The Independent Bride (24 page)

“You spend a lot of time with him,” Moriah said.

“I don’t have much choice, things being in the muddle they are and neither one of us knowing how to get them straightened out.”

“I haven’t asked for his help.”

“You don’t want to stay here. Failure would give you a perfect excuse to go back to St. Louis.”

“I’ve made no secret of the fact that I dislike this place and think it’s unsuitable for decent females, but I don’t want to fail.”

Abby was surprised by her sister’s sudden show of feeling. It was unusual for Moriah to show any kind of deep emotion.

“I’m sorry. That was unfair of me. You work as hard as I do, but you got me upset with your remarks about Bryce.”

Moriah stirred the contents of a pot, then turned to Abby. “You act different when he’s around. I can see it in your eyes, in the way you suddenly become more energetic. I can even hear it in your voice.” She turned back to her cooking. “Dorrie was commenting on it just the other day.”

“If I act that way, I’m sure it’s only because I’m grateful he’s helping us. For goodness sake, Moriah, he’s given us carpenters to make this whole trading post over, detailed men to help us practically every day, and made it possible for us to get credit for the store. Not to mention letting us stay in his house until this place was fit to inhabit.”

“I haven’t forgotten any of that, and I’m grateful, but I don’t hang on his every word, nor do I look at him as if he’s the most wonderful man in the world.”

“Do I do that?” Abby asked, aghast.

“Yes.”

“You must be mistaken.”

“Ask Dorrie.”

“Dorrie sees romance every time one of the soldiers proposes to one of us. I’m sure our staying in Bryce’s house has her thinking we’re practically married already.”

“She was hoping the colonel would fall in love with you.”

“Why? She knows the kind of wife he wants. She’s the one who told us.”

“She says none of the officers want him to get that promotion. They say he runs the best fort in the West and takes the best care of his men. They’re afraid of getting someone like that Lieutenant Colonel George Custer they say is going to be court-martialed. He’s so awful his officers hate him, but General Sheridan likes him, so he can get away with anything.”

“Where did you hear all this?” Abby asked, amazed her sister knew anything outside of what they needed to restock the store shelves.

“I hear the men talking. They like to chat when they buy something to eat.”

Abby had instituted her idea of cooking for the soldiers. It kept them very busy, but the food was responsible for most of their profits so far.

“I asked Dorrie,” Moriah continued. “She said it was true.”

Abby could hardly believe her actions had become a topic of conversation at the fort. Even less could she understand why anyone thought she wanted to marry Bryce. Or that he would consider marrying her.

“You can tell them there’s no possibility Bryce will ask me to marry him. Or that I would accept if he did,” she hastened to add. “I’m sorry if they’re worried about getting a bad commander, but Bryce wanted to get a post back East before we arrived.”

“They were hoping you could change his mind.”

“Moriah,
you
aren’t hoping I’ll marry Bryce, are you?”

Moriah didn’t look up from her cooking. “I believed you when you said you didn’t want to get married. However, if you’ve changed your mind, and if we’re going to stay here, it would be much more comfortable if you married the colonel.”

“Moriah Evangeline Pierce!” Abby exclaimed. “I never thought I’d hear those words coming out of your mouth.”

Moriah stopped stirring her pot and looked at Abby. “It only makes sense, if you’re going to be married, to marry to your greatest advantage. And if you can never love any man, why does it matter whom you marry?”

Abby would never have believed Moriah would say such things if she hadn’t heard it for herself.

“First, I don’t love Bryce and he doesn’t love me. Second, I don’t want to get married. Third, he wants a society wife who can help him with his career. But assuming all that weren’t true, I would never marry a man I didn’t love. I can’t believe you’d think I would.”

“Dorrie says a woman has to think of her future.”

“This store is my future,” Abby said. She had become so agitated she didn’t feel tired any longer. “Move over. I’ll help with the cooking.”

But when Abby went to bed, she found being exhausted wasn’t enough to make her fall asleep. After lying awake for hours thinking about what Moriah had said, she gave up and got out of bed. She went into the parlor. Rather than light a lamp, she sat in the dark, staring out of the small window, trying to figure out her true feelings.

She was attracted to Bryce. She’d been surprised and dismayed at the strength of this attraction, but she hadn’t worried about it. She didn’t plan to marry and he would soon go back East. That would be the end of it. When she considered the matter in that light, it didn’t seem so momentous that she’d let Bryce hold her and kiss her, or that she’d enjoyed it and wanted more. She told herself she couldn’t control her body or the wishes of her silly heart, but she could control her actions. All that had changed now that she was the subject of gossip.

She moved resdessly about the room. Not yet familiar with the arrangement of the furniture, she bumped into a table, mumbled a curse that would have turned her Aunt Emma’s cheeks pink, but didn’t light a lamp. That would bring Moriah out of her room, and she was in no mood for company.

It was hard not to like Bryce, even if he had done his best to get her to go back to St. Louis. Maybe it was because he’d been willing to help whenever he could, had encouraged rather than belittled her efforts. Maybe it was because he’d actually been kind. He had expressed regret that she wouldn’t be staying in his house any longer. She suspected he was reluctant to go back to eating Zeb’s cooking, but he’d been kind enough to say he and Pamela were sorry to lose the pleasure of her company.

She plopped down on a lumpy sofa. She missed the pleasure of his company, too. Talking to Bryce provided her with something beyond the usual female subjects of households, husbands, and children to discuss. She supposed she would have felt different if she’d had a husband, a household, and children to worry about, but she didn’t, and right now such conversation made her unhappily aware of her loneliness. She liked her independence, but she was discovering it didn’t answer all her needs.

She didn’t understand that. She’d never felt lonely before. She’d always had Moriah, Aunt Emma, and plenty of friends. If the loneliness started after Albert’s defection or her father’s death, why should it have taken her so long to realize it? Did it have to do only with Bryce and Pamela—was something deep within her being nourished by them?

There were many things that didn’t make sense. Just seeing him made the day seem a little brighter. His smile or a few kind words had the power to make even the greatest fears or obstacles seem unimportant. Just being around him made her feel happier even when she was arguing with him. She thought of him a hundred times a day. He seemed a natural and permanent part of her life. She knew he said he was going back East, but somehow she’d managed to put that out of her mind.

All of this, even though she’d convinced herself she would never marry, that she didn’t want a husband, that she wanted to be independent, to have complete control of her life. Was she crazy? Didn’t she know she wanted it all?

She got up and started pacing again. Aunt Emma told her frequently that she couldn’t have her cake and eat it, too. The trouble was, she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to have her cake and be independent, or eat her cake and have a family. She’d been certain of what she wanted when she left St. Louis. Now she wasn’t so sure.

A great feeling of sadness swept over her, a feeling of loss. A hot anger at Albert. He’d caused her to lose her belief in love, her trust in men. He’d made it impossible for her to marry Bryce even if he asked her because she was filled with a terrible fear that any man she married would betray her love. If it happened a second time, it would destroy her. She couldn’t take the risk.

Abby suddenly became aware of small, scraping sounds. She’d assumed it was a mouse they hadn’t managed to trap. She’d been so deep in thought she hadn’t realized that it didn’t sound like a mouse. Someone was in the store. Abby wasn’t worried about her safety. The door into their quarters was stout and bolted shut, but they couldn’t afford to have anything stolen. Her impulse was to wake Moriah, but if there was danger, she didn’t want to expose her sister. If there wasn’t, there was no need to disturb her sleep.

Abby went to the gun rack and took down a small carbine. It was already loaded. Bryce had said an empty gun was no gun at all. Being careful to make no noise, she eased open the well-oiled bolt on the door, turned the handle, and opened the door a crack.

At first she saw only the shadowy interior lit by moonlight coming through the barred windows, but she could definitely hear movement. She couldn’t see anyone, but she knew someone was there. It was impossible to light a lamp. She didn’t have enough hands. Besides, the lamp would blind her to any movement in the shadows while making her whereabouts plain to the thief. Neither could she call for help without giving him a chance to get away. She had only one choice.

“I know you’re in there,” she said. “I’ve got a rifle. Light the lamp so I can see you.”

The room exploded with the sound of a pistol shot in close quarters, the sound of a bullet burying itself in the wood of the thick door. Afterward Abby could never understand why she’d remained so calm. Remembering what Bryce had said, she aimed her rifle at the spot where she’d seen the flash of the pistol and pulled the trigger. She was rewarded by a scream of agony and the sound of a body falling against one of the counters.

Chapter Fifteen

Bryce had been restless all evening. Unable to stay cooped up inside, he was on the porch when he heard the first muffled shot. His first thought was that someone had accidentally discharged a weapon inside one of the barracks. He had gotten to his feet when he heard the second shot. One shot could be accidental; two couldn’t. He knew exactly where the sounds had come from.

The trading post.

Abby and Moriah were alone. He raced inside, grabbed his pistol holster, and was outside running across the parade ground within seconds. The ground seemed much too small when he drilled his troops, especially the cavalry unit, but tonight it seemed a mile across. The trading post had been built on the perimeter across the fort from the army buildings because it was used by civilians, and Bryce needed to keep intrusive traffic to a minimum. Tonight he wished he’d done just the opposite. Before he reached the trading post, he saw lights come on in barracks and officers’ houses.

The door to the trading post was unlocked. Bryce rushed in to see Abby holding a lantern, looking at something on the floor. Moriah stood next to her sister, her arms around her shoulders. A carbine rifle lay across the counter next to her.

“What happened?” he asked. “Who fired those shots?”

Abby looked up, her face ravaged by horror. “I killed a man,” she said. “I killed a man,” she repeated, as though the reality had not yet sunk in.

“What man? Where?”

“Bill Spicer,” Moriah said, pointing to an area of the floor out of Bryce’s range of vision. “He broke in and Abby shot him.”

“I didn’t mean to kill him,” Abby said. She appeared to be in shock.

Bryce holstered his pistol and rounded the counter blocking his view. Bill Spicer lay on the floor, a bullet hole right where his heart would be. A pistol lay on the floor nearby.

“What was he doing here?” Bryce asked.

”Trying to rob the store, I expect,” Moriah said.

Lieutenant Collier entered the store at a run. “What happened?”

“Miss Pierce shot a thief,” Bryce said, indicating Spicer’s body.

“I heard two shots,” Collier said. “Was one Spicer’s?”

“The first one,” Abby said. “It struck the door.” She didn’t appear to have the energy to point out the hole, with the bullet still buried in it.

“He must have been a bad shot,” Collier said, “with you standing in the doorway with the light behind you.”

“I didn’t light the lamp,” Abby said. “I knew it would blind me.”

“You mean you did this in the dark?” Collier asked in amazement. “Damned fine shooting. Remind me to knock next time I want a new pair of socks.” More soldiers poured into the store.

“Have the men remove the body,” Bryce said to Collier. “We can turn it over to the civil authorities tomorrow.” He crossed to Abby’s side. “How are you feeling?”

“She’s feeling shocked and stunned,” Moriah snapped. “How would you feel if you’d been shot at? I forget,” she said, before Bryce could answer, “you get shot at all the time. I don’t imagine it bothers you, but it’s never happened to my sister before. As for killing a man—”

“There’s no reason to be angry at Bryce,” Abby managed to say.

“I’m sure you were hoping only to scare him off.” Bryce put his arm around Abby. “You need to sit down. Maybe your sister will fix you some hot milk.”