The Peacemaker by Chelley Kitzmiller Page A

ashamed. But she knew he was neither.
    Standing in front of the table, facing the window, he removed his hat and tossed it on the table. A cloud of dust rose up off the brim and crown. Then he stripped off his gauntlets and threw them on top of the hat. "Well, daughter, what do you have to say for yourself? You were told to stay home and take care of things there."
    Indy drew a steadying breath and spoke to his back. "Yes, Father, I know, and I fully intended to do just that, but the servants do everything that needs doing around the house and there really wasn't anything for me to take care of once you were gone."
    "In other words, you were bored and thought coming here would be a great adventure?"
    "No. The fact of the matter is that I was worried about how you would manage without someone to see to your needs. I thought I might be of help." She could tell he was furious by the way he rolled his shoulders back and straightened his posture.
    He turned around quickly and stood on the balls of his feet. "Well, miss, you thought wrong! If I had wanted help, I would have hired a striker!"
    His anger hit her like a hard slap making her suck in her breath. She felt herself weaken, then chided herself, telling herself that this was no more or no less than what she had been expecting. She likened his fury to that of a hurricane. At the moment he was all wind, but he'd eventually blow himself out. With that thought in mind, she resolved to weather the storm and not let him see how he upset her.
    She forced a light laugh as she pushed away from the door and walked around him to the hearth. "I beg to differ with you, Father, but you are very much in need of help," she said with a calm that belied her jumpy nerves. "Why, I couldn't believe these were your quarters when I first saw them. I've never seen such filth. I'm surprised you weren't overrun with vermin!" She turned to face him. "And to think," she scolded, narrowing her eyes and lowering her voice, "of all those lectures you gave Justice and me about being neat and tidy."
    "You blatantly disobeyed my orders, Independence. If a soldier disobeyed me the way you did, he'd be charged with insubordination and made to ride the cannon."
    It was a fagged, used-up threat that she had heard him say a thousand times before with his subordinates. Hearing it now, directed at her, made her bold. "Oh, for heaven's sake. As long as I can remember you've wanted to punish someone by making them ride the cannon , but you haven't done it yet, and it's unlikely you ever will. Besides, I'm not a soldier, Father. I'm your daughter, therefore, I'm not subject to military punishment." She paused to catch her breath. "Now, what's done is done," she told him in a dismissive tone. "I know you would like to send me back, but you can't. It's too dangerous. So why don't we just make the best of it until you get your new orders? Then we'll both go home." She struck a match to light the kerosene lamp sitting on the mantel.
    He stood behind her, glaring. "It seems you leave me no choice," he said in a tight voice, barely moving his lips. "But from now on, you'll do exactly as I say without question, and you will not under any circumstances interfere in my business or Army business. Do you understand? "
    She lifted her chin and met his gaze. "I understand completely."
    The dreaded confrontation was over and she would stay. Through weary eyes, she studied him. The harsh contours of his face gave him a cold, intimidating demeanor. His mouth curved down in a perpetual frown as his lips were unused to smiling. And his eyes, gray as chimney smoke, were deep-set and hooded beneath a sharp, jutting brow.
    " He's a hard man ," Prudence had said. Even harder now than before he'd left St. Louis, Indy decided, studying him covertly as he lit his cigar. She wondered if the change was the result of his assignment to Camp Bowie. He had put in for Washington. The President had hinted that there might be a position for him helping