“I didn’t realize.”
“A tragedy and a disgrace the Army won’t soon recover from.”
Charlotte bowed her head, seeing Chace stare down the empty valley.
Lenore frowned inwardly. Then she straightened and put away her thoughts. “By all means, use the schoolroom. I’ll get you more paper. Can you imagine? Letterhead’s one of the few things out here that Congress is willing to pay for.”
“Thank you,” Charlotte said. “And I do want you to know that every time one of those mountain men shows up, they get me instead of Ada.”
Lenore laughed. “More than they bargained for.”
“Definitely. Or they get the both of us, which is even worse.”
<>
August heat rose up from the ground, stifling in the rooms with one window and one door. Just when the heat seemed unbearable, a thunderstorm rolled across the prairie, blasting rain against the buildings, turning the parade ground into a churning sea of mud. When the lightning cracked directly overhead and thunder coming right on top of it shook the ground, everyone held onto each other. Then the wind came up to a roar and hail beat against the windows, piling up in misshapen balls of ice on the porch. Within days the blazing heat returned along with a full moon that lit the darkened rooms with an eerie midnight glow.
The vegetables and melons in the fort’s garden came ripe. Charlotte showed the young kitchen soldiers how to pickle carrots and onions, how to roast corn. Raspberries covered the canes on the bank above the river and raspberry bread appeared and quickly disappeared from the sutler’s store. Any wagon trains pushing through this late with the mountains still ahead of them were regarded with dismay. So many graves along the trail resulted from bad luck, so why add to the already unfavorable odds with just plain bad decisions.
Brewster’s birthday arrived and it seemed he’d grown at least three inches while waiting for it. Grace knew her numbers. Jeremy could write sentences. Ada was regaining her original self, losing the reserve and sadness that had haunted her, acquiring a shape and the amazing but certainly more annoying accompaniments of womanhood.
While Charlotte baked and gave cooking instructions in the mess hall, she also slowly went about learning who could possibly shoot a rifle and hit something. With that information in hand plus some monetary exchange, she managed to secure fourteen quail for Brewster’s birthday celebration.
“Fourteen,” Brewster said, regarding her with sincere appreciation. “For my birthday?” He sat down and seemed momentarily overwhelmed. Then he rallied. “I don’t think even I could have done that.” Charlotte raised an eyebrow, then laughed.
As a chicken had still not made its appearance, Charlotte baked another eggless chocolate cake, this time with raspberry filling. She roasted the quail with bacon. She cooked wild greens and rice. It was a feast. Candles filled the table again and the room glowed.