A Texan's Luck (30 page)

Millie and Grace were both young lieutenants' wives. They were shy and looked to be away from home for the first time. Millie said she'd helped with quilting before, but Grace admitted she'd never even tried.

The other two women were older by ten years. January's husband was a captain like Walker. She said they'd even served together a few times along the fort line, but she couldn't remember ever meeting the mysterious Captain Larson.

Lacy let the odd comment pass and turned to the last woman in the group.

Theda, a thin woman of about thirty, was January's sister and had come to stay through her sister's pregnancy, which judging from January's girth wouldn't be much longer.

Since the others knew one another, conversation flowed as they set to work. Marianne acted as mother hen over the group and called Hayes to run so many errands that the others giggled every time she yelled the sergeant's name.

Lacy could never remember having so much fun. She explained steps and found most of the ladies already knew the basics but loved learning new stitches that slowly sewed the layers of material together. Grace's stitches were big, almost childlike in skill, but Lacy found it easy to cross over the area Grace thought she had finished and lace tiny stitches in between her huge ones without the girl noticing what she was doing.

By the time they'd turned the quilt on the board twice, there was more room in the quarters, and Grace had learned enough so that her work looked smooth and even.

By noon they were all laughing and joking as they sewed. Though Grace was shy, Millie loved to talk once she warmed up to everyone and told them all about being courted by her husband.

When she took a break to breathe, Marianne asked, "How did you meet your Walker, Lacy?"

For a moment Lacy acted like she pulled a knot out of her thread and tried her best to be casual. "I met him in a little town called Cottonwood."

"Was it love at first sight?" Millie batted her eyes.

"No, in truth, I fell in love with his letters first." She'd almost forgotten those days when she'd been fifteen and read his letters to his father, never dreaming the man who wrote would be nothing like the soldier she met. "He has a way of writing that almost makes you believe you're with him." For the first time in two years Lacy wished she hadn't thrown the letters away the day she rode back from Cottonwood.

"That's so romantic," Millie chimed in, having no idea of the real story.

Hayes delivered a tray of sandwiches. None of them wanted to stop long enough to eat. The cold winter day outside seemed far away as they worked and talked.

When the mantel clock struck five, Marianne announced it was time that they all returned home. She invited Lacy to join her and the major for dinner, but Lacy declined. Marianne didn't seem to mind, so Lacy guessed it had truly been an invitation and not an order.

She hugged all the women good-bye and started to return to her quarters. On a whim, she decided to take a walk. It would be sunset in an hour, and she'd once more be a prisoner, not allowed out.

There was such organization to the fort. It seemed to run like a well-oiled machine. Everything seemed neat and clean, unlike towns where no two buildings were the same size or had the same roofline. Lacy could see why her proper husband would feel at home in such a place.

As she passed Hayes's office, the sergeant stepped to his door. "Is there something I can do for you, ma'am?"

"No. Thank you for all your help today."

"You're welcome." He seemed pleased that she'd noticed.

"I just thought I'd stretch my legs." Lacy stepped off the porch.

"Would you like me to accompany you?" He glanced back at the stack of papers on his desk.

"No. I'll be fine. I'd like to walk to the corral and watch the horses. Is that allowed?"

"Of course. Though you'll find no mount as fine as your husband's horse. We do have a few fall colts that are fun to watch."

He went back to his desk, and Lacy circled the grounds. The place was like a little city. She walked by the corral and watched the colts for a while, then crossed to the main gate. She thought of walking down the road a piece to see what the wild town of Mobeetie looked like. She'd read that the town bore the Indian word for Sweetwater as its name and bragged that a saloon had opened the day it was founded.

On second thought, she decided to go no farther than the huge gate. After all, she'd told Walker she wouldn't leave, and if the gate closed at sunset, she might get locked out. She stood just inside and watched the late sunlight play across the tall grass, making it look almost like the prairie was on fire.

It was near dark when she circled back by Hayes's office and stopped at the door to say good night.

He jumped up from his desk when he saw her. "Oh, Mrs. Larson, I have a telegram for your husband that came yesterday about an hour after he left."

"He'll be in tonight," Lacy hoped more than knew. He'd said a few days. Had he meant two nights also?

"Would you mind giving this to him?"

"Of course not." Lacy accepted the envelope. "I'll be happy to. Good night, Sergeant."

"Good night, Mrs. Larson."

Lacy walked down the porch to her quarters and closed the door just as the last rays of the sun faded. She thought she heard the sound of the gate closing.

Standing by the fire, Lacy flipped the telegram over in her hand. Written on the outside were the words, "For Captain Walker Larson, From Sheriff Riley, Cedar Point."

Lacy tore the envelope open, knowing it had to be news from home. Walker had told her he'd let the sheriff know she was all right, and now he must be telling them of Nell's progress. She almost tore the paper opening it. All last night and most of today, Nell had been in the back of her mind. A part of her was with the girl if only in spirit.

Glad Lacy is safe stop Nell is improving stop

Dalton informs me you are to wait before riding out stop Rangers are on the way from Fort Worth stop Repeat do not go after them alone stop

Lacy read the message over and over, trying to figure out what the sheriff meant. He wanted Walker to wait. That could only mean one thing. Riley and Dalton knew Walker rode into danger.

She shoved the telegram in her pocket and headed toward the door, but when her hand touched the knob, she froze. Where was she going? Who could she tell? Hayes could do nothing. The major was the one who gave the order. He must know of the danger.

Pieces began to fit together. The way Marianne kept saying that Walker was so brave. That he'd be able to do things no one else would even attempt. That the major believed in him.

Memories of how Major Garner had looked at her. Nervous. Sad. Almost as if he felt sorry for her. She'd thought it was because he sensed that something was not right between Walker and her. Now she knew it was because he feared she might be a widow soon.

Lacy paced. Whatever Walker had ridden into had been dangerous. Everyone at the fort probably knew it except her. Walker had known. That's why he'd been so cold, so formal. That's why he'd made her promise to stay at the fort.

Maybe that was why he'd touched her so gently yesterday morning. Could he have thought it might be the last time?

Time ticked by as she tried to think of something, of anything she could do. But there was no one to ask, no one to turn to. Hayes wouldn't tell her anything. He might not know anything. The major would probably be angry at Walker for marrying such a fool if she ran down to his quarters and cried that Walker was in danger. Of course he was in danger; it was the nature of his job. She had no way to contact anyone until morning and no horse or buggy to get home in, even if she was foolish enough to try to make the journey alone and at night.

Her nerves unraveled as the hours passed and she heard nothing. If Walker planned to make it back tonight, surely he'd be here by now. It would be foolish to even think of going to bed. She knew she'd never sleep. On restless nights at home she would have moved close to the fire and quilted until she could keep her eyes open no longer.

Quilt! It might be the only thing that kept her sane. It had saved her when Walker's dad had been dying. Working on square after square of fabric somehow kept her life together as she sat beside the old man's bed and watched him slowly pass away.

She hurried to the window and looked out.

The grounds were deserted. The light in Hayes's office no longer shone out on the porch.

Lacy put out her lamp and opened the door. Silently, she slipped two doors down. The shadow of the long porch hid her from view of even the guards at the gate. Within a few seconds she hurried inside the empty quarters with the quilting frame.

Making sure the window was shuttered, Lacy lit the lamp, built up the fire, and began to work. Her nerves slowly calmed as she stitched.

It was almost dawn when Lacy finally put down
her needle. She'd worried and sewn her way back and forth across the quilt and finally grown too tired to see the stitches. She stood and stretched, feeling as though she'd aged a year during the night. Opening the shutter, she watched the sun lighten the sky, afraid of what the day might bring. Walker said he'd be back in a few days. Had he meant two, or three? If he didn't return today, she couldn't bring herself to think of what that might mean.

Walking to the dying fire, she tossed the telegram Riley had sent onto the hot coals. The sheriff's message had come too late. Walker rode out without the warning and without knowing Rangers were on their way.

She turned down the lamp and slowly stepped out onto the porch. It might be early, but the fort churned with activity. For a moment she watched, thinking of what it would be like to live in this small town where each man and woman had their duties. She almost laughed. This place would never do for her; she'd never be able to get up so early and start her day. Now, if the fort opened about ten, she might consider it.

"Mrs. Larson?" Hayes ran toward her. "Is the captain all right?"

Lacy faced the sergeant, confused by the question.

Hayes reached her. "I heard he ordered bandages sent to his quarters when he rode in."

Lacy moved toward her door. "When was that?"

Now it was Hayes's turn to look confused. "Fifteen minutes ago." Hayes fell into step with Lacy. "Major Garner just rode out for that big meeting he has in Mobeetie every month, and he yelled for me to have Captain Larson report to his office at noon if he was able. I asked how bad he was hurt, and all the major would tell me was that the captain refused to see the doctor."

Lacy flung open the door to their quarters and saw Walker standing beside the table that was covered with medical supplies. He'd stripped to the waist and was trying to tie a knot in a bandage across his arm using his one free hand and his teeth.

Slamming the door, she hurried to him. "What happened to you?"

He dropped the bandage. "What happened to me! What happened to you? I thought you'd left. I was changing clothes and trying to stop bleeding long enough to go after you."

He was bloody and dirty, and she'd never seen such anger in his eyes, but she couldn't help but run toward him. He was alive. She'd worried for nothing.

Walker took her wild embrace with a groan, but he didn't let her pull away when she realized she'd hurt him. He held her tight with one arm as if he had to know that she was really beside him.

She wiggled within his hold, her heart still threatening to pound out of her chest. "I thought you were hurt, or killed. I feared you'd never return." Her words came fast, running over one another. "I couldn't sleep, so I quilted all night."

Walker buried his face in her hair and took a deep breath. "The guard said he'd seen you by the gate last night."

She stared up at him. "You thought I'd leave after I gave you my promise to stay?"

"I only knew you were gone, and I had to go after you, even if it meant deserting."

Lacy opened her mouth to argue, then saw the blood dripping down his arm from the bandage he'd tried to tie on. She forgot what she'd been about to say. "You're hurt."

"It's only a scratch."

"Let me see." She pushed on his shoulders, and he folded into a chair. She'd expected him to protest or give her a lecture about not staying in her quarters, but to her surprise, he simply watched her.

She cleaned the wound, which was only a scratch, a very deep scratch where a bullet had peeled off flesh for a few inches halfway between his shoulder and elbow.

As she dressed the arm, she asked, "Are you going to tell me about where you went and how you got this?"

"Do you really want to know?"

Lacy thought as she tied the bandage. "Yes." If this life were a part of him, she wanted to know.

"Can it wait?" he surprised her by asking. "I haven't had any food or sleep since I left."

Lacy opened the door, not the least surprised to find Hayes waiting just outside. "Sergeant, would it be possible to have a tray of food brought for my husband?"

"He's going to be all right?" Hayes tried to see past her into their quarters.