The Officer and the Bostoner (Historical Western Romance) (Fort Gibson Officers Series, Book 1) (14 page)

“
This is more of a game where you watch,” Jack explained, drawing her attention.

“
Oh, so it’s more like a race where the jockeys ride and everyone else sits and watches?” she said, praying nobody would detect the disappointment she felt. For it was of little doubt that Wes would also be a spectator, thus she’d have to sit alone. Actually that might be a good thing. A smile pulled on her lips. Watching would give her the perfect opportunity to stare shamelessly at him without anyone thinking anything about it.

***

Wes wanted nothing more than to reach over and smack his friend. And he didn’t know why. Rounders was not a game for those of her sex, but the disappointment he thought he’d glimpsed on Allison’s face made him wonder if this was a good idea after all.

At least she was smiling now.

“We all spend time as spectators,” Gray said a moment later. “In fact, the majority of those playing are spectators in a sense, and we all spend roughly half the game watching others play.”

“
That’s true,” Wes agreed, shooting Gray a thankful look for the first time in recent memory. “It’s actually fun
being
the spectator.”

“
Wes, I don’t mind, truly.” Her grin returned. “I’ve already formed a plan for exactly what I plan to ‘spectate’.”

Two sharp whistles rent the air.

“I suspect she’ll see the bullet coming for your arse before it actually makes contact,” Jack said.

Wes expected Allison’s face to turn red and her jaw to drop at his forward statement; but she surprised him yet again when her laughter filled the air, and she said, “Wes has been kind enough to offer me his protection while I’m here. It’s the least I can do to return the favor.”

~Chapter Sixteen~

Allison could hardly believe she’d spoken those words, but the roar of laughter that filled the room around her confirmed she had said such an unladylike thing.

The grin that split Wes’ face and caused the corners of his eyes to wrinkle stole yet another piece of her heart.

She forced herself to stand. “Well, boys, do you plan to play your game or shall I observe you all sitting in here instead?”

Jack jumped to his feet, saluted her, then started toward the door. Gray shook his head and took his time getting up to leave.

Once they were both gone, Wes took to his feet, slipped his hands around hers and pulled her toward him. “I want you to know right now that if you need me for anything—you get hot, you’re not having fun and would rather go sew, you want something to drink or you’d like to eat— all you need to do is call my name and I’ll come right over to you.”

“
Do you not want to play?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

“
No, I want to play,” he rushed to say, then squeezed her hand as a strange look came over his face—one that might suggest he was uncertain or torn, perhaps. “I just want you to have a good time.”

“
I will.” She squeezed his hands this time. “And if I don’t, I’ll be sure to make you pay handsomely later.”

“
Then I suppose I’ll have to do whatever I possibly can to make sure you enjoy yourself.”

“
Exactly.”

“
Are you two coming,” Gray hollered, leaning his head back inside the dining room.

“
Yes,” Wes barked at his friend, scowling.

Wes let go of Allison’s left hand, then intertwined their fingers of their hands that were still touching.

She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, but he gave no sign of noticing how her heart was pounding and her blood was racing at such a sweet, intimate gesture.

Outside, they walked to a little field about five hundred yards north of the barracks to where a large group of men stood. Some were holding long, rounded, thick sticks and others were tossing small balls up into the air—or throwing them at each other.

“Wes!” Colonel Lewis called, making a waving motion with his hand.

“
Here,” Wes said. “I want you to sit right here on this barrel.”

Allison read the word painted on the side of the barrel that came way up past her waist. “You want me to sit on a barrel full of ammunition,” she said flatly.

“No. I want you to sit on a barrel that used to have ammunition in it. Now, it holds all of our game equipment when we’re not using it.” Without allowing her a chance to protest further, he placed his strong hands around her waist and hoisted her up onto the barrel, bringing her so high she was nearly eye to eye and nose to nose and lips to lips with Wes.

There was a brush across her lips so quick, so soft, and so perfect it caught her off guard, and she couldn’t reason who’d been the instigator: him or her. Then, she blinked, and all she could see was the broad expanse of Wes’ back as he walked toward Colonel Lewis.

She jerked her eyes away and flushed. Then she cleared her throat and fixed her eyes on the men in front of her.

“
I see it’s true,” Gray said with a chuckle.

Allison turned to face Wes’ friend. “What’s true?”

“That Wes puts you up on a pedestal.”

She flushed again. “Actually, I think it’s a barrel.”

“Either way, he seems to fancy you quite a lot.”

Allison couldn’t stop the smile that spread her lips at hearing those words.

Gray walked away to join the other men, who were now dividing up. Some men went out into the large field, while Wes and his friends got in a long line on this side of the field. The other men, the ones who she assumed were spectators like her, sat in the grass off to the left of where a man with a large, wooden club stood.

“
Let’s play!” hollered Colonel Lewis.

Lieutenant McCorkle gripped the club in his hand, then turned sideways, squatted, and brought the end of the club back to rest on his right shoulder.

The man with the ball wiped his brow, lifted the ball up over his head and backwards, then brought his arm forward and released the ball, sending it sailing through the air right at the man with the club.

Lieutenant McCorkle swung his weapon, missing the ball entirely.

Laughter from the men watching and yells of encouragement from his team members filled the air.

“
Take your time and watch the ball, not your bat,” Wes yelled to him.

Lieutenant McCorkle nodded and the fellow standing behind him tossed the ball back to the man who’d thrown it to start with.

Just like last time, he wiped his brow, brought the ball back, then threw it as hard as he could right at the man with the bat.

Lieutenant McCorkle swung.

Crack!

Cheers filled the air as Lieutenant McCorkle ran to where a man was standing by an old sack, then stayed put.

Jack was up next. He walked out to where Lieutenant McCorkle had been standing just a few moments before, picked up the bat and gave it a practice swing before taking a step forward and resting the bat on his shoulder, assuming a similar stance to what Lieutenant McCorkle had done.

The man on the opposite team threw the ball and Jack swung, knocking it far into the field. He got to the same place Lieutenant McCorkle had and stopped. Lieutenant McCorkle now stood by another bag. If she had to guess, she’d say when Gray hit the ball, they’d all move one.

And just as she’d predicted, that’s exactly what happened. Now someone stood on each of the bags and it was Wes who was walking out to pick up the bat.

Groans, partially drowned out by laughing and whistling from the onlookers, could be heard as he took his stance.

Allison considered tearing her eyes away from where they were fixed on his backside, but she had made him a promise hadn’t she?

CRACK!

A sound akin to lightening striking rent the air, followed by loud cheers and clapping. McCorkle ran to the spot where Wes had once been, then a moment later came Jack, followed a few seconds later by Gray, and then came Wes!

There wasn’t a single unsmiling face on his team; but there were plenty from the opposite team as a breathless soldier came running back toward the group with a ball.

Another officer walked up to collect the bat and play his turn. When they’d first taken teams, Allison hadn’t paid much notice to the lack of men on Wes’ team. Now she realized they might have less, but they clearly weren’t lacking talent.

Several more men came up to take their turns. Some made hits on the first time; some didn’t. Some men made it to “base”, as they were calling it; others didn’t. But nobody hit the ball like Wes, and for some reason, she took a little measure of pride in knowing that her husband was the most talented on his team.

After about fifteen minutes, someone called a third out, whatever that was, and the two teams switched places.

The next set of men were just regular men, she assumed by the way the crowd had styled them. When Wes and his group had been up, cheers of captain or lieutenant had been yelled. This time, they were shouting and cheering for the man’s name, not his rank.

The rounds of one team batting the ball and the other trying to catch it or throw it to a teammate who could tag them or the bag with it to get them “out” continued for almost two hours as the men alternated their positions and the score was yelled out.

Allison had never thought of herself as a competitive one, but she loved the idea of Wes’ team winning—if only by one point.

It was Wes’ turn again. He walked over to the bat and, just as he had so many times already, hit the ball for all it was worth, and then ran.

The men on his team who’d been waiting on their respective bases ran toward home; then came Wes, who stopped mid-stride as he was about to reach home and grinned at her.

Her heart stilled—and so did her body. Then her eyes widened. Without realizing it, she’d been just as noisy as the group of men in front of her, shouting his name and kicking the barrel she was seated on with the heels of her shoes.

She put her palms up, shrugged her shoulders, and grinned.

He shook his head ruefully, then jogged home—the poor man who’d been made to fetch the ball he’d hit still hadn’t made it back.

A moment later, Wes was at her side, his breathing labored. “Is everything all right?”

She stared at him as if he were addled. “Of course it is. I’m having a great time.”

“
I can tell.”

She might have had it in her to be embarrassed, but considering all of the other things she’d let slip in his presence the past few days, cheering for him wasn’t so bad.

“All right. I just wanted to make sure you were having a good time. There’s only a little left. Then I’ll spend the afternoon with you.” He looked up toward the sky and frowned. “I’d thought to take you on the horses, but we might have to settle for a game of cards if those clouds don’t go away.”

Allison looked up. She’d been having such a good time she hadn’t even noticed the clouds. “I’m game for playing cards with you, but only if you promise you’re not as good at cards as you are at this.”

“Not to worry, rounders is the only game I’m any good at.” He tucked a long tendril of her hair behind her ear. “I’d best be getting back over there.”

Allison watched him go, unable to keep herself from grinning at the back of him as he walked away. He was truly a handsome man, inside and out.

A raindrop landed on her hand, and she frowned up at the sky. It was dark with thick, gray clouds hanging overhead. Hopefully they could hold off just a while longer.

Colonel Lewis and General Ridgely took their turns, and so did two of the other officers, the last of whom hit his ball straight into the open hand of the man who guarded second base.

“Out!” yelled the scorekeeper. “That’s three. Time to switch.”

The opposing team took their turns and scored enough points to put them three points ahead of the officers before it was time to switch again.

Resuming their batting order, two officers Allison didn’t know had to take their turns first. The first made it to base and the second struck out. Then it was Lieutenant McCorkle’s turn to go.

Allison held her breath. He wasn’t as good as Jack, Gray or Wes. His chances of hitting the ball and taking a base were just as good as his chances of striking out.

He swung and missed. Then did it again. They already had one out. They couldn’t afford another so early in the inning. Unfortunately, that is exactly what happened. Lieutenant McCorkle swung and missed for a third time in a row.

“
You’re out,” the scorekeeper shouted.

Allison breathed a sigh of relief.  Jack was next, then Gray. Both of whom wouldn’t have a problem getting at least one base.

Which they each did, leaving a man on every base when it was Wes’ turn again. Before she could question what anyone might think of her, she shouted and cheered with the rest as he walked from the line toward the bat.

But he didn’t stop at the bat. He kept walking—straight in her direction.

She stopped cheering and knit her brows. “Wes, is something wrong?” she asked as he approached.

“Sure is.” He closed his hands around her waist and lifted her off the barrel.

“
Wes, what’s going on?”

“
You’re going to play.”

Allison dug her heels into the ground. The score was tied, and if the group of spectators were to be believed, this was the last time the officers would get a chance to bat. They needed to score as many points as possible. They wouldn’t do that if someone who didn’t know how to play took a turn. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ll make your team lose.”

“Nonsense.” He pushed his bottom lip out into an overdone frown. “And if you do make us lose, who cares? It’s just a game.”

She scoffed. “One that apparently is taken very seriously around here to hear these men cheer.”

“Are you coming to take your turn, Wes? It’s starting to rain,” called one of the officers.

“
Oh, give him a minute,” Gray hollered. “He has to get a kiss for luck so he can hit another ball a mile out.”

“
Carry on, then,” the first officer yelled, leading Allison’s cheeks to burn despite the rain that was now sprinkling down on all of them.

“
Shall you join me, or will I have to forfeit my turn and make us lose?” Wes asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“
Will you help me?”

Wes’ eyes did a slow sweep of her body, sending tingles down her spine as they went. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Allison licked her lips and allowed Wes to escort her to where the she’d have her turn to bat the ball.

Ignoring the shouts from all of the men, demanding to know what was going on, Wes picked up the bat with one hand, then used his other hand to turn her how he wanted her to stand.