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The Unlikely Wife
Cassandra Austin
She'd Grown Up In Frontier Forts, so if she couldn't handle a harmless kiss with a soldier, who could?Rebecca Huntington blithely declared. But she hadn't planned on her heart being captured by the likes of officer Clark Forrester, a gentleman whose "casual" kisses were anything but! If Lieutenant Clark Forrester wasn't careful, he would find himself marching down the aisle with Rebecca Huntington.And while a woman who could ride astride, beat him at chess and unnerve him just by deepening her dimples was a fascinating pastime, wooing the boss's daughter and a court-martial could go hand in hand!



Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u2e60ec2d-4acc-5bb2-b4fc-2b809a2c11fa)
Excerpt (#uf3bd13be-c7ec-5a0c-bdea-38e3a4e259ea)
Dear Reader (#u51dfc3c5-dc20-53ba-aa73-585270ffb7a0)
Title Page (#u0a0c1a94-acee-50f3-8ca3-83ce7ab03a47)
About the Author (#uab129d81-8308-5ebf-adf1-ad9a02cb83f0)
Dedication (#ubfa94782-6ce0-53c8-b3d7-18571ee615f4)
Chapter One (#ufb72dd91-78c3-561b-a07e-5672de42cec3)
Chapter Two (#ue20fa20e-2069-51e8-bbb2-10195f8e2fb8)
Chapter Three (#uda8607b9-20de-52d3-a82d-5f2fc14f7b31)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

This was not the lady’s first kiss.
Something in her blood responded. He tasted it on her lips, smelled it on her perfumed skin. Suddenly he hated the game; he wanted this to be real.

Raising his head, he let the breeze cool his face. He would have stepped away from her, but the tight space made it difficult. He waited for her eyes to open, then grinned down at her. “I pity the poor man who marries you, my dear.”

The saucy smile returned. “I should be deeply wounded by those words, Lieutenant, but with that drawl, you could say just anything. Now, tell me why you pity my future husband.”

“Because he’ll never be able to let you out of his sight.”

The dimples deepened. Her hands went around his neck, pulling him toward her as she whispered, “Why would he want to?”

“Good question.”
Dear Reader,

Entertainment Escape. Fantasy. These three words describe the heart of Harlequin Historical novels. If you want compelling, emotional stories by some of the best writers in the field, look no further.

Cassandra Austin made her writing debut in 1993 with Wait for the Sunrise, which earned her scores of fans and set the tone for her tender and emotional Westerns. Critics have described her work as “charming,” “enlightening” and “not to be missed.” Her latest, The Unlikely Wife, is all that, mingled with a delightful humor that only a heroine like the confident, flirtatious Rebecca Huntington can evoke. She is the very unusual bride of army officer Clark Forrester, and is his colonel’s daughter. Don’t miss the sparks flying!
A roguish nobleman and a shy chatelaine forced to wed prove that opposites do, indeed, attract in The Welshman’s Bride, another terrific medieval story by the talented Margaret Moore. Author Janet Kendall makes her writing debut with Hunter of My Heart, an exciting Regency tale about two Scottish nobles bribed into marrying to protect their past secrets.
Rounding out the month is Maggie and the Maverick, the last of Laurie Grant’s DEVLIN BROTHERS books. Wounded in the war, single dad Garrick Devlin reconstructs his life with the help of a dainty Texas Yankee who wins his respect and teaches him to love again.
Whatever your tastes in reading, you’ll be sure to find a romantic journey back to the past between the covers of a Harlequin Historical® novel.

Sincerely,
Tracy Farrell
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Harlequin Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

The Unlikely Wife
Cassandra Austin





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CASSANDRA AUSTIN
has always lived in north central Kansas, and was raised on museums and arrowhead hunts; when she began writing, America’s Old West seemed the natural setting. A full-time writer, she is involved in her church’s activities as well as the activities of her three grown-tonearly-grown children. Her husband farms, and they live in the house where he grew up. To write to her, send a SASE to: Cassandra Austin, Box 162, Clyde, KS 66938.
To Jonathan, Eden and Paul

For all the times you let me write when you would rather have had cookies. You turned into fine adults anyway.

Chapter One (#ulink_d2c22dc7-dd64-5439-893f-5a0c6c1cff98)
Kansas, 1867
“The window’s so dirty I can barely see out,” Cousin Alicia Evans said.
“There’s nothing to see anyway,” responded Aunt Belle.
Rebecca Huntington’s only response to her companions’ conversation was a muttered “Hmm,” which she assumed they took as agreement. She didn’t agree, however. She leaned slightly into the aisle, quite pleased with the view. Since the train had pulled out of Kansas City that morning, she had been keeping close watch on the activities of a very good-looking soldier. His uniform told her he was a cavalry lieutenant. He was clean-shaven, something slightly unusual in the West. She thought his choice to shave could have been vanity; he had the most magnificent jaw she had ever seen, strong, square and welldefined. It would have been a shame to cover it.
He had left the car some time ago and had only just returned, stopping to talk to someone in a forward seat and giving her a wonderful opportunity to admire his profile. One hand rested on the back of the seat as he bent slightly forward. Rebecca marveled at how easily he braced himself against the train’s erratic rocking.
He ended the conversation and straightened, turning toward the rear of the car. Rebecca jerked upright but continued to watch. Three steps down the aisle, his eyes met hers. His were gray, quite a charming contrast to the tanned face and charcoal lashes.
She thought his step might have faltered when he caught her watching him, but it could have been the jerking of the train. His face didn’t register surprise, even when she refused to turn demurely away. He tipped his campaign hat, and a dark lock slid free to settle against his brow. “Ma’am,” he murmured.
Rebecca smiled, well aware that the dimples that appeared in her cheeks had a devastating effect on some men. “Lieutenant.”
He didn’t stop, and in two steps he was past. Rebecca was wondering what excuse she could use to stand and look behind her when a sharp pain on her knee made her jump.
“Don’t do that!” Aunt Belle snapped open her weapon and fanned herself briskly.
Rebecca tried not to scowl. The woman, of course, felt compelled to act as chaperone to both girls. At twenty, Rebecca considered herself fully grown and had for some time. Alicia might need her mother’s restrictions, she thought, since she was still a child of sixteen.
“Don’t do what?” Rebecca asked, feigning innocence.
Belle hissed, “Don’t smile at strange men.”
“Oh, Aunt Belle, he’s an officer. I’ve been around them all my life. Most of them are gentlemen.” She gave her companion a dimpled smile, afraid it would have little or no effect on her.
“Don’t smile at strange gentlemen, either.” With this pronouncement of decorum, the older woman returned her attention to the nearly opaque window.
Rebecca wasn’t ready to let it go. “He’s a soldier. He deserves a civil greeting.”
Belle didn’t glance at her. “That wasn’t a civil greeting.”
Pretty little Alicia was eyeing her with a combination of fear and awe. Alicia rarely defied her mother, and she never, ever flirted with men. While the look begged her to behave, Rebecca knew Alicia would be disappointed if she did.
She stretched, a most unladylike activity since it would have been impossible to accomplish if she actually wore the corset the other women assumed she did. “It’s quite stuffy in here,” she murmured. “I believe I’ll take a breath of air on the platform. Would either of you care to join me?”
Both women stared at her. Aunt Belle found her voice first. “Is that safe? Why, the train’s moving so fast you could tumble off.”
Rebecca blinked innocently. “It does happen occasionally. Still, if one is careful…” She let her voice trail off as if she were doubtful. She looked from one shocked face to the other. “No? Well, I’ll only be a few minutes.”
She stepped into the aisle and, pretending to take a moment to gain her balance, searched the rear seats for the lieutenant. She was lucky on two counts. He faced in her direction, and he hadn’t put his hat over his face to try to sleep. It took no effort at all to get him to notice her. She walked slowly past, smiling sweetly. As she opened the door at the rear of the car, she cast a glance over her shoulder, pleased that he was watching.
Lieutenant Clark Forrester enjoyed the view of swaying hips as the young lady left the car. Her message couldn’t have been clearer if she had sent a telegram. He relaxed, giving her a minute to wonder if he was coming. He knew the game. First she must pretend to be shocked at being alone with a man, then she would relent and agree to talk for a few minutes. If he said all the right things, he might be lucky enough to win a kiss.
Of course, if they were caught, she would have to slap his face and he would have to take it to save her pride. That was the gamble. He didn’t have to wonder if it was worth it. No man who had ever been stationed on the frontier passed up a chance to spend time with a woman, let alone a beautiful one. The next chance could be months away.
Deciding he had left her in suspense long enough, he glanced toward her companions. They weren’t watching, and he rose, placing his hat in his seat so it wouldn’t be blown away, and slipped out the door. The gallant soldier-to-the-rescue was always an acceptable image, he thought, but, before he could express his concern for her safety, she turned from the railing and smiled.
“The hills are lovely, aren’t they, Lieutenant?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” The hills? The hills were lonely and barren and, though it was only June, already burned to a yellow-brown by the sun. But she was most certainly lovely. “It’s hard to even notice the scenery when I have you to look at instead.”
“Charmingly said. Come stand beside me so we don’t have to shout above the wind.” She turned away to gaze at the passing hills.
Clark hesitated. She wasn’t following the rules, and it left him unsure of his next move. The wind was blowing, of course; it was always blowing on the prairie, but, even with the constant clatter of the train, in such a small space there was no need to shout to be heard. The edge of the platform with the lovely young lady was only a step away and narrow enough that if he stood beside her, he would be standing against her. He took the step.
“I’ve been gone for six years. It’ll be wonderful to get home,” she said. “Where are you from, soldier?”
“Virginia, ma’am.”
“I thought I heard it in your voice.” She was now directly in front of him, her upturned face only inches away. He wasn’t sure how much longer he ought to wait, how much longer he could wait.
“And what would take you away for six years and leave you homesick for the prairie?” He put one hand gently on her waist, ready to remove it at the slightest sign that he was acting too quickly.
“The war first. And an education,” she said, still smiling.
Clark grinned. Now he knew the game. “Did they teach you everything you wanted to know?”
The young lady shook her head, her smile gradually fading as her whiskey-colored eyes darkened. Time to call or fold.
He lowered his head slowly, watching her eyes drift shut before his lips found hers. He kept the touch as gentle as possible, allowing her the choice of pulling away. When he felt no hesitation on her part, he brought his free hand up to her neck, urging her closer.
Her lips parted sweetly, and her tongue met his. This was not the lady’s first kiss. But he wouldn’t hold that against her. His arms tightened and felt warm, firm flesh beneath several layers of cloth. No whalebone or steel cinched this slender waist The realization made his pulse leap.
Something in her blood responded. He tasted it on her lips, smelled it on her perfumed skin. Suddenly he hated the game; he wanted this to be real.
Raising his head, he let the breeze cool his face. He would step away from her, but the tight space made it difficult. He waited for her eyes to open, then grinned down at her. “I pity the poor man who marries you, my dear.”
The saucy smile returned. “I should be deeply wounded by those words, Lieutenant, but with that soft Virginia drawl you could say just anything. Now, tell me why you pity my future husband.”
“Because, he’ll never be able to let you out of his sight.”
The dimples deepened. She leaned against him, standing on her toes. Her hands went around his neck, pulling him toward her as she whispered, “Why would he want to?”
“Good question.”
Clark took the willing lips again, knowing that she had all the cards stacked in her favor. He would take only the liberties she allowed, and when she decided to cash in her chips, the game would be over. She had picked her time and place well. He wasn’t fool enough to think he was anything more than her idea of a little adventure.
After a long leisurely kiss, she sank away from him with a trembling sigh. “I really must go back,” she whispered.
He nodded. “I’ll stay out here a few minutes, of course.”
“Do be careful,” she said, slipping away from him. In a moment she had gone inside and closed the door.
“Careful,” he murmured, resting his head against the car behind him. “You, too.” Someday that little minx was going to play with the wrong man. Or some poor fool would fall in love with her and not know it was hopeless. But not today.
Rebecca took her seat, noticing with pleasure that Aunt Belle had fallen asleep. Alicia, however, was wide-awake. “You were gone so long, I was worried,” she whispered.
“There’s a rail all around the platform. You would have to try to fall,” Rebecca assured her in quiet tones.
“That’s not what I meant.” Alicia glanced furtively at her mother and lowered her voice until Rebecca could hardly hear it. “Was he a gentleman?”
Rebecca giggled and bit her lip. Nothing roused Aunt Belle’s suspicion like merriment. “Barely,” she whispered.
She knew Alicia was aware of her fondness for men. Alicia had come to her rescue a couple of times when Rebecca had nearly been caught sneaking in or out. Though Rebecca looked on the little flirtations and stolen kisses as innocent fun, Aunt Belle saw them as signs of loose character. Rebecca knew her father was treated to every detail in his sister’s letters. At least every detail Belle knew or imagined. And that was part of the reason Rebecca hesitated to share too much of her escapades with her young cousin. What she didn’t know, her mother couldn’t force out of her.
Something else held her back, as well. This lieutenant was older than the others, more experienced. He had been a dangerous choice. She had a feeling that in another place he wouldn’t have stopped with a kiss. The notion wasn’t as alarming as it should have been.
Alicia was watching her expectantly. Rebecca grinned at her. “He pronounces prairie like it ends with a, and says the most charming things.”
“Will you see him again?”
“Of course not” Rebecca heard more conviction in her voice than she felt.
“What if he insists?”
“Alicia,” Rebecca hissed. “He won’t insist. He’s a gentleman.”
“Barely.”
Rebecca scowled at her cousin, wishing she’d be quiet. She wanted to sit and savor the warmth that still tingled in her stomach. That was by far the best kiss ever. In fact, this was the first time she wanted to corner the same man a second time. She wondered if she could see him again. No, that was a bad idea. If they met under any other circumstances now, he might think she was a loose woman and expect more than a couple of kisses.
Too bad, she thought. He was incredibly charming.

When the train pulled into the station at Fort Riley, Clark was more than ready to get off. If he had to hear the dark-haired girl’s voice or see the top of her head for much longer, he would be hustling her back out to the platform. He had no explanation for his reaction to her flirtation. It was the kind of thing he ran into often enough. On this trip back home, two different women had practiced their wiles on him. Neither had left him feeling confused the way this young lady had.
He got his bag and left the station, resisting the urge to see where the girl went. There were more important things to think about. At the post commander’s headquarters, he dropped his bag beside the door and entered. Answering the orderly’s salute, he requested a meeting with General Hale.
While the orderly stepped into the inner office, Clark took a look around the room. All headquarters looked much the same, dark and bare with only a few reflections of the person in charge. This is what my life has become, he thought, dark and bare. The observation had come to him once before, also after a visit home. Home? Virginia was hardly that anymore; he had been out here too long.
The orderly interrupted Clark’s thoughts. “Please go in, Lieutenant,” he said.
Clark nodded and entered the office. General Hale stood behind his desk, offering his hand and dismissing Clark’s salute. “We’ve been expecting you. Welcome back to the West, Lieutenant,” he said. “Did you have a pleasant trip home?”
“Yes, sir.” Clark stood at ease as the general took his seat
“I understand you’ve been at Fort Dodge and are to report to Fort Hays. You know they moved again?” He didn’t wait for a response. “They were flooded out on the eighth. Moved farther west and closer to where the railroad will run. Colonel Huntington requested more men as well as supplies. These are due to leave…” he consulted a ledger on his desk “…in two days. I’m putting you in charge.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I believe you know Sergeant Whiting. He’s been here working with the new recruits you’ll be taking with you. He’ll see about your quarters and anything else you need.” The general’s attention had already been drawn back to the papers on his desk. “Was there anything else?”
After the formalities of dismissal, Clark turned to leave the office. The orderly caught the door as he opened it, stepping aside and entering the inner office behind him. The door swung shut before Clark noticed three women waiting in the outer room. They all turned in his direction, but the dark-haired girl with the dimples was the only one he truly saw.
Habit let him walk past the orderly’s desk toward the outside door. He managed a polite, “Ladies,” as he passed. His hand was on the doorknob when the general burst from his office.
“Rebecca! This can’t be little Becky Huntington! Why, dear child, you’re all grown up!”
Clark managed to step outside and close the door gently behind him. He lifted his bag and stepped off the boardwalk with no real sense of what he was doing. Rebecca Huntington? Colonel Huntington? His daughter, no doubt. And he wasn’t lucky enough for the general to be addressing the blond girl. He had heard the returned greeting and recognized the dark-haired girl’s voice.
If the incident on the train became common knowledge, the good colonel would not look on it quite the way he did. And the little minx could be expected to protect herself above all else. He could find himself up to his bars in trouble.
* * *
In the headquarters building, Rebecca tried not to wonder about the lieutenant’s purpose. She returned General Hale’s greeting and introduced her traveling companions. “My aunt and cousin will be living with Father and me at Fort Hays,” she explained. “I heard you were here and couldn’t pass through Fort Riley without dropping in to see you.”
“Myrtle will be overjoyed. You’ll all stay with us, of course. Let me take you to the house. Masters, see about a carriage.”
The orderly saluted smartly and left, and the general saw to chairs for the ladies. “How long will we have the pleasure of your company?”
Rebecca seated herself primly in the straightbacked chair before she answered. “Only until tomorrow. We’ll be taking the train to the end of the track, then a coach on to Fort Hays.”
“Oh, but my dear, the coaches have stopped!”
“Stopped?” croaked Belle. “How have they stopped?”
Hale leaned against the orderly’s desk, crossing his feet at the ankles. “I don’t mean to alarm you fair ladies, but there has been an uprising, and all the civilian coaches have stopped until the hostiles have been remanded to reservations.”
“Indians?” Alicia and Belle said together, the former with more awe and less terror than the latter.
“I insist that you wait here,” Hale continued, folding his arms. “The end of the track is Ellsworth. We’re not even running supplies through there yet Last I heard they have but four completed buildings, three of which are saloons.”
“But surely the army hasn’t stopped moving,” Rebecca said. Much as she liked General Hale and his wife, she didn’t want to wait here. Ending the uprising could take all summer, and she wanted to see her father and get settled again. “When is the next supply caravan?”
“In two days. But that isn’t fit transportation for gentlewomen like yourselves.” Rebecca thought his smile was somewhat condescending. Before she could retort, he continued, “Your father didn’t plan an escort of any kind? I’d like to, but…”
Rebecca sat forward. “Excuse me, General, but if there are Indians to be caught, I doubt if either of you can spare the men. No, the caravan will do.” Rebecca didn’t turn to see her companions’ reactions to her pronouncement. The general’s dubious smile was enough.
“Dear girl,” he began, but the orderly chose that moment to return and announce their carriage was ready. General Hale ushered them out of the headquarters and helped them one by one into the carriage. He drove them personally to his quarters, a house near enough that Rebecca could easily have walked the distance in the time it had taken to hitch up the carriage.
Myrtle Hale greeted them effusively and her husband left, promising to send Masters to the train station for their trunks. Myrtle sent her maid scurrying to find places for them to sleep while she led them to a tiny, overdecorated room that served as a parlor. The room was dark; its one small window was covered with heavy drapes of faded maroon. But it was cooler than it had been outside.
“Please sit down,” Myrtle directed. “I’ll put water on for tea.”
“Pardon me,” Belle murmured. “If you’ll direct me to the privy…”
“Of course. Make yourselves comfortable, girls.”
The moment the older women were gone Alicia whispered, “That was your young lieutenant in the general’s office.”
Rebecca nodded, not wanting them to be overheard. She crossed the room to sit in an ornately carved chair.
Alicia followed. She picked up a china figure from the table next to Rebecca, but instead of inspecting it cast a furtive glance toward the door. Rebecca could see a faint circle where the figure had been. Now that she had seen it, she could smell the dust. Aunt Belle would be shocked but Rebecca knew how difficult it was to keep the dust out when the wind blew nearly all the time.
“But what’s he doing here?” Alicia whispered.
Rebecca shrugged and tried to sound bored. “He’s a soldier. This is a fort. He probably belongs here.” Why, in heaven’s name, didn’t I think of that? She let her fingers trace the carvings in the arm of the chair.
Alicia replaced the figure and was silent for a long moment. “I wish I could be like you,” she sighed, sinking into a chair opposite Rebecca.
Rebecca raised a questioning eyebrow.
“The way you talk to men, I mean, and flirt.” She giggled a little, and Rebecca imagined her remembering her bold perusal of the lieutenant on the train. She suppressed a groan. “If they even look at me,” Alicia went on, “I turn suddenly stupid.”
“Some men like that,” Rebecca said.
Alicia smiled, a gentle, knowing smile that always caught Rebecca by surprise. “But I don’t like the men that do.”
“Do what?” Belle entered the parlor and looked around. She chose a large padded chair near the door and, as she settled into it, began fanning herself. “Is it always this hot?”
“It’s a little unusual this early in the summer,” Rebecca offered, hoping Aunt Belle would forget the comment she had overheard. “We get some lovely weather in September.”
“This whole trip has been more misery than anything else,” Belle muttered.
Rebecca bit her tongue. Father had told her once his sister felt things more sharply than others. Her own assessment was less charitable. Yet she tried to be patient. After all, both Belle and Alicia were in mourning.
Myrtle came with the tea tray, offering each a lovely china cup and saucer. “Just one cup, and I’ll let you rest. You must all be exhausted from your trip. I find train travel so tedious.”.
Alicia and Belle groaned their agreement while Rebecca opened her mouth to disagree. Feeling outnumbered, she settled into the uncomfortable chair as best she could and listened to the others talk. When the maid announced that a room had been made ready where they could rest, the women rose. Rebecca expressed a desire to walk. The others eyed her with considerable surprise but didn’t argue.
Alicia caught her arm and held her back as the older women left the room. “Are you going to look for your lieutenant?” she whispered.
“He’s not my lieutenant,” Rebecca hissed.
“What will you do if you meet him?”
“I’ll…” Oh drat, what would she do? “Come with me,” she suggested impulsively, taking her cousin’s hand.
Alicia shrank away from her. “I can’t now. I’m too tired. And what would Mother say?”
Rebecca let her go. She resigned herself to staying at the house. In the kitchen she washed her face, then filled a tall glass with water to take with her to the porch. There were no chairs so Rebecca sat on the top step and listened to the flag snap as she sipped her water.
The row of three officers’ quarters faced another row across the parade ground. The barracks buildings made up the other two sides of the square. There was very little going on in this part of the fort this time of the day. She longed to visit the sutler’s store, to walk past the blacksmith’s shop, the saddler’s, the carpenter’s, to see if they had changed since her last visit. But she couldn’t risk running into the lieutenant.
She leaned against the porch post and closed her eyes. Why should he have such an effect on her? All her other conquests had been easy to dismiss. She should dismiss him as well and take her walk. She had nearly resolved to do just that when she thought of coming face-to-face with him. Her pulse raced just imagining it. She would probably blush and stammer like Alicia.
She would have liked to examine her surprising reaction a bit more, but she saw the general approaching. She quickly rose and went to meet him. “I didn’t expect you so soon, General.”
“I managed to get away a little early. Are the others resting?”
“I believe so.” Rebecca resumed her seat on the stairs and pulled the general down beside her. “Can’t we really go with the supply train?”
“My dear, you’re all welcome here until the coaches are running again. It’ll make a much more comfortable trip.”
Rebecca let her eyes do the pleading. “Every time we moved when I was young we would travel with the garrison. And don’t tell me Aunt Belle isn’t used to it. Mama wasn’t either until her first trip.”
“But the uprising…”
“Indians virtually never attack large groups of soldiers unless cornered.” A glance at Hale showed how little effect her words had. She cast her eyes downward. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen Father.” Why was it that whimpering worked better with men than logic?
“But—” He hesitated.
Rebecca turned away and said in a small voice, “If it’s impossible, I understand.” That would have been the coup de grace with Father.
“Don’t cry, dear. Are you so eager to leave us?”
Rebecca kept her dry eyes averted and shrugged her shoulders delicately.
“Well, now, I can see how it is. But I don’t feel right ordering someone to take you. Perhaps you should talk to the officer I put in charge of the expedition. If he’s agreeable, I’ll let you go.”
Rebecca threw her arms around his neck. “Oh thank you, General,” she said, keeping her voice soft and a trifle shaky as she slipped from his arms. “Who is he? I’ll go talk to him now.”
“Name’s Forrester. I believe he’ll be camping near the commissary building. He’s likely very busy now. Perhaps you should wait until morning.”
“Yes, of course,” Rebecca said. In the morning she could contrive to look less wilted.
“I better tell Myrtle I’m home. If I know her, she’s busy with plans for an officer’s ball to honor our guests. She’ll be wanting my orderly to notify everyone.”
Rebecca smiled and waved to him as he came to his feet and left her. She had plans of her own to make. This Forrester, whoever he was, would have trouble denying her request.

Shortly after breakfast, before the day had a chance to become miserably hot, Rebecca made her way toward the commissary. She had put on one of her most flattering dresses, not at all suitable for travel but exactly what she needed to convince Forrester that he wanted three women with his supply caravan. Every soldier she met offered directions. She gave them each a grateful smile, though she was well aware of where she was going.
She saw the tent from a considerable distance. As she confidently approached it she noticed the officer, bent over a field desk. Alerted perhaps by a chorus of “mornin’, ma’am,” the officer came to his feet. The clean-shaven jaw beneath the shadow of the campaign hat belonged to her lieutenant from the train.
What incredibly rotten luck. Her footsteps faltered as she felt a strong desire to turn back. Pride kept her moving toward the lieutenant and put her brightest smile on her lips. “So you’re Lieutenant Forrester?”
He doffed his hat, placing it under his arm, and stood almost at attention. “At your service, Miss Huntington.”
Rebecca bit her lip as she watched him. He was cool and formal; the softly accented voice wasn’t nearly as charming now that it lacked its former warmth. A quick glance told her there was no one close enough to overhear. Still she kept her voice low. “I came to talk about leaving with the supply wagons tomorrow, but perhaps we should talk about what happened on the train.”
“What happened on the train, ma’am? I dallied with the colonel’s daughter. I am aware that I could find myself accused of conduct unbecoming an officer. Are you here to make a deal?”
Rebecca knew her eyes had widened and her mouth was nearly hanging open. She surely looked like an idiot, but she couldn’t help it. “Oh dear,” she murmured. After a deep shaky breath, she managed a tiny smile. “I was hoping to persuade you not to think too badly of me, but I can see I’m too late.”
She had counted on her words softening him, but they seemed to have no effect His face was as unmoving as his taut body. She gave up all efforts at smiling and whispered, “I’m not a loose woman, Lieutenant.”
“I know that.”
His words offered small comfort. Her hands were shaking, a most unwanted reaction to this man, and she clutched them firmly behind her back. “I just wanted you to kiss me.”
“And I did.” He paused for a moment, and she thought she finally saw a flicker of warmth in his gray eyes. “But it won’t happen again.”
“Pity.” Rebecca knew it was not the ladylike thing to say, but it was the God’s truth. She felt a wave of relief when he gave her a slight nod in agreement
“That it is,” he whispered.
Rebecca gazed at the handsome face, wishing he would smile. His pale eyes, full lips and wonderful jaw brought back very pleasant memories. She shook herself, remembering her errand. “I came to ask if my companions and I could travel with the wagons tomorrow.”
“Do I have a choice, ma’am?”
“If I say yes, will you think better of me?” She smiled her brightest smile and watched for a reaction.
“Perhaps,” he said, as cool as ever.
“Enough that you’ll agree to let us go?” Her smile was beginning to falter. With his next words, it died completely.
“That’s doubtful.”
His oh-so-military bearing and polite-but-cold responses were beginning to wear on Rebecca’s patience. She felt herself close to losing her temper, a big mistake, she knew. She took another deep breath and tried not to grit her teeth. “I’m sure I can convince the general to order you to take us along.”
“I’m aware of that, Miss Huntington.”
They stared at each other for a long moment It took all Rebecca’s resolve to keep from turning away. She broke the standoff with a question she hoped would be appeasing. “What is your main objection to our going?”
“The civilian coaches have stopped for a reason, ma’am. It would be far safer for you to remain here until the problem has been dealt with.”
“But they haven’t attacked soldiers.”
“Not yet, ma’am, but three women along might be all the added temptation they need. I understand they’ve already taken hostages.”
Rebecca considered his words. She certainly didn’t want to put the soldiers in more danger by her presence. With a sigh, she said, “I’ll discuss it with the general,” and turned to go.
“I’m sure you will.”
She didn’t acknowledge his last words.
Clark stood until the swaying bustle had disappeared then sat, staring at the papers in front of him. He had to reconcile himself to the flirt’s presence on the caravan. He hadn’t been honest with her; it wasn’t the Indians he was worried about. It was the trouble she would cause among the troops. She wasn’t the type of woman any man found easy to ignore.

Chapter Two (#ulink_22735edf-fbf5-5f0f-8a25-fc2517240027)
Rebecca felt like dancing. And of course that was exactly what she would be doing soon, though probably not with the handsome young lieutenant.
After she had left him early that morning, she had gone to General Hale’s office. She had said the lieutenant was reluctant to take them, skirting the fact that he had flatly refused. She had suggested a word from the general about her lifelong experience with the army might allay his fears. A mention of her devotion to her father. An allusion to the need of her grieving aunt and cousin to’ be settled in a loving home.
The general didn’t bite.
Next she had gone home, hoping to enlist the help of Aunt Belle, but found her in the midst of planning a ball with Myrtle and incapable of worrying about anything else. In fact, she suspected that the older woman wasn’t particularly excited about venturing into what she called the wilderness.
Shortly before Hale was expected home for lunch, Rebecca had found an onion in the kitchen, rubbed her fingertips against its sliced side, and waited for the general on the porch steps.
Where logic had failed, tears won. The general assured her he would order the lieutenant to take them and make an ambulance available for their use. The afternoon had been devoted to altering some clothes with Alicia as her skilled, though doubtful assistant.
Now Rebecca sat in the Hale kitchen while Alicia pulled her dark thick tresses into a fashionable coil. With the bulk of it pinned in place and decorated with a carved alabaster comb, Alicia turned to retrieve the curling iron from the stove. Rebecca had already fixed her cousin’s hair and fat blond ringlets caressed the curve of her bare shoulder and neck.
“Every man at the dance will want to touch those curls,” Rebecca said.
Alicia gave her a shy smile. “You did a wonderful job, Rebecca.”
“I wasn’t complimenting my work, I was complimenting the way you look.”
Alicia shrugged. “Hold still. I don’t want to burn you.”
With great care, Alicia turned the wisps of hair around Rebecca’s face to tiny curls, then nodded her satisfaction. “Now all we have to do is wait for Mother.”
“I don’t think Mrs. Hale will allow her to dawdle much longer,” Rebecca said. “She’s certain the dance won’t start without her, and she may be right.”
“Let’s wait in the parlor,” Alicia suggested. “It’s so warm in here we’re liable to wilt. We want the curls to last until the fourth dance.”
“Ah, yes,” Rebecca agreed, slipping her arm through Alicia’s and leaving the kitchen with her. “And anyone who is still in perfect order by the fourth dance hasn’t been dancing and will remain a wallflower the rest of the night”
Alicia sighed dramatically. “Do you know how often I’ve had to run out during the fourth dance to splash a little water in my face and tug at my curls?”
Rebecca shook her head. “Never, I’d wager, unless you were turning the poor boys away. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror, cousin? You’re beautiful!”
To Rebecca’s frustration Alicia shook her head, the pink blush that came to her cheeks making her all the more appealing. “I’m serious, Alicia. You could have all the men falling at your feet with the least bit of flirting. It works for me, and I’m too tall and too skinny and my hair’s impossibly ordinary.”
“And those dimples in your cheeks are just horrid, too.”
Rebecca grinned. “So I have one overworked asset. Men give you more attention than you want, and I have to work so hard to get any.” She gave an exaggerated and unconvincing sigh.
“I saw how hard you worked on the lieutenant. One smile and he would have followed you…well, he did follow you.”
“I know I shouldn’t do it,” Rebecca said, feeling unrepentant in spite of her words. “But they are so nice to touch and…kiss.”
“They? Men in general? Don’t you believe in love?”
“Oh, Lord, I hope not!”
Alicia gave a startled laugh. “Rebecca! All women want to fall in love.”
Rebecca shook her head. “Not me. I think it’s wonderful fun to…to…dazzle a man. It’d be hard to do that with a husband around.”
Alicia looked truly shocked. “You’re awful!”
They heard footsteps on the stairs and knew the others were finally ready. Rebecca leaned close to Alicia and whispered. “True. And I’m willing to teach you everything I know.”
They had to take a carriage to the dance so the ladies wouldn’t ruin their slippers on the way. Alicia was almost giddy, and Rebecca guessed she was torn between wanting to flirt with the men and wanting to hide behind a potted plant. The girl really was shy.
“This is just lovely,” Myrtle said for the fifth time. “We get so few guests.”
“The hall was decorated this afternoon,” Hale said. “My wife called in an entire troop of officers’ wives.”
Myrtle nudged her husband with her elbow. “Don’t you dare make any remark about them being at my command. They all volunteered to help when I told them about our guests.”
The moment the general entered the hall a small band struck up a waltz. Hale escorted his wife to the center of the floor. Myrtle smiled regally as her husband danced her around the room, and in a few minutes a few others joined them on the floor.
“You’d think she was the queen,” Alicia whispered.
“In this society, she is,” Rebecca answered.
“And you will be when you get to Hays. The commanding officer’s daughter.”
Rebecca moved her cousin away from the door to a spot where they could better watch the crowd. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she said. Her eyes scanned the faces, looking for a particular lieutenant.
“The social leader,” Alicia added near her ear. “The standard for propriety.”
“I think I’ll abdicate.”
“There he is.”
“Who?” Rebecca asked innocently, though her eyes had fallen on Forrester at the moment her cousin had spoken.
“Your lieutenant. Will he ask you to dance?”
“I doubt it. If he does, he’ll probably step on my toes—on purpose.”
Before Alicia could reply she was claimed by a young officer. Rebecca smiled as her cousin was whirled away. Soon she was asked as well. After three dances with six different partners, she pleaded exhaustion and sought out the refreshment table.
After a moment Alicia joined her. “I believe I’m adequately wilted, don’t you?”
“In the loveliest sense,” Rebecca said. “Are you having fun?”
Alicia nodded, sipping her punch daintily. “I haven’t dazzled anyone, though.”
Rebecca was about to answer when a decidedly wilted Aunt Belle huffed up beside them. “I’m nearly done in. I’m sure I shouldn’t dance, but Mrs. Hale said it would be cruel not to, there being so few women. How are you girls faring?”
“Quite well, Aunt Belle,” Rebecca answered. “Aren’t the decorations lovely?”
When Belle turned to look around her, Rebecca tipped her head at Alicia indicating her desire to move father from the refreshments.
“They look like leftover Independence Day banners.”
“Yes, I suppose,” Rebecca agreed with a grin. “But they go so well with the gold buttons, don’t you think?”
Beside her Alicia muffled a giggle. Aunt Belle didn’t seem amused. “They’re brass,” she said, pointedly.
Rebecca looked out across the room, taking in the host of blue uniforms, buttons, bars, and braid. “It’s all in how you look at it,” she murmured. “Oh, Aunt Belle, you look absolutely drained. You had better get some punch.”
“Yes, I suppose.”
As soon as the older woman turned away, Rebecca steered her cousin toward an unoccupied corner, leaning close to whisper, “Who would you like to dazzle?”
“Besides your young lieutenant?”
Rebecca glanced up and caught him watching her. She had been at least half aware of where he was all evening. Alicia noticed the slip and the gleam in her blue eyes was positively wicked. Rebecca was almost tempted to turn her loose on him, just to show her she wouldn’t be jealous. Almost. Considering it made her want to grit her teeth. Lord, she would be jealous! Hoping to hide her feelings from her cousin she said lightly, “We better leave him alone. He’s been dazzled recently. It’s a little like being burned.”
“That’s awful, Rebecca. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
Rebecca shushed her cousin, looking quickly around to be sure they hadn’t been overheard. “I didn’t hurt him,” she whispered emphatically. “He’s just not thrilled that we’re going with him tomorrow, and he thinks I’d use the…uh…encounter on the train against him if he refused.”
“But wouldn’t that reflect as badly on you as him?”
“Not the way he thinks I’d tell it. Oh, Alicia it gets complicated. Take my word, and pick out somebody else.”
While Alicia was making her choice, Rebecca glanced again in Forrester’s direction. Lord, he was still watching her!
“That one,” Alicia whispered, “with the mustache.”
“Ah, a colonel! Very good, Alicia! Now, you need to watch him until he looks in your direction. Make eye contact, then give him a smile.”
“All right,” Alicia whispered. “But don’t you look at him at all, or he’ll ask you to dance instead.”
“I’ll plead exhaustion and push you into his arms.”
Clark couldn’t hear what the ladies were saying, but they had been whispering together for quite some time, and Miss Huntington had glanced in his direction more than once. He hoped he made her nervous, but he seriously doubted it.
He wanted to dance with her. It was ridiculous, but true. He wanted to feel her warm body move against his again. He wanted to know if she had given in to convention and worn a corset. And he hated to think that half a dozen other men already knew.
He realized he had actually started toward her and tried to stop himself. Instead, he thought of excuses for asking her to dance. They would be traveling together; they should be on friendly terms. He didn’t want her imagining that he was afraid of her. He didn’t want to pass up a chance to touch her.
He had made his way across two-thirds of the room when he noticed another man doing the same. The minx seemed to have set her sights on a colonel. Well, why was he surprised? The room probably looked like a huge buffet to her. He had only imagined her glances in his direction.
He stopped and waited for the colonel to claim her. He would dance one dance with the blonde, then leave. He hadn’t wanted to come in the first place. To his surprise, when the colonel moved onto the dance floor, it was the blonde he had on his arm. Miss Huntington was standing alone, holding two cups and smiling after them like a proud mother.
He moved quickly to her side. “Your cousin’s a fast learner,” he said.
She wasn’t surprised to see him, but the comment had taken her off guard. She gave herself a moment then smiled up at him. “Why, whatever do you mean?”
The little tease was mimicking his accent. He would ignore it. “You were instructing her in the fine art of flirting, weren’t you? It’s probably quite a challenge teaching someone something that comes so naturally to you.”
Her dimples deepened. “I do my best. Oh, look, here comes General Hale.”
Her means of escape, if that was what she wanted. And his, too. But he didn’t want to escape.
Rebecca spoke to the general before he came to a complete stop beside her. “General, your wife has given such a lovely party. We’re having a wonderful time.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, my dear. Lieutenant.”
Clark returned the greeting. He should excuse himself. He would. At the moment he opened his mouth, he felt her hand come down lightly on his arm. The cups were stacked in her other hand, and her attention was on the general. He looked down at the hand to make sure he hadn’t imagined it.
“General, could you do me a favor?”
What trouble did the lady have in mind?
“Anything, my dear,” the general said gallantly. Clark wanted to groan.
“Take care of our cups, will you? The lieutenant has just asked me to dance.”
It happened so quickly he felt a little light-headed. One moment he was ready to face General Hale’s displeasure, the next the dark-haired beauty was in his arms. After a moment he said, “I don’t recall asking you to dance.”
“But you did!” she declared, the picture of innocence. He opened his mouth to disagree only to have her add, “Your eyes did, at any rate.”
“I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it.”
She smiled up at him, her eyes dancing. “I’ll admit I might have seen what I wanted to. But if I hadn’t claimed this dance, you and the general would have started talking about army business, and I would have been bored to death with no graceful way of escape. No one’s asked me to dance for just ages.”
“Two dances.” At her surprised look he clarified, “You haven’t danced for two dances.”
“Keeping track, Lieutenant?”
Clark sighed and held her closer, spinning her around, hoping to distract her. The best policy for dealing with this young lady was to keep his mouth shut. She seemed content to dance, probably savoring her victory. He decided to savor the sensation of her in his arms. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed to feel the stays of a corset under the fabric of her dress.
She sighed gently; he felt it more than heard it. Probably calculated seduction. He would hate for her to know how well it was working. He wanted to hustle her outside to some lonely spot and claim at least a kiss. He didn’t dare. And she knew it.
Her right hand in his left shifted slightly. It felt like a caress, though it was probably calculated as well. They had begun the dance with their hands in the normal position, but now her fingers were wrapped around his thumb. It made her hand look small, vulnerable. A dangerous illusion, he decided.
When the music stopped, they broke away to join in the smattering of applause. He was torn between his desire to ask for another dance and his conviction that his only chance of leaving with a shred of dignity was to leave at once.
“Thank you, Miss Huntington. It’s been a pleasure.”
“Does it have to end so soon? There doesn’t seem to be a line of partners waiting for their turns.”
“Spread that smile around, and there will be. Good night, ma’am.”
Rebecca watched him go. She couldn’t believe she had flirted with him. Of course, it was almost automatic. But he already thought so poorly of her she should have left him alone. And he hadn’t responded at all!
Someone tapped her shoulder. “Would you care to dance?”
She shook her head, waving him away with barely a glance, her attention still on the door through which the lieutenant had gone. How could he be so immune to her when he did such wonderful things to her senses? Her heart was still racing, her fingers were .tingling. No doubt, her cheeks were flushed, perhaps even feverish. And he casually walked away.
After a gentlemanly compliment, true, but still he found her easy to resist. In fact, he had barely talked to her. She felt a smile tug at her lips and let it spread across her face. He had barely talked after he admitted to watching her all evening.
Clark sat behind the field desk, fighting the wind as he went through the last of the figures Sergeant Whiting had provided. The train was due to leave in one hour, but he had a feeling they would be delayed waiting for the women in whatever accommodation General Hale had deemed appropriate. As ordered.
He heard unhurried footsteps and caught a glimpse of uniformed legs on the other side of his desk. “One moment, soldier,” he said, marking his place and placing a rock on the stack of papers. He looked up at his visitor. And leaped to his feet, sending his chair crashing to the ground behind him.
“Miss Huntington?” It was a stupid question. Of course it was Miss Huntington. But she was dressed in a cavalry private’s uniform. He supposed he should be glad she hadn’t decided to outrank him. Her glossy black hair was pulled tightly back from her face and tucked precariously under a broadbrimmed hat Her eyes were brown sparkles and her cheeks were deeply dimpled.
“Am I less temptation now, sir?”
“What?” Clark’s power of reasoning seemed to have fled with his breath.
“You said three women might be temptation for the Indians. Now we look like three more soldiers.”
Clark shook his head. “Ma’am, you don’t look like a soldier.” He was trying hard to keep his eyes on her face and off the shapely body that filled out the uniform blouse and pants in a most unusual way.
“Well, not up close.”
She sounded exasperated, and he tried to pull himself together. An official question seemed to be the best way. “How soon will you be ready to travel?”
She brought her heels together. “Ready now! Sir!” This was followed by a smart salute. His hand moved to answer it before he caught himself. He had the distinct impression he was being mocked.
“We leave in one hour. Soldier.”
She answered his sarcasm with a dimpled grin, turned on her heel and marched away. She had disappeared from view before he realized he was grinning.

Rebecca stuffed her hair under her hat for at least the fourth time that morning. She had expected to have a little trouble with the wind, but Aunt Belle had refused to let her roll up the canvas sides of the ambulance more than a couple of inches for fear someone would see them in their scandalous outfits. As a result, there was barely a breath of air.
And it wasn’t the shaking wagon that caused the problem either; it was her hair. It was too thick and too long and impossible to keep in place. She should have chosen a hat three sizes bigger. The picture she would present with a huge hat perched atop her head made her chuckle.
“What you can find to laugh about is beyond me,” muttered Aunt Belle.
A bench had been fashioned along one side of the wagon and padded with bedding for the ladies’ comfort. Aunt Belle wasn’t impressed. She had been sullen all morning.
“Things aren’t as bad as all that.” Rebecca patted her aunt’s blue-clad knee hoping to improve her temper. “We have more space than we would in a stagecoach, and we have it all to ourselves. Besides, at a stage stop we would only get a moment’s rest while they changed the teams. This way we’ll have more opportunity to walk about as the teams are rested.”
“It’ll take us longer to get there, then,” was Belle’s reply.
Rebecca resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Not as long as it would take if we waited out this war,” she said, forgetting for a moment that she was trying to soothe her aunt.
Aunt Belle shuddered.
“Come over here, Mother, and watch the prairie go by,” Alicia suggested. She had abandoned the seat an hour ago and had curled up on a bedroll where she could peek through the small opening between the wooden box and canvas side.
“There’s nothing out there to see,” Aunt Belle declared.
“There are the soldiers,” Rebecca said, winking at Alicia.
Aunt Belle nearly came out of her seat. “Alicia! Come away from there before they see you!”
“They already know we’re here,” Rebecca reasoned. “Besides, it’s just a crack. What will they see?”
“It’s unseemly!”
Alicia rose obediently. She was short enough to stand upright under the square frame that held the canvas. Rebecca mouthed a “sorry” as her cousin passed to take a seat on the other side of Belle.
Alicia gave her a forgiving smile. “Will we be stopping for lunch, do you think?”
“Of course,” Rebecca assured her. “I’ll ask the driver if he knows anything.” Before her aunt could stop her, she flung herself toward the front of the wagon and scrambled under the canvas and over the back of the seat.
“Mind if I join you for a few minutes?” she asked the driver after he had hastily made room for her. “It’s much cooler out here than inside.”
“I can stop and help you roll up the sides if you’d like,” he offered.
“That’s kind of you,” she said, trying to locate the lieutenant in the column ahead. “Aunt Belle prefers her privacy. Your name is Brooks, isn’t it?” He had been introduced that morning when he was assigned to drive their wagon, but she had barely noticed the young enlisted man.
“Yes, ma’am. Victor Brooks.”
“Have you heard when we’ll be stopping to rest?” The new recruits were riding four abreast directly in front of their wagon. She stood up for a moment to get a better view beyond, assuming the lieutenant was leading the column.
“Ain’t been in the army long enough to even make a guess. All I know is to mind my sergeant, steer clear of officers, and eat whenever they give me a chance.”
Rebecca laughed. “I hope they give us that chance soon.”
“Me and my messmates are supposed to cook for you ladies as well as ourselves. I reckon that means we roast your rabbit before we boil our salt pork.”
Rebecca turned and studied the soldier for the first time. Judging by his smooth skin, he was in his early twenties, but there was a hardness about his eyes that made him look older. She couldn’t tell if he was resentful of the assignment or had intended his comment as a joke.
“Oh dear,” she said with a sigh. “I seem to have forgotten to set out my rabbit traps so tonight you’ll probably be cooking double rations of pork.”
Brooks gave a mirthless laugh. “Not likely, ma’am. Dixie Boy will be looking out for himself, and for you too, I reckon. I imagine there’s a hunting party out what won’t get a bite of what they kill.”
Dixie Boy? She had a feeling this soldier was headed for trouble. Arguing with him wouldn’t help, though, especially if he turned out to be right. He had evidently heard stories, she had too, of officers who dined in elegance while the troops ate the standard rations. Or substandard as they called them.
“Did you see a hunting party go?”
“Three men were sent ahead a while ago.”
Rebecca scowled. Why would she be so disappointed if Brooks was right? “Maybe they’re scouting out a river crossing,” she suggested.
“I wouldn’t know, ma’am.”
“Tell you what, soldier,” Rebecca said, standing again as the column ahead mounted a rise. “If you turn out to be right, I’ll see you get a share.”
“Why, that’s kind of you, ma’am,” Brooks said.
Rebecca smiled. She had located him finally, riding a bay horse in the lead of the column. She sat down when he was once again hidden by the other soldiers. “But that won’t be till evening anyway. The noon meal is usually too hurried to cook anything. And General Hale’s wife packed us a lunch.”
“I should have guessed.”
She leaned closer and spoke softly. “If it won’t make your messmates jealous, I’ll see if I can’t save something back.”
“What my messmates don’t know, can’t upset’em.”
They caught up with the three outriders at a creek and rested just beyond it. Stock was fed and watered, fires were quickly built and coffee boiled. Rebecca wanted to spread a blanket on the ground and eat Mrs. Hale’s lunch picnic style, but Aunt Belle refused to leave the wagon except for a brief excursion into the trees. Even with Rebecca and Alicia standing guard, she found the experience humiliating.
Brooks offered them coffee, but otherwise they were left alone to eat their lunch in the same confining space they had shared all morning. Rebecca listened to the voices of the men outside and felt like a prisoner. She hoped the lieutenant would come to check on their well-being and comfort but knew Aunt Belle would probably voice her complaints. When he hadn’t come by the time they started down the trail, she told herself it was just as well.
She slipped out to the seat again shortly after they started, bringing the driver two pieces of cold chicken. He seemed surprised, though not particularly pleased to receive the offering, as if he would rather have had his worst notions confirmed than have the chicken to eat. She decided she didn’t like Victor Brooks.
Still, she determined to be nice to him. She and her companions were dependent on him in many respects, and he would no doubt take more care for their comfort if she was kind to him.
Brooks, busily eating the chicken, didn’t seem inclined to talk so Rebecca watched the column ahead, especially the officer when she could get a glimpse of him, and wished she was riding alongside him. As she imagined smiling up at him, the wind took a swipe at her hat. She grabbed for it too late.
“Stop!”
Brooks stared at her. Only after seeing the heat in his eyes did she realize that her hair had come completely unpinned and tumbled around her shoulders.
She gathered it into her fist, and Brooks came to his senses, hauling on the reins. He jumped from the wagon and Rebecca leaned around the side to see if the next team had already trampled her hat. The freight wagons were still a few yards behind, and Brooks sprinted to her hat, bringing it back to her at a run. He was in the seat and calling to the team before the next wagon was forced out of line.
“Thanks,” Rebecca said, brushing at the dust on the hat.
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
Rebecca frowned. She would have to go back inside the wagon and try again to pin up her hair. She probably ought to stay there. Aunt Belle didn’t approve of her spending time with the driver. Of course, Aunt Belle didn’t approve of anything.
Still, until she found a way to keep her hat in place, she would have to stay inside. Stopping the ambulance to retrieve it would be considered a nuisance by a certain officer in charge.

That evening, Clark set up the field desk and took out his journal. He had written half a page when a uniformed figure approached his desk. His first reaction was to finish the sentence. Then he remembered his experience of the morning. He looked up and came instantly to his feet, barely avoiding knocking over his chair again.
“Ma’am. This will take some getting used to.” Her hat was in her hand and her dark hair was loose around her shoulders. He was sure he had never seen a woman’s hair like that outside the bedroom. He shook off the image.
“Not for me.” She gave him a conspiratorial grin that nearly disarmed him. “All this time I thought women were clumsy, but we hobble ourselves with our dresses.”
Clark had no response for that. Feeling like a fool as he did every time she was nearby, he escaped behind his military training. “Is there something I can do for you, ma’am?”
“I have a problem,” she said, but she didn’t look particularly concerned.
“What’s his name?”
The girl looked positively hurt. He almost regretted his bluntness, but it had been a reasonable guess.
“Not that kind of problem. Aunt Belle took my scissors.”
Scissors? “Would you like her arrested, ma’am?”
She shot him a grin that told him she liked the idea. “No, I don’t want her arrested. I wanted to know if you have a pair I can borrow.”
“Sorry, ma’am.”
“A knife?” she asked.
He drew a large bowie knife out of a sheath at his waist, certain the size would change her mind. “May I ask what you need it for?”
She looked from the knife to his face and grinned. “I’m having trouble keeping my hat on over all this hair. Would you do the honors?” She spun around, tossing her hair over her shoulders. It cascaded down her back in dark, shimmering waves.
Clark stared. “Ma’am?”
She turned to face him, sighing in exasperation. “I want you to cut my hair.” She paused, but he was speechless. “I can’t pass as a soldier like this, can I?”
“Ma’am,” he pleaded, making a mental note to thank Mrs. Evans for hiding her scissors. “I could never explain this to your father.”
“Lieutenant, we are probably being watched or will be as we travel farther west. You said yourself that women might tempt the hostiles to attack. With this much hair showing, I am plainly a woman.”
“Or an Indian scout,” he interjected hopefully.
She chose to ignore him. “If I don’t keep my hat on I’m going to be sunburned. I could die of sunstroke. Do you want to explain that to my father?” She paused a moment, to give him time to digest her comment, he supposed, then turned her back again. “Slice it off at about my shoulders.”
“Perhaps you could stay in the wagon.” Even as he said it he knew that would be too much to ask of someone like Rebecca.
She spun around. “With Aunt Belle? All day, every day? For a week? I’ll go mad. Wouldn’t you?”
She turned her back on him again. When he made no move toward her, she tossed, “Lieutenant,” over her shoulder. There was just enough threat in her voice to irritate him. He stepped around the desk and took the dark tresses in his left hand. She deserved this, he thought. Let her explain it to her father.
His knife was sharp, and it took only a moment. When the final cut was made she tossed her head, turning the bluntly cut locks into curls. Placing the hat firmly on her head she sent him a grin. “Thanks,” she said as she walked away.
Clark looked after her, down at the knife and handful of dark, soft hair, and back at the retreating figure. He realized with a start that his hands were shaking and his breathing had become labored. He returned the knife to its sheath but stared at the hair for a long moment while the wind tried to pull it from his grasp. He had the fleeting feeling that he had just scalped her.
He drew a white handkerchief from his pocket and, entering his tent, spread it on his bunk. Carefully, not wanting to miss a strand, he placed his treasure on top and folded the handkerchief around it, tying it with a string from his pack. Then he unbuttoned his blouse and, without pausing to analyze his actions, tucked the bundle into the pocket in the lining, next to his heart.

Chapter Three (#ulink_f4676823-03c7-574f-a0f7-1476f37d0051)
Aunt Belle would probably swoon. Then she would try to find a way to punish her. But Aunt Belle’s authority had diminished with every mile they put between themselves and Chicago. Soon Rebecca would be back in her father’s care, and he was easily managed.
Rebecca made her way from Lieutenant Forrester’s tent to the ambulance, putting Aunt Belle out of her mind. The lieutenant’s face was much more fun to think about. He tried so hard not to register any reaction that it took something outlandish, like a request that he cut her hair, to get him to so much as raise an eyebrow. Disconcerting him was worth anything Aunt Belle could think to do to her.
Alicia had set up a camp table and two chairs beside the ambulance and sat hunched over a book. She looked up when Rebecca arrived. “You actually did it,” she whispered.
Rebecca took off her hat and gave her bobbed hair a toss. “Do you think you can get my scissors from your mother and trim it for me? I doubt if it’s very even. Maybe you could cut it in layers, like a man’s, so it’ll lie better.”
Alicia merely stared.
“Relax, Alicia.” Rebecca moved to the other chair and put the hat on the ground beside her. She looked at the table for the first time. It was set with Aunt Belle’s everyday china and flatware—probably this was her idea of practical. There were only two places and an extra plate sat atop Alicia’s.
“Is Aunt Belle feeling all right?” She hoped her determination to cut her hair hadn’t actually made her aunt ill.
“She won’t come out,” Alicia whispered.
Rebecca glanced at the wagon, noticing that the canvas had been unrolled completely. “Even now? There’s nobody around.”
“There’s lots of men around.” Alicia waved her hand to encompass the whole camp with its many little campfires. “Besides, our driver said he would be bringing our dinner soon. Mother doesn’t want anybody to see her in the pants.”
“She might as well change into a dress if she’s never coming out of the wagon. Of course, then she would have no reason to stay in the wagon.”
Alicia started to giggle, then touched her finger to her lips. “She’s sure she will be instantly scalped.”
“That’s ridiculous. She’d be perfectly safe.”
Alicia gaped at her a moment, then hissed, “You said women would attract the Indians. That’s why we’re wearing these awful pants.”
Rebecca shook her head. “Lieutenant Forrester said that. I called his bluff.”
“What!” Alicia clapped her hand over her mouth.
“There may be some truth in it,” Rebecca acknowledged, “especially when we get farther west. Alicia, that wasn’t the real reason he didn’t want us along, but it was the reason he gave. The pants prevent him from claiming we disregarded his concerns.”
Alicia leaned back and stared at Rebecca as if the explanation was too much to fathom. After nearly a full minute she asked, “What do you think was the real reason?”
Rebecca grinned. “He thinks I’ll flirt with all the soldiers.”
Alicia arched a brow. “And won’t you?”
“No!” She tried to look indignant, but in the face of Alicia’s knowing nod it was impossible. She grinned instead. “At least not until I get tired of Lieutenant Forrester.”

Clark signaled a halt when he saw the rider. Sergeant Whiting relayed the order then squinted at the approaching figure. “He’s riding a mule.”
Clark lifted the binoculars that hung from his saddle and took a look. “Some old-timer.” He passed the glasses to Whiting.
“I think it’s Decker,” Whiting said. “He’s done some scouting for the army.”
“Hold the column. I’ll see what he wants.” He spurred his horse forward.
“First Lieutenant Clark Forrester, Seventh Cavalry,” he said when they had drawn rein near each other.
“How do, Lieutenant?” The man extended his hand. “Name’s Carl Decker. Saw your dust from over yonder. Soon as I knew you wasn’t a band a renegades, I decided I’d come on in, see if I could share a fire and have some company for the night Startin’ to get a little spooked out here alone.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Decker.” Clark turned his mount, and they started back toward the waiting column.
“Don’t nobody I know call me Mr. Decker. Carl, maybe, or more likely Short Deck. On account a me being not so tall, I reckon.”
Clark shook his head. “They wouldn’t call you Short Deck because you cheat at cards, would they?”
Decker spat a stream of tobacco juice on the far side of his mule. “Maybe,” he said with a chuckle.
Clark waved the troops forward, and he and Decker fell in alongside the sergeant.
“Short Deck,” Whiting said. “I thought that was you. Where you headed?”
“Hell, I don’t know, Sam,” the old man answered. “I’m thinkin’ about leavin’ the state. Or I may just find myself a place to hole up over here in Salina or yonder in Abilene.”
“I can imagine the accommodations you’re looking for,” Whiting said.
Decker laughed. “How far am I gonna be backtrackin’ here, Lieutenant?”
“I planned to camp about a mile farther west.”
“Don’t mind trading a couple miles for some company. How many men ya got here?”
It was Whiting that answered. “Forty. Most of them green as grass.”
“They’ll do,” Clark said, knowing at least a few of the men in question had heard their sergeant
“Replacements for Hard Ass?”
“Most likely.” Clark bit back a grin at one of several nicknames for Custer. The man had reached the rank of Brevet General during the war. He enjoyed the use of the title, though the reorganized army considered him a Lieutenant Colonel.
Decker added, “The boy general has more than his share of desertions, don’t he?” He leaned over and spat tobacco juice on the ground. “Bull’s-eye.”
Clark didn’t turn to see what the man had been aiming at. As he listened to his sergeant and their guest talk he hoped Decker didn’t change his mind about heading east; if the man stayed with the column long enough Clark might have his own problem with deserters.
After supper, several of the troopers settled in near Clark’s camp, curious about the stranger. Miss Huntington was one of them. He sensed her presence before he caught a glimpse of her. He ignored her, or tried to, not wanting to draw her to Decker’s attention.
“You told us where you were going, Deck,” Whiting said. “Tell us where you’ve been.”
Decker sat Indian-style, his coffee cup in his hands. “I been down around Fort Lamed with Hancock so I guess you can say I was there when this damn war started.”
Clark couldn’t pass up an opportunity to get more information than was in the official reports, even if it meant some green troopers would hear it as well. “What happened?”
“Well, there’d been some trouble, mostly with the Dog Soldiers, so Hancock comes down there. Sends for the chiefs. This was back in April, and we get a snowstorm. Chiefs have a time gettin’ in. Hancock don’t want to set back the deadline. He’s gonna teach them a lesson if they’re late.
“Well, they show up the evening of the deadline. Ol’ Hancock decides to start the council immediately. What does he care if there’s no sun to bless the proceedin’s? He’s not there to listen, anyhow. He’s there to threaten. He insults those chiefs from here to Sunday. Insists the Cheyenne ain’t actin’ in good faith since Roman Nose ain’t along.” Decker shook his head at the memory.
“Roman Nose is Northern Cheyenne,” Whiting put in.
Decker nodded. “Been livin’ down here, though. Kinda a rabble-rouser. At best he’d be called a war chief. They send their peace chiefs to councils. Anyhow, the Indians went away mad.
“Day or so later Hancock takes his forces and heads for Red Arm Creek where the Cheyenne are camped. I’m along as scout, you understand. The Cheyenne fire the prairie, forcing us to camp away from the village. There’s a standoff for a couple a days.-When we surround the village we find it deserted.”
“Of course it was.” The feminine voice brought Clark’s head up, and Decker’s as well. “Hadn’t Hancock ever heard of Sand Creek?”
She had crept closer during the narrative and sat only a few feet from him. As surprised as he was to find she had gotten so close without his notice, he was more surprised by the question. He hadn’t expected the colonel’s daughter to know anything about the ‘64 massacre, let alone connect the Colorado Volunteers’ burning of that peaceful Cheyenne village with the Cheyenne’s behavior now. Most people didn’t seem to believe Indians had memories.
The troopers, however were more interested in the woman than in the question. They were watching her more closely than they watched their guest.
Decker was clearly startled. Clark could guess what he was thinking. An effeminate boy? A woman in disguise that only he had seen through? Clark decided to let him wonder. Besides, she had asked a good question.
Decker recovered quickly, though he cast Whiting a questioning glance. “As a matter of fact, that’s just what Roman Nose asked him. He came to parley during the standoff.”
“What happened to the deserted village?” Clark asked, though he could guess.
With a flick of his wrist, Decker tossed his cold coffee on the ground, in lieu of tobacco juice, Clark supposed. “Hancock sends Custer after ‘em, waits four days, and burns the village. Two hundred fifty lodges. Now they got no choice but to raid. This here’s Hancock’s war plain and simple.”
The camp was quiet Darkness had closed in around them during the past few minutes. Clark glanced around the circle of young faces, knowing each was considering what they were about to ride into.
“Sergeant Whiting,” he said quietly. “Arrange guards for the night.”
“Yes, sir.” Whiting issued orders, and the troopers moved toward their own tents.
Except for the curvaceous “soldier” beside him. She was staring into the fire. Decker was staring at her.
“Thanks for the information, Mr. Decker,” Clark said, drawing his attention.
“Sure thing. Don’t reckon you need guards, though. Most all the raiding’s a mite farther west.”
“The men will sleep better knowing there are guards on duty,” Clark said.
Decker nodded his approval. “I reckon you’re right. ‘Cept for the ones actually doin’ the guardin’.” He went back to watching the “soldier.”
Clark didn’t like the speculative gleam in the old scout’s eyes. He was probably thinking she was his mistress, smuggled into camp in uniform.
“Miss Huntington,” he said. She turned toward him, sorrow evident in her dark eyes. “Have you met Carl Decker? Mr. Decker, this is Colonel Huntington’s daughter.”
“Short Deck,” Decker croaked, then cleared his throat “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but is there a reason you’re in that getup?”
She gave him her most brilliant smile. Clark could feel the force of it even in profile. “All the ladies are wearing these back east,” she said, plucking at the shoulders of the wool blouse. “Though I personally think it needs a little decoration. A couple of bows or something. What do you think?”
Decker grinned, showing tobacco-stained teeth. “Maybe it needs a medal or two.”
Her eyes brightened. “Medals! I hadn’t thought of that. Do you know where I could get some?”
“If I had any, I’d hand them over right now. Maybe the lieutenant has earned hisself a few.”
She turned her smile on Clark. Her eyes were fairly dancing. “What do you think, Lieutenant?”
She was quite a picture, her dark hair curling around her collar and ears, her dimples bracketing smiling pink lips. Every curve of her body outlined by the uniform. “I think you should go back to your wagon.”
Her eyes went from teasing to knowing. Damn, she could guess why he wanted her to leave. He didn’t like the way Decker watched her. Or the fact that she was practically flirting with the man. She thought he was jealous. He wasn’t, of course. She was under his protection, and her flirting made that a more difficult job. He kept his face impassive as she grinned at him.
“Well,” she said with a sigh. “I suppose you’re right. It was nice meeting you, Short Deck. I’ll leave it to Lieutenant Forrester to explain my presence as best he can. Good night”
Out of habit, Clark stood as she stood. Resuming his seat, he tore his eyes away from the retreating figure only to discover that Decker hadn’t “She’s traveling with the supply train because the public transportation has temporarily shut down.”
Decker didn’t turn toward him. “The getup your idea?”
Clark couldn’t resist a laugh. “No, that was hers. She believes it won’t attract the Indians’ attention.”
“Sure as hell attracts everybody else’s.”
“I imagine she’s aware of that, as well.”
Decker turned and laughed. “She gettin’ to ya, Lieutenant?”
Clark had his expression back under control. “She’s my commanding officer’s daughter.”
Decker was still grinning. “You’re a better man than I am if you let that stop you.”
Clark didn’t respond.
“Ah, well,” Decker said, coming to his feet with more agility than Clark expected, “I better find my roll and turn in. See ya in the morning, Lieutenant.”
“Good night.”
Clark gazed into the darkness beyond the fire. He tried to consider what the scout had said, but found himself thinking about Miss Huntington instead. “Medals,” he muttered. If he could deliver her to her father without touching her, he would deserve one.
It was best not to even think about her. He would think about Annie; that should bring him back to his senses. Oddly enough, he had a little trouble remembering her face. He remembered the pain when she turned down his proposal, however.
When he got word that his uncle had died, he had requested leave to go home and asked Annie to join him. He had pictured a small wedding with some of his family but had offered to marry her in Dodge before they left. He had known he would be reporting to the new fort upon his return.
She had turned him down. Life as a soldier’s wife wasn’t for her. She didn’t want to move from fort to fort and worry about her husband every time he rode away. And he couldn’t blame her.
He didn’t feel heartbroken, exactly. But she had been a sweet, quiet, gentle woman who would have made a good helpmate. If she couldn’t tolerate his life, what woman could?
He shook off the loneliness. He would miss Annie, of course. And that was why he found his teasing little charge at all attractive. And no doubt that explained why he kept picturing one of his medals dangling from the breast of her uniform blouse.

“He sent out a hunting party,” Brooks announced as soon as Rebecca crawled into the seat beside him.
“You’re sure?” Rebecca caught sight of the bay as the column started up an incline. He was closer than he had been the day before. Half the troops had been pulled out of formation and positioned along either side of the caravan.
“Sergeant was asking for the best marksmen,” Brooks said. “Sent out five. Don’t get me wrong, ma’am. I don’t begrudge you a good meal. Nor them other ladies neither.”
“But?” she prompted.
“But nothing. I’m just talking. What did you think of the old man’s story last night? You reckon we’re in for trouble?”
Rebecca shrugged. “I don’t think we’re especially vulnerable. Besides, most of the trouble’s west of here.”
“Ain’t that the way we’re going?”
Rebecca had to grin at him. “As a matter of fact, it is. But didn’t you join the army to fight Indians?”
“No, ma’am. I joined to eat. And I think I made a mistake.”
Rebecca knew the soldier was at least half serious, but she couldn’t help laughing. “The army doesn’t want you getting too fat for your uniform.”
“The army don’t have to worry.”
He smiled but it wasn’t very pleasant. Rebecca turned away, preferring to watch the lieutenant’s back. “Oh, look!” she cried. “Another visitor.”
As before, Forrester stopped the column and rode forward to meet the stranger. Rebecca wished she was with him to know who it was and what news he might have brought. In a moment the two came riding back, but Forrester didn’t signal the column to move. Instead they skirted the troops and cantered toward them.
Rebecca spared the stranger barely a glance. Forrester was such a pleasure to watch. He rode as if he had been born to it, his back straight, his head high. He drew up beside the ambulance with the slightest touch on the reins. She smiled, knowing he had to have seen her watching him.
He showed no sign, however. “Miss Huntington,” he said. “Mr. Kolchek has an invitation for you.”
Rebecca turned to the stranger. Evidently Forrester hadn’t warned him about her attire. It took him a moment to find his voice.
“Miss Huntington,” he said, snatching off his hat. “I understand you’re one of three women traveling with the soldiers.”
“That’s right,” she said, smiling.
“I own a ranch west a ways. It doubles as a stage station. We’d be pleased to have you ladies as our guests at noon. And the lieutenant, if you can persuade him.”
“That’s most kind of you,” Rebecca said, beaming. “My aunt especially will be grateful for the change of scene, not to mention diet”
“And clothes,” Forrester added.
Rebecca sent him a wicked grin.
Kolchek looked from Rebecca to the lieutenant and back. “Yes, well. I best be headed home to see that everything is ready.”
He turned his horse and rode away. Forrester turned to follow, but Rebecca stopped him. “Lieutenant What did he mean if I can persuade you?”
Forrester hesitated. “We’ll arrive in a little over an hour. You ladies might want to change as we travel. I’ll try to give you plenty of time to enjoy Mr. Kolchek’s hospitality, but you can’t have the whole of the afternoon.”
He started away again.
“Wait!” He was polite enough to turn back, and his irritation was barely visible. “Aren’t you eating with us?”
“That depends.” This time he turned away with enough resolve she didn’t try to call him back.
She sank down into the seat and watched him go. In a moment they were moving again.
“He’ll eat with you,” Brooks said, startling her. She had nearly forgotten him.
“Depends on what?” she wondered aloud. Didn’t he want to eat with her?
Brooks shrugged. “Care to make a friendly bet?” he asked in a low voice.
She laughed. “Want me to bring you a steak if you’re right?”
“I got more on my mind than food. I was thinking more like a kiss.”
Rebecca’s stomach turned queasy. She tried to laugh it off. “What do I get if I win?”
He was quiet for a moment than offered softly, “You could bet the same thing.”
“No deal,” she said, trying not to sound as revolted as she felt. “Gambling’s frowned on in the army.”
“Is kissing, too?” he whispered. “We could skip the bet and go straight to the payoff.”
“I need to go change.” She rose to climb over the seat, taking more care than usual not to touch him.
“I’ll be thinking of you,” he whispered.
Rebecca scrambled under the canvas and tied the front flap in place. She turned to find Belle and Alicia staring at her. Had they been listening to her conversation with Brooks? They could hardly blame her for what he said.
“Did you hear we’ve been invited to dine at a stage station?” she asked, making her way to the back of the rocking wagon. It seemed unbearably close. She pulled aside the canvas to let in a hint of a breeze, realizing how peculiar that might seem after tying the front flap.
“It’s not proper,” Aunt Belle said.
“Proper? Aunt Belle, I’m sure they invite most travelers to eat with them.”
“I mean the way you talk to that lieutenant. You are far too familiar. He’s bound to remember how you made eyes at him on the train.”
Rebecca resisted a sigh of relief. If she had heard Brooks she wouldn’t be so concerned about her behavior toward Forrester. From experience she knew the best tactic with Aunt Belle. “I’m sorry,” she said, letting her head hang slightly. “I forgot myself. I’ll try to act with more decorum in the future.”
“Good,” stated Belle, evidently willing to accept her vow at face value. “Now, I’m ready to get out of these awful clothes. We’ve only an hour to make ourselves presentable.”

Approximately an hour later the ambulance rolled to a stop in front of Kolchek’s station. Rebecca got her first glimpse of the long low building when Brooks came behind to help them out of the wagon. Aunt Belle had forbidden either her or Alicia to part the canvas for so much as a peek for fear their dresses would get dusty. “It’s hard enough dressing in such a confining space without dust billowing in as well,” she had said.
The house was built of rough-hewn wood and completely devoid of paint. The roof didn’t even seem to be level. Alicia stepped up beside Rebecca as she studied the building. “That’s ghastly,” she whispered.
“Rustic,” Rebecca corrected.
Aunt Belle made an audible gasp as she climbed from the wagon. “My,” she said, joining the girls. The wagon clattered out of the yard, and Belle looked after it with something akin to panic.
A large woman emerged from one of the three doors that ran along the front of the house. Shading her eyes with one hand she waved with the other. “Come on in out of the sun and have a cool drink. Dinner’ll be ready in no time.”
“It’s bound to be cooler inside,” Belle said, stepping forward. Rebecca and Alicia followed her onto the porch.
After they had all introduced themselves, Mrs. Kolchek expressed a need to get back to the kitchen. “You folks just make yourselves at home.”
“I’d like to walk around a little,” Rebecca said. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”
Alicia touched her mother’s arm. “I’ll go with Rebecca and see that she doesn’t take too long.”
“Good idea.” Belle followed the woman into the station.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Alicia said. “I wanted to apologize for letting Mother overhear your conversation with your lieutenant. I parted the canvas to see why we had stopped. It muffles sound quite effectively the rest of the time.”

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