Kate frowned, glancing at the wall. “Where?”
He closed the distance between them. “Just there.” His thumb caressed her cheek.
She couldn’t seem to breathe, to move. She was tumbling, into his gaze, toward his embrace.
No, no, no. Such feelings were not in her plan. She had so much to do. He wouldn’t be here long. She had to take care of Danny. She knew the dangers of falling in love again.
Would those excuses be enough to convince her heart?
No, no, no. Where had these feelings come from? He wanted to hold her, to protect her as fiercely as she protected her son and these lands. But he had a job to do, men to lead. Lercher, Waxworth, Franklin, and the others were his family now. He was still atoning for his actions eight years ago. He had enough on his hands without the added responsibility of Kate and Danny.
He pulled away. “There. No harm done.”
“None at all,” she said, but her eyes narrowed as if she didn’t believe that. She turned away from him to inspect her son’s work.
Will blew out a breath. What had he been thinking to touch her that way? Sure, there’d been a drop of yellow paint on the golden tan of her skin, but he could have just let her know or offered her his handkerchief. There was no reason to let his thumb linger on the soft, smooth skin, so warm, so vibrant.
He marched himself down to the next shutter and gave it a shove. The hinges creaked in protest.
He had just finished tightening them when he heard the drum of a horse approaching. Kate and Danny also turned at the sound. Will had become accustomed to the movements of her guests. Most set out and returned at a leisurely pace. This rider galloped down the road, and Will caught sight of the cavalry coat and yellow-striped trousers a moment before he recognized O’Reilly. The Irishman careened into the yard and pulled up his horse so sharply it reared.
“Message from Captain Harris,” he barked as he settled to earth. “Forest fire raging to the southwest of Mammoth Hot Springs. He’s asking for our help to fight it.”
Will set the oil can on the porch rail and nodded to Kate. “I must go.” He started for the steps.
“Will, wait.”
The sound of his first name rather than the command pulled him up short. She moved to his side. Her misty eyes were wide, her lips trembled.
“Ma’am?” he asked.
She laid a hand on his arm. “Just . . . be careful.”
He smiled. “You’ve taught us well. We’ll be on the watch for any danger.”
She released him and stepped back, and he went to fetch Bess from where he’d left her in the corral beside the barn.
He and O’Reilly cantered back to camp together. “Who brought the news, Private?” he asked as they rounded the bend from the Geyser Gateway. Something tugged at him, like a hand on his shoulder, urging him back to the inn, but he shrugged it off.
“It was brought by the telephone,” O’Reilly said, awe creeping into his voice. The Yellowstone Park Association had put in telephones at all its hotels, allowing the Army free use. The messages ran down telegraph wires strung in discreet locations to prevent distracting from the wonders.
“Fellow from the hotel took down the words and carried the message over to us,” the Irishman continued. “Private Lercher was all for waiting until you returned, but Mr. Smith insisted we open it right then.”
“Smith was right,” Will said. “A message from headquarters should brook no delay. Did it mention whether the fire started from a lightning strike or some other cause?”
“Captain Harris wasn’t saying,” O’Reilly allowed. “But the clerk from the Fire Hole had his own opinion, he did. The story going about is that Jessup is back in the park and looking to take his revenge.” He spit over the side of his horse.
But the note held a bit more explanation when Will received it at camp. Captain Harris had ordered him to send three of his men north, while the rest remained on duty at the Lower Geyser Basin.
Three of his men. Not him. Harris was excluding him from any chance of valor or promotion. It seemed Will wasn’t the only one who thought he needed to do penance. Still, he knew who would most benefit from the opportunity.
“Smith and Franklin, with me,” he told his men. “Waxworth, Lercher, and O’Reilly, gather your kit. Report to Captain Harris at Mammoth Hot Springs. And gentlemen,” he added as they started for their tents, “do us proud. Mr. Jessup doesn’t get away with this.”
O’Reilly paused to salute. “Sir.”
Will’s stomach tightened as he watched his men ride north a short time later. What he’d told Kate was right—they knew the dangers. And they knew his and Captain Harris’s expectations of them. That had to be enough for them to reach Camp Sheridan with no repercussions, to them or to Yellowstone.
“We’ll need to adjust the routine,” he told Smith and Franklin as they finished a dinner of salt pork and beans Waxworth had started earlier. “We’ll each take a watch at night. Private Smith, I expect you to pick up the cooking.”
Smith raised a dark brow. “You’re a braver man than I took you for, Lieutenant.”
Franklin hastily added a second helping to his plate, as if concerned it might be their last decent meal.
Will chose not to respond to Smith directly. “We’ll alternate patrols during the day. I’ll take mornings with Smith and afternoons with Franklin. That way Smith can be in camp to cook dinner, and Franklin can work mornings on the cabin.”
Franklin shook his head. “I appreciate your faith in me, Lieutenant, and this opportunity to prove I’m more than a horse soldier, but I can’t make much progress on my own.”
“And I imagine the Widow Tremaine will miss your company if you must patrol all day,” Smith put in, sliding a sliver of wood into his mouth like a cigar.
“I’ve
