robberies and the attempt to implicate Corporal Keller would trigger a response, especially since it had resulted in Captain Westland’s conducting what was tantamount to an interrogation of each officer. Ethan had expected a reaction, but he hadn’t thought it would be so personal. Still, there was no denying that he had had an uninvited visitor. The room held an unfamiliar smell, and the intruder hadn’t completely closed one of the chest drawers.