Colt (18 page)
Authors: Georgina Gentry
“Drink of water,” he mumbled. “I'm thirsty.”
“All right, I'll get you a drink. Go back to bed.” She stepped away from Colt, realized she was shaking. She had come so close to coupling with this soldier, wanting him, wanting him to want her. “You've got to go,” she whispered to Colt.
“Can I come back later?”
“No.” She shook her head and backed away from him, scared at how close she'd come to letting this man make love to her. That would only cause more problems for everyone. “Just leave, please.”
He nodded and slipped out the front door. She closed and locked it behind him, listened to his big boots leave her porch. How could she believe or trust him when half the men on the post were trying to get between her thighs? Olivia could have Hannah and her child thrown off the post if she slept with Olivia's fiancé, and the beauty was vengeful enough to do so. Hannah realized she must keep away from Colt, make plans to leave the fort as soon as possible. She drew a troubled sigh and went to get her son a dipperful of water.
Once back in bed, she lay there sleepless a long time, still tasting Colt's hot mouth and feeling his virile body pressed against hers. The officer had aroused feelings in her that no man ever had before. Yes, she had to get away before she ruined both their lives.
Just after dawn, Hannah awakened and decided the cool of the morning would be a good time to pick vegetables to take over to the sutler's. When she looked in on her little boy, he was still asleep. She dressed in one of Olivia's castoffs, got her basket, and walked out behind the commissary. In less than an hour, the fort would be coming awake, but she was enjoying the peace and tranquility of her garden. She hadn't slept well, thinking about Colt.
Hannah heard a sound as she picked tomatoes and looked up. Captain Van Smyth leaned against a corner of the building, stroking his wispy mustache. “Good morning, Mrs. Brownley.” He touched his hat politely.
“Good morning, Captain.” She didn't like the way he was staring at her.
“You look like you're working hard. Would you like some help?” He walked toward her.
She stood her ground. “No, thank you. I can manage. Isn't it about time for roll call, Captain?”
“Not yet.” He grinned and moved closer. “I saw you come out your back door and thought I could help you pick all that stuff.”
“Thank you, but I can manage.” She kept her voice cold.
“Oh, don't tell me you couldn't use some help?” He paused near her and pulled a tomato. “These really look good. You've got a green thumb.”
She managed a wan smile. “So they tell me.”
He walked up and put the tomato in her basket. “Pishposh, this is too much work for a pretty thing like you.”
“I think you ought to be going,” she said, “before your commanding officer comes looking for you.”
“I've got a minute.” His voice lowered. “And you can be nice and give me a minute or two, can't you?”
“No, I can't.” She glared at him, standing her ground.
He faced her, staring at her. “You can give some filthy Injun buck some time but none for a white man? Come now, you white whore, I only want a quickâ”
“Captain, if you don't leave, I'll scream.”
He advanced on her. “I don't think you will. You're too proud. All I want is for you to lay down here and give me a quick rideâ”
She backed away, and he reached out and grabbed her sleeve. It tore away and she stumbled over a plant and they both went down between the rows of vegetables, with him on top of her. He was right, she was too proud to scream. Instead, she clawed at his face, and he cursed and ripped the front of her bodice. “Good Lord, you got nice tits! Now you just lay still and I'll be throughâ”
Instead, she fought him with her nails and teeth, struggling to get out from under him. She managed to reach her basket and grabbed the small hand shovel and hit him across the face. He cursed and slapped her while she swung at him with the little shovel; then she rolled out from under him and ran toward her cabin, leaving him bloody and cursing behind her. The whole bodice of her dress was torn and her cheek stung where he had slapped her. Hannah locked the door behind her and was pinning her bodice closed when Travis came stumbling out of bed and into the kitchen.
“Mama, what's wrong?”
“Nothing, honey.” She turned her back on her son so he wouldn't see the marks on her face and body. “IâI'll fix you some oatmeal, okay? Now you go put your clothes on.”
The toddler turned and left the kitchen and Hannah took a deep breath of relief and leaned against the cabinet. She'd have to be more careful in the future now that word had gotten out around the fort she was a divorced woman and so, available. She must not let Colt find out what had just happened or there would be more trouble. Hannah was surrounded by men who needed women and they thought with her past, she should welcome any white man into her embrace.
Yes, she was going to have to leave this fort, but it would take time to get a little money. Hannah tried to calm her shaking hands while she made oatmeal and put on a pot of coffee for herself.
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Over at his quarters, Colt had spent a sleepless night. After a while, a scrawny private brought him a breakfast tray, saluted, and was gone. Colt tasted it without much appetite. It wasn't nearly as good as Hannah's cooking. He went to the window and peered out.
The bugle sounded and the flag went up as soldiers stood at attention. A patrol rode out through the gate, headed for who knew where. He ought to be leading that patrol or at least advising them, but here he was confined to quarters.
He flopped down on his bunk and stared at the ceiling. Eventually he dropped off to sleep, and in his dreams, Hannah came into his arms willingly and her lips were as soft and tender as before, only this time, she kissed him back with all the passion that he could only hope for. It was last night again and she stood there in that sheer nightdress, pressed against him. He'd been a fool to go to her cabin. He could only cause trouble for them both.
There was a knock at the door that awakened him. Colt mumbled, “Come in, Private.”
Instead, Olivia poked her pretty head around the door. “I've brought you a lunch tray, you naughty boy.”
He sat up, blinking in surprise. “I thought you were furious with me.”
“I've decided to forgive you,” she announced grandly and came into the room, her fine pink skirts swishing as she put the tray down on his desk. “Daddy said you were just a wild young man feeling your oats.”
Colt sighed. “You haven't told your father we have broken up?”
She shook her head and smiled up at him. “I'm giving you time to reconsider. After all, I have so much more to offer you than any other woman you'll ever meet.”
“I reckon that's true, butâ”
“Don't say another word, dear.” She tiptoed to the door. “I want to let you think. In the meantime, maybe I can get Daddy to lessen your sentence.”
He stood up, not wanting to be beholden to the girl, but knowing his men needed him. It was a form of blackmail, he knew, but he had duties to perform. “I'd be much obliged for that, Olivia. I need to be leadin' my men, not cooped up here like some tame chicken.”
“I'll talk to Daddy.” She winked at him as she went out the door.
What was he to do about this girl? Well, that wasn't today's problem. He was hungry because he hadn't eaten much last night or this morning. He sat down at his desk and picked up a fork. He was sure Olivia hadn't cooked this, but maybe her maid had sent something he could eat.
No such luck. He ate it slowly, but nothing was good. The vegetables were overcooked, the meat was tough, and the biscuits like cannonballs. Even the coffee was tepid and too weak.
He spent the rest of the day pacing and staring out the window, getting restless with no activity. Even the troopers marching on the parade ground looked more interesting than what he was stuck with.
That evening, there was a knock at the door and Colt sighed. Neither Olivia nor the post food was something he was looking forward to. “Come in.”
The door opened and it was Hannah holding a tray. She stood there awkwardly, wearing a faded blue dress. “May I come in?”
“What are you doin' here?” He motioned her in.
“I thought you might be hungry and so I made a chicken pot pie and a wild plum cobbler.”
He could smell the food from here and it smelled delicious. “That's kind of you. Where'd you get the chicken?”
“I traded some laundry for it.”
That meant she had worked hard all morning for his benefit and he was touched. “You didn't have to do that, Hannah. The army feeds me.”
She shrugged, brought the tray in, and set it on his desk. “I owe you something for your help yesterday and I always pay my debts.”
“Oh.” So that's all it was. “Hannah”âhe turned toward herâ“about yesterday and last night. I'm sorry I took advantageâ”
“No need to apologize, I understand.” Her blue eyes were cold. “You thought I owed you that, and I understand menâ”
“No, it was more than that.”
She looked at him as if she wished she could believe him, then made a dismissing gesture. “Let's not talk anymore. Your food will get cold.”
“But I want to explainâ”
“You don't owe me anything. I'll always be grateful to you, Lieutenant, for rescuing me from the Comanche and then again yesterday. I can never really repay you.”
“Damn it, I don't want repayment.” He strode over and caught her arm. For just a moment, they looked into each other's eyes and he wanted to kiss her again, kiss her and hold her close and never let her go. Then he noticed the bruise on her cheek. “What happened to you?”
“Oh?” She reached up to touch the spot, winced, and turned away. “IâI fell, that's all.”
He didn't believe her. “Did someone try toâ?”
“Colt, you're in enough trouble already because of me. In fact, I imagine Olivia saw me come in hereâ”
“Don't change the subject,” he thundered and held onto both her arms. “Who was it?”
She tried not to look at him. “I fell, I tell you.”
“Hannah, you're a poor liar. Now tell me who the bastard was and I'llâ”
“You'll only get you and the captain in trouble and it wasn't anything important.”
“Did heâ?”
“No, I hit him with my little hand shovel.”
Colt cursed. “I'll kill him!”
“No, you won't.” She pulled away from him and went to the door, turned. “Forget it, Colt. You're already in enough trouble. I don't want you dishonorably discharged or shot for fighting with a superior officer.”
He hesitated, wondering how he could make her believe he really cared for her and would do anything for her. In that split second as he hesitated, the opportunity was lost. She fled out the door with him calling after her, “Hannah! Hannah, wait!”
What a mess he had made. His good sense told him to forget about the girl with her sad past and fear of men. He could marry a society beauty and have wealth, advancement, and everything else beautiful Olivia offered.
With a sigh, he sat down at his desk and tasted the chicken pot pie. It was delicious, as he had known it would beâlight, crispy crust and a filling of tender chicken and vegetables. There were hot rolls, too. He finished it off with a cup of strong coffee and the tart wild plum cobbler. Then he leaned back in his chair with a smile. Hannah could cook, there was no doubt about it.
Just then there was a knock at the door. Probably a private with his dinner. Colt stood up. “Come in.”
However, it wasn't the private; it was Olivia with a tray. “Hello, soldier boy.” She smiled coyly. “I brought you some dinner.”
“Oh, thank you,” he answered politely.
Then she spotted the dishes on his desk. “Oh, you've already eaten.”
Now what should he do? “Yes, someone brought me something.”
She put her own tray down on the desk with a bang and surveyed the empty dishes. “That doesn't look like regular army fare.” She looked up at him, suspicion in those pretty dark eyes.
“Uh.” He didn't know what to say. He didn't want to get Hannah in trouble.
He could see Olivia beginning to boil. “It's that tramp, that Comanche captive. She's got a lot of nerve, bringing food to my fiancé. Why, everyone on the post will be talking.”
“Olivia,” he said gently, “why not just drop it? It's only food, after all, and it doesn't mean anything.”
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