The Lieutenant's Bargain

by Regina Jennings

  “I’ve known a lot of people for years, and so far I haven’t married any of them.”

  “Technically, you have.” Sometimes Jack’s quick logic was not appreciated. This was one of those times.

  She tucked her chin. “That’s not funny.”

  “I’m not laughing.” The table creaked as he leaned his elbows against it. “I’m the ambassador between the army and the tribe. Getting a divorce or annulment will ruin my relationship with them.”

  “But me being married to you is going to ruin my relationship with, oh, anyone else I might want to marry someday.” Her voice was rising, and the look she was giving him was not charitable.

  A tight knot began to form in his stomach. “Are you engaged?”

  “No.”

  “That’s right. You were running away from marriage, last I heard. Well, you’re safe here. Pretending to be married is the best way to keep other men away.”

  “I’m not staying here. I can’t.” She rubbed her forehead. “I have two months to prove myself to my parents, or else I have to go home. I’ll never get this chance again. Besides, this is the last place in the world I’d want to stay. This prairie nearly killed me.” She faltered before regaining control. Lowering her hand, she met his gaze. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to finish my breakfast, then we’re going to look into getting me on the next stagecoach out of here.”

  “What about the attack? You’re the only witness to a triple murder and the theft of government property.”

  “A hostile witness.” She fell back in her chair. “This is the end of everything I planned for. I’m trading my paintings and art for . . .” She motioned around the grimy kitchen and ended with her outstretched hand pointing directly at him.

  Jack’s heart dropped, but he kept his chin up. His first prediction had been right. If he’d ever had any hopes that she might someday deign to consider him a spouse, they were squelched. Certainly, she was happy enough to see him when he showed up and saved her hide, but beyond that, she had no use for him. The years hadn’t changed a thing.

  Time to take it like a man and figure out how to fix the awful mess he’d made.

  She wasn’t married. She didn’t feel married. She didn’t feel anything but shock. “It’s not right,” she said. “You can’t do this to me. I’m on my way to Denver. I’ve got plans.”

  “I have work to do.” Jack stared straight ahead and spoke to the wall behind her. “I have to report at the adjutant’s office, but I’ll talk to Major Adams. Don’t worry. We’ll find a solution.”

  He stood, carried his plate and mug to the washbasin, then marched out of the kitchen.

  So much for her future. Hattie waited until she was sure he’d left the house, then ran to his desk and tore a piece of paper out of the first journal she laid hands on. She dropped into his chair and pushed a spot clear from his clutter. Three pencils were visible amid the messiness. The chewed end didn’t matter as long as the point was sharpened. Her pencil flew over the page, forming the spine of a mountain range. Dark shadows obscured the face as a towering, angry thunderstorm built above it.

  What would people say? What would her parents say? How could she explain this to them? More than once her parents had teased her about brainy, scrawny Jack Hennessey following her around. If she’d known he was going to do this, she would have set him straight while he was still manageable.

  The mountains blurred before her eyes, but the thunderstorm grew more and more distinct. Boiling clouds ready to unleash gallons of pent-up frustration. The pencil lead broke. Without pausing, she tossed it aside and grabbed the next one.

  Hadn’t she the right to determine her own fate? She’d tried to be traditional. Plenty of boys had come calling, but she’d shown the good sense to see through their foibles and know that she didn’t want to settle down to such a tame existence. In fact, for all her protests to Jack, she seriously doubted that a future husband would come along. Not one she could please, anyway. Better to live on her own, but one ordeal after another kept getting in her way.

  She was the lone survivor of a stagecoach robbery.

  She’d seen to two murdered men without any help.

  She’d wintered overnight with no shelter on the freezing prairie.

  She’d been rescued by Indians whom she didn’t know or understand.

  The Indians had passed her off to cavalrymen who’d transported her to this forsaken outpost.

  And now she was being told that she was married to one of their officers and had to stay at the fort to benefit his career. All that was missing was three days in the belly of a whale.

  Another pencil broke. She picked up the third.

  Another obstacle, another delay, but she could find her way through this. She was after life experience, exposure to culture, and discovering inspiration. Trading the rugged mountains of Arkansas for the majestic Rockies should be enough to get her out of her rut. And if the mountains didn’t do it, then all the hardships she’d endured thus far should.

  Three weeks to paint something so she could submit it to the curator in Denver. All of her bags were gone, as well as her money and her paints. She was completely at Jack’s mercy. She’d been saved by the Indians and kidnapped by the cavalry. That wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. And who would save her now?

  Hattie held the sketch out at arm’s length. The mountains weren’t well defined, probably because she hadn’t made it to Colorado to see them yet, but the storm clouds felt real. Heavy, wet, and ready to roar off the paper. Her critic’s eye approved. Experience more of life to improve her painting? It looked like she’d already benefited, but she was running out of time.

  Chapter Ten

  Walking into the adjutant’s office felt like climbing into a lifeboat after nearly drowning. Here was order and reason and duty and progress. Here, between the cabinets of the major’s reports and letters, were issues that Jack was equipped to deal with. Regulations and procedures that ordered his days and gave him guidance on what was expected of him. For nearly any question that might arise, he could find a regulation to answer it. On matters not already prescribed, his major would take the responsibility for the decision.

  But his marriage decision couldn’t be left up to the major.

  Their discussion that morning hadn’t gone well. When Jack had requested a transfer, Major Adams had reminded him that breaking oaths made before the tribe could result in his dismissal. But Major Adams was also his friend, and even he couldn’t be so legalistic not to sympathize with Jack’s dilemma. Since the major and Louisa were leaving for their honeymoon, he’d said he would post the request, but he wanted Jack to remain at the fort until he returned. And remaining at the fort meant pretending to honor the Arapaho’s ceremony.

  Jack tapped his pen against the inkwell and watched the ripples in the dark liquid. This intersection of his military duty and his love life—or potential love life—was a disaster, and there was nothing in the rule books that could simplify the matter at all. He knew how he could correct the situation, but it would cost him. Worse, it would cost the tribe. Without his intervention, the Darlington school would fail. But he couldn’t ask Hattie to make that sacrifice for a people she knew nothing about. His shoulders felt heavy with what he was going to promise, but he had no choice. His only hope was that he wouldn’t lose his position in the cavalry entirely.

  “Lieutenant Hennessey.” Sergeant Byrd’s glossy black mane appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Clark is here to see you.”

  Jack didn’t have to respond. Everyone knew not to keep Ben Clark waiting. The scout had a long and distinguished career, spoke more languages than Jack could name, and was a fixture at the fort with his Cheyenne wife and their seven children. If Ben bothered coming in to tell you something, you’d better listen.

  Ben walked through the doorway in his knee-high slouch boots, his slouch hat, and a mustache and goatee that slouched all the way to his chest. As rumpled as his clothes were, his eyes were just
that sharp. He pulled off his gauntlets and dropped them on his lap.

  “I heard those Arapaho pulled one over on you,” he said.

  Jack felt like a schoolboy in front of the wise old scout. “I wish you had been there. Then I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  “Horsefeathers. Marriage makes a good man better. ’Course, it makes a bad man worse, so now the burden is on you to prove what kind of man you are.”

  Everyone expected Jack to live up to his vows, when he hadn’t realized that he’d made any.

  Sensing his helplessness, Ben mercifully changed the subject.

  “I came because I heard a nugget that I thought you’d be interested in. The Cheyenne have bedeviled some poor wayfarer. Shot his horse full of lead and nicked him a time or two for fun.”

  Jack looked up from his inkwell. Here was something he might be able to fix. “Do they have him?”

  “They claim he got away. Last they saw, he was limping east off the reservation.”

  “I would’ve heard if he’d reached Darlington,” Jack said. “I’ll send out a party to find him.” He called for Sergeant Byrd and passed word along. Ben waited as orders and questions flew above his gray head. Satisfied that the search would be started immediately, Jack returned to the question at hand. “What do you make of it?” he asked. “Why would Cheyenne Dog Soldiers shoot him up and then let him go? We both know the Cheyenne. That’s not their usual dance.”

  “They have incentive to behave,” Ben replied. “They and the Arapaho have a big payment due them from the government. The Dog Soldiers attacked, but cooler heads called them off. They reckoned it was better not to do anything to jeopardize the payment.”

  The payment that had been stolen when Hattie’s stagecoach was attacked. Jack scratched his ear. “You know about that payment, don’t you? It’s gone.”

  Ben’s eye twitched. “With the stagecoach robbery? I was afeared of that.”

  “What will the Cheyenne do when they find out the money isn’t coming?”

  Ben groaned as he got to his feet. “You don’t want to know. Why don’t you wire Washington for more funds? Tell them it’s a matter of life and death.”

  And a matter of jeopardizing the future of the tribe. The relationships were already strained enough. One more promise broken by the United States, a few more students returning home, and the schools would close . . . along with a door of opportunity. Jack had to find the money, and it might be that the only witness to the crime could help.

  “Couldn’t I ride on the outside? I don’t mind, really.” Hattie twisted a handful of her skirt as she tried to keep the panic out of her voice.

  Louisa bit her lip and glanced at the stack of trunks on her porch. “I’m afraid with the four of us and all our luggage, the coach is already full, even the top.”

  “I’ll make room,” Hattie replied. “Or I’ll sit with the driver. If this is the only coach for two days, I don’t have a choice.”

  “But we’re going to Tahlequah. That’s the opposite direction from Denver, dear. I don’t understand how it’s going to help—oh, here comes Lieutenant Hennessey. Maybe he can explain.” Louisa’s smile spread with relief as she spotted Jack. “Lieutenant Hennessey, won’t you join us?”

  Hattie’s shoulders slumped. She’d been caught. She didn’t even bother turning around as his boots echoed on the wooden porch.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Adams. Can I help you?”

  “There’s some confusion about the stagecoach schedule. I was just explaining to your wife—”

  “Thank you,” Jack interrupted. “Surely you’re busy with your plans. I’ll be glad to answer her questions.” He tipped his hat. With an apologetic shrug, Louisa shut the door, leaving Hattie with no ally in this battle.

  Jack nudged Hattie with his elbow. “Please take my arm. I think a stroll might be the best thing to clear the air.”

  It was only because he seemed as agitated as she was that she agreed to accompany him. He directed her to the gravel road that ran along Officers’ Row and began a slow walk to his house next door.

  “Major Adams was not as helpful as I’d hoped.” He walked stiffly, his arm flexed beneath her fingers. “He is adamant that the ceremony is binding and must be respected on the reservation.”

  “If adamant means what I think it means, then I’m adamant that the army can’t force women to marry against their will,” Hattie said.

  “You understand the word perfectly,” Jack said, “but I promised you a solution, and I hope I’ve found one. Major Adams has agreed to assign me to another unit. He’s requesting my transfer today before he leaves. Once I’m officially moved away from the Cheyenne and Arapaho tribes, then I’m free to continue life as a bachelor. You would be free to go on with your life. Both of us could pretend that this never happened.”

  Hattie slowed. For the first time since the attack, she felt like she could see the fulfillment of her journey. “That’s it, then. Problem solved. We can end this charade—”

  “Not quite. For this to work, I need your cooperation for a bit longer.” Jack nodded to a small band of troopers riding out with their supplies, but his eyes remained tight.

  “Cooperation in what?” she asked as they passed.

  “In pretending that you’re my wife. I’m in command until Major Adams returns from his honeymoon. While we’re here, we must uphold our roles of a happily married man and wife—at least in public. Let the Indians see that we honor their ceremony. If you’ll do that, I promise you’ll be free and on your way when Major Adams returns and I’m reassigned. In fact, I’ll even accompany you to Denver and see that you have the funds you lost so your plans won’t be interrupted.”

  Pretend? Hattie didn’t like the sound of that. “And if I don’t accept this offer?”

  Jack turned to face her. “Once you give a report of the attack, I can’t stop you from leaving. Wire your parents for more money, buy some clothes, some paints, get on another stagecoach, and take out across Indian Territory on your own again. Chief Right Hand and the tribe will wonder why my wife left me, but after keeping you for a few days, they understand how hard you are to control.” He gave her a weak smile.

  Hattie’s gaze traveled past the barracks, past the stables to the endless prairie beyond—the land of her nightmares. She couldn’t close her eyes without being overwhelmed by terror. Perhaps she’d recover after another night of safety. Perhaps she’d feel braver once she had a few days of rest. But as she considered the daunting journey ahead of her, leaving alone didn’t have the same allure. Having Jack’s company on the trip would make all the difference.

  “If I agree to your bargain, I only have to pretend in public, right?” she asked.

  “That’s right. No pretending at home.” They’d reached the house. Jack escorted her up the steps of the porch and opened the door.

  Hattie paused in the doorway. “No more good-night kisses?”

  His eyes flashed at the mention, but he recovered nicely. “I’m willing to break with the fort’s tradition if you are.”

  “Fort’s tradition?” Hattie raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t believe it the first time you said it, and I surely don’t now. You’re acting so smart, Jack, but I caught you this time.”

  “Traditions have to start somewhere,” he said. “And if anyone ever asks you about your time at Fort Reno, tell them that you worked as a housekeeper on the post.” He looked around at the messy parlor. “How seriously you want to take that role is up to you.”

  “I thought I had it bad in Van Buren,” she said. “What about the report? Don’t I have to get that done before I can go?”

  “The longer we wait, the more chance there is that you’ll forget something.”

  As if the memory would fade. She couldn’t close her eyes at night without hearing the gunshots and reliving the terror of being left alone and feeling hunted. “Will I be under oath?” she asked.

  “You won’t be sworn in, but you should tell the truth.”

&
nbsp; “What if I’m asked about my husband? Then what do I say?”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “Excuse me while I call for my assistant.”

  She must have nodded, because Jack went to the front door and called out an order. Before Hattie knew what was happening, he had her arranged in a chair in his office and was sitting next to her. A man entered, introduced himself as Sergeant O’Hare, and sat behind Jack’s desk with a pad of paper. The cold had blended his freckles and his rosy cheeks into a swirl of red. Such details kept her excited for the day she could paint again.

  “Nice to meet you,” Sergeant O’Hare said. “I’m much distraught over your treatment here in the nations. I want you to know that me and the boys are going to find that man who affronted you, and when we do, we’re going to take him by the—”

  “Thank you, Sergeant,” Jack interrupted. “Getting her testimony will aid in our efforts.”

  “Yes, and congratulations, as well,” the sergeant said. “We hope you enjoy the fort, Mrs. Hennessey.”

  Hattie paused at the use of the name, but with a glance at Jack, she drew in a slow, deep breath and tried to remember their bargain.

  “Thank you, Sergeant O’Hare. I’m sure it’s a lovely place when the weather is more cooperative.”

  “Well, those days are as rare as hen’s teeth, but you keep up that wistful thinking.”

  “Let’s not waste Mrs. Hennessey’s time,” Jack said. “Are you ready to commence?”

  Sergeant O’Hare nodded. “But it does feel strange taking notes for you. You’re the journalist around here.”

  “The interview might stand up better in court if conducted by someone other than Mrs. Hennessey’s husband,” Jack said.

  “Court?” Hattie turned in her chair. “I won’t have to testify in court, will I?”

  “Very likely. Consider your words carefully.” Jack leaned over the arm of his chair. “Now, tell Sergeant O’Hare about your journey. Who was traveling with you?”

  “Sir, I thought I was doing the interviewing,” O’Hare said. “Mrs. Hennessey, please describe the people traveling with you during this journey.”