Free Dust Devil by Parris Afton Bonds

young woman was saying.
    In a way, Rosemary thought, Grant was much like Stephen. An opportunist. Already Grant seemed to have inveigled his way into the Santa Fe Ring, or the Casa , as Rita discreetly called it. She had heard that Grant had arrested the cowboy who had killed the Mexican probate judge . . . but somehow the cowboy had conveniently escaped from the fort’s jail some months later. Now Grant had the appointment as captain at Fort Sumner, which was under construction on the southern edge of Cambria territory.
    Grant caught her gaze on him, and his lips formed a smile that excluded everyone but her. However, his words were for the guests in general. "There will be no need to worry about confiscation of your property,” he promised in a firm voice. "You have my word that not one Rebel foot shall cross into our Territory.”
    "Bravo!” Rita said, and her eyes flashed flirtatiously across the rim of her wineglass. Rosemary knew her friend knew nothing and cared nothing for politics and the foolish war going on in the United States. But the captain, now . . . obviously, Rita found him a very handsome man.
    "We shall certainly rest easier, Captain Raffin,” Libby said, dabbing at her small, bowlike mouth with the fine linen napkin to cover her flush.
    Grant flashed each lady a reassuring smile, charming them; yet Rosemary was curious as to what Stephen thought about Grant, if he had underestimated Grant as she first had. But apparently not, or he would not have asked her to issue the officer an invitation to the New Year’s dinner.
    Next year, when she was no longer large with child, Stephen had promised her there would be more parties, more people, not just the intimate dinner with friends. The night before he had surprised her, coming to her bedroom just to talk with her. They had discussed small things — the feasibility of a windmill, the possibility of telegraph wires — and lightly debated the idea of improving on their cattle herds, which Stephen was against; Rosemary hoped to persuade him that cattle and sheep could feed together on the same ranges, that the sheep could eat the finer grass the cattle missed. "Mark my words, Stephen Rhodes, cattle will one day be more important in the Territory than sheep!”
    Stephen, who by nature she had learned, was reserved and undemonstrative, had pulled her into his arms and laid his hand on her greatly rounded belly. "You are beautiful as you are now . . . carrying our son.”
    Rosemary had blushed in pleasure, and she blushed now with the memory of the intimate moment as her gaze sought Stephen’s. He nodded discreetly. She understood. It was time for the women to withdraw.
    The talk would now be centered entirely on the War Between the States. And with all tempers near the breaking point due to the uncertainty of the people’s allegiance in the Territory, the table would be no place for the women.
    "Rita,” she said, "do you think Inez is awake yet? The women would like to see the baby.”
    She knew the last thing Hilda wanted to see was the Mexican baby, and she felt a small measure of guilt at the perverse satisfaction she received in baiting Louis’s wife.
    Although Hilda’s lips folded together, Rita took the cue. " Si , Rosita, it is time for her feeding.”
    As if a silent signal had been issued, the latest servant girl, the Apache child Magdalena, appeared with a tray of brandy glasses and a decanter, and the men began to draw out their cigars. The women made their way toward the double doors of the drawing room. But Rosemary heard Jiraldo demand, "And what of los indios , Captain Raffin? Not three weeks ago a band of Navajos raided mi campo del sur . Thirty head of sheep they stole! What will you do about them?”
    "I have special plans for the Navajo and Apache, gentlemen,” Grant replied with a calm assurance. "Even now in Washington, negotiations — ”
    But the pig-tailed Magdalena closed the drawing-room doors, and she did not hear the rest,