Hearts Entwined: A Historical Romance Novella Collection

  They reached Fort Reno safely, and when Ambrosia saw the stately houses on Officer’s Row, she immediately began to fret about being unpresentable, but Bradley thought she’d never looked better.

  They soon found themselves standing at the door of Major Adams’s house with trail dust, sweat, and camel hair still pestering them. When the door opened, Bradley stood back to allow Captain Herald and Ambrosia to enter before him. He would salute his commander, but he was really watching for his sister. He couldn’t wait to introduce her to Amber. Meeting his cultured, refined sister would raise everyone’s opinion of him.

  “Captain Herald, I’m delighted to have you at Fort Reno. And thanks for leaving your herd outside the campgrounds. I’d rather not make a shamble of our stables,” Major Adams said as the two men shook hands fondly.

  “I’m only glad we were able to communicate with Lieutenant Hennessey before he and his men came too close. You have a fine command here, sir, and all of my dealings with your troops have been beneficial.”

  Major Adams stared pointedly at Bradley. “All of them?”

  Bradley glanced at Amber. She looked like she’d been through the ringer, but her smile was priceless.

  Captain Herald laughed. “When I told you to send a headstrong young man who could endure my daughter’s sharp tongue, I never imagined you’d find someone who suited her so perfectly.”

  Bradley couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “What?” Ambrosia asked. “I thought you sent for someone who knew Indian Territory.”

  “What good is a guide if he doesn’t have the backbone to keep you in your place? You ran off all the cowboys.” Captain Herald turned to the major. “This is my dear daughter, the one we named after General Ambrose Burnside. In retrospect, Ulyssia would’ve been more appropriate.”

  “Ambrose Burnside?” Bradley gawked at Amber. “The one with the, uh, very ambitious facial hair? That’s who you were named after? What happened to the food of the gods?”

  “I prefer to put my own interpretation on the story.” She raised an eyebrow, daring him to contradict her.

  “Maybe steak and taters aren’t enough, after all,” he said, making her smile while leaving the officers to wonder.

  The danger of falling in love on a journey was that both parties were adrift in a foreign land. What if he looked heroic when he was the only man around besides one’s father? What if he was attentive there, but then completely ignored you when his friends arrived? So many unknowns.

  But seeing Fort Reno, meeting Bradley’s charming sister—who seemed shocked to realize that Bradley’s infatuation was reciprocated—and watching his peers welcome him home and congratulate him on his success only increased Amber’s appreciation of the brave man who’d gotten her safely through the journey. But they weren’t home yet, and that was her concern.

  It wasn’t long before that concern was addressed. Over dinner that night with the major, Bradley’s sister, Louisa, brought up the subject in her gracious manner.

  “Bradley, I’m so glad you’re back.” Louisa’s clothes were very fine for a governess. Even though Ambrosia had bathed and donned something clean, she still felt underdressed. “After all you’ve been through, I imagine that Major Adams would consider sending someone else to help the Heralds finish their journey.”

  The look exchanged between Louisa and the major confirmed what Bradley had said about their relationship.

  “Yes, I’ve talked that over with Captain Herald and offered him another escort,” Major Adams said. “He has generously decided to allow Bradley to stay here rather than continue on with him and Miss Herald. As far as I’m concerned, Bradley has passed the test. This mission has been completed satisfactorily.”

  Ambrosia felt hope draining away. A summer romance? Was that all she was? Across the table, Bradley avoided looking at her. She raised her chin. Fine. She could do without him. He’d risked his life for her. He deserved a civil good-bye.

  Conversation continued, with the major asking a hundred questions about the camels and Louisa inquiring after lodging for the night. Ambrosia’s father had just promised to take them both on a camel ride when Bradley blurted out, “Excuse me, sir, but I think I’ll go to Texas.”

  Her father paused, not accustomed to being interrupted. Major Adams looked at Louisa and shook his head, as if unsurprised by his outburst. “Allow the captain to finish, Private Willis.”

  But Bradley didn’t wait. “I’ll go with him. I want to go with him. I want to see the mission completed.”

  Beneath the table, Ambrosia wadded her gown in her fist. “Is your mission that important to you?”

  The light from the silver candelabra reflected in Bradley’s eyes. His jaw was freshly shaven, his hair shiny and clean. “It is,” he said, “and I intend to see it completed.”

  “What if I catch the stagecoach and ride it home? Would you still be as determined to escort the camels?” she asked.

  Bradley frowned, and Major Adams cleared his throat. Ambrosia tried to smooth the wrinkle she was making in her skirt. It occurred to her that she might sound combative at this fine table where everyone was being so gracious.

  Realizing that something was wrong, Louisa intervened. “Captain Herald, does your daughter play chess?” she asked.

  “Ambrosia? No, not at all. Why—”

  “There’s a lovely chess set in the major’s office. Bradley, do be a dear and take Miss Herald to see it. I think she’ll be impressed.”

  Bradley stood. “With her father’s permission?”

  Captain Herald drummed his fingers against the white tablecloth. “I suppose she’ll come to no harm in the major’s office.”

  “If I can take care of her while facing the Gunther gang—”

  “Bradley,” his sister warned, “don’t push your luck.”

  Ambrosia waited for him to come and pull out her chair. After nearly a week of cooking on a campfire and sleeping on the ground, she wanted to feel like a lady, even if she was out of sorts. He led her to an office with French doors overlooking the parade grounds, but he didn’t bother showing her the chess set.

  Instead, he took her in his arms. Her gown crushed against his spotless blue uniform.

  “What’s this about you catching a stagecoach? I thought you were going to stay with your pa.”

  Amber shrugged “That depends. Are you going because you were forced on this mission or because you want to be with me?”

  “You heard the major. No one is forcing me to go. I’m doing it because that’s what I want.”

  “And after that?” She busied herself with twisting a brass button on his coat. Why was she pushing him so hard? She didn’t like how she was acting, but she was scared. More scared than she’d been with the outlaws. She was afraid that she’d misunderstood, that she’d grown to love someone who didn’t love her back.

  His breathing was slow and even, while hers felt rapid and strained. He clasped his hands behind her and let her lean back in his arms.

  “After I take you home, I’ll have a day or so before I head back to the fort. In that time, I want to meet your mother and spend some time with your father when he’s not being Captain Herald. If there’s any other family I need to impress, I’ll leave it up to you to introduce us.”

  His words soothed her. The fear was diminishing. “But then you’ll leave. I might not see you again.”

  “I’m commissioned to the army for three more years, but Garber is only a couple of days away. Every leave I get, every time I’m near the border, I’ll come calling. And perhaps you could come visit my sister on occasion.”

  “Then you don’t regret it?”

  “What? Our time together?” With a gentle tug on her chin, he raised her face to his. “Three years, Ambrosia. I’ve got a lot of growing up to do, but I’ll do it knowing that you’re waiting for me.”

  She stretched her arms up around his neck. She reckoned that she needed a few more years, too. “Just don’t outgrow me,” sh
e said.

  And he promised.

  Together they’d finish this journey to fulfill her father’s dream, and then would come the test. But sometimes courage meant sticking to your post, shoulder to shoulder with your partner, and sometimes courage was facing the battle alone. As long as they knew they were on the same team and committed to each other, they could make it despite the distance, the years, . . . and the camels.

  Tied and True by Melissa Jagears

  Contents

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  Epilogue

  Chapter

  1

  KANSAS CITY, MISSOURI

  SEPTEMBER 1908

  The pounding of hammers above them ceased.

  Marianne Lister put down her tea and smiled at the widow whose roof was being reshingled by men from their church. “Seems you’ll have peace and quiet now.”

  Mrs. Danby’s faded blue eyes blinked as if it were hours after nightfall. “I could hardly hear them, sweetie. But God bless you for coming.”

  “You’re welcome.” Not that she’d been much help; she’d simply kept the woman company.

  If only she could’ve done more than rearrange Mrs. Danby’s pantry and chitchat while they waited. The widow had even taken over making lunch. Marianne rubbed the back of her hand where oil had left a welt. Evidently there was an art to frying ham if one didn’t want to splatter oil everywhere. As heiress to a large fortune, she’d never need to cook for herself, but that didn’t lessen her feeling of failure.

  The front door opened, and Calvin Hochstetler poked in his honey-blond head. Her heart pitter-pattered like always whenever he came near.

  “We’ve got your roof finished, Mrs. Danby. And none too soon considering the dark clouds rolling in. Was there more you needed done, or shall I send the men home?”

  “Nothing I can think of.” She waved her age-spotted hand to encourage him across the threshold. “Why don’t you come in for more tea?”

  Marianne picked up the nearly empty teapot. At least making tea was something she was good at. Even if this would be the fifth pot Mrs. Danby plied on the men.

  “Thank you, but I think we’re good.” Calvin pressed a hand against his stomach and his eyes grew wide, likely at the thought of downing another cup. He managed to give Mrs. Danby a polite smile anyway, which only heightened his good looks.

  “If you don’t have anything more for us to do, the men would like to get home before the storm.” He looked over at Marianne and then at the clock. “Is your driver coming to pick you up?”

  She shook her head. “He won’t be coming for another hour. Would you mind walking me home?”

  He beamed a genuine smile this time, making her insides warmer than the tepid teapot in her hands. “Certainly, but we’ll have to leave quickly. Are you ready to go?”

  She was more than ready if it meant spending time with him. “Just let me tidy up.”

  He nodded and backed out the door.

  She put away the tea service, and when she returned to the parlor, Mrs. Danby had fallen asleep. Marianne arranged the quilt over the widow’s legs and let herself out.

  The other men had already left, and Calvin was throwing away the last of the broken shingles.

  So not only would she get to spend time with him, but they’d be alone? Her heart picked up and jitters took over. She looked at the sky. Hopefully the storm clouds weren’t in any hurry.

  Calvin threw the last shingle into a bucket, carried it to the curb, then came back to meet her at the stairs. “Did you have a good visit with Mrs. Danby?”

  “I did.” She tucked her arm around his, sighing a little at the tingles sweeping through her at his touch.

  “I’m glad you agreed to keep her company.” Calvin tipped his hat at someone across the road as they started east. “She said her daughter hasn’t been up to see her for years.”

  The poor woman, all alone with no one to help. And her daughter likely would’ve been better help today—she probably knew how to cook.

  Marianne sighed. Would she ever be able to do anything of value? How was it she’d come to be twenty-one and couldn’t do much more than make tea? Wonderful tea, yes, but still nothing more significant than tea. Of course, she could also maintain a smile without it looking fake and nod her head sympathetically when Mother’s society friends complained about their husbands’ antics or philandering. If only she’d been born Mrs. Danby’s daughter, she might be able to do something useful outside a parlor. “I’m glad you let me be a part of your widow and orphan ministry, even if I am rather useless.”

  “You aren’t useless.” He rubbed the top of her arm.

  “When it comes to actually helping, I’m afraid I am.” She stared at the tops of her polished leather shoes. She’d certainly felt so today.

  “You underestimate how much some of these widows need conversation. We can fix holes or replace windows to keep their houses warm, but you’re the one who warms their hearts.” He tucked her arm tighter against his and gave it a squeeze.

  Did he see something valuable in everyone? “Might I go with you next Saturday?”

  “I’d hoped so. Mrs. Phillips makes terrible tea.” He winked.

  “But what if I wanted to help tear down her porch?” Manual labor couldn’t be too hard. Even children did it.

  He raised his eyebrows at her. “What about talking with Mrs. Phillips?”

  “I’d chat with her afterward. I know I can’t help you build the porch, but today I could’ve picked up broken shingles. Surely I could pile up rotted wood.”

  “Sounds fine to me.” He waved at someone across the street. “You’ll save us time.”

  She smiled so big it could have lifted her off the ground if not for Calvin’s arm around hers. And here she’d thought nothing could lighten her step faster than his dimpled smile.

  If she’d told anyone in her social set she wanted to pick up rotted wood, they’d have laughed at her. “What project is after Mrs. Phillips’s?”

  “Not sure. Her porch will wipe out next month’s budget.”

  She was tempted to promise him extra funding, but she could imagine her father would gripe about how the group conveniently started going over budget once she volunteered. “What will you do for the rest of the month?”

  He shrugged and looked back over his shoulder at the threatening clouds. “The others will be happy to spend time with their families, and I’ve got projects at work to finalize. With David out of the office, I should have enough time to do so before he returns. Other than that, I’ll keep my ears open for anything we can do that doesn’t require money. What about you?”

  If she didn’t have anywhere to be, her parents would expect her to throw parties, pass cookies, and smile at eligible gentlemen . . . as long as she didn’t smile at any of them more than she did David. Calvin’s boss was the gentleman of choice when it came to a desired son-in-law.

  If only they knew she and David had already discussed everyone’s expectations and chosen not to deepen their relationship. David was probably the only man in her circle who’d not take offense at her begging off his courtship because she had feelings for his secretary. “I don’t know what Mother has on the calendar, but I wish I could find something more useful to do than visiting.”

  “What about that plan you had to help the homeless sell day-old breads?”

  He remembered that? That had been an idea Papa had proven silly with long columns of numbers and figures, showing her business plan was unsustainable. “Seems I have to think up something that can be a blessing but still pay its own bills. If I do inherit, hopefully I’ll have figured out how to help those in need without bankrupting myself by then.”

  “If you inherit?” He turned to frown at her, a deep wrinkle forming between his brows.

  “Yes, if . . .” David had warned her that a relationship with Cal
vin might cause her parents to disinherit her. Though she’d not meant to bring that up now . . . a lady didn’t ask a man to court, after all.

  “Are your parents in financial trouble? Considering the amount of business they do with the Kingsmans, I hadn’t gotten that impression.”

  “Oh no, no trouble like that. Just me—being trouble, that is.”

  “If you cause your parents any real trouble, I’ll eat my hat.” He flashed her the silly grin that always made her feel accepted, despite how different they were.

  And if they could be such easy friends, transforming their relationship into something deeper should be just as easy, right?

  Oh, what to say? A lady might not propose . . . but was there anything wrong with hinting? “Well, they’ve forever expected me to marry David, so there’s no doubt they’ll find it troublesome I’ve fallen for his secretary instead.”

  Calvin stopped midstride, his face suddenly blank.

  Her body grew cold as she reviewed the words she’d just said. Seemed she was just as bad at hinting as being useful. Perhaps her unchecked tongue was where the real trouble lay.

  His brows drew closer, and his gaze bore into hers. When his hand came up, her heart slammed against her chest and she closed her eyes. Would she receive her first kiss? Maybe bumbling out her feelings hadn’t been such a bad thing, after all.

  Instead, he twisted her nose.

  Her eyes flew open. “What was that for?”

  His expression was wide-eyed with panic. “I just . . . In my dreams, I’d never tweaked your nose, and I . . .” He rubbed a hand down his face. “This isn’t a dream,” he said, as if it were the most horrible thing in the world to find himself awake.

  She reached up and rubbed her nose. “No, not a dream. I certainly felt that.”

  “All right, then, I . . .” He nodded decisively. “I must have heard you wrong.”

  “So then I didn’t just say my parents would be upset about my being in love with you?”

  He shook his head, then walked off like a shot, both his hands raking through his hair and stopping at the nape of his neck.