Night Song

  An hour later, Cara seriously wondered if she’d chosen the right profession after all. The noise and commotion in the schoolroom could only be described as bedlam. The “Indians” dressed in their colorful paint and buckskins were in one corner practicing their war whoops, while the “buffalo soldiers” ran back and forth brandishing their homemade wooden sabers at any girl standing still long enough to be a target. As a result the girls were running and screaming. For what seemed to be the fifteenth time, Cara cautioned little Rilla Walker to stand still so she could repair the hem on her dress. If not for the three mothers who were volunteer helpers, the children would have been in even more of an uproar.

  After placing the last stitch in Rilla’s hem, Cara removed the pins from her mouth and yelled at two of her more rambunctious eight-year-olds. “Becca Franklin, if you jump from one more desktop, I’m telling your parents. Buffalo soldiers do not abuse property. Or point sabers at their sister’s eyes, Frankie Cooper.”

  Cara wished she’d chosen a nice, quiet Bible play for the children to perform tonight. “Okay, boys and girls, line up. We’re going over to the town hall now,” she called out wearily. The evening had just gotten under way, and she and the mothers were already exhausted.

  While the volunteers scooted the squirming, excited children into a passable line, Cara turned to her desk to gather up her things. She glanced up and went stock still at the sight of Chase Jefferson standing in the open doorway.

  “Evenin’, Miss Henson.”

  Every eye in the room focused on the two of them. A moment ago there had been enough noise to mask cannon fire, but now it was silent enough to hear a pin drop on cotton.

  Into the breach sounded Rilla Walker’s awe-filled whisper. “A real buffalo soldier!”

  This would be the children’s first close look at one of their heroes.

  “Come in, Sergeant Jefferson,” Cara invited.

  It seemed impossible to deny the effect he had upon her senses. She shook herself, desperately trying to keep in the forefront of her mind that the man would be leaving soon. She turned back to her staring students. “Children, I would like you to meet Sergeant Jefferson of the Tenth Cavalry.”

  A buzz of excitement went through the children, and she had to clap her hands to restore order. When they quieted, she added, “Now, we have no time for questions this evening, but if you’re very well-behaved at tonight’s performance, and I know you will be, perhaps we can convince Sergeant Jefferson to come over to school and pay us a special visit before he and his men leave next week.”

  Cara turned to him. His eyes were riveted on her with such intensity that she seriously doubted he’d heard a word.

  She was right.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. What did you say?”

  His eyes were working her over unmercifully. Cara heard one mother discreetly clear her throat. “I asked if you’d come by and visit with the children before you leave town.” She dearly wished he’d lower the heat of his gaze. It made her want to undo the top buttons of her blouse and fan herself.

  “My pleasure,” he replied.

  Cara turned back to the children, pretending not to see the smiles and raised eyebrows on the faces of the mothers. “Class, I would like you to show Sergeant Jefferson how quietly you can go to the door and line up outside.”

  To her delight they did it quickly and, more amazingly, quietly.

  Chase nodded a polite goodbye to the mothers as they hurried out to join the children, then turned his attention to Cara. She’d donned a white blouse and yet another dark skirt. He knew teachers, especially women teachers, weren’t paid well, but to him it was a crime that she wasn’t paid enough to afford clothing that befitted a woman of such grace and beauty. She should be draped in the finest fabrics in the latest styles, he thought. He was certain the blouse she wore was one of her best, though. It appeared to be of finer quality than those she’d worn previously and had more lace at the throat and cuffs. The contrast of the white material against the honey-brown skin of her graceful neck made him want urgently to pull her into his arms. He tamped down his desire, cleared his throat, and said, “You look very nice, schoolmarm.”

  “Are you going to behave tonight, Sergeant?”

  “I will behave any way you want me to.” His words communicated one thing, his expression quite another.

  She rolled her eyes and handed him a small but heavy crate. “Carry this, please.”

  Chase looked at the brightly colored jumble of items inside. “What is all this?”

  “Scenery, Sergeant. And if we don’t hurry, the children may start without us.”

  The short skit opened with a group of buffalo soldiers who happened upon a party of Indians. The groups, wary of each other at first, talked instead of fighting and parted friends at the end. The performance inspired thunderous applause. Chase and his men cheered and whistled. Cara came to the front of the hall for her bows, smiling a tad shyly at the appreciation.

  Afterward, Chase watched Cara as she moved about to thank parents for their support and congratulate her young thespians. When she seemed to be finished with those duties, he eased toward her through the crowd. “Excellent performance, Miss Henson.”

  Cara turned. “Did you like it?”

  “I did. And so did my men. Talking instead of fighting saves lives. Maybe we should send the children to Washington.”

  “Not a bad idea,” she said, smiling.

  The assemblage broke up not long after punch and cake were served. The children, some walking on sleep-weakened legs, and others already asleep and carried by a parent, were being taken over to Sophie’s. She’d generously offered the beds in her big attic to the children of folks who lived outside the town. Her staff would keep an eye on them while those parents invited by Virginia Sutton went on to the dinner.

  With Chase handling the reins, the buckboard rattled down the road toward the Sutton spread. Sophie took up most of the seat, Cara, squeezed in between the two larger people, could not avoid having her thigh pressed hard against Chase’s. His muscles felt rocklike. She told herself the pressure didn’t bother her, but her body called the lie. Every time the wheels hit a rut, which was often, the upward motion threw her solidly against him, and the shocking result of her breast boldly meeting the side of his well-developed upper arm shortened her breath.

  “Chase, for heaven’s sake, rein more to the right, you’re about to kill me,” Sophie ordered after a particularly violent jolt.

  “Sorry, ladies,” he offered apologetically.

  He expertly reined the team more in the direction Sophie requested, but his movements only increased his closeness to Cara. His hard arm slid against her nipple every time he adjusted the leads. Each pass was shattering and intimate. Cara didn’t know if it was accidental or not, but she prayed they reached Virginia’s before she swooned.

  “Comfortable, ma’am?” he asked innocently, turning in her direction.

  She glared at him. “Quite comfortable, Sergeant. Thank you.”

  Chase, an experienced member of his gender, knew her detached manner was a pose. His accidental brushing against her breast had been just that: accidental. But, had Sophie not voiced a complaint, he would have been content to drive the rutted side of the road just so he could hear the soft, shaky breaths Cara drew each time he inadvertently stroked her.

  Too soon, the lights of the Sutton house came into view. Moments later, Chase extended a hand to help Sophie alight. While she moved off toward the house, he turned his attention to Cara. He placed his large, strong hands upon her waist and effortlessly lifted her clear of the buckboard. Her skirt billowed a second before settling back into place, and then he brought her down slowly, so slowly the heat of their bodies seemed to mingle.

  When the earth became solid beneath Cara’s feet, she scarcely noticed. The raised voices of the people celebrating inside faded away. She stood there, her heart doing flip-flops, her throat clogged. Only the raw power emanating from him and the direct
ness of his gaze touched her. She felt torn between wanting to flee from the wild magic she sensed in him and wanting to stroke the dark planes of his face. Why hadn’t she ever experienced this sweet fear with any other man? The feelings and desires he’d awakened were as wondrous as they were disturbing.

  Sophie’s call from the porch broke the spell, and Cara backed away, hoping the darkness of the night would mask her trembling unease.

  Chase smiled, and reluctantly let her go. His gaze followed her as she moved quickly to the house and then inside. Patience, he reminded himself. Patience.

  Chapter 4

  As usual, Virginia Sutton was the most elegantly dressed woman in the room. Her son, Miles, born to her at an early age, was not yet twenty and she was still a stunning woman at thirty-five. Her gown, low-cut and created out of gold borcade with satin trim, displayed her curvaceous figure to best advantage. Any other woman would have have looked overdressed in this room full of women clad in mostly homespun and gingham, but not Virginia. The jewelry and fancy gown declared her position and prestige in the town she all but owned, and she wore her expensive finery with dash and without guilt.

  The atmosphere was more subdued than at Sophie’s gathering, undoubtedly because no one wanted to break any of the imported treasures or spill anything on the fine Spanish rugs in Virginia’s magnificent home. Everyone was on his best behavior.

  Still, people seemed to be having a good time, Cara saw as she looked around. The food was plentiful, the music lively, and Virginia’s fabled liquor flowed freely.

  Cara tensed as she spotted Virginia making her way through the crowd in her direction. Although Virginia stopped here and there to chat and smile with the most distinguished of her guests, her gaze was riveted on Chase. Cara turned away, hoping the woman would look for prey elsewhere, but knew there was little chance. There wasn’t a man in the room who could match Chase. Every female had turned his way when he’d entered. The snug-fitting uniform showed the power in his tall, trim body and the mustache perched so spicily above the glorious-looking mouth made him all the more dazzling. Virginia would want him, and Virginia always got what she wanted.

  “Cara,” Sophie said, “you take care of Chase for a few minutes. I need to speak to Sybil over there. I’ll find you later.”

  Sophie moved away quickly.

  Take care of Chase, Cara thought. She looked up at him and found him smiling down at her.

  “Well?” he said. “You heard what the lady said.”

  But before Cara could respond, the voice of the Black Widow sounded at her back. “Ah, Miss Henson, and who is this handsome man?”

  Cara turned to Virginia and made the introductions.

  “Pleasure, ma’ am,” she heard Chase say.

  “No, Sergeant Jefferson, the pleasure’s all mine . . . You know, I was a bit skeptical about having this soirée. You and your men are very famous but I had visions of trampled rugs and broken crystal. I’m glad to see I was wrong. Your men are quite well-mannered and, in fact a few are most handsome. Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Henson?”

  “Yes, the men are well-mannered, very clean.”

  Virginia laughed softly. “Ah, Miss Henson, you would concentrate on their manners. Sergeant, our Miss Henson is a most competent educator, but I’m certain she wouldn’t know what to do with a handsome man if he fell facefirst into her . . . lap.”

  Cara’s eyes blazed, but she held her tongue.

  “Come dance with me, Sergeant,” Virginia invited.

  Chase heard the velvet-sheathed order, but since he took orders only from the United States Army, he said, “I’d like that, but I promised the first dance to Miss Henson.”

  Cara could have kissed him. But she forced herself to recall that after he was gone, Virginia would still be there. She decided it was best to be gracious. “I don’t mind, Sergeant. Besides, I’m not much of a dancer. You go ahead. We can dance later or another time.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “I’m going to get some punch.”

  “Excellent idea, Miss Henson,” Virginia said.

  “Well, don’t go far, Miss Henson,” Chase cautioned in a voice that made her heart start doing those crazy flip-flops again. “Wouldn’t want to lose you in this crowd.”

  “I won’t get lost,” Cara replied and went off to find the punch table.

  From across the room, Cara watched Chase and Virginia dance to the slow sweet strains of a Spanish guitar. Virginia’s smile was her dazzling best. It was easy for Cara to see why so many people considered the Black Widow one of the loveliest women in all of Graham County. Few women possessed such flawless golden skin, such big sherry-colored eyes as she or such hair the color of dark wine. No wonder that few men could resist her beauty, Cara thought. As much as she disliked Virginia, she realized that the older woman knew much more about handling a man like Chase than she ever would.

  Not wishing to watch them together for another moment, Cara stepped back into the crowd, then made her way to the back door. Sophie’s gently restraining hand suddenly stopped her.

  “Have you seen Chase, dear?”

  “He’s dancing with Virginia.”

  “Is that why you’re running off?”

  “I’m not running. I—I need some fresh air.”

  “Ah, I see,” Sophie said, then added, “don’t let that woman run you out of here.”

  “This has nothing to do with Virginia. It’s warm in here is all.”

  They both knew it was a lie, but Sophie let it go.

  Near the back door, Cara passed Miles Sutton, leaning against a wall with a drink in his hand. He leered and toasted her with the glass. She ignored him.

  Once outside, pulling in deep lungfuls of the cool night air, Cara felt much better. From her spot on the long wide porch, she saw others who’d come out to escape the crush inside. Under the lights of the moon and of lanterns stuck on poles, several men were pitching horseshoes, laughing, talking, and passing jugs.

  “Well, hello, Miss Cara.”

  She turned to see the sheriff stepping up onto the porch and nodded at him. “Sheriff.”

  “What are you doing out here all alone?” he asked with a smile. “Young, pretty woman like yourself should be in the middle of all that dancing in there.”

  The music had changed. Lively strains of fiddle music were drifting out to them now. When Cara did not reply, his voice became tinged with concern. “You feeling poorly, Miss Cara?”

  “I’m fine, Sheriff Polk. Just came out to get some air.”

  There was a shared silence, then he said, “I went ahead and talked to Jefferson. Hope that was all right?”

  “I appreciate your concern, Sheriff. But I do believe Virginia is going to fix my troubles with the sergeant.”

  “Virginia?”

  “Yep. Take a look inside.”

  He turned to the window behind them, and Cara knew that even with all the people in the way, the laughing widow and the handsome soldier wouldn’t be hard to spot.

  “Oh,” the sheriff uttered in understanding.

  “Yes, oh,” Cara echoed, looking out into the night. “If you had a daughter, Sheriff, what would you tell her about a man like Chase Jefferson?”

  “Well, I’d tell her that he’s a fine man, but probably not for her. He’s a soldier, and many of them don’t like putting down roots. But I’d also tell her to look in her heart. It is, after all, her life.”

  For a moment she mused on his words, then said, “That’s sound advice, Sheriff.”

  The sheriff smiled wryly and ambled off, leaving Cara alone with the night and her thoughts.

  Chase excused himself from Virginia’s side as quickly as politeness allowed. She was indeed a very beautiful woman and he hadn’t missed her slyly couched hints about her availability. In the days before meeting Cara, more than likely he would have taken Virginia up on her offer, but the whole time he was dancing he’d had no other woman on his mind than the schoolteacher.

  H
e’d witnessed her exit and the tightness in her small face when he’d led Virginia out onto the dance floor. Where had she gone? he wondered.

  * * *

  Cara didn’t even have to turn to know he stood behind her. She could feel his presence like the stroke of the night breeze against her cheeks. “Is Sophie ready to leave? She said she didn’t plan to stay long.”

  “Almost.”

  “So, what do you think of the Widow Sutton?” Cara asked softly.

  “I expected her to be older.”

  After a long silence Cara said, “She’s very beautiful, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, she is, but then so are you.”

  Cara turned to him then. “Even if it isn’t true, it’s a nice thing to say.”

  “You doubt my veracity?”

  “Veracity? That’s a pretty big word for a lowly soldier who tramples carpets and breaks crystal; wouldn’t you say, Sergeant?”

  He laughed. “Is she always so predatory?”

  “With me, yes, and I have no notion why. After all, I wouldn’t know what to do with a man if he fell facefirst into my lap.”

  “Ah, schoolmarm, don’t tempt me . . . Never mind,” he said softly. “So how was my behavior?”

  “Stellar, Sergeant. I haven’t wanted to succumb to your talents once.”

  “Then dance with me.”

  His offer made her sense leap. “Out here?”

  “Here and now. You promised me a dance, remember?”

  She took a hasty look around to see who might be near. Recklessness overcame her again. “I’d like that very much.”

  She placed her small, trembling hand in his large, sure one. His other lightly graced her waist. He began to glide her around the dark porch. The music flowed gently from inside. Cara could not tear her eyes away from his shadowed gaze. The hand on her waist burned through the fabric. Her feet were keeping excellent pace with his polished steps, and she felt as if they were dancing on air. He moved her onto the darkest part of the porch, and after a few more charged moments, their steps slowed, then stopped, and their gazes locked. He released the hand holding hers and reached up to stroke her cheek. Her eyes closed. He tenderly tilted her chin and lowered his mouth to cover hers, brushing her lips until they opened for the temptations offered by his tongue, and he licked their sensitive corners.