by Regina Scott
Will blew out a breath. What had he been thinking to touch her that way? Sure, there’d been a drop of yellow paint on the golden tan of her skin, but he could have just let her know or offered her his handkerchief. There was no reason to let his thumb linger on the soft, smooth skin, so warm, so vibrant.
He marched himself down to the next shutter and gave it a shove. The hinges creaked in protest.
He had just finished tightening them when he heard the drum of a horse approaching. Kate and Danny also turned at the sound. Will had become accustomed to the movements of her guests. Most set out and returned at a leisurely pace. This rider galloped down the road, and Will caught sight of the cavalry coat and yellow-striped trousers a moment before he recognized O’Reilly. The Irishman careened into the yard and pulled up his horse so sharply it reared.
“Message from Captain Harris,” he barked as he settled to earth. “Forest fire raging to the southwest of Mammoth Hot Springs. He’s asking for our help to fight it.”
Will set the oil can on the porch rail and nodded to Kate. “I must go.” He started for the steps.
“Will, wait.”
The sound of his first name rather than the command pulled him up short. She moved to his side. Her misty eyes were wide, her lips trembled.
“Ma’am?” he asked.
She laid a hand on his arm. “Just . . . be careful.”
He smiled. “You’ve taught us well. We’ll be on the watch for any danger.”
She released him and stepped back, and he went to fetch Bess from where he’d left her in the corral beside the barn.
He and O’Reilly cantered back to camp together. “Who brought the news, Private?” he asked as they rounded the bend from the Geyser Gateway. Something tugged at him, like a hand on his shoulder, urging him back to the inn, but he shrugged it off.
“It was brought by the telephone,” O’Reilly said, awe creeping into his voice. The Yellowstone Park Association had put in telephones at all its hotels, allowing the Army free use. The messages ran down telegraph wires strung in discreet locations to prevent distracting from the wonders.
“Fellow from the hotel took down the words and carried the message over to us,” the Irishman continued. “Private Lercher was all for waiting until you returned, but Mr. Smith insisted we open it right then.”
“Smith was right,” Will said. “A message from headquarters should brook no delay. Did it mention whether the fire started from a lightning strike or some other cause?”
“Captain Harris wasn’t saying,” O’Reilly allowed. “But the clerk from the Fire Hole had his own opinion, he did. The story going about is that Jessup is back in the park and looking to take his revenge.” He spit over the side of his horse.
But the note held a bit more explanation when Will received it at camp. Captain Harris had ordered him to send three of his men north, while the rest remained on duty at the Lower Geyser Basin.
Three of his men. Not him. Harris was excluding him from any chance of valor or promotion. It seemed Will wasn’t the only one who thought he needed to do penance. Still, he knew who would most benefit from the opportunity.
“Smith and Franklin, with me,” he told his men. “Waxworth, Lercher, and O’Reilly, gather your kit. Report to Captain Harris at Mammoth Hot Springs. And gentlemen,” he added as they started for their tents, “do us proud. Mr. Jessup doesn’t get away with this.”
O’Reilly paused to salute. “Sir.”
Will’s stomach tightened as he watched his men ride north a short time later. What he’d told Kate was right—they knew the dangers. And they knew his and Captain Harris’s expectations of them. That had to be enough for them to reach Camp Sheridan with no repercussions, to them or to Yellowstone.
“We’ll need to adjust the routine,” he told Smith and Franklin as they finished a dinner of salt pork and beans Waxworth had started earlier. “We’ll each take a watch at night. Private Smith, I expect you to pick up the cooking.”
Smith raised a dark brow. “You’re a braver man than I took you for, Lieutenant.”
Franklin hastily added a second helping to his plate, as if concerned it might be their last decent meal.
Will chose not to respond to Smith directly. “We’ll alternate patrols during the day. I’ll take mornings with Smith and afternoons with Franklin. That way Smith can be in camp to cook dinner, and Franklin can work mornings on the cabin.”
Franklin shook his head. “I appreciate your faith in me, Lieutenant, and this opportunity to prove I’m more than a horse soldier, but I can’t make much progress on my own.”
“And I imagine the Widow Tremaine will miss your company if you must patrol all day,” Smith put in, sliding a sliver of wood into his mouth like a cigar.
“I’ve done enough to repay Mrs. Tremaine for her kindness to us thus far,” Will said, reminding his private of the purpose of his visits. “We still need her help to learn the wider area, but we’ll hold off on that until we’re fully staffed again. Any questions?”
“Only about the cabin, sir,” Franklin said. “As far as I can tell, there isn’t enough lumber to build bunks, and not enough room to sleep six to a floor and still have room for supplies.”
Just as Kate had warned.
“I’ll alert Captain Harris to send more lumber,” Will promised. “After they’ve dealt with this fire.”
“If he doesn’t, we’ll be drawing lots as to who keeps a tent,” Smith predicted.
“Leave the provisioning to me, Private,” Will said. “None of us would survive sleeping out this winter.”
“And what of the horses?” Smith challenged. “If there’s not enough wood for bunks, there won’t be enough for a barn.”
He was right. Will was so used to living in a well-provisioned fort, or terrain that didn’t require shelter from snow, that he hadn’t considered what they’d do with the horses. Besides the barn, they’d need hay, oats for the winter. There’d be nowhere to graze. Surely Captain Harris had considered that. Yet Kate had said there was only a month or six weeks left before they’d need those supplies and shelters. When did Harris think they’d have an opportunity to build?
As if he was having the same concerns, Franklin edged closer in the firelight. “Any chance of us requisitioning space from one of the property owners, sir?”
“Not from the Fire Hole,” Smith told him. “I’ve spoken to the manager a few times as I rode through. They plan to close up for the winter by the middle of October.”
They both looked to him, and he knew what they were thinking. The only buildings left in the area that might have space to house them and their horses were the ones at the Geyser Gateway. Kate had plenty of room for them in the hotel, and she had plans to overwinter. With Elijah’s six horses out of the park, there would be space for their horses in the barn. But adding another six people to the inn would tax her supplies to the breaking point. Even with the supplies Captain Harris would surely send for the cavalrymen and their mounts, there was the additional wood for heating more rooms, the laundry, the strain of having guests for months.
He would have to make some tough choices soon. And he didn’t relish having to explain the situation to Kate if he was forced to choose the well-being of his family over hers.
8
Kate couldn’t deny the surge of relief as Will and Private Smith rode into the yard the next morning.
“False alarm?” she asked as they reined in beside the hitching post.
“No, ma’am,” Will said, touching the brim of his dun hat. “Three of my men are up north, helping Captain Harris fight a fire.”
Kate frowned. “Careless campers?”
Will nodded to Private Smith, who set his horse on a circuit around the perimeter of the geyser field. Most of Kate’s guests had moved on, but a couple from Minnesota was out among the wonders. Their gasp floated back to her just as Fountain Geyser shot steam and spray dozens of feet into the cloudy sky.
Will swung down from the saddle. “N
o campers, as far as I know. This fire was most likely arson, set by a vengeful poacher.” He tied his horse to the hitching post. “I wouldn’t worry. The flames shouldn’t head in this direction.”
“You’re right about the direction,” Kate said, watching Private Smith make a wide berth around the paint pots. “But you may be wrong about why it was started. Superintendent Wear seemed to think the fires earlier this summer were set by men out to damage his reputation. There’s another reason why a poacher would set such a fire.”
Will eyed her. “Oh?”
Kate nodded toward the north. “Think of the location—southwest of Mammoth Hot Springs this time. The northeast corner of the park earlier. In both cases, the prevailing winds would push the flames to the northeast, right out of the park. And the animals will flee before it.”
He reared back, brows shooting up like a geyser. “Someone’s trying to drive the animals beyond the park boundary.”
“Where hunters can ply their trade all they like,” Kate confirmed. “I never could get Superintendent Wear to listen.”
“I’m listening,” he promised, settling on his feet. “I’ll telephone Mammoth Hot Springs as soon as we finish the morning patrol. A shame I didn’t talk to you sooner.”
Kate wagged a finger at him. “Well, then, learn your lesson, Lieutenant. You should always discuss your orders with me first.”
He snapped a salute. “Yes, General Tremaine.”
She could get used to that smile. “I shouldn’t keep you from your appointed rounds.”
He nodded toward Private Smith, who was coming around the back of the Celestine Pool, the brown of his mount reflected in the blue waters. “We have it in hand. It’s quiet this morning. Are you low on visitors at the moment?”
“I’m expecting a party of six for the night.”
“And you’ve had no further trouble like you had with Sir Winston?”
She smiled, remembering. “None. Your patrols are very effective. Must be something about a man in uniform.”
He snorted. “Just don’t tell them we have little legal recourse. I know there were constables in the park for a time, before the laws of Wyoming no longer held sway. The best we can do is seize their belongings and escort them to the park boundary.”
Kate sighed. “That may work for the sightseers, but the poachers will just re-equip and return.”
He shrugged. “Our hands are tied unless Congress acts.” He nodded beyond the geyser field, where Private Smith was just approaching Jelly Geyser. “What’s to the southwest of us, the area you marked as off-limits on the map? Perhaps we ought to patrol there too, make sure no one is setting fires.”
She wasn’t ready to show him what lay in that direction. Treasure, Toby had called it with shining eyes. Danny called it their special spot. As far as she knew, none of her guests and no poacher had discovered it yet, and she intended to keep it that way for as long as possible.
“We have bigger fish to fry,” she told him. “Do you know your way around the vicinity of the Fire Hole Hotel yet?”
His mouth quirked. “I’m sorry to say the manager there has been far less helpful than another innkeeper I could mention.”
She should not feel so pleased about that. “A shame. But I’ve been in this park longer than he has, and I can show you what to watch for.”
“I hadn’t planned on studying the terrain now, and I can’t repay you with work,” he warned. “Until my other men return, I won’t have time off to help around the inn.”
“Disappointing, but understandable,” Kate allowed. “Still, when you finish at the geyser field, we should take a little ride north.”
He inclined his head. “Happy to oblige, ma’am. May I saddle you a horse?”
“That would be very helpful, Soldier. My sidesaddle should be hanging over the first stall.”
She watched as he sauntered toward the barn. She could get used to that sight too.
She hastily directed her gaze out over the geyser field. Private Smith was circling Morning Geyser. He reached her just as Danny came running around the side of the hotel.
“Good morning, Mrs. Tremaine,” the private said, tipping his cavalry cap to Kate.
“Private Smith.” Kate put out a hand to catch her son before he darted past. “I’ll be joining you and the lieutenant on the way north.”
“Our pleasure,” he said. “Are you headed out of the park?”
“Only to the Fire Hole,” Kate assured him. “I promised Lieutenant Prescott I would show you some areas you need to consider in your patrols.”
Danny squirmed in her grip. “I finished my chores. Can I come too?”
The word no pressed against her lips. Habit. She truly had no reason to deny him this time. Surely with two cavalrymen and her on the ride, he’d be safe.
“All right,” she said. “Saddle Buttercup, and you can join us. If you’ll excuse us, Private, I need to change into my riding habit.”
A short time later, they all rode out of the yard. Danny sat as tall and proud as a cavalryman on the pony she kept for smaller guests. He’d had to shorten the stirrup strip for his legs, but it seemed to Kate that the leather was a little longer than the last time they’d gone riding. She would have to make him new trousers for winter. Would he still be able to wear them come spring?
Yet that round face was all boy. She reached out to ruffle his silky hair.
He ducked away with a protest, causing the pony to shy. “Ma!”
His ears were red, but Will and Private Smith didn’t comment.
“Captain Tremaine,” Will said with a nod to Danny. “Allow me to introduce you to Private Smith.”
The private’s busy beard parted as he smiled and saluted Danny. “Your servant, sir.”
Danny giggled. “I’m not really a captain.”
The private nodded wisely. “I thought as much. Clearly a major.”
Danny shook his head, but he was all smiles now.
“Oh,” Smith said. “Major General. My mistake, sir. It won’t happen again.”
“Keep protesting,” Will said to Danny, “and you might find yourself president.” He turned to Kate. “I yield to you, ma’am. Guide us where you wish.”
For a moment, held in his gaze, she nearly forgot where she had intended to take them. She shook herself and turned her horse north.
When she’d first come to Yellowstone, the road toward the Norris Geyser Basin and Mammoth Hot Springs had been little more than a rutted trail through the pines and across the basin floor, stumps still evident. Now it was in good shape, thanks to the work of the Corps of Engineers. Lieutenant Kingman and his road crews had mounded the dirt so that water ran off both sides. They’d also added drainage ditches along the edges to carry the runoff away from the road. It was wide enough that stagecoaches could pass each other if needed.
The road wound through a wide prairie where white soil showed through sparse grass. A hawk circled overhead, then dove for prey. Antelope bounded away at their approach.
“Good spot for game,” Will observed.
“That’s why I suggested you check it once in a while,” Kate said. She nodded to the cream-colored cloth flapping against the bark of the lone pine they were passing. “I see your Captain Harris has been busy.”
One corner of his mouth tilted up. “My men were told to post those hunting warnings at regular intervals along the road and at major attractions. We ran out before we reached the Geyser Gateway, but I figured you had that covered.”
She smiled. “I do my best.” Glancing back, she saw that Danny was moving along, gaze darting from tree to prairie to Private Smith riding beside him. He met her look and waved, then hastily clutched his reins again.
“Are there other children in the park?” Will asked as if he had noticed the direction of her smile.
“Elijah sometimes brings his son, Markus,” Kate replied as they reached the pine forest on the other side of the prairie. “They live outside the park, near the Cinnabar Rail S
tation. Mammoth Hot Springs has a few children. We have a teacher and school there during the winter months. I send Danny when I can.”
His gaze was out over the road ahead. “Must get lonely for him.”
She glanced back again. Danny was chatting with Private Smith, asking him about his horse, his gun, how many outlaws he’d tracked down, all in the course of the moments she watched. The private began to look as if he faced a firing squad.
She turned to the front. “I don’t think Danny knows how to be lonely. He’s like his father that way. He never met a person who wasn’t his friend within the first few minutes.”
“Nice way to live,” he said, and she thought he sounded envious.
Ahead, the pines opened up again to a meadow on either side of the road, leading to the Little Firehole River. To the left, a dirt track ran toward the hotel. The two-story block squatted among scattered pines, windows staring at the road as if awaiting the next guests.
“Including the two cabins,” Kate said, “the Fire Hole can house two dozen guests, give or take. You’ll need to keep an eye on them. The Hendersons run the place now, but before they arrived, George Marshall wasn’t too serious about enforcing the rules where hunting and alcohol were concerned. This way.”
She moved out in front of Will, then turned away from the ford of the stream and followed the sparkling waters into the meadows beyond. Pines ringed the space, perfuming the area with their clean scent. The air held the hint of fall, sharp, crisp. Not long now.
Will drew level with her again. “What brings tourists out this way?” he asked.
“Some for the fish,” she acknowledged. “That stream carries brown trout. Others come to remember. Your General Howard chased Chief Joseph and the Nez Perce up this way in 1877.”
“Troop M was ordered to remain at Fort Colville.” His gaze continued up the creek as if he could spy the column of Indians seeking freedom. “Or we might have been part of the campaign.”
He didn’t sound sad to have missed the opportunity to harass the tribe. She appreciated that. “They came within a mile of the Geyser Gateway, according to Mr. Carter, the original owner.”