son she feared she would never see again, no matter how cheerful her face throughout the day. Joe allowed her those private moments of sorrow, because to interfere with them would have been unkind. After his own sorrow with Melissa’s death, he knew better than to mess with someone else’s grief.
He lay awake worrying sometimes at night after she slept, wondering where Tommy was, wondering if he should have sent Nick Martin to an asylum, as Al Hartsuff had advised. Maybe Joe was wrong to trust a man three-quarters insane.
His happiest moment came when Suzie met him at the door nearly jumping up and down in her excitement. “You won the poker jackpot at the Rustic Hotel today?” he teased, and laughed when she thumped him.
“Even better, my love,” she said, sitting with him on the front porch, her hand in his. “Today, all the officers’ wives with children, Lavinia Dunklin excepted, brought them to my summer school.” She mentioned a stickler who had held out longer than some of the others in forgiving Susanna for being human. “Joe, she told me I was the best thing that had ever happened to education at Fort Laramie.”
“I could have told her that,” he said, his lips against her cheek now.
“She invited us to play cards tonight.”
“You know I hate cards,” he said.
“But you love me, and you’ll go.”
Something in the words smacked of enormous confidence. As a doctor he could not have diagnosed what had happened to his wife. As a husband, he knew she was whole again.
As June passed the halfway mark, disquieting rumor made its way to Fort Laramie. It came as it always did, a thief in the night, carried by Indians, or Black Hills gold seekers. News of battle began to flicker like heat lightning. Joe never talked about it, knowing that a row of officers’ wives and a small community of enlisted men’s wives worried enough, without borrowing rumor. But there it was, and the feeling only grew stronger.
He didn’t say anything to Dr. Petteys, but he didn’t need to. When he sent Petteys south to Fort Russell for more medical supplies to bolster their depleted stores, the contract surgeon had made no comment beyond, “I’ll be back as soon as possible, Major.” It was as if talking about the possibility of high casualties was better not voiced, or it would be worse. Joe never had time to hang around the telegrapher’s shack, but he noticed others doing that.
Suzie didn’t know the rules of rumor-laden warfare and asked him at breakfast, “There’s been a battle, hasn’t there?”
He was a little short with her, but she knew him too well to take offense at such childishness. She gave him that level stare that reminded him of Melissa. Maybe it was a woman thing.
He nodded, reluctant to voice his concerns. Susanna stopped moving between the stove and the table to sit beside him, take his hand and hold it to her breasts.
“Whatever I can do to help,” was all she said, and then got about her business again, which meant her little classroom in the commissary warehouse.
He was grateful for the school, and not because he thought any great learning was going to take place during a Fort Laramie summer. He appreciated that it kept Susanna busy and took her mind off Tommy, if only briefly. He came to love her animated description of the day’s events in her school, which were always more interesting than his stories of pus, diarrhea and dry cough.
When the news came, it hit hard. There was no school on Saturday, and Petteys was on duty, two reasons for Joe to lie in bed and explore his wife’s body thoroughly. He had taken his leisurely time providing sufficient foreplay to earn a final objection from Suzie, in her own eagerness, who was ready and getting impatient. She typically climaxed twice, so the third time came as a testimony to the rare leisure of Saturday, leaving them both calm and content.
At least they would have been if the bugler hadn’t blown officers call. In a fort so understaffed, it was a summons closely akin to a fire bell in the night. Joe got up quickly, doing a quick wash while Suzie watched him, her blond hair so pretty and disheveled around her face, and her eyes drooping, tribute to his amazing prowess.
“What’s that call?” she asked. “I can’t remember.”
“It’s trouble, Suzie.”
“Comb your hair,” she called after him as he ran down the stairs, his