Let’s hope my fake widowhood remains a secret, Susanna thought, returning her attention to the parade ground. “What is Lieutenant Bevins doing? He’s the one with the bright red sash?”
“Indeed he is. He’s inspecting the guard now, and will probably lead them through a short version of the manual of arms. Before frostbite sets in, he will give them the new password and the guard will take positions inside the guardhouse. Done for another morning. What comes next, Stanley, my man?”
“Fatigue call,” the little boy piped up, making the same sounds as the bugler, his fist to his mouth. He looked at Susanna for approval, and she kissed the top of his head.
“That means work detail,” the post surgeon explained, as he helped Stanley down from his perch. “They’ll work at various duties until the bugler blows recall, and then it’ll be mess call, Stanley’s other favorite call. There are other calls. You’ll learn them, because this is how we tell time at a fort. Now let us visit Major Townsend.”
“But it was Colonel Bradley who wrote to me about the teaching position. Is he not here?”
“He’s back East and Major Ed Townsend is commanding officer until he returns in a few weeks. Your credentials, madam?”
Susanna retrieved her credentials. Major Randolph waited in the parlor for her.
“Are you ready to sign a contract?”
She was, but Susanna only nodded, not trusting herself with words, because she wanted that contract so much. This will be a fresh start, she told herself as they walked along the row.
Major Randolph interpreted her silence correctly. “All the major wants is a schoolteacher,” the surgeon said. “He has a garrison to run, and more important concerns than your cousin’s lie.”
“I don’t relish pretending I am someone I am not, but Emily has already baked my cake for me, hasn’t she?” Susanna asked.
“Yes, sad to say,” he agreed. He stopped. “Should we say something to the major about Emily’s lie? It makes me uneasy, but would talking about something that might never happen make it worse?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Let’s … let’s not.”
They went to the adjutant’s office, a small building located between two double houses. A corporal seated at a high desk stood and saluted, then knocked on an interior door and went inside.
“Major Townsend is second in command of the Ninth Infantry,” Major Randolph explained. “Because there are more companies of the Ninth Infantry here than of the Second Cavalry, Major Townsend also commands this garrison. That’s the army way.”
When the corporal came out, he ushered them into Townsend’s office. Her former husband would have described Townsend as someone built like a fireplug, and so he was, Susanna decided. His hair was white and his smile genuine. He gestured to a chair in front of his desk and she sat. With what she thought was real impertinence, Major Randolph perched on the edge of the desk.
“We are friends of long acquaintance, Mrs. Hopkins,” Townsend said, correctly interpreting her expression. “It took only a brief stay in Joe Randolph’s aid station during the siege of Atlanta to form a friendship.”
Townsend nodded to his corporal, who brought another chair into the small space, so Major Randolph could sit.
Susanna took out her teaching certificates. “You’re a busy man. I won’t take up much of your time.”
“That makes you more efficient than most of my company officers,” he said, taking the papers from her. “Let us see here. Hmm, a second grade certificate, and you attended Oberlin College for three years.” He put down the paper and looked at her over his glasses. “This already makes you more intelligent than most of my officers. All they did was go to West Point and accumulate demerits.”
Susanna laughed. “Major Townsend, I doubt that!”
“I exaggerate only slightly,” he admitted. “Most served with distinction in our late war. You will teach a four-month school, ending in mid-May, for which the officers with schoolchildren have contracted to pay you forty dollars a month?”
“That is my understanding,” she replied. “My certificate is valid only in Pennsylvania, but the closest examination site here is Denver.”
“No matter. Pennsylvania’s loss is our gain.”
“Thank you, Major Townsend,” she said. “I believe there is a contract …”
“… which I have right here.” The major took a paper from his corporal. “Women and children in garrison come and go, but right now, you have ten students ranging in age from seven to fifteen. Each classroom day will begin following guard mount. Mess call will be observed, and then you will resume teaching until an hour before stable call.”
The major correctly interpreted her perplexed expression. “Let’s make that from nine-thirty to noon, and then one to three o’clock. Four and a half hours to educate a collection of children not used to school.” He leaned back in his chair. “My children are being educated in the East, with my dear wife. Army life often means separation. Your being here means officers’ children will be able to stay with their families. I doubt the children will be grateful, but I am. Sign, Mrs. Hopkins.”
She signed. He took the contract from her and stood up, ending their brief interview. “Joe can show you our idea for a classroom. Good day.”
She nodded to Major Townsend and was almost through the door when he stopped her.
“Mrs. Hopkins, I am sorry for your loss,” he said simply. “It always seems that war is hardest on those who don’t wage it.”
Red-faced, Susanna nodded and let Major Randolph usher her out. “I hate deception,” she whispered, when they were outside in the cold again. “Maybe I should have said something. You know him well. Should I?”
The surgeon remained silent for a long moment, then shook his head slowly. “I think the moment for that passed when Emily told her lie,” he whispered back. “I confess I am not certain what to do. What do you think, Mrs. Hopkins?”
I think this will not end well, she told herself.
Chapter Six
She let him take her arm on the icy steps outside. The cold air felt good on her face; too bad it could not calm her conscience.
“I think this the best place for school,” the major was saying as they continued around the parade ground until they stood in front of Old Bedlam, with its bizarre red paint. “The front room used to be headquarters, during the late war,” he said, careful with her on the steps. “It’ll be a good classroom. As you will see, we’ve been accumulating desks.”
He opened the door and it swung on creaky hinges. He went to the window and pulled back the draperies, which made her cough.
“God, what a firetrap,” the surgeon said mildly. “What do you think?”
When the dust settled, Susanna walked around the room, admiring the mismatched but suitable desks. She looked at a connecting door.
“Bachelor officer’s quarters,” he said. “Some overworked second lieutenant with no family lives there. We call them orphans. This building is referred to as the orphanage.”
He walked to a small desk with delicately turned legs, the best desk in the room. “This will be yours. Well?”
“This will do,” she said, feeling her spirits rise as she began to see a classroom in the dust, mouse nests and cobwebs. “I’d like to start school on Monday. Is there time for a miracle?”
“That’s barely