Calico Brides (16 page)

Annie busied herself smoothing out the wrinkles in the quilt as best she could. Even after Ruth informed her that the lieutenant wouldn’t bid today, she knew she must set an example and entertain one of the soldiers. Now she prayed for grace to endure the meal. So far, Private Mack Jackson had set her teeth on edge with his abrasive actions and his attempts to lead her farther and farther away from the main group.

When she could avoid him no longer, she prayed for one last measure of grace and turned around with a smile on her face. He offered her a glass of lemonade. That was thoughtful of him. She told herself to give the young man a chance.

As she reached to accept the glass, someone knocked it out of Jackson’s hand. Before she turned, she suspected who she would find. The Bear had returned.

J
eremiah grabbed Private Jackson by his uniform collar, lifting him until his toes dragged the ground. They filled her view, two figures shadowed against the noon sun, locked in fight. If it could be called a fight—the private’s arms flailed wildly without reaching their target.

Annie heard rather than saw people gathering around them. Mrs. Peate appeared silently and took Annie’s arm, edging her away from the two men. Slowly, she tuned out Jeremiah’s heavy breathing and the private’s indignant protests.

Voices crowded in. She couldn’t identify the speakers.

“Maybe he was getting fresh with her.”

“I hear she’s the one who made us the mittens.”

Others chimed in, all talking over each other, too many to make out more than a word here or there. Mrs. Peate eased her backward through a sea of blue uniforms, and they reached the ring of watching townsfolk. At the opposite side of the circle, Annie saw Ruth talking quietly with Pastor Fairfield. As he shouldered his way to the center of the circle, Annie sent up a prayer for a peaceful resolution. Had all their prayers and hopes led to this? Why had Jeremiah attacked Private Jackson?

The pastor stood between Jeremiah and the private, arms extended to keep them apart. Other men from the town joined the circle, but Annie couldn’t distinguish their voices from those of the soldiers to know what they were saying. Captain Peate joined the preacher at the center, and Annie breathed a sigh of relief.

Pastor Fairfield dropped the hand holding Jackson back. The private lunged forward, swinging a right hook at Jeremiah. His fist connected with the lieutenant’s nose with a bone-shattering thud.

A lad young enough to still be in school landed a punch on a soldier’s arm. Three, four, five punches followed, as the ladies backed away in fright. Mrs. Peate tugged Annie in the direction of Ruth and her mother, who were part of a group of women who stood at a safe distance from the brawling men. “You are the pastor’s wife?”

Mrs. Fairfield nodded.

“I am Mrs. Peate, the captain’s wife. Let’s gather the women together and pray.” At Mrs. Fairfield’s agreement, they called to the others, gathered in a circle, and Mrs. Fairfield voiced a quiet prayer.

In spite of the men’s shouts, Annie was aware when more women joined the circle. A hand clasped hers, and she opened her eyes briefly to catch sight of Aunt Kate standing next to her. Annie then reached on her other side for Ruth.

As each woman added her prayers, the sounds of the fight intruded less and less. Gladys was pouring out her heart when the pastor’s voice broke into their prayer meeting. “It’s over, ladies.”

Annie opened her eyes. At the spot where she had begun her lunch, Captain Peate had gathered the soldiers in rows. The men of the town circled the lawn, collecting baskets and quilts.

A grim-faced lieutenant marched toward the women. He kept his eyes trained on Mrs. Peate and Annie as he addressed the group. “I apologize for the disturbance today. I have the captain’s word that everyone responsible for starting the fight will be sent to the stockade.” He paused, and Annie noticed the swelling forming around his nose and left eye. “Including me.” He looked at the ground then straightened his shoulders in determination. Thrusting his shoulders back, he looked determined to face the worst. “I saw the private adding liquor to Miss Bliss’s pitcher of lemonade. Several other men brought liquor with them, against the captain’s orders. They also will be punished.”

Private Jackson had added liquor to her lemonade? Annie shivered at how close she had come to drinking alcohol. In that case, she was glad for the way the lieutenant had barged in and knocked it away. She nodded her understanding and appreciation.

The women disbanded, joining their husbands to clean the lawn. At the captain’s command, the soldiers ran in formation around the perimeter of the lawn behind the church. Jeremiah nodded at the men running in rank. “He’ll keep them at it until they’re exhausted, and then he’ll make them march double time all the way to the fort.”

“Does your nose hurt?” The question blurted out of Annie’s mouth instead the words of reproach she had imagined earlier or the words of thanksgiving he had earned.

Touching the offending feature, he winced. “It’s not broken. I’ve suffered worse.” He dropped his hand back to his side, and he stared at the ground as if looking for encouragement. When at last he lifted his face, pain that had nothing to do with his nose showed in the lines wrinkling his forehead and tugging his mouth into a frown. “An apology can’t begin to express my regret about what happened here today. Miss Bliss—Annie— we have failed you. I have failed you.”

The man I’ve called the Bear just apologized?
It was time to return that nickname to the cave where it belonged.

Jeremiah looked to the back, where the men began to slow their pace. He belonged back there, accepting the discipline he deserved for starting the fight, for not preventing trouble in the first place. Instead, he stayed rooted to the spot, imprisoned by the kindness of the woman before him.

A soft hand floated against his nose, tracing the path of the broken skin. “Look at me.”

He lifted his face and looked into her bluebell-colored eyes, tears rimming the bottom of her irises. “It is I who must offer thanks to you. If you hadn’t knocked the glass down, I would have…” He followed the path of the swallow pushing down her throat. “I would have drunk it.”

He opened his mouth to apologize again. If he had done his job, no one would have brought whiskey to the social.

Her feathery fingers fell against his lips. “Don’t apologize. I am thankful that you protected me, as well as anyone else at risk.”

Jeremiah didn’t agree. If he hadn’t agreed to the risky idea of the soldiers mingling with townsfolk, she wouldn’t have been in danger. But her faith, her passion, convinced him to try. Hadn’t his experience taught him anything at all? Six years ago he thought he could change a woman’s heart, and instead, she died in her sin. Perhaps he should be thanking the Lord that no one was seriously hurt today; but there was danger, and some promising young soldiers might lose heart for the military life. He took a step back, the spot where her fingers had touched his lips burning at the separation.

He forced backbone into his words. “Given what happened today, I need to reconsider whether we should continue with the planned activities or not.” He turned on his heels before she could protest and crossed the grass to the ranks of soldiers at a pace as fast as their run.

A week later, life at the fort had returned to normal. Jackson spent three nights in the stockade for his role in throwing the first punch; the other culprits spent a single night. The captain had questioned Jeremiah for his side of the events. When he explained about the whiskey flask, the captain relaxed.

The captain called him back today. Jeremiah remained at rigid attention. Although Captain Peate had not sent him to the stockade, Jeremiah still felt responsible for every man who ended up there. Against all his vows to avoid entanglements, he had allowed Miss Bliss—Annie—through his defenses. And look what had happened. He kept his chin up and his back straight, ready to absorb whatever reprimand the captain threw his way.

“At ease, Lieutenant—Jeremiah.” The captain sat down and motioned for Jeremiah to do the same. “You have my decision on the incident at the box social. I do not hold you responsible for the brawl. Sit down—I hate looking up at you.” Jeremiah accepted the invitation but kept his back straight, only touching the chair at his shoulders.

“Now, concerning the continuing relationship with the community. That is a thornier issue.” He glanced at the sheet of paper in front of him, lifted it between thumb and forefinger, and gestured with it to Jeremiah. “Pastor Fairfield has written a letter to me. He suggests postponing the planned events to give both parties a couple of weeks to simmer down. The folks of his church have graciously agreed to give our men a second chance, and I have promised him that the men responsible for the problem will be restricted to the fort. Miss Fairfield and Miss Bliss will be here shortly to discuss the details.”

Jeremiah headed for the stable to put his horse away. He rubbed the mare’s nose, trying to lasso his thoughts. Although he knew what he must do, he feared his best intentions would disappear the instant he caught a whiff of the smell of white jasmine in Annie’s hair.

He was adding extra oats to his horse’s feedbag when he heard the stable door open. Mack Jackson stood in the doorway. “Chaplain?”

Love your enemy… . This is hard, Lord
. “Yes, Private?”

“I know Miss Bliss is here from the church.”

Jeremiah stiffened, not wanting to hear whatever he had to say. “You’d best not go near her.”

“Oh no, sir. I only wanted you to tell her how sorry I am for the way I behaved. I don’t expect her to forgive me. I don’t deserve that. But…” His voice trailed off, and he shrugged.

Jeremiah narrowed his eyes and stared at the young man through slits. “I will convey your words to Miss Bliss.”

Jackson didn’t move.

“You are dismissed, soldier!”

Jackson saluted and left.

Jeremiah slowly followed. No use wishing the women wouldn’t come. One last look heavenward, and he walked with purpose to the captain’s quarters.

The door opened as soon as his knuckles rapped on the door. Annie—Miss Bliss, he reminded himself—hovered in front of him, her face echoing his own uncertainty. Tears spilled out of her eyes, when she hadn’t even cried on the day of the box social.

“Oh Lieutenant.” She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “How good of you to come.”

At the signs of her distress, he wanted nothing more than to comfort her. He settled for holding the back of the chair for her.

On her right, Ruth tipped her teacup in his direction.

A burlap sack lay open at their feet, hues of dark blues and greens peeking at him. Annie had been busy with her knitting needles again. Catching the direction of his glance, she handed him the garment. “This is for you. I wanted you to have it, even if…I don’t see you again.” Her face crumpled, and she began crying again.

Had someone demanded the soldiers no longer go to town? Why hadn’t he been informed? “What has happened, Annie?” Her name slipped out of his mouth.

“My brother—Samuel, the one in the army—has been in an accident. His captain contacted us, telling us that his wound is serious. Mama took the next train out. We haven’t heard anything since then.”

Jeremiah’s memory flew back almost seven years, to the day he had arrived home to a house that reeked of death. He leaned forward until he was nose to nose with Annie and the other women faded into the background. “Oh Annie.” His hand reached of its own accord, his thumb brushing away the tear hovering beneath her left eyelid.

At his touch, she shuddered briefly. She opened eyes so blue that the whole of the Atlantic Ocean could flow in tears to express her sorrow. “The person who wrote the letter said my brother might die. Lieutenant—Jeremiah—I’m so scared.”

When she reached for him, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to take her in his arms and rest her head against his shoulder while her tears drenched his uniform. He wanted to keep her there forever.

A
s soon as Gladys reached for the last cookie, Annie grabbed the empty plate and headed for the sink. Footsteps followed her into the kitchen.