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Authors: Darlene Franklin

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BOOK: Calico Brides
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Annie flashed a grin at him and called through the doorway. “Mama, I’m home, and I brought company.”

“Come on in.”

Jeremiah followed Annie through the door and spotted a woman who must be her mother. Aside from the silver mixed in among her golden strands, they shared the same wide smile and merry blue eyes. Her gaze took in his uniform. “Lieutenant, welcome to our house.”

At her word, his shoulders straightened and his back stiffened as if at attention. His one vanity was the success he had made in the army. It was one of the reasons he kept reenlisting, although that decision was looming again before the end of the summer. He was impressed that Mrs. Bliss could differentiate the various ranks in the cavalry. Maybe her son’s service had prompted her recognition of his insignia.

“Mrs. Bliss, it is my pleasure.”

Annie bustled around the kitchen. Without any verbal communication, he found himself at the table with two thick slabs of bread and butter and fresh-brewed coffee. Better than anything Shorty the cook had served in the canteen anytime recently. Mrs. Bliss added both sugar and milk to her coffee, took a sip, then turned her pleasant face in his direction. “So what do you think of Annie’s idea? Do the men need socks and mittens and such?”

Jeremiah wished he could say no. That would alleviate the problems presented by Annie and her winsome ways. Half the young men in the regiment would vie for her attention, and the other half would wish they could.

But every winter he heard grumbling among the men about the bone-crunching cold of Kansas winters. More than that, Jeremiah saw God’s hand in Annie’s mission. He wouldn’t say no to God, not even when a woman was involved. “The men will welcome the knitted items. Even now, in April, we get an occasional cold spell. My greatest concern is for your daughter’s safety.”

“I can’t think of a safer place for my daughter than among the men sworn to protect our country.” Mrs. Bliss smiled.

As if wondering where the food had gone, he stared at the empty plate before him. Annie whisked it away and returned with a slice of dried apple pie with a wedge of cheese, as well as the coffeepot. She topped off his cup before sitting again, this time with paper and pencil in hand. She looked at him expectantly. “How many soldiers are at the fort?”

Jeremiah calculated the answer. The number varied on a monthly, if not weekly, basis. “The number of officers is fairly stable. In addition to Captain Peate and myself, there’s one more lieutenant and eight sergeants. A couple of them are married.” If he could limit her mission to the officers, perhaps no harm would result from her interference.

“I discussed that with Mrs. Peate. She suggested I make sets for everyone—maybe even for the wives themselves. I need an exact number of the soldiers and their wives.”

Cornered, Jeremiah gave her the total.

Annie jotted the numbers down. “Mr. Finnegan—the owner of the mercantile—has ordered extra yarn.” She turned her hand over, palm up, and studied it. “The men’s hands will be larger than mine, of course. Is anyone an unusual size? Any six-fingered hands?” She grinned at her own joke.

The conversation continued in much the same vein, her questions stretching Jeremiah’s knowledge of the men under his care. By the time the interview ended, Mrs. Bliss had refilled his plate twice more, once with a ham sandwich, and again with a bowl of bacon-flavored green beans. When she gave him corn bread fresh from the oven, he raised his hand in protest. He was already full enough that he would battle drowsiness during his evening duties.

Annie frowned at her notepaper. She made a few more calculations and set the pencil down. “I have all the information I need. I should have a good start within ten days. When would you like for me to return to the fort?”

“That’s not wise.” Jeremiah knew his refusal sounded harsh, but he would not tempt his men, nor would he put Annie in harm’s way. “It would be best if someone from the fort comes here to get them.” Like the next time Mrs. Peate came to town for her shopping.

“Lovely.” Mrs. Bliss answered instead of Annie. “Plan on taking your lunch with us on Tuesday next.”

Not me again
. But to refuse the invitation would be rude. “I, uh, will of course let you know if anything comes up to prevent my return.” He would prefer a gunfight to facing down two such charming ladies. History had proven his weakness when it came to women.

From her spot at the window, Annie watched Jeremiah’s back until horse and rider disappeared from view. He confused her more than any man she had ever met. At times he was as grouchy as a bear intent on finding food. Other times she glimpsed a cuddly cub that was hurting and wanted his mother.

Children ran and skipped down the street. Where had the day fled that school had already dismissed? With a sigh, she turned back in her mother’s direction. “Do you need help with supper?”

“No, go ahead and get started on your knitting.” Her mother shooed her out of the kitchen.

Annie took a skein of navy blue yarn and cast stitches onto the needles. Three rows later she realized she had miscounted the first row, and she unraveled everything back to the first knot.

Her mother joined her in the parlor and pinned her with one of those looks. “So…tell me.”

Annie tucked her tongue in her cheek while she finished counting the row. Once again she had miscalculated the number of stitches. She pulled them off the needle with a savage yank. The story about the conversation between the laundress and the “Bear” poured out of her. “I can’t decide whether he’s a bear waking up from his winter’s nap or a bear cub that’s, well…” Heat rushed to her face.

“As cute as a baby kitten?” Mama’s voice held a hint of laughter. “He’s probably both. No one is all good or bad all the time.”

“Not even Pa?” Annie dared to ask.

A faraway look swept across her mother’s face. “You wouldn’t know it to see him now, but he was as rough as a man can be who has spent most of his life only among other men.” Mama picked up one of the boys’ trousers for mending. “And we’ve both heard how grouchy Norman Keller was the first time Gladys visited. Now he’s showing up at Aunt Kate’s diner several times a week.” She winked. “There are a few of us who would love to see the two of them find love the second time around.”

Annie harrumphed. Perhaps some woman could picture Lieutenant Bear Arnold as a nice man, but not her. “He’s helping me only because Mrs. Peate asked him to. How can my plan work if he opposes it?”

Mama stuck her needle in the trouser leg. “Annie Abigail Bliss, you’re giving one man too much power. If God is for it…”

“…who can be against it?” Annie rubbed her forehead. “You’re right, of course.” She forced a smile. “But you have to admit it would be easier if he was as excited about it as I am.” She cut off the end of the yarn that she had twisted too much to use. She shifted to green, to remind her of spring, and dug in her basket for larger knitting needles. This time her first row came out evenly spaced and with the right number of stitches. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“Easier, perhaps—but not as much fun.” Mama’s laughter resounded in Annie’s ears, and she made short work of the mitten’s cuff.

Chapter 4

A
loud cry awoke Jeremiah in the night. He battled his blankets and sat up straight in bed, his Colt in his right hand. His head swung around, but no one moved in the shadows. Chaswell, the only other officer in the bachelor’s quarters, snored, his sleep uninterrupted.

No enemy threatened Jeremiah or the regiment’s safety; only his own painful nightmares troubled him, the same ones he’d suffered after Fannie’s death followed on the heels of his parents’ deaths. Those dreams had ended years ago until Annie Bliss and her knitting project had disturbed his peace.

The women Jeremiah had dealings with as chaplain fell into two categories. He offered officers’ wives the same respect he afforded their husbands. As far as camp followers and other such women in every station and town in the west, he warned his soldiers to keep out of their way and took care to follow his own advice.

He had minimized his contact with pretty young things like Annie Bliss. Chaswell likened his behavior to a horse with blinders. But Annie had burst on the scene, tearing the blinders from his eyes and forcing him to see the spirited, godly young woman with a mission from God.

The sky had lightened to a predawn gray, and he saw no point in seeking slumber again, “perchance to dream,” as Hamlet despaired. After he scrubbed his face, he grabbed his Bible and headed for the stable. He had enough time to ride to his favorite place to greet dawn, about a five-minute ride from the fort.

He had spent more time on horseback in the past ten days than he had in the past ten months, and today he would add more miles to that total. He had to ride into town for his second meeting with the self-proclaimed missionary to the military.

Inside the stable, familiar odors greeted Jeremiah, and his horse’s soft nicker welcomed him. He rubbed her nose while feeding her a bit of carrot. “I’m spoiling you.” She stood quietly while he saddled up and led her outside before closing the door and climbing on her back.

The guard at the gate called, “Morning, Chaplain.” Waving back, Jeremiah headed into the cool spring Kansas morning. Winter snow had disappeared only a week ago. God knew Jeremiah needed a place to escape and think things over.

Once he reached his spot and settled his mare, he reached for a blade of new spring grass. He tried whistling down the shaft, without success, before he stuck it between his teeth. David might have done the same thing when he was a shepherd. The habit lingered from Jeremiah’s boyhood.

The mare matched Jeremiah well, but she was getting up in years. If he chose to reenlist, he would need a new horse. She deserved to end her years in peace, but where could he find her a home?

Annie’s horse was well cared for, as was everything he noticed about her home.

Annie, again. Jeremiah jerked at the blade of grass and spat it on the ground. What did it take to get the girl out of his mind? This spot near the fort had become sacred ground as he spent time here, bringing the faces of his departed loved ones to mind. Over this past winter, their faces had lost focus, smudged by a mental eraser. The lack of fidelity to their memories, not to mention his disastrous dalliance with a saloon girl, made him feel unclean, unworthy. He had dreamed of being Hosea to her Gomer, only she dragged him down to her level and then died in a drunken gunfight at the saloon. He had fled into the army for escape six years ago next month.

Had all his years ministering to the men under his care counted for nothing? Sunshine rippled over his open Bible. “Lord, You promised me perfect peace if I keep my mind stayed on You. I’m trying, Lord. But I’m not at peace. I want to head in the direction You’re leading me, whether to remain in the army or leave it for something new.”

No answer came, at least not one he could hear. Today he would cling to the promise of God’s abiding presence when he came face-to-face with Miss Annie Bliss for their second meeting.

His mare nuzzled his neck, bringing him a small measure of comfort. He stood and scratched her nose. “If God gave you the gift of speech like Balaam’s donkey, what would you say?” After he climbed on her back, he urged her to a gallop, one that cooled his skin and cleared the fuzziness of his brain for the morning ahead. If he couldn’t resolve his feelings, he could at least ignore them for a few hours and complete his duties out of force of habit.

Upon his return to the fort, the young guard saluted him. “Lieutenant Arnold, Mrs. Peate has asked to see you after breakfast.”

Jeremiah bit his lip. He wouldn’t get the expected reprieve after all.

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” Annie hovered in the kitchen.

Her mother chuckled. “If you keep this up, I’ll bring out my damask tablecloth and china.”

Annie could just about imagine the horror on the Bear’s face if they went to such lengths. “Don’t do that!”

Mama laughed. “I have everything under control. Why don’t you bring your basket in here to finish that last mitten, and we can visit while we work?”

BOOK: Calico Brides
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ads

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