Elizabeth wrapped her arms around him. “Oh, Thomas, I hope I have been a good wife to you,” she whispered, her voice quivering.
“I could not have asked for a better,” he said. “It was you I was waiting for, all those years of bachelorhood, I guess,” he added, stroking her hair gently.
Supplies were brought to the fort once a month from Albuquerque. A troop from the fort always met the quartermaster’s wagons part of the way and escorted them the last forty miles.
Thomas had been assigned escort duty six months after they had arrived and Elizabeth had always dreaded it since it kept him away for days at a time. The last few months had been easier, though, with Orion to keep her company. But with the recent reports of Navajo raids, Elizabeth felt an anxiety that went beyond her usual dislike of being alone.
On the morning of Thomas’s next scheduled departure, she tried to keep it from him as she bustled around, making the coffee and heating up the skillet for his bacon and eggs. She was so distracted, however, that the bowl in which she was scrambling the eggs slipped out of her hands and shattered on the floor.
“No, Orion, no,” she yelled as the dog started to lap up the frothy mess. “Thomas, hold him please. He’ll cut his tongue on the slivers from the bowl.”
Thomas was used to Elizabeth’s mood on these mornings, but her voice was more strained than usual. After he had pulled Orion away and put him on his line, he placed his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Get up, Elizabeth, and let me clean that.”
“I’ve almost got it all, Thomas. But that was the last egg,” she moaned.
“Just fry me up some bacon and I’ll be fine.”
“Don’t get egg on your trousers, Thomas,” she said sharply as he carried the pieces of pottery over to the scrap bucket.
Thomas grinned. She sure was in a flurry this morning. He hated to leave her in this state, but there was nothing he could do about it.
“Damnation!”
If he hadn’t been so concerned, he would have laughed out loud, for his wife
never
swore.
“What is it, Lizzie?”
“You know I hate it when you call me that, Thomas. I just got my sleeve caught on the skillet handle and almost pulled it off the stove.”
“But you didn’t,” he said reassuringly.
“No, I didn’t,” she said sharply, irritated by his patience.
“Why don’t you sit down and let me cook,” he offered.
“The least I can do before you start out on such a long ride is cook your breakfast, Thomas. I promise you, I’ll have it on the table in a moment. Unless you’re in too much of a hurry to wait?”
“No, Elizabeth, I am in no hurry,” he said calmly and sat down at the table.
Elizabeth’s eyes stung with grease smoke and tears as she flipped the bacon. Whatever was
wrong
with her? Thomas had made many of these trips. They were routine. Why was she as jumpy as those drops of bacon grease that kept spitting up at her?
She took a deep breath as she arranged his plate, buttering a third slice of corn bread hot from the oven. It seemed a scanty breakfast without the eggs.
“Here you are, Thomas,” she said, sitting down next to him, and thinking she had herself under control when he looked over at her and she burst into tears.
“Elizabeth!”
“Oh, Thomas, I don’t want you to go this time.”
“It is the same boring detail, my dear, forty miles out and forty back.”
“But you have been doing it while things were peaceful, Thomas. This last raid was only a day’s ride from here.”
“Elizabeth,” he said reassuringly, “the Navajo have never attacked a supply train and they aren’t going to start now. Not with a full troop of men meeting it. I’ll only be gone a few days and I want you to promise me you’ll not just sit here and fret yourself.”
Elizabeth wiped her face with her napkin. “You are right, Thomas. I am being silly. It is just that…. I know I always hate it when you go, but this feels different.”
“It is perfectly understandable you’d be upset. But Orion will be here to keep you company and you’ll have tea with Mrs. Gray and you’ll be fine.”
Thomas spoke to her in the tone he always used: quiet, reassuring, almost fatherly. It had always calmed her fears before and made her feel protected by his strength. This morning, however, it was only adding to her irritability. She knew she was being irrational, for he was only being the Thomas she had loved and relied on all these years. But she didn’t want his quiet tolerance of her fear. She didn’t want him soothing her like a fearful child. She wanted…she didn’t know
what
she wanted from him, she realized.
She was annoyed at herself for her extreme reaction and annoyed at him for not seeing that it really
wasn’t
extreme. Any woman would be worried about her husband going on such a patrol. And just because she was feeling vulnerable didn’t mean she was going to fall apart.
Thomas pushed himself away from the table, saying, “It is time I must be going, Elizabeth.”
“I know, Thomas. I will be fine. Truly I will,” she reassured him. She followed him to the door and held his jacket for him as she had so many times before.
“Elizabeth, you feed me too well. You’ll have to let this jacket out when I come home,” he joked as he struggled with the buttons.
Elizabeth put her hands on his chest and he pulled her into his arms.
“Don’t worry, Elizabeth. I’ll be home safe and sound as always.”
“I know, Thomas. I’m just being silly. Now go, before your men start wondering where you are.”
He ran down the steps and she watched him quick march down the line. Just as he was about to turn the corner, he turned back and waved to her. She blew him a kiss and then went back inside. She had dishes to wash, bread to bake, and a stack of mending that should keep her busy. If she could get through today, she thought, she would be all right.
* * * *
Two days before the supply escort was to leave, Michael had been summoned to Lieutenant Cooper’s quarters.
“Colonel Gray has informed me that two of Mr. Woolcott’s men are down with dysentery. He requested you be assigned to the lieutenant with a man of your choice,” said Cooper coolly.
“Yes, sir.”
“Whom will you choose, Burke?”
“Em, Mahoney has the potential for becoming a fine soldier, sir, but he could use a little seasoning.”
“All right then, Sergeant, inform Private Mahoney. And, Burke….”
“Yes, sir?”
“You’ll be back on wood detail as soon as this is over.”
“Yes, sir.”
* * * *
Michael had decided to ride Frost. The mare was restless in the cool morning air and Michael had to keep her on a tight rein as they headed out of the fort.
“That mare looks ready for another race, sir.” Mahoney grinned. He was riding next to Michael and his gelding was merely plodding along.
“ ‘Tis the cooler weather that makes her full of fire,” replied Michael.
“She’s a fine animal.”
“That she is, Mahoney.”
Frost settled down soon enough and their first day’s ride was a fairly easy one. They would meet the supply wagons by morning and had seen no sign of anyone, Navajo or New Mexican.
They reached the rendezvous point, a small group of cottonwoods by a stream, early the next day and the lieutenant let them dismount and relax. When two hours went by, however, with no sign of the supply wagons, Lieutenant Woolcott called Michael over to him.
“Sergeant Burke, I’m worried about the supply train. The quartermaster is always on time, within a quarter hour.”
Michael nodded. “What are ye thinking, sir?”
“I’m thinking it could be as simple as an axle breaking or a mule going lame….” Thomas’s voice trailed off.
“ ‘Tis possible.”
“Or they could have been attacked. It has never happened before, but with a band of renegades on the loose….” Thomas took a deep breath. “You have the reputation for being a good scout, Burke. I’m glad you rode that big horse of yours. She’s fast and strong, from what I’ve seen at the races,” Thomas said with a smile.
“She is that, sir.”
“I’d like you to scout ahead for me.” Thomas hesitated. “Ride about an hour and see if you come upon any sign of the wagons. If you don’t, then turn around and come back.”
“And if I do catch up with them?”
“Report back in any case, Sergeant Burke.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And watch out for yourself, Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Michael set out at a slow, steady canter. He had always enjoyed his scouting, because it gave him a chance to be alone, and that was a rare treat in the army. After fifteen minutes, he walked Frost and then kicked her into a ground-eating trot. The mare would be able to keep the pace up for about a half hour.
It was only fifteen minutes later that he saw them. One wagon was overturned and the other three had been drawn into a semicircle next to it.
“
Día
,” he whispered and pulled the mare to a walk. He couldn’t see any signs of life. He walked the mare slowly, his reins in one hand, his rifle in the other.
He heard a low, constant moaning and, dismounting carefully, he led Frost over to the wagons.
There were two enlisted men lying there. They were dead, one with an arrow through his throat, the other shot in the chest. The moaning was coming from behind one of the wagons, and Michael walked over carefully. The Diné usually took their wounded with them, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
But it was a soldier, propped up against a wheel, his hand holding a cocked pistol balanced on his knee.
“Easy, boyo,” said Michael as the man turned at the sound of his feet.
Blood was puddled under the boy’s outstretched leg and as he shifted to face Michael, he let out a loud groan.
Michael knelt down next to him and saw that he had been shot through the knee with a rifle. Shattered, he thought. This lad won’t be riding again. He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t lose the leg.
“What happened, lad?”
The hand holding the pistol relaxed. “It was a good-sized band, about twenty or so. On their way back from a raid. They had two women with them. I don’t think they planned to attack us, just took advantage of the opportunity.”
“Where are the rest of your party?”
“The master sergeant headed back to Albuquerque for help.”
“You are a brave lad, then, to be guarding the wagons on your own.”
The boy licked his cracked lips. “Do you have any water, sir?”
“Sure, and what have I been thinking, chatting away like I’m at a tea party,” Michael joked. “I’ll be right back.”
He got his canteen and kneeling down again beside the boy, gave him a few sips.
“More,” the boy pleaded, his hands reaching for Michael’s.
“In a minute, lad.”
After a few more swallows, the boy closed his eyes and relaxed his head back against the wheel.
“I am going to have to leave you, Private.”
The boy’s eyes flew open and he started to protest.
“I’d take you with me, was it your arm shattered. But you shouldn’t be moved with that leg. But I’ll leave ye my canteen. Ye must promise to drink sparingly, for ye’ll have to hold out till I come back with the escort or your sergeant brings help.”
“Yes, sir.”
Michael patted him gently on the arm. “Ye’ll be fine, lad. They’ll not come back. Ye’ve got some water and ye’re in the shadow of the wagon, at least.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll be fine sir,” said the boy, as if repeating Michael’s words would make them be true.
“Well, then, I must be leavin’ ye.”
He mounted Frost and headed back toward Lieutenant Woolcott. He had seen no sign of the Diné. Of course, they were very good at keeping out of sight. But if they turned south at all they would ran right into the escort.
Frost was eager to get away from the smell of blood and the flies buzzing around the dead bodies. “No ye don’t, darlin’,” he said, holding her back. “I’m as eager as ye are but we can’t be stupid either.”
It seemed to take forever to reach the little grove of cottonwoods and when he finally got there, it was to find only half the detail.
“Where is Mr. Woolcott?” he demanded as he slid off his horse.
“A band of them savages passed right by us. They were as surprised to see us as we were to see them,” the trooper added, nodding his satisfaction. “They took off like bats out of hell and the lieutenant took off after them. One of them was wearing a cavalry cap and leading two army shavetails loaded with supplies. We figured they’d gotten the wagons and maybe even you.”
“And the lieutenant’s orders?”
“To wait here until evening and if he wasn’t back, to return to the fort.”
Michael looked around. “Did Mahoney go with him?”
“The mick kid? Yup, he volunteered.”
Lieutenant Woolcott had only half the men the Diné had, thought Michael. But maybe the Diné would just run. Maybe they would do their usual disappearing act. Maybe the lieutenant would just turn back. Goddamn all renegades to hell, thought Michael as he led Frost down to the little stream.
* * * *
It was close to sundown when he saw the dust of the approaching riders. There were nine horses, not ten, and Michael could see that one was carrying double. Please God, ‘tisn’t Mahoney down, he found himself praying, surprised at how much he would miss the lad.
It wasn’t Mahoney down, he saw, but Mahoney in the lead with the lieutenant slumped in front of him. The boy’s eyes widened with relief when he saw Michael.
“He’s been gut-shot, Sergeant Burke. I think he’s still alive, but just barely.”
“Over here,” barked Michael to one of the men. “Help me with him.”
Thomas Woolcott was a heavy man and it was hard taking him down gently. Michael barked orders, “Spread a few blankets out. Fill a canteen,” as he carried the lieutenant to the most level spot he could find.
Mahoney had ripped apart Woolcott’s jacket and bound him with it. It was soaked in blood, but Michael was afraid to loosen it. Tell the truth, boyo, ye’re afraid to look. He had seen men on the battlefield with their guts hanging out. He had even watched an army surgeon fold them back in again and sew a man up. He had been ordered to hold the lantern and it was lucky the tent didn’t go up in flames when he’d fainted.