Free Summer of Promise by Amanda Cabot Page B

Ethan’s company was pleasant and that she enjoyed his ready sense of humor as well as his obvious concern for his men, but that didn’t mean Abigail cared about him romantically. She did not. It was Woodrow she loved, not a man who’d never have a permanent home, not a man who wore a gun and was trained to kill.
    “I was thankful Lieutenant Bowles was there,” Abigail told her sister’s guests. “I don’t know what would have happened to the other passengers and me otherwise.” When she closed her eyes, she could still picture the German-speaking deserter’s malevolence.
    “Who else was on the coach?” Mrs. Alcott asked.
    As Abigail named the other passengers, Mrs. Montgomery raised an eyebrow. Tall and what Mama would call statuesque, though Abigail would have applied the adjective “plump,” Mrs. Montgomery appeared to believe that her carrot-red hair and green eyes were best complemented by flamboyant clothing. That was the only reason Abigail could imagine that she had chosen a peacock blue dress. In contrast, her companion’s demure cream-colored muslin appeared almost mousy. “Mrs. Hiram Dunn?” Mrs. Montgomery asked.
    “I don’t believe she mentioned her husband’s name. All I know is that they owned a ranch north of here and that she’s been widowed for a few years.”
    “Then that’s not Mrs. Hiram Dunn. He was a miner who struck it rich at Deadwood and settled in Cheyenne. It’s odd, though.” Furrows appeared between Mrs. Montgomery’s brows. “I thought I knew all the ranchers in this part of the territory. You see, my husband is considering settling here once his commitment is over, so he’s taken it on himself to learn who’s who among the ranchers. I don’t recall any Dunns, though.”
    Mrs. Alcott intervened. “It’s of no importance, Adele. What matters is that Abigail is here, and we need to welcome her to Fort Laramie properly. I think we should hold a dance in her honor. That will give all the men a chance to meet her.”
    Where was Charlotte when she needed her? Abigail smiled as sweetly as she could, addressing her reply to both women, though she sensed that Mrs. Montgomery was the dominant one. “It’s very kind of you to offer, but it would be unfair to give anyone the impression that I’m . . .” She paused, once again searching for the right word. At last she settled on available . “When I return to Vermont, I expect to be betrothed to one of my colleagues.”
    Mrs. Montgomery gave a small harrumph. “My dear, it’s only a dance.” As Charlotte entered the parlor carrying the tea tray, Mrs. Montgomery smiled. “Isn’t that right, Charlotte?”
    Charlotte nodded. “The enlisted men will have their baseball games, and we’ll have a dance. It’s perfect.” Lifting the teapot, Charlotte filled a cup and handed it to Mrs. Montgomery. “Now, ladies, what do you think would be the best date?”

5
     
    A bigail smiled. What else could she do, when Puddles sat at her sister’s feet, gnawing on a bone and occasionally giving her adoring looks, looks that Charlotte returned? In the three days since the puppy had become part of the family, Charlotte had regained much of her sparkle. She laughed at Puddles’s antics, did not complain when the puppy chewed one of her favorite slippers, and had somehow placated Mrs. Channing when Puddles refused to remain in the wooden crate that was supposed to be his bed. Charlotte had even managed to eat a normal breakfast this morning, and though it would take weeks for the hollows in her cheeks to disappear, at least today her face had a rosy hue.
    As if she sensed her sister’s scrutiny, Charlotte looked up. As soon as they’d finished breakfast, she and Abigail had repaired to the parlor, planning to finish their sewing before the day’s heat made having extra yards of fabric draped over one’s lap unpleasant. “Do you think Elizabeth would like living here?”
    Abigail blinked, surprised by the question. She had