Laura Abbot (3 page)

“Good night, Miss Kellogg.” Then as an afterthought, he added,
“I shall look forward to sharing our opinions concerning
Paradise Lost.
”

“As shall I,” she said.

Walking toward the officers’ quarters, Caleb pondered the
if
in Tennyson’s poem
.
To
understand God and man. He longed to understand God, to find answers to his
questions. As for “man,” they were a mixed lot. As he had to admit women were,
too. Even on short acquaintance it was clear that Lily bore no resemblance to
Rebecca, the faithless woman who had broken his heart.

* * *

“In like a lion, out like a lamb,” Rose announced on the
last day of March as she and Lily made their way to the sutler’s to buy
provisions and collect the mail.

The day was warm, and wagon wheels and horses’ hooves had
churned the ground into dust that clung to their boots and the hems of their
dresses.

“We’d best enjoy days like this,” Lily observed. “Remember last
summer? I swear equatorial Africa couldn’t be any hotter. In mid-July, we will
look back on this weather with gratitude.”

Rose linked her arm with Lily’s. “Enjoy the day, this day.
God’s day.”

Lily squeezed Rose’s hand. Their mother had often uttered those
very words when her impatient daughters peppered her with questions: “When is
Papa coming home from the war?” “How long until my birthday?” And more recently,
“How are you feeling this morning, Mama?”

When they entered the store, enlisted men buying tobacco and
assorted medicinal items made way for them. Several tipped their caps, a few
ventured mumbled hellos and one insolent corporal winked leeringly. Jake Lavery,
the proprietor, beamed as they approached. “Ladies, what can I do for you?

After placing their grocery order, Lily ushered her sister to a
corner where yard goods and sewing notions were displayed. Thus removed from the
prying eyes of men, the sisters studied some newly arrived bolts of cloth.

Rose stroked a brown calico covered with sprigs of tiny yellow
flowers. “I rather fancy this for my summer dress.”

Each summer and winter, their father provided them with money
to make one serviceable gown apiece. Lily always had difficulty making up her
mind, and today was no exception. She draped a navy blue muslin across her
shoulders.

Rose shook her head. “Too drab. Try the gingham. It reminds me
of the ocean. That is, if I’d ever seen it.”

Lily unrolled a couple of yards and carrying the bolt to the
small mirror on the wall, held the gingham to her face. The color did something
magical for her eyes, tinting the usual blue with a hint of sea-green. She
turned to Rose. “I like it.”

“That was easy. I do, too. Have we need of patterns?”

Lily shook her head. “I have some ideas about adapting ones we
already have.”

“I trust you. You’re the expert seamstress.”

Mr. Lavery’s wife measured and cut the material, then wrapped
it in brown paper and tied it with string. “Come show me when you’ve finished
the gowns.” A wistful expression crossed her leathery face. Observing the
woman’s worn gray dress, Lily ached for her. Frippery was hard to come by on the
prairie where simplicity and practicality were both necessary and valued.

Lily tucked their purchases in the mesh bag they had brought
with them. Their last stop was the mail counter. “Kellogg. Anything for us?”
Rose inquired of the red-bearded postal agent, recently arrived at the fort.

“I know who you are,” the man said, as if offended that they
would identify themselves to someone with such a brilliant memory. “You’re those
girls the men are always talking about.”

Rose bristled. “I hardly think so.”

The man leaned on the counter and folded his gnarled hands,
peering at them with beady eyes. “Bet on it, miss. It’s just as well your papa
don’t hear some of what they say.”

Lily drew herself up to her full height. “Sir, our mail, if you
please.”

He grinned wolfishly, then took his time moving to the mail
slots.

“I declare,” Lily whispered to her sister. “The nerve.”

Rose took the letters from the man, uttered a huffy “thank you”
and led Lily out of the place.

“That was demeaning,” Lily said when they were out of
earshot.

“Yes, but, Lily, I imagine the men do talk of us...
you.
Think about it. They’re far from home, missing
their wives and sweethearts. And some of them are so young. Bachelors.” She
trudged on deep in thought, then added, “Don’t you see how they look at
you?”

“Me?” Lily blushed.

“Oh, there’s some that might settle for me, but you’re the
beauty.”

“Hush, Rose. Don’t you go tempting fate with that talk. ‘Pride
goeth before a fall,’ and I don’t want to be prideful.”

“You can’t pretend you don’t notice their interest. For
example, that new captain couldn’t keep his eyes off you at the Hurlburts’
dinner.” She stopped in her tracks and studied her sister. “You could do a lot
worse,” she said gently.

“I’m not husband hunting.” Lily grinned coquettishly. “At least
not until St. Louis, if that time ever comes.”

“St. Louis. A den of iniquity, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t.”

With a shrug, Rose held up the mail. “I suppose then that
you’ll be wanting to look over the letter that came today from Aunt
Lavinia.”

“Oh, do let’s hurry.” So eager was Lily to read the letter, she
didn’t notice how Rose lagged behind. Nor did she see the concern in her
sister’s eyes.

At home, scanning Aunt Lavinia’s letter before sharing it with
Rose, Lily sighed in disappointment. There was no invitation for either of them.
Just a description of Lavinia’s new Easter bonnet, the menu of a sumptuous
dinner at the home of a local politician and a recipe for an elegant
presentation of tenderloin of pork, as if they often had such a cut of meat
available.

Bent over her crocheting, Rose looked up as Lily read the final
paragraph.

“I shudder to think of you girls subjected to the cold winds and
extreme weather of the prairie. Not to mention living in a forsaken army post,
surrounded by who knows what sort of individuals. For the life of me, I cannot
understand why Ezra took you to such a place. Would that your mother had
persuaded him to abandon his army career. Well, water over the dam. I pray for
your safety and hope conditions will permit us once again to meet. Perhaps after
the miasma that is summer here along the Mississippi.

Your devoted aunt,

Lavinia”

Lily put the letter aside and sought composure by going to the
sewing cabinet to locate the pattern for Rose’s new dress. Only now in light of
Lavinia’s vague promise could she admit how much she had counted on deliverance
from this wilderness outpost. She tried to take each day as it came, but the
fierce, unpredictable spring winds tried her soul and increased her longing to
escape. At times she wanted to scream from sheer frustration.

Rose had said something, but lost in her thoughts, Lily had to
ask her to repeat it.

“Dear sister, patience.” Rose wasn’t trying to irritate her,
and, yes, patience was needed, but right now the advice rankled.

“What’s the matter with me, Rose?”

Her sister set aside her crocheting. “You really do want to
leave. It’s more than a dream, isn’t it?”

Lily sank back into her chair. “I’m so restless. Every day is
like every other day. Rose, there’s a whole world out there, and I want to be
part of it. If only I were a man, I could choose my lot and go wherever my fancy
took me.”

“I would miss you.”

Chastened, Lily hung her head. “And I you.” She had
thoughtlessly hurt her sister. The tug to home and to Rose and Papa was strong,
but so was the pull of the exciting world beyond the prairie. Why couldn’t she
lay aside these dreams that only grew more compelling with each passing day?

“Are you very disappointed? Had you thought Aunt Lavinia’s
invitation would come this soon?”

Lily looked helplessly at her sister, unable to confess the
degree to which she had counted on Aunt Lavinia to save her. “Mama wouldn’t like
me to act like this. She would say everything happens in God’s time, not
mine.”

Rose nodded as if her suspicions were confirmed. “Then leave it
to God.” She began crocheting again. “Meanwhile, I so love having you here for
company. And take heart. Aunt Lavinia didn’t rule out a visit later in the
year.”

Lily unfolded the pattern, but, disappointed by the letter and
consumed by guilt over how her departure would affect Rose, she couldn’t
concentrate on dressmaking.

* * *

Several nights later, Caleb stretched out by the
campfire, wearily resting his head on his saddle. This morning the cavalry had
caught up with a band of Kiowas secluded in a small grove of trees. The soldiers
had mounted a charge. Outmanned, the Indians had fired a few warning shots and
then, to Caleb’s relief, had fled on horseback. Since the Washita, he had no
stomach for engagement.

He understood there was no stopping the westward migration of
his own people, but at the same time he grudgingly admired the Indians, both
those who came in peace and those risking their lives for their tribal lands and
honor. Perhaps the Indians weren’t that different from the emancipated slaves
with whom he had fought in the war. Rarely had he been in battle with more
dedicated or able fighters. Yet so many of his fellows treated these so-called
“buffalo soldiers” as inferiors and made known their prejudice both with their
abusive words and their fists.

Gazing up at the infinity of stars, Caleb wondered what God
thought of the arrogant human beings He had created, so anxious to lord it over
their fellow creatures whom they deemed ignorant or savage. Were the Indians and
the former slaves that much different from himself? He suspected all any man
wanted was dignity. Yet he knew firsthand that any one of them was capable of
barbarity.

Tired of his gloomy thoughts, he withdrew a worn letter from
his pocket. Slowly he unfolded it and squinted to make out the words, although
he had already practically memorized them.

Dear brother,

Sister Sophie, Pa and I are continuing to purchase additional
acreage near Cottonwood Falls for the Montgomery cattle operation. As I’ve told
you, grazing land is lush and water is plentiful. The other settlers are
welcoming and enthusiastic for the prospects in this sparsely populated part of
southeastern Kansas.

Thank you for the monies you have sent us. Your share of the
ranch will be waiting for you when you muster out. We are all thankful that time
is fast approaching. We are adding to the herd, so with hard work, this fall
when we go to market, pray God we will see the realization of our hopes.

We likewise pray for your safety as we await the day of our
reunion.

Your affectionate brother,

Seth

Their ranch—a dream come true. Joining his father and brother
in the exciting enterprise would finally anchor him in one place. His place. A
place where money could be made. Where a family could grow and prosper. A
peaceful place.

Once before he had thought to establish a home. To live in
harmony with a woman he loved. To plan a future together. That dream,
interrupted by the outbreak of war, had sustained him through long marches and
frenzied battles. Until Rebecca’s letter, creased and soiled from its long
journey, made its way to him in the winter of 1864. It was painful, even now, to
recall her flowery words, made no less harsh by their embellishment.

It is with profound and heartfelt regret that I rue causing you
any disappointment or loss of marital expectations. It has been my greatest
endeavor to pass these uncertain days in the hope of your deliverance by a
beneficent providence. But we are all, in the end, human beings—human beings
with a need for love and companionship. So I beg your understanding and
forgiveness for informing you that on Saturday last your friend Abner and I
published the banns for our upcoming marriage.

Rebecca had, with a single blow, severed their relationship,
one he had entered into wholeheartedly and purposefully. Beyond that, Abner’s
betrayal of their boyhood friendship had cut deep. Caleb closed his eyes, the
lullaby of coyotes baying on a distant hill doing little to induce sleep. The
Garden of Eden. The tempted Eve. Caleb snorted under his breath. Rebecca had
certainly succumbed to temptation and, in the process, taught him a bitter
lesson concerning trust.

And what of Miss Lily Kellogg, the first woman since Rebecca to
interest him? Was she made of sterner, truer stuff? Did he dare acknowledge how
appealing he found her? Even for an intrepid cavalryman that was a daunting
thought. One he should not entertain, not when his hands were tainted with the
blood of innocents.

Chapter Three

C
aleb joined his fellow officers Saturday night at the tavern just a short walk from the fort. It was a rough frontier establishment, crudely built and redolent of sweat and beer. Loud, harsh voices assaulted his ears. A bar covered one wall, and in the back were several tables of serious card players. Two women, no longer young, their faces caked in makeup, sashayed among the men. Caleb didn’t drink liquor, but neither did he want to appear standoffish. Through the years, he had learned a great deal about those under his command by observing their off-duty activities. Yet such places made him uncomfortable.

“Cap!” Maloney, a cavalryman who had been with him during several engagements, waved him over. Maloney was always good for a few stories. Caleb settled into a chair at the man’s table and didn’t have long to wait for the opening line. “Did you hear the one abut the general who saw a ghost?”

While the storyteller waxed eloquent, Caleb studied the crowd. Some gambled, some ogled the ladies, others, their eyes glazed over, threw back whiskey, undoubtedly searching for oblivion. He, too, sometimes longed for oblivion, but had long ago made the decision not to drink or gamble. He’d seen firsthand what such indulgences could cost a man—in some instances, not only his dignity but his soul.

When Maloney’s story came to its hilarious conclusion, Caleb rose and headed toward the door. Passing by a table of enlisted men, he overheard the tail end of a conversation and recognized Corporal Adams as the speaker.

“...and that one’s ripe for the pickin’ and I might just be the one to harvest her.”

“In a pig’s eye,” his fellow cackled. “She’s too good for the likes of you, Miss Lily is.”

“They’s all the same beneath that flouncin’ and finery. You just wait. I’ve got my eye on her. Some dark night—”

Caleb jerked the man to his feet. “You’ll do no such thing, Adams, or I’ll have you on report so fast it will seem like a cyclone hit you.” It took all of Caleb’s will to refrain from hitting the man in his obscene mouth.

Sniveling, Adams looked up at him through bleary eyes, his mouth stained with chewing tobacco. “’Twas just talk.”

“You make sure of that or you’ll deal with me.” Caleb thrust the man back in his seat and glared at him to be sure he understood.

“Mighty protective, aren’t you?” the corporal mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothin’.” Then he added, “Sir,” as if that would vindicate him.

“Change the subject, then,” Caleb said before striding out into the night, fists clenched at his side. This wasn’t the first man Caleb had heard talking about Lily, but most were respectful. Adams was a sneak, and Caleb hoped he was all talk, but based on his history with the corporal, he wasn’t so sure.

Walking back to his quarters, he wondered if he would have reacted so strongly had it been just any woman under discussion. He hoped so. But the mere suggestion of such a creature touching Lily Kellogg made his blood boil.

* * *

The much-anticipated spring band concert was a break from the monotony of life at the fort. This particular evening featured two fiddlers, a banjo player and a wizened harmonica player. Benches had been set up in the commissary, and the officers’ wives and daughters had prepared cookies and tea for a social following the musicale.

Major and Mrs. Hurlburt sat in the front row. Effie gestured to Ezra to bring Rose and Lily and join them. There was a stir of anticipation as the musicians took their places. The band performed old folk tunes as well as more recent camp songs. Early on, some of the enlisted men began clapping in time to the beat, and for an hour, all thoughts of danger and homesickness were suspended.

Lily was aware of the bachelor officers sitting in the row behind her, their buttons brightly polished, their gloved hands resting on their knees. Since the arrival of Aunt Lavinia’s letter a couple of weeks ago, Lily had been pondering her future. Was it unrealistic to consider another world—one of sophistication, intelligent discourse and high fashion? Rose had urged her to encourage Captain Montgomery, yet it would be hypocritical to lead him on. Attractive as he was, her favorable impressions of the man were surely skewed by the limited world of Fort Larned.

At the conclusion of the concert, the musicians bowed to enthusiastic applause and then asked the audience to join them in singing “Aura Lee.” Behind her, Lily heard a rich baritone voice and discovered when she stood to leave that the singer who had pierced her heart was Captain Montgomery.

Effie shoved her way between Rose and Lily and grabbed the captain by the arm. “Rose and I are helping serve the tea, but perhaps you could get some refreshments for this young lady.” She nodded at Lily.

“My pleasure,” the captain said, following the major’s wife to the food table to comply with her request. Before Rose moved off to join Effie, she poked Lily in the ribs and whispered, “It won’t hurt you to flirt a bit.” When Lily glared at her, Rose affected wide-eyed innocence and added, “Consider it a rehearsal for your assault on St. Louis beaux.”

Juggling two cups and a plate of cookies, Captain Montgomery returned to Lily. Most of the crowd had gone outside to eat, but he set the refreshments on a bench. “Shall we stay here?”

She looked around, flustered to see how few concert-goers remained. “This is fine,” she said, sinking onto the bench.

He handed her a cup, then made a toasting gesture with his own. “To you,” he said quietly.

“Whatever for?”

He smiled. “For gracing this place with beauty and gentleness. Most of us have lived with men for far too long. You are a breath of fresh air.”

The compliment both flattered and disturbed her. “Sir, I think you give me too much credit. I would suggest it is easy to say such things when, by your own admission, you have been long deprived of feminine companionship.”

“Do you think me so devoid of discernment that I am drawn to just any woman?”

Drawn?
He was drawn? How to answer such a question? “Forgive me, Captain. Of course, you must know your own mind.”

“As I believe you must know yours. From what the men tell me, you are a fair, but demanding taskmistress—is there such a word?—among your patients.”

“A hospital is not the place for indecisiveness or the encouragement of malingerers.”

“Although one might not blame them for preferring your company to that of a drill sergeant.”

“I assure you there are times in that environment when I bear a closer resemblance to a drill sergeant than a docile maid.”

“From what I’ve seen of you,
docile
isn’t a word that comes readily to mind.”

She couldn’t help herself. She chuckled. “What word
does
come to mind?”

He leaned back as if to study her. “Perhaps
curious.
Or maybe
determined.
”

“And what led you to such conclusions?”

“Your interest in medicine, your passion for that which interests you, whether it is nursing or literature. I suspect there is more going on in that head of yours than meets the eye.”

“You, sir, are a keen observer. I shall have to watch my
p’s
and
q’s.
”

He set down his cup. “Would it be presumptuous to ask you to call me by my Christian name?”

Lily was flustered. This conversation was moving beyond her powers to control it. “You have me at a disadvantage, Captain. Are we to become friends, then?”

“That is my intent, especially as we are both book lovers.”

“Then, as friends—” she leaned forward by way of emphasis “—in informal situations, I will call you Caleb.”

“Good.” He hesitated as if hearing his name echo. “Would you object to saying it again?”

She looked at him quizzically, then softly repeated, “Caleb.”

“Thank you. It has been many months since I have heard my name uttered by a lovely woman. And, then, only by my sister, Sophie.”

Unaccountably, Lily felt her eyes moisten. She had never considered how a soldier might miss simple feminine interactions or long for a soft, endearing voice. Casting about for a safer topic, she said, “Tell me about your sister.”

He stood. “Perhaps we could take a turn around the parade ground while I relate some Sophie stories.” He held out his hand to assist her to rise.

Tucking her arm through his, she was startled by a sensation very like happiness. Surely, she told herself, it was the beauty of the spring night rather than her companion that provoked such an emotion.

On their walk, she discovered that he was a gifted raconteur. His mother had died giving birth to Sophie, and he obviously doted on his younger sister, a tomboy of the first magnitude. His tales of her cutting off her long hair when she was ten in order to look more like a boy and wading into the river to noodle for catfish were both humorous and poignant. He painted a vivid picture of his sister’s flyaway curly red hair and ended by saying, “Sophie possesses a mind of her own, but she has a generous heart.”

“I think I’d like her,” Lily said, full of admiration for the independent young woman who dared to live beyond the conventional.

Caleb faced her. “She would like you.” He clasped her hand between his own. “
I
like you.”

“Captain—”

“Caleb, please.”

“Caleb, I don’t know what to say.”

He snugged her hand beneath his arm and started walking slowly toward her home. “You don’t need to say anything.”

She decided silence was the best course lest she offer any more encouragement than, inadvertently, she may have already given. As they walked, an awkwardness seemed to develop where earlier there had been camaraderie. She could ask him about the mother he had lost, but they were nearing the hospital. Perhaps another time.
Did she want another time?

At her door, he gently disengaged his arm and faced her. “Miss Lily, I pray I have not overstepped my bounds.”

Again, she was at a loss for words. “It’s late, Captain. It’s best to say good-night.” When his eyes clouded, she took pity on him. “Until we meet again, Caleb.” She liked saying his strong, masculine name.

“Good night, Miss Lily.” As if remembering his manners, he added stiffly, “Thank you for a pleasant evening.”

Inside the house, she leaned against the closed door, bewildered. He had shown signs of his interest in her, but in the past few minutes had seemed to retreat into formality. She had enjoyed his company more than she cared to admit. That concerned her. She would need to steel herself and not let her fickle emotions sidetrack her plans.

When Lily entered the bedroom she shared with Rose, her sister was just finishing plaiting her long reddish-blond hair. The light from the candle on the bedside table cast an intimate glow. Lily loosened her buttons, plucked her nightgown from its hook and prepared for bed. Rose watched her, a smug smile playing about her lips. “Well?” she finally said. “How did you find your Captain Montgomery?”

“He’s not mine,” Lily said decisively, taking the pins out of her hair and beginning her ritual one-hundred brush strokes. Knowing that those three words would not satisfy her sister, she went on. “Like many of our officers, he is lonely. I provided a temporary diversion, no doubt.”

Rose hooted. “Are you blind? The way he looked at you was special.”

“He can look all he wants, but I will not encourage him. He would only be a distraction in my life.”

“The life that’s taking you to St. Louis?”

Lily set down her brush and put her hands on Rose’s shoulders. “I’m sorry it’s difficult for you to understand, but I have to be true to myself.”

Rose reached up and clasped Lily’s hands. “I know. Papa and I have realized for some time that this place is too confining for your spirit.” She bowed her head, whispering so quietly Lily had to bend closer to hear her. “But it is so hard to let you go.” Rose looked straight into Lily’s eyes. “I suppose I had hoped that if you married an army officer, our paths would cross now and again. And of the lot, Captain Montgomery seems a good man—a man who would cherish you or whomever else he chose.”

“It is a fine thing to be cherished. Pray that I may find such a suitor in the city.”

“I cannot honor your request. I will pray for you, of course, but for your well-being, happiness and the fulfillment of God’s purpose for you, wherever you may be.”

Lily embraced her sister, so good and true. Then she blew out the candle, and they curled into the depths of the feather bed they had shared since childhood. Soon she could hear her sister’s gentle exhalations, but sleep eluded Lily. She lay awake for some time, not thinking so much about St. Louis as remembering the name
Caleb
and how he had needed to hear it spoken.

She turned on her side and shortly before falling asleep whispered to the shadows, “Dear God, why can’t life be simple?”

* * *

When Caleb entered his quarters, Will Creekmore was sitting at the desk writing a letter by lantern light. “Did you enjoy the concert?”

Caleb stripped off his gloves and jacket and tossed them on a chair. “It was a welcome morale boost. Routine drills get mighty boring for the men.”

“And for us.”

Caleb noticed a daguerreotype sitting on the desk. He pointed to it. “Your family?”

The lieutenant picked it up and gazed at it fondly. “No. Fannie, my sweetheart back in Wisconsin.” He hesitated and then added, “She’s been waiting a long time. I’m asking her to come here. To be married. But it’s far from her home. I don’t know if...” He sighed. “All I can do is ask, though I do hate to inflict such a long journey on her.”

“It’s a lonely life out here. For your sake, I hope she says yes.”

“Speaking of the ladies, how was your evening with Miss Kellogg? I couldn’t help noticing how you favored her.”

In the confusion of his feelings, Caleb didn’t want to discuss Lily, but neither did he want to be rude. “She is a delightful young woman.”

His fellow officer speared him with a look. “Whose company you enjoy.”

Caleb shrugged helplessly, wishing he had done a better job of resisting Miss Kellogg’s charms.