Calico Brides Read online

  Annie harrumphed. Perhaps some woman could picture Lieutenant Bear Arnold as a nice man, but not her. “He’s helping me only because Mrs. Peate asked him to. How can my plan work if he opposes it?”

  Mama stuck her needle in the trouser leg. “Annie Abigail Bliss, you’re giving one man too much power. If God is for it…”

  “…who can be against it?” Annie rubbed her forehead. “You’re right, of course.” She forced a smile. “But you have to admit it would be easier if he was as excited about it as I am.” She cut off the end of the yarn that she had twisted too much to use. She shifted to green, to remind her of spring, and dug in her basket for larger knitting needles. This time her first row came out evenly spaced and with the right number of stitches. “Thanks for reminding me.”

  “Easier, perhaps—but not as much fun.” Mama’s laughter resounded in Annie’s ears, and she made short work of the mitten’s cuff.

  Chapter 4

  Aloud cry awoke Jeremiah in the night. He battled his blankets and sat up straight in bed, his Colt in his right hand. His head swung around, but no one moved in the shadows. Chaswell, the only other officer in the bachelor’s quarters, snored, his sleep uninterrupted.

  No enemy threatened Jeremiah or the regiment’s safety; only his own painful nightmares troubled him, the same ones he’d suffered after Fannie’s death followed on the heels of his parents’ deaths. Those dreams had ended years ago until Annie Bliss and her knitting project had disturbed his peace.

  The women Jeremiah had dealings with as chaplain fell into two categories. He offered officers’ wives the same respect he afforded their husbands. As far as camp followers and other such women in every station and town in the west, he warned his soldiers to keep out of their way and took care to follow his own advice.

  He had minimized his contact with pretty young things like Annie Bliss. Chaswell likened his behavior to a horse with blinders. But Annie had burst on the scene, tearing the blinders from his eyes and forcing him to see the spirited, godly young woman with a mission from God.

  The sky had lightened to a predawn gray, and he saw no point in seeking slumber again, “perchance to dream,” as Hamlet despaired. After he scrubbed his face, he grabbed his Bible and headed for the stable. He had enough time to ride to his favorite place to greet dawn, about a five-minute ride from the fort.

  He had spent more time on horseback in the past ten days than he had in the past ten months, and today he would add more miles to that total. He had to ride into town for his second meeting with the self-proclaimed missionary to the military.

  Inside the stable, familiar odors greeted Jeremiah, and his horse’s soft nicker welcomed him. He rubbed her nose while feeding her a bit of carrot. “I’m spoiling you.” She stood quietly while he saddled up and led her outside before closing the door and climbing on her back.

  The guard at the gate called, “Morning, Chaplain.” Waving back, Jeremiah headed into the cool spring Kansas morning. Winter snow had disappeared only a week ago. God knew Jeremiah needed a place to escape and think things over.

  Once he reached his spot and settled his mare, he reached for a blade of new spring grass. He tried whistling down the shaft, without success, before he stuck it between his teeth. David might have done the same thing when he was a shepherd. The habit lingered from Jeremiah’s boyhood.

  The mare matched Jeremiah well, but she was getting up in years. If he chose to reenlist, he would need a new horse. She deserved to end her years in peace, but where could he find her a home?

  Annie’s horse was well cared for, as was everything he noticed about her home.

  Annie, again. Jeremiah jerked at the blade of grass and spat it on the ground. What did it take to get the girl out of his mind? This spot near the fort had become sacred ground as he spent time here, bringing the faces of his departed loved ones to mind. Over this past winter, their faces had lost focus, smudged by a mental eraser. The lack of fidelity to their memories, not to mention his disastrous dalliance with a saloon girl, made him feel unclean, unworthy. He had dreamed of being Hosea to her Gomer, only she dragged him down to her level and then died in a drunken gunfight at the saloon. He had fled into the army for escape six years ago next month.

  Had all his years ministering to the men under his care counted for nothing? Sunshine rippled over his open Bible. “Lord, You promised me perfect peace if I keep my mind stayed on You. I’m trying, Lord. But I’m not at peace. I want to head in the direction You’re leading me, whether to remain in the army or leave it for something new.”

  No answer came, at least not one he could hear. Today he would cling to the promise of God’s abiding presence when he came face-to-face with Miss Annie Bliss for their second meeting.

  His mare nuzzled his neck, bringing him a small measure of comfort. He stood and scratched her nose. “If God gave you the gift of speech like Balaam’s donkey, what would you say?” After he climbed on her back, he urged her to a gallop, one that cooled his skin and cleared the fuzziness of his brain for the morning ahead. If he couldn’t resolve his feelings, he could at least ignore them for a few hours and complete his duties out of force of habit.

  Upon his return to the fort, the young guard saluted him. “Lieutenant Arnold, Mrs. Peate has asked to see you after breakfast.”

  Jeremiah bit his lip. He wouldn’t get the expected reprieve after all.

  “Are you sure you don’t need my help?” Annie hovered in the kitchen.

  Her mother chuckled. “If you keep this up, I’ll bring out my damask tablecloth and china.”

  Annie could just about imagine the horror on the Bear’s face if they went to such lengths. “Don’t do that!”

  Mama laughed. “I have everything under control. Why don’t you bring your basket in here to finish that last mitten, and we can visit while we work?”

  Annie tilted her head sideways while she considered. She usually kept her projects away from the kitchen, where flour or water could destroy hours of needlework with a single fling of a spoon. But she could tuck the mitten and skein into a small sack that would protect them from most spills. “I’ll do that.”

  In the living room, she glanced at the basket full of completed sets. She was working on the final pair. God Himself had sped her hands, and even the additional yarn had arrived at Finnegan’s Mercantile two days earlier than expected.

  She sat down at the table and cast the first row with blue yarn, which she would mix with bright yellow stripes. Like the last one she’d finished, she’d make it large, a good match for the strong, sturdy hands she had seen as the Bear handled the reins on his horse.

  She shook her head, hoping to clear away renegade thoughts of the chaplain. “It’s a good thing I finished these early.”

  Mama looked up briefly from the pudding she was stirring. “I confess, I was hoping for more opportunities to invite Lieutenant Arnold for a visit. He seemed so sad. You mentioned he lost his fiancée, but that was a long time ago.”

  Annie didn’t know how to respond to that. The most serious romance in her short eighteen years consisted of a stolen kiss from Abe Pettigrew on the occasion of their graduation. He had wed Hannah Swenson last November, and Annie rejoiced.

  “You feel sorry for him?” Annie doubted the laundress at the fort would agree. She had felt the scrape of the Bear’s teeth first hand. She finished the cuff of the mitten and began work on the hand.

  Her mother tested the pudding and took it off the fire. “Annie girl, don’t you know that grumpy people usually have been hurt in some way? Don’t you remember Mr. Keller’s reputation as a scary hermit before Gladys braved him in his house and discovered a lonely old man?”

  Were Mr. Keller and the Bear alike? “I guess if the Samaritan could love the man on the Jericho road, I can find a way to get along with the—” She stopped herself from saying “Bear” just in time. “Lieutenant.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Mama dished pudding into individual bowls and began whipping cream.<
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  A short while later, Annie finished the last stitches before tying off the yarn inside the thumb. Outside the window a chestnut-colored mare appeared. Annie’s heart sped and her dry mouth forced a cough from her throat. She tucked the finished mitten into the sack and stood.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and greet our guest while I set the table?” Mama grinned as if she knew every one of Annie’s thoughts and desires.

  Draping a shawl over her shoulders, Annie headed out the door. The lieutenant looked less like a bear today, more human, the way he was rubbing the mare’s nose and talking to her.

  “Good morning, Jeremiah.”

  He jumped at her words, the wary look returning to his face. “Annie.”

  She noticed the absence of any kind of gloves or mittens on his hands and hoped he would find her blue-and-gold creations useful.

  Mama opened the back window. “Dinner is ready.”

  “We’d better hurry.” Nervous laughter bubbled from Annie’s mouth. “She’s been cooking enough food to serve an army.” A genuine chuckle followed that comment. “I mean…”

  He smiled, and his features lightened, making him look like someone closer to her brother’s age rather than an aging officer. Someone—almost attractive. She couldn’t help noticing the shine of his boots, the crisp creases of his uniform.

  With two steps, he reached the door first and opened it for her. He bowed and gestured her inside. “It smells heavenly in here.”

  “We’re serving you breakfast. I hope you don’t mind.”

  He looked at her, a question in his eyes. “I don’t mind. I hope your mother didn’t go to any extra trouble for me, though.”

  “She loves it. My brother—the one in the army, up in Wyoming, you know—he says he never gets a decent fried egg.”

  “Eggs scrambled with every ingredient on hand, but not fried, no.”

  The sadness sliding through his eyes reminded her that he had no one to cook his eggs to order for him. She wondered about his family. Mama’s words about hidden hurt made a little more sense, especially as long as this softer, kinder bear cub stayed in charge.

  They arrived in the kitchen before they could engage in further conversation.

  Mama pulled a pan with toast from the oven and slid two slices onto Jeremiah’s plate. “Lovely to see you again, Lieutenant. Tell me, how do you like your eggs?”

  “Over easy.” He settled into the indicated chair and studied the array of available jams.

  Annie fixed Jeremiah’s coffee the way he liked it. Mama filled the frying pan with four eggs, and Annie hid a smile. When Mama joined them at the table, she invited Jeremiah to say the blessing.

  Jeremiah folded his hands into a tent and bowed his head. “Thank You, Lord, for Your bounty and these kind folks who have served it. Please lead us to do Your will. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  The simple prayer caught Annie by surprise. He spoke like someone who talked with God like a friend, who used everyday language to battle everyday problems in the arena of prayer. Another layer she hadn’t expected from the Bear. She breathed her own silent prayer. Lord, let me see the lieutenant as You see him.

  When she opened her eyes, steady brown eyes studied her. He smiled as if he had heard her internal prayer then turned his attention to the food in front of him. Mama replaced his toast as soon as he finished his two slices. He ate every bite with relish before pushing back from the table. “Thank you for the delicious meal, Mrs. Bliss.” His eyes sought out Annie, questioning whether she had helped.

  “It wasn’t anything hard. Annie’s been working night and day on the hat and scarf sets.”

  Jeremiah lifted his eyebrows. Annie rose and reached for Mama’s plate, but Mama shooed her away. “You go into the other room to discuss your project with the lieutenant. I’ll take care of the dishes.”

  Jeremiah appeared behind Annie’s chair in a second and then escorted her to the front room, treating her with all the courtliness of a born gentleman. So far today he had been politeness personified.

  “From what your mother said, you’ve been working hard.” Jeremiah gestured to the sack with bright colors peeking out of the top.

  She nodded. “I finished the last set this morning. I wanted everyone to receive his at the same time. This sack here”—she handed the bag at her feet over to Jeremiah—“holds the special sizes. The rest are back in my room.”

  “Do you need any help?” Jeremiah asked.

  She started to say no, but she had too many bags for a single trip. His suggestion only made common sense. She nodded and led him to the back room. While he gathered the bags, she reached for his special set. Her breath quickened, and she made herself count to five. After a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and returned to the living room a step behind Jeremiah.

  “Is there anything I should know before we distribute the scarf sets?”

  His question kindled a fire in her stomach that spread up her neck and cheeks. Swallowing to moisten her dry throat, she held out the small paper sack. “I made these especially for you.”

  Chapter 5

  Annie made a set especially for me. Jeremiah reached down from his mare’s back and touched the bulging saddlebag to reassure himself of the reality.

  Vivid blues and almost-gold stripes. As smart as a dress uniform during a parade march. She had even added the correct insignia appropriate to his rank. As far as he knew, none of the other sets had anything so unique. The sky overhead and the bracing wind both predicted the same weather: a late-season cold snap, one that could range from hailstones to tornadoes or even a snowstorm. Jeremiah might have a use for Annie’s gift sooner than expected.

  The men might talk about the special touches added to Jeremiah’s set, but he couldn’t refuse Annie’s gift any more than he could tell Mrs. Peate he had neglected to offer her invitation to tea. The gift had rattled him, and he escaped soon after that, forgetting the message from the captain’s wife. He’d have to go back.

  If he turned around now, he had time to offer the invitation before the dinner bell sounded at the fort and before bad weather set in. The hope of avoiding future trips to town exceeded his embarrassment about his oversight. Maybe this would be their last meeting and he wouldn’t have to return after today. He turned around and headed back into town.

  On the way back into town, he spotted Annie’s friend Gladys with a young man. Funny, he hadn’t lost a moment’s sleep because of her. She had already completed her mission; Mrs. Peate would worm the entire story from Gladys the next time they met.

  This young woman didn’t frighten him nearly as much as Miss Annie Bliss. Jeremiah reined in his mare and approached the couple. The horse snorted, and they turned in his direction.

  “Why, Lieutenant Arnold, how pleasant to see you again.” Gladys looked up at him with a welcoming smile.

  The man with her bowed in Jeremiah’s direction. “Haydn Keller, at your service, Lieutenant.”

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Jeremiah nodded at young Keller. “Mrs. Peate asked me to extend an invitation for the four young ladies involved in your mission project to join her for tea on Saturday afternoon.” He handed Gladys an official invitation.

  Gladys held the letter where Keller could see while they both read it. “I would be delighted to accept. How thoughtful of her to have the tea at a time when Miss Fairfield can come. Please thank her for us.” Her eyes swept over the sacks attached to the back of the mare. “I see you’ve already been to Annie’s house. I trust she said yes, too?”

  “No, actually”—the words came hesitantly to Jeremiah’s mouth—“I forgot to ask her.” He considered asking Gladys to deliver Annie’s invitation, but Mrs. Peate would not approve. Before Gladys could ask another question, he said good-bye and headed toward Main Street and beyond, to the house with the pretty yellow paint.

  This time when he rode up to the house, no one poked her nose outside. He tied his mare to the stair rail leading to the front porch. Afte
r retrieving the remaining invitations from his saddlebag, he knocked on the front door. When Annie opened to his knock a minute later, her hair was messed, her eyes sparkled, and she looked as relaxed as Jeremiah had felt as long as he was riding in the direction of the fort.

  “Why, Jeremiah, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Please, come in.” She opened the door to invite him in.

  Jeremiah stepped inside the door. “Mrs. Peate asked me to deliver these invitations to you when I saw you, but I forgot. She is inviting everyone involved with your special mission projects to tea on Saturday.” He cleared his throat. “I ran into Miss Polson with Mr. Keller on my way back. She has already accepted.”

  Annie clasped the envelope that Mrs. Peate had penned with such care close to her chest without opening it. “I shall of course come, and I will get the invitations to Miss Landry and Miss Fairfield as soon as possible. Tell her thank you for us.” He remained in place one awkward moment too long, and Annie smiled. “Would you like some tea before you return to the fort? The air is getting nippy.”

  A warm drink, a cheerful kitchen, and a young lady’s smile… He forced himself to remember such things were forbidden to the likes of him. “I am sorry, but I have already tarried too long.” On impulse, he added, “I truly appreciate the items you made for me.”

  He clapped his hat on his head and skedaddled, her surprised face etching itself on his mind.

  “Mrs. Peate is very nice. I don’t think I could have finished my project without her support.” Annie dangled the sleeve for the sweater she had started in front of her. A couple more inches for length, she decided. She changed the colors of the stripes with every sweater to individualize them.

  Birdie pinned together material for a dart. A skilled seamstress, she dressed perfectly modest yet managed to look the most stylish of the four of them. The dresses she made for herself could have been taken from the pages of Godey’s Lady’s Book. “I don’t know if I should go.” She kept her eyes focused on the sewing in her lap.