The Lieutenant's Bargain Read online

  But they weren’t outlaws coming toward her. It was even worse.

  They were Indians.

  Chapter Two

  FORT RENO

  CHEYENNE AND ARAPAHO RESERVATION, INDIAN TERRITORY

  Lieutenant Jack Hennessey buttoned the last of the shiny buttons on his dress uniform. Today was his commander’s wedding, and they couldn’t be late. Finally, Major Daniel Adams was marrying the woman he’d fallen in love with—who also happened to be the governess he’d hired to teach his daughters. Finally, all the sentimental arrangements would be complete, and the fort could return to its daily routines.

  “I forgot my gloves,” Daniel called from the spare room next to Jack’s. “I’m going next door to get them.”

  Another excuse? Jack stepped into the hall to intercept the major. “For the hundredth time, you can’t see the bride before the ceremony. Settle down.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one getting married today.”

  No. He wasn’t.

  “I’ll get your gloves for you once I’m ready. Until then, you stay put. And no peeking out the windows, either.” It was fun bossing around his commander for a change. Not that he didn’t frequently share his opinion with Major Adams, but today the major had to listen to him. Jack took his belt and gloves off the stack of books that balanced on his nightstand.

  Major Adams was one lucky man to have found a wife. Women didn’t just appear out on the prairie very often, and definitely not ones as fetching as Miss Bell. Who cared if she had faked being a governess? It showed she had imagination. And Major Adams had been able to overlook her lack of qualifications once he looked her over.

  Jack smiled at himself in the mirror. He was happy for them. He was. How could he be jealous when the only girl he’d ever carried a torch for probably didn’t remember that he existed?

  He’d done his best back when they were in school. He’d looked for every opportunity to assist her, even spying in the teacher’s gradebook to see what subjects she might need his help with. He’d complimented her on her drawings and showed her any illustrations he came across in his books. He’d nearly lost his head the day she’d asked to borrow his copy of Peter Parley’s Wonders of the Earth, Sea, and Sky so she could try to replicate a drawing. Then she’d forgotten to return it, and he’d never had the nerve to remind her.

  Jack buckled his belt. What a timid child he’d been, studious and awkward. Joining the cavalry had toughened him up, although it probably hadn’t improved his skills with the ladies. What he’d found instead was an outlet for his academic pursuits. His studies with the local Arapaho tribe had earned him commendations, and his work to promote the Darlington school for Arapaho students was showing progress. But as much as the army had changed him, it hadn’t been able to erase his sentimental streak. No one quite measured up to the memory of his charming childhood sweetheart.

  So good for Major Adams, and good for Miss Bell. Today promised to be quite a celebration. Louisa Bell, former saloon singer, knew a thing or two about productions, and she’d planned this one down to the last detail. The fort’s chapel had been stacked with evergreen branches, and if the musicians could breathe through all the pine scent, there’d be music performed for hours. As Major Adams’s best friend, as well as the one who introduced the happy couple, Jack was ready to celebrate along with them.

  It was almost time. He went into the hall again and found Major Adams pacing. “I can’t find the ring,” he said. “I left it in my boot last night, but it wasn’t there this morning.”

  “No ring, no wedding. Miss Bell is going to be heartbroken.” Jack shrugged. Then, seeing the stricken look on his friend’s face, he fished the ring out of his pocket. “You gave it to me for safekeeping.”

  “I did? I don’t remember.”

  “You said something about my house being full of clutter and it going missing.”

  “I’m never this distracted before a campaign.” Major Adams took the ring and slid it on his pinky finger. “I won’t lose it again.”

  “Another half hour, and then Miss Louisa won’t let it out of her sight for the rest of her life,” Jack said. Or at least that was how he’d imagined his bride would behave, and in all his imaginations, the future Mrs. Hennessey looked an awful lot like the girl he’d left back at home.

  Someone was pounding on his door.

  “It’s time?” Major Adams looked slightly ill as they hurried down the stairs.

  But it wasn’t the parson at the door; it was Sergeant Byrd, his mustache waxed straight-out horizontal for the special occasion.

  “Major Adams.” He saluted. “I’ve got a message from Chief Right Hand. We’ve got trouble.”

  Jack stepped forward. “I’ll handle it, Byrd. Major Adams is a mite busy today.”

  “I figured Major Adams would send you to do it anyway,” Byrd said. “Just keeping the chain of command.”

  “What’s the message?” Major Adams asked, his nerves settled by the thought of a military challenge.

  “There’s been a stagecoach robbery. The Arapaho found the tracks of the stagecoach and the bodies of two passengers, one of them Agent Gibson. Looks like he put up a fight, but he’s dead, and there’s no sign of the funds he was bringing in. That gold was due to the Cheyenne and Arapaho. If it’s missing, we’ve got a humdinger of a problem on our hands.”

  Both Daniel and Jack digested the news in silence. Jack rubbed the back of his neck. Why today, of all days? A bridegroom shouldn’t go to the altar with these worries on his mind.

  “Does the chief know the money was on that stage?” Major Adams asked.

  “No, sir. They told me the name of the victim, and I surmised the rest.”

  “Let’s keep news of the payment confidential,” the major said. “In the meantime—”

  “I’ll take care of it, sir,” Jack said. “You don’t think twice about it.”

  “It’s my job.”

  “It’s your wedding day. Leave it to me.” Turning to Byrd, Jack said, “I’ll get a small force together to retrieve the bodies. I suppose it can wait until after the ceremony, though. No hurry now.”

  “Actually, according to Chief Right Hand, there is an emergency. There was a survivor. A white woman from the coach.”

  Jack’s throat tightened. “A survivor. Who has her?” His fingers clutched the handle of his saber. The Cheyenne had a dark history with captives. If they mistreated another, all the progress they’d made would be pointless. The army would show no mercy, and Jack dearly wanted there to be mercy.

  “Don’t worry. She’s with the Arapaho, but they asked that we hurry.”

  “Chief Right Hand said to hurry? She must be anxious to be rescued.”

  “It’s not her that’s anxious. It’s the Indians.”

  The flap of the tepee opened, exposing Hattie as she frantically dug against the side of the wall. She spun around and huddled over the pile of fresh dirt, trying to hide her progress from the gray-haired woman wrapped in blankets, but the old woman wasn’t fooled. Although Hattie didn’t understand her words, she knew that a guard would now be stationed at the back of the abode in addition to the one at the door. Her chances for escape were dwindling.

  She should have fought longer, run faster, but the Indians had overpowered her and brought her back to their village. Now she was their captive, and the Lord only knew what they had planned for her.

  The woman approached with a steaming bowl in her aged hands. Why were they doing this? Were they trying to poison Hattie? The first time the woman had entered, she’d acted sympathetic, but after Hattie had refused the bowl of clotted milk, the woman didn’t hide her disdain any longer. This time she spoke sharply, motioning with the bowl and pointing at Hattie.

  Hattie’s chin quivered. The stew smelled so good. Seeing her resolve slip, the woman’s eyes softened. Her voice grew more pleading, even though Hattie couldn’t understand the words.

  Her tears started again. How long could she hold out? Did
anyone even know where she was?

  The woman pushed the bowl of stew at her and covered Hattie’s pale hands with her own dark, wrinkled ones. Hattie’s stomach growled. She’d heard stories about captives. Knowing her propensity for nightmares, her big brother used to tell her terrifying tales of torture and cannibalism that would keep her sleepless for weeks. She knew it was only a matter of time before the Indians tied her to a stake and began filleting her. They were probably fattening her up.

  She looked at the stew again, chunks of meat with some sort of grain floating in thick juice. She wasn’t strong enough to resist. She was on the verge of giving in.

  “No!” Hattie would not give in to weakness. She hurled the bowl of stew against the slanted wall of the tepee, splattering food everywhere. After surviving what she’d been through, she wasn’t going to succumb to hunger, but she’d only been here two days and already she was growing weak. Time was running out.

  Pushing past the woman, Hattie made a dash for freedom. She burst through the flap and into the bright sunshine. The men squatting next to the tepee looked surprised. A dog tucked its tail and scurried away. Hattie fled, but no matter how she pumped her arms, she couldn’t run fast enough. Footsteps behind her. Shouts. Then something knocked her to the ground like a sack of grain. She tried to kick free, but the man had her legs pinned. She dropped her forehead to the ground as all hope drained away.

  She was jerked to her feet as the Indian woman approached, then forced back to her prison. The woman had grabbed a smooth wooden staff along the way and shook it in Hattie’s face, scolding and lecturing as they made their way through the village to the tepee. Hattie’s stomach grumbled as the scent of the spilled stew greeted her inside. Angry voices continued around her as she huddled on a pile of buffalo hides and tried to block them all out.

  If only she’d never taken this trip. But then she remembered what awaited her at home, and she dropped her head onto the shaggy pile of blankets. Once her parents heard what had happened, they’d never let her out of their sight . . . if they ever saw her again.

  Chapter Three

  Jack had heard the vows in the chapel while Sergeant Major O’Hare prepared a unit to ride. Then, knowing that time was of the essence, Jack skipped the wedding cake and punch and took out on the prairie, following his silent guides to the Arapaho village.

  It was hard to imagine that Agent Gibson was gone. Jack wouldn’t have considered him a friend, but his life was worth more than the gold he was carrying. Had someone known about the shipment? Was the stagecoach targeted? If the Bureau of Indian Affairs had asked, Major Adams would have sent troopers to escort the coach, but perhaps they’d thought secrecy was a better defense. Unfortunately, their miscalculation had been tragic.

  Other questions taunted Jack as his horse carried him across the frozen buffalo grass. Who was the woman? Agent Gibson’s wife? How many other passengers were on board? The stagecoach company had been wired, but they hadn’t responded with their passenger list yet. There could be more victims who hadn’t been recovered.

  Hours later, the sharp tepees appeared on the riverbank. This time of year especially, they reminded Jack of a group of Christmas trees covered in snow. The paths between the tepees were empty with everyone staying snug inside, which was exactly what Jack should have been doing as soon as the wedding celebration had ended. But as much as a mug of coffee and a good book by the fire appealed to him, coming to the aid of a victim in his territory would always be more rewarding.

  Coyote, his escort and interpreter, pointed to a boy coming out of a tepee. “This is the chief’s nephew.”

  The boy looked surprised to hear Jack’s greeting in his own tongue, and Jack was surprised to understand his answer. His study with Coyote and Ben Clark, the peerless scout, was paying off. Major Adams had recommended that Jack make this trip without the interpreter, but Jack wasn’t ready. Soon he hoped to be able to converse without relying on help, but with such important matters to discuss, accuracy was too important to wager on his uncertain skill.

  “This way to the council tent.” The boy waved his hand in front of them. Jack followed before Coyote had a chance to translate. So far, so good. But when he ducked through the opening of the tepee, he knew he’d have to ask for help.

  The woman looked to be in her seventies, her dark skin lined like a trail map, while her sinewy body remained unbent by the years. With her hands flapping and her eyes flashing, she was giving the stately chief what for. Her long gray braids showed that she remembered the days when Chief Right Hand was strapped to a cradleboard, and she wouldn’t hesitate to speak her mind in his presence. Which was precisely what she was doing.

  Chief Right Hand stood with arms crossed, only nodding occasionally as the woman’s words came even more quickly. His smooth face remained motionless despite her antics. Suddenly she held her arms up and mimicked someone dumping something on the ground. Jack’s Arapaho was coming along, but he couldn’t catch much at this speed.

  “What’s going on?” he asked Coyote.

  Coyote managed to get a question spoken through the woman’s tirade. When she turned to answer, she pointed at Jack, then raised her fists to the sky. He couldn’t tell whether she was pleased or angry to see him.

  “She’s having trouble with the woman they brought in,” Coyote explained. “She told the chief that they should’ve left her out to freeze to death, because that’s what she wants. They have to watch her night and day to keep her from running away. And she refuses to eat.”

  That was odd. In all of Jack’s dealings with the Arapaho, they’d always treated their guests well. “Is there something going on that I don’t know about?” he asked Coyote.

  “Nothing has changed since the last council. They are still listening to you about the school, although they are getting anxious for the payment that is due.” Then, seeing the chief was ready to speak, Coyote motioned Jack closer.

  Jack greeted the chief in his own language but was afraid to go any further, lest he make a mistake. Someday, he promised himself. Someday he’d be as fluent in Arapaho as Coyote was in English. Then the interpreter wouldn’t be necessary.

  “Earlier this week, I visited the Darlington school,” Jack said. “Your children are kept warm and are fed well. I only wish more of them were enrolled.”

  “It’s hard to part with our children,” Chief Right Hand said. “The village is sad without them.”

  “I understand—” Jack said.

  “No, you don’t.” Coyote winced at interrupting Jack but had to continue to keep up with the chief. “You do not have children. You have no wife, yet you want to tell us how to be fathers. First, the lieutenant should learn something about being a man.”

  The chief knew how to cut a fellow to the marrow, but the military had taught Jack to curb his blunt tongue. “What you say is true,” Jack said. “I don’t have a family of my own, but I’ve seen how beneficial the school can be for your children. They will learn to read and write in English. They will learn how to farm or learn a trade. We believe that the Indian students are every bit as clever as the white students. They just need a chance to prove it. And Darlington is on the reservation. You can visit them whenever you like.”

  The chief gazed at his nephew, a handsome boy with proud shoulders and quick eyes. “You’re my friend,” Chief Right Hand said. “You want to help, but you don’t understand the protection a man has for his family. Let our children live in a tall brick house without their tribe, with no one who understands their ways? It’s a hard thing you’re asking us to do.”

  Jack could appreciate that. The very reason Major Adams had hired a governess in the first place was that he didn’t want his daughters shipped off to their grandmother’s to be educated. When Jack became a father—if he became a father—he could imagine himself feeling the same. And yet whatever was best for your kids, that was what you did, right?

  “It is hard. And I have the highest respect for your ways. The courage and resili
ence of your people will make you successful. We just have to figure out how to fit you into the world without destroying what’s important to you.”

  Coyote stood silent as the chief had a conversation with his men. Then he spoke to Jack again. “My men are ready to take your soldiers to where the stagecoach is. We left the bodies alone, but we studied the tracks that the bandit left. Only one rider. He headed east.”

  Only one? He must be an ambitious sort to take on a stagecoach driver and passengers alone. And lucky to have picked a coach carrying so much gold. “What about the survivor?” Jack asked.

  “She has caused much trouble. We’ve tried to help her—Spotted Hawk made her stew and brought her blankets—but she acts like a madwoman. Unreasonable.”

  Which wasn’t unexpected in a woman, Jack figured. Especially after surviving a stagecoach robbery. An ambulance had been dispatched as he left the fort and would catch up later in the day. The last thing Jack needed was a hysterical female on horseback all the way home.

  “Take me to her,” he said.

  O’Hare led the rest of the troopers out with the Arapaho men to investigate the site of the holdup and recover the bodies, while Jack followed the chief’s nephew through the village.

  The tepee was situated near the center of the village, a sign that a prominent family had been given the honor of caring for the woman. Jack would make sure to give them something for their trouble, especially if the lady had been unpleasant company.

  At the door, Spotted Hawk stopped. “Ladies first,” Jack offered. He didn’t need an interpreter to understand the look she gave him. Spotted Hawk opted to wait outside, despite the cold.

  With a quick salute for Spotted Hawk—Jack understood who was in charge at this tepee—he lifted the flap and ducked inside without an escort.

  The dark room was cozy and warm, but the smoke took some getting used to. He heard scuffling before his eyes adjusted and he could see the woman rising from the pile of bedding. Her brown hair was matted, and her clothing was muddied and tattered. She was young to be traveling alone. Younger than he’d expected. And prettier, too. His heart twisted at the thought of her being abandoned and left to die on the prairie. Despite the wedding cake he’d missed at the reception, he wished he could have reached her sooner.