Cowboy to the Rescue

by Louise M. Gouge

  “Do you mind?” Susanna turned Sadie around. “I haven’t touched a piano since we left home.” Never mind if they wondered how she could afford one. “Do you think Mrs. Foster would let me play just for a few minutes?”

  Nate got that cute, surprised look on his face. “You play piano?” Why did he seem so happy about it?

  “I think she’d love the company,” Rosamond said. “Let’s go.”

  As expected, the older woman graciously invited them in for a visit. When she learned Susanna played, she waved her to the piano stool. After a few arpeggios, with several missed notes due to a lack of practice, Susanna launched into “Brahms’s Lullaby,” then a few verses of “Amazing Grace,” while the others joined in singing.

  “How absolutely lovely. Another pianist in our community.” Mrs. Foster, gray-haired and maternal, clasped her hands to her heart as if transported by the music. “And you play Brahms! I was just saying to young Rita that we must bring more classical music here. Colonel Northam was so wise to recognize her talent, and she’s doing so well in her preparations for the anniversary party and— Oh, my.” She put her hands to her cheeks in horror. “Have I spoiled the surprise? Surely not. You must know your father has arranged for Rita to learn how to play. She told me the piano arrived just the other day.”

  Rosamond smothered a laugh with her hand, while Nate cleared his throat. “Yes, ma’am. We know, but Mother doesn’t. She’s not allowed in the ballroom until their party. It’s good of you to let Rita come and practice every day. She can’t practice at home or Mother would hear her.”

  While they chattered away about the grand surprise, Susanna sat in stunned silence as the truth slammed into her. As sure as the sun did shine, God had arranged for her to see Rita leaving the piano teacher’s house. The Lord, who knew every heart, knew she would seize the opportunity to find out what was going on. Which was not at all the evil she had imagined. Once again, the Colonel had found a way to please his wife. That was why he was so upset when Rita cut her hand. In the deepest part of her soul, Susanna knew not many Southern men would be so generous to a dark-skinned girl unless they had improper expectations.

  Horrified, sickened even, by her own evil judgments against the man, Susanna could only offer a weak smile and thank-you as they left Mrs. Foster’s parlor. Colonel Northam certainly had more than a few redeeming qualities. That still didn’t answer why he hated her and Daddy so much, but she would pray for him and try very hard to excuse his bad manners.

  As they headed back toward the ranch, Nate and Rosamond chatted about their visit. “Too bad you didn’t get to meet Mr. Foster,” Rosamond said to Susanna. “He’s been Father’s friend since the war, when they both rode with General Sherman.”

  Nate shot a worried glance at Susanna. “Yes, well...”

  Susanna almost gave vent to a bitter laugh. So much for her guilty feelings. She may have misjudged the Colonel regarding Rita. But there was no misjudging any soldier who rode with Sherman. Nor was there enough forgiveness in any Southerner worth his or her salt to pardon Sherman’s troops for what they did to the South. And to her family in particular.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nate blamed himself. He should have had a frank discussion with Susanna regarding the Colonel’s war service. Still, he gave her several days to recover from her obvious shock over hearing that his father rode with Sherman. He regretted his failure to alert Rosamond about how such a careless comment might upset their guests.

  The whole family knew the Anderses were from Georgia, one of the states to suffer greatly during Sherman’s march to the sea. He and his siblings had grown up accepting the general’s brutal drive as necessary to end the war, which had killed over a half million men and nearly destroyed the United States. Of course, Southerners would view the matter differently. Not all of them were like Reverend Thomas, who had said in one of his sermons how much he welcomed the reunification of the North and South into one country.

  Nate should sit Susanna down for a discussion on the matter and sort it out in a sensible way. It was madness for their generation to continue fighting the war that ended thirteen years ago. But until the anniversary party next week, he had too many responsibilities to complete. In the meantime, he admired the way she kept working around the house and taking care of her father. As for Mr. Anders, he began taking long walks around the property using the crutch Zack had made for him. He enjoyed visits from Doc Henshaw and Reverend Thomas. He even spent some time with Joe, the tanner, helping with his leatherwork. So much for the Colonel’s assertion that Mr. Anders was a lazy Southerner.

  On Thursday, the rest of the ballroom furniture arrived: four velvet chairs, two brocade settees, six mahogany side tables, four lampstands and an exquisite crystal chandelier. Susanna completed the drapes and sent Rosamond to fetch Nate to help hang them. The whole time he worked on nailing up the curtain rods over the four wide windows and adjusting the finished product, Susanna kept her eyes on the thick green drapes, pulling and picking at them to make sure they hung just right. Not once did she trade a glance with Nate or even Rosamond.

  “Excellent.” The Colonel’s voice boomed behind them, and they all turned to see him standing on the steps leading down into the ballroom. He strode across the space and examined the drapes more closely. “Miss Anders, I understand you are responsible for this fine work. I insist upon paying you. Name your wages.”

  Her eyes blazing, she lifted her chin. “Why, no, indeed, Colonel Northam. Your hospitality while my father recuperates is more than sufficient payment.” The iciness in her tone was enough to freeze the sunshine right out of the room. She spun around and marched away, head held high.

  Only then did Nate realize how deeply she hated his father. But had he lost his own chance to win her affection? If she’d given him one look these past few days, one hint that she wanted to talk to him, he would go to her right now. Instead, Rosamond gave him a rueful frown and followed Susanna. That gave Nate a measure of peace. With the girls getting along so well, he had that one tiny thread of hope. It wasn’t as though Susanna could go anyplace until her father was fully back on his feet.

  “Very fine indeed.” The Colonel acted as though nothing unpleasant had happened. Instead, he sauntered around the room inspecting every detail. From time to time, he sent an approving glance in Nate’s direction.

  Since the silent resolution of their argument last week, his father had been treating him with more respect. He’d even taken Nate’s advice about giving Rand more responsibility in managing things around the ranch. Wanting to ensure their truce, Nate made a point of agreeing with—or at least deferring to—several of his father’s decisions on things Nate usually handled.

  “Mother will be overwhelmed.” He moved up beside the Colonel as he studied the scalloped molding near the ceiling. “And happy.”

  His father gave him a curt nod, but he was smiling...almost. Nate’s heart lifted unexpectedly. This was the way things had been when the two of them had shouldered the burden of moving the family across the country ten years ago. Somehow a bridge had been mended, and Nate couldn’t be more pleased. Remembering Reverend Thomas’s words, he tried to think of a way to reaffirm his trust in the Colonel’s wisdom.

  “Yessir, you sure do have some mighty fine ideas.” Whether running a ranch, developing a community or honoring his wife.

  His father eyed him with a hint of suspicion that quickly dissolved. He clapped Nate on the shoulder. “I’m glad to hear you say that, son.”

  Nate felt a foolish grin spread across his face. He’d taken the first step to earning the right to persuade his father to accept Susanna. Now he had to find a way to convince Susanna they needed to forget the war and the Colonel’s part in it and move on with their own lives.

  * * *

  Even as she longed to get out of this house, Susanna felt waves of nostalgia as she worked on various p
rojects leading up to the party. At her parents’ last anniversary together just over a year ago, Mama had been so beautiful in a rose-colored gown, and Daddy his most handsome in an elegant black suit. She would treasure those memories as long as she lived and would try to help make this anniversary as memorable for the Northams.

  Despite loathing the Colonel, Susanna still could find no fault in Mrs. Northam. The lady had opened her home and provided for her and Daddy without a hint of reservation. What a stark contrast between her and her husband. Did the Colonel realize Susanna had it within her power to ruin all of his carefully planned surprises? That it was her Southern-bred honor that kept her mouth shut around those secrets? After the party, she would make sure he knew all about it.

  Nor did she reveal to Daddy about the Colonel riding with Sherman. If she did, there was no telling what he’d do.

  The week of the event arrived, and only a few more tasks required Susanna’s assistance. Mrs. Northam instructed Nate to bring a large oak chest from the attic storeroom, and she opened it to reveal a tarnished silver tea service.

  “Oh, my, these are exquisite, Mrs. Northam.” She lifted out the creamer and sugar bowl to have a closer look at the etched designs. “Don’t you think so?” Without thinking, she handed one of the pieces to Nate. At the touch of his hand on hers, a spark shot up her arm, and they shared a smile. He seemed particularly pleased to receive hers, if the sudden brightening of his green eyes was any indication. Oh, how she had missed their friendly banter, missed just being with him. Was it wrong to care so deeply for him when she could feel only loathing for his father?

  “Bert gave me his secret baking-soda concoction to clean away the tarnish.” Mrs. Northam rolled up her sleeves and lay a sheet out on the table. “Let’s hope it works.” From the sideboard, she took a small jar and several lengths of torn sheets.

  “Please let me do it.” Susanna would perform this one last kindness for her hostess. Right after the party, she and Daddy would be moving to a house Reverend Thomas had found for them, where they would stay until Daddy was able to travel to the silver fields. If he still wanted to go. “You have enough to do.”

  Mrs. Northam gave her a doubtful look. “Are you certain?”

  “I can help.” Nate removed the tea server from the box, then pulled out a large silver tray. The center boasted the monogram GEM in large script letters. The bottom of the piece was inscribed with the silversmith’s name. “Paul Revere! Mother, why haven’t I seen this before?”

  She laughed. “I suppose because we haven’t had a grand enough occasion.”

  “I’m duly impressed.” Even living in the South, Susanna had learned of Revere’s patriotic ride through Longfellow’s 1861 poem.

  “Well, your twenty-fifth anniversary is supposed to be the silver one,” Nate said, “so I’d say that makes it grand enough. A Paul Revere silver service for a silver celebration.”

  “All right, then.” Mrs. Northam eyed Susanna, then Nate. “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t have too much fun.”

  After she left, they sat at the table and began to work. Sure enough, Bert’s secret formula, plus a strong dose of elbow grease, cut through the tarnish without scratching the silver.

  “I’ve missed you.” Nate kept his eyes on the creamer he was rubbing with a cloth.

  She should say she’d been there all the time, eating with the family, answering when spoken to. But that wasn’t what he meant. “I’ve—”

  “Hey, Nate.” Tolley burst through the door. “Seamus’s got himself in a pickle with that mustang mare. Can you come help?”

  Nate’s shoulders slumped. “I’ll be right there.” He rubbed the black marks from his hand. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

  After he left, the dining room felt more than empty. It felt bereft. Or maybe she was just thinking of how hard it would be to leave him behind.

  She heard the thump of Daddy’s crutch on the hallway floor. “Daddy? Come keep me company.”

  He poked his head through the open door. “I was just headed to the kitchen for a glass of water.”

  Susanna had noticed he made frequent such trips when Angela was busy cooking, but she wouldn’t question him. “You can go through this way. Come see what I’m doing.”

  He limped toward the table, and his face contorted oddly.

  “Daddy? What’s wrong?”

  “What do you have there, daughter?” His terse question was accompanied by eyes burning with anger.

  “I-it’s a silver tea service.” What could be wrong? Daddy never got angry this way, even when the thieves had beaten and nearly killed him. “Paul Revere made it.” Her words came out like an apology.

  “I know who made it.” He threw down his crutch and snatched up the half-cleaned tray. “Do you see this monogram?”

  She nodded.

  “GEM. Gabriel Edward MacAndrews.” He traced the letters with a reverence that belied his rage. “Your great-great-grandfather.”

  “What?” Susanna scrambled to make sense of his words.

  He pulled out the chair next to her and sat. “Listen, daughter.” He ran a hand over his mouth, a nervous, angry gesture. “You thought I came to Colorado on a quest for silver, and you were right. But this—” he gently tapped the teapot “—this is the silver I’ve been searching for.”

  “Oh, Daddy.” Tears filled her eyes, and she touched his arm. “This is Mama’s silver service the Yankees took.”

  He nodded. “That’s not all.” He pulled on the chain around his neck and retrieved a locket from beneath his shirt. Inside was her parents’ tiny tintype wedding portrait. “You know I wore this into battle, and you’ve seen the picture many times, but you’ve never asked about the necklace your mother is wearing.”

  She shook her head. Countless belongings had been stolen from their family during the war, but Mama had also sold some of her remaining valuables after the war to help Daddy start his business. Susanna had never wanted to bring up such a sensitive subject. “Tell me about it.”

  “Eleven sapphires, graduated in size and set in silver, an heirloom, like the tea service, this one from my mother’s family.” He winced when he mentioned Grandmama. Susanna knew he’d never quit grieving her death. “You were just six years old, so maybe you don’t recall when these were taken.” He stared off, a dark frown creasing his forehead. “I was away fighting when those Yankee cowards came. Your brother was twelve.” He drew in a ragged breath. “You may wonder why Edward Junior is such a cautious man. He wasn’t always that way. Why, when he saw the Yankees storming onto our property, he started shooting and wounded a couple of them before they caught him.” Daddy trembled at the memory, and Susanna gripped his forearm. He covered her hand with his.

  “He was just a boy.” Daddy’s voice shook. “But they would have hanged him to set an example for any other Southerner who dared to defy them if your mother hadn’t intervened. She promised a treasure to their commanding officer in return for Edward’s life. She would have given them anything, everything, including her own life, to save either one of you. As it was, that officer was satisfied with this silver service and the sapphire necklace. She told them where she’d buried the items, and they helped themselves.”

  Daddy slumped wearily against the table. “In spite of that, the officer ordered your brother’s guns, my guns, taken, too. He also ordered the house to be burned down with everything else in it. Then he ordered Edward’s arms to be broken.”

  Bile rose into Susanna’s throat. She vaguely remembered the grand plantation house and how her childhood nurse had hurried her away from the scene on Mama’s orders. She knew the Yankees had hurt Edward, who’d never regained full use of his arms. And, as Daddy said, he’d become a cautious man. Almost fearful. As more memories flooded her mind, one currently familiar face came into focus. “Colonel Northam.” She spat out the name
.

  “Colonel Northam.” Daddy straightened. “Now you know everything. The Yankees recorded the names of every person who resisted them, so ours went on their list. That’s why I changed our name when we came west. Why I didn’t want them to know about our social standing back home. The best way to defeat an adversary is to keep him ignorant about who you are and what you plan to do.”

  “We have to go.” Susanna rubbed tarnish from her hands and stood. “We have to leave this place right away.”

  Daddy gripped her arm and tugged her back down on the chair. “Don’t be hasty, daughter.”

  She questioned him with a look.

  “When I learned the name of the officer who brutalized and robbed my family, I knew I couldn’t let it rest. I wrote letters and found out exactly where Frank Northam had settled. Before your mama died, I promised her I would settle the score, and the Lord led us here as surely as He led Moses to the Promised Land.”

  Susanna’s hair seemed to stand on end. Was there more to Mama’s dying plea for her to take care of Daddy? Had she thought Susanna could somehow stop his quest for revenge? As for his biblical reference, she would not remind him that Moses hadn’t been permitted to enter Israel’s new home because he’d failed to honor God in an important matter. But what would the Lord have her do in this situation?

  “Only the Almighty could have arranged our meeting with Nate.” Daddy chuckled. “Of course, I wish He’d found a less painful way. But then we wouldn’t be in this house, wouldn’t have had our silver put right into our hands.”

  Queasiness swept through Susanna. “What do you plan to do?”

  His expression grew wily. “We don’t have your mama’s necklace, but we have this silver service, and it belongs to you. Go ahead and shine it with pride. When we leave, we’ll take it with us.”