The Unlikely Wife (11 page)

By the time the sun was directly overhead, Rebecca’s stomach was complaining. She had eaten very little at breakfast. The anticipated joy at seeing her father again had fought with her disappointment that the journey was nearly over. It would be much more difficult to spend time with Clark unless he chose to call on her.

But surely he would.

Unless he was too intimidated by her father.

Rebecca gave up speculating and gazed off across the prairie. She rode in the wagon. As a favor to Clark, she thought with a smile. She had convinced her aunt that the canvas wouldn’t stop an arrow, and they were better off being able to see what was coming. With all four sides rolled up they got the full benefit of the breeze and had a sunshade as well.
Aunt Belle didn’t appreciate how comfortable they really were.

“I daresay we should be stopping for lunch soon,” Aunt Belle said.

“Maybe not,” Rebecca responded, turning toward her companions. “If we’re close, it would make more sense to keep traveling.”

“Close.” The word sounded like a prayer. “I can’t imagine ever doing anything but riding in this infernal wagon.”

Rebecca cast a longing look toward her gelding that trotted behind. “I could ride up and ask the sergeant how much farther it is.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Aunt Belle snapped. “We are about to return to civilization and you need to remember proper decorum.”

Rebecca wasn’t daunted by the sharp words. “I simply thought it would be helpful to know. We are planning to dress for civilization, aren’t we?”

Aunt Belle seemed to be taking the suggestion seriously. Rebecca held her breath and prayed.

But before Aunt Belle made a decision, Sergeant Whiting rode up to the wagon and turned to trot beside it. “Afternoon, ladies,” he said cordially, doffing his hat.

“Why, good afternoon, Mr. Whiting,” Rebecca said, knowing her friendly tone would irritate her aunt. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, ma’am. I figure we’ll be getting into Fort
Hays in about an hour and a half. The lieutenant thought you’d like to know.”

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Rebecca said. “Please convey our deepest appreciation to the lieutenant and my personal thanks as well. Be sure to mention how much I’ve enjoyed the ride this morning.”

The sergeant grinned in spite of her scowl.

“An hour and a half!” Aunt Belle repeated, oblivious to the last exchange. “That’s barely enough time.

“If you’ll excuse us,” she said, dismissing the sergeant “Come girls, help me roll down the sides.”

Knowing they were close enough to the fort to be safe, Rebecca convinced her aunt to let her roll the sides up again once they were dressed. As a result, they got to watch the white smear on the landscape develop into the tent city that was Fort Hays.

Rebecca, her earlier hunger forgotten, found the view stirring.

Aunt Belle was aghast. “This is what passes as civilization in this part of the world? Why, there’s nothing here.”

“It’s a new fort,” Rebecca said. “We’ll be here to see it built. Look, there are several buildings under construction. We’ll be in a house before winter, I’d imagine.”

“Before winter? Surely there’s a town nearby with a hotel.”

There was no use trying to convince her otherwise. Her aunt would find out soon enough how habitable a large army tent could be. Rebecca had always thought they were wonderful as a girl.

The caravan slowed to a walk in order to raise less dust as it followed the road into the collection of tents. Rebecca stood up and searched for her father. When she saw him ahead with a group of other officers she slipped off the back of the wagon and ran to greet him.

She had barely made it past the line of troops and flung her arms around her father when she heard Clark order the troops to halt.

After a brief hug her father disentangled himself and scowled down at her. “Becky girl, I should have known you’d find a way to get here. I can see six years with my sister has had very little effect on you.”

Rebecca beamed. “Why thank you, Father.”

He chuckled. “I trust she and her daughter have arrived as well, in equally
good
health.”

Rebecca nodded. “They’re waiting in the ambulance.”

The colonel’s attention shifted to something behind her, and she turned to see Clark salute.

“First Lieutenant Clark Forrester reporting, sir.”

Rebecca couldn’t help but grin. Clark was keeping his eyes carefully off her.

“Welcome, Lieutenant,” her father said. “Sergeant,
see to the men. The quartermaster will take charge of the supplies. Come inside, Lieutenant, and give me your full report.”

Her father turned toward the tent then stopped, fixing his gaze once again on Rebecca. “My orderly will show you to our quarters. I’ll expect your full report at dinner.”

“Yes, sir.” She gave him a mock salute.

The colonel entered his tent and Clark moved to follow. As he passed, Rebecca said softly, “Told you he wouldn’t notice my hair.”

He flicked her a glance without the slightest change in his purposeful step.

Colonel Huntington had a two-room tent, or more accurately, two tents with a covered breezeway between. One was used as a bedroom and the other served as kitchen and dining room. The colonel’s striker had been sent for, and, after preparing a quick lunch for the ladies, he helped them hang a canvas to separate the bedroom into two and set up three new cots in the larger portion.

“The lack of furniture is deplorable,” Aunt Belle commented when the last of the trunks had been moved in.

“Your furniture will come with the train,” Rebecca reminded her. “Ours is probably stored somewhere.”

Aunt Belle gave her a knowing nod. “Somewhere. But does even your father know where?”

Rebecca laughed. “I’ll ask him. Do you want to take a walk around the camp? Get to know your new home?”

Aunt Belle shook her head. “I’m looking forward to lying down on something that doesn’t sway. I feel quite worn-out.”

“Alicia?”

“I’ll go along. If you don’t mind, Mother.”

“Yes, go. Just stay together and don’t speak to anyone.”

Rebecca opened her mouth to protest, but decided escape was a better plan. “Have a good rest We won’t be long.”

When she and Alicia had walked away from the tent, Rebecca asked, “Have you forgiven me for interfering with you and Brooks?”

Alicia kept her eyes on the ground. “Of course.”

“Truly, Alicia, I had your best—”

“Could we not talk about it?”

“All right. What do you want to see first?”

Alicia looked around, considering. “The new buildings. I’ve been hearing the hammers since we got here.”

Rebecca hoped her smile hid her disappointment. She had thought that Alicia might be willing to tell her what had happened the night she had left the wagon. Rebecca didn’t need to know everything her
cousin did, and she wouldn’t care about this if she thought Alicia had put whatever it was behind her. But she didn’t. Alicia was too quiet, even for her. She seemed subdued and a little nervous.

Rebecca tried to keep up some carefree banter as they made their way toward the construction site. The tents had been set up a few hundred yards away from the planned fort, and both women were beginning to notice the heat of the day before they arrived.

“I miss the pants already,” Rebecca whispered to Alicia as they picked their way between stacks of lumber to find a place to view the work.

Alicia shook her head. “All I miss is the hat.”

“I think we should keep the hats,” Rebecca said. “We could dress them up with some ribbons and feathers, start a new fashion.”

Alicia didn’t laugh but at least she smiled.

“Ladies! Ladies!”

Rebecca and Alicia turned to see a stout soldier running toward them. “Good afternoon, Corporal,” Rebecca said.

“This is no place for you ladies,” the corporal said. “It could be dangerous.”

“I can see that,” Rebecca said with a smile. “That’s why we’re clear over here. Tell me, is this to be one of the barracks?”

The corporal turned to watch the workers for a moment. “Why, yes, it is.”

“Are you in charge of the project?” Rebecca hoped she sounded suitably impressed.

“In a manner of speaking, ma’am.”

“Then, sir, we would so much enjoy a tour of the site.”

The corporal turned to smile at them. “Would you, ma’am?”

Rebecca nodded, nudging Alicia so she would do the same.

The corporal seemed to recall himself. “But that’s out of the question, ma’am. Too dangerous. Far too dangerous. You best be going back.”

Rebecca tried pouting but the corporal was adamant.

“I tried,” Rebecca whispered as they made their way slowly back toward the tents.

“You didn’t care about a tour,” Alicia said. “You just wanted to cause that poor soldier trouble.”

“That’s unfair, Alicia. Although, I doubt if the man is in charge of anything but seeing that the other men kept working.”

“You just don’t like to be told what to do.”

Rebecca tried to look hurt but gave it up with a shrug. “Let’s stop by Father’s office on the way back. Maybe he’ll give us a tour.”

Rebecca was delighted to hear Alicia laugh. “You’d like to see the look on that poor soldier’s face if you came back with the post commander.”

Rebecca was thinking of a clever quip when she
saw three armed soldiers hurry toward the headquarters tent. One approached the tent entrance as her father stepped out to meet him. Hasty orders were given and the three moved purposefully away.

“What was that about?” Alicia asked.

“I don’t know. The soldiers are on guard duty or they wouldn’t be armed. Listen, Alicia. I want you to go back to our quarters. I’ll go see what’s going on. Can you find your way?”

Alicia nodded.

Rebecca hurried forward. She didn’t know why she was so worried. Her father could have ordered the arrest of any soldier. For any number of reasons.

But the pure fury she had seen on his face made her wonder if it was somehow personal.

“Father?” she called hesitantly as she entered the tent.

She was surprised to find him alone. And pacing. He turned and scowled at her.

“Father, what’s happened?”

He fixed her with a glare she had seen often as a child. It had never bothered her much, but today it made her blood turn cold.

“I’ve ordered the arrest of Lieutenant Forrester,” he said.

R
ebecca stared at her father for a full minute before she found her voice. “Arrest Clark? Why?”

Her father’s eyes narrowed, and she realized she had used the lieutenant’s first name. It mattered little under these circumstances. “On what grounds?”

“Dereliction of duty. Endangering his men. Deserting his post. Conduct unbecoming an officer. Anything else I can think of.”

What was he talking about? This was not the lieutenant she knew. And loved.

“On whose word?” she asked, hoping with enough information she could understand what had happened. And correct it.

The colonel sighed and slumped in his chair. It creaked under his weight The oak chair and its matching desk seemed out of place in a tent.

Rebecca shook her head. The whole conversation was out of place.

“A soldier,” her father began, “reported seeing the lieutenant with a young woman in his arms last night in the midst of a hostile attack.”

Rebecca opened her mouth but he waved for silence. “He said he couldn’t tell which of the young ladies was with the lieutenant but it isn’t hard for me to guess.”

Rebecca took a step forward. “You believed him?”

“Of course I did,” her father shouted, coming to his feet. “I know my daughter! Your aunt has kept me well posted on your activities.”

Rebecca’s heart was pounding in her ears. Somehow she had to make him see reason. All of Clark’s comments about the trouble she could cause him came back to her. “The attack was over,” she said.

The colonel nodded slowly. “So it’s true, isn’t it? The attack was over…by the time you went to him? If this soldier saw you in his arms, what else happened that he didn’t see?”

Rebecca felt her cheeks warm. “You can’t do this to him,” she whispered. She had brought this on Clark. There had to be a way to save him.

Her father watched her, a speculative gleam in his eyes. “Why not?”

Rebecca swallowed. “Because…we’re planning to be married. If you court-martial him, it’ll ruin my life as well.”

He stepped toward her. “Is that the truth?”

Rebecca nodded. “I love him, Father.”

“I suppose that changes things,” he said, moving back to his chair. “It puts me in a damnable position, though. The man takes liberties with my daughter using promises of marriage to break down her resistance.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Father.”

The colonel ignored her. “Is there any reason the wedding can’t take place this evening?”

“This evening?”

“Yes, of course. The fort being in the condition it is, there’s little use trying to plan some huge celebration anyway. Might as well get the deed done, don’t you think?”

He was watching her closely. He was expecting a protest! Well, he wouldn’t get one from her. Clark was another matter. “I need to talk to him.”

“Out of the question. You go home and do what you can to make the tent presentable. I’ll talk to your lieutenant.”

“But Father—” But what? She couldn’t hardly tell him she needed to explain the situation to Clark. How furious would her father be when he found out there had been no such promises exchanged? Surely he would force the marriage rather than go ahead with the court-martial!

“Come, girl. I’ll see you make it home without
getting lost We can explain the situation to Belle together.”

Rebecca stifled a groan.

One empty little tent, separated from the rest, was designated as the guardhouse. Clark stretched out on the ground and tried to be grateful that he hadn’t simply been chained to a tree. Not that having his ankles and wrists in shackles was much more comfortable. He was at least out of public view.

He had known from the beginning that any involvement with the colonel’s daughter would mean trouble, though he hadn’t anticipated quite this much. And exactly why he was in chains was still a mystery.

He seriously doubted if his current predicament was caused by anything Rebecca had said. Of course, confronted with her behavior she would probably weep and say whatever was necessary to protect herself.

He frowned at the image. He had been thoroughly convinced of that a week ago. He wasn’t so certain now.

He unbuttoned his blouse and removed the bundle from the inside pocket. Rebecca’s hair wrapped tightly in a handkerchief. He didn’t open it; the danger of being interrupted was too great It was enough to hold it in his hands and let it stimulate memories of Rebecca.

It smelled faintly of smoke. It had been with him when he had sifted through the ashes with her. The
only time it had been out of the pocket was when his uniform had been washed.

At first he had regretted that the smoke had contaminated his treasure, but now it reminded him that Rebecca wasn’t quite the frivolous girl she had once seemed.

He closed his eyes. He had let himself hope that with her father’s consent he could call upon her, court her. In his fantasies he even won her. Obviously her father was going to be harder to convince than he had thought.

He heard voices outside the tent, someone speaking to the guard. He tucked the bundle away and rolled to his feet. The last button was back in place as Colonel Huntington ducked into the tent.

The colonel stood for a moment then spoke over his shoulder. “Bring a light. I want to see the prisoner’s face.”

Clark shifted position as he waited. The clank of the chains made him wish he had held still. They sounded somehow hopeless. Not exactly what he wanted to portray during this interview.

The guard finally brought a lantern and set it on the ground.

“Are the chains necessary?” Huntington asked.

“There are no bars, sir.”

The colonel took a step closer to Clark. “Do I have your word you won’t try to escape?”

Clark couldn’t conceal his surprise. “Yes, sir.”

“Remove the shackles.”

The guard complied quickly but left the chains lying on the ground, a silent reminder that they would be restored as soon as the colonel left.

“Thank you, sir,” Clark said, rubbing a numbed wrist

“Do you know the charges against you?”

Clark took two slow breaths. “No, sir.”

“There are a number of formal charges I can make but basically it comes down to seducing my daughter.”

Clark kept his eyes locked with the colonel’s. “There may be some truth in that, sir.”

“Did you leave your post during a battle for a tryst with Rebecca?”

Clark blinked. “No, sir.”

Huntington waved a hand in the air as if he had somehow become sidetracked. He paced for a moment, studying the ground. He stopped directly in front of Clark. “Do you love Rebecca?”

Clark wished he knew what Rebecca had said to her father, and he to her. The question could be a trap, perhaps more for Rebecca than for himself.

“Sir,” he began, choosing his words carefully. “I tried to see that your daughter and I were never alone. I meant to protect her reputation. But it is true that I encouraged her visits. And I’ll accept the blame for whatever damage was done.”

“Hmm.” The colonel nodded. “Interesting. But it
doesn’t answer my question. Are you in love with my daughter?”

With no understanding of where this was leading, Clark decided on honesty. “Yes, sir.”

Huntington spent another moment pacing. Whether it was to help him formulate his next question or to increase his prisoner’s concern, Clark couldn’t guess. Though it was definitely doing the latter.

Abruptly the colonel stopped. “I understand there were certain promises made.”

“Sir?”

“Namely marriage.”

Clark swallowed. What was going on? “Is that what she said?”

“Are you denying it?”

Clark hesitated. “No, sir.”

Huntington seemed to find that amusing. Clark was too bewildered to guess why.

He slapped Clark on the back. “The girl pleaded for your career, Lieutenant. It seems if you’re courtmartialed it’ll ruin her life as well, since she’s determined to keep her promise under any circumstances and marry you.”

“I see,” Clark said, and thought he did. She was trying to take responsibility for her actions as she had when her flirting lessons had gotten Alicia into trouble. It was a noble sacrifice, one he couldn’t accept. “May I talk to your daughter, sir?”

The colonel shook his head. “Nope. She’s getting
ready for the wedding. You should do the same. You can see her at my quarters in say…an hour.”

“Sir, I’d like to talk to her first.”

Huntington looked significantly down at the shackles and back at Clark. “In an hour. In your dress uniform. Prepared to make her your wife.”

Clark walked toward Colonel Huntington’s quarters certain that no bridegroom had ever had quite the same case of jitters. But few bridegrooms were ordered to their wedding by their commanding officer.

There was still a possibility that there would be no wedding. He would arrive at the Huntington tent several minutes before the appointed time. Surely the colonel wouldn’t deny him the opportunity to speak to Rebecca alone. He had to know why she had lied to her father. Unless this marriage was what she truly wanted, he wouldn’t go through with it.

The idea brought a sinking feeling to the pit of his stomach. Returning to the jail tent wasn’t nearly as demoralizing as learning that Rebecca had no true feeling for him. For a moment he wished he could simply not ask.

In the breezeway between the two tents, Clark softly called her name. The openings to the tents faced each other. He could hear muffled women’s voices behind the closed flap of one.

“Forrester!” came a hearty voice from the other. Huntington clapped him on the back and all but
pulled him into the tent. “You’re early. That shows more eagerness than I expected.”

The sparsely furnished room was bedecked with wildflowers, no small feat on such short notice. Still it was hardly the wedding she had no doubt dreamed of.

“I need to talk to Rebecca, sir.”

“She’s still getting dressed,” the colonel said, moving to a small cupboard and collecting a bottle and two glasses. “Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thank you. Sir, I need to know this is what she wants.”

The colonel poured a splash of whiskey into each of the glasses and brought them toward Clark. “Have a drink and stop worrying about it.”

“Sir, I have no intention of marrying your daughter against her will.”

“It was her idea, wasn’t it?” Huntington smiled and urged the glass into Clark’s hand. He raised his own. “To marriage.”

Clark refused to return the toast “I have nothing against marriage and certainly nothing against the idea of marriage to your daughter. But if she’s doing this because of some sense of responsibility for my career…”

“Forrester, you’ve known Rebecca for what? Eight, ten days? You know she’s a manipulative little flirt.”

Clark took a sip of the whiskey.

“I’ll be glad to see her safely married,” the colonel continued. “To be honest, son, I’d feel a little sorry for you, except I figure a man used to commanding troops ought to be able to keep her in line.”

Clark couldn’t resist. “You haven’t, sir.”

Huntington chuckled. “She’s my daughter. It’s different. Wait until you have one of your own.”

Huntington set his empty glass on the table then changed his mind and hid it beside the bottle in the cupboard.

“That brings up another subject,” he said returning to stand in front of Clark. “I recommend that you get the girl pregnant right away. A child to look after should settle her down.”

Clark was sure the shock he felt must show on his face. “If you don’t mind my saying so, sir, your daughter comes by her talent for manipulation quite honestly.”

Huntington laughed. “You said you love her. I’m doing you a favor.”

“Sirs?”

They both turned toward the open tent flap.

“What is it, Sergeant?” the colonel asked.

Clark stepped forward. “I asked Sergeant Whiting to serve as my witness, sir.”

“Well, come in and toast the bridegroom,” the colonel said, returning to the cupboard.

“My pleasure, sir.” The sergeant leaned close to Clark. “You should hear the rumors, sir.”

Clark motioned him to silence. Rumors were the least of his concerns right now. And without a chance to talk to Rebecca, he saw no choice but to go through with this marriage made by Colonel Huntington.

Or maybe he didn’t want a choice. He could tell the colonel right now that he was returning to the guardhouse. That he wasn’t letting Rebecca sacrifice her freedom.

Instead, he watched Huntington hand a glass to Whiting and raise his refilled glass. “To the bridegroom.”

Clark downed the last of his whiskey.

The chaplain arrived and Huntington poured another round of drinks. Clark took only a sip and deposited the glass in the cupboard with the rest when the colonel went to tell the ladies that he would abide no more waiting.

“That’s enough, Aunt Belle. There’s nothing more you can do for my hair.”

Rebecca had sat through what seemed like hours of lecturing, though it couldn’t possibly have been that long. The upshot of it all was that Aunt Belle felt extremely sorry for poor Lieutenant Forrester. He was getting a frivolous, selfish wife who would likely continue to flirt with other men. A cruel trick since he was marrying her to save her reputation. Rebecca’s only chance of avoiding marital disaster was
to become a serious, hardworking wife, a miracle Aunt Belle did not imagine she would live to see.

Earlier, while Alicia was out picking flowers, Aunt Belle had shared her knowledge of men and their needs as well as a wife’s responsibilities. The information implied that the stolen kisses were most likely the last of the fun. Belle’s assertion that a man might enjoy a flirtation with a stranger but would be disgusted by the same behavior in a wife seemed entirely unfair.

Rebecca knew Aunt Belle had heard her father’s summons, but still the woman fussed with a curl that failed to hide one of the many pins that held flowers in her hair. “It looks fine, Aunt Belle.”

“I guess it’s the best we can do,” Belle said with a sigh. “Alicia, are you ready?”

“Yes, Mother.”

Rebecca stood and turned to her cousin who sat on a cot in the far corner of the tent. Alicia seemed more in horror of Rebecca’s sudden marriage than her mother did. Aunt Belle was of course pleased to be rid of her.