Page 17 of The Heart’s Charge

He conquered the tower of tubers heroically, determined to impress the fair maiden with his knightly knife skills. He even went so far as to chop the spuds into chunks and dump them in the pot of water waiting on the worktable. All for naught. Kate had not returned. And unless restocking supplies included knitting new blankets by hand, her excuse had run out of viable duration.

The Kate Palmer he’d known wouldn’t abandon a guest, especially not an old friend she hadn’t seen in a decade. She was kind and hospitable, always cognizant of the feelings of others. Sometimes too cognizant, he thought, frowning at the memory of the way she’d rejected his proposal all those years ago, insisting that she wouldn’t allow him to sacrifice his future to salvage her reputation. As if a future with her would have been some kind of punishment.

Therefore the fact that she’d abandoned him to finish potato duty alone meant he had spooked her. The trouble was, he couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Had dormant feelings awoken in her the way they had in him, or had his feelings always been one-sided? Maybe her rejection of his proposal had not been as noble as he’d thought. Maybe she’d just been sparing his feelings, covering the fact that she had no actual desire to tie her life to his, preferring to live with a tattered reputation rather than as his wife.

Thankfully a squabble breaking out amid the younger ranks saved him from pondering that particularly depressing thought any further.

“That’s mine!” Ted yelled, stomping his foot for good measure. “Give it back, Ruby!”

The girl shook her head and handed the wooden horse on wheels to the smaller boy behind her. “You’ve had it long enough. It’s Quill’s turn. Miss Katherine told us we have to share. Remember?”

Mark pushed away from the side of the house and eased his way toward the confrontation in the middle of the yard.

“I’m not done with it yet!” Ted grabbed the toy and yanked it away from Quill, who immediately commenced crying.

Ruby made a grab for the toy herself, but Ted ran off, knowing she’d never catch him with the limp that slowed her down. “I’m gonna tell Miss Katherine!” She shouted the threat after him, but Ted just turned and stuck his tongue out.

“Hold up there, partner.” Mark scooped Ted up from behind in a one-armed hold. “A gentleman never sticks his tongue out at a lady.” He gently but firmly removed the toy horse from Ted’s grip. “Neither does he refuse to share with those around him.”

Ted’s legs kicked Mark’s knees as he squirmed in protest. “Not fair! It’s my turn.”

“Tell you what. Why don’t we play a different game altogether?” Mark strolled over to a small elm a few feet away that tethered the end of the empty clothesline stretching across the yard from the back porch. Raising the wooden horse above his head, he secured it in a V formed by two branches.

Ted’s squirming slowed, and his head tipped back as he frowned up at his captor. “What kind o’ game?”

“It’s called Cavalry.”

“How do you play?” The quiet question came from Ruby, who approached slowly with one twin on either side, their hands clasped in hers. Quill sniffed and rubbed his teary eyes with the heel of one hand.

“Well,” Mark said, “when I was in the Army, I was a trumpeter. It was my job to sound the bugle.”

Abner, who had been building some kind of structure out of sticks and rocks at the edge of the barn, abandoned his project and jogged over to join the discussion. “You mean like the battle charge?”

“Yep. But there were a bunch of other calls too. Mostly used in camp to tell the soldiers what to do and where to be. One tune told the men it was time to wake up; one called them to the stable to take care of their horses; one told them it was time to eat; one told them it was time to practice their drills; one told them it was time to get ready for bed; and the final tune—“Taps”—signaled that all lamps were to be extinguished and all talking was to cease. How about I teach you a few of the calls, and we see if you can remember what to do for each one?”

Ted’s face scrunched as he craned his neck to meet Mark’s eye. “But you ain’t got no bugle.”

Mark grinned. “Actually, I do. In my saddlebag. Shall we fetch it?”

A chorus of excited yeses had them setting off for the barn.

Mark had removed the saddles and gear from Cooper and Augustus earlier, so the bag he sought sat near the barn entrance on a low shelf. It took only a moment to throw open the flap and pull out what he sought.

“That’s jus’ a bunch o’ old clothes,” Ted said, disgust lacing his tone.

Mark chuckled and hunkered down so the boy could better see the odd lumps inside the bundle. He unwrapped a trouser leg to expose the top of the bugle’s bell. “When I was in the Army, I would wear it strapped around my chest so the bugle was always close at hand in case my captain needed me to signal the men. But now that I’m retired from the cavalry, the horn stays in my bag. I cover it with spare clothes to protect it.”

He finished unwrapping it, taking a moment to shine a fingerprint off the bell before shoving the clothes back in the pouch. It wasn’t the concert trumpet he’d once hoped to play in the Boston Symphony, but this one carried memories as well as music. So many that he’d purchased the instrument from the Army when he’d mustered out, not wanting to hand it over to another trumpeter who might think it merely a piece of brass.

“Now,” he said, straightening, “let’s start the game!”

Mark set his lips to the mouthpiece and sounded the most recognizable call in his repertoire. At the same time, he pointed dramatically with his left arm, straight as a cavalry saber.

Abner was the first to yell. “Charge!”

The rest joined in as they ran out of the barn and charged into the yard.

What kind of a coward hid behind baby clothes? Katherine blew out a sigh, shook her head, and clicked the cabinet door closed. One could only count a pile of diapers so many times, and she’d exceeded that number by about fifteen.