The Men of Pride County: The Rebel (16 page)

“He will be. Go home.”

Running an unsteady hand through her
hair, she began to think beyond her concern for Noble. “My father, do you know where he is?”

“He led a patrol out yesterday to search for you and the major.”

A reprieve. Time for her to think of what she’d tell him.

Once home, she sat in his rocker, bundled in the blanket, as minutes ticked toward dawn. Though she was exhausted in body, her mind refused to let her rest as she imagined her father’s fear driving him across the desert while she sat safely at home. Wishing for his return became a desire to forestall their meeting when she heard his unit arrive without fanfare at first light. She heard the rattle of his saber as he ran toward their house.

Gazing into her father’s features as they slowly altered from relief to suspicion, she knew her explanations would never be enough.

“Are you all right, daughter?” He was covered with two days’ dust and the evidence of a hard ride. In his hands, he held the robe she’d discarded at the stream.

“Yes, I’m—”

“The major?”

“An Apache raiding party surprised us. He’s in the infirmary.”

“I’ll want a report when he’s well enough to give it.” His unswerving glare said he’d demand more than that.

“Of course. Papa—”

“Get some sleep.” His curt words said clearly that whatever she would say, he wasn’t yet ready to hear. He wheeled around and announced, “I’m going to check on the major’s progress.”

She rose up out of the chair. “I’ll go with you.”

His stare slashed back to her. “Not like that. Make yourself presentable.”

Clutching the edges of the blanket, she blinked back the sting of pain his words provoked and nodded. He drew a fierce breath, then calmed enough to say in a tight voice, “I’ll wait here for you. It would look better for us to make this visit together.”

She washed up hastily, fighting to drag her comb through hair tangled beyond taming, then slipping on a simple calico gown. Her fatigued thoughts tumbled over what conclusions her father must have come to, but knowing him to be a fair man, she didn’t fear he’d act upon angry impulse. He’d first find out the facts. Then the two of them would feel the backlash of his distress.

He was more than an upset parent. He was the post commander with the power of supreme justice in his hands.

The fact that Noble appeared at their door before they could go to him spoke well on his behalf. Wearing a fresh uniform and white bandaging at his brow, he looked haggard but no less determined to see to his duty.

Crowley’s expression was struck from stone
as he said, “Come in, Major.” No offer of a drink or a smoke. Strictly business. Or strictly personal. Either boded ill.

Noble’s gaze flickered briefly to the corner chair Juliet slipped into to sit pale and silent. In her simply cut calico dress, her wayward hair restrained in a ribbon, she looked almost like a chastened schoolgirl. Her expression was similarly restrained; she met his smile of encouragement with an impassive nod.

“Your report, Major.”

“There were eight hostiles, sir. Mescalero Apache. I believe their intention was to take us south of the border to be sold into slavery.”

Crowley paced, listening distractedly to Noble’s factual rendering that made little of his heroics and much of Juliet’s. Suddenly, he paused, his back to his junior officer.

“And what were your intentions?”

“Excuse me, sir?”

Crowley whirled toward him, using the momentum to put staggering force behind his cold demand. “What were your intentions toward my daughter that left you open to attack? Dammit, man, I entrusted you with the only thing I hold higher than my honor. I thought you understood that nothing—
nothing
—was more important than her safety. You have failed me and you have failed her, and I’ve a mind to have you shot for dereliction of duty.”

“I would deserve it, sir.”

Colonel Crowley glared at the younger man,
trying to find a chink of self-interest in his flat claim. Finding none, he gave a snort of disgust and turned away, fearing the other would see his grudging admiration.

Juliet took advantage of the pause to say, “It was the major’s cunning and superior horsemanship that earned our freedom from the Apache.”

Crowley refused to be impressed. “And was it his poor judgment that led to your capture in the first place?”

“Papa,” she beseeched quietly, “it was not the major’s fault, it was mine. No harm was done.”

He stared at her, the anxiety and sorrow he’d suffered over the past days etched clearly in his features. “No harm? Is that how you summarize the conclusions drawn by a detail of men sent to retrieve you when they arrived at the riverbed to find only your clothing and the major’s dress shirt and boots laid out ever so neatly on the bank?”

Noble spoke up then with a formal civility. “Sir, if your daughter’s honor has been compromised by my actions, be assured that I will do the right thing.”

Juliet sat bolt upright, too shocked to react to what was coming.

Crowley glared through him. “If you’d done the
right
thing, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Then he unbent slightly. “So you are willing to repair the damage done by wedding my daughter.”

“If that’s what it takes, sir.”

Juliet’s disbelieving gaze flew between the two of them. It was a joke, of course, a test on her father’s part to gauge the depth of Noble’s sincerity. Surely no more than that. Surely her father would accept the gesture for what it was, a token offer, and dismiss the whole affair.

But that wasn’t her father’s intention.

“I suppose that would be a satisfactory solution to this unfortunate matter.”

That’s when Juliet lost all patience and surged from her chair.

“Satisfactory? To whom?”

“Hush, girl. This does not concern you.”

“Doesn’t concern me? I beg your pardon—who then does it concern?”

“This is a matter of honor between men.”

Her stare focused on Noble in amazement. He stood at stiff attention, willing to shoulder this unnecessary punishment without complaint or betraying emotion. Without any emotion at all.

And that’s what stabbed to the heart. After what they’d endured, after all they’d shared, how could he let her father push them into an arrangement so bereft of feeling? Or think that she’d be a party to it?

She’d always dreamed of receiving a proposal of marriage. And this was not how she’d pictured the moment. Distress quivered through her response.

“Oh? Then if this does not concern me, it’s
the two of you who’ll share the marriage bed?”

Her bold reply took her father aback. “Juliet, your behavior is unacceptable.”

She turned on him, fighting back angry tears. “What is unacceptable is your belief that I would willingly wed a man who considers having me for a wife preferable only to a firing squad.” She drew a fractured breath and faced Noble in all her shredded dignity. “Thank you, Major Banning, but that sacrifice will not be necessary.”

“Jules—”

“Nothing happened between the major and me that requires hasty nuptials. I will not crawl into wedlock as if I’ve done something sinful.”

“No one is saying—”

“Isn’t that exactly what you’re saying, Papa?”

He met her challenging stare for as long as he could, then shamefacedly turned away. “Of course not, my dear.”

Stepping between them, she demanded, “Then dismiss Major Banning. I’m exhausted and need to sleep. I’m eager to put this whole event behind me.”

“Major Banning, you may go. I thank you for bringing my daughter back safely.”

“Just doing my duty, sir.”

That crisp rejoinder slashed Juliet almost as sharply as his icy stare. She made her tone cool to deflect the hurt. “I appreciate your rescuing
me, Major Banning, but my virtue does not require your heroic efforts.”

His gaze narrowed. In a soft aside for their hearing alone, he asked, “Is it the situation you found so intolerable, or was it my offer?”

She never missed a beat. “Both, sir.”

“Then forgive me for attempting to rescue that which was never in jeopardy.” He turned from her to give his commanding officer a brisk salute. “Good night, sir.”

“Good morning, Major.”

When he was gone, Crowley sighed and shook his head at his daughter. “You’ve ruined things this time, Jules.”

“What? What do you mean, ruined things?”

“He would have married you, you know.”

She swallowed down the massive lump of missed opportunity to mutter, “Yes, I know. But I couldn’t let you railroad him for something he’s not guilty of.”

“I never thought him guilty.”

“You—you knew he was innocent of any wrongdoing? Then why were you going to accept his offer?”

“Because he would have made you an excellent husband, Jules. He has no plans to remain in the army, and I was hoping that when he went, you would go with him.”

She stared at him, aghast. “But Papa, why?” Tears of confusion glimmered in her eyes.

“I lost my wife because she insisted upon following the drum. I just yesterday realized I could lose you as well. And I couldn’t bear to
lose you, Jules.” His voice broke, and he started to turn away. That’s when Juliet caught him about the neck in a fierce embrace.

“Oh, Papa, you’re not going to lose me. Not to the Apache. Not to Noble Banning. I promised Mama I’d look after you and I’ve no plans to break that promise. Ever.”

John Crowley held his daughter to him, loving her so much that he was furious with her for foiling his attempt to see her happy. A young woman didn’t find happiness keeping house for her father. She found it with a husband. And he’d found that man for Juliet, whether she was ready to accept the choice or not.

And he hoped he wouldn’t have to resort to the threat of a firing squad to get them to the altar.

How dare she throw his proposal back in his face as if it were an insult!

Noble headed for his quarters, too angry to limp. The pain in his feet was nothing compared to the raw state of his pride. It was pride. What else could it be? Why else would he react to her rebuff with such surprise and indignation?

With such a sense of loss.

He’d only meant to do what was proper. The gentlemanly thing. That’s how he’d been raised. These crazy Northern women didn’t have the social acumen to realize that. What kind of man would he have been if he hadn’t
volunteered to shield her honor from loose talk?

Well, if Miss Juliet Crowley considered herself above the stain of gossip, who was he to try to save her name?

She’d made it very clear, hadn’t she, that she had no interest in anything serious.

Well, that suited him just fine. Just fine. The last thing he needed was to return to Pride County dragging an opinionated free spirit like Juliet as his bride. The very last thing …

Damn her, she could have at least said thank-you.

It was then that Miles Dougherty had the bad timing to step into his path to grab his shirtfront and sneer, “How dare you put your hands on her, you—”

Noble filled in the rest of his nasty supposition with the row of his knuckles.

He stood over Dougherty, too angry to seek self-control. “How dare you, sir, suggest that the lady would allow me that kind of liberty or that I would take it. And if I find that you are treating her as any less than the lady she is by repeating your filthy innuendos, I will do the honorable thing and carve your heart out.”

At least here was a man who understood honor. Miles paled, and though still plainly furious, stammered, “I never meant to suggest that Juliet was anything less than a lady.”

“Didn’t you?”

Noble stepped over him and continued to
his quarters. Once inside, he leaned back against the door and wondered who’d angered him more—Miles for insinuating what hadn’t happened or himself for wishing it had.

Chapter 12

Juliet!

Noble sat up, breathing hard, his gaze darting about for signs of danger.

But it was the impatient blare of the bugle that jerked him from slumber, not the Apache war cries that undulated through his dream.

He exhaled slowly and eased back onto his bed. It seemed like only minutes ago that he’d laid his head down and closed his eyes. The temptation to pull his pillow over his head was mighty, but he resisted. He couldn’t hide from the day forever.

Or from Juliet.

Movements as slow as those of an ancient, he eased from bed and dressed for duty, indulging in a full chorus of moans and groans because there was no one to hear him. Tugging on his boots gave him a long moment’s pause as leather met the throbbing soles of his feet. But the thought of coffee, harsh and black, was enough to coax him into taking the
first few baby steps that eventually became a gingerly wobble.

If Juliet could see him now, she’d find nothing to impress her.

That thought stiffened his spine. Heaven forbid that the perfect Miss Crowley find him lacking as a man. She’d made no bones about how she felt he’d fare as a husband.

The morning air was already hot enough to steam the crease from his trousers. He’d joined in the grumbling exodus leading to the mess hall when he heard his name called.

“Banning.”

The lack of rank or civility in that address brought him about with a frown to see Miles Dougherty. The sight of the major’s swollen upper lip almost made him smile.

“The colonel wants to see you and your senior officers. Right now.”

Something in the hard edge of that command alerted Noble. Whatever was on the colonel’s mind that would take precedence over coffee wasn’t something he was going to like. He grabbed onto a private, bidding him locate Bartholomew and Allen, then started for the colonel’s quarters at a less than enthusiastic amble.

Miles held the door open for him. The man’s grim demeanor again warned of trouble to come. Crowley was pacing in front of the wood stove, his hands working fiercely at his sides.

“Where are your officers, Major?”

“On their way, sir. Might I ask what this is about?” Had he decided on a firing squad after all?