Sergeant McKay had shaved. He was wearing an immaculate neckerchief, and his clean uniform was buttoned up to his chin. Even his horse's coat was shining. Some of the men could have sworn he was humming under his breath. He was going to town.
    He ambled towards Fort Lafayette's gate and two soldiers began to open it. He had barely crossed the threshold when a voice called him back. "McKay!"
    He turned his horse. His commanding officer was running out of Headquarters, rather undignified. He was a thin, ungainly man with heavy eyelids, given to insufferable mannerisms. McKay waited patiently while Captain Coleman caught up with him.
    "Where you goin'?"
    "Colorado Springs, sir."
    "Got a mission for you."
    "I'm off duty. Captain."
    "Till when?"
    "Midnight."
    "Mission starts at eight a.m. tomorrow. Here are your orders. Dismissed."
    After punctuating every phrase with a snobbish grimace, Captain Coleman handed McKay the papers. The sergeant disdainfully watched him turn away and was tempted to put the orders into his breast pocket and forget about it for the next five hours. His conscience got the better of him. He tore open the seal and started reading. He blanched.
    "Hold my horse a moment," he said to the nearest soldier, jumping off and darting after Coleman.
    The captain had just reached his office when he heard the voice behind him. "Sir! Just a moment! Wait, sir!" He turned and let the door open for McKay, who came in breathless, squeezing the papers in his hand. "These can't be for me. Can't be for anybody, actually."
    The captain looked annoyed. "Why?"
    "Because the Red Needle's one hell of a place."
    "Exactly, McKay. Gonna raze that den of scum right to the ground."
    The sergeant breathed deeply. "Sir, we've already lost two expeditions over the last three years. So many dead and wounded. An'  I know nothin' about this mission."
    "It was Sergeant Flaherty's mission. Got stung by a bumblebee."
    "Then cancel it."
    "I gave my word. Can't have raiders terrorizin' innocent citizens, McKay."
    "The last raid's been last year. Pueblo's safer now. The Red Needle's a deadly trap. Not even a whole garrison could clean it up. We'll be picked out one by one from the rocks."
    "I got total faith in your abilities."
    McKay stood with the papers in his hand, unbelieving. "I hear you're runnin' for Congress, sir."
    "What?"
    "Just askin'."
    "As a matter of fact I am. Where's the problem?"
    "I ain't gonna get myself an' my men killed for a damned publicity stunt."
    "I'll clean up Pueblo, McKay, an' that's a fact. That'll be my reward."
    The sergeant's mind was racing. "Or maybe is it some sort of punishment?" Coleman's upper lip wrinkled. McKay knew he had struck gold. "Why, sir? What've I done?"
    "I'm offerin' you the opportunity to prove yourself, Sergeant."
    "Never needed to."
    "You do after that disgraceful Cloud Dancin' affair."
    McKay straightened his shoulders. "With all due respect, Captain, I conducted what you call the Cloud Dancin' affair in the best possible way."
    "Reports not been sayin' that."
    "What reports?"
    "I found a censure of your actions at the reservation."
    "Who signed it?"
    "A Sergeant O'Connor."
    McKay felt like he was plunged back into a nightmare. "Sergeant O'Connor's dead, Captain," he said in a low voice.
    "Doesn't invalidate his report. Basically he says you let 'em go out of incompetence."
    The sergeant took a deep breath and answered slowly, in a smouldering rage, "O'Connor was a dangerous madman who tried to kill a man without any necessity and just managed to smash himself into a rock. I filed a report on him, for God's sake! Didn't you find that?"
    "No."
    Bureaucracy had unearthed O'Connor's report and buried McKay's. The sergeant felt the walls of his nightmare closing around him. He looked at his superior officer, hating with all his might the man's nervous gestures, his pompous uselessness. Captain Coleman had ruined his evening. Possibly he had ruined everything. Here he was, sent on a foolish mission to the most dangerous place in Colorado by a dead man's report and a mentally retarded officer. He was used to facing death, but like that, and especially at that moment...
    He saluted without any other words and got out.
    "Leave's extended to seven a.m.," called Coleman after him.
    Oh well, so he should even thank the moron, shouldn't he? He reached the gate and mounted again, his heart heavy with frustrated desperation. He spurred towards the town, leaving behind the newly-built fort that had held so many hopes for him.
    
    Alison was waiting for him on the porch of her home. She saw him approaching in the warm evening, still blessed with the light of the sun reflected by the clouds. It was going to be a spectacular sunset. She was a little embarrassed as he dismounted. She had greeted him very formally at Loren's store earlier that day, privately inviting him to dinner. She had no qualms at dining alone with him; she knew he was as honourable as she herself, and didn't much care about what others could think. Now that she watched his long-legged, big-boned, nervy figure walking up to her with that casual gait of his, looking less scruffy than usual, she found it difficult to forget Windy Creek, when a landslide had cut them away from Sully and the garrison, forcing them to spend the night in the shelter of a rock. She couldn't get out of her mind that single sleepy kiss before the fire.
    And even leaving out that dramatic turn, there was little doubt that McKay had been courting her. He had promised he would be back, he had written - and how! - during the two months of his absence and he had come at once into town to see her, accepting her invitation to dinner. Was it too much to hope that this time things would go by the book?
    "Alison," he greeted her.
    "Terence," she answered tentatively.
    He took her hand and almost shook it, then brought it to his lips. She appreciated that.
    "Come in," she said. "Dinner's almost ready." She motioned for him to leave his hat and gloves on the shelf by the door. She looked fully into his bright clear eyes and felt something like a shock wave. "What's wrong?"
    He shrugged. "There's a Captain at the fort, all fussin' an' frettin' over his candidature for Congress. Had to restrain myself from kickin' him in the shins."
    "Really, McKay! That would've been rude." She felt that the explanation didn't fully justify his troubled look, but she left it at that for the moment. "Have a seat."
    He unbuckled his gleaming US belt, draping it over the back of the chair. But first he took out a small chamois envelope from the cartridge pouch. "For you," he said.
    Alison was speechless. She took it and opened it at once, finding an Indian silver necklace studded with little sky-blue stones. It was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.
    "Found it in Denver. An old Sioux woman was sellin' 'em. Thought you'd like it." McKay didn't add that the woman, seeing him look over the necklaces, had told him "Your sweetheart would love one of these." He had just smiled. But his recent dealings with Indians seemed to have left him open to strange perceptions, both ways. When he had made his choice the woman had added "It will not match her eyes, but she will be enchanted." He had paid her and walked happily away with his necklace for some ten paces before stopping short in his tracks. Then he had dismissed the problem, thinking that the odds of her guessing right were fifty-fifty.
    As Alison tried it on, dark eyes shining, she and the jewel both made more beautiful by each other, McKay felt the joy of that day in Denver receding into the past. He had hoped to see it at her neck for many years to come. Now he did not dare to hope anymore.
    "Thank you," whispered Alison. She kissed him, soft lips on his cheek, her hand light on his shoulder. She smelled of lavender. He almost reached out to her, then let his arm fall back.
    Alison was still flustered. "I'll bring in the corn for a starter," she said, and disappeared in the kitchen. She wore a deep red dress, slightly old-fashioned, very rich at the sleeves. He hoped she would take off that white apron soon. He dreamed that things were different.
    He began wishing he had not given her the present, even that he had not come.
    
    After dinner they made a little tour of the farm. They were walking close to the wooden fence, and the September sky had turned bright orange and pink. Alison leaned out and pointed at the cabin with windows already alight under the shadows of the hills. "There live my employees. You've met Bella. They mind the fields and the house when necessary. And up there, you see that lighter patch of ground? It's mine too. I rent it to a family in town."
    Elbows propped on the wood, McKay nodded. "You got a lot to do."
    "I manage." She straightened up. "What time do you have to go back to the fort?"
    "I still got plenty." He didn't want to give a bad impression by saying that he had the whole night to himself. What he was actually going to do after he left her, he didn't know. Probably go back to his quarters to pack and have some sleep.
    "Let's sit a little in the porch," she said. He offered her his arm and she took it, putting also her other hand on it and stroking gently the tough blue fabric of his uniform. They walked slowly towards the house, and he felt a darkness in his soul at the thought of leaving her. Yet there was nothing he could do, and it was already bad as it was. He didn't know what to say to her now.
    They sat down on the steps to watch the clouds move across the sloped opening of the valley. Alison bowed her head on his shoulder. His arm around her waist, McKay realised she thought this was the first of a long series of visits. He had to tell her the truth. Every moment that passed he was behaving more and more like a scoundrel.
    Alison was living in a tickling, glowing warmth, and she thought it could get better, just a little bit better for now. She lifted her eyes to him with a tender smile, hoping he would get the hint. His mind suddenly blank, he bent his head and kissed her yielding mouth. She put her arms about his neck and, astonished at her own boldness, deepened the kiss, dreamily, maddeningly. They had not kissed like that at Windy Creek. Just this, he said to himself. Then I'll tell her. She'll understand. Just leave me this, to remember.
    She laid her head against him, wrapped up in his arms. Then she breathed deeply and said, "Now, McKay, will you tell me what's wrong?"
    How on earth had he thought he could hide something from those eyes? There was no easy way. "You know the Red Needle?"
    Alison felt cold now. She tried to dismiss the echo of that name, but fear was washing over her in chilling waves. "Yes."
    "Have to start tomorrow to go there an' flush out the raiders."
    She was still sorting out the flood of feelings and thoughts which had paralysed her mind. She had suspected something bad, but not that bad. "Nobody's ever made it," she whispered, and it didn't feel like the best thing to say.
    "No. Some have come back, though."
    "Can't you refuse?"
    "Not now. Only way out would've been to resign 'fore I received the orders. Backin' off now would mean a court martial."
    Alison still held him tight. "Why you?"
    McKay shrugged. "Long story involvin' a madman, a moron and a bumblebee."
    Involuntarily she laughed against his jacket. "And Congress, I suppose."
    "Ah yes. I forgot Congress."
    She looked at him. Finally the truth had emerged. His fine features did not look so constrained anymore. "You'll make it, Terence."
    He wished he could lie somehow. "I hope so. But I just - I shouldn't have come here tonight. I should've just sent you a message. This is just makin' things worse."
    "No," said Alison, and gave him another kiss, long and soft, running her fingers through his hair, making them both feel as if the porch steps had suddenly disappeared under them.
    Then she sat up straight and gathered her hands in her lap. "I've got something to tell you too. You talk about worse but you have no idea."
    He blinked, about to ask her something. Then he pressed his lips together and waited.
    "You remember that fiancé I told you about? He jumped the boat too late, I said. Too late for a lot of things."
    McKay drew his eyebrows together. He used to be quick at grasping concepts, but this time he tried to reject what he thought he understood.
    Alison was groping for words. "It didn't look all that wrong to me. I thought it was a normal thing for a man to ask of his sweetheart - To tell the truth I even found it quite interesting..." Her voice broke.
    Oh no. McKay closed his eyes, then feared his reaction could be misunderstood. He held out a hand, but met a rigid wall. She was terribly tense now. He firmly grasped her hands to dispel any doubt. "I don't care about it, Alison. It makes me even more sorry that I might not be around to make things better for you. Beyond that, it makes no difference."
    "Really?"
    "Yes."
    She smiled at him. His eyes were warm and reassuring. It was as though worrying about her had made him forget his own plight. And yet it was still there, and now it was their plight.
    "This implies another thing," she said quickly, her fear urging her onward.
    He nodded, encouraging her to speak.
    "What I mean is - I'd not be afraid to - to ask you if you wouldn't like to stay the night, Terence." Seeing McKay's stare, she added, "Here. With me."
    He looked at her in surprise, unable to hide the thrill those words had awakened in him. "I don't - I'd love to, Alison. But I don't think it's right."
    "It's not. I always imagined this time it would be a straight, regular thing - dropping in at the Reverend's and all."
    "Yes," nodded McKay with a wondering smile. "I meant to ask you formally, you know, as soon as I'd get back. Then everythin' happened so suddenly." He was holding her hands in his, gently stroking the knuckles. "If only I'd come back earlier. If only this stupid mission..."
    She shook her head, and he checked himself. He was not an if-only man. He looked into her eyes. "I'd like to get you in front of the Rev right now, Alison, but I don't think I can manage to let you go, not even to climb in the saddle." Her heart jumped. That was exactly the way she felt, her side pressed against his, as though he was a part of her already. "Yet I fear that if I stay it'd just make things worse while I'm away. Diff'rent memories, you know. An' if somethin' happens to me - you'll wish that you... you hadn't got so close to me."
    Alison freed her hands from his and caressed his face. "It's a bit late for that, Terence. It's been a hard decision, but now I know I can't stop halfway. I've known it since you said the words Red Needle. I want all I can have from you." She blushed a little, but she meant it exactly the way it had sounded. "And so do you."
    McKay looked away from her, his mouth tight. He was still torn. "I want - I don't want you to suffer, Alison. And that's not all. I feel responsible for any possible consequences."
    "Which is more painful?" she asked softly. "Regret or remorse? Waiting for the bullet or jumping from the cliff?"
    This time he was drawn to smile. "In my experience, jumpin' from cliffs ain't always deadly."
    Alison embraced him once again, feeling a little exhilarated, a little tearful. "Will you now - will you just stay here a moment like this? Don't say anything, please, Terence."
    McKay held her to his chest, stroking her hair, kissing her face, as the sky flared out with the last fires of sunset. No words were necessary anymore - those they had exchanged in their letters, those they were about to exchange, were enough. When their lips met once again she mused this was only their fourth kiss. They remained like that a long time, until they got up from the porch steps and entered the house hand in hand. Alison shut the door behind them. They went to the room she had shared with her sister and sat on her bed. She lost count of the kisses. She reached the full awareness of what she was doing only when she began unhooking his US metal buttons. But there was no turning back. They took each other gently, softly, holding their long-renounced desire in check for a slow rise to ecstasy. They had a whole long night to discover many things about each other. They slept a little towards dawn in a naked embrace, then it was already time for him to go.
    
    When Alison got up from the bed, slipping her nightgown on, McKay was already out on the porch, saddling his horse.
    "Mornin'," he called out to her with a smile. His hair fell in wet strands on his forehead, and he sported a new shadow on his cheeks.
    Alison came close and let him embrace her. "Hi," she said. "Aren't we cheerful today. It did something for you."
    "Seems so."
    "Has it been all that time?"
    "Well, if you have to ask," he said coyly, "it means it didn't show, did it?"
    She smiled and kissed him. "Not at all. Sorry for the arrangement. Any cramps?"
    "A li'l. All my life I've been sleepin' in cots or on the floor, an' now two in a single bed. We'll bring in a double bed, shall we? A four-post bed as big as it fits. Brass."
    Alison took a step back, watching him mischievously with folded arms. "And what about my own beds?"
    McKay turned back to his horse. "We could dismantle 'em an' put 'em in the barn. Keep 'em ready for the children. You have a barn?"
    "Yes, behind the house."
    "You didn't take me there."
    "Lots of places I've never taken you to before tonight, McKay."
    He stole a glance at her. How lovely she was in that white nightgown. He wanted to embrace her again, to feel her warm body against his, but he didn't trust his self-control.
    "Won't you come in and eat something?" asked Alison. "Yesterday we didn't finish the cake, and I can get some milk..."
    "No. I'm late already." He tightened the saddle belt and turned to her. "The kitchen table, too. All my life..."
    "Yes, yes, eatin' in army messes or on the floor. Bigger table, all right. But couldn't we just eat on our big brass four-post bed?"
    He considered the option. "Or get a big brass kitchen table an' sleep on it," he said deadpan.
    Alison burst out laughing. Then her eyes filled with tears as he recovered his hat from the window sill. "If you give me a second I'll put something on and come to the fort with you. I'd like to see you off, Terence."
    McKay's face darkened. "No. I don't think I can take that." He looked at her in all his openness and sincerity, hat in hand, and her heart split painfully down the middle when she saw he was close to tears too.
    She went to him. They shared a long embrace, a grateful, passionate, anguished kiss.
    "I'll be back, Alison," he whispered on her lips. "I swear. And this time it'll be to stay."
    She could but nod, and watch him as he put on his hat and got on his horse. Before turning he came closer and bent from the waist to kiss her again. Then he pulled down the brim of his hat over his pained look and spurred away in a cloud of dust. Alison couldn't take her eyes off his blue-clad figure until it had disappeared round the bend of the trail.

To be continued...

Don't miss the next chapter:
THE RED NEEDLE 2: THE WAIT