The Lieutenant's Bargain

by Regina Jennings

  “See, Francine, here’s Lieutenant Hennessey. He keeps bad men away from the school.”

  Bad men, yes, but he wasn’t sure what he could do about mythical monsters.

  “Why are you afraid?” he asked.

  She studied him solemnly but didn’t speak.

  Maybe she hadn’t understood. “Where did you see the scary person?”

  At this she turned away from him and buried her face in Mrs. Lehrman’s shoulder.

  “I’m sorry you’re frightened,” the headmistress said, “but you can’t interrupt the practice. We have a lot of work to do. Now, let’s be a good girl and get up.”

  You would have thought the child had suddenly been struck with a palsy. Mrs. Lehrman tried to pry her arms from around her neck, but the girl held on.

  Just then a miracle happened. Hattie squatted behind Mrs. Lehrman and tapped Francine on the arm. The girl braved a peek through her thick lashes.

  “I’ve never been in this building before,” Hattie said. “Is this your first time, too?”

  The girl shook her head. “We go to chapel,” she said, “for Bible and song. Every day.”

  “You come here every day?” Hattie looked at the high ceiling above her. “Do you get to stand on the stage or do you sit out there?”

  Without a word, the girl pointed out toward the pews that stretched in not-so-straight lines. The jousting shepherds dove between them, darting to avoid being hit by an opponent’s staff.

  Hattie stood. “Where do you sit?” She sounded so genuinely curious that even Jack was almost fooled. Her smile had always been irresistible to him, and evidently it was to Francine, too. She watched as Hattie walked to the first bench. Hattie spun and, with her back straight, perched pertly on the edge of the bench. “I bet you sit here.”

  Francine shook her head and giggled. The headmistress loosened her arms and was able to stand while still holding on to Francine’s shoulder.

  Hattie popped up so suddenly that all the kids laughed. She gave a funny little frown and took a big step to her left. “Is your seat this one?” She dropped onto the pew, and the ribbon on her bonnet bounced.

  Forgetting all about Mrs. Lehrman, Francine ran off the stage to a bench on the second row. She crawled up onto the bench, stomach first, then raised both hands over her head. “Mine!” she crowed.

  Hattie dropped her jaw like it was the most amazing thing she’d ever heard. “Are you pulling my leg?”

  Francine only giggled, probably not familiar with the saying, but Hattie had achieved what she’d set out to do. Mrs. Lehrman was free to continue practice, but right now the headmistress was watching Jack with eyes that were too knowing.

  “God did something remarkable when He brought her to you,” she said.

  Jack watched Hattie play peekaboo over the back of the bench with the laughing child. “Indeed,” he replied. “And I don’t understand why.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Hattie had never seen a Christmas pageant rehearsal like this before. Francine cuddled up next to her, smelling like strong soap and chalk dust, and together they watched as the students learned their lines. A few of them spoke the syllables haltingly. When Mrs. Lehrman gave them direction, another student would translate.

  Their school clothes were creased sharply, starched and proper. Round brown faces contrasted with stiff white collars. The older girls’ shiny black braids coiled around their heads elegantly, while the younger girls’ braids hung down their shoulders. The boys all had short haircuts, all but Tom, whose braids marked him as a newcomer to the program.

  Hattie caught Francine smiling up at her. The girl seemed content enough at the school. It would be a pity if the doors closed and she could no longer attend. Hattie might as well see if she could help Jack in his work while she was here.

  “Francine, you said there’s a scary man about. Can you show me where you saw him?”

  Francine’s smile disappeared. She lowered her eyes and pulled her feet up on the bench to hide them beneath her long skirt. “I didn’t see him. It was Cold Rain who saw him.”

  “Cold Rain? Where is she?”

  “She went home. Her father came and got her when they found out. The man had already stolen her blanket.”

  “But you haven’t seen anything?” When the girl shook her head, Hattie scanned the faces of the children on the stage. What was behind this rumor? Childish imagination or something more nefarious? But there was another question. “How did Cold Rain get word to her father?” Hattie asked. The children were learning to read and write, but the parents couldn’t.

  Francine shrugged. “Boys run away to the villages. Girls, too. They get a special meal and honor for bringing messages for the families, then they come back to the school. Maybe Cold Rain told the messenger that she wanted to go home.”

  Hattie looked at the assembled students with newfound respect. They might be singing English songs and celebrating a Christian tradition, but they had their own ways and their own system of communication that their instructors knew nothing about. “Do you want to show me where Cold Rain saw the spirit?”

  Francine’s eyes grew wide. “It was by her bed. She woke up, and it was floating over her.”

  “C’mon.” Hattie stood. “I’ll ask the headmistress if we can go back to the school—”

  Francine hopped up. “I want to sing.” Running from Hattie like she’d suddenly threatened her life, Francine bounded onto the stage and wormed her way into the line of the choir between two girls her age.

  Hattie snorted.

  “I was just going to compliment you on your skill with children.” Jack stood in the aisle, blocking her end of the row.

  “Evidently it expired.”

  The lines of the choir split, and Tom and one of the older girls walked through.

  “Joseph and Mary,” Jack said.

  “Where is Baby Jesus?” Hattie asked. But then the couple turned to start the procession, and she saw a rag doll strapped onto a cradleboard hanging from the girl’s back. She and Jack looked at each other and laughed.

  “Why not?” Jack said. “It’s the best way to carry a baby on a donkey.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Hattie replied. “My skills with children don’t extend that far.”

  The a cappella singing grew louder as the holy family made their way across the stage to where the shepherds had finally ceased their fighting and were kneeling. Turning, Jack eased his way between the benches and motioned for Hattie to sit.

  “Did you learn anything from your little friend?” he asked.

  He’d removed his overcoat, and as much as Hattie was attached to that piece of wool, she had to admit he cut a striking figure in his uniform. “Francine was scared,” she said. But at Jack’s wrinkled brow, she realized he couldn’t hear her. She scooted closer on the bench. “She said that Cold Rain woke to see the spirit floating above her bed. Francine didn’t see anything herself, though.”

  He put his arm on the back of the bench and leaned in. “The same Cold Rain who was punished for losing her blanket?”

  “She isn’t here anymore. She’s one of the students who returned home.”

  “From which village?”

  Hattie could only shrug. And marvel at how his proximity made her heart feel bigger.

  “Oh, and Jack?” The song had ended. The students began gathering the props from the stage, but Hattie and Jack barely noticed. “Cold Rain’s father knew to come get her. The students take turns running away from school to get messages home to their folks. It’s organized by the tribe.”

  Jack blinked in disbelief. “The chief knows they’re going to leave?”

  “The way Francine told it, everyone knows. They’re given a big meal and sent back to the school with messages for the other students.”

  “All this time we’re tracking them down, scared that we’ve lost a child, when really their parents know exactly where they are. They need to think of a better way. Every time a student leaves, he miss
es a week of classes at least.”

  “Why couldn’t you or one of the soldiers take messages for them? If it would help the children stay in their classes?”

  She’d turned to face him. He was so close. She’d never been this close to a man before. Not without kissing him, anyway. So, yes, she had been this close to a man, but not Jack.

  “They wouldn’t trust us, especially if the messages are criticisms of the school, teachers, and various spirits that haunt the dormitory. I wouldn’t want to deliver those messages anyway, so maybe they shouldn’t trust me.” His eyes held hers with a delicious slow burn that completely surprised her. “Maybe I’m not trustworthy,” he said.

  Those last words had slowed. She couldn’t keep gazing into his eyes. Not without doing something she’d regret. Instead she spotted a rough patch on his jaw. With her thumb, she scrubbed at it.

  “You missed a spot shaving,” she said.

  He held very still as if she could wipe it away. “I was in a hurry this morning. There was a beautiful woman downstairs fixing me breakfast.”

  Something in Arapaho was said loudly, and all the kids huffed out their laughter. Hattie scooted away from Jack and sat with her back flat against the bench. There was pointing, smiling, and dancing.

  “Are they laughing at us?” she whispered. She’d forgotten that she and Jack weren’t trying to playact for anyone.

  He stood and bowed to the students. “Go on,” he said. “I’ll be there in a second.”

  Those who understood raced through the room, the first ones hitting the heavy wooden doors and making them fly. Those still learning English were only a few steps behind. Whatever had transpired, Jack was taking credit for it.

  He took Hattie’s hand and raised her to her feet. “Remember the treat I’ve been working on? Mrs. Lehrman informed them that they will get to skate today.”

  Hattie had only been ice skating a few times. It took a hard winter to freeze the ponds in Van Buren, and it sure didn’t feel cold enough here.

  “They like skating?”

  “Don’t all children? Let’s go.” But instead of heading off to a frozen pond, Jack walked her down the street to a massive three-story warehouse, the commissary.

  “Is there a pond around back?”

  He frowned, then understanding lit his face. “Ahh, you’re in for a surprise.” He hummed a quick tune as he escorted her inside and then up two flights of stairs.

  This was so much better than staying home and rearranging Jack’s library. Being with him made her feel special.

  If only what she was experiencing were real.

  The noise grew as they neared the top of the staircase. The doors opened onto a gigantic room with children whirling throughout. Hattie drew back from the speeding children to get a better look. Roller skates were strapped onto their feet over their sturdy government-supplied shoes. The rhythmic thumping of the skates on the boards sounded like one hundred muffled drums. The excitement in the room was overwhelming. Hattie’s pulse raced. Jack’s face lit up like a boy’s.

  “How long since you went skating?” he asked.

  “Never on roller skates. Isn’t this the commissary?” Stacked crates lined the walls. Those children without skates sat on barrels like statues on pedestals, while the troopers who had accompanied them helped unsteady skaters keep their balance.

  “Usually it’s pretty empty. That’s why I sent the troopers here early to push all the goods to the side and oil up the skates. We haven’t done this in a long time. Most of the students have probably never tried it before.”

  But they were quick learners. Even Tom was scooting around stiff-legged with his hands held out to his sides. Hattie wished she had her paints to capture the new learners’ efforts. The angle of the young Arapaho bodies bending at the waist and leaning forward, the intent concentration of their eyes, the fingers held out even though there was nothing to catch but air—the scene was irresistible.

  Already, Hattie could feel a shift in her appreciation. Before, she’d looked for beauty when choosing a subject—a sunset, a butterfly wing, a mountain. But she was finding herself more drawn to the emotion, the action of the scene. Because that was where she could most clearly see the character, and somehow character was becoming more interesting by the minute.

  Was this what the critics had meant? Was this change what the curators were looking for? Perhaps, but the criticism no longer hurt. Hattie couldn’t be anything but happy watching the youngsters’ exuberance.

  She bounced on her toes. The chase was so entertaining. Two boys zoomed past her, and Jack put out a protective arm.

  “Maybe we should wait behind the barrels,” he said.

  She obediently found a more protected place. She had to squeeze in between the barrel and the wall amid some sacks, but she wanted there to be enough room for Jack, too. She wanted to hear more stories and information about the Indians.

  Jack nodded at a set of double doors at the end of the room. “Those doors are for loading and unloading the crates,” he said. “They open to a pulley above them and nothing below. Excuse me while I make sure they’re locked down into the floor. If a kid slams into them and they open, it’d be a tragedy.”

  She shuddered to think about the height they were at on the third story, but the chaos of the skating students soon distracted her.

  A trooper stepped forward, inserted two fingers in his mouth, and blew a sharp blast. Groans filled the air from those skating. Those sitting on the barrels hopped off and began chasing down a skater.

  “Now the others get their turn,” Jack said as he returned.

  The skaters were sprawled across the room, their skates being hurriedly removed by their impatient classmates. A few still skated, trying to outrun those waiting, but the waiters were organized. They spread out, cornered them, and pulled them to the ground.

  “Watch an expert at work,” Jack said.

  She watched as he went from student to student, studying their discarded skates. Sometimes he would give a wheel a spin. Finally, he found a pair that met his approval. He dropped to the floor next to a long, lean boy with a mischievous grin, and Jack began strapping on the skates right over his cavalry boots. He stood slowly and tested first one leg, then the other, with the same concentration she’d seen him expend at the blackboard over a challenging arithmetic problem. Then, satisfied, he gave her a triumphant grin before launching into a race.

  Hattie hadn’t meant to laugh so loudly. She covered her mouth, shocked as Jack’s long legs powered him quickly around the circle. The boy he’d sat by knew he was being chased. He glanced over his shoulder, both his smile and his eyes growing wide as Jack closed in on him. But the boy wasn’t an easy catch. While Jack was bigger and stronger, the boy was nimble, and in a room full of skating children, he could dart and dodge better than Jack.

  The other boys saw what was happening. Their war whoops nearly made Hattie’s heart stop, but she couldn’t be afraid. Not here. Not with all the innocent laughter and high spirits. The children were scattering. Taking to the sides, they watched as Jack chased the taunting boy, but the clearer the floor, the fewer places there were for him to hide. Instead of going in circles, now it was a game of tag. The boy cut one way, then another. Jack needed more room to change directions, and that kept the boy just out of his reach.

  But the boy was running out of people to dodge through. He was trapped on one side of the room. When he started left, Jack edged that direction, all the time closing in on him. The closer he got, the more Jack grinned. They were laughing, taunting each other in a language she didn’t know, but she could easily understand the gist. The boys and girls along the walls yelled their encouragement, some to their classmate and some to Jack. Seeing that the noose was tightening, the boy made a desperate dash to get past Jack and back into the open room. Once he committed to his direction, Jack picked up speed to head him off, but just as the boy passed a group of his classmates, a small wooden crate tumbled out of the crowd and into
Jack’s path.

  He didn’t have time to stop. Was he agile enough to dodge it? Hattie’s hand covered her mouth. Right when it looked like Jack was going to crash into the crate, he bent and, with a mighty leap, jumped over the box.

  Hattie cheered along with the students, but they were premature. Jack did jump over the crate—he even cleared it—but when his skates hit the ground on the other side, he lost his balance. Like a tall tree being felled, Jack went down, limbs waving in the air until he hit the ground with a mighty crash.

  The boy turned, now worried for the lieutenant. The girls were scolding the younger boy who’d thrown the crate into his path. With open palms, they slapped the fellow, who flinched away from the punishment he was facing. But Jack just rolled over, flopped on his back, and laughed like he’d never had so much fun before.

  Hattie found herself trying to get to him, but her foot was tangled in the drawstring of an old sack. Kicking to free herself, she watched as the boy skated back around and offered Jack a hand up. Jack clasped his hand and got to his feet. There was a lot of good-natured ribbing and slaps on the back as Jack congratulated the boy, and then he was surrounded by his classmates. Hattie waited by the barrel as Jack skated to her, looking every bit as mischievous as the students.

  “I need more practice,” he said.

  “I’d say you presented yourself well.” Hattie took him by the arm and turned him to dust him off. A few slaps on his back knocked the white dust off the blue. His britches needed a dusting as well, but that was his problem. She was still smiling when he looked over his shoulder.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Seeing you bested by a boy made my day.”

  “I’ve got to figure out how to maneuver better. Perhaps if I ordered some skates in a bigger size? These skates don’t distribute a man’s weight properly.”

  Hattie pinched his arm before releasing him. “Don’t you dare. The boy deserved to win. He’s a better skater.”

  “They worked together to beat me, just like the buffalo hunters,” Jack said. “Not that any of these kids are old enough to remember, but their parents would be proud.”