The letterhead bore the seal of the President of the United States and was signed by Ulysses S. Grant.
Willoughby walked around his desk and handed the wallet to Zak.
“I understand, sir. I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right, Major. You didn’t know. Now you do.”
“There are stories about you, you know.”
“I know. I ignore them. You should do the same.”
“Yes, sir,” Willoughby said.
Jeffords returned with a glass of water and a pitcher. He set the pitcher on the desk and handed Zak the water. Together, he and Zak propped Colleen up in the chair. Zak held the glass to her lips and poured a small amount into her mouth.
She swallowed and her eyelids batted twice. She choked on a few drops, spluttered and opened her eyes wide. Sitting up straight, she reached out for Zak. It was a reflexive motion, much like a drowning person deploys toward a rescuer. Her fingers squeezed Zak’s arms as she gulped in air.
“I—I’m sorry,” she said. “I—I must have fainted.”
She saw Jeffords kneeling there before her and her gaze locked on his.
“My brother. Ted. You said…”
“He’s missing, Miss O’Hara. I’m sorry. I just found out this morning. I came here to report this to Major Willoughby.”
“How? Why?”
Jeffords stood up and stepped aside. He gestured to Willoughby, who cleared his throat and walked over to stand in front of her.
“Ted rode out with a patrol early yesterday morning,” Willoughby said. “We had reason to believe some Apaches were banding together on the San Simon. The patrol encountered no hostiles, but last night, apparently, your brother turned up missing. Tom ran into the patrol early this morning. They were tracking a small band of Apaches.”
“They think Ted was grabbed during the night,” Jeffords said. “We don’t know why. They took his horse, too, so we know he’s still alive.”
“The patrol is still out?” Zak asked.
Willoughby nodded.
“They must find him,” Colleen said. “Do you think they will, Mr. Jeffords?”
“There’s a chance,” he said.
Colleen opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it.
Just then a young lieutenant knocked on the door.
“Enter,” Willoughby said.
“Sir, you’d better take a look at what we’ve got out there. It’s pretty grim.”
“All right, Neighbors. I’ll be right there.”
“It’s in front of the livery, sir.”
The young man saluted and left the room.
“Can I stay in Ted’s quarters?” Colleen asked.
“No, it’s not private,” Willoughby said. “We have a billet for you, though.”
“I’d at least like to see Ted’s room. And my carpetbag’s still inside the coach. My suitcase is on top.”
“We’ll see that you’re accommodated, Miss O’Hara. Just let me sort all this out.”
“You’re right. You have more important things to worry about right now. I’ll go with you and get my things.”
“I’ll see to it that you’re shown to your quarters and someone carries your luggage for you.” Willoughby swept past her. Jeffords followed. Zak took her arm and led her outside.
A crowd had gathered in front of the livery. All four coach doors stood wide open. Zak was surprised to see several white women in the crowd. The women all turned to look at Colleen, and some of them smiled at her.
Willoughby and Jeffords looked inside the coach. When the major finished his inspection, his complexion had turned ashen. He looked as if he had been kicked in the stomach. Jeffords took longer. When he turned around, he looked at Zak, shook his head.
“You might want to introduce yourself to the women, Colleen,” Zak said. “I’ll get your carpetbag and suitcase for you.”
“Thank you,” she said.
