directly across from Lily Kellogg. He hoped his perusal of her wasn’t too obvious, but it was difficult to keep his eyes averted. The delicacy of her features was at odds with the self-composed figure he’d seen in the cemetery. She was both dazzling and enigmatic.
Effie seemed determined to direct questions to him, but he noticed her slyly studying Lily while he answered. He had a familiar sinking sensation. He was in the hands of a skillful matchmaker. If he wasn’t bound by social niceties, he could save Effie Hurlburt the trouble. Looking at Lily Kellogg was one thing; entanglement, quite another. He had learned that lesson from bitter experience.
Buttering a slice of bread, the major commented that he was sorry about Ezra Kellogg’s absence from the table. “A fine doctor he is. During the outbreak of typhus late last fall, he performed valiantly, keeping our mortality rate low.”
“He’s very skilled,” Effie agreed. “As is his most proficient nurse.” She smiled at Lily, who bowed her head modestly.
“I do what I can.”
“Sister, you are a marvel,” Rose said. “Few of us could do what you do.”
Lily looked up. “When you find something interesting and fulfilling, it isn’t work.” Caleb watched her eyes light up. “Learning about the human body and how to control and treat disease is fascinating. If only...” Her voice trailed off.
Caleb suspected she’d been about to say “If only women could be doctors,” but no one else picked up on the thought. To spare her the awkward moment, Caleb said, “May I ask how you began nursing?”
The young woman set down her fork. “Before she died, my mother attended women in childbirth. I was curious, and she began to teach me. Then when she was ill, we—” she nodded at her sister “—helped nurse her, and I discovered I had a gift. Our father is often shorthanded or in the process of training inexperienced enlisted men, so I assist him as I can.”
“A regular Florence Nightingale she is,” Effie said, beaming approval.
“Miss Nightingale is an idol of mine, but I would never venture to compare myself to her.”
“The nurses I observed during the war performed invaluable services,” Caleb said, recalling painfully the field hospitals he had visited. “It is important work, and I commend you.”
The conversation then turned to the latest rumors about a railroad to be built to replace the Santa Fe Trail. “The railroad is only the beginning of a new era, I suspect,” the major observed. “With such progress, we will no doubt experience many changes.”
“Not the least of which is moving to the parlor for coffee.” The major’s wife rose to her feet. “And perhaps Miss Lily will honor us with a selection on the pianoforte.”
Caleb smiled inwardly. Miss Lily Kellogg seemed to be a woman of myriad and contradictory talents. He didn’t want to be intrigued by her, but even fatigued as he was, the prospect of learning more about her kept him alert. A half hour later, after further conversation and two pleasing piano pieces, the major asked him to escort the Kellogg sisters home.
Outside, clouds played tag with a nearly full moon. The light-colored stones of the buildings shifted and glowed as shadows came and went. From the enlisted men’s barracks came sounds of revelry. It was nearly time for taps, so as they proceeded across the parade ground, the noises gradually subsided. At the door of the small house adjoining the hospital, Caleb took each of the ladies’ hands by turn. “Miss Rose, Miss Lily. Good night.” His gaze caught Lily’s. “Thank you for an evening I will long remember.”
“Good night, Captain,” the women said in unison before disappearing inside.
Caleb strolled back across the parade ground, reaching his quarters just as the bugler sounded taps. As they often did, the haunting notes recalled other nights, other encampments. Deeply moved, he lingered on the porch, taking in the fort, the surrounding countryside, the limitless sky. Feelings he hadn’t experienced in a long time, if ever, came over him. Part longing, part mystery, part promise—all centered in the disturbing sense that it wasn’t by accident God had put Lily Kellogg in his path.
Sighing wearily, he regained control of his thoughts. He would need to be on his guard. A woman had hurt him once, and he never wanted to feel that vulnerable again. No matter the provocation.
Chapter Two
Sunlight filtering through the windows of the post hospital the next morning brought an illusion of cheer to the convalescing patients. Lily moved among the beds, changing a bandage here and wiping a fevered brow there. Only after she had checked all the patients did she pause at the bedside of a young man who had been kicked by a horse, suffering painful bruises and a concussion. Taking his hand, she gently called his name.
The man stirred, then groaned. Lily spoke louder. “Benjamin, tell me where you are.”
His eyes fluttered before focusing on her. “In heaven?”
“Try again. Where are you?”
The hint of a smile teased his lips. “Just joshin,’ Miss Lily. Hospital. I’m in the hospital.” Then just before he fell back to sleep, he mumbled, “Clumsy nag of a horse.”
Across the room lay a cook, scalded by a pot of boiling soup, his hands mittened in gauze. She made her way to him. “I have time now, Timothy, to write that letter for you.”
She retrieved paper, pen and the lap board and listened as he dictated his message. “Tell me mum I am dandy. Say I had a bit of an accident, but that I’ll be cooking again before she even gets this letter. Ask her to write.”
Lily had seen the burns on his hands and doubted he’d be cooking anytime soon. She prayed he would be spared infection, so common with burns. “I will post your letter this afternoon.”
“Thank you, miss,” he whispered, tears flooding his eyes. She turned away to spare him embarrassment.
When she had finished her duties, she stepped into the small surgeon’s office where her father was working on his weekly medical report. “Do you need me further, Papa?”
Ezra Kellogg looked up, his blue eyes gentle behind his spectacles. “You’re a godsend, daughter, but we’ll manage for the rest of the day.”
Lily studied his pale face and stooped shoulders. There was an air of resignation or...a lack of vigor...something that had diminished him. It was as if when his wife’s life drained away, his spirit had ebbed, as well. She and Rose did what they could to lighten his heart, but, in truth, all of them sorely missed Mathilda. Only after her death had Lily realized the extent to which her mother had been the family’s anchor.
Not quite six years before, a similar shadow had passed over the family and forever changed them. During the war she, Rose and her mother had prayed unceasingly for the safety of her father and brother, David. Lily’s chest tightened, as if a claw gripped her heart. David. So amiable and strong. It had been natural to idolize the big brother whose hearty laugh had charmed them all. In her innocence, she had thought him invincible. Until that awful news. The telegram from the War Department had stated in cold, impersonal terms that their beloved David had been killed in the Battle of Lookout Mountain.
She remembered the sickening feeling she’d experienced with the realization that he had been dead for
