The Officer and the Bostoner (Historical Western Romance) (Fort Gibson Officers Series, Book 1) (11 page)

Allison swallowed past the hard lump that had formed in her throat. The miracle she’d so desperately needed had just happened, and once again, it came in the form of one Captain Wes Tucker.

~Chapter Twelve~

Wes knew buying her a shirt to wear with her skirt was only a temporary solution. She still needed a wardrobe; and it was apparent that while her pride might still refuse to believe it, she was not going to be able to make herself a suitable set of clothing—especially if he could convince her to stay here with him.

“
Mrs. Lewis, I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

“
Anything for you, Wes.”

Wes hid his grin. Mrs. Lewis had almost been like a second mother to him since he’d joined the army and met her at West Point. “I heard a rumor day before yesterday that a ball is scheduled for the middle of next week. As you know, Allison doesn’t have a suitable gown—”

“Say no more, it would be my pleasure to make her one.”

“
Thank you,” Wes said, a measure of relief washing over him. “If you don’t mind, could this be our secret? I’d like to surprise her with it, if possible?”

A smile split Mrs. Lewis’ wrinkled face. “If I were twenty years younger, I’d have married you in an instant. You don’t worry about anything. I’ll have her dressed like a queen. Let me go see what all I have that I can use,” she said as she scurried away toward a large chest at the end of her bed.

“Mrs. Ridgely,” Wes said, favoring the other woman with a smile. He didn’t know her quite as well as Mrs. Lewis. General Ridegly—or General Rigid, as some of them referred to him behind his back due to his rigid stature and strict, formal mannerisms—had only been sent here a year ago and was the other four officers’ commander. He wasn’t overly familiar with General Ridgely’s officers, as he preferred to be stricter with his men than Colonel Lewis was. His wife, however, was a stark contrast to his rigid indifference. What Wes had seen of her, she seemed very sweet and often found ways to make others aware of their mistakes not by condemning someone for them, but rather by taking a more subtle approach. She’d probably already surmised what Wes had about Allison’s sewing skills, so there wasn’t any reason not to be blunt. “Would it be possible for you to make her a gown, too?” he blurted.

She walked over to where she’d been sitting earlier and lifted up what she’d been working on. “I started one for her yesterday. It should be done tomorrow or the day after.”

Wes could hide his grin no longer. “Thank you. I am sure she will appreciate it far more than the shirt I bought for her.”

“
Don’t discount yourself, Captain,” Mrs. Ridgely said, laying the gown back in its earlier spot. “I’ve been sewing as fast as I can to finish this gown for her, and now I’ll be able to slow down and make sure I do it right. Besides, I know you haven’t courted too many young ladies, but I’ve never seen one as excited about a gift as she was after you explained what you meant for her to do with it.”

Wes’ heart skipped a beat. He knew she’d looked a bit apprehensive to open it, then confused when she realized it was a shirt. But he’d been a bit uncertain if she was really as excited as she appeared about having it. Mrs. Ridgely’s confirmation was just the encouragement he needed.

He idly scratched his jaw and debated if he should ask her if Allison ever spoke of him or gave any indication that she might like to stay, but Allison emerged before he could decide if that would be prudent to ask or make him seem like a besotted fool.

“
Would you look at that?” he drawled.

Allison ran her hands over her abdomen, then down her hips where the top of her skirt hung loosely. “I fear that I’ve lost a bit of weight since I took my measurements.”

“That’s all right,” he argued. “I’ll see if I can find you a belt and perhaps Mrs. Lewis and Mrs. Ridgely can help you put some loops along the top. They’re both experts at attaching and refashioning them, when you consider how many their husbands have busted over the years.”

“
He’s right about that,” Mrs. Lewis said, shaking her head ruefully.

Wes took a step toward Allison. “How does that shirt fit?” There really wasn’t a reason to ask that. He could see just as well as everyone else that it hugged her breasts perfectly, but he had the strangest urge to touch her shoulders and run his hands down her arms. He stepped behind her and brushed his hands over her sleeves to straighten out the imaginary wrinkles, then fixed her collar. “It looks like a good fit,” he said hoarsely, coming back to stand in front of her again.

“Thank you,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

He wondered what that was about but didn’t wish to embarrass her by asking in front of her friends, so he settled for just telling her that she was welcome. “I’ll see if I can find a suitable belt.”

Allison bobbed her head in understanding, then went back behind the dressing screen to change.

When she finished, they had a quick lunch. Then it was time for Wes to go back to work.

“You wouldn’t happen to have an extra belt in the store room, would you, Jack?” Wes asked as he dropped into his chair.

Jack lowered the paper he’d been reading and narrowed his eyes. “First a shirt two sizes smaller than normal and now a belt? Have you contracted some sort of disease?”

“No, you dimwit,” Gray said, joining them. “It’s quite clear
he’s
not the one wearing them. What I’d like to know is if his wife knows he’s trying to outfit her like a soldier.”

“
You ain’t really thinking to dress her up like one of us and disguise her as one of your men, are you?” McCorkle asked, his blue eyes wide, presumably because of all the rules—both spoken and implied—such a thing would break.

“
Why the hell would he do that?” Gray asked with his usual bluntness as he dug into one of the deep drawers he and Wes shared.

“
I don’t know. Ask Tucker. He’s the one who is outfitting his wife like a soldier,” McCorkle said.

Wes, Gray and Jack exchanged looks.
This
was the harm in joining conversations late—and being a bit of a simpleton at times.

“
As it would happen, all of the Boston ladies are currently wearing shirts tucked into their skirts rather than full gowns. I just thought that since she was separated from her luggage, I could help her out by obtaining the shirt so all she had to make was her skirt.” At least that last part was partially true, so he wasn’t completely fibbing.

“
Speaking of her luggage,” Gray said, tossing on the table that blasted leather case Wes had found the day they’d found the overturned stage.

Wes refused to let his face burn as he cleared his throat, forced a scowl and snapped it up. The truth was, he’d rather die a slow and painful death than to admit he was holding onto a bundle of letters full of love and admiration meant for Allison—written by another man. Ignoring, Gray’s imploring stare, complete with a lifted eyebrow and curious eyes, Wes tucked the offending parcel under his arm and chastised himself for not hiding it better. He’d been sharing a desk with Gray for more than two years now and had never once seen the man open up their drawer. Now, he’d just have to find a better hiding spot for it for the time being. In truth, he
should
bring it up to Allison and give it to her. It was rightfully hers to have and the letters were meant for her, but for a reason he couldn’t quite put words to, he wasn’t ready yet to give it back.

“
It won’t be so fancy, but I’m sure I can find something,” Jack said. He leaned back in his chair, taking the front two legs a good six inches off the floor, and folded his hands over his abdomen. “Say, Allison doesn’t happen to have any sisters who might come visiting anytime soon, does she?”

Wes hoped not. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“I was just thinking I could use a wife, that’s all.”

Gray snorted. “With a statement as flattering as that one, I’m sure you’ll have one in no time.”

Jack frowned and brought his chair back to the floor with a thud. “What? It’s no secret that being a married man has some advantages. For one, I no longer have to share a bed with Wes. If I got married, you two—” he pointed to Gray and McCorkle— “wouldn’t have to share a bed any longer, either.”

“
And while that sounds like a blessing and a double boon, since you won’t be in the room any longer, either, that is not a reason to get married.”

“
Well, that’s not the only reason,” Jack argued. “There are other advantages that Wes gets to enjoy.”

No, at present Wes wasn’t enjoying the other advantages of marriage that Jack was alluding to, either. Not that he’d ever admit that to them.

“Then find some private time and take care of
those
needs yourself,” Gray said flippantly.

For as much time as Gray spent with the prostitutes when they came to town, one would think Gray would understand Jack’s motives in that regard.

“Jack, I don’t know if anyone in Allison’s family plans to come visit her—” mainly because he didn’t know just who her family was or what relations she might have, but these three didn’t need to know that— “but now isn’t the best time to be thinking about a wife. Allison has had a very hard time adjusting to the lack of creature comforts. You might have better luck sending off for a bride when you get moved to another fort that’s not so isolated.”

“
There’s plenty for a lady here,” Jack argued. “It’s just your lack of imagination and protectiveness that has kept Allison from enjoying her time here.”

Wes frowned. “Would you care to explain yourself? It’s not as if I can just have her wander around the fort during the day. She needs to be with the other ladies.”

“Of course,” Jack agreed. “But as soon as you’re done for the day, you escort her to your room, then to dinner, and then back to your room. Then we see her again at breakfast and that’s it. Have you considered that even though we’re just men and can be a bit crass at times, she might enjoy playing cards with us or going out to the bonfire?”

Wes couldn’t believe his ears. Any idiot knew those were not activities in which a lady would like to participate.

“Do you plan to take her out tomorrow afternoon to see the rounders game?” Gray asked, saving Wes from having to respond to Jack’s stupid suggestion.

Wes started. He forgot that tomorrow was the men versus the officers. “I don’t think so. I don’t know if she’d have a good time.”

“Yes, because condemning her to a life of sewing and other domestic pursuits is far more enjoyable than sitting out in the sunshine and watching a game,” Gray commented.

Well, when put that way... Gray had a point, though. Just because the other ladies didn’t care to watch the games didn’t mean that Allison wouldn’t find it enjoyable. “I’ll see if she’s interested in coming. If she is, I’ll be sure to bring her. As for your suggestions—” he turned his eyes toward Jack— “I don’t think those are what I’d consider to be suitable alternatives.”

Jack shook his head. “Wes, I’d think she’d probably find anything away from your solitary company a suitable activity.”

~Chapter Thirteen~

“
Did we get another delivery?” Allison asked when they reached the top of the stairs near their room.

“
It sure looks like we did. What do you think it is?”

She cast him a slightly annoyed look. “It looks like a bathtub, but I wasn’t expecting to see one outside our room.”

“Do you not think that army men bathe?”

“
Well.” She shrugged. “I didn’t know. None that I’ve seen have looked very clean.”

He chuckled. “That’s because most either don’t care or haven’t had a chance to use the tub yet.”

She grimaced. “Everyone uses the same tub?”

“
No, not everyone. Some share. Some don’t.”

“
Who will we share with?”

The grin that spread his face could only be described as wolfish. “Each other. I got General Ridgely’s approval today for us to have our own tub.”

“Was this the special occasion you’d mentioned I’d need the new dress for this morning?” she asked, lifting the shirt and skirt draped over her free arm.

“
I’d hoped so. But even if Ridgely hadn’t approved of us having our own tub, it was our night on the schedule to use the officers’ tub.”

She squeezed Wes’ arm. “Thank you. I am in desperate need of a bath, but I feared...” She shrugged.

“Now you shall have one, and then you will have some fresh clothes to put on afterwards.”

“
Thank you,” she said again, coming up on her toes and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Before she could think of why she’d done that over something as simple as making arrangements for her to have a bath, she let go of his arm and walked over to examine the tub. “You will bring it inside for me, won’t you?”

“
No, I don’t think I will.” He poked his lower lip out and shook his head. “I thought you’d bathe out here and enjoy the view of the fort—of course all the men will be enjoying the view, too.”

“
And just where will you be?”

“
Standing right here, getting the best view of all.”

A shiver skated down her spine at his words, and doing her best to school her features, she simultaneously shrugged and sighed. “Well, if that’s the way it has to be, go get the water.” Frankly, she was so desperate for a bath, the idea that Wes would see her taking one almost didn’t bother her at all. Almost. The only reason that it didn’t bother her was that if he were in the room with her, she knew he would be mindful enough of her vulnerability to distract himself with something else. But was that what she really wanted him to do? Of course it was! A proper young lady didn’t wonder what a man’s reaction would be at seeing her naked! Nor did she even think about asking him to help her in and out of the tub, and most certainly not to help her with her hair.

“I wasn’t serious.” Wes’ gentle tone pulled her from her wandering thoughts.

“
I know.” She winced at her uneven turn, then cleared her throat. “I just got distracted...”

He unlocked the door and pulled it open for her, then used his back to hold open the door while he lifted the tub. “Don’t worry. I’ll be a perfect gentleman, I promise.”

She didn’t doubt that; but would she remember to be a perfect lady?

Pushing the wicked thought from her mind, she entered the room and waited for him to come in so she could close the door.

“Can you get the fire started?” Wes asked.

Allison set her new clothes down on the bed. “Of course.”

“All right, you start it, and I’ll go down to the well and get you some water.” He picked up the metal pail that came inside the tub and made a move to walk past her just as she took a step toward the fire. His thick arm brushed straight across the softness of both of her breasts. The color in his cheeks heightened. “I’m sorry,” he said, then left.

She assumed his rough reaction hadn’t necessarily been because her breasts had brushed him, as she’d slept atop him with her breasts pressing against his body for hours and hours the other night; but rather, like her, he was feeling the discomfort of the coming moments.

She dismissed the thought. It wouldn’t be so bad; she wouldn’t let it. Allison knelt down and repositioned the firewood in the fireplace, then lit the kindling and blew the small flame until it caught. She almost smiled. How ironic that growing up in Boston she’d never learned to sew or embroider or cook because someone was always there to do it for her, but she’d learned to build and stoke fires. Out of necessity, of course. She could have rung for someone to come to her room to do it for her, and while waiting, she might have frozen half to death some winters. It took her a while, but she eventually did learn how to make a fire.

Perhaps sewing would be the same way. If she’d just persist, perhaps she’d learn. And if she learned... She bit her lip to staunch that thought immediately. Wes was charming and handsome and he’d make a good husband. But he couldn’t be hers. She’d already made a promise to Nicholas. A promise that wasn’t easily broken, she thought with a grimace. Besides, Wes probably didn’t want her to stay anyway.

She tossed another log on the fire, and just as the flames were starting to grow, Wes came in with two pails of water. He set them down next to the fire, then pushed this log and moved that log, creating a much larger flame almost instantly. Apparently her fire-building skills still needed some work. But at least she’d gotten it started and hadn’t embarrassed herself completely.

He moved the metal buckets right in front of the fire, then walked over to the dining table, shrugged his coat off and placed it over the back of one of the chairs. “It shouldn’t take too long for it to heat up. The water that comes out of the wells around here is never very cold.”

Allison nodded and took a seat in one of the wobbly chairs. “I can wait here and bathe alone if you’d like to go to dinner.”

An unreadable expression came over his face and he reached for his coat.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she blurted. She sighed and racked her brain for how to explain what she’d meant. “I’m not trying to run you out of your own home. I just thought you might like to eat dinner with your friends tonight, since you weren’t able to last night or the night before.”

He stared at her for a minute and then released his hold on his coat, a hint of uncertainty still shadowing his face. “I asked Jack to bring our plates up here. I thought we could have dinner together. Alone.”

Now, it was her turn to stare at him. She didn’t know why she was staring at the unusual man she was sharing her time, life, and even her bed with; but she just stared at him anyway. Did he like being alone with her? Sure, he spent time each evening alone with her, teasing her about the progress of her dress or lying next to her in silence as the sun faded away and they drifted to sleep. But with the exception of his subdued mood yesterday that resulted in a meal of dried goods and her fit of vapors the night before, she assumed he’d rather eat with his friends.

“
I can have him take it back downstairs when he arrives. Or better yet, I can just go down there and eat now,” he said, grabbing his coat again.

“
No!” She jumped to her feet and reached for his arm. “No. I was merely surprised that you’d wish to eat alone with me. I just assumed you tolerated my presence because you didn’t have a choice.”

“
I don’t tolerate your presence,” he said, his voice a mere whisper. “I’m a man, Allison. I don’t speak in a special code, nor do my actions suggest one thing, but mean something else. If I didn’t like you being here or I thought you were bothering me, I’d have gotten you your water, then excused myself. Now, if you don’t want me here, that’s a different matter entirely.”

“
No.” She licked her lips and tucked a tendril of her dark hair behind her ear. “I do want you here. I just didn’t know you wanted to be here—and not just because there’s about to be a naked woman in here.”

His eyes widened a touch and then his arm stiffened. “No. And that’s not why I wanted to stay.”

“I know.” She grinned. “If you were that concerned with having my innocence, you’d have taken it long before now.”

He took a step toward her, closing the gap between them. “And what makes you think I’m not interested in having your innocence?”

Her breath caught. “Are you?” What a silly question to have asked. She knew him well enough by now to know that he was only saying that to her to be scandalous and see her reaction. “Please forget I asked that.”

Something flickered in his eyes, then they shot to something beyond her left shoulder. “Your water appears to be ready.”

Allison forced herself to turn around and look at the bit of steam coming off the top of the two pails of water.

Wes picked up a towel and went over to the pails. He grabbed the handle, and using the towel as a layer of protection between the hot pail and his hand, he dumped the water into the tub he’d positioned just a few feet away in front of the fire. Then he did the second. It didn’t fill the tub entirely, but it was more than half full, which was plenty of water to bathe in.

“Thank you,” she murmured as he set the pail back to the ground.

He nodded to her, then lay down on top of their bed. “Your water is ready when you are, my lady.”

Allison wasn’t sure why he’d said that or had such a sarcastic tone after what he’d said only a moment before. Wes, she was learning, was more complex than he’d like her to think. She resisted the urge to throw a glance over her shoulder to see if he was watching her and unbuttoned the front of her gown, then slipped it off her shoulders. It felt so good to be out of its confines, knowing she wouldn’t have to put it back on shortly. She stepped out of the puddle it made on the floor and peeled off her stockings, then reached for the hem of her chemise and with one swift motion pulled it over her head and dropped it on the bed behind her.

“
Do we have any soap?” she asked as a belated thought just as she sank into the steaming tub.

“
It’s on the nightstand,” Wes said thickly.

“
Do you think you could—”

Before she’d even finished her question, a tanned hand holding a round, white cake of soap in its open palm appeared in front of her.

She took the soap from Wes; then just as quickly, a little square of cloth was pushed in her direction. She took that, too.

“
Thank you.”

“
You’re welcome.” His voice sounded different than usual, strained perhaps.

Ignoring the way her skin tingled with awareness that he was in the room with her and could even be watching the back of her as she bathed, she spun the soap in her hands then proceeded to wash herself.

It felt so great to sit in a steaming tub and wash off the dirt that had collected on her person over the past three weeks, but what of her hair? She turned her head just enough to catch sight of Wes. He was lying on the bed, hands fisted at his sides and staring at the ceiling.

She turned her head back, put her ankles up on the front lip of the tub, gripped the sides and scooted her bottom toward the end. She tried to move slowly so not to dump water out the sides; but all thoughts of that were gone when she slid, and despite her hold on the tub, her entire upper body fell into the water with her bottom on one end of the tub and her head under the water on the other.

A hint of panic settled in her chest and she tried to pull herself up. But with wet hands on a slippery metal surface, very little upper body strength and the back of her knees unable to gain purchase on the end of the tub, all she was able to accomplish was an excessive amount of thrashing.

Suddenly, two strong hands gripped her under her arms and pulled her up from under the water.

“Thank you,” she gasped, swiping at the rivulets of water that were coursing down her face.

Wes handed her a towel to wipe her face. “Dare I ask if that was intentional?”

Allison crossed her arms over her breasts and scowled at him. “I was trying to wet my hair so I could wash it.”

He pursed his lips and studied her hair. “Looks all wet to me.”

She swatted at his thigh. “Would you—”

“
Wash your hair for you so you don’t accidentally drown yourself? I’d be happy to.” He knelt down behind her, then reached for the towel he’d handed her to dry her face with. He folded it in half, then from behind her, draped it over the tub in front of her. “There, that should cover you well enough so you can uncross your arms and relax.”

Allison leaned her head back and peered up to watch him as he made a thick, creamy lather from the cake of soap he’d given her to use earlier. He was every bit the gentleman Mrs. Lewis and Sarah claimed him to be—even with the top three buttons of his shirt undone, offering her a generous glimpse of his tanned chest. She swallowed and turned her eyes away.

A moment later, his hands were on her head with his strong fingers digging into her hair and spreading the soap through her strands.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head into his hands. He ran his fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp in a way that made her want to sigh in contentment. His touch was firm yet gentle as he continued to spread the lather over her thick hair.