The Crossed Sabres (19 page)

They stood in full view of the men passing by, and Winslow made his choice. “I’m here to stay, Lieutenant Grayson. You will do your best to ruin me, but I warn you, do a good job
of it.” He could not help one barbed statement about the past. “I’ll be a little harder to get rid of than a sick woman.”

Grayson’s face tensed, but he made no reply. Turning his back, he stalked away, and Winslow found that his hands were trembling from the effort to control himself. He forced himself to walk slowly along the path, and by the time he got to Eileen’s house, where he had left Laurie, he had himself under control. Not inwardly, for he knew that the cold rage that he kept pressed down was not going away; however, when he knocked on the door and Laurie answered it, she would not see any signs of the terrible strain.

“Daddy!” she squealed and threw herself into his arms. Her own arms tightened around his neck as she clung to him, and when he finally put her down, she took his hand and pulled him inside. “Miss Eileen! He’s here!”

“Hello, Tom,” Eileen said, entering the room. “You must have an instinct. You always come when the food is ready.” She looked cool and clean and fresh to Winslow after the heat of the desert.

Holding to Laurie’s hand, Winslow moved into the room, saying, “The mark of an old soldier—always knows where the chow line is.”

“I’ll get the food on the table while you wash up,” Eileen said. “Go with him, Laurie, and make sure he does a good job—check behind his ears, too!”

Laughter followed the two as Laurie excitedly pulled her dad down the hall to the sink. Dousing his hands and face in the water, he sluiced away the accumulation of dust and dirt of the day. As he washed, Laurie talked as fast as she could, which gave Winslow more time to control his feelings after his encounter with Grayson. When they were seated at the table, Tom cast his eyes over the meal and commented, “Better than the cold sandwich I’d planned on, Eileen. Laurie, don’t get your hand too close to me—I’m so hungry I might bite it by mistake.”

They began to eat, and Eileen asked, “Did you have a good
scout, Tom?” She and Laurie listened as he related some of the details, but it was Laurie who asked, “Daddy, why is your face all bruised? Did you get thrown off your horse?”

Feeling Eileen’s eyes on him, Winslow touched the sore spot, laughed and said, “No, it was another critter who did this, Laurie.” She begged him to tell her everything, but he teased her out of it, insisting that a ring-tail gouger had done it.

After the meal, Laurie showed him what she had done at school.

“Did you like it, Laurie, the school?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s not bad,” she shrugged. “The teacher is Mr. Dutton. He’s old and a grouch. He must be at least thirty!”

“Mighty old,” Winslow agreed, catching a smile from Eileen, who was washing dishes across the room. After she finished she came over and sat across from the two and began knitting on a pair of wool socks.

As she watched Winslow and Laurie, Eileen was struck with the thought,
We’re like a family!
Startled at the idea, she dropped her head to hide her confusion. She remembered hearing of a woman who had lost her fifteen-year-old son and had kept his room for years exactly as it was the day he died. Eileen had found that morbid, but she realized now that she had done that very thing too!
I’ve made this place a memorial to my dead husband!
To cover her agitation, she went to the counter and made some juice for her guests.

“Warm, but wet,” she smiled, handing them the glasses. She got the third one for herself, then sat down and asked, “Will you be going out soon, Tom?”

“Not for a few days. I’m going to do a lot of talking to the tame Indians around the fort and in Bismarck.”

“Will they be able to tell you much about the hostile tribes?”

Winslow leaned back, and Laurie, swift to note that it was now time for the grown-ups to talk, moved to the table and began writing on her tablet. “Not a great deal, as a rule. But
if I can get close to them, their attitude and words will be another way of reading the situation.”

As he spoke there was something in his face that told her he was thinking of other things. She looked across the room at Laurie, busily working on her lesson. Not wanting to disturb her, she said to Tom, “Let’s go out on the porch. It’s a little warm in here.”

When they were seated on the porch, she asked, “Do you think there’ll be trouble?”

“Yes. Sooner or later it will come.” He turned to face her and asked, “Eileen, what will you do?”

She knew he was asking what was on his mind—and on the minds of many people. “I don’t know, Tom. I don’t have any family to speak of. If Frank had lived, we’d have gone East, I think.”

“Not much in the East for a career soldier, anyway. The army’s small now, after the war. The quickest way to get promoted is to get a good combat record—and the only combat now is the Indian war.”

“Frank wasn’t really a fighting man,” Eileen said. “He was more of an executive. I never would have married him if we hadn’t agreed on this—going to the East. He had a good friend in Sherman’s command, a colonel who was working on getting Frank a place in the War Department. But my husband was killed before he had a chance for that position.”

“I’m sorry,” Winslow said quietly. He wanted to ask her why she stayed at the fort, living with memories, but was not a man to pry. He let the silence run on, then said, “I don’t know what to do about thanking you, Eileen, except to keep on saying it. But I’d like to pay you to keep Laurie.”

“Oh no!” she exclaimed. “Please don’t do that.” She rose and went to stand at the edge of the porch. He joined her, and she turned to face him. “If I took a salary, it would change what Laurie feels for me. Now we’re friends, but then I’d be a paid keeper of some sort. I’m not rich, but Frank had some
money when we married, and I get a check every month—enough to get by on. Please don’t ask me to do that.”

Pleased by her words, he saw the wisdom of them. “Seems as if you do all the giving and I do all the taking, Eileen. A little hard on my pride, I guess.”

“No, Tom, that’s wrong,” she murmured. “It’s been good, taking care of Laurie. I—get so lonesome—!”

Then the tears she’d kept back rose to her eyes, and she trembled, fighting to gain control. As Tom watched, the tears spilled over and rolled down her cheeks. She was not a crying woman, Winslow knew, and without thinking, he reached out and pulled her into his arms. It was a gesture totally unplanned, something he had pushed out of his life. Nor was she a woman to respond to them, but her defenses were down, and she leaned against his chest, and despite herself, began to sob. He held her, conscious that this was something she’d not been able to do; and even as he held her, he was aware of her soft figure pressed against him—a desirable woman, one who was no longer loved.

Finally she pulled back, brushed her hands against her face, and said wryly, “Just what you needed, Tom. A weeping woman!”

He didn’t even answer, but stood there, his eyes on her. “We all do our crying, Eileen. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Even you, Tom?”

“Yes, even me.”

They stood there quietly, thinking their own thoughts. Finally Tom said, “It’s late. I’d better get Laurie home.”

Before they left, Laurie hugged Eileen and asked, “Will you teach me how to make the dress, like we talked about?”

“Yes. The next time your father lets you come. Good-night, both of you.” Gone was the grief she had let him see. Instead, her tone carried a warmth that had not been there earlier.

On the way to their cabin, Laurie asked, “Daddy, do you like Miss Eileen?”

There was a cautious quality in her voice, and Winslow replied, “Sure do. Why do you ask, Laurie?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Daddy,” she said with a sigh.

Later when he came to tuck her in, he looked into those enormous eyes and was reminded again how much she resembled Marlene. And as always, this brought pain to his heart. He drew the covers around her and under her chin, then kissed her good-night.

“Daddy,” she said again, “you know . . .what I said about Eileen . . .it’s like having a mother. It really is!”

Her words rang in his ears as he left the room.
She’s missed having a mother,
he thought. Winslow had long suspected this. Now he knew for a certainty: His daughter had needs he could never meet alone.

CHAPTER TWELVE

At the Custers’

The lights from the large house in the center of the line were bright yellow, spilling over into the darkness when Faith pulled up at the guard post of Fort Lincoln.

“Yes, ma’am?” the smartly dressed trooper inquired.

“I’m to be at General Custer’s house, Corporal,” she said. “For the reception.”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s the house over there, the one all lit up.”

“Thank you.” Faith gave the horses a slap with the reins, and was proud of the way she’d handled the team all the way from the mission. There had been an afternoon meeting of the mission board at church, and Reverend Crenshaw had drawn her aside to say, “There’s a small social affair at the home of General Custer tonight. A reception for new officers, I believe. Mrs. Custer attends our church at times, and I’ve told her about your work. She sent a special invitation for you to come.”

The invitation pleased Faith, and she eagerly accepted. She had one problem—no proper dress. But Nick Owens’ wife, Elaine, was about the same size as Faith; and when Elaine was told of the situation, she decided to offer one of her own gowns and immediately fitted Faith into a beautiful gray and red.

When Faith drove up to the house, a private stepped forward and helped her down. Taking the lines he said, “I’ll take care of the wagon, ma’am.”

Feeling a little out of place, Faith ascended the stairs; but
as soon as she entered the house, she was met by Mrs. Custer, who extended her hands cheerfully. “And this must be our missionary friend!” Libby Custer was a tiny woman with a pretty, animated face. She was the most social being around, filling her home and her life with a constant stream of guests. Now she put her arm around Faith informally and walked with her into a large high-ceilinged room. Her voice carried above the chatter, drawing everyone’s attention as she introduced Faith. “This is Miss Faith Jamison, everybody! I haven’t had a chance to warn her of our romantic young bachelors, but she’ll find you all out soon enough!”

General Custer was the first to greet her. “Delighted to have you, Miss Jamison,” he said. “I understand you’re a missionary?”

“Yes, General.”

“Well, that’s just what we need in the Seventh.” He glanced around with mischief in his blue eyes, a smile lurking behind the drooping mustache. “I hope you can enlighten some of these young lieutenants. They’re a pagan crew!”

Captain Weir of D Company took the cue and hurried over. “I think I’m the logical man for you, Miss Jamison,” he said. He assumed a pious look as he added, “My father was a deacon in the Baptist church.”

A hoot of laughter went up, for everyone knew Weir was a woman chaser. “Miss Jamison, trust none of them,” Custer said with a grin. “Come along, Weir. Let’s join that group of senior officers.”

“Now, Miss Jamison,” Mrs. Custer said as her husband walked away, “I want you to meet some of our other guests.” As the guests arrived, among them the officers’ wives, Faith noticed that most of the them showed signs of the harsh weather they had been subject to in the West, but she was warmed by their friendliness and undaunted by the fact that in years to come she herself would show the same wear and tear. But she was here on God’s business, and nothing would
keep her from carrying that out, a commitment that would be tested in many ways.

When Faith had entered the room earlier, Lieutenant Grayson straightened at once, giving her his full attention. At the time, he was speaking to Eileen Jennings. Grayson’s avid interest in Faith was evident. As Eileen watched him, she could clearly see his hunting instinct for women, which he usually concealed. He had pursued her since her husband died, not in an obvious way, but nevertheless in a fashion no sensitive woman could miss.

“She’s quite pretty, isn’t she, Lieutenant? Shall I introduce you?”

“You know her, Eileen?”

“We’ve met. Come along and perhaps you can get ahead of some of the others.”

He gave her a quick glance, wondering if she had classified him as a womanizer. It was no secret that he liked women and cared what they thought—at least until they surrendered to his advances. He’d been chagrined over his failure with Eileen Jennings, but now put her out of his thoughts as they approached Faith.

“This is Lieutenant Grayson, Miss Jamison,” Eileen said. “After the general’s warning, I will say no more.”

After the introduction, Eileen left and the lieutenant wasted no time in maneuvering her toward the refreshment table where he could have her to himself. She really didn’t mind because she had been curious about him ever since Laurie had mentioned her father’s reaction to the man and then Tom’s own response to Faith’s questions concerning the situation. Now she had an opportunity to form her own judgment in the matter.

Grayson said, “Blast the general for giving us a bad reputation. I hope you’ll pay no attention to it.”

“I like to make up my own mind, Lieutenant.” The dress Faith wore was a beautiful gray silk, with rich crimson trim along the bodice and sleeves. There was a fullness to her that
was pleasing to the eye, and her auburn hair lay darkly back on her head, exposing the small and dainty ears with pearl pendants—also belonging to Elaine Owens. There was a reserve in her eyes and a strength in her features that pleased Grayson.

He drew her out easily, seeking a weakness in her—his usual tactic with the women he met. It was his theory that there were no “good” women, only careful ones who kept their vulnerability well armored. His tactics on women were exactly the same as he used on a military adversary—find a weakness and throw all your strength against it.

After fifteen minutes of probing without discovering any weakness, he excused himself and moved over to listen to the talk swirling around General Custer, but his mind kept reverting back to Faith. The fact that she was a missionary meant nothing to Grayson, for he had seen more than one woman violate her religious code for a man.