But courting implied taking a chance, the willingness to make a commitment. She was a mother, a businesswoman. Did she really want to take a chance on marrying anyone again?
But it wasn’t anyone, it was Will. And she knew the answer was yes.
Yes, she was willing to try. Yes, she was willing to offer her heart. Yes, she was falling in love.
“I’m coming to know you,” she told him as they neared the Golden Gate. “So I’m not approaching the matter of courting blindly. I have some inkling of your character. I’ve seen how well you treat Danny, your men, and my staff and guests. You have an orderly disposition and a kind heart.”
His brows quirked. “You might withhold judgment until you know all.”
“What more is there to know?”
They clattered onto the bridge, the world dropping away on one side. When he still didn’t answer as they reached the road beyond, she glanced his way. His shoulders were hitched up, as if trying to carry a heavy load.
“Will?” she asked, stomach falling as if she’d gazed over the precipice. “What more should I know?”
“Forgive my hesitation,” he said, voice rougher than usual. “It’s not a pretty tale.”
Had she been wrong to trust him? As with Toby, had she rushed in without sufficient consideration? Had she risked the reputation of the Geyser Gateway, the safety of her son, the depths of her heart, on a phantom? The very idea made her throat tight.
“Perhaps I should hear it,” she allowed.
He nodded as if accepting his fate. “You may wish you hadn’t, but very well. When I joined the Army in Boston, I was sure I was bound for glory. Worse, I was a cocky recruit: brash, undisciplined. But I managed to distinguish myself and rise in rank quickly. I’m ashamed to say I didn’t pay much attention to the men under my command. Advancement and recognition were all that mattered.”
She found it hard to reconcile the person he described with the man riding beside her, face guarded. “You must have mended your ways.”
“Dishonor forces a man to see things differently.”
“Dishonor!” She wasn’t sure what to say, how to react, only that the word could have no association with this man. “How could you possibly act dishonorably?”
He shook his head, but at her disbelieving tone or his own actions, she wasn’t sure. “Far too easily, I assure you. We’d been sent to Oregon to chase Bannock, who had left their reservation. A rancher wanted to thank us for our efforts. He invited me and my men to dinner. I took the offer, but I sent my men on patrol. You see, the rancher had a pretty daughter, and I didn’t want her distracted from fawning over me.”
“Well, that was a bit arrogant,” Kate acknowledged. “But I’ve heard of men doing far worse.”
He glanced her way, and his eyes were hollow. “It was worse than I could have imagined. My men were understandably angry about being slighted. They happened upon a band of Bannock women and children while on patrol. They slaughtered them, every last one.”
Bile rose in her throat, and Aster stuttered in her step. “No!”
“Yes,” he said, voice now merciless. “I carry their blood on my hands, Kate. If I had been where I should have been, if I had led my men as I should, I would have seen those families escorted to safety. But I wasn’t there. Because of my selfishness, they died. I will never forgive myself.”
Emotions swarmed her—revulsion, denial, disgust. He had made an error, and the consequences were too high. Nothing she could say, nothing he could do, would ever erase that.
“Those poor people, caught in the middle,” she murmured. “But your men bear a greater shame. They had a clear duty, and they failed.”
He guided Bess down the road toward the flats, his shadow rippling across the boulders beside them. “Easy to say when you haven’t faced hostiles. My men were jittery, afraid of an ambush. Anyone who looked remotely like the enemy was to be destroyed.”
“You’re making excuses for them,” Kate said, holding Aster steady as they descended. “The mere presence of the children should have warned them this was not a band bent on fighting. I cannot see this as anything but a tragedy, for all concerned.”
His face was so tight she wondered he could speak. “The Army saw it even more harshly. My sergeant was hanged, my corporals sent to prison for three years. My men were reassigned to better leaders. And I, the cause of it all, I was demoted to corporal, stripped of the spurs every cavalryman treasures, and given a month of hard labor, as if those were just punishments for the harm I’d caused.”
His lips curled, as if he tasted something bitter, but she thought the bitterness was inside him. He expected her censure, was sure he deserved it.
“I don’t know much about the inner workings of the Army,” she said. “But I was under the impression it wasn’t easy to break through the noncommissioned officer ranks to lieutenant. That would be even harder after a disciplinary action, I would imagine. And yet here you are, and not solely on bravado, I think.”
“I’ve done all I can to be worthy of the rank this time,” he acknowledged.
And still didn’t think it was enough. She couldn’t help remembering his statement earlier, about not raising her expectations. “Then I suppose befriending me and Danny has just been part of your penance.”
His gaze met hers. “Everything I do is in penance.”
Kate smiled though her heart protested. “Thank you for telling me, Will. You’re right. I could have mistaken your attentions for something more.”
He reined in, and she pulled Aster to a stop as well. The horses were not breathing nearly as heavily as
