The Scout by Lynna Banning

Author:Lynna Banning
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2003-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Besieged by well-wishers, John fought his way across the dining hall to confront Colonel Butterworth. “What the hell’s got into you, Harry?”

“My boy.” The colonel set his punch cup down on a nearby table. “Seeing how circumstances stand, I thought I’d do you a favor by moving things along.”

“Moving what things along? Goddammit, Colonel—”

“Now, John. Miss Nettie and I had a long walk this afternoon, during which she told me all about it.”

“All about what?” John clenched his hands at his back for fear he’d forget himself and thrash his commanding officer.

“About compromising her, John.” The colonel stepped toward him and lowered his voice. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m happy you’ve found someone.”

“I care nothing for Nettie Weldon,” John said through gritted teeth. “Nothing!”

“Doesn’t matter now, son. She’s in the family way, and—”

“Well, I didn’t get her there.”

Colonel Butterworth went on as if he hadn’t heard a word John uttered. “—and I expect an invitation to the wedding. There’s a preacher at Fort Laramie. You can get married there.”

“Like hell I will. Harry, you call this off. Call Nettie’s bluff.”

The colonel’s face hardened. “You’re going to marry that girl, John, and that’s an order. Unless,” he said, lowering his voice, “you want to end your career with a court-martial. Take it or leave it.”

“I can’t marry her, Colonel.”

“You can’t retire with a court martial on your record, either, John. I’ve always known you for a man of honor. Stubborn, maybe. Sometimes you march too much to your own drummer, but honorable, nevertheless. Now, you’re going to make it right with that girl and that’s that.”

“Colonel—”

“Don’t argue with me, John. This is the best thing I could have hoped for you. I’m just helping things along.”

The fiddle suddenly started up with a burst of raucous music, and men raced to claim partners.

“Harry, listen—”

“You are dismissed, Major.”

His mind reeling, John found himself heading across the floor, ignoring hands extended in congratulations, cooing women, even Nettie in her low-necked green dress, smiling as if she’d just swallowed a quart of cream. The need to be outside, away from this sham lengthened his stride.

Even after he had reached the parade ground perimeter and walked off his anger, he still couldn’t think straight. He wanted to go to Constance. Wanted to saddle up and ride straight on to Idaho without stopping. He wanted…

The faint sound of Billy’s fiddle floated to him on the night air, the melody so full of longing his heart closed in on itself.

And then he remembered Constance’s face looking up at him, her mouth composed, her eyes shiny with tears. With understanding.

He didn’t trust himself around Nettie at the moment. He’d like to shake that lying little bitch until her bones rattled. He didn’t trust himself around Constance, either. He wanted to touch her. Bury himself in her.

With a low, anguished groan, he headed for Billy’s camp and the rest of the whiskey.

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