Will turned his attention to Mrs. Tremaine, whose eyes were narrowed on the coach as if she could will it out of the park.
“Let me know if you have any further trouble,” he told her.
Face clearing, she looked up at him. “Oh, I will. And please remember my invitation. You are welcome to dine with us anytime.”
“I appreciate the offer.” But perhaps it would be best if he refused from now on. He excused himself and went to see to Bess. The mare eyed him as if she understood full well he was running away.
“At least you know me,” he muttered to his mount.
And whose fault was it that his closest confidante was his horse?
Will sighed as he rode back toward his camp. Even now, the vast lands of the park seemed to settle around him. The elk had gone; the dusty road was empty to the north. No hawk called overhead. It was all too easy to feel alone.
But being alone was a decision in the Army. Despite Captain Harris’s admonitions, Will chose to spend more time among his men than the typical cavalry officer would. He’d learned a number of things about them. Lercher had a fondness for cinnamon. Franklin still wasn’t easy in the saddle. O’Reilly had a sweetheart who wrote to him at least once a week. They each had reasons for being in the Army. Lercher and Waxworth wanted promotion, O’Reilly a way to distinguish himself, Franklin the opportunity to move into the engineering corps, and Smith, if Will was right, the chance to begin a new life. As their superior, he could help them reach those goals.
Unfortunately, he knew more about them than any of them knew about him. Becoming close, to anyone, held challenges. Captain Harris had reviewed his service record, but Will’s men were in ignorance, as far as he could tell. At least no one had asked why a second lieutenant had made rank without earning his spurs, something even new recruits strived to do in their first few months. He could not confess how he’d earned them and lost them. His men had joined the regiment since that fateful day eight years ago, and most of the remaining parties involved had moved on. No one was left to tell the ignoble tale, unless he opened his mouth. So he didn’t open it any more than necessary.
A shame that didn’t stop him from remembering.
6
Will Prescott did not come to dinner. Kate wasn’t the only one who noticed.
“I thought Lieutenant Prescott was joining us,” Alberta said as she ladled some stew in a bowl for Danny.
“He has work to do, same as us,” Kate said, filling a cloth-lined basket with more of Alberta’s buttermilk biscuits for the guests in the dining room beyond.
“I saw him ride by,” Danny offered, perched on the chair at the worktable and foot swinging. “He didn’t stop.”
His disappointment echoed inside Kate. “He probably noticed there were no visitors on the geyser field. No reason to stop.”
Alberta humphed. “A man needs to eat. My Joe always remembered that. Mr. Tremaine as well, God rest their souls.”
Kate offered her a smile. Alberta had lost husband and son to the War Between the States. She’d been serving as a cook at a boardinghouse in her native Ohio when she’d seen an ad about a position in Yellowstone. Kate had asked her once why she’d taken such a chance, moved so far from everything she’d ever known.
“Too much darkness in my life back then,” she’d said. “I wanted to spend the rest of my days surrounded by beauty.”
She couldn’t have chosen a better place, to Kate’s mind.
Her latest visitors seemed to agree. Elijah had driven the Cavells and Sir Winston out of the park and would likely stay at least a day or so with his wife and son near Cinnabar. But the Wakefield and Hoffman stage driver had brought another eight visitors. They’d hurried out of the coach, chatting eagerly. From what they’d written in the guest book, they intended to stay only a night.
That was the way of the tourist trade in Yellowstone. Visitors came by rail to either Monida or Cinnabar, then traveled by coach, wagon, or pack train through the park for a week to ten days. Some camped. Most stayed in hotels. The stage companies escorted their groups from the rail station, through the park, and back. Some visitors who came on their own wrote ahead to secure a room. Others simply showed up at her door, expecting hospitality. Toward the end of the season, like now, she could more likely accommodate them.
As well as the circuit rider, Mr. Yates, who rode in just as the sun was setting that evening.
Mr. Yates was one of several ministers who traveled through the park each season. Kate was a little surprised someone hadn’t built a permanent chapel yet. Most of the circuit riders stopped at Mammoth Hot Springs and Old Faithful, but Mr. Yates had shown up at her door in June, and she’d given him permission to use the salon for services. He took his place before the stone hearth that morning, dark frock coat at odds with the natural colors of the stones. Her guests settled on the dining chairs, which Pansy and the other maids had lined up in front of him. Alberta and the rest of her staff slipped into the back row with Danny.
Kate stood in the doorway to the kitchen, drying dishes and only half listening as the minister opened in prayer and his makeshift congregation all bowed their heads. Beyond them, Will Prescott was coming in the front door. She thought he might join them, but he pulled
