Nate snorted. The gambler’s eternal trap. Quickly forget the loss and believe he’d win the next time. “Say, little brother.” He gripped Rand’s shoulder. “There’s a lot of pretty young ladies inside without partners. Why not join the dancing?” Never mind that the cowboys actually outnumbered the ladies. If he could get his brother to his feet, he could smell his breath for liquor.
“Maybe you’re right.” Rand stood and shoved the coin back into his pocket, blowing out a long sigh. “Sorry, boys. This just isn’t my night.”
Relief, not the stink of liquor, almost knocked Nate over. Here he’d expected the worst, but all he could smell on Rand was lemonade and sweat. Not that gambling wasn’t pure evil, but he’d tackle one of his brother’s faults at a time.
* * *
While the Colonel drove, Mrs. Northam next to him on the driver’s bench, Susanna sat beside Nate on a cushion in the back of the wagon as they wended their way home. Above them, thousands of stars sparkled against the black sky, while the moon was only a sliver of light. To keep the wagon safely on the rough road, Seamus and Wes rode ahead with lanterns held high. On the other side of the wagon bed, Tolley slept against Rosamond’s shoulder while Rand shuffled a deck of cards.
After Nate had enticed his brother back inside the Eberlys’ barn, he’d watched over him, as Edward had always watched over Susanna. She could see his affection for Rand and his worry about his bad habits. She didn’t know why she was surprised to see such fraternal concern in a Yankee family. She supposed it was from a lifetime of prejudices being poured into her. As each day passed, she was learning that many of those prejudices were groundless when it came to a man like Nate. Now, his father was an entirely different story. The Colonel reinforced every one of her opinions about the North.
“Did you like the fireworks?” Nate leaned toward her to whisper, probably to keep his father from hearing him. As it was, a strong breeze blew from the east, so she doubted his words would reach the front bench. That didn’t keep Nate’s warm breath from sending a pleasant shiver down her spine.
“Yes, I did. They were a bit loud, but it was exciting to see the sky all lit up like that.” Susanna felt a great deal of satisfaction over participating in the barn raising, but she almost hadn’t been able to come. The Colonel hadn’t been pleased to see her approach the wagon early this morning, but Mrs. Northam’s gracious insistence that Susanna was needed to help the womenfolk had won out over her husband’s objections. So naturally, every time Susanna turned around today, the Colonel was scowling at her. Didn’t he have anything better to do?
“Did you have Independence Day fireworks back home?” As soon as Nate asked the question, he leaned back and seemed to frown, although she couldn’t quite be sure in the dark.
How could she answer? Due to the war, many folks back home wanted no part in celebrating the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Others insisted the South had as much right to claim that great document as the North because it had set all of the former colonies free from England.
“Some.” Daddy always hated the fireworks because they reminded him of being in the thick of battle. Every time a cannon thundered or a rocket exploded, he ducked, then got embarrassed. But Susanna couldn’t very well say that to Nate. Although it could be her imagination, they both seemed to avoid talking about the war.
Nate nodded as if he understood her brief answer. “Well, I know one thing.” His voice took on the teasing tone she loved so much. “You may have attended only one ball in your short life, but you did manage to learn how to dance fairly well. Why, you almost kept up with me.”
Rosamond snickered. “Say, Nate, did you ever get around to dancing with Maisie?”
He didn’t even look at his sister. “Who?” He leaned close to Susanna again, and his breath smelled of sugar and pecans. So he’d eaten that last praline she’d tucked away for a bedtime snack. He must like them as much as he’d claimed. “You hardly missed a dance. I’ll be surprised if you can even walk tomorrow.”
Maybe it was that sliver of moonlight shining in his green eyes. Maybe she was just too tired. But for some reason, Susanna couldn’t think of a single sassy reply. She could only smile up at him and wish with all her heart he would kiss her.
“Go ahead, Nate.” Rosamond stretched out her foot and kicked his boot. “Kiss her.”
Susanna gasped softly as both she and Nate pulled away from each other and shot worried glances toward the Colonel.
Across the wagon, Rand and Rosamond laughed softly as if they were in on a great secret. A secret Susanna refused to admit to herself. She would not fall in love with Nate Northam. She would not!
Chapter Seventeen
“You can’t take a girl for granted like that or some other man will snatch her up before you get your head on straight.” The Colonel leaned back in his desk chair and eyed Nate. “Last night Maisie got all gussied up to show you how much she’s grown up, and you didn’t ask her to dance even once.”
Nate couldn’t remember the last time his father had invited him to sit on one of the expensive leather chairs in front of this desk, and he knew better than to sit without an invitation. That thought and his aching feet and back from yesterday’s activities made him more than a little irritable.
“She seemed to be doing all right without me.” He tried to keep the crossness out of his voice but could hear it nonetheless. “Your Doc Henshaw took to her right away.” That wasn’t the smartest thing to say.
The Colonel snorted. “John was just being polite because it was her birthday. He danced with Rosamond, too, and they make a fine-looking couple.”
“You think so?” Nate couldn’t keep the challenge from his voice.
“Yes, Mr. Knows-It-All, I think so.” His father stood and leaned forward with his knuckles on his desk, as he always did when he was about to give orders. “You think I didn’t notice you hanging all over that Anders girl? And her looking at you all moon-eyed? She’s not our sort, Nathaniel, and you would do well to remember that. I don’t want to see you spending any more time with her. Is that understood?”
“What—” His father hadn’t taken a minute to get acquainted with Susanna. How could he know what sort she was?
“Seems to me that lazy father of hers has had enough time to get back on his feet. You go upstairs this morning and tell him I want them gone as soon as he can put one foot in front of the other.”
“But—” Nate’s head felt as if it would explode. He would not send an injured man out to fend for himself with only his daughter to take care of him. If Mr. Anders and Susanna had to leave, Nate would go with them.
“And as soon as you do that, ride out and check the south fence again. George says somebody tried to break through a section of his fencing, so we may have some cattle rustlers trying to get in.” The anger in the Colonel’s tone sounded as if it was directed more at Nate than any rustlers.
“No, sir.” Nate’s right hand fisted almost as if it had a mind of its own. He needed to get out of this room before he did something he would regret for the rest of his life.
“What?” The Colonel’s eyes blazed. “What did you say to me?”
“I said ‘no, sir.’ If you want to throw Mr. Anders and Susanna out, you’ll do your own dirty work. If you want somebody to check that south fence, tell Rand to do it. He could do with having some responsibility around here.”
“Now, you see here, boy.” He thumped his fist on the desk.
“No.” Nate shook from head to toe. “You see my back walking out the door.” He spun around and strode from the room, with every step fighting the urge to go back and strike his father.
Snatching his hat from the front hall tree, he rushed down the center hallway toward the back door, ignoring Mother’s call from the kitchen as he passed by. No one needed to see him like this. No one needed to hear the thoughts ra
cing through his mind. Anger hardly seemed a strong enough word to describe his feelings. Rage, that was what it was.
Before he knew how he got there, he was on Victor and they were tearing up the road faster and harder than he’d ever ridden his stallion. With no idea where he was going, he just knew something in his life had to give way, had to break, or he wouldn’t be able to go on.
At last his mount’s labored breathing reached his awareness, and he gently tugged the reins, slowing Victor to a walk. The animal wheezed and snorted, tossing his head as if to ask what that had been all about.
“Sorry, boy.” How foolish to punish Victor for his father’s insufficiencies. Victor wasn’t just any horse. He would sire Nate’s string of cow ponies once he had his own place.
If he ever had his own place. Maybe after today the Colonel would disown him. In fact, maybe that would be best. One thing was certain. Nate needed to find a better way to deal with his anger before he did some real damage to some innocent person or beast. Riding a valuable horse into the ground was about the dumbest thing he’d ever done in his life. He’d always known that this strain of cow ponies wasn’t bred for long, hard rides.
What would happen if he came right out and defied the Colonel, not just in the privacy of his office, but in front of everybody? Maybe his father was just waiting for him to do that. And what on earth had he meant by Mr. Knows-It-All? What a crazy thing to say.
Defiance, controlled defiance. That was the way to get out from under his father’s thumb. Nate’s first step would be to follow his heart and pursue a deeper relationship with Susanna. If everybody thought they were courting, so be it.
* * *
Anytime Susanna found herself in the kitchen with Mrs. Northam and Rosamond, she savored the easy camaraderie among them. It helped to ease the pain of missing her friends and family back home more than she could have imagined. How could she hate these Yankee ladies who treated her only with kindness? Or dear, warmhearted Angela, whose maternal ways reminded her of her childhood nurse. Did this wise woman know her own daughter rode into the settlement several times a week, days when the Colonel was also gone from the ranch house? If only Susanna could find a way to rescue Rita from his evil clutches. She stifled a sigh so the other ladies would not ask questions about her sudden depression.
Mercy, she’d done it again, dashed her own happy thoughts. She should be thinking about yesterday and how the whole community had come together to build that impressive barn. Should be thinking about dancing with Nate and the way he’d almost kissed her. Or the way she’d hoped he would, then been glad when he hadn’t because of the trouble it could have caused. Oh, how she enjoyed his company. How she wished she were free to love him.
“Susanna, would you mind setting the table?” Mrs. Northam said. “We’ll just be five for the noon meal.”
“Yes, ma’am.” As Susanna removed the mismatched everyday dishes from the cupboard, a happy thought silenced her concerns over eating with the Colonel. In a few weeks, Mrs. Northam would receive her Wedgwood china. What an exciting day that would be. Nate had told her other surprises awaited his mother, but she doubted he knew about the silver spurs for his father. Maybe that fine gift from his wife would shame the Colonel into improving his ways, spur him into good behavior, so to speak.
Chuckling at her own wordplay, she carried the plates and silverware to the dining room and set them around the linen-covered table. The Colonel always sat at the head, Mrs. Northam at the foot by the kitchen door, Rosamond to her left, Nate next to his sister and Susanna across from them. She retrieved freshly pressed linen napkins from the buffet just as the Colonel came through the door. He stared at her with his usual scowl. Her heart seemed to stop beating.
“We’ll be only four at the table for dinner.”
“Yes, sir.” Barely giving him a glance, she put away one napkin and cleared one place setting, then made haste to return to the kitchen. She didn’t need to be told twice that he didn’t want her eating with the family. She, who had once dined with the governor of Georgia and attended balls at a senator’s home, one of those plantation houses General Sherman had failed to burn down on his march to Atlanta.
Even if her own Southern heritage wasn’t an impediment to her falling in love with Nate, the Colonel’s rudeness toward her would always stand in the way of their happiness. She could not, must not surrender to her attraction to Nate.
* * *
Nate gave Victor his head, and the stallion trotted along the lane into the settlement right up to the hitching rail beneath the trees in front of the church.
“Whoa, boy.” Nate leaned down to pat his neck. “This is Friday, not Sunday. What are we doing here?”
“Hello, Nate.” Reverend Thomas came around the building, rolled-up shirtsleeves and dusty trousers indicating he’d been working in his garden. “Did you need to see me?”
Nate stared at him for a moment, then down at Victor. He grunted out a mirthless chuckle and dismounted. “I guess I do.” Tying Victor’s reins to the rail, he checked the horse’s legs and breathing. After their hard run, he’d cooled him down with a long walk and given him a drink in the river, so he should be all right here in the shade.
“Come on into the house. We’ll have some lemonade.”
Nate followed him next door to the parsonage, a simple three-room edifice that would need to be enlarged if the young preacher married.
“Mrs. Eberly sent me home with some beef and pork, not to mention a whole basket load of other fine food.” After washing his hands in a dishpan on the kitchen table, Reverend Thomas lifted the lid on his small icebox and pulled out a plate of sliced meat and other items. “This community not only builds fine barns for their neighbors, they know how to take care of their bachelors, too. Will you have dinner with me?”
The aroma of the beef started Nate’s stomach growling, reminding him of his ill-timed departure from home. “Thank you. I will.”
Soon they were seated at the table enjoying sandwiches and potato salad, washing it all down with tangy lemonade.
“How’s everything out at the ranch?” Reverend Thomas had set some of Mrs. Barkley’s pickles on a plate and now offered them to Nate. When Nate declined, the preacher took a big bite of one. “Mmm-mmm. That lady sure knows how to make fine pickles.”
Being of a decidedly different opinion, Nate would not comment on them. But what should he say? Had the Lord led him here to seek counsel? Should he speak against his father to a man who owed the Colonel his current position, his very livelihood?
“You probably noticed when you were out there last Sunday how the crops are thriving. We finished digging the irrigation ditch to channel water from Cat Creek closer to the hay fields.” He mentioned a few other improvements made around the place. “And I’m glad to say the new addition is almost completed. The carpenter from Denver arrived yesterday to do all the fancy woodwork in the ballroom.”
“Very good. Everyone’s talking about the anniversary party. It’ll be quite an event.” The minister ate the rest of his pickle, clearly enjoying it. But even the smell ruined Nate’s appetite. “I don’t have to tell you the Colonel not only has the respect of everyone hereabouts, he also has their affection. Very few of us would be here without his sponsorship.”
Nate took a drink to avoid responding.
“Planning and building a community on biblical principles is nothing short of the Lord’s work.” Some of Reverend Thomas’s Southern inflections reminded Nate of Susanna, but he wouldn’t feel comfortable bringing her into the conversation, nor the Colonel’s dislike of her and her father. “I’m not one to be a respecter of persons, but I believe the Lord’s hand is surely on the Colonel.”
Nate started. “You think so?”
The preacher blinked. “Why, yes.”
If God was on the Colonel’s side, where did that leave Nate? He
stared at the lemon seeds in the bottom of his glass.
“In fact, I consider him a wise man.” Reverend Thomas held out the plate of sandwiches, silently offering Nate another one, but he declined. “I wouldn’t hesitate to seek his counsel if I needed it.”
Nate’s thoughts tumbled all over each other. The Colonel might be smart. But wise? “Now, that surprises me. You’re the preacher here. People come to you for advice.”
He chuckled ruefully. “They do. But unfortunately, a seminary degree only denotes knowledge, not wisdom.” His words echoed Nate’s thoughts. “That’s why I’ve been studying the Book of Proverbs. That’s why I look to older, godly men for guidance.”
The preacher’s humble attitude touched something deep inside Nate. What did this man see in the Colonel that Nate couldn’t? Maybe it was a simple matter of perspective, like Mrs. Barkley’s pickles. Some liked them and some didn’t. Right now he didn’t much like his father. But how would this man feel if the Colonel corrected everything he did? Criticized every sermon? Told him whom to marry? It was all well and good to admire a man who wasn’t trying to control every minute of his life. Still, the near-reverence the minister exhibited toward the Colonel gave Nate something to consider. And to pray about.
“Well, I’d best be going.” He stood and retrieved his hat. “Much obliged for the sandwich.”
Reverend Thomas walked him to the door. “Did I miss something, Nate? Did you need to discuss anything?”
“Nope.” Nate shook the preacher’s hand. “I think we about covered it.”
“Ah.” Understanding crossed his face. “The Lord works in mysterious ways.”
Indeed He did. Nate headed home, pondering the deeper meaning behind their conversation. The preacher had been concerned that he’d missed something, but it was Nate who still could not comprehend why anyone would think the Colonel was wise. If that was the case, why did he refuse to give Susanna and her father a chance to prove themselves, as he had every other decent person who’d come to the community? If his father was so wise, why couldn’t the two of them have a simple conversation to discuss their differences? If he’d just treat Nate with a little respect, Nate wouldn’t have to constantly remind him that he knew a thing or two about running a ranch.
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