by Regina Scott
He sucked in a breath so hard Waxworth paused in his eating and sniffed the food as if certain Will had found fault. Will couldn’t tell him it wasn’t the meal but his thoughts that concerned him. He hadn’t volunteered to help at the inn because of Mrs. Tremaine’s lustrous black locks or shining gray eyes. Everything must take second place to his duty. He had vowed never to forget that again. Mrs. Tremaine was a means to an end. Unless he and his men knew where they were going and how to get back, they were useless.
When he’d finished his share of the meal, he glanced around at his men, waving to prevent them from standing at attention.
“Lights out at nine,” he ordered, watching the flicker of the fire turn their tanned faces red. “Franklin, Smith, and O’Reilly, you’re on guard duty tonight, change every three hours. Lercher, Waxworth, and I will share guard duty tomorrow night. We’ll start patrolling tomorrow at eight, from the fork of the Firehole River to the pools past the Geyser Gateway Inn, hitting all the points of interest we know so far.”
“Are we knowing the points of interest, then, sir?” O’Reilly asked.
Franklin, Lercher, and Waxworth watched Will expectantly. Smith looked bored.
“Mrs. Tremaine at the Geyser Gateway will supply us with a map,” Will told them. “I’ll have Franklin make copies for each of you.”
Someone blew out a breath in obvious relief.
“And what will we be doing if we catch someone misbehaving?” O’Reilly pressed. “Sure’n but we have nowhere to hold them.”
Not until they were allowed to build more sturdy accommodations.
“We’ll escort them to Mammoth Hot Springs,” Will said. “Captain Harris will likely expel the miscreant from the park.”
His men nodded.
“Like Jessup,” O’Reilly said and spit into the fire, setting it to sizzling.
This time the implied disdain was warranted. Roy Jessup had been the first poacher Captain Harris had evicted after Troop M had arrived in the park. When they’d all been at Mammoth Hot Springs, Will, Waxworth, and O’Reilly had been riding out along the Virginia Canyon Road toward the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone when they’d spotted a grizzled-haired mountain man ahead of them. Buckskins worn and dirty, he was towing a string of pack mules behind him.
“God bless America,” he said with a crooked-tooth grin as they caught up with him. “Glad to see you boys in the park. Can’t be too careful.”
Waxworth preened, but O’Reilly nodded to the pack on the first mule. “Something’s dripping.”
Will saw it too, a dusky crimson staining the bottom of the leather, drops even now sprinkling the dust of the rough road.
He pulled Bess in front of the mountain man. “Halt right there. What’s in those packs?”
“Now, then, Captain,” he wheedled, “there’s no need for concern. I’m just delivering meat to the hotel camp near the canyon. Has to be fresh to please our guests.” He winked.
“Then you won’t mind if we take a look.” Will nodded to O’Reilly, who swung down and approached the mules.
“The Yellowstone Park Association won’t thank you if I’m late,” the mountain man warned, shifting on the saddle. His hand strayed toward the rifle in its sheath at the side. Will drew his pistol, and the man stilled.
O’Reilly threw back the top on the heavy pack, took one look inside, and reared back, paling.
“What is it, Private?” Will called.
O’Reilly swallowed. “Buffalo head, sir. Fresh kill. Sure’n but those eyes can look right through a man.”
Will leveled his gun on the poacher. “Your name.”
Face hard, the man glared at him. “Roy Jessup. And you better remember it, because I’m the man who’s going to run the Army out of Yellowstone.”
“Roy Jessup,” Will barked, “you are under arrest for poaching. Your animals and belongings are forfeit. Surrender your weapons, and come with me to Mammoth Hot Springs.”
Jessup chuckled, and the sound held no humor. “What are you going to do if I refuse?”
In truth, he had no option, but Jessup didn’t need to know that. “The Army is in charge of this park. There are penalties for disobeying the rules. Private Waxworth, relieve Mr. Jessup of his weapons. Private O’Reilly, take charge of the animals.”
Hemmed in on all sides, outgunned, Jessup had had no choice but to surrender. Captain Harris had given Will the honor of escorting him from the park.
“This isn’t the last you’ve seen of me,” the poacher had threatened as they’d reached the northern boundary. “This land belongs to everyone. You’ve no right to keep me from it.”
“And you’ve no right to despoil it,” Will had countered. He’d only wished he’d been able to do more than force Jessup to dismount and watch him walk toward the town of Gardiner with only his buckskins to his name.
How many more people like Jessup would they find hiding in the park? Would they have any idea where to look without a competent guide?
Mrs. Tremaine’s map couldn’t come too soon. He only hoped it would be enough.
3
With everything to be done around the hotel, Kate didn’t have time to start on Lieutenant Prescott’s map after all. Her first chore before dinner was to chat with Mr. Ponsonby. She located the dandy lounging on the porch swing that faced the trees and the circuit road, pipe in one hand. He hastily put it out as she approached and stood to meet her.
“I forgot,” he said. “You asked us not to smoke on the premises.”
At least he hadn’t lit up in his room or out among the trees. Fire was a constant danger in the park. “Apparently, you also forgot another of the rules here. Nothing is to go into any geyser or mud pot opening.”
He waved a hand before settling back on the swing as if assuming she’d join him. “A ridiculous precaution. Have you seen how high those geysers shoot? Surely a stick or two wouldn’t interfere with the process.”
“You might be surprised,” Kate said, remaining standing.
He pushed the swing lazily with one foot. “I am not easily surprised. And that soldier interrupted a scientific experiment.”
Is that what he called vandalism? “Nevertheless, sir,” she said, “if you cannot respect the rules, I will have to ask you to leave.”
He stared up at her, paling. “Leave? But there isn’t another suitable hotel for miles.”
“Very likely not,” Kate agreed sweetly. “But there’s always the Fire Hole to the north. I understand they’ve nearly managed the bedbug infestation.”
He cringed a moment, then rose, chin up. “Very well. I will abide by these childish rules. I’m leaving tomorrow, in any event. And you can be sure I will mention to the park superintendent that your hospitality was distinctly lacking.”
“If you feel you must,” Kate said. “I will, of course, be required to inform Captain Harris about the distressing incident with the stick and the mud pots. I don’t believe he’s settled on consequences, yet, but I doubt they will involve much jail time.”
He pushed past her for the hotel.
Kate shuddered. Unpleasant fellow. Most of her guests were far more understanding. And if they weren’t, they, like Mr. Ponsonby, would be shortly gone. Few stayed more than a day or two as they toured the park.
And the ones currently at the inn deserved her attention.
She returned inside to help her maids set the tables, then served beside them to keep the food and lemonade flowing while Danny ate his dinner in the kitchen with Alberta and Caleb. While the maids washed up, she managed a few bites of the beef stew before chipping in to dry and store the china and silver in the white-painted cupboards that ran the extent of one wall in the long kitchen.
“Another fork gone,” the tallest of the maids, Ida, said as she laid the last utensil in the wide drawer near the door to the dining room. She shoved her light-brown hair off her forehead, face sagging. “What, do they eat them?”
Sarah, the youngest at sixteen, giggled, blonde ringlets bo
uncing. “No. They collect them, like the rocks.”
“And why them either?” Ida asked, clearly perplexed. “Like that lady last week who wanted Caleb to break her off a piece from Morning Geyser.”
Pansy, who had been with Kate the longest, shook her head, blonde hair glinting. “They shouldn’t be taking anything from Yellowstone but memories.”
“And those pictures Mr. Haynes sells,” Sarah reminded her. “I’m going to bring one home to Ma when the season’s over.”
“Not long now,” Ida said with a grateful sigh.
Not long at all. With the exception of Alberta, all her staff would be leaving by the end of September, and work wouldn’t start again until late April at the earliest, when the roads cleared.
“I haven’t had a chance to talk to you about next season,” Kate said, going to hold the door open for them to leave the kitchen. “I hope you’ll all consider returning.”
Ida smiled at her as she passed. “I’d like that, Mrs. Tremaine. Thank you.”
Pansy went so far as to drop a curtsey. “Me too, Mrs. Tremaine. The guests are ever so kind about leaving considerations.”
Sarah gave her a bright smile. “I’ll have to let you know. I hear the big hotel at Mammoth will be hiring. All the best people stay there.”
Ida and Pansy frowned at her as she flounced past.
Kate bit back a sigh as she watched them head up the stairs to the staff quarters. Keeping staff was never easy. Like Alberta, Pansy had worked here since Kate and Toby had arrived. Elijah had started a year later; she still remembered when he’d ridden out to meet Toby and convinced him to take a chance on a new tour company. Caleb was coming on two years now. But everyone else changed, found other work, better work. And now she had to contend with the fancier hotels the Yellowstone Park Association was building. She would have to advertise for help farther out, hope someone suitable would answer. After all, Alberta had originally answered an advertisement in Ohio.
She had planned to start the map right after breakfast the next day, but she had no sooner swept the plank floor around the tables when the rattle of tack and drum of horses’ hooves heralded the arrival of a stagecoach. The Wakefield and Hoffman group had a corral, stables, and rooms for their drivers to the north of her, but their passengers often preferred to stay at the Geyser Gateway. The driver carried off eight of her guests for Mammoth Hot Springs. Another six had already left with their driver for Old Faithful. After seeing everyone off, she had to make her morning tour of the geyser field, where she discovered one of her guests attempting to boil a fish he’d caught in the Firehole River in one of the hot pools. She ordered him back to the hotel and spent the next little while trying to retrieve the bones from the pool with a wooden paddle while Danny offered advice from a safe distance.
It was noon before she sat down again, and then she was interrupted by the arrival of Elijah Freeman. Funny—she hadn’t been expecting him today. She tucked her hair back into her bun and straightened her flower-printed fitted bodice before throwing open the wide front door.
“Welcome to the Geyser Gateway Inn!” she proclaimed as soon as Elijah drew his team to a stop.
Six pairs of eyes gazed back at her from faces displaying everything from delight to awe to concern. She understood. Some, like her, fell in love with the wondrous features of the park. Others found it all too wild.
Caleb hurried from the barn to take charge of the horses while the driver jumped down to land with a puff of chalk.
“Mrs. Tremaine, I bring you a distinguished group of visitors,” Elijah declared, whipping his hat off his tightly curled black hair. “All the way from Berkshire, England. Lord and Lady Cavell; their daughter, Miss Cavell; Sir Winston Wallingford; and their servants.”
Kate bobbed a curtsey and stepped aside as Elijah handed them down and they made their way into the inn. As the stage driver brought up the rear, Kate leaned closer. “Came all that way and didn’t bother to reserve?”
Elijah’s grin was conspiratorial in his dark face. “Oh, they reserved. The Bassett Brothers stage driver hadn’t arrived yet when I stopped by the station at Cinnabar to see if anyone needed a tour. I convinced them to come here instead of the Fire Hole.”
The Fire Hole Hotel to the north, like most of the hotels in the park, now belonged to the Yellowstone Park Association. It was also far more rustic than the Geyser Gateway.
“You keep poaching visitors, and someone will notice,” Kate predicted.
He laughed. “Man’s got to make a living. Why else drive in Yellowstone?”
With a smile, she hurried to check in her new guests even as Elijah went to bring in their luggage. By the time she had everyone settled, the day was advancing. Danny was helping Caleb with the horses, so she hurried upstairs to the small apartment at the end of the hotel, where she and Danny made their home. Sitting at the table in the center of the main room, she sketched a map. The hotels, the geysers and paint pots, the curves of the Firehole River and the footbridges across it, the bridle path to Fairy Falls, the Grand Prismatic Spring, and various lakes.
She hesitated on the area to the west of Fairy Creek, then purposely marked it “Off-Limits.” It was an Army term she’d heard from Lieutenant Kingman, the Corps of Engineers officer in charge of improving Yellowstone’s roads. She could only hope Lieutenant Prescott and his men were familiar with it too. If not, she’d have to take other measures to protect the area.
She had just come downstairs again when she saw Lieutenant Prescott hitching his horse outside. She patted her bun in place, bit her lips for color.
And froze.
What was she doing, primping? She was a widow, Toby gone barely a year. She wasn’t courting, had no plans to marry again. She had too much to do as it was.
She straightened her shoulders, put on a smile that was no more than pleasant. The moment he walked in the door, she held out the rolled map. “Lieutenant Prescott. Here’s my end of the deal.”
His brows rose, but he accepted the map, then crossed to the desk that held the guest book and unrolled the map on top of it. Kate went to join him, careful to keep a respectable distance.
He nodded as his gaze swept over her drawing. “Nicely executed but inadequate.”
Kate stiffened. “Inadequate? Why?”
“Distances, for one,” he said. “Is this to scale?”
“No,” Kate admitted. “I didn’t think of that.”
He pointed to the western meadows. “Who put this area off-limits?”
So, he did know the term. Kate lifted her chin. “I did. We don’t take visitors there. It has no pools or waterfalls. No reason for strangers to intrude.”
He straightened to eye her, and she was suddenly aware of his height, the width of his chest, the depth of his gaze. “This is Yellowstone, Mrs. Tremaine. We’re all strangers.”
Kate kept her head high. “It’s part of my lease from the Department of Interior. And I choose to keep it off-limits.”
He returned his attention to the map, and she felt an odd disquiet, as if someone had taken the last piece of huckleberry pie before she’d had a bite.
“I doubt Captain Harris realized your lease amounted to hundreds of acres,” he said. “He intends to cut back all hotel lands to the immediate vicinity of the buildings themselves.”
Then she had some convincing to do. “That’s his prerogative, but, at the moment, my lease stands.”
“I’m afraid this map doesn’t.” He let go of the paper, and it rolled up to rock on the book. “These aren’t trackless prairies where a patrol can see for miles. We need to know the trails, the distances between stations, the location of fresh, cool water for us and our mounts, the hazards of scalding fountains and pools. I have a responsibility to keep my men safe.”
“I thought your bigger responsibility was to safeguard Yellowstone,” Kate countered. “But I see your point. I’m not sure I could draw you a map that would detail all those points. Even the men who hire on as guides would be hard-pr
essed to draw such a map.”
He sighed. “So much for our deal.”
She was not about to let him off so easily. The list of things needing fixing was growing in her head to epic proportions. And they only had until the snow started flying six weeks from now.
Or sooner.
She could think of only one alternative, one that would take her away from her hotel and into the company of this man who made her think of things long buried. But if Captain Harris was to renew her lease, all of her lease, she needed him to know she supported the Army.
“The deal stands,” she insisted. “I’ll simply have to show you around myself.”
Will stared at her. Those misty eyes looked hard as stone. Her chin jutted out, and her rosy lips were compressed.
“I thought you had a business to run,” he protested.
Her eyes narrowed. “I do, but I won’t if I don’t have help. Since I’ll be doing a favor for the entire detachment, I imagine I’ll find uses for all your men.”
It was one thing to offer her his time off, another to put a detachment at the disposal of a civilian. “I can’t promise that.”
She cocked her head. “One day a week, all meals provided?”
Her staff’s cooking? Waxworth would be drooling. Perhaps Will could convince Captain Harris it was in the best interest of the Army. Better food generally meant better prepared soldiers.
“I’ll consider it,” he said. “In the meantime, I have four hours at my disposal now. What would you like me to do first?”
Her eyes lit, like moonlight through mist. “Fix the front steps. We need to make a good impression on new arrivals.”
One look at her would do that. Will cleared his throat, though he hadn’t said the words aloud. “Do you have the tools?”
“In the barn around back. If Caleb or Elijah is there, tell him I approved of you.”
She seemed to expect him to set right to work, for she strode off toward the back of the hotel. Something begged him to follow. He made himself head for the barn behind the hotel instead.