Merline Lovelace (6 page)

Damn the woman!

He didn’t realize he’d muttered the words aloud until she spun around, one foot on the first step of the porch fronting the McKinney’s quarters. A quick step up brought her angry face level with his.

“Don’t think I’m any happier about this situation than you, you arrogant bastard. As soon as we hear from Philip, Suzanne and I will be gone from here.”

“
If
you hear from him at all.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” She sucked in a swift breath. “Have you received something back already? A telegram or dispatch?”

The anxiety that rushed in to replace her anger took the rough edge from Andrew’s voice.

“No. I would have told you if I had.”

Crossing her arms, she tucked her hands inside her elbows. The movement wasn’t quite quick enough to hide the sudden tremble in her fingers.

“Why do you doubt my husband will contact me?”

“Word is you haven’t heard from him in more than a year.”

“I have Victoria McKinney to thank for that bit of gossip, I imagine.”

“Is it true?”

She didn’t want to answer. He could see pride warring with the inbred reserve she’d always hidden beneath her teasing smile.

“Yes, it’s true,” she admitted at last.

Despite the contradictory feelings she roused in him, Andrew didn’t want to add to her burdens. Yet neither of them could deny the truth.

“A lot can happen in a year in the rough and tumble mining towns of Montana,” he said quietly.

She turned away to stare across the treeless plains awash in silvery moonlight. He studied the profile she presented, searching again for the girl he’d once known in this woman’s shadowed eyes and sculpted cheekbones. She didn’t speak, but the desperation she tried so valiantly to mask ripped at his conscience.

He’d loved her once. Married her despite every dictate of common sense. Risked his life and his honor to slip back through enemy lines and return for her as he’d promised.

Curling a knuckle under her chin, he brought her face around and tipped it to the moonlight. “If he’s
alive, he’ll move heaven and hell to come for you. God knows, I did.”

She pulled in another breath, this one soft and fast. A rush of heat warmed the satiny skin under his finger. Without intending to, without even knowing that he did it, Andrew spread his hand and cupped her cheek.

Lord, she was beautiful. Her face was so delicate beneath the heavy coronet of braids. Aching for a touch of that silky hair, he slid his fingers from her cheek to her neck. The fine, damp curls at her nape lit a fire under his skin.

A pulse beat in the side of her neck, hard and fast against his palm. Wide-eyed and still as a startled deer, she stared up at him.

She felt it, too, Andrew realized with a shock. The same throbbing heat, the same remembered pull deep in her loins.

A fierce satisfaction stabbed through him, tempered by the knowledge that what he was about to do was sheer idiocy. He’d lost his head and almost lost his life once because of this woman. He’d be twenty kinds of a fool to fall under her spell again.

Even that stern admonishment didn’t stop him. The need to taste her one more time, to see if her lips were as warm and ripe as he remembered spurred him on. Curling his fingers around her nape, he bent his head.

He was so intent on the brush of his lips against hers that Andrew could never afterward determine
which came first, Julia’s sudden jerk back or the voice that trilled out of the darkness behind him.

“Major Garrett? Is that—? Oh!”

Smothering a curse, he lifted his head. What a perfect time for Lieutenant McKinney’s petulant wife to appear on the scene. Before he could take command of the situation, Julia shook free of his hand and stepped to one side.

“Are you back so soon, Victoria?” she inquired coolly.

“
Too
soon, it appears.”

The arch reply locked Andrew’s jaw. Turning, he pinned the young wife in place with a stern look.

“Perhaps you have something you wish to say to me, Mrs. McKinney?”

Faced with her husband’s commander at his most forbidding, the woman clutched her baby’s basket to her chest and quailed. “N-no, sir.”

“Then may I ask you to be so good as to go inside while I finish my conversation with Mrs. Bonneaux?”

“Yes, of course.”

Gathering her skirts, she scurried up the steps. Andrew waited until the door had banged behind her to face the woman who stood rigid as a flagpole on the steps.

“I’m sorry, Julia. I didn’t intend—”

“Spare me your apologies,” she said with icy disdain. “I don’t want to know what you intended. Nor do I
ever
want to feel your hands on me again, Andrew Garrett.”

T
he storm Julia expected broke over her head as soon as she’d fetched Suzanne from the next door neighbor’s and carried the sleepy little girl up the stairs to the bedroom the two of them shared.

Victoria was waiting for her at the top of the stairs, having deposited her infant son in his cradle. One glance at the younger woman’s angry, pinched face spoke volumes. It was obvious the cutting reproof Andrew had delivered outside still rankled. Badly.

Clutching her muslin wrapper around her nightdress with agitated hands, she followed Julia down the hall. “I never expected to be taken to task on the steps of my own home by anyone on this post.”

“No?”

Still shaken from those inexplicable seconds on the porch, Julia was in no mood to pander to the woman’s ill humor.

“Were I you, Victoria, I should have expected it
at any time. You would be wise to mind your tone and your tongue around your husband’s superiors.”

Gasping, the younger woman gripped her wrapper even tighter across her thin chest. “How dare you question my behavior? You, of all people!”

Her outrage woke Suzanne. Stirring, the girl lifted her head from her mother’s shoulder. “Mama?”

“Hush, sweetheart. Go back to sleep.” Julia directed a warning glance at her hostess. “Mama and Mrs. McKinney are just talking.”

The fuming Victoria was forced to contain her ire while Julia tucked Suzanne into the wood frame bed Private Rafferty had procured from a source he’d declined to identify. The straw ticking rustled as she settled the girl and slowly drew up the sheet.

“Sleep well,
ma petite.
”

Murmuring sleepily, Suzanne curled into a tight ball. Julia stroked her hair, fighting a spurt of pure cowardice. With all her heart, she wished she could shed her clothes, crawl in beside her daughter and draw the sheet up over her head rather than face the angry woman in the hall. In truth, she had no defense against the accusations Victoria would undoubtedly sling at her.

Was she mad, to have stood still and unprotesting while Andrew put his hands on her? Was she the slut Augusta Hottenfelder had called her, to feel her pulse trip when his lips had brushed hers? She was married, for the love of all the saints! She’d sworn to honor Philip with her body and her heart.

Her fingers gripped the coarsely woven linen sheet. A feeling of panic rose in her chest. As much as she tried, she couldn’t bring Philip’s face into her mind. God help her, she couldn’t summon a single one of his features! He’d been gone so long now, almost two years. And even before he left…

She closed her eyes, hating herself, hating the fact that she’d become more a mother than a wife to the charming riverboat gambler-turned-Confederate-naval-officer who’d soothed her aching heart during those long months in Natchez, where her uncle had sent her to stay to avoid the shame of having her name linked to that of a Union spy.

Philip had looked so dashing in his uniform, and loved her so tenderly. She’d come to love him, too. Not with the passion Andrew had stirred in her, perhaps, but with her whole, bruised heart. At least during those first years, when the demands of his war duties had kept him from the gaming tables that were his downfall.

And now…

Now, Julia had to struggle to recall his face. Another man, another set of lean, rugged features blocked her husband from her mind. Consigning Andrew Garrett to the hottest fires of hell, she loosed her grip on the sheet and smoothed it over her sleeping daughter.

Victoria was pacing the hall when she emerged from the bedroom and firmly shut the door behind
her. The lieutenant’s wife had used her few minutes alone to work herself into a righteous rage.

“I won’t have you playing the harlot in my house, Mrs. Bonneaux. With Major Garrett or anyone else.”

Julia folded her arms, saying nothing while Victoria vented her spleen.

“The major may outrank my husband in army matters, but not in matters of common decency. I won’t have it, I tell you.”

Her uncanny echo of Augusta Hottenfelder raised a bubble of hysterical laughter in Julia’s throat. What was it about her that brought out the shrew in women like Victoria and Augusta? She was too proud, she acknowledged ruefully, and her chin had a tendency to lift too quickly, the way it now did.

“My conduct does not concern you, Victoria.”

“It does while you reside in this house!”

The temper Julia had worked so hard to keep in check around Victoria finally slipped its leash. “Then perhaps it’s best if my daughter and I don’t reside here any longer.”

“Perhaps it is!”

“I shall make other arrangements as soon possible.”

“See that you do.”

With a flip of her wrapper, the angry wife spun around and sailed down the hall to her own room.

Julia stared after her, trying to feel repentant, but the only emotion she could summon was anger. And disgust. She couldn’t blame anyone but herself for
those few moments on the porch that had brought her to this pass. Herself…and Andrew Garrett.

Damn him!

Dressed in her cherry-striped silk, Julia walked the short distance to the headquarters building after the buglers sounded stable call the next morning. She’d learned enough about life at a cavalry post by now to know Andrew would be at the stables, ensuring the junior officers and senior sergeants in his company set their men to work grooming their horses properly.

Lifting her skirts, she mounted the front stairs to Old Bedlam and made her way along the veranda to the commander’s offices. With a brilliant smile for the orderly on duty, she asked if Colonel Cavanaugh was in.

“He’s in, ma’am, but, well, uh…” The private looked for help to the corporal who’d jumped to his feet at her entrance.

“My regrets, Mrs. Bonneaux,” Gottlieb offered in his heavy German accent. “The Colonel, he is ill.”

Her heart sinking, Julia nodded. “Would you be so kind as to send me a note when he’s well enough to see me? I would like to speak with him as soon as possible.”

The corporal’s heels clicked. “It would be my pleasure, ma’am.”

“Thank you.”

She’d turned to leave when the rattle of the inner door stayed her. The colonel slumped against the
jamb, his uniform jacket buttoned all askew and his shirttail hanging down one side of his trousers. Peering at her through red-rimmed eyes, he essayed a crooked smile.

“I thought I h’rd you.”

His speech was so slurred Julia barely understood him. Startled, she wondered if the man was drunk.

“Did y’wan to see me?”

“Yes, but—”

“C’m in, then, c’m in.”

He lurched back into his office, tugging at the hem of his uniform jacket to straighten it. Hesitant, Julia glanced at the corporal.

“It’s his medicine,” the embarrassed trooper explained. “He feels the wound in his shoulder. He must take laudanum, you understand, to dull the pain.”

The sticky-sweet odor that greeted Julia when she entered the colonel’s office wasn’t unfamiliar to her. Physicians prescribed the opium-based medicinal to men and women alike to ease everything from tooth-aches to the pains of childbirth. Julia herself had a bottle tucked in her trunk for emergencies.

Leaning crookedly against his desk, the colonel invited her to be seated. “Wha c’n—?” He licked his lips and started over again. “What can I do for you, Mrs. B’neaux?”

“I came to beg a favor, Colonel Cavanaugh.”

Waving a limp-wristed hand, he signaled her to continue.

“I should like you to put me on the rolls.”

“On the rolls?”

“As a laundress.”

His jaw sagged. “A laundress? You?”

Julia rushed on before he could voice the denial she saw forming on his face.

“Last night at the hop Private Rafferty informed me that the husband of one of laundresses in his company recently finished his enlistment. He and his wife returned East, leaving a position open. I should like to apply for it.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“Indeed I am. I’m not unaccustomed to hard work, I assure you. After the war, I found myself in the same situation as many of my fellow Southerners.”

Resolutely, she shoved aside the memories of the house in Mobile she’d closed off room by room. War had taken its toll on the Robichaud Steamship Lines. Philip’s hopeless attempts at the gaming tables to recoup the fortune Julia had brought him had steadily stripped his family of all but a few, cherished possessions. Those she’d sold to pay for her journey west.

“I cooked and cleaned and scrubbed in those hard days after the war, colonel. I can certainly do so now.”

“But—” He shook his head in a muddled attempt to take in her astounding request. “But you’re a lady….”

“Ladies must eat, sir. As I’m temporarily without
means to provide for myself and my daughter, I would like a chance to earn some funds.”

“D’you mean to tell me Major Garrett’s not providing for you? That demmed dog! I’ll speak to him at once.”

“No!”

“Gottlieb!” Roaring for the orderly, the colonel lurched toward the door. “Gottlieb, send a runner to—”

“No, please!”

Swiftly, Julia rose and stepped in front of him.

“Major Garrett has sent rations, but I don’t—That is, I’m not—”

Thoroughly confused, the colonel blinked owlishly. “Not what?”

“Neither my daughter nor I have any claim on the major. Nor do we wish to be beholden to him.”

Particularly after last night. Julia cringed whenever she remembered how she’d stood there like a witless fool, her heart hammering in her chest, while her skin flamed under his fingers.

The past months may have stripped away her pride. She wouldn’t strip away her honor. She had to be shed of Andrew Garrett, had to put him out of her mind and herself out of his reach.

“I’m willing to work for my keep, Colonel. Please, give me this chance.”

He stared at her with wide, dilated eyes. Slowly, the confusion gave way to a look Julia couldn’t quite
interpret. It was glee, perhaps, or enjoyment at some private joke only he was privy to.

“I wonder what Garrett will say to this,” he muttered.

Her chin tipped. “I neither know nor care.”

A malicious light crept into his eyes. His gaze lingered on her face for several moments, then dropped to her bosom. Julia didn’t like the smile that drew back his cracked lips.

“There are other ways a woman can earn her keep, m’dear.”

“So I understand,” she said coldly. “Will you put me on the rolls or not, sir?”

“It’s the company commander’s right to appoint laundresses for his troop.”

Julia’s heart sank. The vacancy Rafferty had mentioned was in Company A, part of Andrew’s regiment.

“In this instance,” Cavanaugh said with a gleeful smile, “I might just pull rank.”

The burly Private Rafferty was once again pressed into duty, this time to carry Julia’s trunk to the laundresses’ quarters. He spent the entire walk across the post regretting his artless confidence and earnestly urging Julia not to be so rash.

“I niver should have flapped me jaw about Dietrich and his wife a’goin’ back to Pennsylvania,” he moaned. “The major will have me head, and that’s a fact.”

Ignoring his wails, Julia clutched Suzanne’s hand and picked her way along the bank of the Laramie to the quarters set aside for the laundresses and their families.

“Please, missus,” Rafferty begged as they approached the squat, brick and plank buildings. “I wish you’d think about this again. Suds Row is no place for a lady.”

Although her step didn’t falter, Julia suffered a distinct qualm at her first close-up view of her quarters. Each building housed four apartments. These boasted only rough plank floors and a single room partitioned in half. A cast-iron stove served to heat both rooms in winter, but inhabitants shared a communal kitchen. It was set not far from the privies, which stank in the hot June sun.

The laundresses were already at their tubs, placed near the shallows of the river. Their lively chatter rose above the slap of wet uniforms against washboards and the general din surrounding them. Babies crawled, toddlers squalled and children shrieked and splashed in the river. Yipping dogs barked at their heels, while a lone cow mooed disconsolately from the yard.

Julia’s arrival created a stir in their tight-knit community. One by one, the laundresses ceased their labors. Curious glances came her way. The chatter died. And when Private Rafferty hauled her trunk inside the empty set of quarters, fifteen or so pairs of eyes widened.

One of the laundresses detached herself from the rest. Frowning, Mary Donovan wove her way up the sloping bank. Her wet blouse clung to her generous bosom. Sweat and steam from the fires that heated the wash water had fizzed her strawberry hair.

“What’s this? Why’s that great gawk carryin’ yer trunk into the Dietrichs’ old place?”

“I’m moving in.”

“Niver say so!”

“Yes, it’s true. I’m joining your ranks.”

“Glory be, you cannot! You’re a leddy, right and proper.”

“You said yourself a woman does what she must to survive.”

“But—but Mrs. Lieutenant McKinney,” Mary sputtered. “The major—”

“Mrs. McKinney and I decided it would be best if I moved out, and where I choose to work has nothing to do with the major.”

“You’re daft as two ducks if you think that,” the older woman replied bluntly, planting her fists on her hips. “Major Garrett will be down here sure as thunder when he hears of this foolishness. He won’t have you livin’ with the likes of us.”

Julia answered through gritted teeth. “The major has no say in the matter.”

“Holy Mary, mither o’God, you can believe he does!”

When no answer to that was forthcoming, the laun
dress shoved her orangey hair off her forehead with an impatient hand.

“Listen to me, dearie. You don’t belong here. The washin’ and wringin’ will break your back, don’t y’know? You’ll be so tired at nights you’ll want to weep. You’ll bake red as a brick under the summer sun and get chilblains on yer chilblains from hackin’ through the ice on the river come winter…should you last so long.”

“I’ll last as long as I have to!”