The Major's Wife. Lauri Robinson

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СКАЧАТЬ off in Tulsa,” Ben said directly to him. “It got caught in a knothole on the train platform. Ralph fixed it, but it broke off again yesterday.”

      Seth didn’t need an explanation; it made little difference. Yet because in most instances he did expect full reports from his men, he nodded to Cutter before he asked her, “Don’t you have another pair of boots or shoes?”

      The sideways glance she sent his way was full of intolerance. “Do you honestly think I’d be wearing these if I had another pair?”

      That, too, sounded like Rosemary.

      She lifted the tapestry bag Russ had set on the table. “I have day slippers I can wear now, but they wouldn’t have held up while traveling.” Turning to Ben, she smiled. “I packed everything I’ll need in here last night, after you and Mr. Winston explained the layout of the fort.”

      “Here, then, ma’am, I’ll carry that for you,” Ben replied, taking the bag and holding the door wide with his other hand.

      “Thank you.” Chin up, she marched—with her awkward high-low steps—out the door, without a single backward glance.

      Seth was just fine with that. Though he did follow as far as the opening. A crowd had formed, which was to be expected. The fort was close-knit, more so than some families, and there were a few men who’d probably been standing right outside the door, attempting to hear every word. They were off to the sides now, watching curiously. Only a select number of people had known he was married, but once the telegram came in, announcing her arrival, word had spread fast. A twinge pulled at his forehead. He’d have to tell his mother now, and better send the letter soon. If someone else mentioned it, she’d never forgive him.

      “Major, sir,” Ralph Winston said, clicking his heels together as he stopped next to the open doorway. “Did Ben explain your wife wasn’t hurt, other than a broken heel, when she fell? I did fix her boot, but without the proper tools, it broke again.”

      Seth was grinding his teeth again; he had to pull them apart to answer. “Yes, he did.”

      “She was attempting to help us load her luggage, sir. We told her it wasn’t necessary. Half the town thought it was a gunshot, the way the sound echoed beneath the platform.” Winston wiped his brow and replaced his hat. “My heart danged near stopped working, seeing her sprawled out on the ground.”

      Seth was a touched surprised by the concern that raced over him—and irritated. One more person to be concerned about. Responsible for. Army men were one thing. Women and children another—and something he never wanted to have to worry about again.

      The giggle that sounded a short distance down the walkway snagged his attention, but through will alone, he kept his gaze from turning that way. He was about to dismiss Winston when the man continued.

      “She’s a trooper, Major. Was laughing to beat the band when I helped her to her feet. Never saw a woman laugh at herself like that.”

      Seth’s spine stiffened all over again. The Rosemary he knew—or the one he thought he knew—would never have laughed at herself. True, he’d left Richmond less then twenty-four hours after meeting her, returned here to the Indian Wars, but her attitude, her persona, had imbedded itself within him the first hour he’d known her.

      “I’ll see the heel gets repaired properly this time, sir.”

      After a nod, Seth waved a hand, dismissing Winston. His eyes then went to where his wife entered the door to a room with tubs and water barrels. The officers’ quarters were separate homes with space for private bathing, and Rosemary would have demanded to know why he didn’t live in one of them.

      He turned and reentered his cabin. Even after becoming a major, he’d gone on living in the barracks. Back then things had been so busy, he hadn’t had time to think beyond knowing he had a bed to fall into at night.

      The turmoil had calmed down considerably over the past few years, even more the past months, but he still hadn’t thought about moving. Besides, the major’s house, as it was known, had become a catchall. Storage for items no one knew what to do with.

      As Seth spun to shut the door, the hairs on his neck stood up. People were still gathered about, some pretending to be on missions, whereas in reality they were staring at him. Watching for his next move.

      That was common. By nature, and due to his position, everyone at the fort was always watchful for his command. This was different, though. It had nothing to do with army business, and... A heavy sigh escaped, one he hadn’t known had built in his chest. He didn’t know what his next move would be, either.

      That was an oddity. For the first time in a very, very long time, he was at a loss.

      “Major?” A hand planted itself on the half-closed door.

      “Briggs,” he said, in answer to the man pushing the door open again.

      “I see your wife,” the Swede said in his deep and gruff voice. “I bring food. Here to your cabin, she eat after cleaning up. No?”

      It didn’t matter what the man said, question or statement usually ended with no. And right now, it fit. “No, Briggs. If she’s hungry she can eat at the hall like everyone else.”

      “But Major, a woman—”

      “She might as well get used to it.”

      The startled look on the cook’s face made something recoil inside Seth. He usually got along with his men, because of mutual respect, but the way he’d just snapped at the Swede, said he didn’t like it. Seth squared his shoulders, let his stance confirm who was in charge. “Is there anything else you needed, Sergeant?”

      “No, Major. Sir.”

      The man spun around, and this time Seth all but slammed the door. Exactly what he’d always suspected. A wife would interfere with his duties.

      * * *

      A reflection of the dented brass tub caught in the mirror. The accommodations were rough, but she’d never enjoyed a bath as much. Twisting, needing the mirror’s assistance in placing the combs, Millie coiled each braided length and pinned them in place at the back of her head. Drying it would take an hour, and curling it even longer, and she didn’t have that kind of time. Besides, just as she’d suspected, curled hair would not convince Seth she was Rosemary.

      Satisfied the combs were secure in hair that was once again brown and not dust gray, Millie tidied up the area before opening her bag to stuff her boots on top of the traveling suit that would never be pale green again. It had been new at the beginning of her journey, and clothes usually lasted her years. A miniature shiver had her lifting her head, gazing toward the mirror again.

      The reflection in the glass mocked her. Millie would be sad about the dress, Rosemary would not. An invisible weight pressed upon her shoulders, so heavily she sat down next to her bag. Being Rosemary was more difficult than she’d imagined. Back in the cabin, when Seth had voiced his suspicion, it had been easy to know what to say. People often confused the two of them, especially from a distance, but in reality, her sister was more attractive, and never failed to remind her of it.

      After she’d pulled Rosemary into her mind and said those words to Seth, her stomach had twisted inside out. His expression had turned hard; those piercing blue eyes had gone cold enough that she’d shivered. СКАЧАТЬ