It was well after dark by the time the rescue column filed into Fort Laramie, but a small crowd of soldiers soon gathered to welcome the lieutenant back. News of the return of the rescue column spread rapidly throughout the post, and the crowd swelled in number. Apart from the gathering, at the edge of the parade ground, Jordan sat on his horse, watching the hero’s homecoming with the two Crow scouts. He felt apart from the celebration, an outsider, much like the Indians beside him.
After politely refusing an invitation from Iron Pony to camp with the Crow scouts, Jordan turned Sweet Pea toward the stables. He preferred the solitude of the tack room in the rear of the stables if the space was still available. Sergeant Hamilton Grant had arranged for the room when Jordan first signed on as a scout, and Jordan had left a few incidental belongings there. There was also a distinct aversion to a chance meeting with Kathleen, and he suspected it would only be moments before she arrived to welcome her husband home.
Jordan was challenged by the sentry walking the guard post by the stables, and it took a few minutes to convince the young soldier that he had permission to enter. Finally, the skeptical young man accepted Jordan’s word that it was all right for him to bed down there. It helped to point out that he was leaving a horse, not taking one.
With the guard back walking his post again, Jordan led Sweet Pea through the stable to the corral. Before turning the mare in with the other horses, he unsaddled her and helped himself to a generous portion of the army’s oats. He figured the mangy-looking horse had done a hell of a job in hauling one of their officers safely home and deserved a good supper. When Sweet Pea had finished eating, he turned her loose in the corral and watched for a moment while she walked casually over toward the far fence. A group of army mounts gathered there no doubt remembered the ornery mare, for they immediately dispersed, seeking space elsewhere. Jordan couldn’t help but smile.
* * *
Exhausted, Jordan slept soundly, not even aware of the changing of the guards during the night. He was finally awakened by the sound of the bugler blowing reveille at five thirty. A half hour later, when the bugle sounded stable and watering call, he was standing in front of the stables, ready for breakfast. As he stood watching the men as they arrived to take care of their horses, he saw a familiar figure approaching.
“I thought I’d find you here,” Hamilton Grant called out cheerfully. The big first sergeant extended his hand, and Jordan shook it, grinning back at his friend. “Come on, and we’ll go get somethin’ to eat.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” Jordan said, and the two men started toward the enlisted men’s mess.
The cooks weren’t quite ready, since it was still almost an hour before mess call, so Grant and Jordan sat down and had coffee while they waited. “God, that’s good,” Jordan proclaimed, upon sipping the hot coffee. “It’s been a spell.” It had been a long time since he had anything but water to drink.
“I heard Lieutenant Wallace’s account of his capture and escape last night. I was wonderin’ if you had any details to add.”
Jordan shrugged indifferently. “Not much to tell—Wallace was in pretty bad shape. Iron Pony scattered the Sioux pony herd, and when the Indians went after ’em, it gave me a chance to get Wallace out. That’s about it.”
“The lieutenant said the two of you had to fight your way outta the Sioux camp.”
“He did?” Jordan asked, surprised. “We weren’t in much of a position to fight.” He went on to explain that their escape was only possible because of his friendship with a Lakota warrior. “Naw, we just got on my horse and ran like hell. The Indians didn’t even know which way we were runnin’ until it was too late to catch us.”
Sergeant Grant was about to express an opinion about the brash cavalry officer when they were interrupted by a clerk from the post adjutant’s office. “Excuse me, Sergeant,” the soldier said, nodding first to Jordan and then to Grant. “Captain McGarity sent me to ask Mr. Gray if he could come by the adjutant’s office after morning formation.”
Only mildly curious as to why McGarity wanted to see him, Jordan shrugged and said, “All right. Tell the captain I’d be glad to.”
When the clerk turned to leave, Grant got up from the table. “Come on,” he said to Jordan. “Let’s get us a plate. Mess call’s in about five minutes, and they’ll be runnin’ over us.” After breakfast, Grant took his leave to report for duty, and Jordan headed for the adjutant’s office.
* * *
“Come on in, Jordan,” Paul McGarity said and got up from his desk to meet him. “That was a fine piece of work you did, going into that camp and bringing Wallace out.” He motioned Jordan to a chair. “Colonel Bradley wants me to bring you by to see him.” While Jordan was wondering why the post commander wanted to see him, McGarity went on. “Captain Beard told me that Wallace is going to be fine—in good shape, in fact, for what he’s gone through. He’s keeping him in the hospital for a couple of days if you want to check on him.”
Not hardly, Jordan was thinking. He had no desire to ever see the lieutenant again. “I expect you didn’t wanna see me just to tell me that,” he said.
“No, the main reason was we need men of your caliber to scout for the army. I was hoping you’d reconsider and come back to work for us again. I know you and Wallace had a little falling out when you scouted for him before. But you must have worked it out, considering you risked your neck to rescue him.” He paused to gauge the broad-shouldered young man’s reaction. “Whaddaya say, Jordan? I might even be able to get you backpay for the time you spent bringing Wallace in.”
Jordan had to consider the proposition. He had never really given much thought toward working as a scout again, primarily because he didn’t figure the army would consider rehiring him. In fact, he wasn’t set on what he would do at this point. He could definitely use a source of income. He still had the pouch of gold dust he had happened upon with Ned, but most of that would be used to replace the outfit he had lost in Deadwood.
McGarity, impatient for an answer, continued. “There’s definitely going to be a campaign to strike that Sioux camp that ambushed Lieutenant Wallace’s patrol. They could use you, since you know where it is.”
Jordan hesitated, thinking of Red Feather and Many Horses before he answered. “I don’t reckon I’ll take part in a raid on that village. I’ve got friends there. If it hadn’t been for one of ’em, I’d have never gotten Wallace out.” He went on to explain how the rescue had been made possible by the actions of Red Feather.
McGarity registered some mild surprise upon hearing Jordan’s version of the escape. It obviously varied to a degree from Wallace’s. There was a long pause while he decided what to say to Jordan. “All right,” he finally said. “Iron Pony knows where to find them, but I want you to consider working for the army, anyway.” He rose to his feet, signaling an end to the interview. “Will you do that?” Jordan nodded. “You know, Jordan, I appreciate the fact that you have friends among the Sioux. But there’s going to be war against them and the Cheyenne, and it’s going to be soon. A man’s going to have to choose which side he’s on.”
“Yeah, I reckon,” Jordan replied. “Doesn’t leave a man much choice, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t,” McGarity agreed.
Jordan turned to take his leave, then paused. “What about Colonel Bradley? What’s he wanna see me about?”
“Never mind,” McGarity said. “He just wanted to offer you a job. I’ll tell him you’re considering it.”
* * *
After leaving McGarity, Jordan returned to the stables to look in on Sweet Pea. Upon spotting her partner at the corner of the corral, the ornery mare immediately walked over to greet him. The other horses parted to give her plenty of room, causing Jordan to smile. “Come here, you mangy-lookin’ critter,” he said when Sweet Pea nudged her muzzle against his chest. “Let’s me and you take a little ride down by the river. We’ve got a lot to think over.” He had decisions to make, and he preferred to be away from the bustle of the army post to do so.
“Why do you ride such a scary-looking horse?”
The sound of the voice caused him to freeze, his muscles tensing in his arms. “Because she’s never let me down,” he answered, turning to face her. The picture of Kathleen that he had carried in his memory paled in comparison to the smiling vision before him at that moment. He hoped that she could not hear the beating of his heart.
“Sergeant Grant told me I would probably find you here,” Kathleen said. “I wanted to thank you for bringing Thomas back to me.” He answered with nothing more than a nod of his head, unable to think of an appropriate reply. “Father said that splint you put on Thomas’s arm was the crudest he’d ever seen, but it did the job,” she added in an attempt to lighten the moment. She searched his face, wanting to say more, but knew she could not. That face, rugged and honest, would always remain in a special place in her heart, tucked safely away to forever remind her of what might have been. Already, in her young marriage, she had to admit to having had second thoughts. When those moments came, she promptly told herself that she had, indeed, made the sensible decision. Thomas presented a predictable future. She recognized the brash, even arrogant, nature of her husband, but she felt he would certainly improve upon those faults in time. And he was always of a gentle nature with her. Yes, she assured herself, she had made the wise choice. Still, whenever in the presence of this quiet mountain man, she felt a certain longing inside to know him like no other man. It was not to be, and such thoughts only made her position worse. “Were you planning to come to see me?” she asked, breaking the awkward silence.
“No . . . I mean, I guess not,” he stammered. How could he tell her that he had thought of very little else over the past weeks, until he was told that she had married? It would be wrong to express his true feelings now, so there was nothing left to say. “I guess I should say congratulations and wish you and your husband the best of luck.”
“Thank you,” she replied politely, a sad smile gracing her lips. Why, she wondered, did she have the feeling that she owed him an explanation, maybe even an apology? There had never been any commitment between them, not even of a casual nature. “Jordan . . .” she started, but could not bring herself to say what was in her heart. Instead, she said, “I wish you the best of luck, too. You’ll always be a special friend to me.”
There was no reason to linger. Still she was reluctant to walk away, knowing she would be closing a door forever. “Well,” she finally sighed, “I must be getting over to the hospital. Thank you again.” After a brief glance around to make sure they were alone, she stepped up to Jordan and quickly kissed him on the cheek. Their eyes met as she stepped away. For that one moment, time stood still, and they came together, eagerly following the passion of their hearts. Their lips met in desperate longing, releasing a hunger that was sentenced to die forever after. Locked in his powerful arms, she pressed her body against his, clinging to the moment with complete abandon.
Then she broke away. They spoke not a word. There was no need, for they both knew without speaking that it could not be. She was married. She had exchanged vows with Thomas, and she would be faithful to those vows. He saw the tears in her eyes as she took one last look at him before turning and hurrying away.
It was a long walk back to the hospital, but he stood watching her until she disappeared from his view. He touched his fingers gently to his lips. The fire of her kiss still remained to torment him, and he had a feeling that it would remain in his mind for a long, long time. He turned back to face his horse. “We need to shake the dust of this place off our heels,” he declared. As usual, when desperation and consternation set in, he needed the solitude of the prairie or the mountains to free his brain. He could give McGarity his decision regarding a job as a scout again when he got back, but for now he needed to get away from the army and the noise.
“Heard you was back,” Alton Broom said cheerfully when he looked up to see Jordan enter the store.
“Alton,” Jordan acknowledged, walking directly over to the general merchandise side of the room. “I’ll be needin’ some supplies.”
“Hamilton Grant said he thought you might be getting’ your job back,” Alton remarked as he left the bar and moved to the counter, where Jordan now stood. “You get tired of lookin’ for gold with Ned Booth?”
“Ned’s gone under,” Jordan replied, offering no embellishment. “I ain’t made up my mind yet about scoutin’ for the army.” He reeled off a list of supplies he needed, then stood patiently while Alton picked each item from the shelves.
“Damn,” Alton uttered softly. “I’m right sorry to hear about Ned. What happened? Injuns?” He didn’t wait for Jordan to answer, but continued. “Rumors I’ve heard say there’s liable to be war with the Injuns. The army will need scouts that know the country around the Powder and the Big Horns.” Taking a cue from the list of supplies Jordan was buying, he guessed that his quiet young friend was preparing to leave again. “Look at what happened to Lieutenant Wallace’s patrol. It ain’t a good time for a white man alone to be traipsing across the prairie.” He eyed the small hide pouch that Jordan placed on the counter. “And,” he continued, “unless you’ve got a few more of these, you’re gonna need money for cartridges and staples when these give out.”
Jordan smiled. “Thanks for the sermon, but I’ll be back directly. I ain’t made up my mind what I’m gonna do yet.” This was true, but what Alton said was also true. It was easy to think about going wild, living in the mountains alone, but cartridges for Jordan’s Winchester didn’t grow on trees. And he had never learned to like the Crow version of coffee, which was made from acorns and whatever. He needed the scouting job. The thing that made him waver was whether he could remain so close to Kathleen. I should have left the arrogant son of a bitch with the Sioux. It was a thought he had had many times in the last couple of days, and a picture of Thomas Jefferson Wallace, sitting ramrod stiff in the saddle, came instantly to mind. She made her choice. Nobody held a gun on her. It’s time I let it go. She had made it pretty plain that a relationship with Jordan was never going to be. His mind back in the present, he said to Alton, “I expect I’ll be workin’ for the army again.”
Alton nodded. “I’ll be seein’ you around then.” Jordan was at the door when he heard Alton say, “Poor ol’ Ned, the Injuns got ’em.”
Jordan didn’t reply. He preferred not to tell Alton that Ned had been strung up by an out-of-control lynch mob.