the smooth line of her hip and leg and then the pencil stuck at random in the bun of her untidy hair. Teaching took its toll on coiffure, obviously. Hardly mattered; blondes had a certain indefinable something.
As he stood in the door, letting in all that cold air, she looked at him, and took his breath away with the width of her smile.
“Close the door, Major,” she said in her teacher’s voice that allowed no argument. He closed the door, then helped her up. Her hand was warm and he wanted to hold it forever.
He didn’t, of course, but he noted with something approaching glee that she hadn’t been in a hurry to release his, either.
As he waited, she spent a few minutes in conversation with Private Benedict. Joe helped her into her coat when she joined him, relishing the feel of tendrils of her escaping hair on his hand.
“A good day, Susanna?” he asked as they faced into the wind toward Suds Row.
“A very good one,” she assured him. “Tomorrow we will take some time during luncheon to construct lesson plans.”
“Sounds like you are teaching the teacher.”
“I am, but he has a fine natural instinct for the profession.”
It was harmless, innocuous conversation and it took them across the footbridge. He yearned to tell her of the letter he had written that day, and finally blurted it out as they approached the sergeant’s quarters. The result was most gratifying. Susanna turned her beautiful brown eyes full on him and touched his sleeve. She didn’t say anything, but the pleasure on her face made words unnecessary. Her obvious approval made him realize how much he had missed sharing the details of his life with a woman.
“It’s well and good, but I have no way of knowing if Monsieur Pasteur will even consider me as a student,” he said. “My French is barely workable.”
“Perhaps I should teach you this spring, Joe. I know a little.”
She knocked on the Rattigans’ door because he seemed to have forgotten. The mention of his name on her lips had sent him into a schoolboy sort of euphoria.
Supper was over too quickly. Sergeant Rattigan kissed his wife’s check and ushered Joe out the door.
“Maeve is so excited,” the man confided as they crossed the footbridge, Rattigan to return to his company’s barracks and continue his own school of instruction for the coming winter campaign to his lads. After a quick check on Mary Rose O’Leary, who was already putting on weight, Joe returned to his quarters to pace the floor for an hour and a half before returning to the Rattigans to escort Susanna home.
He was accompanied this time by Nick Martin. Susanna’s school may have changed venue, but the man seemed determined that his mandate to assist in every way possible would continue. It gratified Joe to watch the enigmatic fellow show his own loyalty to a lady others had been only too willing to cast off.
They went first to Company A barrack to collect Sergeant Rattigan, who had been sitting there, a palpable presence requiring good order. Joe knew that many of the married sergeants did just that in January and February, when restless privates grew more tired of each other, and fights were common. Joe appreciated the effort, since it relieved him of patching up men who had nothing better to do in winter than plague each other.
“Sir, something is different about Mrs. Hopkins today,” the sergeant began as they walked toward the footbridge, Nick trailing along behind. “At least, that’s what I think I noticed over supper.”
“I, too, Sergeant. Perhaps she is just glad to be teaching where she is appreciated.”
Whatever had happened to spark Susanna Hopkins must have continued during her first teaching session, Joe decided, after a few minutes of polite chat with the Rattigans, and then their own retreat to the other side of Fort Laramie. Susanna’s exhaustion was stamped all over her face, but something more remained.
“Tired?” he asked her, hoping she would hear the professional tone, and nothing more.
“I am worn-out, but, Joe, you should have seen the ladies! They are so eager to learn.”
“Then you’re not tired at all,” he said, offering her his arm, which she took.
“It’s all I ever wanted to do here,” she said simply. She looked over her shoulder at Nick, who trailed along. “Nick, Private Benedict told me that you are welcome to sit in the back of the classroom, if you’d like to learn.”