Jodi Thomas (2 page)

Chapter Two

Colt carried the luggage through the door of his house. “The girls sleep upstairs in the loft.” He carefully maneuvered the bags so that they didn’t accidentally hit the children circling at his feet. “I can move my office next door. You and your aunt can bunk in that room.” He pointed to the first of two doors on the opposite side of the house.

“Bunk?” Etta’s thin eyebrows raised all the way to her hairline. “Sounds like fun.”

Joanna could see the gleam of adventure in her aunt’s eyes, excitement that hadn’t been there before. “That will be fine, Captain.” She glanced around at the room so void of furnishings it looked as if the house were unoccupied. Through an opening to the left she could see a kitchen area, as sparsely furnished as the rest.

Sergeant Buckles shuffled into the room as he hitched up his breeches. “Need a detail to move the desk and books from your study, Cap’n?”

Colt nodded, wondering how Sergeant Buckles always managed to guess a command five seconds before he thought of it. Aloud he said to the ladies, “Besides being the best driver on the post, Sergeant Buckles also cooks for me and the girls, as well as keeps these quarters in order.”

Joanna wondered what could get out of order in a house so bare. No woman’s touch had ever brushed these rooms. Whatever happened to the captain’s wife, happened before he moved here. As she stepped toward him the large man moved quickly out of the room as if nervous to be so close to a woman.

Within seconds he marched back through the room, his arms loaded down with supplies. He glanced at the captain. “Am I still the cook, Cap’n?” He didn’t sound too enthusiastic about his job.

Before Colt could answer, Etta chimed in, “I can cook for you and the girls. There’s not much I can’t stir up. That way I’ll feel like I’m earning my keep around here.”

For the first time in all the years Colt had known Buckles, he saw a look of true admiration in the sergeant’s eyes as he stared at her.

And Etta seemed so excited, Colt couldn’t say no. He’d spent his life around men, but he guessed Etta wanted, like most people, to be valued. “I’d be mighty grateful, ma’am. I need the sergeant for duty.”

Etta followed Buckles into the kitchen, pulling things from the supply box even before he set it down. “Come along, girls,” she ordered kindly. “I’ll tell you about the time I fought a grizzly bear single-handed while we put the supplies away.”

Joanna giggled at her aunt and turned to face the captain. “Thank you,” she said simply. He didn’t pretend not to understand what she was talking about. “My aunt really is a good cook.”

“My pleasure.” Colt looked into her eyes and wondered if this woman had ever really cared for anyone except her aunt. “I’ll be direct with you, Miss Whiddon. I don’t know if this is going to work out or not, but I’m willing to give it a try for the month. You’ll have the run of the house and I’ll try to stay out of your way as much as possible. I’ve had no chance to give my daughters lessons and it’s time they started.” His three children ran through the room and thundered up the stairs to the loft. He sighed. “I’m willing to give anything a try. Anything.”

Etta ran past them, growling like a bear, and followed the girls up the steps.

“Even taking on a tutor and her aunt?” Joanna held a tight grip on her Bible.

Colt’s grin made him look younger. “She’s something, isn’t she?”

Joanna let out a breath she felt like she’d been holding since they’d stepped off the train. “Yes, she is, but no one’s ever realized it but me. I couldn’t leave her behind.”

“I don’t think I need to warn you, this is not the place for any woman, much less an older one. Life’s not easy on the frontier.”

Joanna lay her Bible down on the room’s one table. “Life’s not easy anywhere, Captain, when you face it alone.”

Colt wondered if she was talking about herself or her aunt, and he felt suddenly embarrassed that it mattered. “Then, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got my duties. I may be gone a few days.” He nodded slightly toward the loft. “Will you be all right here?”

“Of course,” Joanna said, hoping her tone sounded more confident than she felt.

* * *

Almost a week passed before the captain walked back into his house. He’d been in the saddle for so many hours he wasn’t sure his legs would ever be straight again. The cold winter moon looked frosty in the cloudy sky as he took one last glance at the camp before opening the door to his cabin.

For a moment he just stood looking around as if he’d accidentally stepped into someone else’s house. A warm glow came from the fireplace and the air smelled of baked bread. Only Miss Whiddon’s Bible on the table assured him he was in his own quarters.

“Hello,” he whispered as he looked at the three homemade stools pulled close to the fire. The room seemed more like a home than it ever had. Dried flowers banked both sides of the mantel and pictures drawn in charcoal almost covered one wall.

“Hello?” He stepped inside and moved to the fire. Funny that he should think of this place as home. Nowhere had ever been that to him. He was born on a fort in south Texas and had grown up moving from post to post.

“Anybody here!” he yelled.

“Quiet,” someone whispered from the opening to the loft. Colt looked up as Joanna descended the steps. She was wrapped in a midnight-blue robe that hugged her neck and brushed her bare feet. He looked away trying not to think of how intimate it felt to see her in her nightclothes.

“Oh!” Joanna stopped as she reached the end of the steps. “It’s you. I thought it was the sergeant coming in with the firewood.”

“Sorry.” Colt wasn’t sorry at all, but he didn’t know what else to say. “Am I only welcome if I’m toting wood, Miss Whiddon?”

“Of course you’re welcome.” Joanna moved beside him, looking him straight in the eyes as though she’d never feared anyone in her life. “This is your house, Captain.”

At her last word squeals broke out from the loft. Suddenly voices filled the room. “Daddy!”

The girls were down the stairs and in his arms before he could say another word. They yelled and danced around him like forest elves who’d found a treasure. He hugged each one and endured wet, smacky kisses on his whiskery cheeks. Then all three talked at once in a language he had trouble understanding on the best of days.

Joanna stood back and watched this strong man with his daughters. He brushed his large hand over each one’s curls as if checking to make sure they were all well and happy. His dark eyes turned gentle as he tried to answer their endless questions. He kissed away the hurt from Johnnie’s cut finger and told the twins how grand they looked wearing his old shirts as nightgowns.

A longing appeared in the pit of Joanna’s stomach and spread all the way to her heart. She never remembered being held by her father. It seemed every day of her life, all he’d ever done was give orders or criticize her for her shortcomings. Finally he’d given one order too many.

Now she fought the urge to join the children and be hugged for no reason at all. As she watched, her heart aching, Colt looked up over the girls’ heads. For an instant she felt her soul stand bare before him, then she looked away.

“Ladies!” she shouted over the children. “Say good night to your father and go back up to bed.”

They protested until the loud slam of a door shook the room. Aunt Etta appeared in the doorway of her bedroom, her hair woven into rag curlers, her face pale with cream, and her eyes bright with fright. She looked around the room and relaxed. “Lord to goodness, girls, I thought the Indians had attacked from all the racket you were making.”

Joanna placed her hands on her hips. “They were just saying good night to their father.”

Before they could protest, Aunt Etta spoke up. “Well, get it done and up to bed.” She headed toward the stairs. “I guess I’ll have to settle you down with the story of how I was once captured by renegades and had to swim the Mississippi to escape.”

The girls kissed their father and were even with Aunt Etta by the time she was halfway up the stairs.

Colt unbuckled his gun belt and laid it across one of the stools. “I’ve never seen them go to bed so easily.” He stretched. “You’ve done wonders. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them so clean either.”

Joanna wanted to add,
Wait until you see your uniforms,
but only asked, “Would you like some stew?” The room felt suddenly quiet and empty without the children. “Aunt Etta left some warming on the back of the stove.”

“You don’t have to get it.” Colt wasn’t sure how to act around her. She wasn’t a house guest or a servant . . . or a wife.

“I don’t mind.” She disappeared into the kitchen. “I’ll sit with you while you eat so we can talk.”

Colt sank into the rocker and stretched his legs out. He leaned his head back against the cushion that had been added to the chair in his absence and closed his eyes. Stew sounded good, but he didn’t want to talk. If he could figure out a way, he knew he’d never talk to a woman for as long as he lived.

The memory of his wife drifted amid the smell of baking and home. They’d been happy those first few years. He remembered how he’d looked forward to seeing her at the end of every day. She was always full of laughter and dancing, like a little dream fairy who accidentally waltzed into the real world. But when Johnnie was born, things changed. Each night all he heard was how she hated being tied to the house with a baby all day. A year later when the twins were born, she hadn’t even waited until they were a month old before she’d left him.

A rattling drew him back to the present, but Colt didn’t open his eyes. He heard the front door open and knew from the heavy shuffle of boots who approached.

“Captain?” Buckles’s voice pulled Colt wide-awake. “Cap’n, are you asleep?”

“No.” Colt forced his exhausted body to straighten. “Not any longer.” He ran a hand through his black hair. “How were things here while I was gone?”

“Nothing happened that can’t wait till morning. I’ve mostly been helping the ladies get settled.”

“Did you order anything they might need from town?”

“Yes, sir.” Buckles dropped the wood in the pile. “They had quite a list. It may take a month or more to get some of the things.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Colt didn’t have to see his house through Joanna’s eyes to know there were things missing. Things a woman would need and probably things little girls should have. “As long as I can afford it.”

“Oh, that ain’t no problem, sir. Miss Whiddon picked up the freight bill.”

All the fatigue left Colt’s body as he stood. “She what?” He knew that freight often cost more than the original prices of the items sent. No tutor could afford to pay such a bill, especially a woman.

Sergeant Buckles backed toward the door. “Oh, don’t worry, Captain, I made sure you paid for all the supplies for the house and for the little ones. She just bought the decorations.”

Colt’s voice lowered slightly. “Decorations!”

“Now, Cap’n, I’ve been around you since your wife left, and with respect, sir, you ain’t the easiest person to tolerate at times. But that Miss Whiddon, there ain’t no saying no to that lady.”

“I think you’re exaggerating.” Colt forced his muscles to relax. “What’s this about decorations?”

Before Buckles could explain, Joanna entered the room carrying a steaming plate of stew. “I’ll tell the captain about them, Sergeant Buckles.”

Buckles was out the door, his good-byes blending with the latch falling into place.

Colt took the plate and folded back into the rocker. He watched this woman who’d invaded his house as she sat on one of the stools and stirred the fire. She seemed in no hurry to start the conversation, and for once in his life he was willing to allow time to crawl by.

Finally she looked up at him. “I can teach the girls, but they need clothes and shoes.”

Colt stared at his boots. He didn’t want to admit that he didn’t know much about what little girls needed. He’d seen that they were fed and spent many a night walking the floor with one on each shoulder when they were sick, but now they were getting older and he was lost.

“Order whatever you need.”

“I did,” Joanna answered. She looked at him directly, again, a look that told him she didn’t fear his reaction to anything.

“You’ve no need to pay the freight. I can take care of my family.”

Joanna realized she might have accidentally wounded his pride. “I only paid for freight on things I’m sending for from home. I didn’t know how much room I’d have here. I sent for my sewing machine and books.”

“But . . .” Colt didn’t know how to approach the subject of money lightly with this woman. “We haven’t even agreed on your salary.”

“I’m sure it will be fair.” Joanna stared into the fireplace. “When I left Ohio, I brought only my own money and my mother’s Bible. She died when I was twelve and Aunt Etta raised me after that.”

A hundred questions came to Colt’s mind, but he could only watch her sitting so silent and proud before him. The firelight danced in her blond hair and he found himself wondering how long the strands were when she set them free. He believed a person’s past was a book you saw one page of at a time, so he wasn’t about to pry.

He finished his stew with only the crackling of the fire and Aunt Etta’s soft voice drifting down from the loft breaking the silence. Colt couldn’t take his eyes off the woman in front of him. She stood and crossed the room with such easy grace, only her eyes giving any hint that all was not right in her world.

“Best stew I ever had,” he managed to say as he stood.

“I’ll thank Aunt Etta for you.” Joanna smiled. “She claims to have learned how to make it from a Gypsy woman.”

He smiled at her words and she thought how handsome he looked when he wasn’t acting like the fort commander.

Before she could leave, he spoke his thoughts. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Joanna looked surprised. “So am I,” she answered as she opened the door to her bedroom. “Good night, Captain.”

“Miss Whiddon?” He lifted his gun belt and walked toward her. “About the decorations.”

Her back straightened slightly and her hand whitened around the doorknob, but she didn’t lower her gaze. “The ladies have decided we’re going to have a St. Valentine’s dance a week from Saturday night, so I ordered paper to decorate.”