Chapter Twenty-Five

Hattie looked one last time at the portrait of Tom Broken Arrow. She couldn’t say that she was completely satisfied with her work. There were so many emotions she’d wanted to explore—so many hopes and sorrows—that she had to accept it would never be done perfectly, and where it lacked pained her. And yet she’d attempted more than she had ever attempted before. Despite its failings, Hattie was confident that she had done as the gallery owners had recommended. She’d experienced more of life and found a deeper understanding of people.

If only she had a deeper understanding of Jack.

She had started on Jack’s portrait while he was working in the adjutant’s office, keeping up with all of Major Adams’s correspondence. She wanted her picture to be accurate, but lately she had begun to wonder if Jack had ever been the boy she thought he was. Could it be that she had misjudged him from the beginning? Either way, whatever effect she used to have on him, he’d outgrown. Now it was she who craved his attention, while he found excuses to keep his distance.

She had painted him as he’d looked their first day back at school in their seventh year. His shaggy brown hair held a touch of blond from the summer sun, and he held his well-worn books beneath his arm as he stood in the doorway of the school, eager to show what he knew. In his eyes, even though she hadn’t recognized it at the time, was joy at seeing her in the classroom. Maybe she was remembering it incorrectly, but as this wasn’t a testimony to a crime, she should be allowed some license for creativity.

Hattie swirled her brush in the jar of mineral spirits to clean it. In the last few days, Jack had stopped looking at her like that. He’d stopped looking at her at all, if he could avoid it. Could it be his way of preparing for the separation? But Hattie wasn’t sure she wanted to leave. Not yet. Maybe not ever. For now, she needed to be here. With Jack.

She heard the front door open. Time for dinner already? Her canvas wasn’t dry yet, so she hooked her fingers on the wooden frame and rushed it into the pantry to hide until Jack left again and she could stow it in a spare bedroom. She had barely closed the door when he stepped into the kitchen behind her.

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything prepared.” She wiped her paint-covered fingers on her apron.

“It’s too early for supper. I just came to take your painting of Tom to the post office before the post goes out for the night.” He really was adorable. And thoughtful. And brave. “Are you still working on it?”

She looked at the swipes of paint now marring her apron. “No, I’m finished. The crate is already packed and addressed.” She bustled into the dining room with Jack hot on her heels. “Here you go.”

“If this is packed up, what are you working on now?” It was friendly interest. That was all. But she couldn’t help but look for something more.

She caught his gaze and searched his eyes. What would he think of her painting him? She knew it would embarrass him, but would he secretly be pleased? With her heart in her throat, she ventured a parry. “It’s going to be my masterpiece.”

“Even better than Tom’s portrait?”

She nodded. She should be batting her eyes and flashing her teeth with a flirtatious smile, but she was too scared. Instead she just stood there, staring at him like a fool.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what it is?” he asked.

How could he not know? “It’s a picture of something very special to me,” she answered. “Something that has become even more special recently.”

Recognition flickered in his eyes. He looked at the ground. “Hattie, you don’t need to say that. I promised that you would get your wish. I’ll get you to Denver.”

“Why would I say something I don’t mean?”

“Because of our bargain. You’ve kept your end of it. Now I have to keep mine.”

“What if my plans have changed? What if I don’t want what I wanted before?”

“You don’t know what you want,” he said. He spoke with confidence, but the way he watched from the corner of his eye told Hattie that he wasn’t all that sure. Was she finally getting through to him?

She didn’t know how to act. She couldn’t play with his emotions. She couldn’t overstate her feelings when they were so new, but would he give her a chance if she told him about her doubts as well as her hopes?

She would take the risk.

“You’re right,” she said. “I’m not sure what I want for the rest of my life, but I know what I want tomorrow, and that is to stay here with you. And I want to stay here for the rest of this week, and maybe the next. Maybe even after this winter and on into summer.”

He swallowed. “The longer you stay, the harder it will be when you walk away.”

What if she couldn’t commit yet? Would Jack want to call on her in Denver? Maybe their courtship would survive through letters and correspondence—she imagined Jack could write a love letter to keep a girl warm on a cold winter night. But she couldn’t imagine saying good-bye. What did a boardinghouse in Denver have that compared with her days here with Jack?

He sighed. “Don’t fear your decision,” he said. “You have to find what God wants you to do, and He’s got plans for me, as well. We can trust Him.” He picked up the crate holding the portrait and carried it out of the room.

Hattie followed. “You’ll be home for dinner in a bit?”

He stopped at the threshold. Only by looking over his shoulder could Hattie see Major Adams coming across the green.

“Jack, we’ve got trouble,” the major said. “Half the tribe is at the school, wanting to take their children home. Turns out the stories about the ghost, the costume, and the missing items have convinced the parents that there is a danger. You’d better get over there.”

“Yes, sir,” Jack replied, then held up the crate. “Do you mind if I take this along to post at Darlington?”

“Not at all. Take Mrs. Hennessey, if she’s of a mind. It might do the mothers some good to see her.” He turned his steps toward his own house, then spun around to them again. “One other thing. Your request for a transfer was approved. You’ll both be relieved to know that this charade can come to an end. With the school closing, it’s a good time to take up a station elsewhere, and Mrs. Hennessey—or Miss Walker, if you’d rather—will be free to continue her life as she sees fit.” He tipped his hat. “The U.S. Army thanks you for your service, ma’am.”

The buggy could haul the crate, and it was faster than a wagon. Since time was important, Jack had it prepared immediately, and he and Hattie were on their way.

Neither of them talked. So much had been said already, but nothing determined. He had steeled himself for her departure, but her uncertainty was chipping away at his resolve to honor their arrangement.

Major Adams’s report had been correct. Horses and a few wagons crowded around the entrance to the school. Women with thick blankets wrapped over their long deerskin robes clamored on the steps, protesting any delay that left them out of their warm tepees on a day when the temperature was dropping. Chief Right Hand stood on the top step with Superintendent Seger and Agent Lee.

Jack hopped out. “Don’t go farther than the post office,” he said to Hattie, but his mind was already trying to form the words in Arapaho that might prevent the disaster in progress. “Chief, it’s cold outside. Why come to town today?” he asked when he reached the top of the steps.

“No reason to wait.” Chief Right Hand spoke clearly for the group of people who hung on his words. “These are my people in this building. I want them to come home, and I’m their chief. You must release them.”

“You’re correct,” Jack said, “but can I ask why? What is the reason today? The Christmas celebration is later this week, and all the children will go back to their families after that.”

“There’s unrest,” he said. “You promised to protect them, but they are not safe. Our daughters are in danger at night.”

After what he saw in the basement, Jack had to agree. There had been danger, but the danger was past.

“Chief, I can show you what has frightened the girls. There is no spirit. It was a—” He paused, trying to come up with the right word. “A man who had taken refuge in the school. He was hiding and stealing food at night. I can show you where he was sleeping and the door he was using, but now the school knows about it. The door is locked. We could put a guard on it if you’d like.”

“What man? Has he been punished? No man could creep into our tepees at night without punishment.” The chief shook his head. “Until you protect our children as carefully as you would protect your own, they will stay with us. We know how to look after them.”