Cowboy to the Rescue

by Louise M. Gouge

  “I don’t want to put you out, Nate,” Daddy said.

  “Not at all, sir. I—” Mrs. Northam began.

  “They won’t be here long,” the Colonel said. “I’m sure Anders is anxious to get on his way to the silver fields.” He waved Nate toward the wagon. “Get on in there and help him out.”

  Instead of the instant obedience Susanna expected to see, Nate fisted his hands at his waist. “He’ll need to recuperate for quite a while before he goes anyplace. And they’ll need another team of horses.” His father started to respond, but Nate hurried on. “We need Mr. Anders to give us a good description of those horse thieves so we can put the word out to everybody. They’re a threat to the whole valley. If they get away with what they did, all sorts of criminals will think—”

  “You think I don’t know that?” The Colonel silenced Nate with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Now, let’s get this done.”

  Despite her outrage over the Colonel’s behavior, Susanna could not fail to be impressed by his and Nate’s strength as they lifted Daddy’s cot from the prairie schooner and carried it toward the house. Daddy was not a small man, so they set him down and summoned two men—she guessed they were called cowboys—to help carry the invalid up to the second floor of the house. Susanna didn’t have time to notice much as they entered and climbed the stairs, but what she did see impressed her with its beauty and grandeur, much like the mountains surrounding this high valley. While she wouldn’t call it a mansion, it certainly was an imposing domicile.

  Within ten minutes, Daddy was resting in a charmingly masculine room, where guns and antlers decorated the walls, and pine furniture and woven rag rugs contributed to the rustic atmosphere. Above Nate’s handsome pine secretary, a glassed-in bookcase held several leather-bound books. Susanna didn’t take time to read the titles, but she longed to know what he read besides Dickens.

  “And now for you, Miss Anders.” Mrs. Northam took Susanna’s arm and led her down the hallway to another bedroom very different from Nate’s. Frilly white curtains fluttered in the breeze wafting through the two windows. A pink-and-blue patchwork quilt covered the four-poster bed, and a blue velvet overstuffed chair sat nearby on a patch of carpet. The scent of roses filled the air, although none were in the cut-glass vase on the bedside table. “This is our daughter Rosamond’s room. When she returns from her friend’s house, she’ll be pleased to learn she has a roommate. Maisie’s coming with her to spend the night, but we can bring in an extra mattress.”

  “You’re so very kind, ma’am.” Susanna’s eyes stung. Would these other girls truly welcome her? Would Rosamond be like her mother or more like her inhospitable father?

  Sudden weariness filled her, and she eyed the feather bed with longing. As if reading Susanna’s mind, Mrs. Northam gave her a brief hug.

  “Why don’t you lie down? I’ll send our girl Rita up to wake you when it’s time to eat.”

  “How can we ever thank you?” And how could she think any evil of this sweet Yankee lady?

  * * *

  “I will speak to you in my office, Nate. Now.” The Colonel didn’t grant Mr. Anders so much as the courtesy of a parting word, but strode from the room toward the front staircase. The two cowhands followed after him.

  Nate gritted his teeth as he watched his father leave. Pasting on a more pleasant expression, he turned to the bed where Mr. Anders lay, his gaze on Nate.

  “You get some rest, sir.” Nate bent forward to adjust the quilt. “If you need anything—”

  “You’ve done a lot, young man.” The look of approval in his eyes caused a stirring in Nate’s chest. How would it feel if his father looked at him that way? “You’re a true Good Samaritan, just like the Good Book says.”

  Nate cleared his throat. He wanted to say aw, shucks, like his youngest brother might. Instead, he offered, “Don’t mention it, sir. I’m glad to help. We all are.”

  Mr. Anders coughed out a laugh, then grimaced and clutched his ribs. “I wouldn’t say all, son, but I’ll let it go at that.”

  Nate took his leave, shutting the door behind him and offering a prayer for the old man’s recovery. At the top of the stairs, he hesitated. The Colonel had ordered him down to his office, but Nate couldn’t just go off and leave Susanna. He walked to Rosamond’s room and tapped on the door just as Mother swung it open.

  “Nate.” She reached up to give him another welcoming hug. “Oh, it’s so good to have you back home. I miss you so much when you make these long trips for supplies. I don’t know why your father can’t just send some of the hired men.” She cast a quick look at Susanna, and her eyebrows arched briefly. She opened and shut her mouth as though she had started to ask him something, then changed her mind. Instead, she patted his cheek. “I’m going downstairs to finish helping Angela and Rita with the baking. Then we’ll prepare supper. You may stand right here in the doorway and speak to Miss Anders for two minutes. Then I expect to hear your boots on the downstairs floor fifteen seconds after that.”

  Nate pursed his lips to suppress a grin. “Mother, Susanna and I have been out on the trail together for two days, with her father looking on the whole time. You don’t have to worry about any improper behavior.”

  “Susanna, is it?” Mother looked at her. “And I suppose you call him Nate?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Susanna returned a sweet smile. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

  “Hmm.” Mother got a speculative gleam in her eyes. “No, dear, not at all.” She swept past Nate, wearing a soft grin and watching him the whole time as she headed for the back stairs that led to her kitchen.

  All of a sudden, the kerchief around Nate’s neck seemed awfully tight. Mother often teased him about girls. It seemed to him that was what most mothers did to their sons. But she’d never said anything so bold in front of a young lady.

  “I hope you don’t mind her.” He leaned against the doorjamb, crossed his arms and offered Susanna an apologetic grimace.

  “Not at all.” She untied her bonnet and hung it on the back of Rosamond’s desk chair. “She’s very kind and hospitable.” Now serious, she leveled a steady gaze on him. “I’m afraid your father is not quite so pleased to have us as guests.” Biting her lower lip, she stared out the window. “Maybe we should go back to the café. It seems Mr. and Mrs. Williams would be—”

  “No.” Nate spoke more sharply than he intended, and she blinked. “I mean, they’re the salt of the earth, but they run their place without help, so it might be a burden for them. We have servants and cowhands and a big family.” He rolled his hat in his hands. “Besides, I feel it’s my responsibility to see that your father gets back on his feet.” That thought had just come to him. Yet hadn’t the biblical Good Samaritan taken responsibility for the beaten merchant even after taking him to the inn? Nate knew he could do no less.

  Susanna’s blue eyes were rimmed with tears. “I don’t know what to say.”

  He barked out a laugh that didn’t sound quite as cheerful as he intended. “I do. We’re having steak for supper, and I can’t wait to bite into a big juicy one.”

  Smiling again, she laughed, too. “You mean no beans?”

  “Nathaniel Northam!” The Colonel’s voice thundered up the staircase.

  Nate gave an artificial shudder. She didn’t need to know how much he was truly quaking inside over his father’s angry summons.

  “That’s right. No beans.”

  Her soft feminine laughter followed him all the way down the stairs, and he barely had time to wipe the grin off his face before stepping into the Colonel’s office for his scolding—undeserved but nonetheless expected.

  Chapter Five

  Susanna’s laughter died away, and with it her good feelings. Unless she’d missed something, Nate didn’t deserve to be yelled at or scolded like a mischievous boy. In her opinion, it was that Yankee colone
l who needed a scolding, and she would be glad to give it to him. He had a noble, good-hearted son, and yet he was beating him down for no good reason.

  She’d noticed the difference in Nate the minute they arrived at the ranch. For two days, she’d watched a capable, authoritative, helpful man take care of business. But the moment his father stepped out the front door, Nate became an awkward servant trying without success to please an implacable master.

  An uncomfortable sensation stirred in her stomach. Back home in Georgia, it wasn’t just the carpetbaggers who mistreated people. She’d seen for herself how some Southerners treated their former slaves as if no war had happened, as if no Emancipation Proclamation had freed them. She was thankful Daddy and Mama got rid of the plantation and moved to town. There they didn’t have to deal with such things as getting enough people to work in the cotton fields, work they’d always done as slaves but now had to be paid for. The house servants Susanna’s parents had employed received a salary and were well treated. She’d never heard Daddy or Mama speak to a servant like the Colonel spoke to his own son. The Southern man she married would need to understand she expected no less for their servants.

  Weariness once again overtook her. She untied and slipped off her walking boots and lay on the bed, but could not sleep. Despite Nate’s being a Yankee, she must somehow find a way to pay him back for his kindness. Even knowing the trouble he would get into with his father, he had saved Daddy and her from untold grief, perhaps even death. That was worthy of a reward of some kind. But what could she do? The Northams were obviously wealthy ranchers, so he didn’t need any material repayment. All she could do was pray and let the Lord work things out.

  Her eyelids grew heavy, but she managed to whisper a prayer for Nate to make it through his current scolding without too much difficulty. Even if he was a Yankee...

  * * *

  “Did you check the entire shipment before you loaded it up?” The Colonel stood behind his large oak desk, bracing himself on his fists as he leaned forward in a threatening pose. With him standing, Nate didn’t dare sit down, no matter how weary he was from his travels. “Every plate? Every cup?”

  An unfamiliar thread of assurance wove briefly through Nate’s chest, just before the more familiar anger roared up and closed his throat. Of course he’d checked the shipment before loading it onto the wagon. How stupid did the Colonel think he was that he would have the horses haul home a broken cargo? But a bitter retort never got him anyplace, so he said, “Yessir. Everything was in perfect condition.” He made sure he spoke loudly, clearly and respectfully so his father wouldn’t have further cause to yell.

  Yet he couldn’t leave it at that. “It was a good thing Miss Anders was with us.”

  Snorting, the Colonel straightened and stared at him as if surprised he would offer additional information without being asked.

  Nate hurried on. “When we got to the river, she suggested that we take it over on the train. I mean, the water was fast, and when we took their wagon through first, we drove over a lot of rocks and branches. So I flagged down the train and—”

  “And you needed someone else to suggest that obvious solution?”

  Nate stepped back, and the heel of his boot hit a chair. Somehow he managed not to lose his balance. “W-well, you had it brought by wagon all the way from Westport because you didn’t trust the trains, so, no, sir, I didn’t think of it.”

  Again, the Colonel snorted out his disgust, although Nate had no idea what had him so riled. His father ran a hand across his jaw and sat in his leather-covered desk chair. “Now, about those people—”

  “Yessir.” Nate still wouldn’t sit until invited to do so, but the ache in his legs didn’t help his temper. “Those people. I know for a fact that you couldn’t have driven on past them any more than I could.” Where had he gotten the courage to say that? “And you would have been ashamed of me for not stopping to help.”

  The Colonel’s eyes narrowed. “That didn’t mean you had to bring them home to burden your mother. You should have left them in Alamosa.”

  Nate explained the situation at the hotel. “Even your name didn’t affect the proprietor.” He offered a sheepish grin.

  The Colonel didn’t react. “Just make sure your mother doesn’t have extra work. And make sure they leave as soon as possible. That Anders fellow seems like the kind of lazy Southerner who will sit around expecting people to wait on him like his slaves used to do.”

  Nate wouldn’t ask how he knew whether Anders had kept slaves. Not everyone in the South had. But his father often spoke disdainfully of Southerners, as if they were all the same, all except Reverend Thomas, the preacher he’d brought from Virginia.

  The Colonel snatched up the packing list for the china and thrust it toward Nate. “The first time your mother goes out visiting, you check the shipment again to make sure nothing broke on the way from Pueblo. If it did, I may be able to get a replacement from San Francisco by the time our party rolls around.” He waved a dismissive hand. “I expect you back to work on the new addition before dawn tomorrow. Anders and his daughter may get to sit around, but you’re back on the job.”

  Nate started to say he’d been on the job during this whole trip to Pueblo, but his father slapped the paper back on the desk, causing him to jump.

  “And don’t be getting any ideas about that Anders girl. Maisie Eberly will turn eighteen in a few weeks, and George and I expect an announcement from the two of you right after her birthday.” The Colonel pulled out a ledger and opened it, scanning the pages as if prospecting for gold, effectively dismissing Nate.

  He stared at the top of his father’s head. No, he would not be getting any ideas about the lovely Miss Susanna Anders, not her or anybody. He had too many things to work out in his life before taking on a wife or even a sweetheart, not the least of which was whether or not he would keep working like a slave for his father. And he certainly wouldn’t be proposing to Maisie. It wasn’t fair to either one of them. But George Eberly was as domineering as the Colonel, so avoiding marriage could turn out to be the hardest thing Nate—and Maisie—had ever done.

  * * *

  “I’m so grateful to you for sharing your room with me.” Rested after her nap, Susanna sat in the blue velvet bedroom chair while Rosamond Northam and her friend Maisie Eberly sat side by side on the bed. Dark-haired and green-eyed like her brother, Rosamond had her father’s lean face and her mother’s sweet smile. “I’ll try real hard not to put you out.” She’d never had to share a room and had no idea how this girl would react to such an intrusion.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. We’ll have a good time.” Rosamond nudged her friend. “Won’t we, Maisie?”

  “You bet we will.” Maisie giggled, and her curly red hair bounced as she nodded her agreement. “Just like the Three Musketeers.” She leaned toward Susanna. “Have you read Dumas’s book?”

  Caught up in the younger girl’s merriment, Susanna offered a more ladylike laugh. “Yes, but I’m a little rusty with my swordplay.” She searched her mind for specific scenes from the exciting tale. “And I doubt we’ll find any queens to rescue.”

  “Maybe just a cowboy or two.” The girls giggled and bounced and put their heads together in a familiar way. Despite their differing coloring and features, they were like two peas in a pod.

  Susanna’s heart warmed. What nice young ladies, although at sixteen and seventeen, they still had some growing up to do. She had no doubt Mrs. Northam was responsible for any measure of decorum her daughter displayed, but the way they had noisily run up the front staircase a while ago revealed that both of them also possessed a bit of Colorado wildness. Someone should establish a finishing school out here. They would probably find many students among ranchers’ daughters. Of course, Susanna would never correct them, for that in itself would be a dreadful breach of etiquette. All she could do was set an example of
refined behavior.

  A soft knock on the door interrupted their merriment, and a dark-eyed girl of perhaps fourteen poked her head in the door. “Miss Rosamond, Mrs. Northam requests your presence in the kitchen.”

  “Thank you, Rita. Tell her we’ll be down soon. And bring us some hot water and towels so we can wash up.”

  “Yes, miss.”

  Rita disappeared, and the other two girls continued their discussion of musketeers and scheming cardinals, comparing them to the cowboys they knew. Although they mentioned several names, giggling all the while, not once did they say anything about Nate. Susanna couldn’t imagine why she had even thought about that. Clearly, Maisie was too young to be interested in him, at least romantically.

  Those few moments revealed much to Susanna. While the Colonel was stern to the point of rudeness, his family was more lighthearted. Further, she was glad to see they treated their servants with courtesy. But she guessed that Rosamond, being the only daughter, was a little bit spoiled. Susanna had never failed to go immediately when her parents called. Indeed, she would gladly answer Mama’s summons once again.

  She thrust away the grief that tried to engulf her. She couldn’t go back to those days, and until she could get Daddy back to Marietta, she must learn to live as a pioneer woman, whatever that meant. Although she was about two or three years older than these girls, she would open her heart and let them teach her. And maybe she could teach them something in return.

  * * *

  With Maisie on one side of him and Rosamond on the other, Nate could hardly enjoy his steak for all of their chatter and giggling. In contrast, Susanna sat across from him eating her supper with the grace of a duchess. Funny, that was the second time he’d thought of her in that way, yet he’d never even met a duchess. He must have read about one in a book. The thought made him grin. He’d enjoyed their brief chat about books while they were on the trail. Maybe they’d have a chance to do it again.

  Guilt wove through him. The Colonel would probably do all he could to keep Nate away from Susanna. He glanced toward the end of the table. His father, watching him with an inscrutable look, bent his head toward Maisie. Nate groaned inwardly. She was a sweet little gal, but still just a child, despite being almost eighteen. How could the Colonel think she was ready for marriage? In Nate’s opinion, the way she and Rosamond acted was just plain silly, something that had never bothered him before, but now got on his nerves.