The Men of Pride County: The Rebel (27 page)

Miles flushed but went on doggedly despite Juliet’s look of warning. “Hard tack and soap scum are not the same as provocation to riot. Something has to be done. The Rebs need to be taken firmly in hand—not ignored as if they were naughty children. If I were in charge—”

“But you’re not, Major Dougherty, are you? That’s your main point of contention, isn’t it?”

Miles clamped his mouth shut a moment too late. His superior continued with a frosty disdain, “Last time I looked I was still wearing silver eagles. This is my post, those are my men, and I will deal with both any way I see fit. As for being soft on the Southerners, as you so oftentimes complain, I treat them with no less dignity than I do those under your command. It isn’t favoritism, it’s equality. And if you can’t handle that fact, Major Dougherty, then perhaps it’s time to do something about you.”

Realizing he’d gone too far, Miles swallowed down his pride. “I did not mean to question your authority, sir.”

“Didn’t you?”

Suddenly, Juliet remembered Noble’s suspicion. She’d dismissed his doubts as impossible, but now she was forced to reconsider.
Was Miles resentful enough of her father’s position to wish him out of the way permanently? A week ago, she would have laughed off the suggestion. But now, with her father sitting next to her, his side stitched together like a ragged seam, she couldn’t afford to casually eliminate any possibility. Therefore, Miles Dougherty, her best friend’s brother, had to be taken seriously as her father’s possible attacker.

The thought made her ill. It would have been so much easier to transfer all the doubts, all her suspicions onto Donald Bartholomew. But she no longer had the luxury of tunnel vision. She couldn’t let her personal affections influence her better judgment.

“If there’s nothing else, Miles, I’d like to finish my coffee in peace.”

Miles regarded the older man through slitted eyes. He snapped to crisp attention. “No, sir. That about covers it all.”

“You’re dismissed. I don’t expect to have you back here carrying tales unless you can substantiate them. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.” And for the first time, Juliet picked up an insubordinate cadence in both tone and attitude.

Had she misread Miles Dougherty all this time? Could he present a danger both to her father and to her? Hating the notion but unable to ignore it, she made herself follow Miles outside.

“That’s no way to endear yourself to the colonel.”

He turned to her, now clearly angry. “I’m sick of trying to endear myself to him. My record should speak for itself.”

“And it does, Miles.”

“I’ll never advance my position stuck in second slot behind that damned—begging your pardon—Reb.”

Her tone cool instead of commiserating, Juliet said, “If it’s advancement you want, perhaps you should look to a transfer.”

He blinked at her, totally surprised by both the suggestion and her lack of support. His jaw firmed into a granite line. “It’s not easy getting a transfer out here in the West. You know that, Jules. Besides, there are ways to be promoted other than abandoning the place you worked so hard to secure.”

The words sounded ominous to Juliet. Frowning, she was about to ask if he was making a threat when a commotion distracted them. A small group of Company B, escorting an exhausted older woman, had entered the fort.

“Report, sergeant.”

The weary soldier presented Miles with a salute then burst into a telling of the previous day’s events. All the homesteaders dead but one. Juliet swayed at the news. Two children captured. She closed her eyes against the horror those facts conjured up. But duty called her from her own wish to weep.

“Mrs. Stacy, you must be ready to drop. Let me offer the hospitality of my home.”

With a grateful nod, the woman allowed Juliet to lead her into the colonel’s quarters. The sergeant and Miles came behind them on their way to make a grim report to her father.

Juliet digested the news with a sinking sense of fear. Noble and the rest of the company were in pursuit of the Apache band, chasing them into Bright’s Canyon.

Did Noble have enough experience to realize he could be riding straight into a wily Indian trap?

The three Apache braves approached the fallen man cautiously. He lay sprawled and motionless in the dirt, several yards away from his thrashing animal. Their gaze cut between his outstretched hand and the rifle resting just beyond his reach. If his hand so much as twitched toward it, they were ready to fill him full of arrows. They spoke amongst themselves, arguing over who would claim the gun and the superiority it would give the owner.

Just as the first brave bent to retrieve the Spencer while his companions grumbled, one of the others toed the dead soldier with the turned-up toe of his moccasin.

He had only enough time to take a startled step back as the man flipped over onto his back to send a single pistol shot straight through his heart.

After recovering from the wind-sapping fall, Noble had known there’d be no time to find cover, not that there was any appreciable cover for miles around. He heard the fast approach of the Indian ponies and knew he had one chance and one chance only.

He’d seen his first possum while hunting with his friend Reeve Garrett when they were boys. His rifle shot had knocked it out of the tree but failed to draw blood. The hideous creature lay still on the ground, its thin lips pulled back in a deathlike snarl. It hadn’t moved as he prodded it with his rifle barrel. Reeve had warned him to be careful, but sure of himself and his aim, Noble reached down to pick up the carcass. A carcass that came alive—suddenly, startlingly alive. The possum latched onto his sleeve with its sharp teeth, requiring Reeve to beat the critter off him with a stick. That morning Noble had learned that things aren’t always as they seem.

Playing possum while three deadly hostiles stood over him was a sweat-trickling effort at control. A twitch, a deep breath, any response at all would give him away and see him as dead as his command would soon be.

Noble rolled, taking advantage of the surprise to fell the remaining two Indians just as swiftly. Then he scrambled up, and after putting the injured animal out of its suffering, limped to one of the restless Mescalero horses.
He wasted no time in vaulting astride and kicking his new mount into a full-out run.

Toward Fort Blair and a rescue he prayed wouldn’t be too late.

Chapter 20

Hearing Anne Stacy talk about the attack upon her home and the death of her husband brought back a fear in Juliet that was never far from the surface. She could still hear the terrible war cries, the thud of arrows, could taste the terror at the back of her throat. She wondered if it was the same for her father, for he was keenly focused as the attractive widow told her story.

Or was his focus because the widow was so attractive?

Jolted from her morose memories, Juliet gave her father a long, hard look. Since her mother’s death, she’d thought of him as father and soldier but not as a man—a man who might feel the same loneliness for companionship as she did. Was John Crowley being made aware of how much of life he was missing by the mere presence of the strong-willed widow?

Many times Juliet had thought about losing
her father to an Apache arrow, but never to one shot by Cupid. The idea startled, but did it threaten as well?

She glanced up at the portrait of her mother, a lovely woman with Juliet’s fair hair and determined smile. More than a dozen years had passed since she’d heard that modulated voice and had felt the warm comfort of that smile.

No, she didn’t begrudge her father future happiness, and she knew her mother wouldn’t, either.

The thought of another woman sharing his life didn’t upset her. It made her vulnerable. Since the time she was forced to hold down the household at a young age, Juliet considered herself responsible for her father’s care. As she became marriageable, she’d hidden behind that duty, using the colonel as an excuse not to venture out on her own.

In doing so, she realized with a sudden sense of guilt and shame, had she been holding him back from finding someone with whom to share himself? Could gaining the approval of a colonel’s daughter be as intimidating as winning her father’s approval was for the many young men who’d stepped up anxiously to try over the years?

Had she and her father settled in like old spinsters, content with the complacency found in their easy relationship?

Was that why Crowley was so eager to marry her off, so that he could concentrate on
his own love life while he was young enough to enjoy it?

How selfishly she’d been hoarding her father’s love for herself all these years.

She watched him with Anne Stacy and recognized him as a man hungry for the companionship of a woman, not a daughter. And at that moment, she vowed that no matter how awkward or difficult it was, she would step back and give him the room he needed to reach out to another.

Feeling strangely isolated, Juliet slipped outside into the searing heat of afternoon. Looking off into the shimmering distance, as if hoping to find some answer there, she sighed and wondered what to do.

At first, she thought the desert was playing tricks with her vision. But gradually an approaching blur became a rider, and that rider defined itself as Noble Banning.

“Papa, Major Banning is coming in alone!”

Noble dragged the pony up in front of the Crowleys’ adobe. He dismounted, his bad leg buckling. Without a thought or hesitation, Juliet slipped under his arm to support him as he faced her father with whatever news etched his features so starkly.

“The men are under attack in Bright’s Canyon. We rode right into it, sir, and they started picking us off like flies.”

“How is it that you survived to bring the news back, Banning?” Miles sneered in contempt as he approached with a handful of enlisted
men trailing. “You were in charge. They’re your men, yet here you are. Are you sure you didn’t just run scared and leave them all to die?”

“You bastard,” Noble hissed at him. “I don’t have time to explain or to deal with you now, but I will. That’s a promise. Colonel, I need a company to ride back with me. I’ve lost too many not to see the rest of them saved, if possible.”

Juliet clutched at him, wanting to cry out for him to let someone else see to his responsibilities. How could she let him go again?

“Are you up to it, Major?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Major Dougherty, assemble A Company and be ready to ride as soon as Major Banning gets some water and a fresh mount.”

The last thing Juliet wanted was to release him. With her arm about his waist, feeling his solid strength, she could convince herself that he was here, that he was safe. But the instant he stepped away, she’d lost him to his duty, a duty that might not bring him back again.

“Major,” Jane cried out, racing toward the Crowleys’ home in a flutter of pastel silk and panicked nerves. “My husband, is he all right? I have to know.”

“He took a bullet, Mrs. Howell, but he was holding his own when I left.”

Jane paled, and Juliet was quick to embrace her.

“And my Tom? Is he all right, too?”

Noble took Pauline Folley’s hands in his and looked somberly into her anxious face. The woman had followed on Jane’s heel, obviously desperate for news. There would be no kindness in delaying the truth. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We’ll try to bring him back with us.”

Pauline gave a wail and fainted. Juliet bent over the prostrate woman as Jane raced for some water.

But there was nothing either of them could really do for Pauline Folley now.

As the newly widowed woman returned to consciousness, Company A of Fort Blair was ready to ride with a worn yet determined Noble Banning at its head. Still kneeling beside Pauline, Juliet looked up at him with a gaze stripped to bare emotions. He paused long enough to give her a faint close-lipped smile before raising his hand to signal the troops forward.

The three women huddled together for mutual support and prepared themselves for the waiting.

Juliet had little time to dwell on her worries. She helped Dr. Penny ready the infirmary for an influx of patients. They prayed the returning men would be more in need of medical attention than burial details. Once everything was finished there, Juliet began doing what she could for Pauline Folley and her children.

The army made no provision for the families of men killed in the line of duty. If an officer died, his family was stripped of its home and
left to pay its own way to wherever it would go. A fine thank-you from the government for a wife’s silent support, Juliet thought grimly. So at the evening mess, Juliet started collecting funds, numbing her heart and mind to thoughts of her potential loss.

After that, she wandered about the post feeling lost and melancholy. She couldn’t get the sound of Pauline’s shrieks out of her head. Her father was dining with Mrs. Stacy. Jane was taking her turn with the Folleys. She was alone and so lonely she wanted to wail, but the sobs dammed up in her throat until the raw ache was almost more than she could bear. But the dam broke the minute she heard the sound of Companies A and B returning.

They came in slowly, tired, dirty, with Miles heading them up, but too many gaps in the ranks. Juliet’s gaze flew frantically along the single file line, desperate to catch sight of Noble, not seeing him—not seeing him—until almost the end of the column. He had a gravely injured Albert Howell doubling with him. Even as Miles reined up next to her, she was darting down the row of dusty riders, never even noticing, hurrying to where Noble Banning came to a stop at the infirmary. She was there to catch Albert as he began to slide from the saddle.

“Albert!”

Juliet stepped aside to let Jane take her place, watching anxiously as Noble helped her friend get the wounded man inside. But Juliet’s
inactivity didn’t last long. There were other wounded to see to. She directed them according to severity of injury into the available beds. Those who weren’t critical were laid out on the porch and given water by Colleen.

The longer Juliet worked beside Dr. Penny, the more faces she began to miss, some that had followed her father clear from Texas. But the only face she longed to see as she toiled far into the night hours was one thankfully absent from this scene of pain and death and the first one she saw when she reeled out of the infirmary closer to dawn than midnight, bleary-eyed with weariness and unshed tears. He stood, the movement awkward, making her wonder if he should be inside waiting his turn to see the doctor.