Michael had to grab her hand to get her moving, but he wanted her inside and not exposed to the ridicule of whoever might come along.
He dropped the puppy into the nearest empty stall and turned back to Elizabeth.
“Here, sit down, ma’am,” he said, guiding her to a bale of hay.
She let him push her down. Looking up at him, her chin quivering, she held out the blouse. “Look at this, Sergeant. Ruined. Like Thomas’s slippers. And my best bonnet.”
“And there was also that wee bite out of Mr. Woolcott’s hat, don’t forget,” teased Michael gently.
He had hoped she would laugh, but instead, the tears poured down. “Thomas will kill me,” she sobbed.
“Mr. Woolcott has always seemed an understanding and devoted husband,” said Michael, comforting her as best he could.
“You are right. He is the best of men. He’ll kill the puppy!”
And Mahoney and Fiske will be richer by a week’s pay, thought Michael.
“And I will help Thomas,” she added, anger mixed with the despair in her voice. “I am a complete failure with the dog.”
“Now, now, Mrs. Woolcott, ye still have time.”
“But I don’t know what to do,” she wailed. “I’ve told and told him that he is a ‘bad dog’ when he does something wrong, but it doesn’t seem to work.”
“Puppies…all animals, need to know who is the master or mistress, as the case may be, ma’am. They are not very intelligent, after all, and need our guidance.”
“He is a very smart dog, I’ll have you know, Sergeant!”
Michael smiled at her instant defense of the little ‘bastard.’
“I am sure he is, ma’am. Smart enough to know how to wheedle his way around you. But not smart enough to know how to stop on his own. You need to be firm, Mrs. Woolcott.”
“I’m ready to be firm, now, Sergeant, I can tell you,” she said, the anger taking over again.
“Em, surely there is something in between ‘bad dog’ and ‘ye little bastard’?” Michael did an excellent imitation of Elizabeth’s most proper tones and her screeching, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or be angry. It was safer to be angry.
“A gentleman would not remind a lady of her unfortunate lapse into vulgarity, Sergeant.”
“Ah, but I am neither an officer nor a gentleman, am I, Mrs. Woolcott? Just a dirty, ignorant Irishman,” said Michael, stung into replying with anger too. Here he was, trying to help the damn woman and she went right back to her eastern snobbery.
Elizabeth heard the anger, and also the pain behind it. Had she actually called him that to his face? She was sure not, but had thought it often enough about him and others at the fort. Yet what had Sergeant Burke ever done but be helpful to her? He was neither dirty or ignorant, but a good-looking man and a respected noncommissioned officer. He was known to be a talented scout, yet he had taken on the wood detail with great dignity and commanded his small troop of four as though they were a company. Most at the fort respected and liked him and here she was holding on to phrases that had been taught to her years ago. It was hard to let go of them, she realized as she struggled to make her perceptions fit the stereotype that had been handed to her. Something deep inside her had shaken loose and she felt like she had drifted away from a mooring. If all the Irish weren’t dirty or ignorant, then what of all the other things she had learned and held on to over the years?
“I am sorry, Sergeant Burke,” she said in a low, shaking voice. “You have never acted anything but the gentleman with me. It is just that I was taught to be a lady and my language and behavior were certainly not ladylike. I felt utterly humiliated and took it out on you.”
Michael had felt annoyed by Mrs. Woolcott and very attracted to her, but he hadn’t really liked her, he realized, until that moment. She could have continued to take refuge in rank and background. But she had chosen to make herself more vulnerable and he respected her for that.
“Only a real lady would have the courage to admit her weakness, Mrs. Woolcott. I appreciate and accept your apology,” Michael responded formally.
“Thank you, Sergeant Burke.” Elizabeth looked up at him and felt that inner shift again. He was looking at her with warmth and appreciation. It was different from Thomas’s loving glances. Thomas made her feel cared for and protected. It was also different from Mr. Cooper’s appraising gaze. From him she felt only a kind of hunger and no acknowledgment of her individuality at all. But Sergeant Burke was looking at her as a human being who had done something worthy of his respect. It felt strange, but also very good, to receive that from a man.
As Michael looked down at her, he had to put his hands behind his back to keep from reaching out and pushing a strand of hair away from her face. He cleared his throat and said, “Now, Mrs. Woolcott, you must decide if you are going to keep this little terror….”
“I am, Sergeant,” said Elizabeth with a hint of defiance in her voice.
“Let me finish. Keep this little terror in line,” he added. “He is in the army too, ye know, and has to learn to follow orders.”
“Yes, Sergeant. I understand, Sergeant,” said Elizabeth in a good imitation of a young recruit.
“First of all, does the wee bugger have a name?”
“I haven’t been able to think of one that feels right. Although Satan is beginning to seem very appropriate,” she added with a smile.
“We have to give him a name to live up to,” said Michael. “A name to be proud of. Now, his mama is a hunting dog. What do you think of Orion?”
“Orion the Hunter.” Elizabeth thought about it for a minute. “It seems like a very big name for such a small troublemaker.”
“Sure and it is a name he’ll have to grow into, but that’s precisely my point.”
“I think I like it, Sergeant.”
Michael chuckled.
“What is so funny, Sergeant Burke?”
“When I first got to New York, I only knew the names of the constellations in Irish. The first time I heard of Orion the Hunter I thought to meself: now isn’t that marvelous, to be namin’ a constellation after an Irishman.”
“An Irishman, Sergeant?”
“Sure and I thought it was O’Ryan, Mrs. Woolcott,” he explained as he spelled it out.
Elizabeth laughed. “It is funny, isn’t it, how we can hear and read things. I remember once when I was in school and someone spilled hot soup all over the lunch table. I said, in my most sophisticated voice—I was so proud to be able to use the word in conversation—What a
cat
astrophe! Instead of what a ca
tas
trophe. And I wondered why the teacher laughed.”
“You must teach him his name right away,” said Michael. “And what have ye been doin’ to him when he misbehaves?”
“Talking to him. Rather gently, until today!”
“There must be truth and consequences for him, Mrs. Woolcott. If he gets into mischief, out he goes. Does he have a leash or a pen?”
“No, I wanted him to have his freedom.”
“He’ll have more freedom in the long run if he also has a little discipline. Ye can say all the sweet things you want to him when he does something right But when he disobeys, then you must speak sharply and put him outside. And don’t be telling him the same thing over and over without making him do it. If ye want him to sit, ye just press that little bottom of his down while ye’re saying it.”
“That is just what Thomas has been telling me,” Elizabeth admitted. “And what he does with the dog himself. I am the one who has been spoiling him.”
“He’s not spoiled yet. I am sure you will do a fine job with him. Think of it as forming a partnership with him.”
Michael walked over to the stall and, opening the door, lifted the puppy out. “He’s tired himself out, creating such a brouhaha,” said Michael with a grin. “He’ll sleep tonight.”
“You are a devil,” Elizabeth said to the puppy, “but a sweet little devil.” The little dog had sunk so affectionately against her shoulder that she couldn’t resist dropping a kiss on the top of his head.
Michael cleared his throat.
“Oh, yes, Orion, I am taking you home.” She giggled. “It sounds so formal, Sergeant.”
Michael had a hard time resisting the impulse to drop a kiss on Mrs. Woolcott’s head. Her giggle had made her sound like a carefree young girl instead of the reserved officer’s wife he had encountered up until now. He remembered the story he had heard about her family. Maybe her primness was as much a result of that tragedy as of her schooling in the East. Maybe she hadn’t had much chance to be a carefree young girl before becoming a woman.
“He’ll grow into it, ma’am.” They were at the stable door and Michael stepped back to let Elizabeth through. She turned and gave him a grateful smile.
“Thank you very much for your help, Sergeant Burke.”
“Don’t ye forget the lieutenant’s blouse,” said Michael, handing it to her.
Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “I hope I can get the smell out of it.”
“Ye’ll do a fine job on the shirt and the dog, ma’am,” said Michael, and he gave her a quick bow and walked off to the corral.
When Thomas got home that night, the puppy was nowhere to be seen and his wife was sitting by the sitting room lamp, sewing buttons on his best blouse.
“I heard there was a little problem with the puppy today, Lizzie.”
Elizabeth lifted her face and said with tart humor, “I am sure the whole fort was aware of it, Thomas.”
He couldn’t help grinning. “And where is the little troublemaker?”
“He is outside on a line, Thomas. And he will stay there tonight.”
“A line?”
“Yes, I had Private Stack help me rig one up near the back door. Orion must learn that certain things are off limits to him.”
“Orion?” Thomas was tempted to laugh, but his wife looked so delightfully responsible and serious that he controlled himself.
“Sergeant Burke convinced me that he needed a name to inspire him. He was very helpful to me today, Thomas. The line was his idea.”
“Sergeant Burke is a very competent man,” Thomas agreed. Whatever Burke had said, he was grateful. Maybe their little household would be peaceful and sane again.
* * * *
It didn’t happen overnight, but within a month Elizabeth and Orion had both learned who was to be in charge. The dog responded to his name, he would sit and stay on command, and the next thing she was determined to do was to teach him to heel when she was walking with him and to keep a safe distance from her horse when she went out riding. When the dog was old enough, it would be wonderful to have him around for protection and would enable her to ride out a little farther from the fort.
Antonio and Serena had not been to the fort the last few weeks, and Elizabeth was hoping that this coming Sunday she would see her friend again. It surprised her a little how close she felt to the Navajo woman. She got along well with the other officers’ wives, but she had never allowed them to get too close, with the exception of the colonel’s wife.
One reason was that in the army, people were coming and going all the time. She had been reluctant to form a close friendship, only to have it broken by a transfer to another post. Thomas was the constant in her life, and the person she was most willing to share herself with.
Serena’s weaving had drawn her first. Then, as they both began to trust one another, she realized that she liked the Navajo woman very much. She tried to tell herself that it was foolishness: she and Thomas could be reassigned at any time, the peace between their people was very fragile, and even if it weren’t, the differences between them were too great. But she was drawn to the combination of Serena’s dignity and salty humor.
There were no races this Sunday, but quite a few Navajo came in to trade anyway. Elizabeth was happy to see Serena among the women and walked over with Orion on his leash by her side. Or almost by her side. The dog was curious about everything, and Elizabeth could tell he would have liked nothing better than to grab one of the women’s blankets and chew it to pieces. But she spoke to him firmly and sat him down when he wandered away and finally made it to where her friend was sitting.
“I see you have been taking good care of that little dog,” said Serena.
“Well, I am not sure who is leading whom today but he is growing big and fat, isn’t he? I am glad to see you, Serena. I missed you these past few weeks.”
“We were visiting with my uncle near Chinle. We always go at peach harvest time.”
“Peaches!” Elizabeth’s mouth watered. She hadn’t had fresh fruit in she didn’t know how long.
“I brought you some,” said Serena with a smile. “They are newly dried, so there is still a little juice in them.” Serena handed Elizabeth a soft buckskin bag fastened by a bone bead and decorated with fringe. Elizabeth reached in and pulled out a dried peach. It was still a little plump, and while she chewed she could imagine the juices it would have held when it was fresh-picked. “Oh, this is just too good,” she said with a delighted smile as she handed the bag back.
“No, no, those are for you and your husband.”
“All these peaches?”
“There are hundreds of trees,” said Serena with a smile.
“Then I’ll have to wrap them in my scarf.” She started to untie it from around her neck, when Serena stopped her.
“The bag is yours also.”
“Oh, I can’t take it. It is too lovely!”
The Navajo woman frowned. “I made it for you.” Really, the
bilagaana
were hard to understand. They were always taking, taking. But try to give them something and they acted like you had handed them a scorpion!
Elizabeth realized that once again she was on the verge of an insult. “Thank you, Serena. It is beautiful and I will use it when I go riding.”
Her friend nodded and then suddenly turned her attention to the sutler’s wife, who was fingering one of her blankets.
Elizabeth stood there, not sure whether she should stay or go. When Mrs. Grant had completed her trade and left, Elizabeth said quietly, “I am sorry, my friend. It is a habit among us to protest a gift. And it is hard for me to accept something that lovely, with nothing to give you.”
“Do all gifts have to be like trade?” Serena asked with great curiosity.