Damn, he was tired of these eerie feelings. Fighting the urge to devour her all night had left him so full of frustration his skin was too tight. But right now, her tone sliced him deep, as did the set of her chin. Together they caused a peculiar inner instinct to kick in, as if he somehow knew a storm was brewing.
They finished the meal in silence and that irritated Seth even more. The shine was gone from her eyes, the glow from her cheeks. She was like a chameleon, changing her skin color to adapt to her surroundings.
A knock on the door had him pushing away from the table. The movement didn’t help the knot in his stomach, the one that coiled itself around his spine until his back ached. That gut-wrenching sensation occurred whenever he was reminded of the old Rosemary, and nothing relieved it. Hadn’t for years.
Aw, hell. He was putting too much thought into all this, that was the problem. This wasn’t an Indian uprising, where he had to strategically consider every move, find a way to think ahead of his opponent. This was about one tiny woman. He had to quit questioning if she was Millie or Rosemary. He knew the answer to that. Carrying Rosemary to his bed would never have happened. Would never happen. Ever. His goal, to get to the bottom of why Millie was here, and send her home, hadn’t changed. The fort was no place for her. She was too innocent for this untamed territory, and for him.
“Major? We’re here to check for snakes.”
Shaking his head, Seth glanced up, half unaware he’d even opened the door. Stepping aside, he waved a hand. “Come in, Private.”
“Ma’am,” Kent Wickham said, clicking his heels together as he squared his shoulders and pulled the hat off his head.
From the archway between the two rooms, she nodded. “Good morning.”
The way her cheeks grew pink again when Seth caught her gaze had him clenching his teeth. Leaving as soon as possible was what would be best for everyone. The men were taking too much notice. Even in the simple dress, green with tiny white stripes, without lace or ruffles or other embellishments, she looked as stunning as a woman decked out in finery for a fancy ball. The form-fitting gown enhanced her slender figure, but it was more than that. Natural beauty hovered around her like a glow an artist painted around images of angels.
He’d discovered that something soft and whimsical swirled around his heart whenever he looked at her lately. A reaction he’d never before experienced, and that worried him. Almost as much as what had happened last night worried him. He had a fort to oversee and couldn’t afford to be distracted. He certainly couldn’t afford to take Millie’s innocence.
Two other privates greeted her as they entered, and Seth quickly explained the situation last night, before he moved to where she stood in the archway as the searchers went upstairs.
He was a military man, had embraced that choice for years. But when it came to spending time with her or carrying out his duties, resentment toward his obligations tended to flare up. That had never happened before and couldn’t happen now. Things were precarious out here, and needed his constant attention. Per-Cum-Ske was insistent upon going to Washington, and that was what needed Seth’s focus right now. He should have been at it an hour ago.
“I’ll walk with you as far as headquarters,” he said.
“I’ll need my bonnet and wrist bag.”
The grimace when she glanced toward the stairs made him grin, even though he didn’t want to. “I’ll get them,” he offered. “Where are they?”
“Thank you,” she said. “They’re in the wardrobe closet. Hanging on a hook on the left.”
He nodded and shot up the stairs. After insisting the men double-and triple-check every nook and cranny, he grabbed her items and found her waiting on the front porch.
“I’m sure there aren’t any more snakes,” he said, pulling the door closed behind him.
“I hope not.” She took the bonnet, slipped it on and tied the long ribbons on the side of her chin before taking the bag. “Thank you. Both for getting my things and for having the men search the house.”
There was a shyness about her again, and with it came the desire to kiss her again. It had been there the moment he’d awakened with her still snuggled against his side, and had been with him ever since, other than that fleeting moment in the kitchen when she’d reminded him of the past. Then he’d wanted her out of here as fast as possible. Now, looking into those clear brown eyes, he didn’t want her to be anywhere but at his side. Which was impossible.
Seth dwelled on that as they walked, and if she hadn’t stopped, he’d have kept going right past headquarters. The big stone building with its wide double doors mocked him this morning. Challenged him to ignore the responsibilities that lay inside it. Inside him.
“Have a good meeting,” she said.
Accepting his duties, as he always would, he let loose her arm.
Millie, with her hands trembling and her insides fluttering, turned, knowing he wouldn’t go into his meeting while she was standing there. He was too much of a gentleman for that. Putting one foot in front of the other had never been quite this difficult before. The desire to tell him the truth, the entire truth, created a rather intense argument inside her.
By the time she reached the trading post she had resigned herself again to the fact that she couldn’t tell Seth anything, but it left her stomach churning. She told herself to ignore it. Not that it helped.
“Aw, Mrs. Parker, your boots are in.”
“Good morning, Mr. Jenkins,” she said, maneuvering through the space, which was even more crowded than usual. Crates made of thin wooden slats were balanced precariously and stacked head high in most every direction. “My husband thought they might have arrived.” A thrill circled her heart. Husband. One word had never filled her with such pride.
“Yes, yes, just this morning,” the bearded store owner answered. “I’d sent a wagon to Denver the day you ordered them, to make sure I’d get them as soon as possible. No one wants to disappoint the major.”
“I’m sure they don’t,” she answered, turning toward the dusty window, where the faint outline of the headquarters building could be seen. Seth was a firm leader, but well respected and admired. She’d gathered that from the first day, and every day since.
“Here they are, ma’am.”
Mr. Jenkins, the lower half of his face covered in white whiskers, had set a pair of black boots very similar to the ones she was wearing on the counter. “These are perfect,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Would you like to try them on?”
“I don’t believe there is any need.” Then, remembering the soldiers searching for snakes, she realized spending time at the trading post seemed a much better idea than returning home. Especially if another slithering creature was uncovered. “On second thought, I believe I will.”
Mr. Jenkins pulled a stool around the plank-and-barrel counter and set it down, patting the round top. “Here you go. Sit right here.”
In no hurry, she removed a boot and slipped her foot into one of the new ones. It fit perfectly and the inner sole was as soft as a pillow. “These are very nice boots, Mr. Jenkins.”
“Only the best,” he said with a wide grin. “I have something else for you, ma’am.”
“Oh?” she answered absently, while removing the boot. The idea that Seth had picked them out filled her with a unique sense of endearment. She’d save them for special occasions.
“Here you go.” The man held out a yellow parasol, complete with cane handle.
Shaking her head, she sought for an explanation. “I don’t recall ordering that, Mr. Jenkins, though it is very beautiful.”
“You didn’t order it, ma’am. It’s my gift to you.” The top of his head, very close to being hairless, took on a pink glow. “Seeing how your other one was ruined on your journey out here.”
His smile was so bright and his tone so sincere, she had a hard time shaking her head again. “I couldn’t accept such a gift, Mr. Jenkins. But thank you for the thought.”
He extended it farther. “I insist, Mrs. Parker. It’s a gift to welcome you to our fort. Please take it.”
“Oh, but I couldn’t.”
Shaking his head, the man said, “Then I’ll have to tell the major.”
Her stomach flipped. “Tell the major what?”
“That you wouldn’t accept my welcoming gift.” There was a teasing glint in his eyes. “He’ll make you take it. He likes to keep everyone happy. Makes for easier living.”
Relieved, because for a split second she’d thought he had discovered her true identity, Millie clicked her tongue. “You, Mr. Jenkins, are a rascal.”
His guffaw echoed off the walls, ceiling and unevenly stacked crates. “That I am, ma’am. Now are you gonna take my present or not?”
“I believe I have no choice.” She grasped the handle and ran her other hand over the silk and lace folded and tied along the intricate woodwork. It was a beautiful piece, and finely made. “Thank you, Mr. Jenkins. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”
“And we appreciate you. The major’s been grinning ever since you stepped off that wagon.”
Her heart seemed to double in size. Everyone at the fort was so kind to her. Had been since her arrival. She leaned closer to the man and teasingly whispered, “He’s probably still thinking about the comical limp my broken heel gave me.”
The storekeeper’s rumbling laughter filled the room again. “You were a sight, ma’am.”
She couldn’t help but giggle. “I know.” Happiness like this was so new, sometimes she wondered if she should pinch herself. Setting the parasol on the counter next to her boots, she asked, “May I leave these here? I’d like to look around a bit.”
“Of course.” He picked a can out of the box next to him and set it on the shelf. “I gotta get this freight unloaded, but you just holler if you find something you can’t reach.”
“I will,” she assured him, already scanning the shelves and tables. There truly wasn’t anything she needed, but it would take the men time to check the house, so she might as well explore the merchandise. Besides, with Seth at headquarters, there was little else to fill her time.
Time. Now that was an amazing thing. A week ago, she’d thought Mr. Jenkins a scary-looking character, but now recognized he was an enterprising shop owner who was also generous. A kind-hearted soul. Not even the Indians filing in and out of the doorway fazed her. She offered a smile to those who glanced her way. Who’d have ever imagined she’d adjust so well, so quickly? It just proved people could get used to new things if they would only try.
Her hand stalled on the glass chimney of the oil lamp she’d been admiring. The tiny flowers on the base no longer drew her attention. She’d adjusted all right. More than she should have. A heavy weight settled in her chest.
She’d tried to become Rosemary this morning, but hadn’t put forth much effort. It was as if something inside her refused to allow the disguise to manifest, and she’d readily accepted that. How would she ever make it to December? September was barely over, and every day it grew more difficult to remember why she was here. It wasn’t that she didn’t think of her sister and the baby regularly. But being here wasn’t so much of a chore anymore, and that wasn’t right. Rosemary wouldn’t be enjoying life at the fort, and that’s who Seth had to divorce. Rosemary. Not Millie.
The air around her grew suffocating. It was as if she no longer existed, yet at the same time, she had never been happier. And that was the problem. This wasn’t about her. It was about her sister and Seth. Millie felt as if her head was spinning. The harder she thought, the more confusing everything became. Of all the skirmishes and incidents she’d had to clean up for Rosemary, this was the most complicated, especially for her.
Millie cleared her lungs with a long sigh, but it didn’t help. What kept her head spinning and belly churning the most, what turned her inside out, was that she didn’t want Seth to not like her. But he had to dislike her in order to divorce her, didn’t he? Divorced people didn’t like each other—at least she assumed they didn’t. She’d never known a divorced person.
“Do you like the lamp?” Mr. Jenkins asked.
She spun around, and walked to the counter. “Yes, it’s very pretty, but I have no need for it.” Pointing to the shelf behind him, at items that had caught her eye earlier, she asked, “Could I have one of those tablets, and a pencil holder and lead?”
“Do you like to draw?” he asked, stepping onto a stool to reach the paper.
“Yes, I do.” There was no reason to explain that she hadn’t spent much time drawing lately. She hadn’t done a lot of things she used to do. Lack of money. Lack of time. Lack of desire. The reasons just continued. Right now, she needed to draw. Needed something to occupy her mind.
“I have this new lead holder.” The shopkeeper held up a metal tube much larger than her miniature ones at home. “The men swear by it. They say the size is much easier to use. I have smaller ones if you prefer.”
“No, actually, I’d like to try the larger one, thank you. I’ll need a box of leads, as well.”
“Anything else?”
“No, that will do.” She pulled open the top of her wrist bag. “How much do I owe you?”
“I’ll just put it on the major’s account,” Mr. Jenkins said, arranging the boots, paper tablet and pencil set in a small crate.
“I’d rather not. I’ll just pay you.”
He was shaking his head. “Can’t do that, Mrs. Parker. The major would have my scalp, and I ain’t got much hair left to lose. If you wanna pay someone, pay your husband.” Jenkins turned then and shouted over his shoulder, “Wind, come carry this for the major’s wife.”
Short of arguing, insisting she’d pay for her supplies and causing undue distress for the shopkeeper, Millie closed her bag and hooked the string over her wrist. “I can carry the crate. There’s no need to trouble anyone.”
“Wind likes doing it,” Mr. Jenkins said as a young boy, no more than ten or so, came running through a blanket-draped doorway next to the long set of shelves behind the counter. “Don’t you, boy?”
“Haa.” The child nodded. “Yes.”
“Here then, follow the major’s wife to her place. But come back, and no dillydallying. We’ve got a lot of freight to put away.”
The boy grabbed the crate off the counter, looking at her expectantly with big brown eyes. His black hair hung to his shoulders, which were thin and bare, showing the sharp edges of his collarbones. The only clothing he wore was a pair of brown leather pants that stopped near his knees.
Smiling, Millie said, “Hello, Wind.”
“Maruawe, hello, Major’s wife.” Turning to the shopkeeper, Wind tipped his head toward the parasol. “That, too?”
Mr. Jenkins nodded.
“I can carry it.” She lifted the parasol off the counter. “Good day, Mr. Jenkins. Thank you for all your assistance.”
With a nod and a smile that was hard to see with all his facial hair, he said, “My pleasure.”
The day was warm, as most every day since she’d arrived had been, yet winter was around the corner. Popping open the parasol, she shielded both herself and the boy from the bright sunlight. “Do you live here, Wind, at the fort?” she asked, already thinking of the material in Mr. Jenkins’s shop, and wondering if the boy would let her sew clothes for him. Not that she knew how, but she could learn.
“Kee, no. We came for Per-Cum-Ske to talk to Major.”
“Per-Cum-Ske? Is he your father?”
“No. He Comanche leader.”
“A chief?
“Kee, no. A leader.” The boy hoisted the crate higher in his arms. “He go talk to Wash-ing-ton man. Tell him we need buffalo.”
“Washington man? Do you mean the president?”
“Haa. Yes.”
Sadness welled inside her. Congress couldn’t know there were children out here, hungry and without clothes. Surely they would have done something more if they did. Wouldn’t they? It would be nice to believe they would have, but deep down, she had an inclination they knew. The army had been out here for years. They would have reported such things. Another welling happened, one that filled her with warmth and pride. Seth would make them listen. He’d make things better.
Smiling at the boy, she asked, “Mr. Jenkins hired you to help him?”
The child spoke well, better than some of the older Indians she’d encountered, yet a frown rippled his forehead as he asked, “Hired?”
“Yes, he pays you to help him. Gives you money?”
“Haa, yes. Trade. Gives sweet stick.”
“Sweet stick?”
A smile took up his entire face. “Haa. Good. Much good.”
“Candy?” she asked. “He pays you with candy?”
“Haa. Much good. My...my, uh, seester, she like.”
“You share it with your sister?” Imagining a little girl as adorable as Wind was easy, yet a candy stick wasn’t an appropriate payment. Though Millie had come to understand money meant nothing to the tribes. They bartered for everything.
“Haa,” he answered, still grinning.
They were approaching the house, where Russ stood near the corner talking with the three men who had been looking for snakes. “Corporal Kemper, may I speak with you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, and after nodding to the men, turned and met her on the short walkway leading to the porch. Standing stiff and straight, with his hands behind his back, he asked, “What can I do for you, Mrs. Parker?”
Already digging in her bag, she pulled out several coins. “Would you please escort Wind back to the trading post and purchase as much candy as this will buy for him?”
Russ’s green eyes went from sparkling to dull and filled with unease. “Ma’am, I don’t—”
“Corporal Kemper,” she interrupted, and though it felt wrong to use her status so, in this instance she would, and be glad of the power being a major’s wife allowed. “I wouldn’t want to tell my husband you’ve disappointed me.”
“No, ma’am.” Blushing red, the corporal took the coins.
“Just put the box right there, Wind.” She collapsed the parasol while waiting for the boy to set the crate on the bottom step, and then bent down in front of him. “Thank you very much for helping me. You follow Corporal Kemper back to Mr. Jenkins’s store and take what he gives you. It’s for you and your sister. It’s my trade for your assistance. For carrying the crate for me.”
His little shoulders squared with what she assumed to be dignity. “Haa. Ura.”
“Ura,” she repeated, watching the boy walk away. Pins seemed to prickle her skin. Wind had nothing, yet what he did have, he shared with his sister, whereas she and Rosemary, having whatever they’d wanted when they were his age, had rarely shared anything. Well, Millie had, but she’d always felt resentful. Another shameful thing to admit, even to herself. But it was the truth. She’d resented the fact that she owed her sister, and right now she resented what she was doing for payment of that debt.
Millie walked up the steps toward one of the high-back chairs. This trip had her thinking about things she’d never thought of before, seeing a side of herself she’d never admitted to having. Plopping into the chair and sending it rocking back and forth, she thought of the reason she was here. A baby, who someday would be a boy not so unlike Wind, or a girl, like his sister. A child who would need love and care, food and clothing, and a candy stick every now and again. A child who was depending on Millie this very moment.
“This just ain’t right,” Lola had said in the early morning dawn weeks ago, yet the words echoed in Millie’s mind as clearly as if the woman was standing beside her right now. “Your Papa wouldn’t like this, not at all.”
“I know,” Millie whispered, just as she had that morning—the day she’d left.
“That girl ain’t never gonna learn if you keep stepping in, righting her wrongs,” Lola had added.
A long sigh escaped as Millie continued to rock. Lola didn’t understand Rosemary’s need for affection. Never had, but Millie did. Not so unlike Rosemary, she’d always longed for their mother, too.
Big tears had cascaded down Lola’s coffee-hued cheeks when they’d hugged goodbye, and Millie had cried, too. She hadn’t wanted to go, but there had been no choice.
Rosemary had said she didn’t want Seth disgraced, which he certainly would be if others learned of her pregnancy, and now that Millie knew Seth, she felt even more strongly about that. He was such an honorable man, and truly didn’t deserve the way his wife had carried on with other men.
“I’ll wire you as soon as the child’s born,” Lola had said. “But once you get those papers signed, don’t you bring them back here. You mail them, and then go to Texas, tell that young Martin you’ll be the best wife he ever hoped to have.”
Lola hadn’t given her time to answer before continuing, “I’ll take care of everything here. No harm will come to that baby, not before it arrives or after.”
Tears pressed on Millie’s eyes now, just as they had that morning. Although she believed Lola would see to the baby’s safety, she wouldn’t be going to Texas. She’d known that then, but hadn’t told Lola. During the train and wagon rides, Millie had tried to convince herself she could go to Texas when this was all over, but knew the entire time she wouldn’t. That would be as big a sham as this one. She and Martin didn’t love each other—not like that. Not as a husband and wife should.
Flinching inside, she rerouted her thoughts.
Weeks before the morning of her departure, she’d told Rosemary she would help, had even offered to claim the child as hers. But her sister would hear nothing of that. She’d announced that as soon as the child was born, and her divorce settled, she and the baby’s father would marry. Lola insisted the baby’s father was already married, and Millie believed that to be true. Most of the men that “frequented” the house were married. Millie had tried to talk to Rosemary about it over the years, only to have her insist that Millie knew nothing about the needs a woman had. She couldn’t argue with that, but she did know right from wrong.
Shortly after Papa had died, Martin had told her about her sister’s trysts. He’d been over in Charlottesville and seen Rosemary, who’d pretended not to know him.
Millie’s stomach started churning again. Martin had been disgusted by her sister’s behavior, and he’d feel the same way about what Millie was doing. Though he’d been her best friend for as long as she could remember, he’d never understood the guilt that churned inside her. She’d never told him about it, either. That she was the reason Rosemary was the way she was. As an infant, Millie had been too young to remember their mother, but Rosemary had been older, and the loss had scarred her—forever.
Quiet, thoughtful, Millie sat for several minutes. She’d have to return to Richmond when this was all over. Rosemary would need her more than ever.
Eventually, she pushed herself out of the chair and walked down the steps, to carry the box onto the porch. Digging out the pad and pencil, she sat back down, and after loading the lead in the holder, flipped open the cover on the tablet.
Despite starting over several times, she found Seth’s features appearing on the paper again and again. It was the only image her fingers wanted to draw. After the seventh or eighth picture, she gave up, though her eyes remained on the tablet. How had the plan suddenly become so complicated? First, she hadn’t known how to delay him in demanding a divorce, and now she didn’t know how to convince him that she wanted one, after all. No, that Rosemary wanted one. But she was supposed to be Rosemary. Oh, how had it come to this? Millie pressed her fingers to her temples to try to ward off what was building into a fearsome headache. The thought of leaving Seth tugged at her heart as fiercely as if they truly were married.
A heavy lump formed in her throat. She was being selfish again, thinking about herself and not her sister.
Flipping to a new page, she found her pencil strokes flowed easily, quickly. From practice. Rosemary loved to have her likeness sketched, until a few years ago, when out of frustration at her sister’s latest antics, Millie had drawn Rosemary a bit chunkier than she was. That, too, had been selfish. Other than in the secrecy of her room, Millie hadn’t drawn since then.
Her heartbeat quickened, and she didn’t understand why until she lifted her head.
Seth stood at the bottom of the steps, more handsome than when he’d left this morning. But it was the smile on his face that was almost her undoing.
The tip of the lead snapped against the paper.
“Hi,” he said, walking forward.
Wiping away the chunk of lead, which left a smear across the bottom of the page, Millie answered, “Hello.” Thank goodness her voice wasn’t as out of control as the flock of butterflies dancing a cotillion in her stomach. Ignoring them was next to impossible. So was finding where she’d buried her sister inside her.
“What are you doing?”
“Just drawing,” she answered, making a few more strokes.
“May I?” He held a hand toward the pad of paper.
Shrugging, she passed it over. He’d already seen the picture, so there was no use attempting to hide it.
His gaze made several trips from the paper to her face, until her cheeks were burning.
“This isn’t you.”
Gulping inwardly, she searched for an answer that would make him believe it was a self-portrait and not a picture of Rosemary. “My hair is styled differently.”
He studied the paper again. “No, that’s not it. It’s a good likeness, but it’s not you.”
Why had she been so foolish as to draw Rosemary? It was as if her very spirit wanted the truth out and was scheming against her. “Actually, it’s my sister. Millie.”
He pointed to the paper. “This is Millie?”
“Yes. That’s her.”
Seth studied her face for a moment more before gazing back at the pad. “Do you miss her?” he asked, before flipping through the other pages.
Her heart started hammering. He’d have to notice the drawings were all of him. “Doesn’t everyone miss those left behind?” she asked, hoping to distract him from looking too closely at the pictures.
“Yes, we do,” he answered, without looking up.
Folding her trembling hands in her lap, she asked, “Where’s your family?”
“My brother is in Montana, my mother in Boston.”
“You never mention them.”
He shrugged. “I haven’t seen them for years. Sam is in the army, too, and my mother writes to both of us regularly. She’s remarried, to Ralph Wadsworth. They have three children together. They’re all doing well.” He flipped through a few more pages. “These are good. I didn’t know you liked to draw.”
“I guess there are a lot of things we don’t know about each other.”
His eyes were back on her, staring thoughtfully. The longing inside her, to kiss him again and have him hold her in his arms as he had last night in bed, stole her ability to think. The swirling in her stomach went lower, to the very spot it had been last night, and stirred up a tremendous heat and ache.
Still watching her, he leaned down, and it was as if a fire had been lit between them. She couldn’t breathe, had never felt such intensity inside her. It was chaotic and exciting at the same time.
He took the pencil from her fingers and, barely moving, set both it and the tablet in the crate near his feet.
Millie was still holding her breath. Her lips were now trembling and the heat between them was growing. His eyes were watching hers and she didn’t dare so much as blink for fear she’d miss something. She wasn’t exactly sure what, but anticipation said it would be wonderful.
A smile lifted the corners of his mouth as his hands folded around hers, gently towing her out of the chair as he stepped back.
“Let’s go inside,” he whispered.
A thrill shot through her veins and she nodded.
“I’ll get the box. You get your new umbrella.”
The haze surrounding her thoughts dissipated enough for her to move and pick up the parasol from where it leaned against the porch railing. “Mr. Jenkins gave it to me.”
“I know,” Seth said, opening the door.
She was about to step inside when a wail like she’d never heard before echoed over the compound. Millie spun about, but couldn’t see anything other than Seth, who was pushing her through the doorway.
“Stay here,” he said, and then pulled the door shut.
Millie stood there for a matter of seconds, before her heart leaped into her throat and she wrenched the door open. Once on the porch, she saw Seth running across the compound, and she gave chase.