The Peacemaker by Chelley Kitzmiller Read Free Book Online Page B

least not at the moment. And as far as men go, I never had much time for that sort of thing. I was always so busy taking care of the house and Father." She shrugged.
    "I see. Well, then, you'll just have to take my word about Shatto. He'd have every woman here dreaming about him if he were a white man . . ." She rolled her eyes and made a funny face.
    Indy wasn't amused.
    "Well now, let's get you up and dressed. I've prepared your quarters so that at least you have a place to sleep and bathe, but I have to tell you there's a lot yet to be done." She gave a heavy sigh. "Your father—I mean, the colonel—it's apparent he hasn't lifted a broom to the place since the day he moved in. I cleaned the bedrooms, but that's as far as I got, so consider yourself warned."
    On the other side of the privacy screen, Captain Nolan snored loudly. The two women looked at each other and broke into laughter.
    In spite of Prudence's warning about the condition of her father's quarters, Indy was shocked and appalled. She had been prepared for dirt and disorder, typical of any man who didn't have a woman to take care of him, but she had not been prepared for this—this went beyond dirt and disorder.
    The main room—the sitting room or parlor— was a perfect square, with a front window facing the parade ground, and a southern window looking out to the detached kitchen and a domed mountain that backed the camp. The inside adobe walls looked much the same as the outside walls, except lighter in color.
    The furniture, what little there was, consisted of a scarred pine table, two camp chairs, and an iron bedstead like the one she'd just vacated. Several half-eaten meat pies, no doubt provided by some of the officers' wives, were so old they'd grown fuzz. Tin plates, encrusted with food, had been pushed to one end of the table and haphazardly stacked. A saddle, in need of mending, had been tossed in the corner beside the window, along with a sword belt, an old pair of riding boots, and an obscene boot jack, the iron cast in the likeness of a naked woman sitting down, her legs spread wide open.
    Army regulations allotted a colonel four rooms with an added detached kitchen. Yet, it was obvious that her father used only this one room to eat, sleep, and live in. It seemed a great waste when there were probably several officers with families who could have made good use of the extra rooms.
    Slowly she walked across the room to the hearth. There, on the mantel, above the stone fireplace, was evidence that this was indeed her father's quarters: several well-worn books by Scott and Irving, and Dennis Mahan's textbook, Course of Civil Engineering . Mahan was a renowned instructor at West Point where her father and U. S. Grant had learned the art of war .
    Indy lifted the book off the mantel. The leather binding had recently been oiled. The book fell open at a page long held by a child's golden curl. She reverently touched the silky lock and recalled how she had teased her little brother for having such beautiful, golden, curly hair.
    "Do you happen to know where my father might be now? I'd like to talk to him."
    "I wouldn't expect to see him until tomorrow anyway. He took a patrol out right after I spoke to him this morning. They went hunting for Chie. It's a waste of time and energy as far as the men are concerned, but your father is the one in command."
    Indy looked up from the book. "Why do you say that?" she queried in an even voice that belied her irritation. She resented people speaking badly of her father.
    "The Apaches know every inch of this land— every mountain crevice, every arroyo, every canyon. If they don't want to be found, no soldier on earth can find them, especially the colonel."
    Indy stared at the textbook in her hands. The author had taught his students warfare strategies based on those of Frederick the Great and Napoleon—civilized men—not desert nomads. What Pru had just said, combined with what Captain Nolan and Sergeant Moseley