Cowboy Pride

by Lacy Williams

  "The dance was Nathan's doing."

  She winked as he handed her the coffee mug. "I imagined as much."

  She was the one who'd suggested Nathan look into the Parrott's old ranch in the first place. She knew the area, and she'd grown up on their parents' ranch, so she knew what was needed to raise cattle and crops. Having both her and Nathan in Calvin would give him ample excuses to visit them both.

  She sipped her coffee. "I'm scouting for a pair of lost young women. One of them was supposed to visit here yesterday, but neither returned home last night. Their parents are understandably worried."

  "They're here," Rob said.

  Danna's brows rose slightly. "I saw the bridge washed out. Had to ride almost a mile out of the way to find a crossing."

  "Janie Bennett was on the bridge when it was swept away."

  "What?" Her cup clattered to the counter. "Is she—?"

  "Nathan fished her out of the creek. Those heavy skirts…” He shook his head, remembering how Janie’s head had slipped beneath the water. “She nearly drowned."

  Danna shook her head. She often wore trousers in her job as town marshal, but she’d worn enough skirts to understand the danger.

  "We roused her, but she'd dislocated one shoulder and taken in quite a bit of water. She started feverin' in the night. Liza sat up with her all night. Doing mustard plasters."

  “Liza?” Danna cast a curious gaze.

  He turned away, conflicted in his feelings for the pretty Liza and not wanting Danna to see. His sister was sharper than a newly-forged blade.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, heat flaring there. "She was following her sister, and after Janie's rescue, she insisted on staying here. Both horses are in the barn. Fed and sheltered."

  "Of course," Danna murmured.

  His sister wasn't a murmurer, and he turned a sharp gaze on her. Her eyes were wide and innocent—and she must have some techniques for making a suspect talk, because he found himself wanting to spill all his muddled feelings.

  He clamped his lips closed instead.

  "With the bridge out and another storm on the horizon,” he said instead, “we can't exactly load the pair of them in a wagon and take them to town."

  "Hmm." That suspicious sound carried through a couple of ticks of the grandfather clock before she continued. "I'll take the news back, let their Mama know they'll be delivered when the creek subsides."

  He nodded.

  "Flash flooding usually only lasts a day or two around here," she said.

  He nodded again.

  It was she who broke first. "Oh, Rob. Is Nathan very interested in Janie Bennett? Her mama told me that he'd danced with her five times and that Janie is the best catch in Calvin—something she tells everyone who comes in her shop."

  Not surprising, given what he'd heard that first day in town.

  Rob shrugged. He had some idea how Nate felt, but that was his friend's business. "She's barely been conscious."

  Danna fiddled with her cup. "Just tell him to be careful. If anyone can snare a man, it's Maude Bennett."

  Her words were a douse of icy water. She'd touched on the one thing that would be a sore point for Nate. And Rob needed to remember what his friend had been through. Protect Nate, if possible. It's what he'd come down for.

  "And what of you?" Danna asked. "Have you been caught by Janie's pretty sister?" Her laugh seemed to indicate she thought it highly unlikely.

  He might've been insulted, if she didn't know him so well.

  "I'm a confirmed bachelor. Much more difficult to catch than the jovial Nathan." But for the first time, the words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  "Yes, I remember."

  And her teasing only made him conscious of the reason she'd left him to marry Fred Carpenter at sixteen. She'd nearly died because of Rob.

  He wasn't gentle enough for a woman. Didn't mince words, didn't know how to give them the softness they needed. He couldn't coddle someone when there were numerous jobs to keep the spread running, keep the animals healthy and put food on the table.

  Danna looked around. "Maybe it's just as well. I'm not sure those town gals would enjoy living on a ranch, anyway. It's isolated and probably more work than they're used to at their father's shop."

  She was right. Of course she was. His ranch—and Nathan's—were no place for either of the pretty Bennett daughters.

  * * *

  Liza woke to the crow of a rooster, but upon glancing out the window, the reddish cast to the sky confused her. It must be mid-morning, but another storm was brewing on the horizon, the clouds giving the sky a strange hue.

  Mindy was nowhere to be seen. The girl had only rolled over with a mumble when Liza had climbed into bed a couple of hours before dawn, after Nathan had sent her away from Janie's bedside.

  With a few hours of rest, she could see he'd been right. She'd been so exhausted she might've set the house on fire if she'd tried to make one more plaster.

  She needed to check on Janie.

  She splashed her face in the water basin and did what she could with her hair. She'd left her pins in Janie's room, so she made a simple braid down her back and tied it off with a snippet of ribbon she’d left in her dress pocket. Were Mama and Papa worried for them? Had a search party been sent from town? With the creek flooded, it would be a long ride for anyone who came after them.

  The looking glass above the dresser showed weary lines around her eyes. Her rumpled, creek-stained dress desperately needed a wash and iron, but there was no help for it now. She attempted to pinch some color into her cheeks and went in search of her sister.

  From the hallway, she cracked Janie's door to find her sister sleeping and Nathan absent. Liza didn't go in, didn't want to disturb her. She listened in the doorway for a long time. Janie seemed to be breathing easier, and Liza had to blink back tears of relief. She would apply another plaster when her sister woke and hope that the mustard paste would draw the last of the muddy water from Janie's lungs.

  How would they get home? Even if the creek had subsided, another storm was on the way. Surely they couldn't rely on the Bingleys' hospitality much longer.

  Downstairs, she found Mindy curled in the corner of the settee, reading.

  Liza wrinkled her nose. The girl was useless, but someone was cooking. She smelled... biscuits? And ham, if she wasn't mistaken.

  Mindy was plenty old enough to be preparing a meal. But if she was in here, who was in the kitchen?

  She entered and found Rob at the stove. He was in his sock feet, as if he were at home. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing muscled forearms, and he'd tossed a towel over his shoulder. He was using a fork to stir roux in a cast iron pan. Platters on the counter beside him were loaded with biscuits and ham. It sat alongside a bowl heaped with scrambled eggs.

  He glanced at her briefly. "Good, you're awake. It's more lunch than breakfast, but it'll be ready in a few minutes."

  She stood and stared.

  "You... cooked?"

  He shot a wry smile over his shoulder. "I've been a bachelor a very long time. Plus, you wouldn't have wanted to eat Mindy's food."

  Liza heard a pouty sniff from the parlor behind her, but when she glanced over her shoulder, Mindy still had her nose buried in her book.

  Nathan banged in the kitchen door and hung his hat on a peg. "Smells good, old man." He caught sight of Liza as he headed for the wash basin. "Mornin'."

  "Good morning. Thank you for sitting with Janie. I peeked in on her, and she seems to be breathing easier."

  Nathan nodded, and open relief crossed his face before he bent to douse it with water.

  Rob reached for a bowl on the counter, probably ready to pour out the gravy that smelled so good her mouth was watering.

  "I'll take these." Liza reached for the eggs and the platter of ham and carried them to the dining table.

  Mindy roused herself to come and sit at the table, though there were still table settings to be made.

  Liza couldn't he
lp the raise of her brows as she returned to the kitchen.

  Rob noticed, and a smile twitched his lips. "Don't ask," he whispered.

  Nathan's head turned from where he was taking down plates from an upper cabinet.

  She went to him and held out both hands. "What am I not supposed to ask about?"

  Nathan placed two plates in her hands and reached for a third. "Mindy."

  "Ah."

  "I just want to go back to finishing school," Mindy said petulantly from the table.

  "They don't teach setting a table at that kind of school?" Liza asked. She couldn't help it.

  Nathan winked as he stacked forks and knives on top of the plates Liza held. "Not for setting a ranch table."

  Liza took the plates and silverware to the table and began setting each place. Rob brought the bowl of gravy and the plate of biscuits to the table, and it seemed almost natural to duck around him as she moved to the next place. A dance, almost, like the one he hadn't asked her for.

  It discomfited her, and she looked for a quick distraction. "You don't like the ranch?" she asked Mindy.

  "I prefer the city," the young woman said stiffly. "When my parents died, I was forced to leave my friends, my life behind. I invited your sister to tea because I thought she’d provide some bearable company. And see how well that’s turned out."

  Liza would’ve taken offense at Mindy’s bitter words about Janie, but she couldn’t help feeling compassion for such an ordeal. Not that it was an excuse for Mindy’s behavior.

  "I'm sorry for your loss," she said.

  Nathan joined them at the table, his mouth tight. He'd lost his family, too. She couldn't help reaching out to touch his arm. "And yours."

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. "I lost my mother when I was sixteen."

  But Mindy had said—

  "I never met my father."

  Oh.

  Across the table, Rob sat, silent and serious.

  Mindy's face crumpled. "You shouldn't punish me because of what Papa did to you!"

  In the shocked silence that followed her outburst, Mindy ran from the room and up the stairs. Moments later, her bedroom door slammed, the sound reverberating through the house.

  "I told you not to ask." Rob reached for a biscuit, splitting it and adding both pieces to his plate.

  "I'm sorry," Nathan said. "Please excuse my sister's behavior."

  "I'm sorry that I touched a nerve," she said. "I didn't realize..." With all the gossip in town about the Bingleys, Nathan's parentage hadn't come up once. Not that it was anyone's business but his own.

  Nathan kept his focus on his own plate. "It has been a difficult six months. With Mindy."

  "No doubt. My own sisters, my younger sisters, often drive me to distraction."

  His head came up, and she smiled at him. "It can't last forever, can it?" she asked.

  He returned her smile. "Let's hope not."

  She didn't dare look at Rob, but she felt his stare anyway.

  Chapter 8

  Knock, knock.

  Liza must've dozed off in the chair beside Janie's bed. She roused now as Nathan's head popped in the door.

  Janie was sitting up in bed, and twin roses of color appeared on her cheeks. She carefully smoothed the quilt over her legs.

  "How is our patient, nurse?" he teased Liza.

  "Her cough is a little better, I think."

  Janie brushed at a few strands of hair that had come loose from the braid down her back. "Liza's plasters have worked miracles. I'm much improved, Mr.—I-I mean, Nathan. Ready to go home."

  "We can't—"

  "There's a storm—"

  Liza and Nathan spoke at the same time, both cut off by a rumble of thunder.

  "I rode out to the creek this morning, and it's still too high to haul a wagon across," Nathan said. "If the storm today brings more rain, you may be stuck with my company for another day or two. Such that it is."

  "Your company is fine," Janie said softly. "Very fine."

  Nathan lit up, though Janie was looking down at her lap and didn't see it.

  "I brought something to help you pass the time." He stepped into the room and offered Janie a hard-bound book.

  She took it, mumbling her thanks to her lap. He watched her for a long moment and then took his leave.

  Just yesterday morning, Janie had been lost in daydreams—Liza had thought those daydreams were about Nathan. But today she picked at the quilt, her discomfort obvious.

  Was she embarrassed? Or had her feelings for Nathan changed?

  "That was kind," Liza said carefully.

  "Mm-hmm."

  Liza was used to Janie's shyness, but her sister's attitude this morning was something... more than that.

  "Perhaps this evening you'll feel up to joining the Bingleys for supper. It would be a shame to be stuck out here and not get to know Nathan better."

  After discovering that he'd taken in his sister and witnessing his patience with the recalcitrant teen firsthand, Liza was more certain than ever that Nathan was an upstanding man. He could be a good match for the tenderhearted Janie.

  Janie ran one finger over the cover of the book in her lap. "You sound like Mama."

  Liza wrinkled her nose. "Never." She stood and moved to the window, flicking the curtain. The storm hadn't broken yet, though wind buffeted the house. Clouds rolled through the sickly gray sky. "If you're worried that Nathan is like Albert, he—"

  Janie gasped slightly, cutting her off. "Liza. Your hands."

  She looked down, saw what Janie had seen. Flexed her fingers, which were chapped and red from repeating the mustard plasters.

  "It's nothing." Janie's health was worth the discomfort.

  A streak of lightning split the sky with white, making Liza blink against the temporary blindness. Thunder shook the house.

  That had been close.

  Janie fidgeted beneath her blanket. "I don't wish to talk about Albert. Ever."

  Liza knew he'd betrayed Janie and broken her heart, but that didn't mean Janie should keep her heart shut away.

  Earlier they'd cracked the window to allow in a breath of cool air, and now Liza scented the barest hint of smoke.

  Had the house been hit by lightning? Urgency surged, her heart pounding against her breastbone. She couldn't see anything amiss from here, just fields dotted with cattle.

  But the smell didn't dissipate. Something had caught fire. Was it the other side of the house? A tree?

  She sent a glance to Janie and decided she couldn't risk it. "We must go downstairs. I smell smoke."

  Janie gestured to the nightgown and wrap she wore. "I can't go down like this."

  "If the house is on fire, there's no time to dress."

  Janie protested again, but Liza cut her off. "Downstairs. Now."

  Janie was slow on the stairs, once dissolving into a fit of coughing, and Liza had to bite back words when she would rush her.

  They crossed toward the parlor, and out this window, Liza had a view of the barn. Where a curl of smoke rose from the roof.

  "The barn's on fire."

  Mindy looked up from a needlework project she was poring over.

  Janie let out a small gasp. "Oh, no."

  The men were nowhere in sight. Already outside?

  Liza turned her most serious look on her sister. She pointed a finger at the sofa. "Sit down and stay here. Your lungs cannot do battle with smoke today."

  Janie looked torn, but Liza narrowed her eyes, and her sister perched on the edge of the sofa.

  Next Liza pointed her finger at Mindy. "Come with me."

  The girl let out a squeak of what might be protest. But there was no time for arguing, so Liza grasped her arm and pulled her to her feet.

  Mindy might be a spoiled city girl, but Nathan needed help. Now.

  "If the barn is destroyed, your brother will lose his stock and supplies for the winter. You must help." She dragged the girl across the threshold and out onto the porch.

  The sce
nt of smoke was stronger outdoors. She caught sight of Rob rounding the barn just before he disappeared from sight. Nate was heading into the barn through open double doors.

  "The grass is still damp from yesterday's rain," she said for Mindy's benefit. "But if the hay in the barn catches fire, the entire structure could be lost."

  Mindy was wide-eyed, but there wasn't time for her hysterics.

  "You don't have to go near the fire," she told the other girl. "But you can pump water."

  She tucked her arm through the crook of Mindy's elbow. If they had been friends, attending a tea or dance, the move would have felt entirely natural. The fire made it necessary.

  "What about the neighbors?" Mindy cried.

  "They won't make it in time."

  She dragged Mindy to the horse trough and shoved her toward the pump handle. Mindy looked at her askance, and Liza primed it and got the first gushes of water flowing.

  "Don't stop," she told the girl.

  Buckets.

  When she turned to the barn, Nate was already running toward the trough, his arms full of feed buckets.

  "The horses," he gasped as she passed.

  She ran into the barn, where smoke was beginning to curl beneath the loft, thick enough to send her into a coughing spasm. A crackling sound and intense heat from overhead meant it was likely too late to save the hay. Was it too late for the structure as well?

  In the stalls, six or seven horses paced and turned, including Buckles and Harvey, Janie and Liza’s mounts. They were all agitated. One whinnied, the sound an echo of the panic rising in Liza.

  She moved to the first stall and lugged away the two heavy boards that blocked the horse from escaping. As soon as it could, the horse bolted, hooves pounding against the packed dirt floor before it fled outside.

  She let two more horses out before a coughing fit made her bend at the waist. Precious seconds were lost while she caught her breath. Each inhale was laborious.

  A man appeared in the doorway as she worked to release a large black gelding. The horse was crazed with fear, its eyes rolling and its front hooves pounding the dirt.

  She was still pulling the stall board out of the way when the horse bolted. Its shoulder knocked into the wood with enough force to knock her backwards. She landed hard on her rump.