Cowboy to the Rescue

by Louise M. Gouge

  “No, sir.” Susanna held back a laugh. My, he looked indignant—a good sign his old self was returning. “But don’t tell me you did all this yourself.” She waved a hand over his clean presence.

  “When Miss Angela saw the task was bigger than she’d thought, that cowboy Zack brought up the tub and water, then helped me.” He went on to explain how the process had wearied him, and he’d slept most of the day.

  Susanna barely heard the rest of his remarks. Miss Angela? Since when did a servant merit that courtesy title used in the South?

  Voices and footsteps down the hall indicated Rosamond and Maisie had come upstairs, and Susanna glanced toward the door. Maybe she should offer to help with supper.

  Daddy patted her hand. “You go on, daughter. I know you want to be with your new friends. I’ll be fine.”

  “All right, dearest. You rest now.” She bent down to kiss him and caught a whiff of a woody cologne. Seemed Zack and Miss Angela had made an extra effort in their care of Daddy. That wouldn’t entirely make up for the Colonel’s attitude, but it surely would make things easier as long as they had to stay here.

  The girls were busy combing out tangles from their freshly washed hair, but rather than stay and chat, Susanna felt compelled to go downstairs and see if she could help with supper. Perhaps if she made herself useful, the Colonel wouldn’t object so much to Daddy’s recuperating in his home.

  Two steps before she reached the landing where the back staircase made a right turn, she stopped at the sound of the Colonel’s voice just below.

  “Monday morning, when Mrs. Northam is away visiting, you slip away just like we planned. I’ve made all the arrangements for you to ride one of the horses.” His soft tone held an unmistakable note of affection.

  “Sí, Señor Colonel.” Rita’s voice!

  A sick feeling churned in Susanna’s stomach. What kind of wickedness was this? Obviously, this man did not hold the same moral convictions as Daddy regarding female servants. And to think this girl was younger than his own children. What would poor Angela think if she knew her employer had designs on her daughter?

  Hearing Rita’s light footfalls ascending the steps, Susanna backed up as quietly as she could and hurried through the hallway to descend the front staircase. To her chagrin, on her way down the center hall to the kitchen, she encountered the Colonel. Fighting the urge to back up against the wall to let him pass, fighting the urge to tell him what she thought of his character, she forced a smile Mama and Mrs. Sweetwater would have been proud of.

  “Good evening, Colonel Northam. Did you have a chance to see the columbines we planted?”

  Instead of bowing politely as any Southern gentleman would, he stopped short and stared at her as if trying to remember who she was. A scowl quickly replaced his confusion. “I trust your father will be back on his feet soon.” It sounded more like an order than a friendly inquiry.

  “Never you mind, Colonel.” Susanna put on her sweetest voice. He might not be a gentleman, but she was still a lady. “Once he can walk, we’ll be out of your house faster than a jackrabbit running from a coyote. You can count on that.” She punctuated her words with a perky smile, picturing him as that coyote she’d shot out in Kansas. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should go peel some potatoes or something.”

  She brushed past him and made her way to the kitchen. While the welcome Mrs. Northam and Angela gave her didn’t entirely make up for his inhospitable behavior, it went a long way to soothing her disquieted soul.

  * * *

  “Did you get their names?” The Colonel sat behind his desk grilling Nate about the Indian encounter. At least this time, he didn’t stand in his usual intimidating way.

  “No, sir. The only name mentioned was yours, and they took off as soon as I said it.” Flattery had never worked with the Colonel, and it didn’t this time, either.

  “Humph.” He brushed away the idea as one would a bothersome fly. “I doubt they meant any harm. But just to be sure they don’t come up here again, I’ll send a message to the commandant over at Fort Garland.” He waved a hand toward a chair, wordlessly ordering Nate to sit. “Now, about that china. On Monday morning, your mother and Rosamond are driving up to Swede Lane to deliver some food to those folks during their convalescence. That’s when I want you to check for any broken pieces. You think you can get it done in a few hours?”

  “Yessir.” Nate started to say Susanna could help him, but it probably would be best just to have her do it and tell him later.

  “You be careful with it.”

  “Yessir.” In spite of his resolve not to get angry at his father, Nate felt heat rising up his neck. “Of course I’m careful with Mother’s gift.”

  The Colonel sent him a scowl. “After that, you can work on the addition.” He grunted in his usual dissatisfied way. “That carpenter from Denver had better show up to complete the woodwork.” He seemed to be speaking to himself, as if making a mental list of all the things that needed to be finished before the anniversary party. “All right, you can go.” Again he waved his hand, this time in a dismissive gesture toward the door. “And check on that Anders fellow. Make sure he’s not faking his injuries so he can loaf around here at my expense.”

  “Yessir.” Nate stood and stretched. It had been a long, tiring day, especially coming right after his trip to Pueblo. These were the times when it was hardest not to respond to his father in anger. “He could be faking the broken ribs, but it’s kind of hard to fake a broken leg.” He hurried from the room before his father could holler at him for talking back.

  One thing was sure. His stomach was hollering at him right now. Drawn by the mouthwatering aroma of Angela’s chili, he ambled down the hall to the kitchen to see if he could find something to hold him until supper. When he opened the door, Susanna’s lovely face was the first thing he saw, and his heart skipped. What was the matter with him? It hadn’t been two hours since they parted company to go clean up, yet he felt as if he’d been away from her for two days. And that was just short of how long he’d known her. The smile she gave him seemed a little strained. If the Colonel did something to hurt her feelings, he’d go right back to the office and give him what for.

  “Nathaniel.” Mother looked up from her work over a large crockery bowl. “Just the man I wanted to see. Come over here and stir this cookie dough. It’s so stiff I can’t manage to blend all the ingredients together.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He grabbed the wooden spoon and took a turn at mixing the heavy dough, which contained candied fruit, nuts, spices and molasses. “You know I’ll do anything to have some of my favorite cookies.” Once he’d blended everything to Mother’s satisfaction, he pinched off a piece of the dark brown substance and popped it into his mouth. “Mmm. Just right.”

  “You’d better leave some for baking.” Mother sprinkled a little flour on the kitchen table, then spooned out a chunk of dough and began to flatten it with her rolling pin. “This recipe has to go a long way if all the hands are going to get some.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Turning a chair around and straddling it, he propped his chin on his hands to watch Susanna cut carrots and other vegetables. This was where they’d started the day some twelve hours ago, yet she still had enough energy and the good manners to help in the kitchen. That spoke well of her. So much for the Colonel’s talk of lazy Southerners.

  “May I help you do that?” He hoped she’d give him one of those la-di-da answers he found so appealing.

  Instead, she shook her head and gave him a tight smile. “No, thank you. I believe I can manage.” She scooped up the vegetables and set them in a bowl, then carried it to Angela, who was stirring the chili in a large cast-iron pot on the stove. “Is there anything else I can do? I could start washing those dishes.” She nodded toward a collection of items by the dishpan.

  “No, gracias, señorita. That is Rita’s r
esponsibility. She will do it soon.” She put the vegetables in a pot, then moved to the side table and began to assemble the ingredients for tortillas.

  Watching the ladies cook had always been one of Nate’s favorite pastimes, but usually he was busy with his own chores at this time of day. He noticed the disappointment on Susanna’s face when Angela refused her offer, and tried to think of some way to divert her.

  As if reading his mind, she glanced in his direction, and he felt the little jolt in his chest that was getting all too familiar.

  “If it’s not too much bother,” she said to Angela, “could you teach me how to make tortillas?”

  “Sí, señorita.” Always accommodating, Angela made room on the table for Susanna to work beside her and began her instructions.

  Susanna’s persistence in wanting to help deepened Nate’s admiration for her. He glanced toward Mother, hoping she would appreciate their guest’s good manners, too, and found her watching him. The sly smile on her face cut short his enjoyment of the moment. He frowned and shook his head, but her smile merely broadened. He wanted her to like Susanna to make up for the Colonel’s rudeness, but he didn’t need her to play matchmaker.

  He stood and headed for the back hallway. “Guess I’ll go check on those columbines.”

  Mother chuckled. “You do that, son.”

  Susanna said nothing. Didn’t even look his way. Nate was surprised at how disappointed that made him.

  * * *

  Susanna tried to concentrate on Angela’s instructions, but Nate’s presence made it impossible. She was glad when he left. No, not glad at all. Just plain sad. In any other time or place, regarding any Southern gentleman with the same depth of character, she could let her heart lead her. But here and now, these feelings just would not do. Even if she and Nate did fall in love, they had no future together. But she mustn’t even entertain the word if. She would not love this man. Would not! To distract herself, she pictured the house in Marietta she loved so much and her dreams of having her own children growing up and playing on that same grassy lawn, as she and Edward Jr. used to do. She must never lose sight of those dreams.

  “No, no, Miss Susanna, too much water.” Angela laughed as she reached over to add more finely ground cornmeal to the bowl she’d given Susanna. “Make the dough like this.” She held up a round lump that appeared pliable enough to flatten without falling apart.

  “Oh, dear.” That was what she got for not paying attention. “Have I ruined it?”

  “Do not worry, Miss Susanna.” Rita had entered the room moments ago and begun washing the dishes. “I still cannot make tortillas like madre mia.” She reached to place a glass jar in the rinse pan, but it slipped from her fingers and crashed to the floor. “Oh, no.”

  “Be careful,” Angela and Mrs. Northam chorused.

  Rita grabbed for the shattered jar too quickly, then gasped and pulled back her hand. Trying not to cry, she gripped her injured palm with the other hand, but blood seeped through her fingers. “Mama,” she whimpered.

  With a worried gaze on her daughter, Angela rinsed her hands, while Mrs. Northam left her cookie-making to come help. Susanna waited until they moved to the center table to tend the wound before finding a broom to sweep up the shards. She could not help but wonder how this would affect the poor girl’s assignation with Colonel Northam.

  She soon found out. Once the hand was bandaged, they all went to work again and within a half hour had supper ready. As Susanna and Rita set plates and silverware around the table, the Colonel entered the room, spied the wounded hand and demanded to know what happened. After hearing Rita’s explanation, he summoned Angela and Mrs. Northam.

  “This child is not to wash dishes again. Is that clear?” Both women appeared surprised by the vehemence of his order, but both agreed to obey him.

  But Susanna wasn’t the least bit surprised. The Colonel would likely do anything to protect the girl who was the object of his favor.

  Chapter Ten

  The moment Reverend Thomas opened his mouth to speak, Susanna felt as if she’d come home. His Southern pronunciations varied slightly from hers and Daddy’s, but it was clear the man was no Yankee. She couldn’t imagine why the Colonel had let this Southerner take such a prominent place in his community, but she expected to enjoy his sermon. Maybe the minister would visit Daddy, who’d insisted that Susanna must attend church with the Northams.

  After a few words of welcome to Susanna and two other visitors, Reverend Thomas announced the Scripture verses he would address in his sermon. Seated beside Susanna, Nate held his Bible up so she could look on, just as he had the hymnbook at the beginning of the service. When they’d begun singing, she could barely hold back a giggle. Nate was no singer, but what he lacked in pitch, he made up for in enthusiasm. From the light in his eyes as he sang “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross,” she could see that he held deeply the faith he’d spoken about on the trail. She might as well admit, if only to herself, that a Yankee could be a true and decent Christian, despite what his people did to the South during the war. Despite what his father said in the back hall of their house.

  Before they’d left the ranch, Nate had gone out of his way to make sure she was comfortable in the family carriage with Mrs. Northam, Rosamond and Maisie. Everything he did prompted warm sentiments in Susanna’s heart. Somehow she must find a way to cool that warmth before it blazed up and burned her.

  She quieted her thoughts and settled back to enjoy the sermon. The verses they’d just read in Hebrews 11 might be the very thing to help her. All those Bible folks had acted in faith in the midst of serious difficulties, and most had suffered terribly for it. While staying in the home of a Yankee colonel wasn’t exactly perilous, spending time with the man’s son could well be dangerous to her heart.

  As it turned out, the minister focused his message on the faith these congregants had in building this new community in such a harsh land. In faith, they had all left their comfortable homes back east at the invitation of Colonel Northam. His purpose? To build a Christian community where all would be welcomed with the love of Christ.

  The moment the pastor mentioned the Colonel and the Lord in the same sentence, Susanna stopped listening as Rita’s sweet, innocent face came to mind. Oh, the deeds done in secret! Wasn’t there a passage of Scripture about how those deeds would be brought to light? If it wouldn’t cause a scene, she’d grab Nate’s Bible and hunt that verse right here and now.

  * * *

  Figuring he should dodge Mother’s matchmaking efforts outside of church, Nate didn’t mind when she put him next to Susanna in the pew. Susanna was wearing Rosamond’s Sunday dress from last summer, so he would just think of her as a sister.

  Who was he fooling? No man in his right mind could lightly dismiss the effects this beautiful lady had on him. When she’d worn that blue dress yesterday afternoon, her eyes had sparkled like the rare gems in Mother’s sapphire necklace. And now in this frilly pink gown, her ivory complexion glowed like one of Mother’s alabaster vases, the ones painted with roses like the soft blush on Susanna’s fair cheeks. How had she managed to cross the entire continent without turning brown? Or freckled like Maisie. Maisie, whom the Colonel had seated on Nate’s other side.

  He forced his thoughts away from his woman troubles and tried to concentrate on Reverend Thomas’s sermon. Faith. That was what he needed. Faith that the Lord would continue to build this community. Faith that in spite of the Colonel’s domineering ways, Nate could stay and make a contribution worthy of the Northam name. Faith that one day he would earn his father’s approval.

  With that thought, his spirits sank. The only way for him to get the Colonel’s approval would be to become Rand. And there at the other end of the pew sat his middle brother, dozing after his late-night doing who knew what with Seamus and Wes, two of the Northam cowhands. They’d probably been gambling, something
the Colonel had made clear he wouldn’t permit in his community. Yet he refused to come down hard on Rand when he did it.

  The familiar resentment against his brother crowded out Nate’s attempts at worship. Yes, those Bible heroes had great faith, but right now, he just wasn’t up to joining their ranks.

  After the sermon, Nate listened halfheartedly to the announcements. The fever that had spread through the Swedish community was now under control, thanks to Charlie Williams and his herbal remedies learned from the Indians. With the plan Mother already had in place, meals would be delivered to those folks until they could stand on their own feet again. Finally, Reverend Thomas commended the congregation for their donations to the charity fund, for several needy families had been helped.

  As usual, the congregants lingered in the churchyard, chatting and catching up on news and innocent gossip. Then hunger sent them scattering to their respective homes. The Northams parted company with Maisie with a promise to send Rosamond for a return visit in a few weeks.

  Nate couldn’t help but notice that Susanna had been very quiet. Other than brief chats with Pam Williams and Reverend Thomas, she had stood by the carriage waiting to go home.

  Except she didn’t have a home. And Nate didn’t have one of his own to offer her.

  * * *

  Susanna spent part of Sunday afternoon reading to Daddy and the remainder of the day alone in Rosamond’s room. The Northams took the Sabbath seriously, resting after church just as her family had back home in Marietta, so no one came looking for her. She’d wanted to take Daddy out into the sunshine, but he wouldn’t be able to go down the long staircase for some time. An upstairs veranda opened out from Colonel and Mrs. Northam’s suite, but she wouldn’t go anywhere near that end of the upstairs hallway.

  Rosamond had told her that even Sunday supper was quiet and simple, with Angela and Rita away visiting family in a small Spanish settlement to the southeast. Susanna wondered if Rita would find a confidante, maybe a grandmother to whom she could expose the Colonel’s reprehensible behavior. Obviously, she had not been able to tell her mother, probably because she feared they would lose their employment.