her day slippers.
“I’ll have to order them. It won’t take much more than a month or so.” The man measured the length and width of her foot, and then stood, tucking the flat wooden ruler into his back pocket. “I could try to get them faster, but it’ll cost extra.”
“Get them as soon as possible, Jenkins,” Seth said.
“Aye, aye, Major. I’ll see what I can do.”
Seth helped her to her feet, then kept one hand on her elbow. “Don’t see, Jenkins, make it happen.”
“I ain’t got the pull you do, Major, but I’ll get them.” With a tip of his head, which was hairless compared to his face, the man shuffled toward the long plank laid atop two barrels, with several people crowded along it.
“Is there anything else you need?” Seth asked.
Millie shook her head, barely able to keep her eyes from going to the Indians again.
A little shudder rippled through her. “Are they friendly?”
His gaze went to the Indians for a moment. “Friendly?”
She nodded.
He led her out the door, and she sighed at both the bright sunshine and the fresh air. The smell of coffee had been overpowering in the store, yet she hadn’t noticed it until they’d stepped outside.
“For the most part,” he answered, glancing toward a group exiting the building behind them. “When they want to be.”
She shivered again. None of them appeared threatening, but their stares were acute and left her chilled. “Isn’t that why you’re out here? To fight them?”
“No.”
“But you would if they attacked, wouldn’t you?”
He shrugged. “Guess that would depend on why they attacked.”
Even her throat was quivering. “What do you mean, why?”
“They only attack when they want to steal women. Not too many women around here. We’d be better off just turning them over, rather than losing men in a battle.”
Completely ignoring the stones beneath the soft soles of her slippers, she hurried to remain at his side when he started walking again. “The women? You’d just give—?”
“I have work to see to,” he said. “I assume you can make it to the barracks on your own.”
The cabins were only a few yards ahead, and she had no doubt how fast she could make it there and shut the door. Matter of fact, there was probably a rooster tail of dust behind her, but she didn’t care. Her focus was on whether the cabin door had a lock or not.
It didn’t, and Millie was dragging, pushing and shoving one of her trunks to barricade the door when a knock sounded.
“Ma’am?” Ben Cutter said, poking his head in the doorway.
“Y-yes?” she stuttered, breathing hard, mainly because her heart was still in her throat.
“Briggs wanted me to deliver this pot of tea to you. He thought you might like a bit more than you had for lunch.”
“Oh, thank you.” Stepping aside so he could squeeze in the small opening—the trunk was almost in place—she waited until he set the pot and a delicate china cup and saucer on the table. “Mr. Cutter, how many women are here at the fort?”
“Well, let’s see, there’s Mrs. Ketchum, and...”
By the time Ben Cutter was done explaining exactly who the other four women at the fort were, Millie was full of additional questions, which he readily answered.
She listened carefully as he explained that the fort had been built ten years ago, when General Sheridan was campaigning to stop Indian raids on white settlers in Kansas and Texas. He also explained Grant’s peace policy. How it promised tribes provisions if they moved onto reservation land, and how special Indian agents had been assigned to oversee the activities.
Cutter went on to tell her how when General Sherman arrived at Fort Sill several years ago, he’d found several chiefs boasting about the raids they’d initiated on wagon trains and when he’d ordered their arrests, the general had almost been assassinated.
Some tribes accepted the agreement, but others didn’t, and considered the reservations safe havens. A place where no one could retaliate against them.
Millie was fascinated by all this. General Sherman and her father had been close acquaintances. During one of his visits to their Richmond home, he’d appointed her father to oversee the men assigned to this fort.
Years ago she’d learned that Seth was a West Point graduate, and had been in Richmond, the day he’d married Rosemary, to deliver a report to their father about the raids and how rations weren’t being delivered.
Millie asked a few more questions, mainly about the Indians, and Cutter answered them, praising the major for his bravery and leadership in dealing with various tribes. The man made it sound as if everyone at the fort was alive because of Seth’s valor.
Having plenty to think about, Millie thanked Mr. Cutter for all his information, and allowed him to move her trunks into her room before he took his leave.
Papa had rarely spoke about such things with her, but Lola did. The housekeeper insisted Indians were as misunderstood as Negros, and that white folks shouldn’t talk about things they didn’t understand.
Mr. Cutter had just explained that the army was the only law in Indian Territory. He’d also said their duties included protecting the Indians and civilians, while teaching the former how to farm in order to feed their families. More importantly, he’d told her Indians didn’t steal women.
Pacing the floor of the dreary cabin, Millie imagined just how irritated Rosemary would be by all this. Her sister wouldn’t just be frustrated with the surroundings, she’d be furious at the way Seth had purposely frightened her.
A hint of a grin formed. Maybe being Rosemary could be fun, after all.
* * *
The report Jasper was reading aloud—about how the declining cattle drives would leave more tribes without food for the winter—wasn’t holding Seth’s attention. It wasn’t anything he didn’t already know. At one time the cattle drives had run directly through Indian Territory, and the ranchers had been more than happy to exchange a few head of cattle for safe travels, but the growing rail lines were replacing the drives. They’d had only half as many this year as last.
The window was what held Seth’s interest. More so, the activity happening across the courtyard. His so-called wife had beckoned to Ben Cutter a short time ago, and shortly afterward the man had led two of Briggs’s maidens to the cabin. Since then Seth had barely been able to keep up with the comings and goings. Clean linens were carried in—he’d noticed them in one of the bundles—but for the number of trips the women made there would have to have been a dozen beds instead of one. Well, two if you count his, but he highly doubted she’d have his bedding changed.
Intuition
