The Officer and the Southerner (Historical Western Romance) (Fort Gibson Officers Series, Book 2) Read online

  All he had to do was reply to one of the dozens of other letters he kept stored under the false bottom in the drawer of the desk that he shared with Lieutenant McCorkle. But for some reason, he wasn’t ready to end his connection with Ella yet.

  Dear Ella,

  I have no qualms with your using my given name, as I hope it is a sign that you are giving serious thought to marrying me. I suppose because you’re giving it consideration, I should toss my pride aside and inform you of an indelicate matter. I am currently four past twenty and swiftly approaching my next birthday.

  As for my land, fear not, it is nothing that needs to be tilled, plowed, or harvested. It is just a large open area of land and my steady pay comes from work I do for the Army.

  Do you wish to know anything else? Or shall I send your fare? That would make a wonderful belated birthday present...

  Jack

  Ella couldn’t hide her grin as she closed the door to the room she shared with Michaela and sat down by the desk. He’d written to her again. Though he hadn’t offered to make arrangements for her to join him, he’d written back and given her the hope that if she replied once more, he’d also respond again.

  She had no idea why she kept writing to him—or why he continued to answer her. She’d casually mentioned to her father that with the close of another marriage season, perhaps she should start searching the newspaper for mail order bride ads. She wasn’t sure which was worse: his fist slamming on the table as he thundered that his daughter would not become a mail order bride, to be reduced to a common whore by a conniving brothel owner, or the imploring look on her sister’s face.

  Ella idly combed her fingers through her long black hair. Her father wasn’t a bad or cruel man, just...protective. While most fathers didn’t wish to acknowledge the ugly side of life, her father, General Samuel Davis, had no qualms about reminding her and her sisters that a woman was only one poor decision away from a life of pain and ruin.

  She shivered. What was the point in writing to Jack again? She hardly knew anything about him. Their letters had consisted of just a few sentences—nothing really about him. How did she know that he wasn’t one of those vile men her father warned her about?

  With a sigh, she sat down to pen what would have to be her final letter to him. There was no use in keeping his interest if she had no intention of making good on her promise; but for selfish reasons alone, she had to send just one more and get one more response. Then she’d stop.

  Dear Jack,

  I hope your birthday was pleasant. Mine is nearing, as well, and falls each year on the first of January. I shall accept your lack of present for me as the present I never sent you and consider us on equal grounds this year!

  I know this will reach you after the holiday has passed, so I shall not bore you with the pleasantry of wishing you a Merry Christmas; but since you asked if there was anything else I’d like to know, I do have one final question: How and with whom do you spend your holidays?

  Ella

  P. S. With no plowing, tilling, planting, and reaping, I wonder how the grass stays short enough to keep the furry critters at bay...

  Jack stared down at the paper. Was this some sort of test? If it was, he’d come up lacking.

  He raked his hand through his black hair and continued to stare blankly at the paper. With a shrug, he picked up his pen and wrote the first thing that came to mind.

  Dear Ella,

  I hope you had a wonderful Christmas. As lonely as living out here can be, Christmas is one of the few times during the year that I don’t mind being here alone.

  My holidays are spent with military men. Colonel Lewis usually invites me and a handful of other commissioned officers: Captain Wes Tucker (accompanied by his wife, Allison, who is all but physically attached to his hip), Captain Grayson Montgomery (better known as Gray) and Lieutenant Bryce McCorkle to his home, where his wife prepares a meal for us as if we are all kings.

  Following the meal, we all exchange gifts.

  This Christmas, we men received new coatees and scarves from the Lewises, and Mrs. Lewis gave Allison a new winter gown.

  Allison made pastries with our favorite fillings for the men and presented Mrs. Lewis with a new tablecloth.

  Wes claimed his part of the gift was being made to suffer the delicious smells and having his hand smacked for trying to pilfer a pastry.

  McCorkle gave us each two cigarettes—though none of us smoke. He was quite happy to re-collect.

  Gray is the worst gift-giver of them all and gave us all the same gift he gives us each year. Unfortunately, I cannot explain what it is or you might never write back!

  In a strange way that doesn’t involve blood or last names, we are all brothers of a sort and have no problem playing the part. Gifts are unimportant out here as none of us have much to offer the others except friendship.

  This tradition of spending the day with the Lewises started before I arrived, and I cannot imagine spending the holiday any other way. I suppose you should know that I have no other relations out here with me. No mother or sister for you to turn to for support, sadly. But I’m sure if you decide to come that Mrs. Lewis and Allison (and even Sarah Ridgely) will be your family.

  Jack

  P.S. Fear not, my darling, the grass doesn’t require a sickle to stay short and groomed. I have a special pair of scissors I’ll teach you to use to maintain it if you don’t wish to make a new furry friend. Although I must admit, I thought females liked things that were soft and furry...

  Ella’s heart lurched as she reread the missive over and over again. While Jack’s earlier letters had been amusing, this one was different.

  This one was him. Not just a simple answer to her question. This was original. Real.

  From behind where she sat out in the middle of a grassy field on a mild mid-February day, she heard the wheels of a wagon and folded and stuffed the letter into her bodice.

  This was it. Time to make a choice. She either needed to heed her father’s urging to find a husband this year among the Mitchell boys, who’d bought the plantation thirty miles north of Savannah, or defy his wish, betray her sister and scandalize the whole county by becoming a mail order bride...

  The choice was easy; the execution, however, might not be.

  Walking around and pretending to look over and cultivate the soil in the modest kitchen garden she’d planted in front of her home, she formed a plan; then once dinner was finished, she penned her final letter to Jack.

  Dearest Jack,

  I should have enough time to pack all of my parasols and fans to prepare for your “warm” weather by the time your next letter arrives. All I shall need then is some direction of where to go...

  Ella

  P.S. I shall be sure to pack an extra pair of kid gloves so my fingers do not blister while using those scissors you mentioned to snip the grass. This female’s love for “all things soft and furry” ends at anything smaller than my purse.

  Unintentionally, Jack crumpled her letter in his strong hold and grinned like an eight-year-old boy who’d just spotted a pie cooling in the window. She was coming!

  Ignoring the inquisitive eyes of Wes and Gray, Jack all but ran to the officers’ office and fell into his chair. At one point in his life, he’d have scowled at the prospect of having to write so many letters, but not today. There was much to be done in his quest to prepare for Ella’s arrival...

  Including one last letter to Ella.

  Dear Ella,

  I am honored that you have elected to spend the rest of your life with me. It might not always be easy, for anything truly worth having is never easy to attain and keep, but I shall do my best to be a good husband to you. I do not have much else to offer than that, but I hope that it will be enough.

  Sincerely,

  Jack

  Jack scowled down at the paper. What had gotten into him? He couldn’t send that. She’d think him too...too...well, he couldn’t place it, but surely she’d change her mind. Inste
ad, he slipped that ill-begotten missive into his pocket and tried again.

  Dear Ella,

  I am most pleased with your decision and I hope that you will be, too, upon your arrival here. I’ve made arrangements for you to travel to Ft. Smith, where I have arranged for a private escort to accompany you the rest of the way.

  Godspeed,

  Jack

  P.S. I do believe we shall get along well, indeed. My love for all things soft and furry both begins and ends with a dog.

  Ella bit her lip to contain the little scream of excitement that threatened to escape her lips.

  This was it. She was finally going to be married and to someone who wanted her. Never mind the fact that he’d been forced by circumstances to place such an ad and she’d had a horrible string of insincere suitors that had prompted her to reply. From what he’d written in his letters, she had every reason to believe they’d be a perfect match.

  How many times had her father told her that there was a good man out there waiting for her—she just hadn’t found him yet? One who’d love and protect her as a husband ought. One who wouldn’t care that she wasn’t the most graceful dancer or more beautiful than the frost-covered trees in winter. One who’d see her for who she was and love her because of it. She sat on the edge of her bed with a wistful sigh. Jack. He didn’t seem a dishonest schemer to her. He seemed protective and, most of all, genuine. Just what she needed.

  She grabbed her pillow, held it loosely over her face, and tumbled back against her bed for what might very well be the last time ever as excitement passed through her. Of course everything would work out just fine, she told herself. She was just nervous. That was it. These feelings of uneasiness and delight were normal for a girl who, in less than a day, would be on a hired stage, heading to lands unknown.

  Of course, her father and sister thought she would be on her way to northern Virginia to spend some time with her widowed aunt—which might be a good portion of her anxiety. She tossed the pillow to the side and sat back up. She’d write to her father and Michaela and tell them the truth after she was safely married to Jack, she reminded herself. They’d be happy for her then.

  Pushing away any final hint of doubt or fear and not letting it cloud her happiness and excitement, she finished packing all of the things she’d need for the rest of her life.

  ~Chapter Three~

  May 1846

  Jack tossed down his hat and shrugged out of his coatee. He slipped the button at the top of his shirt free and proceeded to unbutton each of his cuffs. It was too hot in here as it was, and he could hardly sit still long enough to finish his report about what he and his men had found when they’d ridden out to the Creek land last week. He scribbled down a few more words so the report looked lengthier and Colonel Lewis didn’t ask for more details Jack couldn’t remember. The men and women he’d visited seemed just fine. They had enough food and water and didn’t seem to give any indication that they had thoughts of attacking the fort and lynching those who lived here.

  To his mind, all was fine.

  At least where the Creeks lived. For him, personally, all was the furthest thing from fine. Not that it was bad, however. He was just...er...nervous.

  Not necessarily a good nervous, but not a bad nervous, either. It was more like a mix of the two, but mainly good.

  “Are you feeling well, Jack?”

  Jack started. “Yes. Why?”

  His friend Wes shrugged and idly scratched the brown hair just above his temple. “You just seem anxious.”

  Of course he was anxious. After the better part of a year and a plethora of letters passing between them, Jack had finally convinced one Miss Elinor “Ella” Davis to come here as his mail order bride, and if he’d done his calculations correctly, today was the day she was set to arrive. Of course, nobody else knew of this yet, lest she reach Fort Smith, change her mind and not come. His gut tightened at the thought. “Everything’s fine,” he said as smoothly as he could.

  “Hmmm,” Wes said before turning his attention back to the paper in front of him.

  “Hmmm, what?” Jack asked, scowling.

  “Nothing. I just find it odd that you keep glancing out the window every thirty seconds.”

  Jack swallowed. He hadn’t meant to be so obvious. “I asked McCorkle to march my men this afternoon so I could finish this report. I want to make sure, by the time they come back, they still know how to march properly.”

  Wes chuckled and Jack relaxed. All of the other officers here knew McCorkle couldn’t think more than half a step ahead of himself. To be quite honest and incredibly blunt, it was a miracle the man was able to dress himself in the morning. It seemed he needed direct orders to do just about anything, and heaven only knew what his men often talked him into letting them do because he was so easy to persuade. “If you wanted to ensure they stayed on task and actually learned something, you should have sent them with Gray, then.”

  “I would have, but Gray said no.”

  “Do you blame him?”

  “If he wanted to eat that pastry, then he shouldn’t have left it unattended,” Jack said in his own defense.

  Wes shook his head. “And that is why I am so glad I have a wife who can bake me pies and pastries whenever I ask, and not once every six months.”

  A hint of a smile touched Jack’s lips. Ella could cook, too. “Allison wasn’t always so eager if I remember right.”

  “No, she wasn’t,” Wes agreed. “She just had to learn. And thank heaven she did or else she’d surely have perished within a month if Mrs. Ridgely hadn’t helped her.”

  Jack signed his name to his report and walked it over to Colonel Lewis’ desk so the man could find it easy enough and not come pestering Jack for it later. Because frankly, later, he’d be busy. Tonight would be his wedding night, after all... He cleared his throat and his thoughts simultaneously before he found himself in an awkward situation that he’d have to think of some way to explain his way out of.

  “Surely, it wasn’t so bad for Allison when she first came. I seem to remember her being very cheerful.”

  Wes snorted. “That’s because you only saw her in brief snatches when she first arrived. Fort Gibson is nothing like where she came from in Boston. She struggled at first.”

  “But she did learn,” Jack hedged.

  A wide grin split Wes’ face. “Of course she did. It just took some time.”

  Jack expected the same from Ella. Although to tell the truth, from Ella’s letters, she seemed to have a better understanding of what was expected of her as a wife. If Jack remembered correctly, not only could Allison not cook, but she couldn’t even sew either, and Wes had to use his clothing allowance to buy her a shirt to wear with the unusual skirt she’d sewn.

  “Jack?”

  Jack started again. “Yes?”

  “You’re not thinking to do something foolish, are you?”

  “Foolish?”

  “Yes.” Wes’ blue eyes searched Jack’s heated face. “You haven’t taken it into your mind to send off for a mail order bride again, have you?”

  “No.” That wasn’t a lie. He’d already sent off for one; he had no need to send off for another. “Why do you ask?”

  Wes’ eyes narrowed. “Because every time you start talking about Allison, you get this distant look in your eyes—the very one you had last year right after Allison came and you suggested you could use a wife and were thinking about sending off for a mail order bride.”

  “I still don’t see what’s wrong with my logic. A wife out here could make a man’s life far easier.”

  “And hers miserable,” Wes countered. He raked a hand through his brown hair. “Jack, please don’t do anything foolish. Besides the fact that she’d be utterly miserable married to you in the first place, the journey here might kill her.”

  Silence filled the air. Last year, days after Allison had arrived, Jack, Wes and Gray had found a ransacked carriage and the bodies of Allison’s traveling companions. “Not to worr
y about that. If I were to seek a wife and have her travel here to meet me, I’d have her come across from Fort Smith. It’s far safer that way than down the Texas Trail.”

  “You speak as if you’ve already made plans to do this,” Wes said, steepling his hands in front of his face.

  Jack shrugged. “After what happened last year, a man couldn’t be too careful making travel plans for his future wife.”

  “You do know that Allison’s arrival here wasn’t planned.”

  “I know,” he said thickly. This was a fact he was unaware of when he’d originally placed his ad. When Allison had arrived, Wes had led them all to believe she was a mail order bride. It wasn’t until a man who claimed to be her intended appeared that the truth was exposed. “Because it was just a random occurrence and not your own arrangements for her to be on the Texas Trail, I don’t place any blame on you.”

  “Thank you,” Wes said dryly.

  Jack frowned at his friend’s sarcasm. “I’m sure that had you actually sent off for a mail order bride, you’d have done whatever necessary to keep her safe.”

  “Including arranging an Army escort,” Captain Grayson “Gray” Montgomery said, poking his head in the door of the large room all the officers shared to do their work.

  Jack’s heart thudded in his chest. Did that mean... “I should think that would be prudent,” Jack said slowly.

  Gray scoffed. “You know darn well that’s exactly what you’d do because that’s what you did do.” He stepped inside the office and closed the door. “I didn’t think you’d truly have the nerve or the stupidity to actually send off for a wife. Nor did I think one would be desperate enough to respond, but I suppose that makes me the biggest fool of all because there’s a beautiful woman who just arrived and is claiming she’s looking for a man named Jack Walker—her intended.”