Lone Star 03 (8 page)

Farnam did not have the look of a man skilled in dissimulation, her thoughts ran on, nor did he behave like one. But dinner and a few carefully phrased but seemingly casual questions should give her the answers she was seeking.

A small smile playing on her lips, Jessie took a bar of soap, a clean washcloth, and a small silver flask of cologne from her saddlebags. Standing up, she poured water into the washbowl. When Lieutenant Farnam rapped lightly at her door ten minutes later, she was ready to step out and greet him with a smile.

“It's very kind of you to accommodate a total stranger who appeared without any notice,” she told him as they walked the few steps along the veranda to his quarters.

“You're the one who's being kind, Miss Starbuck. I've been getting bored with my own company for the past several days.”

Before Jessie could comment, Farnam opened the door to his quarters and stood aside for her to enter. The room was half office, half living room; a second door, in the center of the wall at right angles to the entrance, stood ajar, indicating to Jessie that the fort's commander had more than a single room. A table stood in the room's center, bearing place-settings and a steaming tureen. Farnam seated Jessie and took his place across from her.

“I suspect that some of the troopers have been violating standing orders by using military ammunition for hunting,” he said with a smile. “At any rate, we're having rabbit stew.”

For the first few minutes after Famam had served their plates, they ate in silence; Jessie found the stew surprisingly good. After the edge had been taken off their appetites, she asked, “Are you the only commissioned officer at the fort, Lieutenant Farnam? I thought there were enough men here to require several officers.”

“There are,” he replied. “But both of my second lieutenants are out with patrols, and have been for the past week. It's possible that they won't return for another week, perhaps longer. Since regulations don't permit me to eat with the enlisted men unless we're in the field, I've had to dine alone.”

Given the opening Farnam had just provided, Jessie chose to ask at once the question that had popped into her mind, instead of making polite chitchat.

She said, “Two patrols out at once? Isn't that somewhat unusual, when you have so few men on duty here?”

“Regulations again, Miss Starbuck. I'm required to see that each enlisted man and officer spends a prescribed number of days on patrol duty.”

 

 

“I see. It occurred to me that the patrols might have some connection with the rustlers from Mexico that stole a large herd of cattle from one of my neighbors about two weeks ago.”

“You're referring to Mr. Bradford Close's Box Branch?”

“Yes. Brad's a good neighbor of mine. When he told me—”

Farnam's lips had been slowly compressing as Jessie spoke. Now he interrupted angrily. “Miss Starbuck, I understand that you ranchers stick together. But the army doesn't like spies who sneak into its forts under false pretenses, even when there's no war going on! And from what I gather, you're here to spy!”

Jessie stared in undisguised astonishment at the lieutenant. Before she could decide what to say in reply to his outburst, Farnam recovered his poise.

“I'm sorry, Miss Starbuck,” he said contritely. “That was uncalled for on my part. Please accept my apologies.”

“I'm not sure that I want to, Lieutenant Farnam,” Jessie told him levelly, keeping both surprise and anger from her voice. “All I can think of is that you must be something more than bored by the enforced seclusion you mentioned a few minutes ago.”

“I'll admit my nerves are a bit on edge,” Farnam said. “More so than I realized, I suppose. I do apologize, quite humbly and very sincerely.”

Jessie pressed her advantage. “Don't you think I'm entitled to an explanation for what you just said?”

“Yes, you are,” Farnam replied promptly. “But I'm not sure that I can give you one.”

“I'm afraid I don't understand, Lieutenant.”

“I—” Farnam began, then stopped short. He gestured at the dinner table. “Do you care for anything more, Miss Starbuck? I think I've lost my appetite.”

“I've had quite enough, thank you,” Jessie answered. She took her napkin from her lap, folded it and placed it on the table, and made a move to stand up.

“No, no,” Famam protested. “I don't want you to end the evening until I've made amends for my unfortunate remarks. I think a glass of brandy might help settle my nerves, and I was hoping you'd like one, too.”

Not really wanting to leave, anxious to ask Farnam still more questions while his mind was preoccupied with something else, Jessie told him, “I'd enjoy a bit of brandy, and if it will settle your nerves to the point where you can give me an explanation for your accusation, I'll stay and have one with you.”

“Thank you.” Farnam went to a small cellarette that stood in a corner of the room. He said, “I'm afraid that all I can offer you is Otard. The finer French liquors don't get to this part of the world.”

“Otard will be very satisfactory,” Jessie replied. She made a move to get up, and Lieutenant Farnam hurried to pull her chair back from the table.

“We can have our brandy on the veranda,” he suggested. “I might find it a bit easier to talk outside. This room”—he waved at its bareness—“may have something to do with my state of mind.”

“If you'd prefer that,” she answered, her voice cool and unsympathetic.

Farnam moved chairs out to the narrow veranda. The moon was high now, and full, its glow softening the harshness of the terrain visible from the veranda. Farnam poured brandy into glasses and offered one of them to Jessie. When he turned his back to her to pick up his drink, Jessie saw him empty the glass in a single gulp and refill it quickly. She looked out across the fort's grounds at the glowing windows of the barracks, and was still watching them when Farnam turned around.

“It is better out here, isn't it?” he asked.

Jessie turned back to face him as he struck a match to light his cigar. In the flickering of the match, Jessie saw that his face bore a worried frown.

“Yes. It's quite pleasant in the moonlight.”

“Too bad things don't look the same in daylight,” Farnam said. His voice was harsh. He drained his glass as quickly as he'd gulped the first, then stepped back to the table and filled it again. Then he came back to the chair and sat down facing Jessie. She said nothing, but took a sip of brandy, her eyes still focused on the fort's moonlit grounds.

They sat silently for a few moments before Farnam said, “I'm not quite sure what caused me to blurt out the totally uncalled-for remark for which I've already apologized, Miss Starbuck, but during the past two weeks I've been under something of a strain.”

“I think I understand the feeling, Lieutenant,” Jessie said. Then, to bring the discussion to a point quickly, she went on, “Luckily, my father prepared me to face the fact that being in command of anything, whether it's a business enterprise or a ranch, or anything involving a number of individuals, requires an ability to set aside facts that might be personally unpleasant and come to grips with hard realities.”

“Your father and mine must be quite different sorts of men, then,” Farnam remarked. Though he tried to make his comment sound casual, Jessie detected a bitterness in his voice.

“My father's dead, Lieutenant,” Jessie said quietly. “I've been managing the Starbuck enterprises myself for some time.”

“I see,” Farnam said. In the glow of his cigar tip, Jessie watched his face knitting into a frown. He no longer tried to conceal the bitterness in his words as he went on, “It sounds harsh when I put it into words, but I sometimes wish my father were dead, too. Then I'd be relieved of the constant pressure I'm under to give up my army career and join him in his business operations, for which I have no liking at all.”

Jessie suppressed her urge to start asking questions at once. Instead, she sipped her brandy and, in a manner that suggested sympathy rather than curiosity, said, “Sometimes it helps to talk about problems with strangers, Lieutenant.”

“I don't want to spoil your evening by boring you with my personal problems, Miss Starbuck.” Farnam paused, then added, “But if you wouldn't mind... you understand, this is something I can't even mention to anyone on the post.”

“Of course I understand,” Jessie assured him in a carefully neutral tone. “And if it'll help you, I'll be glad to listen.”

Chapter 6

Lieutenant Farnam took his time in beginning. He went to the small table where the brandy bottle stood, and after Jessie had shaken her head in response to his wordless offer to refill her glass, he poured into his own before returning to sit down.

“I'm sure you've already gathered from my remarks that only part of the strain I was referring to a moment ago is connected with my position as commander here at Fort Chaplin.” He paused for several seconds before going on, “You know, Miss Starbuck, at the Point we were taught the meaning of what our instructors called ‘command decisions,' which involve leading men, sending them into danger. Unfortunately I didn't get this kind of education from my father on making my own personal decisions.”

“And your family ties are getting strained, with you so far from home?”

“I suppose that's as good a way as any to put it,” Farnam said. “You're quick to grasp a point, Miss Starbuck. But you're quite right. You see, Father didn't approve at all of my ambition to make a career in the army. He wanted me to follow him in taking charge of the family's business affairs.”

Jessie was not one to let pass such an inviting opportunity to confirm her initial suspicion regarding the senior Farnam's connection with the cartel. She asked, “Just what is your father's business, Lieutenant?”

“Oh, Father's involved in several fields,” Farnam answered. “Felt and textile mills, a factory or two, mining, railroads. But a life in the business world never appealed to me. As long as I can remember, all I've been interested in is the army.”

Jessie felt frustrated; Farnam's disclaimer did not coincide with the mental picture she'd been painting. However, she was sure that, thanks to Alex Starbuck's careful tutoring, she was able to distinguish between truth and lies. She said, “So you disregarded your father's wishes and made the army your career?”

“Yes. Not without some open unpleasantness, of course. But Father never did approve. One of the reasons I asked to be stationed here on the Rio Grande was to get as far away from home as possible.”

“Where is home, Lieutenant Farnam?”

“Boston.”

Though she'd been sure for several minutes that her guesses about Farnam's parentage had been correct, Jessie considered his reply a final confirmation. She dismissed the subject by saying lightly, “You're about as far from there as you can get and still stay in the United States.”

“That was my idea. But the mail can still reach me here.”

“You've been getting letters recently, I take it?”

“Constantly. Two or three in every mail delivery—which is once every two weeks, thanks to the size of the state of Texas.”

“It should be easy enough for you to hold your own, Lieutenant Farnam.”

“You don't know my father, Miss Starbuck. He can be very emphatic. Lately he's lost patience. Now he's beginning to hint that if I don't do what he wants me to, he'll use his connections in Washington to hinder my army career.”

“Would he do that to his own son?”

“Yes. I'm sure he would. I know my father that well.”

“Well.” Jessie sat silently after the one thoughtful word, then she said, “I can understand your nervous strain now, Lieutenant Farnam. I accept your apology. Suppose we forget that the little incident ever happened and start over, as friends. And to begin with, you might try calling me Jessie.”

“You're really serious, aren't you?” Farnam asked, his voice much lighter. “Thank you, Miss ... Jessie. My name's Joseph, but my friends call me Joe, as you might expect.”

“We're in agreement, then, Joe.” Jessie raised her glass, which was still half full. “To friendship.”

“To friendship,” Farnam repeated. After they'd sipped their brandy, he said, “I'm not completely naive, Jessie. You must have had a reason for stopping here, and I have an idea you came to talk about the rustlers that stripped the Box Branch.”

Jessie decided it was time to come to the point. “Yes. Brad Close stopped by my ranch several days ago. He was returning from the fort, and he told me about the new army regulations that bar you from helping ranchers—or any other civilians, I suppose—unless there's a war or an invasion.”