fort?”
Jeremiah calculated the answer. The number varied on a monthly, if not weekly, basis. “The number of officers is fairly stable. In addition to Captain Peate and myself, there’s one more lieutenant and eight sergeants. A couple of them are married.” If he could limit her mission to the officers, perhaps no harm would result from her interference.
“I discussed that with Mrs. Peate. She suggested I make sets for everyone—maybe even for the wives themselves. I need an exact number of the soldiers and their wives.”
Cornered, Jeremiah gave her the total.
Annie jotted the numbers down. “Mr. Finnegan—the owner of the mercantile—has ordered extra yarn.” She turned her hand over, palm up, and studied it. “The men’s hands will be larger than mine, of course. Is anyone an unusual size? Any six-fingered hands?” She grinned at her own joke.
The conversation continued in much the same vein, her questions stretching Jeremiah’s knowledge of the men under his care. By the time the interview ended, Mrs. Bliss had refilled his plate twice more, once with a ham sandwich, and again with a bowl of bacon-flavored green beans. When she gave him corn bread fresh from the oven, he raised his hand in protest. He was already full enough that he would battle drowsiness during his evening duties.
Annie frowned at her notepaper. She made a few more calculations and set the pencil down. “I have all the information I need. I should have a good start within ten days. When would you like for me to return to the fort?”
“That’s not wise.” Jeremiah knew his refusal sounded harsh, but he would not tempt his men, nor would he put Annie in harm’s way. “It would be best if someone from the fort comes here to get them.” Like the next time Mrs. Peate came to town for her shopping.
“Lovely.” Mrs. Bliss answered instead of Annie. “Plan on taking your lunch with us on Tuesday next.”
Not me again
. But to refuse the invitation would be rude. “I, uh, will of course let you know if anything comes up to prevent my return.” He would prefer a gunfight to facing down two such charming ladies. History had proven his weakness when it came to women.
From her spot at the window, Annie watched Jeremiah’s back until horse and rider disappeared from view. He confused her more than any man she had ever met. At times he was as grouchy as a bear intent on finding food. Other times she glimpsed a cuddly cub that was hurting and wanted his mother.
Children ran and skipped down the street. Where had the day fled that school had already dismissed? With a sigh, she turned back in her mother’s direction. “Do you need help with supper?”
“No, go ahead and get started on your knitting.” Her mother shooed her out of the kitchen.
Annie took a skein of navy blue yarn and cast stitches onto the needles. Three rows later she realized she had miscounted the first row, and she unraveled everything back to the first knot.
Her mother joined her in the parlor and pinned her with one of those looks. “So…tell me.”
Annie tucked her tongue in her cheek while she finished counting the row. Once again she had miscalculated the number of stitches. She pulled them off the needle with a savage yank. The story about the conversation between the laundress and the “Bear” poured out of her. “I can’t decide whether he’s a bear waking up from his winter’s nap or a bear cub that’s, well…” Heat rushed to her face.
“As cute as a baby kitten?” Mama’s voice held a hint of laughter. “He’s probably both. No one is all good or bad all the time.”
“Not even Pa?” Annie dared to ask.
A faraway look swept across her mother’s face. “You wouldn’t know it to see him now, but he was as rough as a man can be who has spent most of his life only among other men.” Mama picked up one of the boys’ trousers for mending. “And we’ve both heard how grouchy Norman Keller was the first time Gladys
Jeremiah calculated the answer. The number varied on a monthly, if not weekly, basis. “The number of officers is fairly stable. In addition to Captain Peate and myself, there’s one more lieutenant and eight sergeants. A couple of them are married.” If he could limit her mission to the officers, perhaps no harm would result from her interference.
“I discussed that with Mrs. Peate. She suggested I make sets for everyone—maybe even for the wives themselves. I need an exact number of the soldiers and their wives.”
Cornered, Jeremiah gave her the total.
Annie jotted the numbers down. “Mr. Finnegan—the owner of the mercantile—has ordered extra yarn.” She turned her hand over, palm up, and studied it. “The men’s hands will be larger than mine, of course. Is anyone an unusual size? Any six-fingered hands?” She grinned at her own joke.
The conversation continued in much the same vein, her questions stretching Jeremiah’s knowledge of the men under his care. By the time the interview ended, Mrs. Bliss had refilled his plate twice more, once with a ham sandwich, and again with a bowl of bacon-flavored green beans. When she gave him corn bread fresh from the oven, he raised his hand in protest. He was already full enough that he would battle drowsiness during his evening duties.
Annie frowned at her notepaper. She made a few more calculations and set the pencil down. “I have all the information I need. I should have a good start within ten days. When would you like for me to return to the fort?”
“That’s not wise.” Jeremiah knew his refusal sounded harsh, but he would not tempt his men, nor would he put Annie in harm’s way. “It would be best if someone from the fort comes here to get them.” Like the next time Mrs. Peate came to town for her shopping.
“Lovely.” Mrs. Bliss answered instead of Annie. “Plan on taking your lunch with us on Tuesday next.”
Not me again
. But to refuse the invitation would be rude. “I, uh, will of course let you know if anything comes up to prevent my return.” He would prefer a gunfight to facing down two such charming ladies. History had proven his weakness when it came to women.
From her spot at the window, Annie watched Jeremiah’s back until horse and rider disappeared from view. He confused her more than any man she had ever met. At times he was as grouchy as a bear intent on finding food. Other times she glimpsed a cuddly cub that was hurting and wanted his mother.
Children ran and skipped down the street. Where had the day fled that school had already dismissed? With a sigh, she turned back in her mother’s direction. “Do you need help with supper?”
“No, go ahead and get started on your knitting.” Her mother shooed her out of the kitchen.
Annie took a skein of navy blue yarn and cast stitches onto the needles. Three rows later she realized she had miscounted the first row, and she unraveled everything back to the first knot.
Her mother joined her in the parlor and pinned her with one of those looks. “So…tell me.”
Annie tucked her tongue in her cheek while she finished counting the row. Once again she had miscalculated the number of stitches. She pulled them off the needle with a savage yank. The story about the conversation between the laundress and the “Bear” poured out of her. “I can’t decide whether he’s a bear waking up from his winter’s nap or a bear cub that’s, well…” Heat rushed to her face.
“As cute as a baby kitten?” Mama’s voice held a hint of laughter. “He’s probably both. No one is all good or bad all the time.”
“Not even Pa?” Annie dared to ask.
A faraway look swept across her mother’s face. “You wouldn’t know it to see him now, but he was as rough as a man can be who has spent most of his life only among other men.” Mama picked up one of the boys’ trousers for mending. “And we’ve both heard how grouchy Norman Keller was the first time Gladys