The Dawn of a Dream (25 page)

The landlady rested her hands on her hips and frowned. “Why would you want someone else? You’re blessed to have Leah close by. Allenwood’s not exactly spilling over with women willing to nurse another woman’s child.”

Luellen paced the kitchen, jiggling David in her arms. She lifted her voice to be heard over his cries. “She doesn’t like me. I’m afraid she’ll take her feelings out on David.”

“My word. Aren’t you letting your imagination run away with you?” She fitted a silver thimble over her finger and lifted a napkin from her mending basket. With expert precision, her veined hands worked a needle through a rip in one corner of the fabric.

“It’s not my imagination. You should have heard how she spoke to me.”

“I’m not talking about whether or not she likes you—although I wonder why she was hostile. She’s a dear girl.” The needle flashed in the light that spilled through the open rear door. “I mean your imagining that Leah would be unkind to David. I know her. I’d trust her with my own flesh and blood if the need arose. As far as whether she likes you or not, that’s up to you, isn’t it?”

Shamed, Luellen sat. David stopped wailing and relaxed against her, one hand clutching her sleeve, his mouth soft on her neck. She hugged him close, loving the sensation of his curls against her cheek. What Mrs. Hawks said made sense. Somehow she’d have to overcome her unfortunate first meeting with Leah. She had no choice at the moment.

Late that evening, Luellen lay in bed listening to her baby’s steady breathing. Tired as she was, her mind wouldn’t settle down to sleep. David. Monday’s examination. Classes. She swung her feet to the floor and padded over to the bureau where she kept her writing materials.

Once in the kitchen, she laid several sheets of paper on the table, along with a pen and bottle of ink. The stove ticked as the fire retreated to glowing coals. Luellen lowered the lamp on its chain and touched a lucifer to the wick. Yellow light flared over the work surface. She sank into a chair, her hair falling over her shoulders.

Dear Ward,

She paused. Should she burden him with her discouragement, or spin a tale of a successful transition back to Allenwood?

Luellen dipped the pen and wrote.

Ward stood at the north border of the post, his mind on the letter he’d received from Luellen. She was having as much trouble as he adjusting to an altered life. How could he encourage her when he found each day a struggle?

Footsteps crackled in the dry grass. He pivoted, wary.

“Didn’t expect to find you here.” Sergeant Grover’s face stretched in a thin-lipped grimace. “Thought this was the last place you’d want to visit.”

“Just out for a walk.”

“Don’t look like it to me, sir. I been watching you for a spell. You ain’t moved a twitch.”

Cicadas chirred in the clearing outside the north gate. The sumac wore late-summer burgundy leaves and red fruit clusters. When he squinted, Ward imagined the ragged hole his bullet had torn through the dense shrubs. He thrust out his jaw. “If you’ve got nothing better to do than follow me around, I can assign you some duties.”

“No, sir. I don’t need no more duties.”

“Then I suggest you get back to work.”

“Yes, sir. But first I got something to say.”

Ward folded his arms across his chest. “You have one minute, Sergeant.”

The gangly soldier stepped closer. He held his hands open at his sides. “I want to thank you for not reporting me to Captain Block. I’d of been discharged too, and I need the Army pay. There’s no work back home.”

“No need for thanks. The sooner this whole affair is forgotten, the better.”

“Yes, sir.” Grover saluted. “For an officer, you’re all right. I don’t care what nobody says.” He turned and ambled back toward the post.

Ward tracked his retreat, asking himself the question he’d asked since he returned to Jefferson Barracks. What drew him out here every day?

He squared his shoulders, wincing when his left side twinged. Campion’s discharge tormented him. All his what-ifs couldn’t change the outcome of that March morning. He tried to imagine how he’d feel, as a West Point graduate, if he were forced to leave the Army. Wherever he went, the stigma would follow.

Ward carried his own stigma—not that of being forced to leave the Army, but of being allowed to stay. He lifted his chin. So be it. He strode across the parade ground and entered a closed-off area on the first floor of the officers’ quarters. He’d rather be on a survey assignment, not stuck in an airless classroom.

Feet shuffled as a dozen noncommissioned officers straightened in their chairs.

“Gentlemen.” Ward drew a copy of Mahan’s
Out-Post
from the bookshelf behind his desk. “I trust you’ve familiarized yourselves with today’s passage.”

“Over and over, sir,” said one of the students. “Do you really think Napoleon has anything to teach us?” His voice was one note below insolent.

“You’re soldiers. You never know when you may be called upon to lead in battle. My job is to relay tactics I learned at the Academy.”

The men watched him, expressions cold. From the back of the room, he heard a loud whisper. “Tactics must be how he got Lieutenant Campion discharged.”

Ward drew himself up to his full height. “I’m sorry, Sergeant. I didn’t hear you. Would you mind repeating your remark?”

The man stood, hooded eyes defiant. “It ain’t worth repeating, sir. A mere observation.”

“Observation means something you’ve seen.” Ward walked around his desk and glared at the soldier. “Tell us what you’ve
seen
regarding the lieutenant’s untimely departure from the post.” He fought to keep anger from his voice.

The sergeant’s eyes shifted away from Ward’s face. “I never saw nothing, sir.”

“How about the rest of you? Anything to contribute to the discussion?”

The wall clock ticked in the silence.

“I’m only going to say this once.” Ward planted his feet apart and stood with hands clasped behind his back. His voice boomed over the men. “Lieutenant Campion got himself discharged for breaking several Army regulations. I’m sorry it happened. From this day on, I don’t want to hear another word about him, either in my classroom or on the field. Is that understood?”

Heads bobbed.

He cupped a hand behind his ear. “I can’t hear you.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good. Class dismissed. Be back here tomorrow ready to work.”

After the men left, Ward tucked his copy of
Out-Post
under his arm and left the room. Angry with himself for losing his temper, he stalked toward the stairway leading to the second floor. His image of a perfect officer was one who remained calm in all circumstances. He shook his head.
You’ve got a ways to go, Calder.

When he passed the mail slots in the hallway, he noticed an envelope in his box. His mood lifted. Another letter from Luellen so soon would be a bright spot in a brutal day.

He plucked the message from the slot and stared at the envelope, disappointed. Standing in front of the boxes, he read a summons to Block’s office for late that afternoon. He shook his head. It wasn’t possible that news of his classroom outburst had reached headquarters already. What did the captain want?

The door to the headquarters building opened and a dark-haired woman emerged, carrying an infant. Sunlight glinted off the gold frames of her glasses.

Ward held his breath. Could Luellen have come all this way to seek him out? He stood bolted in place, unprepared for the surge of joy that filled him. That’s why Block had summoned him—to tell him he had a visitor.

The woman hurried in his direction on the stone pathway. Ward swept his hat from his head and felt a grin spread across his face. “Lu—”

When she was twenty feet away, he realized she was a stranger, probably the wife of one of the other officers. She looked at him curiously as she passed.

“Ma’am.” He clapped his hat on, hoping his embarrassment wasn’t obvious. Head down, he walked to the headquarters entrance, berating himself all the way. What was the matter with him? He couldn’t allow himself to become attached to Luellen McGarvie. Her plans didn’t include marriage and neither did his.

Once inside the stale-smelling building, Ward turned down the corridor leading to the commander’s office. He drew himself to full attention when he entered.

Captain Block swiveled around in his chair. “At ease, Lieutenant. Have a seat.”

“Thank you, sir.” Ward sat, resting his hat on his lap.

“You’ve had a rough few months since you returned. How’s the shoulder?”

“Better, thank you.”

“And your dealings with the men on the post? I understand there’s been some resistance to your presence here.”

Sweat prickled his forehead. “I’m working to overcome that, sir.”

The captain nodded, shuffling through a stack of papers on the corner of his desk. Finding the one he wanted, he laid the sheet in front of him. “Feel like you could handle yourself on a plains assignment?”

“Another survey? I look forward to the opportunity.”

“Not a survey this time.” He turned the paper around and Ward saw it was a map. Captain Block put his thick index finger on a point near the center of the page, and traced a line from left to right. “You’re looking at the Smoky Hill Trail in Kansas Territory. Six years ago the Army established Fort Hook here.” He indicated a circle drawn on the map.

Ward waited. The captain disliked being rushed.

“Your orders arrived this morning.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Orders, sir?”

“You’re being transferred to Fort Hook—as post commander.”

Ward’s mouth dropped open. “I’m only a lieutenant.”

“Not any longer. I recommended you for a captaincy.” Captain Block lifted an envelope from his desk. “Here’s the approval.”

Stunned, Ward leaned back in his chair.

The captain’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “You’re an outstanding soldier, Calder. Dedicated. Reliable. This post will suit you.”

“Sir, after everything that’s happened, how could you possibly—”

“You know how slow the Army can be. I sent my recommendation right after the first of the year. What occurred this spring has no bearing on these orders.” He leaned back in his chair, hands braced against the edge of the desktop. “You’re not turning them down, are you?”

“No, sir. Thank you, sir.” He straightened his shoulders. “When am I to leave?”

“You’re to report on New Year’s Day, so you’ve got three months to prepare.”

Swamped by conflicting thoughts, Ward left the commander’s office and walked toward the officers’ quarters. He wished his father had lived to see this moment. His ambitions for Ward were embodied in the designation of post commander.

Ward could picture his father’s excitement upon hearing the news—sightless eyes filled with tears, face wreathed in a broad smile. He could almost feel the strong arms pounding his back.

“You’re the reason I’ve worked so hard,” he said to the memory. “This is for you.”

A passing soldier saluted, looking puzzled, and Ward realized he’d spoken aloud. He returned the salute, slowing his steps as the impact of the promotion washed over him. Kansas Territory. Instead of one long day’s train ride, he’d be nearly a week away from Beldon Grove. No railroads. Barely a trail in places. Mail service unreliable.

How would he tell Luellen? Would she care?

Luellen woke at the first suggestion of daybreak on Monday. She tiptoed to the kitchen and fed wood into the cookstove, then broke eggs into a large bowl. A pan of ham custard should satisfy the boarders’ breakfast needs for this one morning. Mrs. Hawks hadn’t been pleased at the idea of Luellen departing early, so she wanted to leave nothing undone prior to taking David to Leah.

She gave a mental shiver at the idea of facing an unhappy Leah on the heels of leaving an equally unhappy Mrs. Hawks. After this morning’s examination, the days should smooth out.

Once Luellen had assembled the minced ham, torn bread, and eggs, she slid the combined breakfast in the oven to bake. The clock on the wall ticked toward six.

She hurried into her bedroom. David lay on his back in the crib, arms flung outward, eyes closed. Luellen stroked his hair off his forehead. He stirred, smiling and lifting his arms when he saw her.

Luellen swung him from the crib, nuzzling his soft cheeks. After changing his diaper and slipping a fresh gown over his head, she sat to nurse him.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Hawks stopped by the open door. “Are you minding the clock? Don’t you have to be at the school by seven?”

“What time is it?” She held David at her shoulder, patting his back.

“Going on six thirty.”

“Oh, mercy.” Luellen scrambled to her feet, grabbing her portfolio and David’s blanket on her way out.

The sun hovered below the horizon, its glow forming a crescent in the early morning haze. She sprinted across the street and pounded up the back steps of Mrs. Garmon’s house. The fragrance of baked apples drifted toward her when Leah responded to her knock. She thrust David into the other woman’s waiting arms, thanked her, and dashed down the steps.

“When will you be back?” Leah called.

Luellen paused. “Dinnertime. I’ll have almost an hour—that is if I pass this examination. Otherwise—” She shook her head. “Much sooner than that.”

Leah’s impassive expression didn’t change. “Good luck.” The words sounded perfunctory.

“Thank you.” She matched Leah’s tone.

She entered the administration building as the chapel bell tolled seven. Mrs. Hale had her hand on the latch preparatory to closing the door of the testing room when Luellen slipped inside. Several students sat at the tables, men on the right, women on the left. She didn’t recognize anyone she knew. So she wasn’t the only person asking for favors.

She took a seat and waited while the proctor sorted through papers on her desk, evidently seeking the appropriate examination for each student. She dropped a page covered with letters and symbols in front of Luellen. “You have an hour to complete these equations. Use the extra sheet to show your work.” She walked among the other tables, leaving pages along with instructions.

Luellen filled her lungs, exhaled slowly, and lifted her pencil. Weeks of study. An hour to get everything on paper. She shoved her fingers into the hair at her temples and focused on the first set.

Pencils scratched and chairs creaked as students bent over their work. Mrs. Hale padded up and down the aisle, ready to pounce on anyone caught cheating.