Mountain Laurel Read online

  Reluctantly, ’Ring let go of her arm and stepped back.

  Maddie walked around the table, and as she did so, the two men closed in beside her. The shorter man wasn’t much taller than she was, but even through his clothes one could see that he was all muscle, a couple of hundred pounds of it. As for the other man, not any human on earth—at least one who had any sense anyway—would have wanted to tangle with him.

  “Captain,” Maddie said slowly, giving him a little smile, “you were so busy telling me what you assumed I didn’t know that you didn’t bother asking me what precautions I had taken. Allow me to introduce my protectors.” She turned to the shorter man. “This is Frank. As you can see, Frank has been in a few pugilistic contests. He can shoot anything that moves. Besides that, he can play the piano and the flute.”

  She turned to the tall black man. “This is Sam. I guess I don’t have to tell you what Sam can do. He once won a wrestle with a bull. See the scar around his neck? Someone tried to hang him once, but the rope broke. No one’s tried again.”

  She looked at Captain Montgomery, saw his dark eyes glittering. “Behind you is Edith. Edith has a special affection for knives.” Maddie smiled. “And she isn’t bad with a fluting iron either.”

  She smiled even more broadly. It was a lovely feeling having beaten this pompous, know-it-all man. From the look of him she had an idea he wasn’t used to being bested at anything. “Now, you have my permission to return to your army fort and tell them I don’t need anyone to escort me. You can tell them that you’ve seen that I am in trustworthy hands. To save your conscience I will write a letter to General Yovington about Lieutenant Surrey’s untimely death and explain that while I appreciate his kind offer of an escort, I am not in need of one at this time.”

  She tried to stop herself but she couldn’t help gloating. “I especially don’t need someone as obviously clumsy as you. Frank knew two days ago that you were searching for us. Your inquiries weren’t exactly subtle, and all the time you were on the hill watching us, Sam was watching you. And when you were riding into camp…Heavens, Captain, the chorus of La Traviata makes less noise than you did. For the life of me I cannot understand why the army would choose a man like you to protect anyone.”

  She knew she should stop, but she didn’t seem able to. The way the dreadful man had called her a traveling singer was enough to make her pull out all the stops. “It seems that if the army was concerned for my safety from Indians, the least they could do is send me a man who could move about the world with a little more subtlety and a lot less noise. Tell me, Captain, have you ever been in the West before? Ever seen an Indian? Can you tell a Ute from a Crow from a Cheyenne? Or is trying to intimidate women what you do best? Is it, perhaps, the only thing you can do?”

  She gave him a sweet smile. Throughout her speech he’d just stood there, his handsome face a stone mask, his body rigid. She wouldn’t have known he was alive except for eyes that blazed with black fire.

  “You may return to your army now, Captain,” she said. “I’m done with you.”

  ’Ring looked from one man to the other, then at Maddie and gave a little pull to the brim of his hat. “Good evening, ma’am,” he said, then turned, walked around Edith, and went to his horse. A step behind him was Toby, who looked with some awe at Sam, then he winked at Maddie before he mounted his army-issue horse.

  They weren’t completely out of earshot before Maddie started laughing. Frank chuckled too, and even Sam smiled, but Edith didn’t.

  “He ain’t gonna like what you said to him,” Edith snapped.

  “I didn’t like what he said to me!”

  “Yeah, well, a woman was born to take whatever a man gives her, but a man ain’t used to it.”

  “Then I shall start a new trend of women not taking what a man offers,” she snapped, then calmed. “Oh well, it doesn’t matter, we’ve seen the last of him.” Sam made a movement, nodding his head toward the hill where the two men had sat, and watched them through a spyglass. “Yes,” Maddie said. “I think an extra watch tonight might be appropriate.”

  She turned away as Frank lit the lamps. She thought she might go to bed so that she could get an early start in the morning. She smiled again. So much for the army, she thought.

  “Scare her, huh?” Toby was saying as they sat around the campfire eating army hardtack. “That lady don’t seem like she’s scared of nothin’!” He chuckled in admiration. “I didn’t see either one of them men, didn’t even know they was there until they stepped out. Where do you think they was? That big one, I could believe he was in hell and just come up through the earth, but the other one—”

  “Could you keep your mouth shut for a few minutes?” ’Ring snapped.

  Toby didn’t have the least intention of being quiet. “She sure is a looker, ain’t she? You think a woman pretty as she is can sing?”

  ’Ring tossed out the dregs of his coffee. “No. If she’s a singer, I’m a liar.”

  “And you ain’t that, are you, boy?” Toby’s eyes were dancing. “You just told her the truth, that she didn’t know nothin’ about nothin’. ’Course you never asked her if she had a couple of plug-uglies to take care of her, you just told her. She sure didn’t like that, did she? Said you made more noise than…what was that?”

  “An opera,” ’Ring said loudly. “She mentioned the name of an opera. Don’t you have something else to do, old man, besides flap your jaws?”

  “Oooeee, I hope you don’t scare me as bad as you scared that little lady. Where you goin’?”

  ’Ring mounted his horse. “Don’t expect me back before morning.”

  Toby frowned. “I hope you ain’t plannin’ nothin’ stupid. That big one looks like he could break you in half.”

  “That’s more difficult than it seems.” ’Ring reined his horse away into the trees. When he was some distance away from Toby and away from the singer’s coach, he dismounted, removed his saddle bags, and pulled out everything. In the very bottom was a roll of leather and inside of the roll was a round tin box. He hadn’t looked at these objects for a couple of months, but he knew he needed them now.

  As he began to undress, his mind went back to the evening. It wasn’t the humiliation that bothered him, or even that he was humiliated by a woman, no, a man could stand words, but what bothered him was that she was getting in the way of an order. The army had given him an order, and no matter how much he didn’t want to carry out the order, he meant to do it no matter what was said to the contrary.

  So, she thought she was safe in this country, did she? She thought she was safe because she had two men watching over her. It was true ’Ring hadn’t been aware of the men skulking in the shadows of the coach—he accepted the blame for that—but when he had seen them, he hadn’t been intimidated. The short one, Frank, had a cloudy left eye. If he wasn’t blind on that side, he was close to it. With the black man, for all that his skin was tight and he appeared to be ageless, ’Ring detected a slight stiffness in his movements, and when he stood, he favored his right knee. It was his guess that the man was older than he looked and his right leg gave him a great deal of pain. As for the woman and her knives, he dismissed her. There was lust and longing in her eyes and he suspected he had merely to smile at her and she’d drop her knives.

  As for the singer, this LaReina, she was the most difficult to read. He thought he’d known her when he first saw her. She seemed soft and wide-eyed. She seemed as though she was listening to every word he said. She appeared to be a lady, what with her manners of offering Toby tea from her fine dishes. None of the officers’ wives would have offered a private, especially one who looked like Toby, so much as a smile. Yet this opera singer had.

  As ’Ring removed the last of his clothing, he knew that the woman did need an escort. Perhaps General Yovington had realized that and that’s why he’d asked for an army man. The choice of Lieutenant Surrey was an odd one, though. ’Ring remembered him as a quiet man who kept to himself. There wasn’t much els
e to remember about him except that once he’d been accused of cheating. The general must have had good reasons for his choice.

  Whoever he’d chosen to escort her, the general had certainly been perceptive enough to realize that she did indeed need someone with her. Perhaps the general could tell that she was a woman who was as soft as talcum powder but believed herself to be tough and invincible. She seemed to think she’d have no trouble in the gold country in spite of the fact that she was the prettiest thing he’d seen in years.

  When he was nude, he fastened the breech cloth about his hips, stepped into tall, soft moccasins, tied a knife about his waist, then opened the can of vermilion.

  Her prettiness was a problem. Maybe he could keep the miners away from her, but how was he going to keep her away from the miners? Perhaps the general meant the woman’s escort to keep her pure and chaste, to see that she didn’t have trysts with other men.

  As he dipped his fingers in the powdered vermilion, he shrugged. He was a soldier. He had no reason to question what was behind his orders. He just meant to obey them.

  Maddie was deeply asleep, dreaming that she was singing at La Scala with Adelina Patti. The audience booed and hissed at Patti, then began chanting, “LaReina, LaReina.”

  She was smiling in her sleep when the bright light of a match being struck then a lamp being lit woke her. She blinked a few times, not wanting to open her eyes. “Edith, put out that light,” she murmured, and started to turn over. Something was holding her hand above her head. Sleepily, she pulled on it, then awakened a bit to pull harder. Her hand wouldn’t move. Suddenly, in a panic, she started to sit up, but it seemed that both her hands and both her feet were tied to the cot. She opened her mouth to scream.

  “Go ahead and scream. I can assure you that no one will come to your rescue.”

  She closed her mouth and turned to see Captain Montgomery sitting on the floor in the middle of the tent, calmly smoking a thin cigar. But it was such a different Captain Montgomery that at first she almost didn’t recognize him. He wore only a leather loincloth, leaving his long, strong-looking legs bare, as well as a good portion of his muscular buttocks. His chest was bare except for a great deal of hair and three marks of vermilion at one shoulder. He also had stripes of the brilliant red-orange powder across one cheek.

  Perhaps she should have been afraid of him, but she’d never been less afraid of anyone in her life. She knew exactly what he was doing: She’d hurt his pride and now he was getting her back—just like any little boy would do.

  “How kind of you to drop in on me like this, Captain, and what an interesting play-outfit. But you’d better release me before Sam finds out. He doesn’t have the sense of humor that I do.”

  He took a long draw on his cigar. “I took care of both men and your maid before I came in here.”

  She pulled against the ropes holding her. “If you’ve hurt any of my people, I’ll see you’re hung.”

  “Hanged.”

  “What?”

  “The word is hanged, not hung. Hung is when God gives a man a special gift. Hanged is when men put a rope around somebody’s neck.”

  “A special gift? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh? I would have thought you knew a great deal, what with the general and all.”

  It was at that moment that Maddie understood what he was saying. His playing dress-up and tying her to a bed to prove a point didn’t make her angry, but his insinuation that there was something between her and the general did. “How dare you!” she gasped. “I’ll report you to your commanding officer for this. I’ll see that you’re hung—hanged—damn you, drawn and quartered, if you don’t release me this minute.”

  “Careful. You’re making enough noise that the chorus of…what was that? La something, wasn’t it?”

  “La Traviata, you boorish, backwoods, overgrown army mule! Release me!”

  He slowly stood up and stretched. “If I’d been an Indian, I could have had your scalp by now, or a white man could have had anything he wanted.”

  “Is that supposed to frighten me? Why in the world would an Indian want to risk starting a war just for my scalp?”

  He sat down on the edge of the cot and looked at her. “Haven’t you heard how the Indians ravage white women, how they lust for their beauty?”

  “Does all your reading matter consist of dime novels?”

  He looked away and took a deep draw on the cigar. “You seem to know some about Indians. How does a duchess from Lanconia, isn’t it, know about Indians?”

  Maddie started to tell him the truth but decided she’d be damned if she would. She wasn’t going to give this man the time of day if she could get out of it. “How very perceptive of you, Captain,” she said, practically purring at him. “The truth is that an old mountain man—you know, the men who used to trap the furs in the West—came to Lanconia and lived with us. As a child he used to dandle me on his knee and tell me lots of wonderful stories—true stories.”

  “So now you’ve come west to see the land he told you about.”

  “Oh, yes. And to sing too. I’m rather good at singing.”

  He moved away from the cot, and while his back was turned Maddie struggled with the ropes, but the knots were intricate and well tied.

  Abruptly, he glanced back at her, but she was quicker, and when he looked she was lying there peacefully, smiling at him.

  “I’ve told you I don’t think you should go into the camps. They’re a rough lot and I’m afraid for your safety.”

  Afraid you’ll have to follow me around, she thought, but she continued smiling. “I’ll be safe and you can return to your army. I promise I will write General Yovington the nicest letter possible. He’s a sweet man.”

  “I would imagine you’d know.”

  She clamped her teeth together. “I assure you, sir, that the general’s interest in me is purely artistic.”

  “Artistic?”

  Yes, you half-naked dodo bird, she thought. Artistic. But she smiled at him. “My singing. The man likes to hear me sing. If you would be so kind as to remove these ropes, I would sing for you.”

  He gave her a patronizing little smile that made anger run through her like oil on a hot skillet: she was almost sizzling.

  “Opera?” he asked. “No thanks.”

  She gave a sigh of exasperation. “All right, Captain, let’s get down to it and stop this charade. You’ve bested my men, my maid, and me. You win. Now, what do you want?”

  “The army has ordered me to accompany you, and that’s what I plan to do. That is, if you don’t have sense enough to listen to reason.”

  “Reason being my doing whatever it is you want me to do, is that right? No, sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.” She took a breath. “Captain, you may be one of the few people left on earth who doesn’t like to hear a singer of my caliber, but I can assure you that millions of people around the world are not so—” She meant to say pigheaded, stubborn, or stupid, but thought better of it. “Not so unaware. They would like to hear me sing.”

  “Good idea. I’m all for music, but—”

  “How generous of you.”

  He ignored her remark. “But I think you should go back to the States, wait a few years until this land is more settled, and then return to sing.”

  She took another breath to calm herself, and when she spoke, she spoke as though to a not very bright child. “Captain Montgomery, perhaps you’ve heard this before, but a singer’s voice is not a permanent thing. It is an unfortunate fact of life, but I will not always be able to sing. As it is now, I’m twenty-five and not even at my peak, but I need to sing while I can, and I want to sing for these poor, lonely men. No, more than that, I am going to sing in the gold camps.”

  He looked down at her. “You’re stubborn, aren’t you?”

  “Me? I am stubborn? You have been told in every way possible that you are not wanted, not needed, yet here you are playing Indian in the middle of the night and tying up so
me poor, defenseless female.”

  He almost smiled at her, but he did sit on the cot and lean over her to untie her hands. His skin was warm and tan, and she thought he must run around in just a breech cloth a great deal to be tanned all over as he was.

  When her hands were untied she sat up and rubbed her wrists and watched while he untied her ankles. The moment she was free, she pushed at him and sprang off the cot. He caught her around the waist before she reached the tent flap and dropped her onto the cot, then towered over her, glowering.

  “You have any whiskey?” he asked after a long moment of glowering. “I think I need some.”

  “Serving firewater to Indians is illegal.”

  “Don’t push me anymore. I’ve had all I’m going to take from you.”

  “In the little trunk is a bottle.”

  He went to the trunk, turning his back on her, but when she so much as moved her foot, he looked back at her, but she just smiled.

  He took a glass from the trunk also and poured himself a healthy shot, downed it, and poured another. “The way I see it is that there are two choices: You either don’t go on your singing tour or you go with me as your escort.”

  “That’s like giving me a choice of different ways to die.”

  He raised one eyebrow at her. “I can assure that my company isn’t generally considered to be bad.”

  “Please spare me the listing of your romantic conquests. I am not interested.”

  The whiskey seemed to be having an effect on him, as he could feel himself relaxing. “What are you interested in, ma’am?”

  “Singing, singing, and singing. And my family also. That’s about it.”

  He was beginning to feel so relaxed that he thought he’d better sit down, so he sat on the floor, leaning against the trunk. “Your family. Little dukes and duchesses. Do they sing too?”

  “Not much, but they’re great with buffalo guns.”

  “Ah, yes, hunting.” His eyes were feeling heavy. “If you must go and sing, I’ll go with you and protect you.”