The Major's Wife

When she lifted her gaze, the explanation died in her throat and her feet grew roots. There was a tightness in his jaw, and she could feel his contempt. Tugging her feet off the walkway, and praying she wouldn’t stumble, for there was no excuse now that she was no longer wearing the off-kilter boots, Millie dipped her head and moved forward.

She’d barely stepped inside the cabin when a clanging noise echoed through the open courtyard.

“It’s lunchtime,” Seth said. “Are you hungry?”

Five days of beans—the thought was still horrifying—blasted into her mind like a storm. Men could release the pressure beans produced, but women couldn’t, and most certainly never in mixed company. She’d requested to sit in the back of the wagon for fear she’d burst at times, and the thought of eating beans again today was deplorable. But so was the confrontation about to take place—it was right under the surface. She could tell he was ready to claim once again that she wasn’t Rosemary.

He was probably going to say her sister would never have made the wagon trip—or half the train rides. She’d have returned to Richmond long before crossing the Mississippi. He’d be right, of course. But Millie hadn’t had the choice of not coming—nor of leaving.

“As a matter of fact, I am hungry,” she said, setting the bag down on one of her trunks.

Once again the thought of Rosemary doing what their mother had done made Millie’s insides quiver. The housekeeper, Lola, insisted she mustn’t blame herself. Millie tried not to, but when you’re responsible, you carry blame. Forever. Papa had always feared the same thing—that Rosemary would do what Mother had done—and Millie had never told him how close Rosemary had come once. She’d never told anyone. Martin knew. He’d been the one who saved Rosemary’s life, but he’d thought she’d fallen into the river.

The weight in Millie’s chest grew immense. Lola had vowed no such thing would happen while Millie was gone, and if anyone could make Rosemary behave it was their loyal, watchful housekeeper. Remembering that gave her fortitude. If Lola could handle Rosemary, surely Millie could handle Seth. After five years postponing the divorce, an additional three months couldn’t be that difficult.

“Shall we go then?”

Dropped back to earth like a peach falling from a tree, Millie paused mentally, gathering her wits. “Yes, lunch,” she mumbled, mainly to herself. Food probably wouldn’t help, but not being alone with him would. Her nerves were too jumbled for her to think straight right now.

Millie didn’t attempt to concentrate on becoming Rosemary during the short walk across the compound. She was too focused on keeping up with Seth’s long strides. Once they entered the building a man as large as a bear, with hair as yellow as corn, met them at the door.

“Mrs. Parker,” he said, dipping his head. “My name’s Briggs Ryan. Private Cutter said you like tea, no?”

“Yes, yes, I like tea,” she responded.

“Good. Ja, I have some for you. This way.”

As wonderful as the tea sounded, she couldn’t help but pause at the way Seth stiffened at her side. He didn’t take a step to follow the man, so she didn’t, either.

“I set a table for you and your wife, Major,” the man said, “as usual when we have company.”

There appeared to be some kind of showdown between the two, and Millie had to believe she was the cause of it. “I’m not really company,” she said, hoping to ease the tension.

Neither man spoke, but after another quiet moment, Seth nodded his head slightly. He then took ahold of her elbow and led her across the room, following Briggs Ryan.

The large room was crowded, but almost silent now as they made their way to the table. All men, dressed in their blue uniforms. Some were sitting at the long tables flanked with benches, others standing in line, filling their plates from huge platters set out on a high counter.

Mr. Ryan held a chair and she sat. The table was small and set for two, complete with a tablecloth and napkins.

“I’ll have your plates out in a minute and your tea, ma’am,” Mr. Ryan said before walking away. He, too, was wearing a uniform, but it was covered with a long white apron.

“Is Mr. Ryan the cook?”

“Yes,” Seth answered. “Keeping the unit fed is his job.”

The words seemed to hold a double meaning, but it was beyond her to understand exactly what. The man was back within minutes, placing a teapot and two plates of food—stew, not beans—in front of them.

The tea was refreshing, but it didn’t help as much as she’d hoped. Perhaps because the room held a thick silence, one that had her wondering if being alone with Seth would be better.

They, too, ate in silence, and though he didn’t gobble his food, Seth was done long before she was. At which point he pushed away from the table. “I have work to see to. I assume you can find your way back to the cabin.”

After patting her lips, she laid her napkin on the table. “I’m finished, too. May I walk out with you?”

He eyed her slowly, then gave a slight shrug. “If you want.”

She wanted, all right. The eyes staring their way had burned holes in the back of her dress. It was to be expected, her showing up out of the blue like this, yet she couldn’t help but wish things were different. That animosity didn’t ooze off of Seth.

Mr. Ryan met them at the door again. “The food was to your liking, no?”

“Oh, yes,” she assured him. “The stew was delicious. And the tea wonderful. Thank you, Mr. Ryan.”

The man grinned, but his smile faded as he glanced toward Seth.

“I’ll talk to you later, Sergeant,” Seth said.

“Yes, sir, Major, sir.”

Needing fresh air, Millie bolted out the door as soon as Seth opened it. How was she ever going to pull this off? Someone that stern, that commanding, was sure to know a lie when he heard one.

You catch a lot more bees with honey than vinegar. One of Lola’s sayings raced through her mind, and Millie couldn’t help but wonder why that one came to her now. Rosemary wasn’t known for her kindness. Then again, the saying did produce another thought. “You know, Seth,” she said, forcing her voice not to tremble, “it’s been five years. People change.”

“I haven’t,” he said.

“I’m sure you have in some ways,” she insisted, while keeping up with his fast strides again. “I know I have.” That much was the truth. Five years ago she’d never have done this: traveled to Indian Territory, taken on her sister’s identity, lied. Papa would have been alive and he wouldn’t have let her.

Seth stopped and once again studied her thoroughly. “So much that I should believe you’re Rosemary and not Millie?”

She sighed heavily, partly because lying made her feel more soiled than her travels had. “I am Rosemary.”

Seth wasn’t exactly sure how to respond. In some ways he couldn’t think. He hadn’t gotten over how a bath had transformed her into a stunningly beautiful woman, and it didn’t help that the men—his men—were already treating her like royalty. It was how he’d expect them to treat his wife, but she wasn’t his wife. Leastwise he didn’t want her to be. Never had. She’d already instigated the first-ever clash of power between him and Briggs Ryan. The cook was right. Guests, moreover women, were respected at all times at the fort, and held in the highest esteem. Making her eat at the long tables wouldn’t have been right, but Seth was in charge here, and his orders had to be followed.

Not that Briggs had disobeyed any, but he’d come close, and Seth didn’t allow any man to challenge his authority.

This time, he’d thank the man for seeing to Millie’s comforts. For that’s who she was, and what Briggs had done wasn’t out of line. Anger had overruled Seth’s own manners, but Briggs had to know he was walking a thin line. It had to be that way. If not, the entire regiment wouldn’t have lived through the past few years. Now wasn’t the time to let their guard down.

Especially not Seth.

As the thoughts conformed in his mind, and settled, his gaze roamed. Men, mingling in the courtyard, were moving closer, hoping for an introduction, no doubt. He’d have to make them, and take her over to headquarters to meet Jasper Ketchum—his second in command—and Jasper’s wife, Ilene.

Seth’s temper once again flared. He’d have to introduce her as Rosemary. Explaining his marriage had caused enough confusion. Introducing her now as Millie would have the questions deepening, and that couldn’t happen. People would wonder if he was capable of commanding a fort when he couldn’t handle his own life.

“Seth?”

Her whisper was soft, but the hand she’d laid on his arm bit through his coat and shirtsleeve, hotter than the fangs of a snake. Yet the anxiety filling her big brown eyes had his insides colliding. Whether he wanted her here or not wasn’t the issue. She was here and he had to offer his protection.

With that, he reached over and patted her hand. The action had him smothering a curse. He didn’t want to care about her, but he did care about his men. They looked at him for leadership, and true leaders did whatever it took. Nodding at the first man in line, he then glanced her way. “Rosemary...” Saying the name had disorder leaping inside him. “This is Quartermaster Josiah Fallon.” Turning toward the man, he said, “Josiah, this is Rosemary Parker, my wife.”

The word tasted bitter, and her fingertips dug deeper into his arm.