The Lieutenant's Bargain

by Regina Jennings

  “Those are the ugliest, meanest dogs I’ve ever seen.” Their savage, lean bodies gave her chills. Did this wild spirit lurk in every canine pet? It was worth exploring on canvas. Maybe her sweet Nero hid a vicious temperament, too. She was too quick to judge on appearances.

  “The dogs have to be mean if they want to survive,” Jack said. “At night the wolves come out, and the dogs seem like puppies.”

  “You’re teasing me.”

  He smiled as he held her gaze. “I’m not teasing, but don’t worry. We’ll be safely home before nightfall.”

  Safely home? His home, not hers.

  The town grew as they approached. From a distance, she’d seen two hulking buildings, but as they got closer, the buildings seemed to expand. They were three stories tall and as long as ten wagons. She hadn’t expected to see anything that massive one hundred miles from the nearest railroad.

  “Those are the commissary warehouses. They are nearly eight thousand square feet per story. They hold the supplies that are distributed to the families, as well as the supplies for the Cheyenne and Arapaho school.”

  “Is that the school that the boy who came with us will attend?”

  “It is. And we’ll stop in to see how he’s doing. The school is my favorite place on the reservation.”

  “That’s no surprise,” she said. “I’m shocked you didn’t decide to be a professor at a university.”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “Too predictable. I did a thorough study of my character and determined that I had some underdeveloped areas. The cavalry seemed like a good solution.”

  Oh yes. Hattie truly appreciated the areas Jack had developed since she’d seen him last.

  “It’s good you figured that out for yourself. I had complete strangers identify my deficiencies,” she said. “The galleries I submitted my work to told me that my paintings lacked depth. That I needed to experience more of life to be able to paint with true emotion.”

  “They said that to you?” Jack whistled. “That’s a low-down thing to say.”

  “Actually, it was even worse. I think the words immature and shallow were uttered.” She shrugged, not sure why she was telling Jack in the first place. “But if it’s true, then I needed to hear it. How can my painting improve if I don’t know what’s wrong?”

  The approval in his eyes anchored her. “Sounds like you’re serious about painting.”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying.” Maybe he was finally hearing her.

  They came into the town of Darlington, the headquarters of the Cheyenne and Arapaho Agency. Jack pointed out the neat houses with their empty winter gardens, telling her that most of them were owned by the government employees who worked at the commissary and the agency. Besides them, the town was heavily populated by the Mennonite missionaries who assisted with the education of the tribes. Since white outsiders weren’t allowed to own property in Indian Territory, everyone had to have permission from the government or the tribe to be there.

  A woman walked with her hand against the crown of her head, holding on to her hat as she made her way down the red dirt road to an office. Two Indian men exited a business and walked into what appeared to be a hotel. Another man stood at the hitching post and checked his horse’s shoes. Jack didn’t recognize him and quickly asked Hattie if he looked like the killer. She had to assure him that he didn’t before they could continue to the general store.

  The storefront shone bravely with red trim and green lettering, a welcome splash of color in the colorless landscape and the perfect tone for the Christmas season. The buildings were so new that had her nose not been frozen, Hattie could have probably smelled the fresh paint. Jack parked the wagon near the hitching post and set the brake.

  “Are you ready for your first appearance, Mrs. Hennessey?” His eyes sparkled as if he might have found the nerve to enjoy their predicament.

  “I’m not sure I can even spell Hennessey.”

  “True. I remember you getting whupped in the early rounds of the spelling bee, but happily, spelling skills are not required.”

  She considered telling him that the only requirement necessary for a wife of his was to be too scared to ask questions during an Arapaho ceremony.

  He offered her his hand. She took it, not able to stop thinking about how warm she would have been under his wool cape.

  “Remind me again, what is my reward for participating in this maneuver?” she asked as she disembarked.

  “Clean clothes, hot meals, and a roof over your head. Otherwise, I suppose you could set out for Colorado on foot.”

  “But you won’t let me.”

  He smiled as he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “Correct. The best place for you right now is by my side.”

  “Congratulations, Lieutenant and Mrs. Hennessey.” A slight, balding man appeared in the open door of an office across the street and started toward them. “The chief told me that you’d finally taken his advice.”

  Jack covered her hand with his own, easing her along the walkway. “Yes, sir. Chief Right Hand is quite pleased with our news.” Then, remembering his manners, he gestured to the man. “Hattie, dear, this is Agent Lee. He’s responsible for the well-being of the tribes as well as working in conjunction with the missionaries and the school.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Hattie said. How far would she have to go to convince people of this marriage? It wasn’t as if married couples had to walk around intertwined. Not everyone was demonstrative in public.

  Evidently Agent Lee was. He leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. “A bride is a woman at the height of her beauty. I can always spot one immediately from the radiant glow she emits.”

  Not knowing what to say, Hattie just forced a gritty smile.

  “Well, you must have a wonderful day planned, so I don’t want to interrupt you. See you later.” Agent Lee tipped his hat as he ambled away. Then, turning suddenly, he said, “And congratulations on getting the chief’s nephew to come to the school. If we don’t get more students, it might have to close its doors.”

  “That’s why we’re doing this,” Jack whispered as the agent moved out of earshot. “Right now the families are deciding if they want to send their kids, but soon they won’t have a choice.”

  “What will happen if they close the school?” Hattie asked.

  “Before they opened the school here, Indian students had to apply for limited spots at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School in Pennsylvania. It’s far away from their families and a very difficult transition for them to make. That’s why we can’t let the Darlington school close. That’s why Chief Right Hand’s nephew needs to have a good experience there.” He held the door of the general store open for her. “And now your work begins. What all do you require to make your lot bearable?”

  “I doubt this mercantile has any Rocky Mountains available for purchase.”

  “Yes, but you have to purchase them one rock at a time and assemble them yourself.”

  She tried not to smile as she headed first to the counter.

  “Excuse me,” she said to the storekeeper. He wiped his massive hands on his apron and leaned in for her request. “Do you have any paints?”

  “Paint? Why, sure. I have whitewash and blacking. Then I have half a can of the green I did my lettering in and a tad of red left.”

  “I’m looking for artist’s paints—watercolors and oils. And canvases.”

  “I have some pastels and a few canvases on frames for my artistically inclined customers, but no paints. I could order some. They’d be in by the end of January.”

  “That’d be too late. I’ll be gone by then.”

  “Gone?” The storekeeper’s eyes darted to Jack. “Where y’all going?”

  Jack stepped up to the counter. “We’ll take the canvases. And why don’t you go on and order those paints? Mrs. Hennessey will be grateful whenever they come in.”

  Hattie bit her lip. She’d promised to help him, and here she was messing up again. She pawed through t
he clothing they had for sale to keep herself from making another mistake. Thankfully, there were some ready-to-wear blouses and skirts, and Louisa had promised that Hattie could borrow her sewing machine while she was away to alter what she found. “This could get expensive,” Hattie said. “I need hats, gloves, shoes—everything must be replaced.”

  “My money has been accumulating at an indecent rate, so I appreciate your help distributing it.” Jack picked up a fan and fluttered it in front of his face. “Did Agent Lee say that you are at the height of your beauty?” He tsked. “I guess it’s all downhill from here.”

  Hattie groaned. “I’ve been afraid to look in a mirror ever since you found me. I can guarantee I’ve paid a toll for my adventures.”

  Jack lowered the fan. His dark eyes took on a serious cast. “Anytime you want to know how you look, you can ask me.”

  Hattie’s heart skipped a beat. She yanked the fan from his hand and dropped it on the counter. She hadn’t expected timid Jack to play his role with such flair. He’d better be careful acting like that. You never knew when someone might get confused and think he meant it for real.

  Half an hour later, she was still shopping. Jack carried a buckskin coat through the stacked canned goods to where Hattie was riffling through some lacy fabrics. “I’m not sure it’s a fashionable cut,” he said, “but the leather will keep you warm.” He held it out by the shoulders. “Do you want to try it on?”

  She looked doubtful, but Hattie was a practical sort. She shrugged out of her ragged coat and slid her arms into the buckskin. Jack pulled it up on her shoulders, and when he let go, the weight of it took a full inch off her height.

  “It’s heavy,” she said. “Are you sure they took the deer out of it?”

  He began to button the coat at her neck, and she slapped his hand. Jack stepped back in surprise. “What?” he asked. He was just doing what needed to be done. “We have to see if it fits.”

  “I can dress myself, thank you.” She turned her back to him and tested the buttons.

  Jack’s face warmed. He hadn’t meant it as an intimate gesture, but he was in an impossible situation. Ignore her, and he was a churl. Be helpful, and he got his hand slapped. He looked about the store, but no one else seemed to have noticed the embarrassing moment for the newlywed groom. He leaned against the counter, his hand crushing a lacy pile of softness.

  “What are you doing now?” She bustled to the table, the thick buckskin coat standing stiff and foreboding around her. “Don’t touch my things.” Her hand swept along the counter as he jumped out of the way. She gathered the white items and hid them inside the coat, all the while pinning him with suspicion.

  “I didn’t know you were buying those types of things,” he said. The blood was rushing to his face.

  “All of my luggage is gone.”

  “I understand.” He cleared his throat. “Excuse me.” White lacy things both terrified and intrigued him.

  Jack moseyed to the canned goods and began to set aside a hearty pile. Until now, he’d always eaten in the mess hall with his men, but he could hardly leave Hattie to fend for herself. Besides, she might turn out to be a better cook than Colonel Nothem. Jack wouldn’t mind putting some meat on his bones to stave off the winter cold.

  While he set aside foodstuffs, he pondered the disclosure Hattie had made on the way here. It was impossible to fathom a man looking Hattie in the face and telling her that she was immature or shallow, or lacking in any way. The only flaw he’d ever noticed had been her failure to admire him. Then again, he’d been young when he’d decided to win her. Perhaps that goal could have used some critical reevaluation in the last decade or so.

  An Indian couple entered the store. It was Red Cloud and his wife, Fawn Who Stays, there to buy the strong needles that she needed for the beadwork on her leather goods. Jack tipped his hat to the lady. She stared at him, unblinking, and spoke words that with effort he understood.

  “That’s your wife?”

  Jack looked over his shoulder at Hattie, who was smelling a bar of soap. Red Cloud and Fawn Who Stays were from a village farther from the agency than the one Hattie had been in, yet even they knew of the wedding ceremony. “Yes, ma’am, that’s my wife.”

  “What is her name?” Red Cloud asked.

  “Hattie Walker. Formerly Hattie Walker. Hattie Hennessey now.” Jack pronounced the syllables slowly, knowing how hard it was to catch foreign words the first time.

  Fawn Who Stays’s eyes sparkled. “That’s better than her Arapaho name.”

  Jack drew in a long breath. He didn’t want to know, but it would be rude not to ask. “Which is?”

  She beamed. “One Who Spills Stew in Anger.”

  “That’s an awfully long name, isn’t it?” They might have fooled him with the wedding, but he didn’t believe this.

  Fawn Who Stays shrugged and returned to digging through the sewing notions.

  “We sent Sweet Water to the Christian school,” Red Cloud said. “Fawn Who Stays doesn’t know how she’ll manage without her oldest daughter to help with the younger children, but we want her to learn the new ways.”

  Finally, something was going right for Jack. “Someday she’ll thank you,” he said. “At least I hope so.”

  Red Cloud tested the sharpness of an ice pick on his palm. “Everyone says they know what is best for us, but you . . . you learned who we were before telling us what path to take. We trust you will know our children, too. You will know who they can be in the new world because you know who they were in the old world.”

  But Jack wouldn’t be here to help them anymore—not if Hattie was going free. He watched the man and his wife walk away, and Hattie was watching him.

  “Was that Arapaho you were speaking?” she said. “Funny how you understand it now, but three days ago at the ceremony—”

  “Have you got everything you need?” Jack asked. “Then let’s go to the school.”

  Chapter Twelve

  They stopped the wagon at the imposing school. Hattie could hear children’s voices from the field behind the building. It brought back memories of her own school days, when she was insecure, looking for approval from anyone who would assure her.

  Now she knew better than to rely on a man for her worth. She had her art to prove her accomplishments, but that door would close if she didn’t get a painting into the exhibit. Jack might insist on her staying for a while, but she had to be painting. She was running out of time.

  Jack tossed the reins over the brake handle and turned to look at her. “These children can be rambunctious. Just last May, one of the older boys pulled a knife on Superintendent Seger, but he was brought to the guardhouse immediately. They aren’t going to try to stab you—I don’t think—so try to treat them just as you would any other group of children.” He offered his arm.

  She hesitated, but remembering the comment about the knife, she relented and took his arm as they entered the double doors.

  The high ceiling towered above them, and the black-and-white tile floor made the room feel colder than it should have, with the giant iron stove puffing out heat. Jack walked briskly to the plainly built front desk, nearly dragging Hattie behind him.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Lehrman. How are you?”

  Despite the woman’s tightly coiled hair and somber dress, her smile was as extravagant as a Rococo painting. “Lieutenant Hennessey, how nice to see you.” When she grinned, her chin melted into her thick neck, but her eyes sparkled playfully. She turned her attention to Hattie, and Hattie didn’t know whether to be flattered or afraid. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” she said. “I’m Maria Lehrman, the headmistress here at Darlington.”

  Hattie managed to smile. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lehrman. I’m Hattie”—she felt Jack tense next to her—“Hennessey,” she choked out.

  “Mrs. Hennessey?” Her eyes darted to Jack and back to Hattie. Hattie felt guilty for causing such joy by dishonesty. “Congratulations, Lieutenant! I’d heard a rumor,
but I didn’t credit it. If you’ve been spoken for all this time, you should’ve told someone. Certain teachers here have wasted many lonely hours planning how to get your attention.”

  Hattie took another look at the man next to her. When he had first walked into the Arapaho tepee, she’d thought him dashing. That was before she knew he was Jack. Before he accidentally married her.

  Still, she couldn’t be too surprised that the ladies here had taken a shine to him. The headmistress certainly wasn’t.

  “I can’t believe you’ve kept this to yourself, Lieutenant Hennessey,” Mrs. Lehrman said. “Was it a long engagement?”

  “No, ma’am. It was quite sudden.”

  “I was looking for you after Major Adams’s wedding, but they told me you were headed out to look for some stagecoach robbers. Was it a secret elopement?”

  “You know me better than that, Mrs. Lehrman. I wouldn’t mislead Major Adams.”

  Her eyebrow rose as she swayed back and forth. “And yet I don’t feel like you are being forthcoming with your story at this minute.”

  Jack’s neck turned pink above his blue collar. Was it wrong that Hattie was amused by his discomfort? “I beg your pardon, ma’am. Your curiosity will have to remain unfulfilled.”

  Hattie gripped her skirt and half turned, certain that Jack’s refusal signaled an unpleasant end to a sticky conversation, but to her surprise, he didn’t move.

  “Not yet, dear,” he said. “You’ll want to hear about the Christmas plans.”

  Christmas? Hattie had already prepared herself for being away from home on Christmas, but she hadn’t counted on celebrating it in Indian Territory.

  “Christmas in Darlington is spectacular.” Mrs. Lehrman gestured wide. “Most of our students have never celebrated Christmas before, and it’s a joy to see their excitement as we begin to assemble the decorations and the materials for the Christmas performance. Sometimes I forget the wonder of Christmas and what it means. It’s special to experience it with people who have never heard the story before.”