Cowboy Homecoming

by Louise M. Gouge

  That boyish look she’d grown fond of spread over his face. “You don’t want to wait until it’s hung?”

  “I’d love to be the first to see it.” She slipped past him and walked through the small back porch and into the kitchen, where she dumped the greens into the sink. “If it won’t be too much trouble.”

  Pepper scooted inside with her and now tangled himself in her skirt.

  “No trouble at all.” Tolley placed the package on the empty worktable and began to unwrap it. Pepper now rubbed against his trousers and meowed as if curious about the package. “Not like this annoying cat.” He gently shoved the creature aside with his foot as he untied the string.

  “Pepper?” Laurie gave him a sidelong look. “Why, he’s adorable. Right now he’s listening to the crinkling of the paper. Can you tear off a corner and wad it up for him to play with?”

  “And waste good paper we can reuse?” Tolley snorted. “Besides, cats belong outside.” He peeled the paper back and studied his sign with a critical eye. “I haven’t seen it since picking it up at the sign painter’s in Boston. What do you think?”

  Pepper batted at the twine hanging from the table, then grabbed it and dashed toward the back stairs, the long string trailing behind him.

  “Hey!” Tolley lunged for him, but only managed to step on the string. “Ha! Got it.”

  Pepper returned, staring up at Tolley and meowing while batting at the string as Tolley attempted to roll it into a ball.

  Laurie giggled. “See? He likes you and wants to play.”

  “As I said before, cats belong outside.” Brow furrowed, he started to rewrap his sign.

  “Wait. Let me see it.” Laurie folded the paper back to reveal a painted tan board. A black silhouette of a man’s head in a top hat graced the upper left corner. In the center, the words Bartholomew Lincoln Northam, Esq. were written in black script, and underneath, Attorney at Law.

  “It’s beautiful. Just perfect.” He’d always hated his Christian name. Maybe he’d changed his mind while in Boston.

  “The sign maker did a good job. Can’t wait to get it hung.” In spite of Pepper’s antics, he managed to rewrap it and tie the string around the package. “You wanted something from Mrs. Winsted’s?”

  “Not from. To. The eggs for sale are in the basket and ready to go. Can you carry the sign and the basket?”

  Still grinning, Tolley stared down at her, and her heart did a silly little hop. “Of course.”

  He gathered the two items and, using one broad shoulder, shoved his way through the swinging door and disappeared into the center hallway.

  A warm feeling settled inside her as she went about her Saturday chores. Tolley seemed to have grown up quite a bit over the past two years. Instead of doing what would bring him the most favor and praise from other people, he selflessly spent his time caring for Mrs. Foster.

  Laurie pumped water into the sink and washed the greens, then let the dirty water out through the pipe leading to the garden. After placing the greens in a pot, she returned to the sink and pumped more water to scrub her hands so she could start the supper biscuits.

  Ma wouldn’t be happy to see the dirt under her fingernails, but when Laurie had sent word she’d stay in town to take care of Mrs. Foster, Ma had approved. She’d taught her five daughters to set priorities in life. First came the Lord, next the family, then those who couldn’t help themselves. Mrs. Foster’s situation certainly qualified as the latter.

  Then Tolley’s handsome face came to mind. But why? He didn’t need her help. Did he?

  * * *

  Tolley stepped down from the ladder and stood back to view his sign hanging above the door and perpendicular to the front of the building. For a moment, as a breeze gently caused the sign to sway in an appealing way, pride welled up in his chest at the professional appearance of his new office’s entrance. He cast a self-conscious glance over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching. No one. In fact, most of the people he’d seen, those who’d known him since his childhood, offered at best a tepid greeting.

  At least Laurie admired the sign. And Mrs. Winsted welcomed him...or at least welcomed the eggs he’d brought so she could sell them for Mrs. Foster. Then when he’d purchased the hooks, nails and short lengths of chain, the kindly storekeeper offered the use of her hammer and folding ladder. The understanding in her eyes seemed to say more than her words, but he didn’t ask why. Not until he felt the chill of being ignored by other townspeople did he wonder at her apparent acceptance.

  When he returned the borrowed items, he thought to engage her in conversation, maybe ask why she treated him so kindly. But too many customers filled her mercantile and clamored for her attention. As soon as he saw the clerk, Homer Bean, between customers, he quickly hailed him.

  “Morning, Tolley.” The slender man hurried across the store. Like Nolan Means, he seemed eager to serve a Northam. “What can I do for you?”

  “I set Mrs. Winsted’s ladder and hammer at the end of the counter. Will you give her my thanks?”

  “Sure thing.” Ever the salesman, Homer beckoned Tolley over to a display. “Now you’ll need a broom and some cleaning rags. You’ll be wanting to wash those front windows, so you’ll need a bucket and some vinegar.”

  “Vinegar?” Tolley tilted his hat back and scratched his head. “I’m opening a law office, not making pickles.”

  Homer guffawed and slapped Tolley on the back. “Vinegar will make those windows shine. See what I mean?” He pointed to the mercantile’s display windows. “First thing I do every morning before I open the store is shine the glass with vinegar water.”

  Tolley listened to Homer’s detailed instructions, for the first time realizing that if he cleaned his own office, he’d be doing women’s work after all. He just wouldn’t mention it to Laurie, or she’d want him to do the same at the boardinghouse. But a clean window would be essential to presenting a professional appearance, so what choice did he have? After making the purchases Homer suggested, he clutched the items and strode back across the street, dodging people, horsemen, carriages and wagons. He felt a little kick in his chest when he saw his shingle.

  His front door opened into a ten-by-twelve-foot reception area, behind which lay a hallway leading to two offices, each one furnished with an oak desk and chair. The larger room at the end also held an oak filing cabinet that had seen better days, along with pine bookshelves under the front window. Cobwebs stretched across many open areas. Dust covered everything, no surprise for any building in the San Luis Valley, where the wind blew sandy soil across the landscape nearly every day.

  He swept the dirt from the back office floor and then dusted the room, only to discover sandy powder covering the floor anew. Bother. Exactly why housecleaning was women’s work. They knew all about when to do what. By the time he’d dusted and swept the entire building and whisked the sand out the back door, his dark trousers were covered with the evidence of his work. He beat at the fabric to get rid of it, only to find the floor where he stood needed to be swept again.

  How did women keep up with it all? When Tolley was growing up, men’s work and women’s work were clearly delineated. He and his brothers helped the Colonel run the ranch. Mother and Rosamond, along with the family housekeeper, did the women’s work in the house. He remembered the house was always spotless. Did the women clean every day? If the chore took as much effort as cleaning this office, maybe he should relent and help Laurie take care of Mrs. Foster’s house.

  No, his jobs—the men’s work—were putting in the bathroom and starting his law practice. Besides, Laurie seemed to have his mother’s gift of being able to do it all. He’d continue to take care of the yard and the chickens and of course this office. Which wouldn’t be finished until he washed the front windows.

  Now, what had Homer said about vinegar water? With his rags full of dus
t, he decided they’d do more harm than good. He rinsed them out at the pump in the courtyard behind the building and hung them over the back hitching rail. Tomorrow was Sunday, so he’d have to wait until Monday to shine the windows.

  He sure did need someone to clean this place so he could stick to more important tasks.

  * * *

  Before going to the church early to practice the hymns, Laurie fed the boarders, washed the dishes, made sure Mrs. Foster had everything she needed and put a roast and potatoes into the oven to bake for dinner. At the church, she found her sister Grace setting out hymnbooks, one hand on her round belly. By October, the family would be blessed with another baby.

  “Hey, sis.” Grace greeted her with an awkward hug and went back to her work.

  “Hello, Laurie.” Her brother-in-law, Reverend Micah Thomas, waved to her from the podium, where he wrote on a tablet, no doubt revising his sermon notes. “Thank you for taking on the music duties. I put a list of the hymns on the organ.”

  “It’s my pleasure.” Laurie noticed a loving look passing between Micah and Grace. Who’d have thought her next-older sister, who’d served as the rough-and-ready deputy of Esperanza for three years, would be the one to nab the attractive minister, previously the object of many a young lady’s pursuit?

  “Sure is a nice sunny day.” She set her reticule and parasol beside the organ and brought Grace another pile of hymnbooks from the shelves in the cloakroom. “Let me help you.”

  “Thanks.” Grace put a hand on her lower back and stretched. “All that bending makes Junior kick like crazy.”

  After they’d distributed the books, Laurie sat on the organ bench and pumped the bellows with her feet. When the instrument had enough air, she warmed up her fingers by running scales before opening her music.

  As she practiced “Immanuel’s Land,” she noticed Tolley entering the church. After shaking Micah’s hand and speaking quietly with him for a moment, he sat in the back pew and turned his gaze—and that appealing smile—toward her. Her fingers slipped, and a noisy discord filled the room. Heat rushed to her face.

  “Oops!” Grace laughed, a hearty sound so like her. “Good thing you came early to practice.”

  “Sounds like a bawling calf,” Tolley called out.

  “That’s enough out of you.” Laurie wrinkled her nose at him. Same old Tolley, always teasing. She grinned and shook her head.

  Standing next to the organ, Grace looked from Laurie to Tolley and back again, eyebrows raised, eyes widened.

  “Uh, no,” Laurie muttered. “Don’t you dare suggest anything.”

  “What?” Tolley called.

  “Nothing,” Grace said.

  “Nothing,” Laurie said with a little more emphasis.

  A very handsome man, Tolley would be pursued by plenty of young ladies in the congregation. While the thought didn’t sit well with her, she wouldn’t be among them. No, indeed, she would not. She knew him too well ever to fall in love with him.

  * * *

  Glad he came early, Tolley watched as Laurie practiced the hymns. She looked mighty pretty sitting at the organ. Competent, too. The restful music put him in a worshipful frame of mind. Laurie played even better than Mrs. Foster, probably due to her two years at the conservatory. Music added so much to a church service. Added to the atmosphere of a home, too. He should encourage her to play at the boardinghouse. Maybe music would improve the other boarders’ dispositions.

  The objects of his thoughts entered the church separately and took seats on opposite sides of the room. Their obvious dislike for each other was both sad and funny.

  He watched for his family to enter, but no Northams joined the eighty or so parishioners who filed into the pews before the worship service. With some effort, he turned his thoughts away from his disappointment and decided to sit back, enjoy the music and take in whatever Reverend Thomas said. Though young, the minister had the same kind, accepting character as old Reverend Harris. Tolley wished he’d listened to Reverend Thomas as a youth. Might’ve kept him out of trouble. Maybe if he’d... No! Maybe he needed to take Reverend Harris’s advice: forget the past and reach toward being like Jesus. Tolley couldn’t remember the verse exactly.

  Before he could open his Bible to search for it, a hand gripped his shoulder.

  “Scoot over.” His oldest brother, Nate, grinned and gave him a little nudge as he moved into the pew.

  Tolley felt a burst of joy. As his face grew warm, he covered the bothersome surge of emotion by peering around Nate. “Where are Susanna and the children?” And the rest of the family?

  Nate seemed to understand his unspoken question. “I expect Rosamond and Garrick shortly. They’ve moved back to the hotel, although Rosamond will probably come out to the ranch every day. Everybody else is staying at the big house for now.” He gave Tolley a sidelong glance. “They all send their best. We’re proud of you for helping Mrs. Foster.”

  “It’s the right thing to do. How’s the Colonel?” He should have asked right away.

  Nate shrugged. “The same.”

  Memories of a family tradition surfaced, and Tolley gathered courage to ask, “What about the usual big Sunday dinner?” Pride kept him from outright begging for an invitation.

  Nate shook his head. “We’re trying to keep things as quiet as possible.”

  Tolley nodded, even as he noticed the contradiction in his brother’s words. With three little grandchildren running around the house and a crying baby, how did they keep things quiet? Instead of confronting Nate about it, he lifted the hymnbook from the pew. “Speaking of being quiet, you aren’t going to sing, are you?” Notoriously tone-deaf, Nate was good-natured about it.

  “Of course I am.” Nate smirked. “Couldn’t appreciate the words near as much if I didn’t.”

  Tolley grimaced and shuddered comically. Before he could add another quip, Rosamond and Garrick moved into the pew beside him. As he greeted them, the preacher stood up in front of the congregation, welcomed everyone and announced the first song. The strains and poetry of “Immanuel’s Land” filled the sanctuary, and Tolley concentrated on the words.

  While he looked forward to going to heaven one day, he had a lot of living to do, a lot of proving himself to those he’d hurt or disappointed, a lot of proving himself to God. Revered Harris had told him, Men look on the outside, but God looks on the heart, so Tolley trusted the Lord knew how much he regretted his past. But he couldn’t let go of the idea that actions would prove it to Him and to everybody. He could use more of the old minister’s counsel. Now he’d have to figure these things out for himself.

  As the song continued, Tolley noticed Nate didn’t sound half-bad today, mainly because he didn’t sing as loudly as he used to. Would their family appreciate Tolley’s changes as much as they surely appreciated Nate’s improvement? But if he couldn’t go to the ranch, he’d never have a chance to prove himself.

  * * *

  After announcements and prayers, including one for Colonel Northam, Micah began his sermon. As he spoke, Laurie noticed a change in his demeanor. His usual cheerful optimism disappeared, and his eyes grew red as he announced the death of Dathan Hardison last Wednesday. Laurie had been so involved in her own activities she’d forgotten the unrepentant outlaw who’d caused much grief to the people of Esperanza. He’d been buried on Thursday with no one to mourn him. While many folks said, “Good riddance,” Micah reminded them God was not willing that any should perish.

  He went on to speak about the Christian’s future in heaven, seeing departed loved ones again, being free from fear and pain and, most of all, seeing Jesus Christ face-to-face. He read from 1 Corinthians 13:12–14: “‘For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of the
se is charity.’

  “So, beloved—” Micah gazed around the room “—go forth this week in faith and hope and especially in love for one another.”

  The service ended with an invitation to salvation, a prayer and the stirring hymn lyrics “My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’s blood and righteousness.” By the last verse, most congregants were smiling and, as they filed out of the pews, shared hugs and kind words with one another.

  Laurie continued to play softly so as not to drown out the conversations. After Micah’s message, her heart felt full and her mind enriched. With only a few parishioners left in the room, she closed her hymnbook and gathered her reticule and parasol.

  Ma and Pa came forward to hug her and say how much they’d missed her.

  “Seems like that conservatory was worth the money.” Pa’s eyes twinkled with pride.

  Ma patted his arm. “Don’t talk about money, George.” To Laurie, she said, “You’re doing a fine thing to take care of Mrs. Foster, honey. Just be sure to take care of those hands, too.” Before Laurie could pull on her gloves, Ma gripped her hands and studied them, clicking her tongue over their redness. “When you go to bed, use that cream I sent and put on an old pair of gloves to keep ’em soft.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She followed them up the aisle, out the door and into the late-morning sunshine. After they’d chatted for a few minutes, her parents climbed into their surrey and headed home.

  “May I walk you home?” Tolley stood beneath the nearby cottonwood tree and twirled his black Stetson in his hands. He seemed subdued, perhaps as moved by Micah’s message as she.

  “You may.” She raised her parasol under the bright sunshine.

  Although she guessed Tolley wanted to talk before they reached Mrs. Foster’s house, he remained silent. Maybe he merely wanted some company.

  “I thought you’d be going home with Nate. Isn’t your family having their usual Sunday dinner?” She’d seen him chatting with Nate, Rosamond and Garrick after the service.