“I thought you was on patrol with Lieutenant Wallace,” Alton Broom called out when Jordan passed the post trader’s store. Standing on the step outside the store, he bent down to shake the ashes from his pipe, tapping it against the wall, then stood up again, awaiting Jordan’s reply.
“I was,” Jordan returned.
“Well, what in the world are you doin’ back here?” Alton asked impatiently. He peered around Jordan to see if the patrol might be following behind. “Grant said you was to be gone for five days.”
“I was fired,” Jordan answered, offering nothing more in the way of embellishment. “I came back to get my things.”
“Well, I’ll be go to hell,” Alton uttered, finding it hard to believe. He agreed with Sergeant Grant’s impression that Wallace couldn’t get a better scout. “It ain’t none of my business, but how’d you ever get crossways with Wallace?”
“It ain’t hard to do,” Jordan replied, but declined to go into detail about his altercation with the pompous young officer. Alton was still curious, but didn’t push it when it was obvious that Jordan was not going to discuss it. “Which is the doctor’s house?” Jordan asked, changing the subject abruptly.
“Captain Beard?” Alton responded. “The post surgeon’s house is the first one just past the bachelors’ quarters. Are you ailin’?” he asked, thinking that might have something to do with Jordan’s early return to Laramie.
“No, I’m all right. He patched me up once for a gunshot wound in Fort Gibson. I just thought I might wanna let him take a look.” It was a lie. His wounds had healed long ago, even though he still carried a slug deep in the muscles of his shoulder. It wasn’t the doctor that he wanted to see.
“I expect you’ll most likely find him at the hospital this time of day,” Alton said.
“Much obliged,” Jordan said, nudging Sweet Pea with his heels, ending the discussion, and leaving Alton to scratch his head, his curiosity frustrated. Jordan hadn’t really wanted to see Captain Beard at all. In fact he hoped he wouldn’t be home.
He slow-walked Sweet Pea past the bachelor officers’ quarters, still making up his mind whether or not to present himself to the captain’s daughter. She had specifically asked him to call on her when he returned from the patrol, but now he was wondering if she had really meant it. Why in hell would she want to see me? Maybe she was just being polite to a former patient. Why in hell would I want to see her? He had to stop and think about that. He was in no position to call on a young lady.
He suddenly found himself in front of the doctor’s house. He pulled Sweet Pea to a stop before the porch and sat there trying to decide to dismount or wheel about and head for the stables. Don’t be a damn fool, he told himself and turned away. He was about to give Sweet Pea a hard heel when he heard her voice behind him.
“Jordan?” Kathleen called from the doorway. Startled, Jordan pulled back on the reins. “Were you coming to see me?” She walked out on the porch. “You looked like you were about to ride off. I declare, it seems every time I see you, you’re running off somewhere.”
“No . . . I mean, yes, I thought I might stop by to see you,” he stammered, feeling a warm glow creeping up the back of his neck.
“Then why were you going to ride away?” When it was obvious that the young man was too flustered to answer, she asked, “Is the patrol back? Thomas said he would be out for five days.”
“I expect they’ll be a couple of days longer.” That did not answer her question, and he could see that she was waiting for a full explanation. “I just came back alone.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, a puzzled look upon her face. “Are you all right?” He assured her that he was. “Come on inside,” she directed. “It’s too chilly to talk out here.”
He tied Sweet Pea’s reins to the corner porch post and followed her inside. As soon as he crossed the threshold, he felt out of place. Kathleen had done an elegant job of making a comfortable home for her father and herself. The living room was furnished with delicate pieces, no doubt shipped from New Orleans or St. Louis, with braided carpets on the polished wood floor. Jordan cast a nervous eye about him at the dainty crocheted doilies gracing the chair backs and the sofa. He had not seen such elegance since he was a young hired hand on his father-in-law’s farm. And, just as he had felt he did not belong then, such was his feeling on this day, when memories of his late wife came back to him. He suddenly found himself fighting panic. Sensing it, Kathleen suggested they go to the kitchen and sit at the table.
“I was just thinking about making a cup of tea,” she said, her smile radiating warmth that served to dispel his discomfort. “Would you like a cup?”
“Why, I reckon,” he stuttered. He would have preferred a cup of coffee. He could not recall if he had ever had a cup of tea. In his present state of nervousness, he would have gratefully accepted anything she offered.
He sat at the table, watching her every move as she placed a kettle of water on the stove to boil. Reaching into a cupboard, she took a china teapot down from the shelf and placed it upon the table along with two cups and saucers. Jordan’s feeling of panic began anew as she reached for a tin of ground tea. He was suddenly aware of his rough buckskin shirt and trousers, and he fixed his gaze upon the delicate china cup before him. What if he was clumsy and broke it? Sensing his insecurity, she sat down opposite him while waiting for the water to boil.
“Now tell me about your disagreement with Thomas,” she said, still smiling. He had not suggested that there had been one, but she could easily guess that there had. She knew that the lieutenant could be hard to get along with for a wild spirit like Jordan Gray. And their meeting the other night had left little doubt that the two young men had developed an immediate dislike for each other. She was also fairly confident that she could be the main reason for their conflict. It did not give her any satisfaction, for she truly held each in high regard. In fact, she had spent a great deal of time with Lieutenant Thomas Jefferson Wallace lately, and she was certain that a proposal of marriage would soon be forthcoming. It was a matter that she had given considerable thought of late. She was not getting any younger, and Thomas seemed destined for success in the military. She had spent her life in military garrisons as the daughter of the post surgeon, so it was a lifestyle she was comfortable with.
Gazing at Jordan now, as his eyes nervously scanned his surroundings, she could not help but be reminded of a hawk trapped in a cage. There was something about this wild hawk that touched a special place deep in her heart, a fascination that drew her to him. She wished it were not so. It would make things a great deal simpler for her, for she feared she was going to be called upon to choose. And, really, there was but one sensible choice for a girl in her situation. She knew what life as Thomas Wallace’s wife would be like. Who could say what life with Jordan Gray would be like? She wondered if he ever even thought about the future. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden whistling of the kettle.
She got up from the table and poured the boiling water into the teapot. “We’ll let it steep for a bit,” she said cheerfully. “Now you were going to tell me what happened between you and Thomas that sent you back here early.”
Reluctantly, he related the disagreement between himself and the lieutenant with no embellishment of the details. “We just don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, I guess,” he summed it up. “They didn’t really need me as a scout, anyway.”
“Thomas can be difficult to understand at times,” she conceded, “but he’s really a good and kind man at heart.” She found it important to defend the lieutenant, although Jordan’s facial expression indicated that he was not convinced. She studied the somber young man seated at her table, looking so desperately out of place, and she again felt a sense of awe and the fascination of being close to an untamed creature. He did not possess the finely chiseled features of her handsome lieutenant, yet there was admittedly a rugged beauty in the tawny-haired, broad-shouldered young scout reminiscent of the lethal beauty of a mountain lion. Fearful, lest her thoughts lead her in a foolish direction, she abruptly got up to pour the tea.
There was a protracted period of silence while the two young people sipped the hot liquid. Jordan, still afraid he might drop the delicate cup, squeezed the fragile handle between thumb and forefinger. The handle was not large enough to loop his finger through. In his mind, he pictured the prim and proper Lieutenant Wallace in his place. He was sure the lieutenant was probably right at home sipping tea from delicate china. The picture served to irritate him, and he decided he might as well find out how things stood between Kathleen and Wallace. Never having been accused of being subtle, he blurted out, “Are you and the lieutenant seein’ each other serious-like?”
Damn you, she thought, for she had hoped to avoid the subject. She would have preferred not to admit her relationship with Thomas. She held no desire to deceive Jordan. It was just that she had been telling herself that she had not made that decision when, in fact, she actually had. Now, after his blunt question, she was forced to tell him the truth, even though reluctant to. “I guess you might say that,” she admitted. “Thomas has been calling on me since we came here.”
His expression did not change, but the disappointment was apparent in his eyes as he absorbed her answer. Only a fool would have thought otherwise, he thought. Fashioning a faint smile for her, he said, “Well, I reckon you could do a lot worse for yourself.”
Damn you, Jordan Gray. Why don’t you do something about it if you want me? She immediately scolded herself for thinking such thoughts, for she knew that if he had suddenly taken her in his arms, she would not have resisted. And she would have never forgiven herself for allowing it. She had to listen to her practical sense. There was a future with Thomas. What could she expect with Jordan? A cave in the mountains? At best, a tent on an army post while he was employed as a scout? She could not commit to a life like that. “Father says that Thomas has a great future with the army,” she commented lamely. “West Point graduates have the best opportunity for advancement.”
He nodded solemnly, as if deeply considering her remark. “Well, you know I wish you the very best,” he finally said. He placed the china cup carefully on the saucer. “I expect I’d better go. I’ve got to get ready to travel.” With that, he stood up and placed his chair back under the table.
Feeling his disappointment, as well as a stabbing hollow feeling in her own heart, she rose to accompany him to the door. Wanting to tell him something to ease his hurt, she placed a hand on his arm and said, “You know, you’ll always have a special place in my heart.” As soon as the words came out, she knew she should not have said them, for the hurt deepened in his eyes. He paused at the door to look directly into her eyes, and for a moment, she was sure he was going to speak, but he didn’t, leaving his thoughts unsaid. “Where will you go?” Kathleen couldn’t help but ask.
“I don’t know—the Black Hills maybe.” He flashed her a smile then. “Maybe I’ll find some of that gold everybody’s talkin’ about.” He had really given no thought as to what he was going to do. The Black Hills just happened to pop into his mind at that moment. Now, when he thought about it, he decided, Why not? But right now, I think I could use a drink.
* * *
There were two horses tied to the rail in front of the post trader’s store when Jordan walked up, leading Sweet Pea. One was saddled, the other loaded with packs. Out of consideration for their welfare, Jordan tied Sweet Pea to the porch corner post, well away from the other two. Inside, he encountered the man he had met several days before talking to Alton Broom. Both men turned to greet him.
“Come to get that drink I owe you?” Ned Booth asked with a welcoming grin.
Jordan, his mind heavy with self-disgust for having had thoughts of approaching Kathleen Beard, tried to grin in return. “I could use a drink, even that poison Alton sells.” He paused, then said, “Matter of fact, I’d prefer that poison.”
With a wink for Booth, Alton went to the bar to fetch a bottle and glass. “What’s the occasion, Jordan? I don’t recollect you ever buyin’ a drink of liquor. Are you celebratin’ somethin’?”
Jordan couldn’t help but respond with a bitter laugh. Yeah, he thought, I’m celebrating being a damn fool. “I’m celebratin’ leavin’ this place, I reckon.”
“Hell, you just got here,” Alton remarked. “You leavin’ already? Where you headed this time?”
Jordan shook his head thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I’m just goin’.” He tossed the drink down, grimacing from the fiery trail it left in his throat. “Damn, that stuff’s awful. Gimme another.” He turned to Ned Booth. “Now I’ll buy you one.”
“Thanks just the same,” Booth replied, “but I’m all caught up on my drinkin’.”
Jordan tossed the second drink down, squinting his eyes almost closed until the fire subsided. “I reckon I’ve caught up with mine, too,” he announced when Alton held the bottle poised over the empty shot glass. “I don’t guess I need a snootful of that stuff.”
Booth, who had been studying the young man closely, spoke up then. “Why don’t you come with me? I’m headin’ out for the Black Hills. I could use a partner. It ain’t all that healthy, a man alone in that country. We might even strike it rich, and if we don’t, why, hell, what have we lost?”
Jordan had to consider the prospect for no more than a moment. “I’ve never been to the Black Hills, but I’ve heard plenty about the place, some good, some bad. I reckon it’s time I see for myself.”
Booth’s face lit up with a wide smile. “Well, I can show you around ’cause I’ve spent a fair amount of time in that country. ’Course, I ain’t been back since the hills got overrun with prospectors, so I reckon we’ll both have somethin’ to see.” He extended his hand. “So it’s a deal then?”
“I reckon,” Jordan replied and shook his new partner’s hand.
“Then let’s get the hell outta here!” Booth exclaimed with a grin. “We’re burnin’ daylight standin’ here jawin’ with the likes of Alton Broom.”
In less than an hour’s time, Jordan cut his packhorse out of the cavalry corral, packed his belongings, and was ready to ride. Ned Booth watched his new partner’s movements as Jordan readied himself for the trail. He decided right away that he approved of Jordan’s cross-strapping of his packhorse’s load, balancing the packs to make it easier on the animal. He settled his concentration upon Jordan’s saddle horse then. He could not recall having seen a more homely beast. Curious as to why a man chose to ride a horse that looked more like a shaggy mule, he studied Sweet Pea closely, taking note of the animal’s broad chest and full body, and the constant flickering of the ears, first this way, then another, indicating the horse was alert to everything around it. “That’s a pretty stout horse you’re ridin’,” he decided.
Jordan was surprised by the comment. Sweet Pea was never paid a complimentary remark by someone just introduced to her. He decided that Ned had a pretty good eye for horses. “Yep, she’ll usually get the job done, but her disposition needs some work. Take care not to let your horses stand too close to her, especially her left side. She’ll take a nip outta anything that crowds her.”
With Jordan’s possessions packed on his horses, the two new partners set out for Ned’s camp by the river. After some discussion, they decided to wait until morning to start. “Startin’ out on a new adventure is always best first thing of a mornin’,” Ned opined. “Besides, that’ll put us at the Niobrara River about dark, and that’s a good spot to make camp.”
Alton Broom stood on the step of the post trader’s store, watching until they were out of sight. “I swear, if I didn’t have a wife and young’uns to worry about, I’d go with ’em,” he muttered to himself.