by Regina Scott
He was leading his saddled horse out into the yard. “I would defend the honor of the Geyser Gateway with my last breath, ma’am,” he assured her. “Are we under attack?”
“Not if we manage this dinner,” Alberta said.
He glanced from her to Kate. “Dinner?”
“I invited Lieutenant Kingman of the Corps of Engineers and his staff to dine,” Kate explained, hand falling. “It must be the finest evening we can manage.”
“It will be the making of the Geyser Gateway,” Alberta predicted. “You’ll come too, Lieutenant. You and your men, especially that Private Smith. He reminds me of my Tommy, so confident, so full of himself.”
His gaze returned to Kate’s, waiting. He was willing to accept whatever she offered, however small. And here she’d teased him about trifling with her affections. Will Prescott might look rough and tough with his dark gaze and his stoic face, but, she was certain, inside he was made of softer stuff. He wanted her good opinion as much as she wanted his. Perhaps even more.
She could still refuse, claim there wouldn’t be enough room, enough food. But she found she liked the idea of him at her side as much as he seemed to like it.
Oh, but she was in trouble.
So, she’d invited him to dinner. Will glanced to the left at the waving grass of the meadow and the right at the wooded hill as he rode Bess back to camp, but he couldn’t seem to focus on either. His thoughts veered back to that kiss. Kate had made light of it, put it down to the moment, the beauty of the falls. But the wonders of Yellowstone were nothing compared to the wonder that was Kate—strong, bright, determined, lovely.
Giving in to the moment was just an excuse. It wasn’t the moment that had drawn him to her. He admired how she managed her hotel, how she dealt with difficulties, how she was raising Danny.
He admired Captain Harris too, and he certainly didn’t think about kissing the man!
The mere thought of kissing Kate again set him to grinning.
“I probably look like a fool,” he told Bess, and the mare bobbed her head as if agreeing.
Well, why shouldn’t he take the kiss seriously? Kisses between an officer of the United States Cavalry and a respectable lady meant something. That kiss implied he was intent in his pursuit of Kate. That he was courting her with the idea of marriage.
That he thought himself worthy of being her husband.
And he didn’t.
He clucked to Bess, who broke into a canter until they reached camp.
But camp was considerably more crowded than when he’d left. Franklin and Smith had returned from the first patrol, and Lercher, Waxworth, and O’Reilly had rejoined them at last. Good. Determining their next steps ought to take his mind off Kate.
Maybe.
His five privates were sitting around the fire, trading stories. All but Smith jumped to attention as he rode in.
“Fire up north contained, sir,” Waxworth reported. He ducked his head before hurrying forward to take charge of Bess, as if he had never left.
“Captain Harris told us ve should report back to you,” Lercher added as Will dismounted.
O’Reilly spit toward the edge of the fire circle. “And he was asking about the Geyser Gateway, sir. It seems rumor has it the place isn’t fit for man nor beast.”
They all looked to him. Waxworth’s brows were up as if waiting for Will to deny it. Smith’s half-smile told his comrades he knew more about it than they did.
“Nothing has changed about the Geyser Gateway while you were gone,” Will told them. “You’ll have a chance to see for yourselves soon enough. Mrs. Tremaine is hosting a dinner for Lieutenant Kingman and his staff, and we’re all invited to attend.”
Most of his men brightened. As if satisfied, Waxworth headed for the picket line with Bess.
Smith gave Will a look. “All of us?”
Will still wasn’t sure what the cavalryman wanted, but there’d be limited opportunity for him to make trouble at the dinner, not with Will at his side.
“All of us, Private,” he said. “This Friday evening, if plans hold true.” He glanced around at the rest of his men. “You might start brushing off those dress uniforms. I understand this is to be a fancy affair.”
Lercher thrust out his broad chest. “Ve vill do honor to the troop and the Geyser Gateway, sir.”
“Count on us, Lieutenant,” Franklin agreed. “We’ll show those engineers to respect the cavalry.”
O’Reilly spit again.
As if he’d noticed, Waxworth scowled at the Irishman from the picket line. “None of that, now,” he called. “We’re gentlemen. We need to act the part.”
“Act being the correct word,” Smith drawled. He rose at last. “Do any of you know how to behave at a fancy dinner? Can you tell a water glass from a wine glass?”
Franklin stared at him. “They have two glasses?”
“Three if you count the cup for tea,” Smith informed him. “Just be glad there won’t be any difficult foods to eat. I doubt even the incomparable Alberta could find oysters on the half shell out here.”
Lercher was white. “They have them at the big hotel at Mammoth Hot Springs. Brought them in by rail, then freighted them into the park. Ve heard the staff sergeant speaking of it.”
Franklin gulped.
Will glanced around at his men. Waxworth was clinging to Bess’s bridle as if ready to mount and ride as far and fast as he could. Lercher shifted on his feet as if he would join him. Franklin was chewing his lip, and O’Reilly had his gaze on the ground. Only Smith seemed relaxed, looking at them and shaking his head.
“I suppose you know how to eat oysters,” Waxworth challenged him.
Smith offered him a little bow. “I spent some time on a Mississippi riverboat traveling from New Orleans. I know the difference between vichyssoise and bouillabaisse too.”
“Vichy what?” O’Reilly asked, gaze coming up wide in obvious panic.
“New order of the day,” Will announced, and everyone but Smith snapped to attention. “Two by two patrol, two hours on, two hours off. When not on patrol, report to Private Smith.”
The others stared at Smith.
Smith frowned, gaze on Will. “Why?”
“Because,” Will said, meeting his gaze, “you’ll be teaching us how to behave like gentlemen. The reputation of the regiment and the Geyser Gateway is at stake. No man under my command is going to be ridiculed for not knowing how to eat oysters.”
16
Any hopes they might delay the upcoming dinner were dashed when a Bassett Brothers stage driver brought back word on Thursday that Lieutenant Kingman and some of his men would be joining Kate for dinner the next day. While Will and his men continued their patrols, Kate and Alberta doubled their efforts to impress. Pansy moved from one task to another in a daze.
“It’s not as if Lieutenant Kingman is a guest,” she protested as she swept out the dining room. “I know he and his men are staying the night, but this isn’t the first time.”
Alberta brought out a mop and oil for the floor. “No, indeed. He’s been a good friend to the Geyser Gateway, and to Mr. and Mrs. Tremaine.”
Kate smiled as she accepted the mop from her. “Remember when he and Toby got into that argument as to what made a good road? Toby wanted the most scenic route. Lieutenant Kingman advocated the most practical.”
Alberta nodded, mouth turning up.
“Still,” Pansy said, “he’s just a first lieutenant. It isn’t as if the president is visiting!”
“He’s as important as the president,” Kate assured her as Alberta poured some oil onto the floor. “He can recommend we get a ten-year lease.”
Pansy gripped her broom and swept harder.
Alberta was even more vigilant in making sure everything was perfect. With no time to order supplies from outside the park, she sent Caleb to stop the meat wagon as it headed for the tent hotel at Old Faithful. The shy man-of-all-work returned triumphant with a dozen beef steaks. Alberta planned to serve t
hem with mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans with bacon, and apple preserves, with pumpkin pie for dessert.
Kate juggled preparations with seeing to her other guests. Though most came and went as usual, two pitched in to assist, despite her protests.
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Pettijohn said when Kate suggested she spend her time on Yellowstone’s wonders instead of ironing the tablecloths. “It is our Christian duty to help those in need.”
“Of course,” her sister agreed, stitching up the hem on one of the tablecloths. “And it is ever-so-nice to feel a part of something important.”
“Now, now,” Mrs. Pettijohn said, iron moving briskly. “You were a great comfort to Mother and Father until they passed.”
Miss Pringle held up the hem as if to inspect her work. “But you and Mr. Pettijohn were much more influential.” She looked to Kate. “They were abolitionists.”
Mrs. Pettijohn’s heavy face turned pink, as if she was embarrassed by her sister’s admiration. “We simply did what was right, as are you, Mrs. Tremaine.”
Kate would never have compared her efforts to protect Yellowstone with ending slavery, but she thanked the ladies for their praise and their help.
Mr. Jones had no interest in helping. Each morning, he asked about any animal sightings, then declared his intent to fish. But he never brought back any trout, even though the Firehole was brimming.
“He isn’t very good at the sport,” Miss Pringle confided to Kate as they dusted the salon.
“He is likely exceptional,” her sister argued. “He may be one of those who catches fish for the challenge of it and promptly releases them again.”
Miss Pringle’s feather duster paused as she frowned. “But how would he know which he’d caught previously?”
“Maybe he recognizes them,” Danny suggested as he brought in a load of wood and dropped it into the brass stand by the hearth. “I bet each fish is different, like people.”
Danny was everywhere. He ran from one chore to another. He had generally been in bed when Toby and Lieutenant Kingman had talked, but he remembered the tall engineer. And he was filled with questions. How many were coming? Had any of them fought in battles? Did they have any children? Did they know how to play baseball? Could he have long pants to attend?
Only the last could Kate answer with any certainty.
“Your short pants will be fine for you to visit while we wait for dinner,” she told her son, “but you will eat in the kitchen with Alberta and Pansy, as usual.”
Danny, who had been assisting Pansy in polishing the dining chairs, stopped to look at her, rag in one hand. “Why?”
Enough of her guests had grumbled about the children of the families who visited that she knew not everyone appreciated dining with a child.
“We may have to discuss serious matters during the meal,” Kate said. “When you’re older, you’ll understand.”
Danny made a face, but Pansy called for his help just then, and he returned to his work.
But his question about long pants made her think. Her son might be fine with his usual short pants and a clean shirt, but what should she wear to dinner? She intended the hotel to impress. Shouldn’t its owner look impressive as well? Likely the officers and their men would come in dress uniform.
She hadn’t sewn anything new for herself since she’d arrived in the park four years ago, except for her riding skirt, and that would hardly do. She did have one dress she used to wear to church in Boston. It hadn’t seen much use in Yellowstone. Lace and ribbon didn’t fare well in sulfur fumes and mineral-laden water. Would it still fit?
Pansy helped her try it on that evening after everyone else was in bed. The long blue bodice with the cream lace insert hugged her curves. And the bustle! Kate turned to glance behind her. She’d never be able to wear one of those for any other occasion. But just once, she’d look like a Boston belle.
Three guests remained Friday evening: Mr. Jones, Miss Pringle, and Mrs. Pettijohn. Of course, she invited them to dinner as well. The two older ladies agreed with pleased smiles. Mr. Jones declined.
“I’m the solitary sort,” he said, as if she could have thought otherwise. “I’ll just take a tray in my room.”
Those arrangements settled, Kate asked Pansy to help her dress for the evening and made sure she was in the front room when her guests began arriving.
Lieutenant Kingman and his men were first. His short-cropped light-brown hair looked much as she’d remembered, and his eyes still dipped down at the corners. She had never been certain whether the stiff set of his beard was because he held strong opinions or merely because of the shape of his chin.
“Welcome, gentlemen,” Kate greeted them as they came in the door in their dress uniforms. Unlike the uniforms of the cavalrymen, the stripe down their trousers, the facings, and the collars of their coats were a vibrant red.
“Kate Tremaine,” Lieutenant Kingman said, going on to introduce the sergeant and two corporals who had been sent to work with him that season. Pansy hurried to take their coats and kits back to their rooms.
Kate introduced her lady guests. Mrs. Pettijohn was in black taffeta, the high neck of the gown pressing against her double chin. Miss Pringle was in lavender, and she’d crimped her snowy curls into ringlets beside her round face. Both simpered over the engineers.
Danny scuttled to Kate’s side, hair slicked back and collar crisp. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Alberta said I had to wash again.”
“You’re just in time,” Kate assured him, pride combining with affection. “You remember Lieutenant Kingman over there with our lady guests. Do you feel comfortable shaking his hand?”
Danny rolled his eyes. “Ma-a.” He moved to join the engineers and the ladies.
Voices outside announced the arrival of Will and his men. Kate’s throat felt dry as they climbed the steps to the door, and she smoothed her blue skirts over her hips.
Will walked through the door, muscular physique outlined in a navy coat faced in golden yellow. He whipped the yellow-plumed helmet off his head and bowed.
“Mrs. Tremaine.”
That voice had never sounded more dear. “Lieutenant Prescott,” she acknowledged as he straightened. “Privates. You are all welcome.”
His men shuffled behind him, gazes darting around the room as if they expected to find it inhabited by hostiles. They wore dress coats too, brass buttons winking in the lamplight. Private Waxworth’s hair looked nearly as wet and slick as Danny’s, and Private Lercher’s solid chin bore a cut where he must have nicked himself shaving. But the greatest change was in Private Smith. Gone was the thick beard, to be replaced by a pointed goatee and trim mustache. His dark eyes glittered as he came forward and bowed over Kate’s hand.
“Mrs. Tremaine, a vision.” He stepped aside and eyed his comrades.
Private Waxworth reacted first, moving forward to bend his lanky frame in a bow. “Thank you for inviting us, Mrs. Tremaine.”
O’Reilly elbowed him aside, took her hand, and pressed it between his own. “Sure’n you’re prettier than the heather on the hillside.”
Smith cleared his throat, and the Irishman released her, grabbed Waxworth’s arm, and pulled him away.
Franklin took his place, spine stiff and gaze off her left shoulder. “Mrs. Tremaine, thank you for the opportunity to meet with the engineers.” He snapped a nod as if satisfied by his performance and went to stand by O’Reilly and Waxworth.
Lercher ambled up to her, blue eyes wide. He clicked his boot heels together before bending to meet Kate’s gaze.
“I have never attended so fine an affair,” he assured her. “I vill do your hotel honor.”
“I’m sure you will,” Kate said, and he straightened to join the others.
With a nod to her, Smith followed him.
Kate gazed after them. “What’s gotten into your men?”
“Respect for your hospitality,” Will promised, offering her his arm. “And awe for their gracious hostess.”
Kat
e accepted his arm, feeling as if bubbles from a geyser rose inside her. “Come, allow me to introduce you all.”
As she accompanied them toward the group by the hearth, she noticed through the arch to the dining room that Alberta was pouring lemonade. She too wore her best dress, a navy taffeta with a high neck and flounces around the hem. The dark color made her white apron glow. Seeing she had Kate’s attention, she held up one hand, fingers splayed. Right. Dinner in five minutes.
“Guess what, Lieutenant Prescott,” Danny said as soon as the introductions had been made. “Lieutenant Kingman knows how to play baseball.”
“Played at the Academy,” Kingman said with a smile. “Just for fun.”
“We played at Fort Walla Walla on off hours,” Will said. He put his hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Danny here has quite an arm.”
Danny beamed, and Kate couldn’t help smiling with him.
“But we haven’t been able to do more than go over the rules, hit a few balls, and toss the ball back and forth,” Will continued. “Not enough players.”
Kingman glanced around, as if counting heads. “Even if we were to join you in a game, we’re still a few men short of two teams.”
“A few men,” Mrs. Pettijohn said, eyes narrowing, “but surely not a few women.”
Now, there was an idea. How would the Army fellows react to ladies playing? Lercher and Waxworth exchanged glances as if wondering the same.
Lieutenant Kingman evidently found the thought amusing, for he smiled at Mrs. Pettijohn. “Very kind of you to offer, madam, but it can be a strenuous game with lots of running.”
Miss Pringle blinked her eyes. “Why, Elmira, I do believe this young man just called us old.”
Lieutenant Kingman colored.
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Pettijohn averred. “He’s just afraid we’ll show him up in front of his men.”
Lieutenant Kingman opened his mouth and wisely shut it again. Kate hid a smile.
“It’s very considerate of you not to shame us, Mrs. Pettijohn,” Will said solemnly. “It’s hard enough trying to lead men of such talent and intelligence.”