Chapter 1
Colonel Harrison read the letter a second time, then leaned back in his chair and smiled. The answer to a prayer, he thought. That was the only way to describe the letter: the answer to a prayer.
Just to make sure it did indeed say what he thought it did, he looked at the letter again. General Yovington had issued orders from Washington, D.C., that Lieutenant L. K. Surrey was to leave the post of Company J, Second Dragoons, for a special assignment. But since Lieutenant Surrey had died just last week, Colonel Harrison would have to choose someone to take the assignment in his place.
Colonel Harrison’s smile grew broader. He was choosing Captain C. H. Montgomery to take Lieutenant Surrey’s place. The lieutenant, now replaced by Captain Montgomery, was “requested” to escort a foreign opera singer into the gold fields of the Colorado Territory. He was to remain with her and her small band of musicians and servants as long as the lady needed him. He was to protect her from any dangers she would possibly encounter on her journey and to do what he could to make her travels more comfortable.
Colonel Harrison put the letter down, handling it as though it were a precious relic, and smiled so broadly his face nearly cracked. Lady’s maid, he thought. The high and mighty Captain Montgomery was being ordered to be nothing more than a lady’s maid. But, more important, Captain Montgomery was being ordered away from Fort Breck.
Colonel Harrison took a few deep, cleansing breaths and thought about having his own fort to command, and about not having to deal with the perfection, the cool knowledge of Captain Montgomery. No longer would the men look to their captain for confirmation of every order, for permission to do what their colonel asked of them.
Colonel Harrison thought back to when he first came to Fort Breck a year ago. His predecessor, Colonel Collins, had been a drunken, lazy old fool. Collins’s only concern had been surviving until he could retire, get out of Indian country and go back to Virginia, where people lived in a civilized manner. He was content to turn over all responsibility to his second-in-command, Captain Montgomery. And why not? Montgomery’s record had to be seen to be believed. He’d been in the army since he was eighteen, and in the ensuing eight years he’d worked himself up through the ranks. He’d started as a private, and, after extraordinary heroism on the field of battle, he’d been made an officer. He’d gone from second lieutenant to captain in a mere three years, and at the rate he was going he’d outrank Colonel Harrison in another few years.
Not that the man didn’t deserve everything he’d ever earned in the army. No, as far as Colonel Harrison could tell, Captain Montgomery was perfect. He was cool under fire, never losing his head. He was generous, fair, and understanding with the enlisted men, and as a result they pretty much thought he ran the fort. The officers went to him with their problems; the officers’ ladies fawned over him and asked his advice about social events. Captain Montgomery didn’t drink, didn’t patronize the whores outside the fort; he’d never lost his temper as far as anyone knew, and he could do anything. He could ride like a demon and, while at a full gallop, shoot the eye out of a turkey from a hundred yards away. He knew Indian sign language and a smattering of several Indian languages. Hell, even the Indians liked him, said he was a man they could respect and trust. No doubt Captain Montgomery would die before he broke his word.
Everyone in the world seemed to like, honor, respect, even revere Captain Montgomery. Everyone, that is, except Colonel Harrison. Colonel Harrison loathed the man. Not just disliked him, not just hated him, but loathed him. Everything the captain could do that the colonel couldn’t made the colonel despise him more. The enlisted men saw within a week after the colonel’s arrival that Harrison didn’t know anything about the West, and the truth was, this was the first time in his life the colonel had been west of the Mississippi. Captain Montgomery hadn’t volunteered to help the colonel learn the ropes; no, he was much too polite for that, but, in the end the colonel had had to ask him some questions. The captain had always known the answer, always known the best w
ay to settle any dispute.
It was after Colonel Harrison had been at Fort Breck for five months that he began to hate the man who had all the answers. Of course, having a sixteen-year-old daughter who practically swooned at the sight of the man, didn’t help matters.
Colonel Harrison’s resentment had come to a head one hot morning the previous summer when, in a vile mood, the colonel had ordered a man who had done no more than oversleep reveille to be punished with twenty lashes. He was sick unto death of the drunkenness of his men and meant to make an example of the private. He ignored the looks of hatred from the other men, but his stomach began to hurt. He wasn’t a bad man; he just wanted to enforce discipline at his post.
When Captain Montgomery stepped forward to protest the punishment, Colonel Harrison saw red. He informed the captain that he was in charge of the fort and unless the captain meant to take the man’s punishment, he was to stay out of this. It wasn’t until Montgomery began removing his jacket that the colonel realized what he meant to do.
It was the worst morning of the colonel’s life, and he dearly wished he could go back to bed and start the day over. Captain Montgomery—the fearless, perfect Captain Montgomery—took all twenty of the man’s lashes. For a while the colonel thought he was going to have a mutiny on his hands when all the enlisted men refused to wield the whip. In the end a second lieutenant applied the whip to Montgomery’s broad back, and when he was finished he threw the whip into the dirt and turned on the colonel, his eyes blazing with hatred. “Anything else…sir?” he’d asked, sneering the last word.
For two weeks hardly anyone on the post spoke to the colonel—including his own wife and daughter. As for the captain, he was back on duty the next morning without so much as a grimace of pain for a back that must have been killing him. That he wouldn’t even commit himself to the infirmary for a few days was the last straw. From that day on, Colonel Harrison didn’t even bother trying to conceal his loathing for the captain. Of course the captain never once betrayed what he felt for the colonel; no, perfect human beings like Montgomery don’t give away what they feel. He just continued to be the perfect officer: a friend to the men, a charming escort to the ladies. A man trusted by all. A man who, as far as Colonel Harrison could tell, had no feelings. A man who never woke up on the wrong side of the bed. A man who never tripped on his horse’s stirrup or missed whatever he was aiming to shoot. A man who would probably smile in the face of death.
But now, Colonel Harrison thought, now he was going to get rid of this perfect man. Now General Yovington had requested an escort for some opera singer through gold country, and he was going to send the illustrious Captain Montgomery. “I hope she’s fat,” the colonel said aloud. “I hope she’s real fat.”
“Sir?” his corporal asked from his desk on the other side of the room.
“Nothing,” the colonel barked. “Send Captain Montgomery to me, then leave us.” The colonel ignored the look the corporal gave him.
Promptly, as always, Captain Montgomery appeared and the colonel tried to keep from frowning. There wasn’t a speck of dust on the captain’s dark blue uniform, which he suspected had been privately tailored to fit the captain’s six-foot-three-inch frame.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” Captain Montgomery asked, standing at attention.
Colonel Harrison wondered if the man could slump. “I have orders for you from General Yovington. Ever hear of him?”