a fool of yourself. I’m not interested one way or another!” She turned around quickly, rising and knocking over the chair. “Tu-no vale nada! You’re no good!”
He slapped her, a stinging blow that drove her back against the table, nearly upsetting the lamp. She straightened slowly, the imprint of his hand clear on her cheek. Tears formed in her eyes and began to spill over.
She came into his arms when he reached for her and they were tight against each other. Her voice was muffled against the rough weave of his shirt. “Why did you have to find me, Tim? I’d almost forgotten what it was to be white. Oh, darling, don’t hate me; I couldn’t stand that. She’s no good for you because she can’t love anyone. She doesn’t know what love is, Tim. You flatter her with your attention and she has to have that or she’ll wither. Tim, go away with me. I need you; she doesn’t need anyone, not even Sickles.”
“You better go back now,” he said, putting her away from him.
She dried her eyes. “The situation never gets better for us, does it, Tim? I want you to love me, but I only succeed in making you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you, Libby.”
“I guess you don’t,” she said and went to the door. “You just hate Apaches, and what they made you do to yourself. Every time you look at me and my baby, you’re reminded.”
“Libby—”
“You’d better go to her,” she said and went out, her shoes rapping lightly along the porch. He waited a few minutes, then let himself out. On the porch he paused to look right and left. Bars of lamplight bathed sections of the porch and he heard a woman laugh somewhere along the row. He studied the parade carefully; there was no movement. Across from him, the commanding officer’s house sported lights in the parlor. Headquarters was on the left, near the north gate.
He stepped down and walked leisurely toward Suds Row.
Sergeant Herlihy’s quarters was on the near end and he rapped lightly. The door opened immediately and O’Hagen stepped in, doffing his kepi. His eyes went to Rosalia. Mrs. Herlihy, a heavy, graying woman, gathered her shawl. “Mrs. Callahan asked me to drop by,” she said and left.
“I’ll look in on th’ troop,” Herlihy said and followed her.
Rosalia Sickles was very young. Too young to be Osgood H. Sickles’ wife. Her hair was blue-black, parted in the middle and swept into coils behind her head. She was slender; some would have said frail, but O’Hagen knew she was not. Her face was heart-shaped, almost classic. She said, “I am so sorry, Teemothy. Are we still friends?”
“No more than friends?” He heard a stir in the other room and opened the door. The baby was on the bed, a boy of two, and O’Hagen picked him up. Immediately a pink hand grabbed his nose and the boy laughed.
He carried him back to the other room and Rosalia Sickles frowned slightly. O’Hagen said, “You want to hold him?”
“No,” she said quickly. “Teemothy, what are you going to do if things go badly in the morning?”
“You mean if I’m kicked out of the army?” He hoisted the boy high in the air and listened to him laugh. The boy grabbed O’Hagen’s ear and tugged. “I figure I’ll go to Tucson. There’s a little something between myself and your husband that’s not finished.”
The boy released O’Hagen’s ear and bent away, both fat arms reaching for Rosalia. She backed up a step involuntarily. O’Hagen said, “He just wants you to hold him.”
“I don’t want to hold him!” She spoke sharply and then bit her lip. The boy stared at her, his dark eyes round and curious. He had the fair skin of his white mother, but his hair and eyes were dark. Apache blood! “Teemothy,” Rosalia said, “I would wither if you hated me.”
O’Hagen’s expression was puzzled. “Rosa, what is it you want? You married him. I’m out, regardless of how I feel.”
She raised a hand and brushed her forehead. “Please, can’t we go on—I want it that way.”
O’Hagen stared at her while the boy pulled his hair. “I’m not sneaking around behind Sickles’ back! What do you expect, my regards? Rosa, I’ve asked you a dozen times to make up your mind. All right, you did. That ends it.”
“You know better,” she said, a smile tipping her lips. There was a shine in her eyes that he could not understand; then Rosalia’s eyes swung past him as the door opened. Libby Malloy looked from one to the other before taking the baby from O’Hagen.
“If I’m interrupting something, I’m glad,” she said.
“Why do you dislike me so?” Rosalia said bluntly. “I hardly know you.”
“But I know you,” Libby said. “How many men do you want? Or is it, how many do you need to make you happy?” Hoisting the boy on her hip, she carried him back into the bedroom. Through the half open door O’Hagen could hear her cooing and the boy’s delighted laugh.
When Rosalia spoke, the sound of her voice startled him, for he had forgotten she was in the room. “Teemothy, would it help if I said I love you?”
Boots stamped along the porch and across the parade; the bugler blew tattoo. He said, “Why do you tell me that? What am I supposed to say?”
“That you still care for me,” Rosalia said, smiling. “Teemothy, don’t ever be far away from me.” She turned her head toward the bedroom. “She wants you, but you would be destroyed by her. You want a woman highly desired by other men, not one no man would promise to marry.”
“Shut up!”
She shrugged. “I’ve told you the truth.”
“Don’t make me out a bigger fool than I’ve already been,” O’Hagen said. “I have to go now.”
The movement along the porch stopped and the door opened. Osgood H. Sickles paused there, looked from one to the other, then closed the door. He was a man in his middle thirties, big, square faced, but not unhandsome. He wore fawn-colored trousers and a long coat. His left eye was darkly discolored and there was a lingering puffiness near the jaw hinges. Rosalia stood motionless, embarrassed at being caught here.
Sickles said, “Mr. O’Hagen, I’ve been quite tolerant of your attentions to my wife. Overlooked a great deal. I’m a broadminded man. But these lover’s trysts are over, be assured of that.”
“Don’t let your imagination run away with you,” O’Hagen said.
“I’m not. It’s yours that works overtime.” He spoke to his wife. “I believe you’d better return to Major Calvin’s quarters. I’m sure Mrs. Calvin is worried about you.” His smile was disarming. “Mr. O’Hagen and I have a matter to discuss.”
Rosalia hesitated, but the habit of obedience is strong in Spanish girls and she went out. Sickles listened to her footsteps recede, then turned his head when Libby Malloy came out of the bedroom.
“I had no idea you were there,” Sickles said.
“I’ll bet you didn’t,” Libby said and put on the coffee pot. Sickles studied the
