All or Nothing (18 page)

Chapter 26

RuthAnne dreamily walked to the mess hall. She knew her blue dress had rumpled from the ride and her hair must be disheveled around her shoulders, but the world looked crystal clear. Nodding to a group of young men waiting for supper, she stepped into line, taking a tin plate in hand. Aromas of roasting beef, bubbling gravy, and freshly baked cornbread wafted in the air. Though the scent was heavenly, RuthAnne’s stomach was in knots.

That was Bowen’s fault. The man drove her to distraction. Coming for food was more for survival than outright hunger. She couldn’t bear to return to the confines of her quarters in the stifling evening heat. RuthAnne knew she was out of sorts, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. Things were starting to come to a head. She would have to send a telegram tomorrow calling for the army transport to deliver their shipment from storage. She needed to meet with the new quartermaster and explain her situation. This twisted her insides. Evan had always been the one who conducted their business dealings, and now it was finally her turn. What would she say? How should she conduct herself?

“Mrs. Newcomb?” Major Kendrick stepped to her side, taking her by the elbow.

“Major? Yes. What can I do for you?” She held her plate out for a spoonful of the flavorful refried beans, a slab of roast beef, and a cake of cornbread to top it off, her appetite finally finding her.

“You’re wanted in the commander’s office.” He cleared his throat.

Dolly’s admonition came back to warn her, filling her with dread. “I’ve been out all day, sir. I’ll see him after my meal.”

“The commander doesn’t like to wait...”

“Then the commander shouldn’t interrupt people at dinnertime. I’ll be there presently.” Her heart hammered in her chest.

“I’ll wait for you outside then, ma’am.”

This meeting would obviously be unavoidable. She nodded at him, unable to speak further. She doubted if she’d be able to stomach her meal now, but she forced herself to go to one of the long tables and sit to eat.

Folding her hands, she tried to pray. Tried to be grateful. But all she could see in her mind’s eye was Evan’s face, in shock of being shot. Blood dripping from his mouth. The gurgling sound of his chest.

He hadn’t been a bad man, but she wasn’t sure he’d been a good one, either. She had always wondered what had been so urgent to send him out that day. Why he had never told her details, treated her like a real partner. Resentment built in her breast at the old thoughts, the old memories, but she pushed it aside. No one deserved to die that way, no matter what they had done, especially not Evan.

After making Kendrick wait a long spell, RuthAnne forced herself to leave the confines of the mess hall and face the commander. He had seemed so regal when she had met him at the dance. Still, true colors didn’t paint a pretty picture.

Kendrick marched her across the compound. She watched a lace curtain fall across a lighted window at the Carington house. Bowen had been right. This place seemed to have eyes everywhere. Kendrick straightened his coat and his shoulders, cleared his throat, and turned his beady black eyes to RuthAnne with tightened lips. He rapped twice on the door and then opened it, gesturing for her to head on inside.

A lamp lit the room in a warm amber glow. The commander sat behind his large, cherrywood, leather-topped desk. His uniform was neat and pressed; his bright blue-gray eyes looked tired but perked up when she entered. RuthAnne wondered at this man and what she knew from Dolly’s story. Her skin prickled.

“Please, sit.” He gestured to the cane-backed chair opposite him, and she did as directed, hands folded primly in her lap. He offered tea, which she politely declined.

His lips twitched in amusement. “Don’t think you’re in trouble, Mrs. Newcomb. I only wanted to welcome you in private. It seems that you have developed a low opinion of me since we last met.”

“Not low, sir. I only wonder at the circumstance. What could you possibly want with me so late on a Sunday?” Her back was straight. Though her words may have seemed brazen, her manner remained demure. She kept one eye on the door and her feet firmly planted on the floor, ready to flee.

“I only wanted to know how long you plan to be with us. The life of a laundress is transient at best. Most of our women are married. Or widows, like you? Perhaps you’ve come all of this way to settle? Find a new husband? Start a new life?”

“I won’t be staying on past the summer, Commander, though I do appreciate being in the army’s service. Once my business is settled, I plan on heading further west.”

“I see. And what business is that, my dear?” He stood and moved to the corner of his desk. The space between them closed rapidly. At that moment, she saw how sinuous his hands were. He was a strong man. A driven man. Someone used to getting what he wanted. Right now, it was fast becoming evident that he wanted her.

“I’m a seamstress by trade, sir. We were dealing with your former quartermaster. The uniforms that were ordered for this fort are ready for delivery, waiting at the La Junta station in Colorado.”

“We?” He leaned forward, intending to make her nervous. Thriving from the possibility of her fear. And she was playing into his hands. That would never do. She had to think, but there was no air in this close space.

“I. I mean I was. Am. My husband is no longer living,” she stammered, hating the way she sounded. Small. Feminine. Weak. Her heart hammered, blood rushed in her ears. RuthAnne fought to remain calm.

“Yes, I heard something about that. I’m sorry. Well, you by now have heard our quartermaster met an untimely demise. My son, Marcus, will be filling in that capacity.”

“Your son?” And then her line of defense struck her like a thunderbolt. She let a smile rise to her lips. “To think, it’s your son who’s the new quartermaster! What luck for me, I can’t imagine!”

Post Commander Carington’s expression faltered.

“I do hope he is as brave and charming as his father...that would be a treat.” She breathed a sigh, giving a slight laugh. “Here I thought you were flirting when you were charming me for your son. I do hope he isn’t married. Like you are, I mean. Married. To Clara.”

“Yes. No. He isn’t, but we aren’t through discussing your situation. What can I do for you to make your stay with us more...comfortable?”

“You’ve gone above and beyond to make me feel very at home, sir.”

His mouth twitched, and she knew this was her time to escape.

“Please tell your son that I look forward to meeting with him and discussing our arrangement. Thank you, sir, for taking such a personal interest in my well-being. Good day, Commander.”

She launched herself out the door and into the night air. Cicadas chirped and sang around her in a cacophony of sound. She couldn’t leave fast enough, and Kendrick watched her go in surprise.

The commander’s booming voice shot out behind her like a cannon, ordering her to come back, but RuthAnne was already gone.

She hurried through the stand of officers’ houses, passing the Carington residence in a flurry. A hand reached out of the darkness, grabbing her arm in a vice-like grip.

Clara Carington’s eyebrows knit together in disapproval. “So, you not only meet with my husband in secret, you saunter past my house to rub it in, eh?” The minty scent of laudanum was on her breath, slurring her speech.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean.” RuthAnne looked around for someone, anyone who was bearing witness. There was nothing but dark and shadow around every corner. Windows shut tight against the desert heat. Inside, lanterns burned brightly. She couldn’t believe this woman was accosting her and there was no one around to intervene.

“Don’t play innocent with me. Do you think I don’t know what you’re up to? Don’t I have eyes? You, who come from nowhere with no means and nothing to show for your life? Hand-me-down clothes. Borrowed shoes. Counting on others to clothe and feed you. Tempting my husband into warming your bed? What sort of woman are you to break apart a family under everyone’s nose?”

“Mrs. Carington...”

“That’s right. I’m
Mrs. Carington
. And if you even speak to my husband again, I’ll have you thrown in the brig. And don’t think I can’t do it.”

RuthAnne dragged her arm away from Clara’s claws. “Don’t touch me again, ma’am. You don’t know anything about me but what the gossip hounds are saying. Don’t pretend to know me or my intentions.”

Turning on her heel, she left Clara Carington in the dust. RuthAnne stormed back to the laundresses’ quarters. So, this was to be her lot in life, was it? To be accused of adultery? Of tempting another woman’s husband?

Apparently, that was what the uneducated thought motivated the laundresses here at the fort. No one saw the good they did for the soldiers, for their morale. When there was no one to care for them, the laundresses saw to it they were sharp and mended. The married officers’ wives simply saw them as a distraction for their husbands. It was outrageous!

Hearing Dolly’s tittering laugh was a relief, and RuthAnne followed the sound out into the open air at the back of the building.

“Ruthie! You’re back!” Dolly flew into RuthAnne’s arms, hugging her until the air whooshed out of her lungs.

“Barely. You wouldn’t believe...” RuthAnne started on a rant and then noticed Katie sitting on a crate, happily swinging her legs. She was eating a piece of peppermint stick candy, looking rather pleased with herself in her falling down braids and nightdress.

“Mr. Baker brought us a whole jar of peppermint, just like he has behind the counter at the post store! Would you like some?” This level of enthusiasm was rare, even for Katie. RuthAnne raised an eyebrow at Dolly who simply shrugged.

“I don’t know what to tell you! Whit’s been like a breath of fresh air. Katie’s fallen completely head over heels for him.”

“He took us on a picnic!” Katie was aglow, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright. Her loose blonde braids flipped as she animatedly went on about their adventure. “We went into the canyon! We went all the way up a trail, to the pools at the bottom of the waterfalls. I even got to swim in the water! Mama said I looked like a fish!”

Dolly looked serene as she watched her little girl while twirling a small band on her finger. “You sure did, sweetie. A silver fish with a rainbow on its back, that was you.”

“Dolly...” RuthAnne leaned forward, taking her friend’s left hand in her own. “This is an engagement ring.”

“We’re getting married!” Katie smiled around the sticky candy.

Dolly Jewel could do nothing more but grin. “It would seem I am to become Mrs. Whit Baker. Come Sunday next.”

RuthAnne stared openmouthed, examining Dolly’s sparkling diamond. “So that was his intention? He got you alone and had the audacity to propose to you? Who knew Whit Baker was such a scoundrel!”

“Who proposed to whom? Did Bowen ask RuthAnne to get hitched?” Moira appeared in her gunnysack nightdress, hair tied in rags. RuthAnne blanched, while Dolly laughed.

“No! Though that would have been more likely.” Dolly smiled. “I’ve seen the way he pines for her.”

“He doesn’t pine for me. He isn’t the marrying kind. Told me so himself,” RuthAnne said.

Abigail wandered out to shoo in Moira when she saw the commotion. “Any man who says he’s not the marryin’ kind to a woman is obviously smitten and fighting it, tooth and nail.
Be patient
,
Ruthie, and you’ll get him. That’s how I caught my Lawrence, you know.”

RuthAnne waved a hand. This was not about her. It was about Dolly. “Our Dolly Jewel, here, is getting married.”

More squeals of excitement had the whole house in turmoil. The laundresses all piled together, offering advice and laughing over tales of weddings and honeymoon nights. The event became Dolly’s impromptu engagement party, with all the fussing-over and congratulations that a young bride-to-be deserved.

When the chaos subsided, Katie trundled off to her bed with dreams of a real father who gave her sticky peppermint candy and a house with a wood floor and a bona fide roof overhead. RuthAnne and Dolly sat down to talk.

RuthAnne caught her up with news of Mara’s healing, of Bowen’s search for her would-be killer, and the prospect of finishing her business with the new quartermaster. “Once Mara’s well enough, we’ll be ready to make some decisions.”

“You and Bowen?” Dolly teased. The pain in RuthAnne’s aching heart reached her eyes. “You love him, Ruthie. It’s plain to see.”

“I feel like I’ve known him forever. Like our time here is so short and if I don’t do something, I’ll lose him. But something stops me from saying so, every time.”

“Fear?” Dolly’s question hung in the air.

Was it? RuthAnne didn’t think so. “It’s more likely to be hope. He seems to be immune to hope of any nature. Anyway, I can’t sit around and wait for him to decide. There’s a whole world out there I’ve yet to see. Family Mara and I have yet to find; Evan’s family Bible is full of names and places we’ve never been. I’m going to search them out. Tell them what happened to him. Help him to rest. Then we can see about finding a place to call our own. Build a shop for ladies, like Mara and I always talked about.”

Dolly smacked herself on the forehead. “I almost forgot to tell you. I had a visit yesterday evening. From Miss Amanda Carington. Katie and I were at the store when she came in to post a wire. Seems she’s in love with a librarian from San Francisco. They’ve been writing each other most regularly, Whit says. Anyway, we got to talking about the dances and your skill with a needle. The whole place was talking about how you remade that dress into a showstopper. People keep asking after you, wanting your help.” She took a breath, cheeks pink with excitement while she let the news sink in.

“Seems Amanda’s got a trunk full of dresses that she’s giving you to start your own business. You can re-cut the material for any lady at the fort who wants to wear them. What do you think?”

RuthAnne’s mind was spinning. What did she think? It sounded like a business proposition. Like the shop that she and Mara had dreamed about when Evan was having them slave their fingers to the bone. “That’s amazing...”

“Not only that, Whit is going to throw in patterns and notions for a small percentage of your profit. My dear, if you want out of this man’s army, it seems you’ve already developed quite a following.”