The Peacemaker (15 page)

"Tess?" she queried now, cautious not to sound overly interested.

"Jim's former fiancée. Coincidentally or maybe ironically, their wedding date was the same date the court sentenced him to hang. I didn't know it the other day, when I brought up Tess's name, that she had refused his request to see him the night before the sentence was to be carried out."

"She refused? But they were to be married! How could she have been so unfeeling? What kind of woman would—?" She stopped abruptly having heard the fiery passion in her own voice.

"I guess you would have to know Tess," he said, as if that explained it. "Now, of course, Jim has decided it was a good thing that she refused him. If she hadn't, he wouldn't have gone into a rage and he wouldn't have found a way to escape. And now, with your father's help, he might be able to prove his innocence. He
is
innocent, Indy," he added with strong emphasis.

"You obviously know him very well?"

"We grew up together. We were like brothers. I trust him implicitly."

Indy danced a second time with Captain Nolan, then with one partner after another until, much to her surprise, her father claimed her.

He was not an easy partner to follow; his movements were quick and sharp, like the way he barked orders to his men.

"Captain Nolan is taking care of the men's punch, I take it?"

Indy nodded. "You haven't said whether or not everything is to your satisfaction. There wasn't much to work with as far as food, drink, and music, but we all did the best we could."

"As you say—considering what there was to work with, I suppose it was the best that could be done," he said in a tight voice.

'Yes, it was," she replied sadly, bending her head to hide her hurt. Again she had hoped for a kind word and again was hurt and disappointed.

"Where's Major Garrity?" the colonel asked.

She looked up and glanced around but didn't see either the major or Prudence. "I have no idea. He was here, dancing with Mrs. Stallard a short while ago."

The music ended and he abruptly dropped his hands to his sides. "When you see him, tell him I said he should begin the selection of the trainees right after breakfast call."

"Surely you could tell him. I'm certain he's here somewhere."

"No, I could not. I'm retiring for the evening. I want to sit down and read Justice's letters." He started to turn away but Indy caught hold of his sleeve.

"But, Father, you can't leave. Not yet. It wouldn't be right. What will people say? Besides, you've read those old letters a hundred times before. I don't understand . . ."

His nostrils flared in sudden anger and the look he turned on her was as sharp as the cutting edge of his sword. "No, of course
you
wouldn't understand," he seethed between his teeth. "Your mother didn't understand either—the bond between Justice and me. But at least your mother— God rest her soul—had sense enough to know her place and not try to come between us. But not you. You looked for every way you could to break us apart. And you finally found a way, didn't you?"

Unconsciously, she raised her arms and steepled her hands in front of her face. "I didn't know it was smallpox. All I knew was that they were children, Father," she reminded him with a fervent plea for compassion and understanding—as she had so many times before. "They were orphans. No one wanted to help take care of them. I couldn't refuse. You know that. They needed—" Her voice broke preventing her from finishing.

His mouth was set in a thin line. "If they needed you so much, why didn't you stay there with them! Your mother and Justice would be alive today if you hadn't come home. You killed them just as surely as if you had stabbed them to death. And you dare wonder why I read and reread Justice's letters? Those
old
letters are all you left me of my boy—my life. They give me comfort, as nothing else does." He stood glowering at her, his gray eyes stone-cold and narrowed with hate, then turned on his heel, and marched off.

Too stunned to move, Indy held her breath as she watched him leave. After a moment she became aware of people staring at her, and gathering what was left of her pride, she slowly turned to meet their curious stares. "Excuse me," she mumbled to no one and everyone as she threaded her way between couples to the door, where she escaped into the dark of the night.

You killed them just as surely as if you had stabbed them to death. You killed them— Killed them— Killed! Killed!

She walked aimlessly, blindly, with no idea where she was going. She had barely reached the end of the building when someone stepped out in front of her and clutched her upper arms.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

She had opened her mouth to scream, then recognized the voice. Him! Jim Garrity!

"That's the second time you've scared me half to death!" She put her hand to her breast, trying to still her pounding heart.

"Better to scare you than let you go off half-cocked into the desert where you could get yourself killed."

Breathless and growing angrier by the second she came back at him. "I really don't think it's any of your business where I go." She would have said more if she could have caught her breath.

"It's not safe for you to go beyond camp," he told her in a low, even voice that might have sounded reasonable to anyone else's ears, but not to Indy's.

"Thank you for the warning. Should anything happen to me, you can tell them you did everything you could to stop me." She struggled against his iron hold, but his grip was firm, inflexible. She dropped her arms to her sides, pretending resignation.

"Believe me, Indy, I
will
do everything I can to stop you. Even if it means hurting you. So don't test me," he warned. Hard and implacable, he was as frightening now as when she had first seen him.

She shivered at the memory—still so vivid. So terrifying. It was that memory that gave her an uncommon surge of strength. With a violent jerk that caught him off guard, she broke free and started to run.

"Indy! Don't!" His hand reached out whiplash quick, grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her back with an economy of movement and speed that both surprised and baffled her. "Did you really think I'd let you go? You don't take advice very well, do you?"

She was trying to catch her breath. "Advice, Major? Funny, it sounded more like a threat to me."

"Call it whatever you want. It makes no difference. You still aren't leaving this camp!" Overhead the moon peeked between the dark clouds allowing her to clearly see his features. His eyes were diamond bright. Diamond hard. His gaze cut right through her.

Before, she had been bent on a walk to escape the curious stares and to soothe her wounds. But now, her only thought was to escape Jim Garrity! But how? She was willing to try anything. Fighting. Crying. Screaming. Intimidation . . . .

Drawing herself up, stiff and straight, she assumed a haughty pose. "It seems you have forgotten your place, Major. May I remind you that I am your commanding officer's daughter? If you don't let me go this instant, I'll have my father charge you with insubordination and he'll have you thrown in the guardhouse!"

He did release her, but she could see in his challenging expression that she was far from free. He stood staring at her, his long, lean body negligently poised, legs apart, arms now folded across his chest, clearly not the least bit intimidated.

"The guardhouse, huh? Too bad. I was actually looking forward to riding the cannon."

Her mouth fell open. "Why would you say—? How did you know—?"

"Let's just say the colonel is an easy man to figure."

"You really
are
impertinent!"

"Among other things," he replied with cool mockery.

"Yes, among other things," she agreed, glaring at him. "Arrogant. Insolent. Rude. Despicable. Shall I go on?"

"Whatever you want. You'll find me most accommodating," he said, raising her ire to the boiling point. "You could try mean, hateful, insolent— Oh, no, you already used insolent. How about—?"

"How about offensive and contemptible?" she supplied, fussing with the lace edge of her bodice. "That should pretty well cover it, though if I think on it awhile longer I'm sure I'll come up with a few more."

"Indy. Listen to me. You didn't come out here to quarrel with me and I sure as hell don't want to quarrel with you. If you'll calm down a minute, there's a thing or two I'd like to tell you about what I overheard that bastard father of yours say to you inside." He hesitated when he saw her chin jut out in anger and defiance.

"I'm not interested in anything you have to say, Major. Especially when you call my father a bastard!"

"Stubborn as an Army mule, aren't you? Too bad you don't have a mule's savvy."

Her chin snapped up. "What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, ready to begin doing battle all over again.

"It means that a mule is smart enough to know when to quit, unlike his cousin, the loyal and trusting horse, who will run himself to death trying to please his master."

"Horses! Mules! You're talking in riddles." Militantly, she crossed her arms in front of her and spun around, presenting him with her backside.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about." He moved up behind her and gripped her upper arms. "When was it that your mother and brother died? Seven years ago? All that time you've tried every way you could think of to earn your father's forgiveness. But you've wasted your time. He'll
never
forgive you. There's too much hate in him." Strong hands squeezed her tender flesh but she wouldn't give him the pleasure of letting him know that he was hurting her. "It's time to come to terms with the fact that you can't make him forgive you or love you. It's time to quit trying and start living your life."

Every muscle in her body stiffened in defiance. "How dare you say this to me!"

"I dare just about anything I damn well please, lady! I always have and I always will."

She tried every means possible to hold back the tears but nothing worked. They filled her eyes and slid slowly and silently down her cheeks.

"Indy." There was an unspoken message in the way he whispered her name that told her he regretted having spoken so harshly. She tried to choke back a sob but the effort was beyond her. She was weary of hiding her hurt, tired of pretending that there was still a chance that her father would eventually forgive her. He was right. It was time to face reality; time to give up, to quit.

She shuddered with the force of her pain and Jim pulled her back against him, fitting her curves solidly against his hard length. His arms bound her in a tight knot of muscle and sinew. There was comfort within his arms.  Comfort. Shelter. Compassion. All the things she had longed for. All the things she had never had.

"What I wanted to tell is that I've seen a lot of smallpox, in the Army and out here. Once it starts it spreads like wildfire. Whole Indian camps, wagon trains, even towns have been wiped out—all from one person passing it to another. It can't be helped."

She shook her head emphatically. "Father was right, if I had stayed there at the orphanage—if I hadn't come home—" she broke off, unable to continue.

Bending his head, he rested his chin on her crown. "If. If. If. You don't know that for a fact, Indy." His warm breath stirred her hair and sparked a sleeping fire deep down inside her, causing her to shudder. "The children in the orphanage—they weren't the only ones in town with the disease, were they?"

When she didn't answer, he moved her slightly to the right and bent even lower so his mouth was at her temple. "Come on now, Indy. Answer me. There were other cases in town, weren't there?" Lifting a hand he took her chin between his thumb and index finger and brought her head around so that they were face-to-face and eye-to-eye. His warm, moist breath, smelling faintly of brandy, intoxicated her as if she had consumed it herself.

"I—I think so," she managed, but just barely. "Yes, there were other cases." She blinked her eyes and swallowed down her anxiety.

"Don't you see, Indy? That means that anyone entering your home, a friend, a servant, a merchant, anyone—even your father—could have brought the disease into the house."

Her eyes widened. "Father?" She pondered the idea, thinking back, but so much time had passed her memories were dim and the way Jim was holding her, touching her, was making it impossible to concentrate. She wondered if he had any idea what effect he was having upon her.

"Anyone," he stated.

She stared up at him. "I— That never occurred to me before."

"You got sick too, didn't you?" At her nod, he added, "But you survived. And now every time he looks at you he's reminded of what he lost. He's the kind of man who has to put the blame on somebody and you have always allowed that somebody to be you."

His look of arrogant self-assurance was gone. In its place was a look of--  She hesitated to give it a name, thinking she had to be misreading it, that it was her imagination, and it didn' t really exist.

He let go of her chin and ran his fingers down the side of her neck and stopped at the base of her throat, his thumb resting on her pounding pulse. He
had
to know what he was doing to her, touching her like that. He had to be able to see the desire in her eyes, the wanting. Closing her eyes she wet her lips and let herself imagine what his lips would feel like against hers.

His mouth came down over hers. The imagined kiss was nothing like the reality. This—this she couldn't have imagined without some former knowledge and even then . . . She had seen couples kissing and experienced a chaste kiss or two herself, but nothing had prepared her for the excitement and depth of emotion that he was causing her to feel.

She felt his hand move back up her neck, then across her cheek to wipe away the trail of tears. His thumb tickled the corner of her mouth, coaxing her lips apart.

She didn't understand his unspoken request, but she didn't object to it, at least not until the moment when he slipped his tongue between her lips and plunged deep inside her mouth to taste and explore her. Shocked and bewildered, she tried to close her mouth but he refused to let her, and then after a moment she gave in to the awesome sensations he was arousing within her— sensations she had never felt before, never even knew existed.