The Major's Wife. Lauri Robinson
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focused on keeping up with Seth’s long strides. Once they entered the building a man as large as a bear, with hair as yellow as corn, met them at the door.
“Mrs. Parker,” he said, dipping his head. “My name’s Briggs Ryan. Private Cutter said you like tea, no?”
“Yes, yes, I like tea,” she responded.
“Good. Ja, I have some for you. This way.”
As wonderful as the tea sounded, she couldn’t help but pause at the way Seth stiffened at her side. He didn’t take a step to follow the man, so she didn’t, either.
“I set a table for you and your wife, Major,” the man said, “as usual when we have company.”
There appeared to be some kind of showdown between the two, and Millie had to believe she was the cause of it. “I’m not really company,” she said, hoping to ease the tension.
Neither man spoke, but after another quiet moment, Seth nodded his head slightly. He then took ahold of her elbow and led her across the room, following Briggs Ryan.
The large room was crowded, but almost silent now as they made their way to the table. All men, dressed in their blue uniforms. Some were sitting at the long tables flanked with benches, others standing in line, filling their plates from huge platters set out on a high counter.
Mr. Ryan held a chair and she sat. The table was small and set for two, complete with a tablecloth and napkins.
“I’ll have your plates out in a minute and your tea, ma’am,” Mr. Ryan said before walking away. He, too, was wearing a uniform, but it was covered with a long white apron.
“Is Mr. Ryan the cook?”
“Yes,” Seth answered. “Keeping the unit fed is his job.”
The words seemed to hold a double meaning, but it was beyond her to understand exactly what. The man was back within minutes, placing a teapot and two plates of food—stew, not beans—in front of them.
The tea was refreshing, but it didn’t help as much as she’d hoped. Perhaps because the room held a thick silence, one that had her wondering if being alone with Seth would be better.
They, too, ate in silence, and though he didn’t gobble his food, Seth was done long before she was. At which point he pushed away from the table. “I have work to see to. I assume you can find your way back to the cabin.”
After patting her lips, she laid her napkin on the table. “I’m finished, too. May I walk out with you?”
He eyed her slowly, then gave a slight shrug. “If you want.”
She wanted, all right. The eyes staring their way had burned holes in the back of her dress. It was to be expected, her showing up out of the blue like this, yet she couldn’t help but wish things were different. That animosity didn’t ooze off of Seth.
Mr. Ryan met them at the door again. “The food was to your liking, no?”
“Oh, yes,” she assured him. “The stew was delicious. And the tea wonderful. Thank you, Mr. Ryan.”
The man grinned, but his smile faded as he glanced toward Seth.
“I’ll talk to you later, Sergeant,” Seth said.
“Yes, sir, Major, sir.”
Needing fresh air, Millie bolted out the door as soon as Seth opened it. How was she ever going to pull this off? Someone that stern, that commanding, was sure to know a lie when he heard one.
You catch a lot more bees with honey than vinegar. One of Lola’s sayings raced through her mind, and Millie couldn’t help but wonder why that one came to her now. Rosemary wasn’t known for her kindness. Then again, the saying did produce another thought. “You know, Seth,” she said, forcing her voice not to tremble, “it’s been five years. People change.”
“I haven’t,” he said.
“I’m sure you have in some ways,” she insisted, while keeping up with his fast strides again. “I know I have.” That much was the truth. Five years ago she’d never have done this: traveled to Indian Territory, taken on her sister’s identity, lied. Papa would have been alive and he wouldn’t have let her.
Seth stopped and once again studied her thoroughly. “So much that I should believe you’re Rosemary and not Millie?”
She sighed heavily, partly because lying made her feel more soiled than her travels had. “I am Rosemary.”
Seth wasn’t exactly sure how to respond. In some ways he couldn’t think. He hadn’t gotten over how a bath had transformed her into a stunningly beautiful woman, and it didn’t help that the men—his men—were already treating her like royalty. It was how he’d expect them to treat his wife, but she wasn’t his wife. Leastwise he didn’t want her to be. Never had. She’d already instigated the first-ever clash of power between him and Briggs Ryan. The cook was right. Guests, moreover women, were respected at all times at the fort, and held in the highest esteem. Making her eat at the long tables wouldn’t have been right, but Seth was in charge here, and his orders had to be followed.
Not that Briggs had disobeyed any, but he’d come close, and Seth didn’t allow any man to challenge his authority.
This time, he’d thank the man for seeing to Millie’s comforts. For that’s who she was, and what Briggs had done wasn’t out of line. Anger had overruled Seth’s own manners, but Briggs had to know he was walking a thin line. It had to be that way. If not, the entire regiment wouldn’t have lived through the past few years. Now wasn’t the time to let their guard down.
Especially not Seth.
As the thoughts conformed in his mind, and settled, his gaze roamed. Men, mingling in the courtyard, were moving closer, hoping for an introduction, no doubt. He’d have to make them, and take her over to headquarters to meet Jasper Ketchum—his second in command—and Jasper’s wife, Ilene.
Seth’s temper once again flared. He’d have to introduce her as Rosemary. Explaining his marriage had caused enough confusion. Introducing her now as Millie would have the questions deepening, and that couldn’t happen. People would wonder if he was capable of commanding a fort when he couldn’t handle his own life.
“Seth?”
Her whisper was soft, but the hand she’d laid on his arm bit through his coat and shirtsleeve, hotter than the fangs of a snake. Yet the anxiety filling her big brown eyes had his insides colliding. Whether he wanted her here or not wasn’t the issue. She was here and he had to offer his protection.
With that, he reached over and patted her hand. The action had him smothering a curse. He didn’t want to care about her, but he did care about his men. They looked at him for leadership, and true leaders did whatever it took. Nodding at the first man in line, he then glanced her way. “Rosemary...” Saying the name had disorder leaping inside him. “This is Quartermaster Josiah Fallon.” Turning toward the man, he said, “Josiah, this is Rosemary Parker, my wife.”
The word tasted bitter, and her fingertips dug deeper into his arm.
“Mrs. Parker,” Josiah exclaimed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. If there is anything you need, you just let me know and I’ll find it for you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fallon. It’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” she responded with sincerity. “Mr. Cutter and Mr. Winston told me about you.” Leaning closer, she said, “Thank you for finding the tea Mr. Briggs served with lunch.”
Fallon was as hairless as a rock, and right now the top of his head was bloodred, while he shuffled feet the size of snowshoes until a dust storm hovered around his ankles.
“Private Cutter told me you were hoping for tea,” the quartermaster replied. “I had a tin left over from when we had some English visitors a while back. I dug it out and hauled it over to the cookhouse as soon as Ben mentioned it.”
“Well,