5
Fort Daniels, 23 February 1871
Mrs. Soper looked Claire up and down. And up and down again.
“Don’t they feed you skinny girls up north?” she asked. “You been ill or something?”
Major Longchamp didn’t say anything. He emanated amusement and a sort of curiosity. Claire got it—this was a test. Strangely, she didn’t get any kind of emotion from Mrs. Soper, and that disturbed her more than anything. Was the woman so war-weary that she’d given up on feelings? Or was she so used to dealing with Major Longchamp that she’d learned to not make her emotions evident?
“Yes, ma’am,” Claire said, deciding that honesty was always the best policy. “I was, but I’m better now, and it wasn’t anything catching.”
“Good, then. I like a girl who tells the truth.” Mrs. Soper nodded once, the downward strok
