In His Eyes(90)

Westley’s jaw twitched.

“Please? For me?”

He inhaled slowly. “For you. Though I make no other promise.”

She slipped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. She knew she shouldn’t do such things, but she needed to hold him this once before he took his leave. His arms tightened around her and he kissed the top of her head.

Then he stiffened and pulled away. “I must go.”

“Please, be safe.”

He pushed his kepi on his head and opened the door. “I will endeavor to do my best. Try not to get yourself into any trouble.”

Ella wrinkled her nose. “What trouble could I possibly get into?”

He chuckled, though there was little humor in it. “I will send word when I reach Kansas.”

She followed him out onto the porch, the cheery sunshine and twittering birds in stark contrast with the shadows in her heart. He swung up in the saddle, then turned the horse and galloped down the drive.

And in a matter of moments, he disappeared from her life just as quickly as he had first dropped into it.



St. Joseph, Missouri

Westley ran his sleeve over his forehead, his blue uniform already damp with sweat, and the day had not even reached noon. He smiled to himself as he tapped his kepi against his leg to free it from some of the dust before placing it back on his head. Good thing Ella couldn’t smell him now. After miles of rail and horse travel and nearly a week without a chance to bathe, his uniform had taken on a rather unpleasant smell. She would surely wrinkle her nose in that adorable way she had and….

He clenched his jaw. Here he was thinking about her again. He shouldered his haversack and stepped into the booming town at the westernmost point of the rail line. He would stay here for a few days until he met up with the company heading out to Fort Aubrey, Kansas.

Westley maneuvered his way into the busy flow of people, horses, and wagons clamoring in the streets. The army was sending him to an outpost to protect western travelers from Indian attack. From what he had been told, he could look forward to a small wooden fortification and a collection of tents positioned around protecting a bit of water and marking the line for the Santa Fe Trail.

And that’s what he had given up Ella for? A post in the wilderness to fend Indians off of wagon trains? He was a fool. One thing that his time alone had done for him was give him time to think. And read. And oddly enough, pray.

It was the thinking part he had tried his best to avoid. Thinking had only caused a chafing that he could not get rid of, no matter how he tried to distract his thoughts. Ever they returned to Ella. This feeling he had, this inability to put her from his mind, both scared and thrilled him.

He stepped around a wagon loaded with supplies and up onto a wooden walkway. This inability to control one’s own thoughts must be what caused men to take leave of their senses and act a fool for a woman. This deep devotion he felt for her could not be erased by her absence. If anything, the last days had taught him that separation from her only made it worse.

And that being the case, he had only one choice. He’d promised himself he would decide once he arrived at this port to the western world, but truth be told he’d decided days ago. He would send a telegram back to Colonel Larson in Greenville and ask that the man send Ella a message.

Dust drifted in the air and settled on him, the sounds of braying mules, shouting men, and rumbling wagons creating a clamor of noise and a disjointed atmosphere of hope, fervor, and competition. He had to duck beneath two men carrying some kind of beam and leap back out of the way before an elderly man with a handcart ran him over.

Westley rolled his eyes and straightened his jacket. When this assignment ended, he would muster out and return to Belmont, where he would seek to be her husband in truth. It would take time to win her, but it was a battle he was willing to fight. He would not only have to earn her trust, but her forgiveness as well for the heartless way he had left her. But perhaps, during his western duty, if he penned his thoughts and sent them to her, then in time she might come to forgive him, and when he returned, they could start over.

Westley weaved between countless people gearing up for a harrowing western bound wagon train and wondered how many of these hopeful faces would survive the journey. The war had only increased the western movement as desperate Southerners tried to start their lives anew in a wild and untamed wilderness. He’d heard enough tales as he made his way to St. Joseph to know that many would find their deaths long before they reached their new homelands, and then those who made it would face relentless hardships.

Westley checked in with his contact officer, and was told to report back in four days to join up with a company K heading to Kansas. He hadn’t listened to many of the specifics. None of it really mattered. He would serve his six months, and then he would return to Ella.

After securing a room at one of the many bustling inns that seemed more like saloons, Westley searched out a telegraph office, finding one just two streets over. He stepped inside and waited his turn in line, and after a few moments, the man at the window waved him up.

“What city, sir?”

Westley pushed a few coins across the counter. “Greenville, Mississippi. Addressed to Colonel Larson from Major Remington.”

The man dipped his pen in a well of ink and scribbled on a notepad. “Very good. Message?”

“Please send word to my wife. Upon completion of current assignment, I will muster out and return home.”