The Peacemaker

by Chelley Kitzmiller

  "My apologies, sir, but Colonel Taylor is directing operations at the old Camp Bowie and won't be back until much later this afternoon. However, I am authorized to officially welcome you and to show you to your quarters."

  "And my escort, Captain?"

  "We have a barracks under construction, sir. The beds and bedding arrived last week. Your men should find it very comfortable."

  "When the colonel returns, Captain, you will please tell him that I wish to have a word with him and you…someplace comfortable. I've been sitting this damn John Daisy for the last two days—not that I don't prefer riding mules to horses, for indeed I do, but I would welcome a well-cushioned seat, if you know what I mean."

  "Yes, sir. That would be in the colonel's quarters. His daughter, Miss Independence Taylor, has made it real comfortable." With that, Captain Nolan summoned an orderly over to take the commissioner's mule. "If you'll follow me, sir."

  A lone, motionless cottonwood tree stood like a tall sentry on the mountain slope south of Indy's kitchen. Indy had come to think of the tree as a quiet friend who was always there, eager to hear her thoughts. Yesterday morning, as she had stood within its long shadow, she had ruminated on how embarrassed she was for fainting and causing everyone so much trouble. It had been quite a scare to wake up to find Prudence beside her, wiping her face with a cool, wet cloth. Her first thought was that something terrible was wrong with her what with the way she was laid out in her petticoat like a corpse. But Pru had explained that she had fainted and that Captain Nolan and Major Garrity had brought her to her quarters and summoned help. That had apparently been the end of it.

  That had also been the end of her favorite calico dress, which had been badly torn and soiled. Pru had proclaimed it beyond even her strongest lye soap and had carried it off to be burned with the other camp rubbish. Pru should know, Indy thought, lamenting the loss of the dress.

  Today, she communed with the cottonwood through the open kitchen door. She had gotten a late start on her day. She had not slept well and had awakened to an all over feeling of lethargy. As yesterday, Jim was already working with the men on the parade ground when she came out into the parlor. And also as yesterday, the sight of him brought on that terrible inside-out feeling. It had been worse this morning, she thought. Much worse.

  She was cleaning up the flour that she had somehow managed to get all over the place while she had been kneading the bread. The mess was a result of too much thinking and not enough paying attention. Hopefully the thinking wouldn't result in over kneaded bread that was hard as a brick.

  Even now she couldn't seem to stop thinking.

  Looking out at the cottonwood she asked herself if falling in love was always painful. If it was, why did people let it happen? A silly question, she thought, drawing a sustaining breath. People didn't let it happen. She hadn't let it happen. It had come about all on its own and now that it had, there was nothing she could do to ease its pain or make it go away.

  She wondered if it was Fate stepping in to keep her at Bowie with Jim that was the reason the eastbound stage operations had been suspended. And if it was, what did Fate have planned for her now? She stared down at the cloth in her hand.

  If Jim loved her as Pru seemed to think, he certainly had an odd way of showing it, which was not at all. Conversely, he seemed to go out of his way to ignore her, and when he was forced to confront her, as he had been in the adjutant's office, he couldn't even be civil!

  It was on a sigh that she remembered what else Pru had said. That he may not yet know he loved her. She had thought at the time Pru was talking nonsense, but after examining her own reluctance to admit to her feelings of love, she knew it was possible.

  But what good was admitting it? Even knowing she loved him, she had gone to the adjutant's office. She had still wanted to go home. And when she had discovered him there, had she shown him loving kindness? No. She had responded to his sarcasm with sarcasm. And yesterday, prior to the monkey drill, he had ignored her as he came from talking to her father, and she had pretended to ignore him.

  Was that the way of love?

  Sarcasm. Indifference. Ignoring the one you loved?

  It seemed a very peculiar way of behaving. There didn't seem to be any behavioral difference between not knowing you loved someone and knowing you did . . . .

  Indy hurried to finish cleaning up. The sooner she got done, the sooner she could get out of the kitchen and find something to absorb her thoughts. Maybe she could stop by Ava's and ask to see the new baby. That would get her mind off things . . . for a while anyway.

  For fire safety, all the kitchens were detached and set some twenty feet away from the main quarters. Having set the bread to cool, she hurried outside. She took off her apron and used it to fan her face.

  Captain Nolan came around the east side of the building and saw her. "Do I take that as a sign of surrender?"

  She couldn't imagine what he was talking about.

  Evidently seeing her confusion he explained, "In war, when the enemy waves a white flag it indicates they want to surrender."

  She nodded. "Oh, yes, of course." She laughed lightly because she was too uncomfortable to manage anything else. "I don't know what I was thinking."

  "I came by to—" He headed for the kitchen.

  She held up her hand to stop him. "I know what you came by for, Captain, and yes, I did bake bread. As a matter of fact, I baked two loaves, one for us and one for you." At least he had the good manners to look suitably embarrassed, she thought. The first time she had offered him some fresh baked bread, he had eaten more than half of her only loaf all by himself. "It's my way of saying thank you for rescuing me yesterday."

  His brow furrowed. "It's too bad it had to happen. You seemed to be thoroughly enjoying yourself."

  "I was." She laughed in spite of herself at the memory. "I had no idea the men would have so much trouble just getting on their horses, let alone staying on them. Major Garrity always makes it look so easy, but then he seems to do everything easily. Even the Grand March," she blurted, unthinking, recalling Jim assuring her that she too would remember the march once they had begun. "It must have been years since he danced. And yet he didn't miss a step."

  The captain gave her a long searching look, like he knew something she didn't. "At least six years. Maybe longer," he confirmed. "Back in the days when he was engaged to Tess." She felt a stab of jealousy, but her chin stayed level as he continued to talk. "It's a darn good thing he found out what kind of woman she was before he married her."

  "Yes, I suppose so, but do you really think he would have actually married her?"

  He nodded slowly and smiled, looking curiously pleased with himself. "Of course. He's often talked of having a home and a family—a very large family as a matter of fact."

  She gave a nervous laugh. "I'm sorry I just can't imagine such a thing. He's so . . . ." She waved a hand. "Well, he's so undomesticated. Like a wild animal. Untamed, if you know what I mean."

  "He wasn't always like that, you know. It's circumstances that have made him that way. It was the only way he could survive."

  "Yes, of course, I understand."

  "The right woman could tame him," the captain asserted.

  She tilted her head to look at him. "The right woman? What kind of woman would be the right woman, Captain?"

  He appeared to give the question serious thought. "Jim's a very irascible fellow as I'm sure you know. It would take a very special woman to handle him and to put up with him." His brow wrinkled as he looked down into her face. "Probably somebody a little like you, Indy. Somebody who's honest, loyal, very courageous. And of course, she'd have to really love him."

  "Of course," she agreed on a half laugh.

  "I know he's looking forward to the pardon your father promised. That will allow him to go home and live like a white man again. He's from a good family. His grandfather was a stern old man. Ruled his household with an iron fist. When he didn't approve his son's marriage, Jim's
parents ran away and ended up owning a trading store just a few miles south of here. Jim was born there. That's when the Apaches and whites were on friendly terms, mind you. He practically grew up in the Apache strongholds. That's also how come he came back here. He knew he'd be welcome and that nobody would find him."

  Indy was numbed by all the information. After a moment she said, "Excuse me while I go get your bread. It's been cooling while we've been talking."

  She returned momentarily.

  Seeing her coming, the captain stepped forward and took the loaf from her hands. "Thanks, Indy. If I'm ever lucky enough to find a woman who can bake bread half as good as you, I'll marry her! Umm." He bent his head and sniffed the bread appreciatively. "I brought this along just in case," he said sheepishly, pulling a yellow kerchief out of his pocket. "I figured I'd have to hide it if I was going to get it back to my own quarters without anyone seeing it. If Jim gets word of it, I won't even get a bite."

  "He likes fresh baked bread, does he?"

  The captain rolled his eyes. "He'd kill for it."

  She glanced over the captain's shoulder. "Well, then, you best eat it quickly." At his questioning look she pointed behind him. "I wouldn't want to be responsible for your death, Captain."

  "Jerusalem!" The captain carefully covered the loaf with his kerchief.

  Indy's stomach muscles knotted as she watched Jim and his company running toward her. He was dirty, sweaty, but she thought he had never looked handsomer. He stopped a few feet from Captain Nolan and waved the troopers ahead.

  "Be at the corral in one hour," he told them. They ran ahead as ordered.

  "How'd they do?" the captain asked.

  Indy noticed that Jim was looking at the captain in a very odd way. His eyes had darkened and narrowed. It almost looked like he was suspicious or . . . jealous!

  The captain, however, seemed completely unaware of it, and Indy, wanting to see more before she drew a conclusion, kept silent and continued to watch.

  "They did well." He looked like he wasn't going to elaborate, then he did. "I've got one troublemaker so far, Corporal Ryker. I had him help me demonstrate some of the more advanced fighting techniques." His hard gaze didn't let up. He stood with his hands on his hips, legs vee'd. His chest rose and fell with exertion.

  "Do I need to send a detail after him or did he come back under his own power?"

  Indy recognized the jest. If Jim did, he wasn't going to let on.

  "He came back with the rest of them," Jim answered in a tight voice. Covering his mouth with his hand he turned away to spit a pebble out of his mouth.

  It was then that Indy noticed the bloody scratches on his back. "You have some bad scratches, Major. I'll get some water and clean them for you."

  Before he could say one way or another, she was gone and through the kitchen door. She returned a minute later with a tin cup, a cloth, and a bucketful of water. She set the bucket down and dipped the cup into it. "I figured you'd probably be thirsty too." Indy's heart pounded at the nearness of him, the near nakedness of him.

  "Thanks." Without another word he took the cup and drank greedily.

  "You shouldn't drink that so fast when you're overheated," the captain warned. "It could make you sick. You know that."

  Jim gazed at the captain over the rim of the cup, accusing him with a piercing look. "Yeah, I know," he said, his voice an ominous bass. He handed the cup back to Indy.

  "By the way," the captain said conversationally. "The Indian commissioner arrived a little while ago. Unbelievably, he came in from Tucson, accompanied by a whole military escort. The colonel's over at the old camp and won't be back until later so I took him to his quarters to rest up."

  Turning to Indy, he said, "He wants to meet with your father as soon as possible in someplace comfortable, with a cushioned chair. Sounds to me like that would mean here." He inclined his head toward the back door. "I thought you'd want to know."

  For a moment she was too dazed to realize what he was saying. "Oh, yes," she said, nodding her head like a Chinaman. "I'll need to make preparations."

  "Speaking of making preparations, I've got to get back to my quarters. More than likely I'll see you both this evening." He turned to leave, then glanced back. "Thanks for thinking of me, Indy." He gave her a wink and walked off, whistling "The Girl I Left Behind Me."

  As the captain walked away, Indy stood next to Jim, holding her cloth, thinking he looked very angry indeed. The captain's wink had cinched it. Jim was jealous. She breathed a sigh of relief and dipped her cloth into the bucket.

  "Turn around and I'll clean those scratches," she ordered.

  He obeyed and she was filled with an intoxicating sense of power. She started dabbing at the bloodied area. It was possible he still didn't know his feelings, she reminded herself. Prudence had said men were sometimes slow to recognize such things. Would it be too terribly bold of her to give him a little nudge in the right direction? she wondered. After all that the captain had said Jim wamted a home and family. A home and family was what she wanted too, and she wanted it with Jim Garrity. No other would do.

  A furtive smile curved her mouth.

  The scratches had looked worse than they really were, but she didn't need to tell him that, she realized with great satisfaction. "You might want to see Doc Valentine," she suggested, dipping the rag, swishing it around as if it had gotten very dirty, then squeezing it out and reapplying it to his back, to a much broader area than the scratches actually encompassed.

  "They'll heal fine without Doc."

  "All right then, but give me a minute or two to make sure I clean them out real good."

  "I'm in no hurry."

  She put her hand on his shoulder and froze. Her hand was so small and white next to his wide, sun-browned shoulder. His flesh was warm, firm. His shoulder muscles flexed and tensed beneath her fingers. It was easy to be brave when she didn't have to look into his eyes.

  "About my little fainting spell yesterday," she said. "I wanted to thank you for coming to my rescue. I'm a little embarrassed by the whole thing. If I had just kept my parasol with me I probably would have been just fine. Prudence told me the whole story."

  "She did, did she?"

  "I hope I didn't cause you any trouble."

  "Trouble?"

  "I mean. Well—I took you and the captain away from your men and all."

  "It was no trouble."

  "That's good. I wouldn't want—"

  "That's enough, goddammit!" His voice crackled with savagery. He whirled around, facing her. Grasping her upper arms, he pulled her up against him with such violent force that it was like the other night when she'd had the wind knocked out of her.

  "What did I do?" Her voice was high and thin.

  "You really don't have any idea, do you?"

  She started to shake her head but his hand lifted her chin, tilting it back so she had no choice but to meet his glittering, black eyes— killing eyes. It felt to Indy that he was hovering over her—like a hawk and the look on his face told her he had just found his prey.

  His head swooped down and he kissed her. His lips were bruising, punishing. He captured her tongue and drew it into his mouth, tasting it, holding it prisoner as he held her body prisoner. Then he let it go and plunged his tongue into her mouth, leaving no part of it untouched.

  "God, Indy. Do you know how much I've wanted to make love to you?" His lips breathed against hers. He kissed her again, wrapping his arms around her, holding her with such powerful urgency that she knew something was terribly wrong. Or was it terribly right?

  Suddenly she had something she had to say. And she had to say it now. Placing her hands on either side of his face she managed to slide her mouth from his. "I love you," she whispered breathlessly. She gave meaning to her declaration then by placing fevered kisses aside his cheek, then working her way back to his mouth.

  Something was wrong. He was silent. He was still.

  He moved away from her so quickly that her arms w
ere still raised and her hands still curved to the lines of his face. He stepped back from her, as if she were a rattler ready to strike.

  "Don't love me, Indy. I'm not the man for you. We're worlds apart."

  He turned and left.

  The cottonwood stood silent, sad.

  Chapter 14

  Camp Bowie is a crucial outpost, not only to the War Department but to the future of this territory." Indian Commissioner Isaiah P. Moorland had the attention of all present: Colonel Taylor, Indy, and Captain Nolan.

  He was a tall man, incredibly tall, Indy thought, and narrow as a bed slat. His long, thin face was gaunt, with deep hollows beneath his prominent cheekbones. His eyes were his one saving feature, blue as a summer sky and keen with intelligence. He had been carrying the conversation, which really wasn't a conversation, but a speech, for the last quarter hour without let up.

  "How Bowie is or isn't managed is of vital concern to President Grant as he intends this outpost to play a major roll in his plans to civilize the territory. Hence, it is my job to see that his concerns are dealt with.

  "At this point in time the basic function of Camp Bowie, as the President sees it, Colonel Taylor, is to provide military escorts for all persons, military and civilian, through Apache Pass; to protect the neighboring ranches and towns from raids; and to keep the Apaches contained and under control. The reports I have received, sir, indicate that you have failed in every regard. Would you care to explain yourself?"

  The colonel stood stiffly, clearly on guard. "I would indeed, Mr. Moorland. I don't know whether you are aware of it or not but the War Department made a terrible mistake, which they have yet to rectify. I was given the wrong assignment. As soon as the President won the election, I applied for transfer to Washington. It was my wish to work closely with the President in whatever capacity he desired. Grant and me, we're very old friends, you know. We were cadets together at the Point," he added portentously.

  Indy saw the remark as an attempt to elevate his station in the commissioner's eyes. She also saw it didn't work. The commissioner remained unimpressed.