Into the Wilderness. Laura Abbot

      “Mighty protective, aren’t you?” the corporal mumbled.

      “What was that?”

      “Nothin’.” Then he added, “Sir,” as if that would vindicate him.

      “Change the subject, then,” Caleb said before striding out into the night, fists clenched at his side. This wasn’t the first man Caleb had heard talking about Lily, but most were respectful. Adams was a sneak, and Caleb hoped he was all talk, but based on his history with the corporal, he wasn’t so sure.

      Walking back to his quarters, he wondered if he would have reacted so strongly had it been just any woman under discussion. He hoped so. But the mere suggestion of such a creature touching Lily Kellogg made his blood boil.

      * * *

      The much-anticipated spring band concert was a break from the monotony of life at the fort. This particular evening featured two fiddlers, a banjo player and a wizened harmonica player. Benches had been set up in the commissary, and the officers’ wives and daughters had prepared cookies and tea for a social following the musicale.

      Major and Mrs. Hurlburt sat in the front row. Effie gestured to Ezra to bring Rose and Lily and join them. There was a stir of anticipation as the musicians took their places. The band performed old folk tunes as well as more recent camp songs. Early on, some of the enlisted men began clapping in time to the beat, and for an hour, all thoughts of danger and homesickness were suspended.

      Lily was aware of the bachelor officers sitting in the row behind her, their buttons brightly polished, their gloved hands resting on their knees. Since the arrival of Aunt Lavinia’s letter a couple of weeks ago, Lily had been pondering her future. Was it unrealistic to consider another world—one of sophistication, intelligent discourse and high fashion? Rose had urged her to encourage Captain Montgomery, yet it would be hypocritical to lead him on. Attractive as he was, her favorable impressions of the man were surely skewed by the limited world of Fort Larned.

      At the conclusion of the concert, the musicians bowed to enthusiastic applause and then asked the audience to join them in singing “Aura Lee.” Behind her, Lily heard a rich baritone voice and discovered when she stood to leave that the singer who had pierced her heart was Captain Montgomery.

      Effie shoved her way between Rose and Lily and grabbed the captain by the arm. “Rose and I are helping serve the tea, but perhaps you could get some refreshments for this young lady.” She nodded at Lily.

      “My pleasure,” the captain said, following the major’s wife to the food table to comply with her request. Before Rose moved off to join Effie, she poked Lily in the ribs and whispered, “It won’t hurt you to flirt a bit.” When Lily glared at her, Rose affected wide-eyed innocence and added, “Consider it a rehearsal for your assault on St. Louis beaux.”

      Juggling two cups and a plate of cookies, Captain Montgomery returned to Lily. Most of the crowd had gone outside to eat, but he set the refreshments on a bench. “Shall we stay here?”

      She looked around, flustered to see how few concert-goers remained. “This is fine,” she said, sinking onto the bench.

      He handed her a cup, then made a toasting gesture with his own. “To you,” he said quietly.

      “Whatever for?”

      He smiled. “For gracing this place with beauty and gentleness. Most of us have lived with men for far too long. You are a breath of fresh air.”

      The compliment both flattered and disturbed her. “Sir, I think you give me too much credit. I would suggest it is easy to say such things when, by your own admission, you have been long deprived of feminine companionship.”

      “Do you think me so devoid of discernment that I am drawn to just any woman?”

      Drawn? He was drawn? How to answer such a question? “Forgive me, Captain. Of course, you must know your own mind.”

      “As I believe you must know yours. From what the men tell me, you are a fair, but demanding taskmistress—is there such a word?—among your patients.”

      “A hospital is not the place for indecisiveness or the encouragement of malingerers.”

      “Although one might not blame them for preferring your company to that of a drill sergeant.”

      “I assure you there are times in that environment when I bear a closer resemblance to a drill sergeant than a docile maid.”

      “From what I’ve seen of you, docile isn’t a word that comes readily to mind.”

      She couldn’t help herself. She chuckled. “What word does come to mind?”

      He leaned back as if to study her. “Perhaps curious. Or maybe determined.”

      “And what led you to such conclusions?”

      “Your interest in medicine, your passion for that which interests you, whether it is nursing or literature. I suspect there is more going on in that head of yours than meets the eye.”

      “You, sir, are a keen observer. I shall have to watch my p’s and q’s.”

      He set down his cup. “Would it be presumptuous to ask you to call me by my Christian name?”

      Lily was flustered. This conversation was moving beyond her powers to control it. “You have me at a disadvantage, Captain. Are we to become friends, then?”

      “That is my intent, especially as we are both book lovers.”

      “Then, as friends—” she leaned forward by way of emphasis “—in informal situations, I will call you Caleb.”

      “Good.” He hesitated as if hearing his name echo. “Would you object to saying it again?”

      She looked at him quizzically, then softly repeated, “Caleb.”

      “Thank you. It has been many months since I have heard my name uttered by a lovely woman. And, then, only by my sister, Sophie.”

      Unaccountably, Lily felt her eyes moisten. She had never considered how a soldier might miss simple feminine interactions or long for a soft, endearing voice. Casting about for a safer topic, she said, “Tell me about your sister.”

      He stood. “Perhaps we could take a turn around the parade ground while I relate some Sophie stories.” He held out his hand to assist her to rise.

      Tucking her arm through his, she was startled by a sensation very like happiness. Surely, she told herself, it was the beauty of the spring night rather than her companion that provoked such an emotion.

      On their walk, she discovered that he was a gifted raconteur. His mother had died giving birth to Sophie, and he obviously doted on his younger sister, a tomboy of the first magnitude. His tales of her cutting off her long hair when she was ten in order to look more like a boy and wading into the river to noodle for catfish were both humorous and poignant. He painted a vivid picture of his sister’s flyaway curly red hair and ended by saying, “Sophie possesses a mind of her own, but she has a generous heart.”

      “I think I’d like her,” Lily said, full of admiration for the independent young woman who dared to live beyond the conventional.

      Caleb faced her. “She would like you.” He clasped her hand between his own. “I like you.”

      “Captain—”

      “Caleb, please.”

      “Caleb, I don’t know what to say.”

      He snugged her hand beneath his arm and started walking slowly toward her home. “You don’t need to say anything.”

      She decided silence was the best course lest she offer any more encouragement than, inadvertently, she may have already given. As they walked, an awkwardness seemed to develop where earlier there had been camaraderie. She could ask him about the mother he had lost, but they were nearing the hospital. Perhaps another