O’Reilly leaned away from the table, mouth working. Will fixed his eyes on him, warning him not to spit.
“That the Irish are a generous and kindhearted people,” Franklin put in loudly.
“Villing to overlook the faults in others,” Lercher added with a smile to O’Reilly.
O’Reilly settled in his chair, but he accepted the tureen and served himself and Franklin a heaping pile.
“Sounds as if I won’t have to worry about you overwintering this year,” Kingman told Kate as Pansy began taking away the dishes. Most were empty, but Waxworth snatched the last bit of steak off the platter. Will was just glad he used his fork.
Kate smiled at Will. “No, indeed. This winter I’ll have the assistance of the cavalry.”
Will’s men beamed at her.
She turned to the engineer, smile fading. “I’m a little concerned about next spring, though. Captain Harris only renewed my lease until then.”
Kingman shook his head. “Shortsighted. I’m sure he’ll see the wisdom of renewing.”
“Perhaps you could put a word in his ear,” Kate suggested.
He laughed. “A cavalry officer, listening to an engineer? That would be novel.”
Will wasn’t the only one to glower at him, but Alberta came through the door bearing a pumpkin pie, and all attention turned her way.
A short while later, Miss Pringle spoke up.
“At what time would you like us to be ready for the baseball game tomorrow, Lieutenant Prescott?”
All gazes swung his way, and only Kate’s held sympathy.
“It wouldn’t be fair to play against Lieutenant Prescott, Miss Pringle,” Kingman answered for him. “My men have played for years. They’re quite good. His are somewhat unschooled.”
He didn’t seem to notice the number of glares directed his way again.
“Oh, I don’t know, Lieutenant,” Kate told the engineer. “They might surprise you. I’ve found Lieutenant Prescott’s men do well at anything they set their minds to.”
Waxworth nodded approval.
Will looked to Kingman, determination building. “So, what do you say, Lieutenant? Will you play an inning or two with me and my men?”
Kingman glanced down the table. O’Reilly grinned at him. Lercher cracked his knuckles.
“Six against four?” Kingman said, brows up. “Rather uneven.”
His sergeant leaned forward. “For them.”
O’Reilly snorted.
“Point taken,” Will said before tempers could flare. “And it would be seven against four in any event. I know Danny will want to play.”
A squeal from the kitchen told him the boy had been listening. Kate’s smile confirmed it.
Kingman drummed his finger on the table. “That still makes eleven. The teams will be uneven no matter how we divide the men.”
Mrs. Pettijohn opened her mouth, most likely to volunteer her services again, but Kate spoke first. “I’d like to play as well. If Lieutenant Prescott loans you two of his men, Lieutenant Kingman, the teams will be even, if not quite at the full complement of nine I understand is generally needed.”
Will thought Kingman might protest, but he apparently knew Kate well enough not to argue. “Very well. Lieutenant Prescott may have you and Danny, and I’ll take . . .” He glanced down the table. All Will’s men but Smith leaned back as if avoiding his gaze.
“Lercher and Franklin,” he finished.
Someone groaned.
“Done,” Will said. “Does half past nine give your staff time to finish serving breakfast, Mrs. Tremaine?”
She nodded. “That should be fine, Lieutenant.”
“Where exactly did you plan to play?” Smith put in. “I doubt Mrs. Tremaine would allow us to set up bases on the geyser field.”
“There’s a field across the road,” Kate offered. “We graze the horses and cows there.”
Kingman’s nose twitched. “And the evidence of their occupation might make for a difficult game.”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Pettijohn declared. “No cavalryman can possibly be concerned about a few horse droppings.”
Miss Pringle covered her rosebud mouth with her hand, eyes widening.
“Sure’n no cavalryman,” O’Reilly agreed with a look at Kingman’s sergeant. “But it’s probably above the high-and-mighty head of an engineer.”
“Gentlemen,” Kingman said as his sergeant looked daggers at O’Reilly. “No need for concern. There’s a meadow to the southwest, across the Firehole River. I saw it when I was surveying for the road two years ago. It ought to be big enough, with fewer . . . obstacles.”
Kate stiffened on her chair, but her voice came out calmly enough. “Not the best area for this sort of thing. I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t rife with burrows. Someone could break an ankle.”
“Oh!” Miss Pringle dropped her hand, eyes lighting. “And then we’d have to nurse him back to health.”
“We’ll check the ground before playing,” Kingman assured them both. “The late Mr. Tremaine and I walked this area several times. It is the most likely space. Unless you’ve discovered another, Kate.”
Her smile looked strained. “Perhaps you’re right. I’ll go out first thing in the morning to check it. It’s the least I can do as your hostess.”
The conversation moved on to other baseball games Kingman and his men had played, the positions they preferred to fill, how well they hit. He was trying to intimidate Will’s men, but, by the looks flashing between them, they were having none of it. Will was more concerned about Kate. She kept sinking her fork into the pie, but she never took another bite.
She’d told him she’d put the area to the southwest off-limits. Now she’d tried to warn Kingman away. What was she worried about? If the area held some danger, why not name it?
He didn’t have answers, but he knew one thing. She wouldn’t be going out there alone come morning.
17
Dawn was a smudge of gold to the east when Kate tiptoed out of the Geyser Gateway the next morning, knapsack slung over one shoulder. Steam from the hot pools lay like sleeping sheep over the crusty soil, and the only sound was the faint plop of the paint pots. Hitching her knapsack higher, she struck out for the Firehole River. At the edge of the pines, she paused to glance back at the hotel. Nothing moved. No one followed. She headed for the footbridge.
Birds sang from the trees as
