The Men of Pride County: The Rebel (28 page)

“How’s Captain Howell?” he asked.

“Better than a lot of them. The bullet’s out and he’s resting fairly comfortably.”

Noble nodded, his gaze dropping away before she could read what he wasn’t saying in it. She didn’t need the words to feel the pain. As she had on the night he’d brought in the slain deserters, Juliet stepped forward without hesitation, her arms encircling him, simply holding him on that darkened porch where no one was there to see. At the moment, she didn’t care if they did. All that mattered was Noble and finding a way to express how much his return unharmed meant to her.

“This is the part of it you never get used to,” he told her sorrowfully. “Even after three
years of war, each loss feels so personal, making you wonder what you could have or should have done, when all you really can do is write the letters home.”

“You need sleep, Major.”

“So do you.”

He moved back, freeing himself from her embrace but not from her care. His hand slid down her arm until their fingers meshed and held tight. Wordlessly, he led her to his quarters. Once inside the unlit room, he took her in his arms, crushing her against the hard wall of his chest, where their hearts beat together in what should have been passion, but wasn’t.

His hand scooped under her chin, lifting her face in the cradle of his palm so that he could kiss her, again the fierce gesture speaking of desperation but not desire. Juliet answered with an equal yearning, with emotions too complex for the light of day but somehow just right in this place of shadows, at this moment of shared need.

She let her kisses express what she couldn’t frame in words as she tasted his generous mouth, the aggressive bristles of his three-day-old beard, the salty line of his throat where the steady pulse of life provided inarguable proof that he’d survived the ordeal.

And she hugged him hard to make herself believe that would be enough. That she’d be able to let him go the next time duty called him.

But in her heart, she didn’t know if she
could. She didn’t know, after hearing Pauline Folley’s sobs, that she could find that kind of strength to wave and smile as he rode out to meet an uncertain fate.

Maybe she was just tired. Or maybe she was tired out after years of smiling and waving. Or maybe she’d finally found someone so important to her daily existence that she selfishly wanted to say,
No more. Let someone else do this thankless job. I’ve sacrificed enough already
.

And when they lay down together on his narrow bed, the intimacy they sought wasn’t one of breathless cries and hurried physical joining but rather of closeness, a closeness shared fully dressed, discreetly wrapped within each other’s arms.

That was enough on this night, what was needed for them both to find a healing slumber.

At daybreak Juliet slipped into the house. She’d left Noble dozing fitfully but aware enough to return her kiss of parting with knee-weakening result. She needed to wash and change her clothing, and sought a few more hours of undisturbed sleep in the embrace of her own bed.

But her bed wasn’t empty.

She must have made some sound of surprise. It was enough to wake Anne Stacy from her restless dreams—if she’d indeed been sleeping.

“I’m sorry,” Juliet stammered awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

She’d started to back from her room when the older woman sat up to extend her own apology.

“Please don’t go. I can’t sleep anyway, and it wasn’t my intention to occupy your room without your permission. Your father thought you’d be at the hospital for most of the night and said I might rest a while until you returned. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No.” Juliet smiled, the gesture weary but genuine. “I don’t mind. How are you feeling?”

“About how you look. Worn down to nothing but nerves. Every time I open my eyes, I expect to find myself in my bed with my Morris beside me.”

Juliet nodded, not knowing what to say.

Anne sighed. “I suppose I’ll get used to it.”

“You will.”

“I hear experience beyond your years in that voice. Your father tells me you lost your mother to the Apache at a young age.” She smiled faintly, and in a strange way, that gentle smile reminded Juliet of the mother she still missed. “That gives us a certain kinship of sorrow, doesn’t it?”

“A rather unfortunate alliance, one we share with far too many.”

“And will share with many more as long as men are anxious to take what they want without asking for it. But you can’t tell them anything they don’t want to hear. You couldn’t
tell Morris that the land he bought and paid to settle really belonged to the Indians. He wouldn’t listen to any words of caution.”

Juliet came to sit on the edge of the bed, needing to share a moment of reflection with one who understood the turmoil in her heart. “How long had you been out here?”

“Five years. Five hard, long years. Hard enough to change an already disciplined man into one as unyielding as those buttes. Long enough for him to forget that we once were in love. I guess he felt he could show no weaknesses if we were to survive.”

Juliet covered the woman’s hands with her own. “I always thought one found strength through love, not harshness.”

Sadly, Anne shrugged. “Even though the Apache took his life with their arrows, I’d lost the man I married years ago. Burying him seemed just a delay of the inevitable. Does that sound terrible?”

Juliet shook her head. She understood. “So, what will you do?”

“Your father has graciously allowed me to stay at the fort until he can arrange safe passage for the injured and for the other woman who also lost her husband. I suppose I’ll go back to Massachusetts. That’s where my family used to be. It’s been so long since I’ve heard from them, I’m really not sure where they are now.”

“You’ve no children?”

“A son, fighting for the Union cause. I’ll try
to get a letter to him. My two daughters died of a fever when they were little more than babies. I’m afraid if I go back East, my boy, Ben will never be able to find me.”

“He will. My father can see that your message gets through to him.”

Anne sighed, her eyes going misty. “I’d be so grateful.”

Feeling uncomfortable taking those teary thanks for doing so little, Juliet said, “Would you like some coffee?”

Anne smiled. “I’d love some. But only if you’ll allow me to help in the kitchen.”

“I’d welcome the company, Anne.”

Together they went into the Crowley kitchen to begin a meal.

Noble Banning gave his report a few hours later. “I take full responsibility for what happened, sir. It was my ignorance that led us into that trap and cost us so many lives.”

John Crowley regarded his second in command with a stern expression, but Juliet saw the empathy in her father’s eyes. Miles and George Allen were also present at what could easily turn into an inquisition, but the colonel wasn’t looking for martyrs or anxious to deal out punishments.

“Not ignorance, Major. Inexperience. Something, unfortunately, that one rarely gains without learning a harsh lesson.”

“I’m not the one who’s paid the price, sir.”

Crowley smiled sadly. “Yes, you are, Major.
You’ll pay every time you look back on this event and wonder what you should have done, when you take the blame for all the men we bury. No price comes as high as that of responsibility. I never fault a man for inexperience as long as he admits to it and learns something from his mistakes. God knows I’ve spent plenty of time in that school.” He affixed his name to the paper in front of him.

“I’m satisfied that you did everything properly, that you acted to your best ability to secure the safety of your men. I consider this matter closed unless either of you officers has anything to add.”

His look skewered Miles, who gripped his lips together and shook his head.

“I’m satisfied, sir,” Allen volunteered.

“You’re all dismissed then.”

“Sir,” Noble took a step forward. “I’d like a word with you in private.”

Crowley nodded to the other officers. “Gentlemen, good day.”

Juliet retreated to the kitchen to give them privacy but was perversely drawn to lean close to the door-opening so she could listen to what was being said. She told herself she would withdraw if the matters being discussed were personal, and she hoped she could keep to that vow. But just in case she had a stake in what was being discussed …

“What’s on your mind, Major?”

“I lost a lot of men on this campaign.”

She took the answering silence for her father’s nod of agreement.

“I would like to know … I think I have the right to know if the man who betrayed our unit was among the fallen.”

Juliet put a hand to her mouth to stifle her gasp. Would her father answer?

“If I told you yes, would you believe me, Major Banning?”

A pause, then, “Yes, sir.”

“And if that answer was yes, what would your next course of action be, Major?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand—”

“With the reason for you bringing your men all the way out here gone, what would you do? Honor your word to me or the oath you took when taking up the Confederate cause? Which holds the higher priority? I’d be a fool to believe it was the word given to your sworn enemy.”

He didn’t answer right away, which showed how much respect he had for her father. He didn’t try to bluff him with a quick lie, nor would he declare his intentions.

“I have served you well, Colonel.”

“Yes, you have. But only because I had something you wanted.”

“Does that mean you no longer have it?”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all. What I will say is the day we hear that the war in the East is over, I’ll tell you what you want to know. Then the matter will be between you and your conscience and off mine.”

Juliet exhaled in wobbly relief.

Noble would remain at Fort Blair at least until the war’s end—a bittersweet comfort because her relief was edged with doubt.

For as long as Noble held himself hostage to the truth her father denied him, she would never know the nature of his intentions toward her.

Chapter 21

“Tell him what he wants to know, Papa.”

Crowley looked from the closed front door through which Noble had just exited to his daughter as she emerged from the kitchen. “You were listening.” It was a mild accusation, proving he wasn’t really surprised.

“Is that any greater crime than what you’re doing by blackmailing that man for his loyalty?”

He frowned, pricked by her blunt phrasing and perhaps by his conscience. “This is Army business, daughter, and none of yours. It’s a matter of honor.”

“It is mine, whether you say so or not. This man you protect with your silence has no honor. He betrayed those who trusted him. Why do you feel obligated to shield the man who may have twice tried to take your life? Do you value your word to a liar, a traitor, and a possible murderer over your safety? Over mine?”

Crowley looked clearly surprised. “These matters are totally different.”

“Are they? Who would have greater motive? Who would want you silenced more than the one who fears what you have to say? Tell Noble what he wants to know. Let him deal with the man. He’s right, you know. He’s earned the opportunity to see justice done.”

“I will tell him.”

“When it may be too late. Are you going to wait until this coward tries to take another shot?”

He waved a hand to calm her fears. “Jules, it’s not the same man.”

“How can you know that? Tell me. Make me believe it.”

“I can’t.

“Why? Why not? I may already be a target, so what difference does it make if you tell me now? Unless—” She stared at her father, assessing his immobile features, probing his hard glare. The truth she learned there rocked her. “Unless you’re afraid I’d take the information to Noble. Unless you’re afraid I’d betray your confidence.”

He didn’t look ashamed. He didn’t look away. He didn’t even blink as he asked flatly, “Would you?”

He couldn’t have hurt her more if he’d slapped her and called her faithless.

She took a stumbling step back, struggling to speak the wounded assurances he waited impassively to hear. The words couldn’t penetrate
the anguish lodged in her throat. She swallowed hard, blinking back tears of fractured trust, a trust that never should have been doubted. Then, without giving an answer, she swept out the back door, leaving him shocked, angry, and unsatisfied.

The soil was hot, scorching waves reflecting off it causing Juliet to blink off drips of perspiration. And fight back tears of anger.

How could he suggest such a thing to her?

She snapped the failing leaves off her struggling seedlings, hoping to channel more strength to the rest of the plants. She didn’t know why she bothered. She could already see they’d never thrive in this hostile clime.

She wiped a shaky hand across her brow and bent back to the futile task.

How could he question her loyalty? Hadn’t she followed him from post to post, enduring hardship, loneliness, and fear without complaint? Hadn’t he poured out his worries, his doubts to her on endless evenings, seeking her advice, her counsel above that of his officers? Had she ever, even once, betrayed that confidence? Had she ever given him cause to suspect her integrity?

She blinked against the burn in her eyes and tried to focus on the next small sprout. It lay withered and limp upon the ground, and with a cry of frustration, she tore it out by its insufficient roots, flinging it aside. Why was she wasting time on what would never grow?

And how could she ever repair the sense of trust once it had been uprooted with equal savagery?

Sitting back on her heels, she let the silent sobs shake through her shoulders, fueled by unwarranted blame and disappointment. All the years upon years she’d given to her father and his career. All the unflagging support and unbowed approval of his choices. How could he doubt her? How could he ask the state of her heart when it had always, always belonged to him?

Then her broken heart faltered, tripping on one wretched barrier that should have been easily cleared but somehow proved impossible to get over.