The Lieutenant's Bargain

by Regina Jennings

  “We heard that the Cheyenne shot an intruder,” Jack said, “but he got away. Have your scouts seen anything?”

  “No. No one has been found. If we find a body, we always tell you.”

  “And I appreciate your help,” Jack said.

  Hattie left the table to go to the pantry. She opened the door and began digging into the middle shelf.

  “Need some help?” Jack half rose from his seat.

  “No, I got it”—she turned around and waved a can of peaches in his face—“dear.” Then she opened the drawer for the can opener.

  Jack dragged his attention back to the chief. “You visited with Tom Broken Arrow?” he asked. “How is he doing in the school?”

  The chief politely laid aside his spoon before answering. “The lessons are not hard, but he misses his land. He doesn’t get to ride his horse. He doesn’t get to hunt. He is a slave. The only joy in his day is learning to care for the animals.”

  Jack knew plenty of his friends growing up in Arkansas felt the same way about school, but this was a serious issue for the Arapaho.

  “It’s hard for strong young men to sit at desks all day,” Jack said, “but that’s how white men pass on their wisdom.”

  The chief scoffed. “Marks on pages can’t teach you to be a man.”

  Jack thought of his Bible, which was now missing somewhere upstairs. “A boy needs a good man to teach him how to be a man. But a good man can make those marks on a page, and then his lessons can be shared for generations. Think of your wisdom and the lessons you want to pass on to your children. We could write your words down, and then your children’s children could learn from you, even after you have . . .” He couldn’t think of the nice expression, so he went with what he knew. “. . . died.”

  The aged chief thought this over. “There can be goodness there. That’s why Tom is at the Darlington school. But I don’t want him to forget the lessons he learned with his hands and with his heart.”

  “I understand,” Jack said. He leaned back as Hattie pushed bowls of peaches in front of them. He smiled at her, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  “There are other problems at the school,” the chief continued. “The children are frightened. Three from another village have gone home.”

  “Frightened?” Jack stabbed a slippery peach. “Frightened of what?”

  The chief shrugged. “They say there’s an evil spirit at the school. It rises up from the ground and steals their dreams while they are asleep.”

  Jack cast a nervous glance at Hattie. She couldn’t understand a word the chief was saying, and that was for the best. Not all aspects of the Indian culture would be reassuring to her.

  “The school is a Christian school,” Jack said. “Evil spirits have no power there, but I’ve heard the stories, too. And things have gone missing. Blankets?”

  The chief nodded. “Could be older students telling tales to scare the younger and hiding their things? I don’t know. But three children were troubled. Didn’t eat during the day, couldn’t sleep at night. Their parents took them home.”

  Jack’s heart sank. The school couldn’t stay open if they lost many more students. What would that mean for them? For the tribe?

  “Just as you say. The older kids must be telling ghost stories. I’ll go and talk to them.”

  The chief finished his last peach, then picked up the bowl and drank the sweet syrup out of the bottom. “It’s good if you go,” he said. “If you find there’s nothing to fear, the leaders will listen to you.” His eyes sparked with mischief. “A family man like you has our respect.”

  Hattie paused with her spoon halfway to her lips. It wasn’t hard to guess that the chief was talking about her. Jack thought of his missing book collection and responded, “Yes, Chief. And I have you to thank for bringing me such a helpful wife.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  She’d never imagined that anyone could be so appreciative of canned peaches. Chief Right Hand licked his lips and nodded courteously as he left the kitchen with the air of one who had many appointments for the day and couldn’t be delayed.

  “I’ll be right back.” Jack tapped the table but avoided the glare she was sending him. It would serve him right if she carried all those books back down the stairs and dumped them in the middle of the parlor rug. Then again, that might be what he was planning to do when he returned.

  Hattie stacked the bowls and utensils and carried them to the sink. To think that she’d been terrified of Chief Right Hand not too long ago. He’d sat in her kitchen and eaten with them, just like any other gentleman.

  Her kitchen? Well, as long as she was the only woman living in the house, it should, by rights, be her kitchen. She had nothing else of her own.

  By the time she was hanging up her apron, she heard the front door open again. Hattie paused, trailing her hand slowly down the hanging fabric. She might have messed up Jack’s books, but she’d meant well. Didn’t that count for something?

  Slowly, she walked through the dining room to find Jack in the parlor, fists against his hips, like he was observing a contested battlefield. His mouth was twisted to the side and his nose wrinkled—hardly the response she expected. Frustration bubbled up inside her as she waited for his verdict.

  But instead he asked, “How much of your life has changed since you arrived?”

  Hattie blinked. “What?”

  “Life here is different than it is in Van Buren. It’s also different than what you had planned in Denver. How is it different? Tell me what changes you’ve endured.”

  Hattie crossed her arms over her chest. This was a topic she could go to town on.

  “First off, I never wanted to live at a fort. Soldiers and troopers everywhere. Bugles telling what hour it is. No women to visit with until the Adams family returns. Secondly, living in Indian Territory is awful. There’s nothing to do, nothing to see. Now, as far as my personal experience, well, I’d planned to live in a boardinghouse, which would mean that I was free to paint, and paint I must. If I have any hopes of being included in the exhibition, I must have a work to submit in two weeks, although what I’d paint here, I have no idea. But instead of painting, I’m cooking for you and whomever you bring home. I’m sharing a house with someone who, no offense, is little more than a long-lost acquaintance, and I don’t even have my own clothes. Everything I thought I was going to have in Denver has been lost, and it’s not easy losing something as big as the Rocky Mountains.”

  Jack couldn’t tear his eyes away from the room. His chest stretched with a sigh. “You’ve lost a lot. I suppose it’s only fitting that I sacrifice some books.”

  “Books? You call that a sacrifice?” She had about determined that he’d lost his head when she realized he was laughing at her.

  He dropped his hand to her shoulder and gave her a playful shove. “What I’m trying to say is thank you for doing all of this, and I don’t just mean arranging the parlor. I mean thanks for everything you gave up. You might not have intended to do it, but you could’ve made this more difficult than it is.”

  “Just because I’m tolerating you today doesn’t mean that I will tomorrow. I reserve the right to throw a tantrum at any point.”

  “I’m feeling up to the challenge today,” he said.

  Times like these made Hattie wonder if she’d ever known Jack at all. To keep herself from gazing at him in wonder, she said, “What did the chief say? Do you think he’ll let us off the hook soon?”

  Jack shook his head. “Chief Right Hand said there’s trouble with the students. They think the school is haunted. I think it’s time they get a little treat as a reward for their hard work. I’m going to head there right now.”

  “Right now?” Hattie looked past the dusty curtains at the cold prairie. She was starved for company, for color, for anything exciting. While she didn’t want Jack to get the wrong impression, another trip to town would break up the long day. “I could go and visit with the kids. I don’t know if I’d be any help, but . . .�
��

  Jack’s eyes lit up. “Come with me,” he said. “There’s something I’ve always been curious about.”

  That statement made Hattie all the more curious, too.

  The last time Hattie had gone to Darlington, she’d been dressed in Mrs. Adams’s clothes, still shaken from her rescue, and not sure where she was. This visit, she would put on her best ensemble from the mercantile, fix her hair, and know the lay of the land. But she was still missing her earring.

  She smiled at her reflection in her hand mirror. While the simple mercantile clothes weren’t anything to be proud of, Hattie had outgrown being the victim. Today she was going because she’d chosen to go. Because there was more chance of something interesting happening in town with Jack than if she stayed behind cleaning his study. What was it about Jack? Being with him filled her with anticipation, like they were always on the verge of a fascinating discovery. Like there was treasure locked up inside, and sooner or later Jack—or maybe she—was going to find the right key and surprise everyone. And Hattie wanted to be there for that moment. What that surprise was and why she instinctively knew it would involve her, Hattie didn’t question. It was enough that being around Jack was fun, exciting, and sometimes exasperating.

  And if Jack didn’t provide enough diversion, maybe she’d find something to sketch, even if it was a study of the mule skinner’s wagons that delivered supplies to the agency.

  She came down the stairs, carrying her sturdy buckskin coat. “Thank you for waiting,” she said to Jack.

  “Yes, ma’am. The wagon is ready.”

  He opened the door and escorted her outside, where she faced five troopers who looked like they’d been waiting on their horses for an hour. Because they had.

  Jack gave her a dazzling smile. While he’d avoided eye contact earlier, his eyes lingered on her now, even traveling her face as if suddenly free to do so. He hopped off the porch and held out a hand to her. “Your chariot awaits.”

  Hattie paused. He’d retained the playful spirit that he’d had in the parlor, but now he had an audience. They’d been getting on so well, but was it part of his act?

  He climbed up into the wagon next to her once she was seated, but his voice was less sure. “If you don’t want to go . . .”

  Deciding to play along, Hattie tucked her hand under his arm. Jack’s charming manner didn’t fade, even when the other troopers were out of earshot.

  A muscle flexed on his freshly shaved jaw. “I want to talk to the kids, but I don’t know if I’ll get a straight answer from them. Besides the language barrier and the distrust they have of us, they are kids, after all. It could be a case of childish imagination.”

  “I pretended to be sick so I could miss school once,” Hattie said. “I didn’t want to do the recitation.”

  “I remember. You pinched your cheeks and put a hot water bottle against your face to convince your ma.”

  How was it that he remembered every little incident of their childhood? She knew he was smart, but that was ridiculous.

  “My point is, maybe they’re making up stories so their parents will let them come home,” she said.

  “That’s why we’re going to give those who stayed a treat today. Why make them wait until Christmas for a reward?”

  Christmas was coming. Hattie grinned at the thought of his tidy parlor decorated for the holiday. And the dining room. How elegant she could make it look with red tapers and an arrangement of holly as a centerpiece. If she didn’t have paints, she’d use his house as a canvas.

  It took less than an hour to arrive at the school. Unlike their earlier visit, no children played outside. They were probably working at their lessons with the heartbroken Miss Richert—whom Hattie hoped to avoid.

  While they found a place to tie up the wagon, Jack sent the troopers to prepare the warehouse. For what, Hattie didn’t bother asking. She had other concerns.

  “Remember to treat Miss Richert kindly, Jack, but not too kindly, if you have no interest in a future relationship with her.”

  “Really, Hattie? I don’t know why you persist with this.”

  “Because you’re blind.” Hattie smoothed a bonnet ribbon beneath her chin so it didn’t flap in her face. “You need to be careful. You don’t realize how easily a woman could fall for you.”

  “That’s not been my experience,” he said.

  “Or maybe it has been, but you’re too thickheaded to see it.” Hattie laughed. “In this I’m smarter than Lieutenant Hennessey, but there is one mystery you could help me with. If you’re not in love with Miss Richert, then who is she? As far as I can tell, there are no other ladies within fifty miles of here.”

  “Who is who?”

  “Who is this sweetheart that you told everyone about? People seem to have me confused with someone else. Private Willis said you’ve carried a torch for a lady for years. Is that true?”

  Jack’s eyes fluttered.

  Hattie gasped. “It is true. Then how can you pretend to be in love with me? Doesn’t it feel like a betrayal?”

  “There’s only one woman I’ve ever pined over, and I didn’t meet her here. In fact, I’ve known her most of my life.”

  “Oh, stop it. This act of yours is going too far, and you can’t fool me. So who was she? Ida Monroe? She was the quiet sort. Smart, like you.”

  His Adam’s apple jogged. “Hattie, why are we having this conversation? We have a fun day ahead of us. Let’s enjoy it.”

  She studied him for a moment as he got out of the wagon. “I want to be as honest as possible,” she said, taking his hand to disembark. “We shouldn’t pretend to feel something we don’t. Especially when there are others’ feelings to consider.”

  Something about the way his eyes lit up made her feel lighter on her feet. “I’m going to be honest today,” he said, “and you will be amazed.”

  Even though he stood straight and proper in his uniform, facing down the sharp wind, the shine in his eye evidenced that he’d just issued her a personal challenge. Slowly, Hattie was coming to a conclusion. Jack had always been the competitive type in school. Not in the schoolyard, mind you, but at his studies. If he ever missed a math problem, you could be sure he’d come back the next day having already mastered the next three lessons. If he answered a question wrong before the class, whether it be in geography or history, he’d return as an expert on the subject so he wouldn’t embarrass himself again. That was what this was. This was Jack not wanting to fail at his mission.

  Jack held the door open for her, and they walked the empty hallway together. Through the glass-paned doors, the desks sat empty. An American flag waved slightly in the heat rising from the potbellied stove next to the teacher’s desk.

  “They didn’t all go home, did they?” Jack looked sick. Poor man. He really did hate to fail.

  She placed a sympathetic hand on his arm while he scanned the bleak room. Bleak until Miss Richert appeared from the room across the hall, and Hattie saw a chance to brighten his day.

  “Miss Richert, I understand that you’ve lost some students.”

  There. He’d greeted the teacher and made a coherent statement. If what Hattie said was true, he wouldn’t risk speaking any more than necessary.

  He watched as Miss Richert directed her answer to Hattie, giving him the cold shoulder. So it was true. She’d liked him, but he’d never noticed. He looked at Miss Richert with new eyes as she and Hattie discussed the rumors that the children were spreading about ghosts. Miss Richert stood with her primer held tightly against her chest, while Hattie leaned forward and listened as if every word was a treasure. It was amazing how Miss Richert’s posture softened. Her face registered relief when Hattie expressed her delight with the students she’d met so far. He found that instead of studying Miss Richert, he was again appreciating Hattie. How did she manage people so well?

  She was right. In this way, she was smarter than he was.

  “Well, are we going?” Hattie asked.

  How long had he been s
tanding there? “Yes?” he said and grimaced until Hattie nodded that he’d answered correctly.

  “Thank you, Miss Richert,” Hattie said. “We’ll head to the mission house now.”

  The mission house? Jack hurriedly tipped his hat as Hattie dragged him from the room.

  “It’s going to be difficult, but there’s a way,” Hattie said as she strode down the hall. “After this whole mess is behind us, there’s got to be a way you can come back and explain to her.”

  “Just stop,” he said as they hurried down the empty hallway, their footsteps echoing off the newly painted walls. “I’m not in love with her. I never have been, and I never will be. Now, why are we going to the mission house?”

  “That’s where the students are practicing their Christmas pageant. How did you not hear her?”

  He escorted Hattie out the big set of double doors. “I have a lot on my mind,” he said. He’d always known Hattie would keep her man on his toes. He’d never believed it might be him.

  Even from the street, the students’ cheerful voices could be heard coming through the closed windows of the mission house. Festooned with red sashes and pine boughs, the room already had a festive mood. Add the dark-skinned boys pretending to count coup with their shepherd’s crooks and the girls swaddling rag dolls with linen bandages, and the room was barely contained chaos. Mrs. Lehrman sat at the front, a crying girl from the primer class curled up on her lap.

  “There, there, Francine. No one is going to steal you away while we’re practicing. You’re in plain sight on the stage.”

  “I want to go home,” the girl sobbed, “before he comes out of the ground and gets me.”

  Jack approached. The group of children split, eyes wide, as he passed. Even the coup counters halted their contest. He knelt next to the headmistress as she turned the child toward him.