This Savage Heart (22 page)

He was handsome and he knew it, but was not preoccupied by it. He merely acknowledged it. As he looked at Julie Marshall, he was appreciative of her gifts—full, voluptuous breasts rising from the bodice of a dress made for a smaller woman, limpid green eyes peering up at him curiously from beneath thick, dusty lashes. Her hair, so black it shone with sparkles of blue, hung loose and soft around her delicate face. She had rare beauty, indeed, but the quality that struck him the hardest was her all-encompassing look of gentleness. She would be soft, warm, loving, nothing like the shrewish woman beside him.

Wendell Manes made the introductions between Julie and Adam Thatcher, and Julie was all too aware of the way his eyes caressed her, the clasp of his hand. “I am so pleased you’re safe and well, Miss Marshall.” His voice was as rich and satisfying as fresh- brewed coffee on a cold winter morning, and his smile was concerned, even probing. She felt it all the way to her heart.

“Thank you,” she murmured, pulling her hand away firmly. She hadn’t missed the way Elisa narrowed her eyes coldly. Julie did not like that woman and was eager to remember if there was a reason.

They took their seats, and Flora Manes lifted a tiny silver bell to ring for the Mexican servants. They brought in platters of chicken and dumplings cooked in a rich, red sauce, boiled potatoes with bits of onions, deep-fried corn balls seasoned with paprika.

“How is the baby, dear?” Flora asked of Elisa as she helped herself to a large portion of chicken. “Is he stronger now?”

Elisa shrugged. “Yes, I think so. I’m afraid I’m not very good with children. Adam found a young Mexican girl to look after him, and I haven’t heard him crying much. He’s all right.”

Adam’s eyes shaded. “You are his mother,” he said crisply. “You must learn to care for him yourself.”

Elisa laughed nervously. So far it had been quite easy to pass the baby off as hers, and she was going to have to continue the ruse for quite some time. She needed time to decide what she wanted to do with her life, and the only thing she was certain of was that she didn’t want to be on that dismal little post in the middle of nowhere. “Now, Adam,” she cajoled, “I told you I didn’t have milk to nurse him. There was nothing for me to do but allow one of the mothers on the wagon train who was nursing her own to take over his care. I really haven’t had much time with the baby.”

“Well, that’s going to change,” he said gruffly. “I never believed in the ridiculous Southern custom of women handing over their children to someone else to care for.”

“Oh, I agree,” Flora interjected. “Wendell can tell you—we had the money to afford nursemaids, but I just wouldn’t allow it, would I, dear?” She waited for her husband’s obligatory nod before continuing. “And I’m so glad I didn’t. Now that our sons are grown, I give thanks to God for every precious moment I had with them when they were growing up. You’ll feel the same way, Elisa. And it will give you something to do out here, too. I’m afraid there’s not much social life on this post.”

Elisa looked near to tears. “I thought all military posts had balls and teas.” She looked about the table. “Don’t you?”

Wendell Manes attempted to explain. “This fort is in the middle of Apache territory, and as more and more settlers come west, our importance here will increase. We really haven’t time for—”

“Never a social function, sir?” Elisa asked incredulously, feeling the sharp nudge of her husband’s boot beneath the table. “Why, I should think a gala ball would be in order, so I might meet the other officers’ wives.”

“There aren’t many officers here, Elisa,” Adam snapped, “and not many of the enlisted men are married.”

Flora Manes looked uncomfortable. “Perhaps,” she offered gently, casting a pleading look at her husband, “we could have a little something. It would be a nice change, and it might be good for poor Julie.”

Suddenly Wendell Manes grinned broadly. “Well, maybe you’re right, dear. We’ll have a welcoming party for Mrs. Thatcher—and a going away party for us.”

Flora stared at her husband openmouthed. The others fell silent.

“I was going to tell you later,” Wendell said to his wife, and then looked at Adam, “and I was going to make a formal announcement to my officers when we meet later. But I may as well tell all of you now that I have received orders to report to Washington.”

‘Oh!” Flora gasped, hand flying to her throat. She laughed, ecstatic. “Wendell, darling! My prayers have been answered. Washington! Oh! We’ll leave this dreadful place, at last!” She turned to Elisa, oblivious to the younger woman’s envy. “I have wanted Wendell to be sent there for so long. Washington!”

“Congratulations, sir,” Adam said quickly, raising his wine goblet to his commanding officer. “I know you’ll do well there.”

Wendell gave him a wry smile. “Just as you would have, Adam, if you’d accepted the transfer offered you last month.”

“You had a chance to go to Washington?” Elisa exploded. She had lifted her own glass to join in the toast, but now she set it down so quickly the contents sloshed over onto the table. “You turned it
down
?”

“I had to wait for you, didn’t I?” Adam mumbled.

“Well, I’m here now,” she snapped. “Just send word to Washington that you’ll gladly take the next transfer. I don’t want to stay here in the middle of nowhere any more than Mrs. Manes does. Why, nothing to do, and those savage Indians all around us…”

Wendell interrupted cautiously. “I’m afraid there’s no chance for your husband to be transferred now, Mrs. Thatcher, unless he wants to give up the chance for a promotion. You see, I requested that he be placed in charge here. It’s a wonderful opportunity for him, very important to his career.”

Elisa got to her feet, cheeks flaming. “I don’t give a damn about his career, sir. I’ve been through hell these past months, and I’m sick of this blasted wilderness, sick of death, Indians, hard times—all of it. I want civilization. It’s easy for you to talk about how wonderful it is for him to be in charge of this ratty little fort, because you’re leaving. I’m the one left behind with nothing to do but turn into a leathery old sun-wrinkled hag like every other woman I’ve seen out here.”

While Wendell stared, stunned by her outburst, Flora touched her fingertips to her cheeks and whispered, “Why, my dear, are you referring to me? I’ve tried to stay out of the sun, and I had no idea…”

“Allow me to apologize for my wife.” Adam Thatcher rose stiffly, furious. “She’s not herself, which is to be expected after her ordeal. I’m sure when she’s rested, she’ll be as happy as I am over a promotion that means so much to my career.”

“Oh, no, I won’t,” Elisa blazed, backing away as he held out his hand to her, meaning to lead her from the room. “I’m not going to stay here, I promise you that.”

Adam apologized again quickly and, as his gaze swept over Julie, he saw the deep sympathy on her gentle face. Then he turned and clasped Elisa’s shoulders and pushed her toward the door.

Wendell Manes rose. “Adam, I’m sorry,” he called. “This was obviously not an appropriate time for me to say anything.”

“Don’t worry about it, sir.” Adam made his voice pleasant as he pushed Elisa through the door. “I’m very pleased for your good fortune and my opportunity to command this fort. I’ll meet you for brandy later.” He closed the door after them, but Elisa continued her tirade, the angry sounds fading as Adam moved her along the corridor.

“I’m shocked,” Flora Manes murmured as soon as they were alone. “I’m not at all sure that woman was meant to be a military wife. The very idea of such an outburst in front of her husband’s commanding officer!”

“Most unfortunate.” Wendell sat down and resumed eating. “Adam Thatcher is a fine officer, and he could have a fine military career, but not with that millstone around his neck.”

Flora nodded.

They finished the meal, and Flora suggested Julie retire. “I have some sewing to do, and Wendell always sits up with his officers. They’ll have a lot to talk about tonight!” She looked at her husband, her face shining. “How long before we go? Do I have time to get letters off to the boys telling them we’re coming?”

“Well, I think we’ll just surprise them, dear, because we leave on the next stagecoach east.”

“I’ve so much to do!” Flora cried, jumping up. “Come along, Julie. I’ll walk you back to your room.”

Julie waited until Flora had bustled away, then found her way outside her room to the quiet parade ground. It was a nice night, a half-moon illuminating the purple-black sky. Drinking in the sweet, clean desert air revived her spirits.

The fort was a shabby collection of sad buildings, all of cottonwood. It was surrounded by a pointed stockade made of logs set upright in the ground, topped at each corner by bastions where sentries could see the countryside day and night. The ground had been worn smooth, and there was no vegetation within the fort. What a drab place it was!

“Miss Marshall.”

She turned and saw Adam Thatcher approaching from the shadows. Standing a couple of feet to her left, he began by apologizing for Elisa’s behavior. “What she said was inexcusable. If the lieutenant colonel were not so understanding, I’m sure my promotion would be in jeopardy.”

“Don’t worry, Captain. I’m sure Elisa just hasn’t gotten over our ordeal. When I remember everything, I’ll probably be the same way.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” he said quickly.

His lips turned upward, and an appealing dimple appeared in his face. She was reminded of how handsome he was.

“I think,” he said, so softly that it seemed he was touching her, “you would be quite understanding, Miss Marshall. I can’t imagine your ever causing your husband such unhappiness.”

She murmured, “I don’t think I have a husband. I’m not sure of anything, but I have a feeling I’m alone in the world.”

He did touch her then, for only a brief moment. His fingertips touched her face, then withdrew quickly. “As lovely as you are, you never have to be alone. Several of my men have asked whose permission they need to court you.”

“I don’t want to be courted,” she told him quickly, stepping back, disturbed. “I would prefer to be left alone. Maybe I should leave here, go on to Tucson. I’ve no reason to stay at this fort.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “I’d hate for you to leave, Miss Marshall. But may I call you Julie?” He waited for her to nod before continuing. “I’ve talked to Dr. Mangone, and he assures me your memory will return. Until it does, you need someone to look out for you, and I would be honored if
you would allow me to be that someone.”

“That’s very kind of you, sir.” Oh, why was he affecting her this way? It wasn’t just his good looks. There was something else, a quality, a gentle manner she found most appealing. She needed friendship. And he was right, she did need a protector until she could sort things out. Later she was sure she could take care of herself.

“Please,” he said laughing and looking at her closely, “I do consider myself a gentleman. I don’t intend to seduce you—though I would be less than honest if I said the thought hadn’t occurred to me. You are a beautiful woman and you appeal to me very much. But I want to look out for you. Will you allow me to do that?”

Julie couldn’t help smiling at his frankness, and she was warmed by his concern. “Of course,” she told him, “I’m honored. But are you sure your wife won’t mind?”

“Elisa doesn’t like anything I do,” he said tightly, then dismissed the unpleasant subject with a wave. “Tomorrow, I’ll take you on a grand tour of our modest little fort. Do you ride? I’ll show you the countryside. There’s a large lake not too far from here, and it’s safe to go there as long as we take a patrol.”

“I wonder whether I’ll ever feel safe again,” she mused, more to herself than to him. “There’s so much I need to remember. The war. I can’t remember anything about the war. I assume I’m a Southerner, but I don’t know where I came from. And, in a way, I don’t want to remember my past at all.”

“The wagon train left from Brunswick, Georgia, so perhaps your home is not far from there. It will all come back,” he said hesitantly. “Just don’t rush things. I’m from the South, too, but when the war broke out, I joined the Union forces.”

He proceeded to tell her what problems that decision had caused among his Southern friends and, particularly, with Elisa’s family, who were believers in slavery and the Confederacy.

Julie was deeply sympathetic as she listened to him. “I don’t feel I would have believed in slavery,” she said firmly.

“As gentle and compassionate as you are?” he said. “No, no, Julie Marshall, not you. There’s too much warmth in your heart. You couldn’t stand to see anyone hurt.”

Julie realized she liked Adam Thatcher. He was a fine man, gentle in his way, yet severe when it came to defending something he truly believed in. She wanted his friendship. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “Thank you for wanting to help me, Adam. I know we’re going to be good friends.”

He gazed down at her, moved by her radiant, ethereal beauty. Moonlight filtering through the drifting silver clouds above bathed them, transforming the ugly stockade into a lovelier scene. He wanted to touch her, to hold her, but he didn’t dare.

Julie felt something happening to them, something that shouldn’t happen if they were going to be friends. “I’ll say good night now,” she murmured softly, knowing she had to leave right then. “Thank you for talking with me, Adam. I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”