Page 37 of For This We Are Soldiers
He held out his hand and Hiram shook it, surprised down to his socks, but more cheerful than he thought he would be, standing there staring at the Dunlap duplex over Shaw’s shoulder and knowing Birdie O’Grady was gone for good.
Shaw grinned then, and he became the boyish, care-for-nobody fellow that Hiram knew even better. “When you write to Captain Harvey, tell him there’s hope, will you? I mean, assuming that our captain wants a report from you now and then.”
“Yes, sir, I will, sir,” Hiram said.
Hands on hips, Shaw asked, “How many letters has that been so far?”
“Only one, sir,” Hiram lied. “You’re better than you think.”
Shaw turned to look toward Officers Row. “I suppose I’ll go find out just how much bad odor I am in at the Dunlaps. See to our escort, will you? I’m sure they’d like to bed down for a few hours.”
“Yes, sir,” Hiram said, thankful to have a task that took him away from what he suspected would be a fraught time for the lieutenant. Maybe the man really did love Miss Hinchcliffe, with her flighty, frivolous ways and unremarkable brainpan.
He found the C Company escort grooming their horses in the cavalry stable, and tidied up his own faithful remount, even though the men said they would do it. He noted with quiet pride that the men had already groomed and grained Lieutenant Shaw’s horse, who was steadily munching through hay in a nearby loose box.
He sent the men to the cavalry barracks when they finished, where he knew they would find spare cots for a nap. He assured them he would join them soon. He was tired beyond belief and weary more in his heart because he wanted Birdie O’Grady as he had never wanted another woman in years. He was even more tired of duty, even though it had been the right thing, the honorable thing, the means of molding Lieutenant Shaw’s character into someone who would be a leader eventually.
He dawdled his way toward the cavalry barracks, wanting to veer toward Officers Row, until he saw Lieutenant Shaw dawdling along too, head down, the portrait of rejection. Hiram waited by the sutler’s store, willing to provide consolation, because that was what a good sergeant did, even as his own heart broke.
“Gone like the wild goose in winter,” Shaw said, when they stood side by side. “Oof! Major Dunlap said his sister-in-law threw a fit worthy of royalty and flounced away on the Shy-Dead three days ago.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Hiram said, and he meant it.
Shaw nodded. “I’ll miss her.” He laughed, and Hiram heard no sarcasm. It was a genuine laugh. “Major Dunlap said to me, ‘Laddie, she wouldn’t have fared well on the frontier. A woman has to be flexible.’”
“I’m sorry for you all the same,” Hiram said, and still meant it.
“I am going to drown my sorrows in some single malt whiskey,” Shaw said. “I think the sutler will open the officers’ bar for me. Get some sleep, sergeant.”
Hiram saluted and walked to the cavalry barracks. A sergeant in the stable had already told him to lie down on his cot in the barracks, so Hiram wasted not a minute in locating the room. With a sigh of profound gratitude, he closed the door behind him and flopped down on the iron bedstead. He sat up long enough to remove his boots and unbutton his trousers, then he dragged a blanket over him and promptly fell asleep.
He may have slept for hours, or maybe only minutes, when a knock on the door brought him awake immediately. He had no jurisdiction at Fort Laramie, but the person knocking wouldn’t go away. He stood up and buttoned his trousers, but didn’t bother with his boots. The soldier on the other side of the door would soon realize his mistake in sergeants and go away.
He opened the door on Birdie O’Grady. Her blushing face told him she had never been near a barracks before. Her obvious uncertainty suggested she wasn’t convinced she should be here now.
Her look lasted only the bare second it took for him to gather her close in a tight embrace. Her hands came up under his arms and circled his back. He could feel her clasping her hands together, and knew she had no plans to ever let him go.
They stood that way a long moment until he pulled back so he could see her face. He kissed her for the first time, and knew right away it was going to be a kiss he repeated many times in the coming years. She seemed no more experienced in kissing than he was, but her hands went to his neck and into his hair. She pressed her lips into his with real intent, purpose, and ownership.
They each pulled away at the same moment. He suspected her look of wide-eyed disbelief at her spontaneous action mirrored his own.
She spoke first. “I thought you didn’t want to see me, but I had to know for myself.” She spoke the words so soft and low, her lips still nearly on his.
“What … what do you mean?” he asked, smelling rose talcum powder. He took a deeper breath and another until he caught the scent of Birdie herself underneath.
“Lieutenant Shaw didn’t tell you I was still here?”
Hiram sucked in his breath, then started to laugh. He pulled Birdie into the room and closed the door, not wanting any chance spectators to see her there and speculate. He sat her down on the cavalry sergeant’s bed. He sat beside her. Trust Lieutenant Shaw, in his self-centered misery, to forget a minor detail like Birdie O’Grady. The man might be on his way to success as a leader of men—all signs pointed that way now—but he had a ways to go yet. Shaw was still a work in progress.
“I think he was too bowled over by Miss Hinchcliffe’s rejection to mention it,” he said, willing to give Arthur Shaw the benefit of the doubt.
“I can imagine,” Birdie said. “Glory be to all the saints, she threw quite a tantrum. And then when I stood there in front of her and resigned …”
Hiram took Birdie’s hand in his and kissed it. “You did what?”
“I resigned. Dropped her flatter than a Shrove Tuesday pancake.”
Hiram took it all in, relieved at the constancy of some women. “You hadn’t heard from me in several months,” he murmured into her hair, because she sat so close and he wanted her. “We learned later that the mail went astray.”
