The Men of Pride County: The Rebel (11 page)

“Not to help him. To spite him. I’ve seen enough injustice in my day to make me sick of the way things are done in my hometown. Those with money and power pretty much make the laws, laws they don’t have to abide by. I plan to change that.” He grinned at her, the dazzling gesture making her pulse leap. “Not exactly what you expected to hear from a slave-holding secessionist, eh?”

“Not exactly.”

“I don’t believe in this war, Juliet, but I believe in the reasons behind it. I believe in the right of states to make decisions on their own behalf, but beyond that, I believe in the right of men to be treated as men.”

“I should think
that
would be an unpopular view with your plantation neighbors.”

“And with your father and those like him who are just as determined to dominate the rightful owners of all that we see. Supremacy of the rich white man isn’t exclusive to the South, Miz Crowley.”

“Nor is compassion and open-mindedness exclusive to the North, Major Banning.”

He regarded her for a moment, then nodded at the roundabout compliment.

“So you would use what you learned at Harvard to put your own father in jail?”

“No, ma’am. Only to stop him from what he’s doing and to save him from spending the
rest of his years behind bars. I have the greatest of love for my father but unfortunately little respect for his occupation. He gave me the freedom to think for myself, and I will not turn against him by forcing my own values upon him.”

Juliet’s emotions gave an odd shiver. To stabilize them, she said rather dryly, “Ah, a man of impeccable honor.”

“No, ma’am. I have my faults and I struggle with them daily.”

“And what might those horrible faults be? Using the wrong glass at dinner?”

He leveled an unblinking gaze, locking hers within it as helpless prisoner. “Nothing so frivolous as that. I allowed my pride to take the lives of those who followed me without question. I let my agenda force others to bend to my will in declaring allegiance to their enemy. I am not without fault, Miz Crowley. Far from it.”

Before she could prompt him to say more, they were surrounded by Miles Dougherty and a small party of anxious men, who’d obviously expected to find her broken in some ditch instead of chatting comfortably with the Southern officer.

The look Miles gave her stated he’d have preferred to find her in the ditch.

“Are you all right, Jules?”

“Fine, Miles.” She put on a shamed face. “Please forgive my little childish display. I
shouldn’t have let my vanity cause you such concern.”

Miles was immediately all gruff awkwardness. “Don’t apologize, Jules. You shouldn’t have gone off on your own. You know my first concern is always you.”

How she twisted beneath the guilt of that simple statement, because the reverse was not true. “If Major Banning’s Rebels can ride as well as he does, I suggest you let them tame the rest of the horses while you escort me back to my father.”

Miles hesitated, torn between the want to stay and show up the preening Southerners and the sought-after chance to get Juliet alone. In the end, he made the logical choice.

“Major, I would be obliged if you and your men finished breaking in the mounts. Obviously, you are more suited to the task.”

Noble didn’t take his compliance without suspicion. It was too quick, too easily given.

His gaze cut between the officer and Juliet, then understood the Northerner’s priorities. And he accepted them because to do otherwise would have compromised his own intentions, intentions that did not include courting his commander’s daughter, no matter how great the temptation.

But he didn’t have to feel pleased about being supplanted by the likes of the stodgy Northerner. His smile was all teeth and no sincerity.

“Why, certainly, Major Dougherty, though
it seems you’ve taken on the more dangerous chore.”

Juliet sat frozen as Noble tipped his hat to her and rode off with the other troopers.

Chore
.

Is that how he envisioned her? As a chore to be endured in hope of a later reward—perhaps her father’s gratitude? Pride warred with pain, and because she was aware of how closely Miles watched her, she allowed pride to win out.

“Hateful man,” she muttered, then bestowed a grudging smile on the dour major. “But he does know how to sit a horse. Shall we go?”

As they fell in side by side, Miles looked relieved and ventured with some chagrin, “I should have known better than to worry about you.”

“Oh, Miles, good heavens, you know I can hold my own in the saddle.”

“But I wasn’t certain you could hold your own equally well with Banning.”

It took a moment for his complaint to hit home. “What does
that
mean?”

Not noticing how prickly her manner had become, Miles continued with his self-satisfied findings. “I should have known you were too sensible to fall prey to his slick Southern charm.” He cast a quick glance her way to test her reaction. Receiving none, he chuckled to himself. “A man like that is used to having women swooning at his feet. It must be quite
a blow to his conceit to have you so immune.”

“Yes, I’m sure it would be.” Her tone chilled. “If the major was in the least bit interested.”

Miles reacted with surprise, then puffed-up pleasure, seeing the field of opportunity opening before him. “Then the man’s a bigger fool than I first thought him.”

Juliet didn’t argue. And the fact that she couldn’t gave her no joy.

Because although Major Noble Banning might be immune, she wasn’t.

Chapter 8

One of Juliet’s greatest pleasures came from coaxing things to grow in the stingy western “soil.”

Soil was a misnomer, for whatever good top dirt might be found was quickly blown away, leaving the hard-packed earth behind. Its poor quality and the lack of water created a challenge she could not resist. Each tender green sprout nudging its way through the granite-hard ground was a victory, not to mention a reward. Companies competed for the best garden, but Juliet’s had never been outdone. Fresh vegetables augmented bland army fare at her table, and the surplus she sold for a modest price to the fort kitchen. She used that small remuneration to order frivolous female trappings from the East, things she would have been embarrassed to ask her father for. A hat was her latest extravagance. When it would arrive was another mystery.

“Here now, Hortense, get away from those
seeds.” She tossed a clump of dirt to send the hen flapping away.

“She’d best be careful or she’ll be finding herself in the stew with your vegetables.”

The cheerful Irish tones brought a smile of welcome to Juliet’s face. “Good morning, Colleen. How are you settling in? Is there anything you need?”

The redhead pursed her lips. “Nothing you can be givin’ me. A good swift boot in the missus’s behind would do me a world a good.” That last was muttered under her breath, so Juliet pretended not to hear. She covered her laugh with the soft clearing of her throat.

“So this is a visit, then?”

“Oh, no, miss. Herself wouldn’t cotton to me chatting with someone above me station. She sent me to invite you and your father to a party she be givin’ for the officers and their ladies.”

“I see.” Maisy wasted no time in dividing the post according to social status. But declining wasn’t an option. “You can tell Mrs. Bartholomew that my father and I will be happy to attend. And you, Colleen?”

“Me, miss?” She looked startled, then flushed deeply. “Oh, the missus would never allow the likes a me to be smiling at her guests.” She lowered her voice confidentially. “She’d be accusing me a trying to find meself a husband.”

Juliet hid her smile. Maisy’s fears were well justified. One of the hardest things on a frontier
post was for a lady to keep a maid. Within a week of arrival, if the maid was at all agreeable, she’d entertain marriage proposals from at least half of the single enlisted men. The girl could do worse than work for Maisy, but if she bided her time she could make a good match. Juliet scrutinized her plump yet pleasing figure and assessed her easy charm.

“And would she be right, Colleen?”

The girl grinned. “If I was to find the right man, miss.”

“Well, there’s no shortage of men here.”

“If that be the case, miss, why is it that you’ve not found yourself one?” Noting Juliet’s alarm and quickly hidden blush, she added, “If you pardon me for my asking.”

“I’m still looking for the right one, too, Colleen.”

Colleen nodded then added sagely, “Twould be my guess that there’d be plenty willing to be the right one. Especially two right handsome fellows.”

Two? Juliet was about to ask her to clarify her words when another shadow crossed her newly spaded garden plot. She recognized the freckled-faced Southern captain. And she also recognized the way his presence flustered the sassy Irish girl.

“Good morning, Captain Allen. I believe you’ve met Colleen McDonnal.”

The space between the freckles filled in with a flush. “Yes, I have. Hello again, Miss McDonnal. Am I interrupting here?”

“Oh, don’t be silly, sir. I was just leaving. Miss Juliet, I’ll be tellin’ the missus that you and your father will be there.”

As the flustered girl turned away, Juliet called, “Colleen? When are we expected?”

A nervous giggle. “Oh! I guess you’ll be needin’ to know that. Tomorrow night at seven.” With another shy glance at George Allen, she skittered away, nearly tripping over the two chickens in her haste.

“A vivacious girl,” the captain remarked as he watched her retreat.

“She’s very sweet and courageous. She’ll do well out here.” Juliet peeled off her soiled gloves and stood. “Now, Captain, what is it I can do for you?”

“Noble—that is, Major Banning—mentioned that you had a fine selection of reading material.”

“Would you like to borrow something, Captain?”

“If you’d have no objections.”

“None at all.” She led the gawky officer inside and gestured to her wall of literature. It made her smile to see his jaw drop. “Not what you expected?”

“More than I’d hoped for. May I?”

“Help yourself.” Remembering her manners, she asked, “Can I get you some lemonade?”

“That would be lovely, ma’am.”

Lemonade was a sorry affair, made with citric acid crystals and water so poor that it had
to sit until the mud settled to the bottom. But it was a social ritual and one Juliet clung to in memory of her mother, who loved to entertain graciously no matter the obstacles. George Allen was just as gracious in swallowing the bitter concoction without an obvious grimace.

“What have you found?” Curious, Juliet examined the weighty tome. “Saint Thomas More. You have philosophical tastes, Captain.”

“My plan is to continue my work with the church when I return home. I want to be worthy of the task. You look somewhat puzzled, Miss Crowley. You don’t think the army is the proper place for religion?”

“I’ve known quite a few chaplains, but I don’t really think religion and the military mix well.”

“There’s many a troubled soul carrying a carbine, ma’am.” His voice dropped off, his sudden melancholy outweighing his years.

“Like Major Banning?”

Allen blinked in surprise, then glanced away. “I cannot betray confidences, ma’am.”

“He’s confessed to me that he’s a sinner, but I have a hard time imagining what his sins might be. He seems to be an admirable leader and possessed of high moral fiber.”

Allen jumped upon her praises. “There’s the problem, Miss Crowley. Morality and military
do
make a poor combination sometimes. The major’s had to make some difficult compromises over the past few years.” He fidgeted,
uncomfortably aware that he may have said too much already but needing a vent for his own troubled spirit. Juliet was too happy to supply it.

The more she could learn about Noble Banning, the better prepared she would be.

“Like coming here in my father’s command? I can’t believe that was an easy or a popular choice. More lemonade?”

Gratified by her sympathetic manner, George unbent his resolve. “No, ma’am, it wasn’t. He struggles with it along with all the ghosts of the men he’s lost.” He sighed as if those souls were a nightly burden for him, as well.

“Through no fault of his own,” she prompted gently to get him to open up again. She hated to manipulate such a trusting individual, but was also aware of the adage of all being fair in this circumstance.

“No, ma’am. But a good leader always takes responsibility for those in his command. And Noble Banning shoulders the world. He’s had to all his life.”

“Please sit down, Captain. Did you grow up with the major?” She made her questions relaxed so that he wouldn’t be alarmed by her interest. And she was interested in the man and in his past. She told herself it was the smart thing to know as much as possible about the enemy.

“Not really. We grew up in neighboring
counties. I knew of him and his family. Who didn’t know Judge Banning?”

“Judge? I thought Noble said his father wasn’t involved in the law.”

“It’s an honorary title, ma’am, having to do with Mr. Banning’s influence over folks’ lives and such.”

“Noble said he was in politics.”

“Ummm, yes, I suppose that’s true enough. He’s a man who likes control, Miss Crowley, and power. And if he can get that through politics, so be it. He’s not a man you’d want to cross and breathe of the deed to another soul.” He took a sudden breath, then looked ashamed for having spoken ill of another. “But he is Noble’s father.”

She trod more carefully, not wishing to scare him into silence when his words could prove so valuable. “It must be difficult for Noble to reconcile his pursuit of the law with his father’s determination to manipulate it.”

“To say the least, ma’am. He would never take an outward stand against his father for what he does. I think going into lawyering is his way of satisfying his conscience.”

“And is that why he’s after the man who turned his troops in to my father? As if righting that wrong would appease his guilt over his father’s misdeeds?”

Allen choked on his lemonade. His gaze flew up, wide and startled. Her font of information abruptly went dry.