Battle of Lookout Mountain by Gilbert L. Morris Page B

“No, I don’t reckon it will. He’s so mule-headed stubborn that I don’t think anything could do that.”
    Lori opened the door and smiled. “Why, Royal,” she said, “come in—I really didn’t expect to see you.”
    Royal had managed to get permission from Lieutenant Smith to spend an afternoon in town. He had carefully shaved and dressed in a clean uniform and found his way to the Jenkins home, a two-story, white frame house on the outskirts of Chattanooga.
    He entered and looked around. “Will it be all right with your parents if I come calling?”
    “Of course it will,” Lori said. “They’re not in right now, but they’ll be back soon.”
    She was wearing a white dress that fitted her neatly, and her auburn hair was done up in a fashion that Royal had never seen before. The sunlight came through the windows just then, striking it, and it gave off red glints. “You look so good, Lori,” he said simply.
    Lori flushed at his compliment. “Why, thank you, Royal. Come into the kitchen. I was making a batch of cookies.”
    Royal followed her and sat on a high stool, watching as she worked. When she asked about Drake, he sighed. “It’s not good news, Lori. He gotinto a fight with a sergeant and got put in the guardhouse.”
    “What was the fight about?”
    Royal did not want to tell the entire story and said simply, “Oh, you know Drake. He’s just hotheaded.”
    “Will he have to stay there long?”
    Shifting uncomfortably on the stool, Royal ran his hand through his crisp blond hair. “Not too long, I hope. Sergeant Pickens is a good man. He’s the one that Drake had the fight with. The sergeant went to the lieutenant and said it wasn’t all Drake’s fault. I expect maybe he’ll be getting out in maybe a week.”
    “I hate to hear that happened,” Lori said. She cut perfect circles in the cookie dough with a tin can while she kept Royal talking about the battle and what he had been doing. Then she popped a pan of cookies into the oven and took off her apron. “Now, I’ll fix some coffee—or would you rather have tea?”
    “Coffee’s fine,” Royal said. “When will the cookies be done?”
    Lori looked very pretty as she stood there laughing at him. “In ten minutes or so. You’re always interested in sweets, aren’t you?”
    “Yes, I am.” Suddenly Royal took her hand. It still had flour on it. “I always did like sweet things.”
    Again Lori blushed but quickly laughed again. “You soldiers are all alike!” she exclaimed. “Always telling lies to young ladies.”
    “And I bet you’ve heard a lot of ’em, with all the soldiers in town.”
    Lori did not answer, but she drew her hand back. “You behave yourself.” She made coffee and,when the cookies were done, laughed to see how greedily he gobbled them up.
    “Don’t strangle yourself!” she admonished. “You can have all you want.”
    “Can I have some to take back to camp?”
    “Yes, you can, and be sure you take some to Drake.”
    “I’ll do that!” Royal promised.
    They talked for more than an hour, and then Lori’s parents came in. Micah Jenkins was a tall man of forty-five. Her mother was younger. They both welcomed Royal.
    “Can you stay for supper, Private?” Mrs. Jenkins asked.
    “Well, I think I can. I’ll have to get back before midnight, though.”
    Mr. Jenkins chuckled. “We don’t usually eat until midnight, soldier, but we’ll fill you up and get you back in plenty of time.”
    Royal thought the evening was wonderful. Mrs. Jenkins was an excellent cook, and her daughter was almost as good. When they finally sat down, the table was piled high with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, and onions. When that was gone, Royal applied himself to the cherry pie that Lori had made for him.
    Pushing his chair back, he said with satisfaction, “I wish you’d sign on as our company cook, Mrs. Jenkins. We don’t get cookin’ like this.”
    “I don’t expect any army food is like this,” Mr.