Authors: Georgina Gentry
Colt (26 page)
“Hannah?”
“Colt? What are you doing here?”
He stumbled to his feet, and from here, she could smell the whiskey. “I don't know,” he mumbled. “Couldn't sleep. Sarge keeps screamin' in my ears.”
She walked out onto the porch and looked at him as he swayed on his feet. He was not only drunk; his green eyes had the glazed look of someone who had survived something too horrible to speak of. “You ought to go to bed,” she said gently.
“Can't. Can't sleep. Comanches.”
“I know.” She took his hand. “Maybe Doc can give you something to help.”
He shook his head, swaying on his feet. “Nothin' can help. I killed him. I killed Sarge. They had him.”
She realized what was haunting this big man and her heart went out to him. She put her finger to his lips to silence him and nodded that she understood. “It's all right,” she whispered. “You're a hero, you got most of the men home.”
“We lost a bunch,” he muttered and staggered, reaching for the bottle in his pocket. “No hero.” He could be in trouble if the guards found him drunk and wandering the post.
“Come in,” she whispered. “Come in and I'll make you some coffee.”
He shook his head and tipped up his bottle again. “No coffee. Don't want to get sober.”
Oh, God, what was she going to do? “Come inside, Lieutenant,” she said. “There's not enough whiskey in the whole world to wipe out those memories.”
He looked at her again gravely. “You understand.” He nodded. “Maybe the only one who understands.”
She had to do something. How could she explain to a guard or an outraged Olivia what she was doing out here on the porch in her nightgown with a very drunken Lieutenant Prescott?
“Come inside, Colt,” she whispered. “Come inside and we'll talk.” She took his arm and maneuvered him through her front door with him leaning on her. He was a big man, and it was all she could do to keep her balance under his weight.
Now that she had him inside, what was she to do with him? Maybe she could fill him with coffee and send him back to his quarters. Maybe she could lay him across her bed and let him sleep it off and get him on his feet and out of here before dawn. She led him toward her bedroom and helped him fall into bed.
He fell heavily and put his hand across his face while she took the bottle from his hand and set it on the dresser. “Sarge,” he mumbled. “Sarge. I killed him. They were torturin' himâ”
“You didn't mean to.” She reached to pull off his dusty boots and her lips trembled at his plight. She lay down next to him, kissed his cheek. “Go to sleep, Colt. Everything will be all right.”
“No, never be all right,” he mumbled. In the moonlight, she saw tears on his cheeks, and she had never felt such pity and such love before.
She put her arms around him and pulled his face against her breasts, ran her hands through his ebony hair very gently. “It will be all right,” she promised, although she had no idea how to comfort a man in such terrible mental anguish. “Sarge would have done the same for you. It takes a brave man to do what you did.”
He turned on his side and took her in his arms, crushing her to him, burying his face against her breasts. “Keep me from hearing screams,” he begged. “I keep hearin' Comanche drums and screams.”
She cuddled his face against her breast and kissed the side of his face and his ear. “All you hear is my heart beating. You're safe, Colt. You're safe now.”
He seemed to gradually relax in her arms and drifted off to sleep, but he didn't relax his grip on her. She lay holding him, stroking his hair and murmuring to him, wishing he was hers, knowing they would both be in big trouble if he was found here in her bed. But for tonight, she didn't care. She could pretend he was her man, and she kissed his face and whispered to him as he dropped off into a heavy sleep.
After an hour or so, she grew cramped, but she couldn't move because he had such a death grip on her with his face against her breasts. She could feel the heat of his breath through her thin nightdress, and she had yearnings that she had never had before and it surprised her. She lay holding him, thinking nothing good could ever come of her attraction to the lieutenant. In fact, she stood in the way of his advancement and society marriage. But for now, whatever comfort she could give him, he was welcome to.
Sometime in the middle of the night, he awakened and he was sober. He reached up and touched her face. “Have I been here long?”
“Yes,” she whispered and kissed his forehead.
He said nothing else, only turned up his face and kissed her in a slow, gentle way that made her want to pat his cheek and return his kiss and comfort him. He tasted of whiskey, but his mouth was warm and gentle. His big hand went to cover her breast, and she did not object as he pulled her nightdress off her shoulder and kissed there.
Tomorrow, he would again be Olivia's fiancé, but tonight, he was in Hannah's bed and if she could give him comfort, she would because she loved him so.
Colt kissed her breast and she threw her head back and let him do with her as he would. Perhaps a whore would have filled his need, but she did not care to think about that. She only wanted to hold him close and bring him whatever peace she could.
Now his kisses became more intense as he pulled her nightdress low and kissed and caressed both her breasts, fondling them gently while her breath quickened. Two men had bedded her in the past, but all had been hurried, vicious matings, with no tenderness and no love from either of the two. She knew she was getting only a glimpse of what love could be like with the right man, but of course, she would get only this small taste tonight, and tomorrow, he would return to the major's beautiful daughter.
Hannah did not care. She had tonight and maybe only tonight to last her the rest of her life, and maybe, just maybe, years from now when he was celebrating a golden anniversary, he might sip his wine, smile a little, and remember her and this night fondly.
She kissed his ear and breathed into it so that his breath deepened and he kissed and caressed her breasts and stroked her belly until her thighs felt hot and trembling.
He kissed her then again, deep and hot and possessive and she opened her lips and took his tongue and sucked it deep into her mouth while his hands roamed her as if she belonged to him.
“IâI have no rightâ” he gasped.
“I give you that right,” she whispered against his lips and pressed her body against him.
He groaned aloud and then his hand went between her thighs, touching her boldly and she let her thighs fall apart so that his fingers stroked her deeply and made her gasp and arch her back.
Then he was in her embrace, and he hesitated. “Hannah, I can't promiseâ”
“I don't give a damn,” she whispered fiercely. “Give me this night and I'll not ask for more!”
He put himself into her, and she knew at that moment what it meant when it was said two become one, for it seemed like they were one entity with them locked in each other's arms as he rode her very, very gently.
Hannah had never known desire. With both Luther and Spider, she had lain there stoically, gritting her teeth and waiting for them to finish humping and gasping on her, then roll off and turn their backs to sleep. But now she wanted Colt with every fiber of her being, and she felt her sudden wetness as her straining body welcomed his. They were locked in the rhythm of love until she reached a pinnacle she had never known before and began to stiffen and buck wildly under him. As if he had been awaiting that signal, his rhythm became faster and more intense until almost at the same moment, they were gasping and straining together as if they could not get enough of each other.
And afterward, he pushed her blond curls from her damp forehead and kissed her long and deep. “I'm sorry, Hannah,” he murmured. “I had no rightâno right.”
She embraced him and realized he had dropped off to sleep again, lying on her and in her, and she held him close and kissed his face. Tomorrow he would return to the major's daughter, but Hannah had had one brief glimpse of what love could be like and it would have to be enough to last her the rest of her life.
Sometime toward dawn, she dropped off to sleep, and when she awakened, Colt was gone. Maybe she had only dreamed she had spent the night in his arms, but then she saw the whiskey bottle on the dresser and knew he had been here.
She got up and looked around. There was no note, nothing to show that he cared or that she had been anything more than an eager vessel for his lust. Well, what had she expected? And how could she face him if she met him from now on?
Last night had made her situation even worse. She needed to get away from this fort because now that she knew what it was like to be in Colt's embrace, she couldn't bear to keep seeing him with Olivia on his arm. She'd have to make plans to leave, but how?
Little Travis came toddling in from his room and she leaned over and picked him up and hugged him. Her son needed her, the store needed her, and this morning, Doc's patients needed her. After that, she'd think about how she was going to leave and where she might go. She had to leave Colt while she could still force herself to do it.
Chapter 17
After she fixed breakfast for Travis, she took him with her and walked down to the infirmary to see how the wounded soldiers were faring.
A weary Doc met her as she came in. “The captain died during the night,” he said, “but the others seem to be better.”
She bit her lip, hoping he had died thinking he was back in Boston with the cool breezes of the Atlantic Ocean blowing on his fevered face. Even now, his aunt was on her way back to Massachusetts, not knowing her darling nephew lay dead in Texas.
“What can I do to help?” She put her son down on the floor to play.
“See if you can get some breakfast in them while I begin to change bandages.”
“Sure.” She left the door open to Doc's kitchen so she could watch her child playing as she made scrambled eggs and bacon. The eggs made her think about the farmer again. No doubt he could use a cook ... or a wife. That thought made her shudder. After being in Colt's arms, the thought of sleeping with any other man made her frown.
She took the food around to the grateful soldiers, and then she gathered up Travis and went to unlock and open the store.
Â
Colt woke up with a bad headache that felt like someone pounding a hammer on an iron anvil in a blacksmith's shop. He groaned and tried to remember yesterday. A flood of memories came back, most of which he'd just as soon forget. Some of them he knew he never could. He swung his legs off his bunk and sat up, his head pounding. He'd been so drunk that he couldn't remember a lot of what had happened.
Hannah. Abruptly he remembered being in her bed and in her arms, drunken and remorseful, haunted by what had happen on the patrol. Yet the one thing that he didn't want to forget was how tender she had been to him, how comforted he had felt in her arms. How could he face her today? What could he promise her? He'd behaved like a villain.
There was a knock at the door. He didn't answer it, but the knock was insistent. Cursing, he stumbled over and opened it to a short, thin private who saluted.
Colt returned the salute halfheartedly. “Yes?”
“Begging your pardon, sir, but Miss Murphy requests that you join her and her father for breakfast this morning.”
Colt almost moaned aloud. He didn't feel like eating anything, much less making small talk with the senior officer and Olivia. “Tell them I'm indisposed.”
“Sir, I've been told not to take no for an answer. The major insists.”
He'd have to go. Colt waved the boy away. “Tell them I'll be there in a few minutes.”
He slammed the door and went to the washbowl, poured a pitcher of cold water over his head, then plunged his face in the bowl. It only helped a little. Then he stumbled over and looked in the cracked mirror over the dresser. He looked like death warmed over. His head pounded hard, but he had to get himself presentable and show up. What the hell could this be about?
A few minutes later, looking as presentable as he could, he walked to the major's office. The bright sun made his head hurt worse. He squinted against the light and thought he saw Hannah crossing from her cabin to the store, but she either didn't see him or didn't acknowledge him. Well, he couldn't blame her. He had taken advantage of her kindness and warmth last night without offering her any promises in return. He was a bit angry with her for the obligation he now felt.
Colt knocked on the door and took off his hat as Olivia opened it.
She wore a fine lavender dressing gown. “Come in, Colton, dear, we've readied a fine breakfast for the hero.”
He came inside. She had set up a dainty table in the office and there was everything imaginable to eat, steak and fried potatoes, a Mexican omelet, a plate of rare strawberries. The sight of all that food made his stomach roil. He saluted the major and swallowed hard.
“Oh, come now, my boy, let's not be formal. This is a friendly breakfast, not army business.”
Olivia directed him toward a chair. “Dear, would you like some coffee?”
“Yes, coffee sounds good.”
The major looked at him critically “I think like me, you might like a bit of picker-up in your coffee?”
Colt gave him a grateful smile. “That sounds even better.”
“Oh, you men and your liquor.” Olivia pouted prettily and sat down while waving to her maid, who came forward and poured cups of strong coffee, to which the major added some brandy.
Colt tasted it and sighed. It was strong and hot, and immediately, he felt better. “I'm sorry our patrol was such a defeat, sir.”
“Nonsense.” The major sipped his own coffee. “You ran into superior forces and got trapped.”
Colt didn't say anything and looked into his coffee cup instead. He didn't want to place blame on the badly wounded captain.
“I talked to Captain Van Smyth last night,” the major said. “He gave me a full report about how he erred by leading the patrol into the arroyo and that you had protested.”
Colt shrugged and sipped his coffee. “He was the superior officer and in charge.”
“He died early this morning,” the major said, “but not before he told me everything that happened. He said you were a hero and asked that you be given a battlefield promotion to captain.”
The captain was dead. Colt felt like he'd been hit hard in the stomach. The whole patrol had been useless and gotten some good men killed.
“Isn't that exciting?” Olivia clapped her hands in glee. “I can already imagine how handsome you'll look in a captain's uniform.”
“That was very generous of the captain.” Colt put his coffee down and took a deep breath. He hadn't liked the captain, but the man had behaved bravely the last few hours of his life. He didn't want to think about the battle; that made him think of Sarge. “IâI don't think I deserve praise, sir. All the men acted admirably. I'd like to request that the captain be awarded a medal for bravery.”
“That will be lovely.” Olivia smiled. “His aunt will be proud.”
Colt frowned at her. “The man is dead, Olivia. The army isn't about promotions and medals.”
Her eyebrows went up in shock. “Are you scolding little old me?”
Oh, God, he hoped she didn't cry. He shook his head. “Merely pointin' out the truth.”
“I know about the sergeant,” the major murmured and gave Colt a sympathetic look.
“What?” Olivia glanced up, but her father shook his head at her.
“It's nothing that would interest you, my dear.”
Colt played with the eggs on his plate to keep from looking at either one of them. “I don't know that I want or deserve the promotion,” he said.
“But of course you do!” Olivia exclaimed. “I can already see my brave soldier boy moving on up to major, and colonel and maybe even general. That uniform would look so impressive in Philadelphia.”
“Olivia,” Colt began, then stopped. His breakup with the major's daughter was a sensitive subject and the major might not know about it yet.
The major glanced at his daughter. “Olivia, dear, it looks like you've finished your breakfast. Why don't you and your maid run along so we men can talk?”
Olivia's pretty face broke into a pout. “But, Daddyâ”
“I think this is army business from here on out,” the major said.
Olivia got up from the table and left in an indignant swish of lavender satin. She slammed the door behind her as she went into their living quarters.
“Now,” said the major, “would you like more coffee?”
“Thank you, sir,” Colt said and the major poured him more and put another slug of liquor in it.
“You don't seem pleased over the promotion.” The major cut up his steak and began to eat.
“To be honest, sir, I haven't quite decided what I want to do. You know my enlistment is almost up.”
“Well, Olivia seemed to be sure you were planning on making the army a career.”
He couldn't call the major's daughter a liar, nor did he feel comfortable telling him the pair had broken up. It might be impossible to serve on this post and see her every day because it would be so awkward. His mind went to Hannah. Last night had complicated everything. “I haven't decided yet what I'm gonna do, Major.”
“Still?” The major smiled at him and leaned over to pat him on the shoulder. “I'll plan on the promotion ceremony for after you reenlist, and you give me your answer day after tomorrow, okay?”
He didn't answer, sensing the silent pressure. He felt suddenly hungry and attacked the steak and potatoes. “Might I ask if Miss Olivia is planning on stayin' at this fort?”
“I think she's bored here, but then my spoiled daughter is easily bored.” The major sighed. “If she wangles you a good position in Washington, D.C., being a captain will open a lot of doors for you, especially if we go to war.”
“Hmm.” Colt gave his attention to his food. Now he didn't know how he felt about anything. His good sense told him he was lucky the major's beautiful daughter wanted to marry him and take him far away from this hostile country where a man had to kill a friend as a mercy. He thought about Sarge and abruptly stopped eating.
“What's the matter?” the major asked.
“IâI'm not very hungry,” Colt said. “And I think I want to go see my men and how they are doin'.”
“Sure. That's just what I would expect from you.” The major smiled and patted Colt on the shoulder again.
Colt walked out into the blinding sunlight and down to the infirmary. His head still pounded and the light hurt his eyes as he entered. “Hello, Doc. How are the patients?”
“Good, although we lost Captain Van Smyth last night. It was amazing that you managed to get him back here alive, but he was too badly shot-up.” He wiped his bald head.
“I heard. I reckon we'll have a funeral today or tomorrow for him, poor devil.” Colt sighed.
“Oh, Hannah just came down and fixed the men some breakfast. She's such a thoughtful girl.”
“Isn't she though?” Colt remembered last night and how a warm, sympathetic woman had opened her arms and her bed to him. No doubt she had felt terribly sorry for him, that was all. He had acted like such a drunken fool. “I came to see the men.”
“Sure.” He led the way, and Colt went from bed to bed, shaking hands and thanking them for their service.
In turn, they thanked him for getting them out of the trap alive.
Colt felt awkward accepting their gratitude. He didn't feel like a hero, and he didn't tell them about the promised promotion. Afterward he went outside and sat down on the step, his hands shaking as he rolled a cigarette. He ought to say something to Hannah, but he wasn't sure what to say. Simply “I was a drunken, grief-stricken fool last night and thank you for taking me into your arms and your bed” didn't seem like the proper thing to say. He sat and smoked, unsure what to do.
It was almost noon now and he saw Hannah come out of the store, leading her little boy by the hand. She hesitated when she saw him as if waiting for him to make the first move, and he wasn't sure how. Instead, he nodded to her, and she returned the nod and went on. He wanted to get up and run after her, but he wasn't sure what he would say when he got there. She probably felt used and disappointed.
Anyway he had duties to perform and he went over to the stable to see what kind of shape the horses were in. Too bad he'd lost Rascal. He and the wiry mustang had been partners for many years.
However, even as he stood in the barn talking to a private, he heard a whinny and a bay mustang stuck its head around the door.
“Rascal?” He could hardly believe it as the small horse trotted up to him. It was Rascal all right because the horse nuzzled him affectionately and started sniffing him all over for apples and sugar cubes. Colt threw his arms around the mustang's neck and hugged him. “You little devil, how did you make it all the way back?”
The private grinned. “He sure looks glad to see you, sir.”
Colt examined the horse. He was thin and looked exhausted, but otherwise, in good shape. “Private, let's get him some oats and hay and some cool water. He'll be all right in a day or two.”
For the first time in days, Colt was actually smiling as he fed and brushed Rascal and left him in the care of the private. Then he went about his other duties.
That night, he decided he must go down and see Hannah and talk this out. However, just as he started out of his quarters in the cool dusk of evening, he was suddenly joined by Olivia. She wore a fine lavender dress and carried a matching parasol.
“There you are, Colton. I've been waiting for you to come out. Want to accompany me on a stroll?”
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