The Officer and the Southerner (Historical Western Romance) (Fort Gibson Officers Series, Book 2) (5 page)

“Could you uh...”

Ella shook her head and reached into his pocket to retrieve the brass key Gray had given him. Then without hesitation, she opened the door and walked right inside, heedless to his inability to enter without dropping something.

The faded and threadbare green curtains on the far wall were open in the middle, revealing a room with only the necessary items: a four-drawer bureau, a table with two chairs, a tall, open rack with four shelves, a fireplace, a chest and the most basic of things: an unembellished, simple bed that appeared twice as wide as the one downstairs.

“
Oh look, Jack, perhaps you and your friends can move into this room and all four of you can share the bed.” The words were out before she could think better of it, and the blank look on his face made her want to laugh. She shook her head and dropped her gaze to where her chests were lined up and stacked just inside the door, her soft-sided traveling bags on top of the bed.

“
I know it seems barren right now,” Jack said, pushing into the room. “But I’ve been saving a bit of money each month for you to decorate it however you wish. Within reason, of course.”

“
Of course.” She offered him a slight smile. It was the best she could do, considering how hurt she still felt about being led here by lies and snared by her own pride.

As if to show her that they weren’t completely without amenities, he placed his clothes in the first drawer of the bureau, then opened the oak chest that resided at the end of the bed. He sank to his haunches and pulled out a variety of items: tin plates and cups, silver to eat with, a plain basin and mismatched pitcher, and most notably, a chamberpot.

She released a breath she didn’t know she was holding when he set it down. At least she wouldn’t have to go outside to tend to her needs.

Jack chuckled at her reaction, then went to putting things where he thought they might belong. “If you’ll give me a list of what all you think we’ll need, I can see what Charles has in his store tomorrow.”

She narrowed her eyes on him. “Is there a reason you’re volunteering to go? Isn’t it the woman’s duty to shop for the household?”

He didn’t stop or hesitate. “If you’d like to go, I’ll go with you. But it’s probably best you don’t go alone.”

She sighed and twisted her lips. Of course. He must either think of her as a docile creature incapable of anything or be worried she’d discover something else unsavory about him while shopping. She closed her eyes against the tears that welled there and busied herself by unpacking one of her traveling bags.

This is what you wanted. To start over with a man who wants
you
.
She blinked her eyes and rummaged through her bag.
But this man doesn’t want me
, she argued with herself. He wanted a wife, but not
her.
She shifted and removed a small leather bag from her traveling bag. In this bag, she kept her most needed items: hairbrush, comb, hand mirror and other grooming necessities. She pulled them out and fingered the intricate designs on the handles. Slowly, she walked them over to the bureau and placed them in a neat little row along the right side, ignoring the two warm tears that had escaped from her eyes and were blazing a path down her cheeks. Not wanting to bring attention to herself, she refused to sniffle but used the back of her hand to wipe her eyes and under her nose. It wasn’t ladylike, to be sure, but it was better than showing weakness.

She pulled a few more items from her bag and mindlessly shifted her weight, allowing her left leg to touch her right. She stilled. She’d been denying scratching this persistent itch practically since she’d climbed into the stage to leave Fort Smith. Biting her lip, she allowed herself to finally “scratch” the itch as best she could, using her left leg to rub that itchy spot on her right. Doing so provided temporary relief from the pain Jack had caused but brought another kind of pain: a physical type. Drat it all, she’d been too vigorous and now her leg was tender—and still itchy.

Sighing with frustration, she grabbed the small jewelry box she’d brought with her and set it down on the bureau with more force than was necessary.

Jack jerked his head around to face her. “Is something wrong?”

She wanted to laugh and almost did, as the crushing weight of the situation she now found herself in threatened to overtake her. “Just a lot to do, that’s all.”

Jack set the stack of plates he was holding down on the table and walked over to her. Catching her hands in his, he startled her but certainly gained her attention. “Not everything needs to be done tonight, Ella. We have plenty of time. Why don’t you just sit and—”

A loud horn sounded and a giant grin came over Jack’s face.

“
Come. It’s dinnertime.”

She swallowed. “Dinner?” She didn’t know whether to be relieved that she wasn’t expected to cook on top of everything else or disappointed that all of her plans and expectations of being the one to cook his dinners were dashed in one blow.

Disgust, however, became the emotion of choice when she laid eyes on the bloody chunk of white laced meat set down in front of her.

Much to the amusement of the others at the table with her, she gulped down the bile that had risen in her throat. Beef or pork, she didn’t know, but whatever that was on the plate was
not
suitable for consumption.

“
Smart man,” a man who Ella didn’t even want to look at commented from across the table with a chuckle.

Jack didn’t acknowledge the man but began sawing on the chunk of flesh in front of him.

Nausea overwhelmed her at the sight—and smell.

“
Mmmm, beefsteak,” another man commented, licking his lips with his thick, purple tongue.

Ella shuddered and looked back to Jack, who showed no signs of distress or overexcitement at eating his dinner.

“Eat,” he said softly.

“
I can’t.”

He set his fork down and looked at her, his dark eyes full of questions and concern. “Is there something not to your liking?”

“Yes. This.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “I’m sorry. I know you said that you could cook, but I didn’t think you’d want to your first night...”

Ella stared at him. Was he
trying
to bait her and get her to agree to cook for him by bringing her here to witness this atrocious meal or was he being genuine? Though she longed to believe the latter, with how the day’s events had unfolded so far, she was more inclined to believe the former.

Hurt and indignation swelled in her breast. “Perhaps if you’d just asked, I’d have made you a meal.”

An irritated expression came over his face, but he didn’t speak.

Not that he needed to, for someone else took the chance to chime in. “I do believe you found a good one, Lieutenant Walker,” the man with light brown hair and light blue eyes said with a whistle. “It took nearly a week of Wes bringing Allison to the trough for her to finally decide to start cooking for him.”

“Shut up, McCorkle,” Jack barked.

Ella’s face heated. Just as she’d suspected, this was another way she’d been used. Not that she’d expected him to have someone to cook for them, because she hadn’t. He’d made it clear in his letters he was looking for someone to cook and do other woman’s work, and she was more than content to do that. But, he could have just asked. Parading her down here in front of his friends and giving her a taste of what they’d eat otherwise, wasn’t a very endearing—nor mature—way of going about what he wanted.

That’s fine. She’d show him she had more meddle than he gave her credit for. “Actually, I was surprised to see this. My father was a general and would ask Ma to make this from time to time.”

All the eyes of the men at the table shot to her as if in anticipation of what she’d do next.

That was fine with her. She had no problem being watched if they wanted to do so. Breathing deeply through her parted lips, she picked up her fork and knife, cut off the corner of the ‘beefsteak’ closest to her, and ate it with the slowness of a true southern belle.

No one said anything as she ate the entire enormous chunk on the plate before her. Jack’s broad grin grew. “You’re right, boys. I certainly have one worth keeping.”

Ella placed her fork down and tried to keep from glaring at him. How convenient that he’d taken advantage of the situation and made it seem as though he’d unearthed the rarest of diamonds.

“
Are you ready to empty your pockets again tonight, McCorkle?” Jack asked, picking up his tin cup then draining the contents.

“
You’re not going to beat me again,” McCorkle said a bit defensively.

Jack chuckled and winked at Ella, stirring feelings she didn’t quite understand, so she turned her head and chose to ignore him. “Do you gamble much, Ella?”

“No.”

“
Well, now’s a good time to learn.” Jack shot a scowl to a grinning McCorkle.

“
You intend to teach your new bride to gamble?” Wes asked, coming up behind them.

Jack shrugged. “Unlike you, I have a bit of an imagination when it comes to courting, Wes.”

“And teaching her to gamble is what you’d consider a fitting activity for your wedding night?” Wes continued.

Jack’s face flushed bright red, just as she imagined hers was doing; but she wasn’t inclined to correct Wes’ ideas of what she and Jack
should
be doing tonight due to their new understanding. Judging by Jack’s set jaw, he didn’t seem too excited at the prospect of the entire room knowing, either.

Jack opened his mouth to say something he probably thought might defuse the situation, though she doubted it would, but was stopped when McCorkle chuckled and said, “Good thing you found her before Gray. He’d know what to—”
Crack!

Jack idly rubbed the row of knuckles that had just collided with McCorkle’s jaw. “Be mindful of what you say about my wife.” he barked.

Ella tore her eyes away from the pair, glanced around the table and frowned. “Where is Gray?”

“
Resting,” Jack said, his eyes searching hers.

“
Resting?” she echoed, confused.

“
Now that Jack here is married, he doesn’t have watchtower duties anymore,” the officer on the opposite side of her explained.

“
Watchtower duties?” She remembered seeing those tall buildings on the four corners of the barracks and understanding dawned. “Is part of your job to stand guard in the watchtower at night?”

A slow smile came over Jack’s face, almost as if he thought he was about to charm her. “From time to time.”

“Ah huh, and is tonight one of those times?”

He shook his head. “No, my dear. Tonight—and every night for the rest of my life—all I have to stand guard over is you.”

“But tonight
was
your night?” she asked for clarification.

He frowned. “Well, yes, but it’s hard to protect you and keep you safe while I’m in the tower.”

She stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate.

He returned her stare but said nothing.

Unable to bear his company or that of his friends, who all seemed to know and understand better than she did that he’d married her only to improve his life at the fort, she abruptly stood, her chair screeching and tottering from her jerky movements. Wordlessly, she tossed her napkin onto her plate and did her best to keep as much of her dignity as possible as she fled the room.

This was too much. All he cared about was himself and the benefits this marriage would bring him. She knew a wife was to cook and care for her husband, but Jack took things too far. He wanted her because of the high regard, and dare she admit jealousy, having her as a wife would stir among his men; and worst of all, he needed her for the changes her presence would bring to his living conditions.

“Ella, stop,” Jack called, catching her arm just above the elbow. His dark brown eyes were wide almost as if he were uncertain or
innocent
.

She wanted to laugh at that notion. Not only was Michaela right about him being a master manipulator with words, he was the best actor she’d ever seen. She willed her tears to stop. Tears didn’t do her or anyone else any good.

“Where are you going?” he asked, releasing his hold on her arm.

“
I don’t feel very well,” she blurted, surprising herself at the truth of her statement. That “beefsteak” was the most revolting thing she’d ingested. Ever. Just thinking about it made her stomach churn.

He nodded thoughtfully. “Food around here can have that effect on a man—or a woman—at first.” A slow smile spread his lips. “Let’s go back to our room.”

A sudden wave of nerves washed over her. “You do mean to keep your earlier promise, don’t you?”

“
Yes. We’ll play cards. Nothing more.”

~Chapter Seven~

Something had clearly upset his new bride, but for the life of him, Jack couldn’t place what it was. He’d give credit to her reason for leaving the dining room. The food was abominable. It took him nearly two months to be able to choke it down without starving himself first. But the food wasn’t it. There was something more, and he’d be damned if he knew what it was.

Jack pulled out a chair at the table for Ella. “What games do you like to play?”

“The counting game.”

He wanted to groan. Many parents gave their children cards only to help them learn to count. Count the hearts. Count the spades. He didn’t much care for that and knew better than to believe at twenty that she’d care much to play a game that involved looking through the cards and counting the pictures on them. “How about we play a type of counting game?”

“All right.”

Jack grabbed his deck of cards from the bureau and shuffled. “The game is twenty-one and the object is to—”

“Get exactly twenty-one,” she said with a slim smile, “or as close as you can without going over.”

He paused. “You’ve played.”

Ella’s smile grew decidedly more genuine. “A few times.”

“
Is this the counting game you were referring to?”

“
Yes.”

Jack dealt the cards, one up, one down, and then they both took a moment to look at what they had. He didn’t know her bottom card, of course, but her top card was a ten of diamonds. His bottom card was a Queen and his top card was a nine.

“Hit me,” she said.

Jack dealt her another card and wanted to wince when he saw her next card was a King. He couldn’t hope for much better than a nineteen and flipped his cards to show her, expecting she’d gone over twenty one.

She flipped her card. An ace.

“
You win!” he burst out, partially in shock at her winning and partially genuinely happy she’d won the hand.

“
I know,” she chirped with a quick grin that caused a tendril of desire to coil in his stomach, then picked up the cards. “I’ll deal this time.”

He sat back and watched her from under his lowered lashes as she dealt. She was a pretty young woman. Long dark hair and tanned skin. Her hands were thin and delicate, but not frail and weak. Her stature and grin spoke of an inner strength most probably didn’t think she had. Perhaps his understanding of it was connected to the way she’d stood up to him earlier and had the gall to ask for time to get to know him before intimacies. She might not think it unrealistic to ask for such a reprieve, but he did. Not that he’d met too many other mail order brides (or their bridegrooms) to ask, but he’d assumed a wedding night was expected just as it was for a wedding that took a year to plan.

It didn’t matter. He’d do things her way. He’d court and woo her until she felt comfortable with him.

She won that hand.

Then the next.

And then the one after that.

“Would you like to play something else?”

She flashed him another of her blinding grins. “No. I rather like this.”

“Of course you do, you minx. You’re rather good.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know if I’d say that. It’s more luck than skill, I think.”

Jack dealt this hand. “Then I shall certainly have to take you downstairs to the lounge when you’re feeling better.”

Ella’s grin faltered as she reached for her cards. “Hit me.”

Jack started at the sudden roughness in her tone. Where had that come from?

“
Another card, if you please.”

“
Right.” He gave her another card, and then at her direction, he gave her another. He lifted his eyebrows at her. She had a four, a two and a seven exposed. She had to have an eight or lower facing the table to not go over twenty-one. “Would you like another?”

She shook her head.

Jack twisted his lips. He had a Jack facing the table and a Queen on top. He flipped his cards over and waited for her to do the same.

“
I’m over.” She flipped her card, revealing a ten. “The seven was too high.”

“
Finally!” Jack picked up their cards and began shuffling them.

“
If it’s all right with you, I’d like to go to bed now.”

Jack stilled. Bed? The sun wouldn’t set for another hour and a half. “Is something wrong?”

She stood and ran a hand over her skirt, straightening it. “Just tired.”

He nodded. She was lying. Something he didn’t understand had just happened that made her go cold toward him again and he knew better than to believe it was because she’d lost the hand. There was something different about her eyes. They’d lost the spark they’d had but a few moments ago. “All right.” He put the cards into a neat stack then bound them together with a string. He tossed the cards back into his drawer then reached for the metal pail that he’d found in the chest at the end of their bed earlier. “I’ll go get us some water from the well if you’d like to get ready for bed.”

She nodded but didn’t speak.

Fortunately, the well was just down the stairs and about ten feet away. Any further than that, and Jack would have insisted that Ella go with him. Fort Gibson was a rough place. Secluded as it was, it took months to get proper supplies. The closest groups around were Indians. Indians who weren’t exactly content with the United States government at that. Following forced removal, Fort Gibson had been established to help keep the peace between the tribes and anyone who dared travel by. Unfortunately, the circumstances created a gathering place for the degenerates of the Army. Many men here formed addictions to the bottle or a fondness for violence. With so few women passing through, many of the men were so desperate for a woman’s embrace they didn’t care the cost at which they got it.

Jack’s gut clenched. Perhaps Wes and Gray had been right and it was foolish that he’d brought Ella here. He swallowed the bitter thought. It was too late for that now. He’d already acted and she was here—something he’d never wish to change. His job now was to protect her. But did she want to be here?

She hadn’t seemed very happy with him when she’d first learned he didn’t have a house of his own and she would have to live in a small room in a “glorified boardinghouse,” as she put it. Something at dinner had also upset her. Exactly what it was, he didn’t know, but it happened just after mentioning the watchtower. Then again, she’d gone cold when he’d mentioned taking her to play cards with his friends once she was well.

He shook his head and headed back to his room. She hadn’t seemed so temperamental in her letters. She’d seemed...fun and enthusiastic. Not to mention witty and full of excitement. She was tired, he reminded himself. She’d traveled from the far stretches of the country to get here in a journey that took more than two weeks. When his mother came home from her travels, she was often tired, too. He’d have to be patient with her.

Sighing, he opened the door and froze.

There, in the middle of the bed—his bed—was Ella, tucked up under the covers that reached just below her chin, with her head on the pillow and facing away from the window, her fisted hand settled up by her lips.

He set the pail down and closed the door. She looked as if she was sleeping, but just to be sure, he whispered her name.

She didn’t respond.

Wordlessly, he undressed and slipped into the bed beside her, frowning. She was still wearing her gown. He whispered her name again, and she didn’t respond.

He repositioned himself onto his side and reached up to brush the hair away from her face, his frown deepening when his fingertips skimmed her damp cheek.

Tomorrow, he vowed to himself. Tomorrow, he’d get his answers. For now, he’d let her sleep and regain her good humor. Even he had enough sense to know that an angry Cherokee was preferable to the wrath of an angry woman awakened from her slumber.