“Then send another telegram, damn it! Get me an answer! Dismissed!” The general’s booming voice shook the whole room, and a split second later a harassed-looking captain came out of Whitlock’s office looking as if he’d gone ten rounds with a boxing kangaroo. He closed the door behind him, but it flew open a moment later and a florid General Whitlock stepped into the opening. “And I want that report by the end of the day, Captain!”
“Yes, sir,” the officer said, making a hasty exit.
Whitlock turned away, but Rayna was already on her feet. “General Whitlock, a moment, please,” she said, hurrying across the room. Meade had no choice but to accompany her.
“Yes, what is it?” Whitlock snapped.
“I have an appointment, sir,” she said, careful to keep her voice polite. “I’ve been waiting for two weeks, and it’s a matter of great urgency.”
“You’re Miss Templeton, aren’t you? From Rancho Verde?” he asked.
“You’re the one who’s been plaguing my staff.”
Rayna managed a strained smile. “Yes, sir. I fear I’ve taken my considerable frustration out on some of your men.”
Whitlock nodded curtly. “Yes, I’ve heard all about it, and that was a damned fool thing to do.”
A comment about the pot calling the kettle black sprang into her mind, but she had the good sense not to voice it. “I realize that, General,” she said 91
Constance Bennett—Moonsong
[ e - r e a d s ]
contritely, “but my family has become ensnared in a very desperate situation, and you’re the only man in the territory who can possibly come to my aid.”
Meade was astonished by the honey in her voice. He hadn’t thought Rayna capable of the kind of feminine flattery she had suddenly slipped into.
On any other day Whitlock might have been susceptible to it, but not today.
“If this is about those Mescaleros I ordered onto the reservation, I—”
“Only peripherally, General,” she said hastily. She’d sensed an automatic rejection coming on, and she wanted to cut him off before he took a stance he couldn’t back away from. “If you’ll just hear me out, I believe the reason for my impatience these last weeks will become obvious.” She removed a packet of letters from her reticule and extended them to him. “I have letters of introduction from the governor and a number of other officials who hold you in high regard.”
Whitlock cleared his throat and took the letters. “Very well, Miss Templeton. Come in and we’ll discuss this problem of yours.” He looked sternly at Meade. “I take it you’re with the lady, Major?”
“That’s right, sir.”
“What is your role in this?”
“I’m merely a friend of the Templeton family, sir. I attended Miss Templeton’s father, Raymond, after his recent heart seizure.”
Whitlock was clearly surprised. “Raymond Templeton had a heart seizure?
I didn’t know that. When did it happen?”
“When your Captain Greenleigh kidnapped my sister,” Rayna replied, her pleasant tone slipping a bit. She’d told this story to everyone at the post who would listen and a few who wouldn’t. Why in blue blazes hadn’t anyone informed the general?
Whitlock’s pudgy face reorganized itself into a scowl. “Kidnapped? What the devil are you talking about? Greenleigh would never do something like that.”
“Oh, but he did,” Rayna argued, and would have said more if Meade hadn’t placed a restraining hand on her arm.
“General, please. If we could discuss this in your office?” he suggested mildly.
“All right. Come in, come in. I suppose I should clear this matter up before you damage the good name of one of my best officers.” He marched toward his desk, leaving Meade and Rayna to follow.
As soon as the general’s back was turned, Meade lowered his head to Rayna’s ear. “Calm down, or we’re sunk before we sail,” he muttered, then placed his hand at her waist and ushered her into the office.
“Now, what’s this about a kidnapping of your sister?” Whitlock demanded as soon as they were all seated.
Meade could see that Whitlock had gone on the defensive, and he decided it was time to take charge before Rayna could do her cause any more 92
Constance Bennett—Moonsong
[ e - r e a d s ]
damage. “At the time Captain Greenleigh seized the Rancho Verde Mescaleros a grave misunderstanding took place, sir. Raymond Templeton has a legally adopted daughter of Apache blood who was participating in a ceremony with the other Indians when we arrived. She was dressed in Apache fashion, and Greenleigh understandably assumed she was one of the Mescaleros. However, when the mistake was pointed out to him he refused to acknowledge the error.”
“Well . . .” Whitlock was at a loss, but he seemed determined to defend his man to the very last. “As you said, Major, his mistake was understandable.
Greenleigh had orders to round up all the Mescaleros.”
“That’s right,” Rayna said argumentatively. “But my sister isn’t a Mescalero.”
She handed him another set of papers. “Here are her adoption documents.”
Whitlock looked them over reluctantly and handed them back. “Well, I’m no lawyer, but they do seem to be in order.”
“It was a perfectly legal adoption, I assure you,” she told him. “My sister is as much a citizen as you or I, sir, yet she is being forced to live on the Mescalero reservation against her will.”
Whitlock frowned and pulled at his muttonchops. “Actually, Miss Templeton, the question of your so-called sister’s citizenship might be debat-able, since the Apache people have no legal standing in this country.”
Rayna’s composure slipped another notch. “General, my so-called sister is—”
“Is a gently reared young woman ill-equipped for life on an Indian reservation,” Meade said placidly. “I had the good fortune of being able to speak with her a number of times on the journey to the reservation, and she wants very much to go home. Naturally she is deeply concerned about her father’s health.”
“Templeton is quite ill, is he?” the general asked.
Meade nodded. “Yes, sir. The strain of seeing his daughter taken away was too much for his heart to bear. From what I understand, he is slowly regaining strength, but I am deeply concerned about the effect this will have on him if Miss Skylar is not returned.” He went on to explain the charade that was being carried out to protect Raymond from the shock of knowing Skylar had been taken away.
Whitlock was leaning back in his chair, plucking at his whiskers again, giving every impression of a man who had much better things to do with his time. Even before the general began to speak, Meade realized he and Rayna had been wasting their time.
“Well, that’s all very unfortunate, Major, but I don’t see how I can possibly be of any assistance to you,” he informed them.
“What?” Rayna gasped, coming to the edge of her seat.
“You heard me, Miss Templeton. There’s nothing I can do. Military control of this territory has been passed into the hands of General George Crook. All 93
Constance Bennett—Moonsong
[ e - r e a d s ]
matters regarding the Indians of the new Department of the Border are to be referred to him. This is now his problem to deal with.”
“You can’t be serious!” Rayna was on her feet in an instant, her hands planted on the general’s desk. “You caused this problem with your ridiculous order to incarcerate the Rancho Verde Mescaleros—now you can damn well solve it!”
“Rayna, calm down,” Meade ordered, coming to his feet.