“All of us, Private,” he said. “This Friday evening, if plans hold true.” He glanced around at the rest of his men. “You might start brushing off those dress uniforms. I understand this is to be a fancy affair.”
Lercher thrust out his broad chest. “Ve vill do honor to the troop and the Geyser Gateway, sir.”
“Count on us, Lieutenant,” Franklin agreed. “We’ll show those engineers to respect the cavalry.”
O’Reilly spit again.
As if he’d noticed, Waxworth scowled at the Irishman from the picket line. “None of that, now,” he called. “We’re gentlemen. We need to act the part.”
“Act being the correct word,” Smith drawled. He rose at last. “Do any of you know how to behave at a fancy dinner? Can you tell a water glass from a wine glass?”
Franklin stared at him. “They have two glasses?”
“Three if you count the cup for tea,” Smith informed him. “Just be glad there won’t be any difficult foods to eat. I doubt even the incomparable Alberta could find oysters on the half shell out here.”
Lercher was white. “They have them at the big hotel at Mammoth Hot Springs. Brought them in by rail, then freighted them into the park. Ve heard the staff sergeant speaking of it.”
Franklin gulped.
Will glanced around at his men. Waxworth was clinging to Bess’s bridle as if ready to mount and ride as far and fast as he could. Lercher shifted on his feet as if he would join him. Franklin was chewing his lip, and O’Reilly had his gaze on the ground. Only Smith seemed relaxed, looking at them and shaking his head.
“I suppose you know how to eat oysters,” Waxworth challenged him.
Smith offered him a little bow. “I spent some time on a Mississippi riverboat traveling from New Orleans. I know the difference between vichyssoise and bouillabaisse too.”
“Vichy what?” O’Reilly asked, gaze coming up wide in obvious panic.
“New order of the day,” Will announced, and everyone but Smith snapped to attention. “Two by two patrol, two hours on, two hours off. When not on patrol, report to Private Smith.”
The others stared at Smith.
Smith frowned, gaze on Will. “Why?”
“Because,” Will said, meeting his gaze, “you’ll be teaching us how to behave like gentlemen. The reputation of the regiment and the Geyser Gateway is at stake. No man under my command is going to be ridiculed for not knowing how to eat oysters.”
16
Any hopes they might delay the upcoming dinner were dashed when a Bassett Brothers stage driver brought back word on Thursday that Lieutenant Kingman and some of his men would be joining Kate for dinner the next day. While Will and his men continued their patrols, Kate and Alberta doubled their efforts to impress. Pansy moved from one task to another in a daze.
“It’s not as if Lieutenant Kingman is a guest,” she protested as she swept out the dining room. “I know he and his men are staying the night, but this isn’t the first time.”
Alberta brought out a mop and oil for the floor. “No, indeed. He’s been a good friend to the Geyser Gateway, and to Mr. and Mrs. Tremaine.”
Kate smiled as she accepted the mop from her. “Remember when he and Toby got into that argument as to what made a good road? Toby wanted the most scenic route. Lieutenant Kingman advocated the most practical.”
Alberta nodded, mouth turning up.
“Still,” Pansy said, “he’s just a first lieutenant. It isn’t as if the president is visiting!”
“He’s as important as the president,” Kate assured her as Alberta poured some oil onto the floor. “He can recommend we get a ten-year lease.”
Pansy gripped her broom and swept harder.
Alberta was even more vigilant in making sure everything was perfect. With no time to order supplies from outside the park, she sent Caleb to stop the meat wagon as it headed for the tent hotel at Old Faithful. The shy man-of-all-work returned triumphant with a dozen beef steaks. Alberta planned to serve them with mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans with bacon, and apple preserves, with pumpkin pie for dessert.
Kate juggled preparations with seeing to her other guests. Though most came and went as usual, two pitched in to assist, despite her protests.
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Pettijohn said when Kate suggested she spend her time on Yellowstone’s wonders instead of ironing the tablecloths. “It is our Christian duty to help those in need.”
“Of course,” her sister agreed, stitching up the hem on one of the tablecloths. “And it is ever-so-nice to feel a part of something important.”
“Now, now,” Mrs. Pettijohn said, iron moving briskly. “You were a great comfort to Mother and Father until they passed.”
Miss Pringle held up the hem as if to inspect her work. “But you and Mr. Pettijohn were much more influential.” She looked to Kate. “They were abolitionists.”
Mrs. Pettijohn’s heavy face turned pink, as if she was embarrassed by her sister’s admiration. “We simply did what was right, as are you, Mrs. Tremaine.”
Kate would never have compared her efforts to protect Yellowstone with ending slavery, but she thanked the ladies for their praise and their help.
Mr. Jones had no interest in helping. Each morning, he asked about any animal sightings, then declared his intent to fish. But he never brought back any trout, even though the Firehole was brimming.
“He isn’t very good at the sport,” Miss Pringle confided to Kate as they dusted the salon.
“He is likely exceptional,” her sister argued. “He may be one of those who catches fish for the challenge of it and promptly releases them again.”
Miss Pringle’s feather duster paused as she frowned. “But how would he know which he’d caught previously?”
“Maybe he recognizes them,” Danny suggested as he brought in a load of wood and dropped it into the brass stand by the hearth. “I bet each fish is different, like people.”
Danny was everywhere. He ran from one chore to another. He had generally been in bed when Toby and Lieutenant Kingman had talked, but he remembered the tall engineer. And he was filled with questions. How many
