Cowboy to the Rescue (7 page)

“The Colonel is pretty free with his opinions, isn’t he?” Nate’s question broke into Susanna’s thoughts, but again she doubted she was supposed to answer. “But sometimes his anger is justified.”

Susanna offered him a questioning look, both eyebrows raised, but no smile.

“That shipment of china? It was supposed to be delivered all the way to the ranch. The freight drivers left it at the trading post in Pueblo and headed out to the gold fields near Denver.” He huffed out a sigh edged with frustration. “That’s why Zack and I had to go get it.”

Susanna stifled a gasp. If Nate hadn’t gone to the fort, he wouldn’t have been on La Veta Pass, wouldn’t have been there to save Daddy’s life. Why, he’d been an answer to prayer, and the Lord set it all in motion long before those thieves stole their horses. She started to mention that important fact, but Nate kept talking.

“’Course, the Colonel never did think much of prospectors, even before that.” Nate grimaced as if he knew it was rude to say so. “You see, he’s trying to build a decent community out here, a Christian community where everybody works hard and helps his neighbor.”

“Unless that neighbor is a prospector?” Susanna couldn’t keep the crossness from her voice.

Nate shrugged. “Most prospectors are out for one thing, finding a fortune, sometimes at a terrible cost to themselves or others.”

Susanna held her peace. What good would it do to tell him Daddy already had a small fortune? That prospecting was only a pastime, an enjoyment in his old age?

“’Course, you and Mr. Anders aren’t typical prospectors.” Nate offered one of his charming smiles, and Susanna had to look away to keep from smiling back. “It’ll take some time for your father to heal up so you can continue your journey. I’m sure by the time you head out, the Colonel will see you’re decent Christian folks.”

His statement, so simply spoken, sent another one of those pleasant but traitorous feelings through Susanna’s chest. At his core, Nate Northam was an upstanding man, one who gave people a chance to prove themselves beyond appearances. Her heart reached out to attach itself to him, and she could think of only one way to stop it.
Yankee! Yankee! Yankee!
she shouted in her mind. Yet somehow that epithet failed to engender the usual sense of anger and dismissal.

How could she hate a man who had saved Daddy’s life and showed her only kindness?

Chapter Seven

T
he Colonel would change his opinion of Mr. Anders? Nate had no right to advance such a notion. His father was as unpredictable as a San Luis Valley winter and often just as cold and bitter. But Nate couldn’t let Susanna go on feeling bad about the Colonel’s remarks. Maybe with Rosamond’s and Maisie’s help, he could cheer her up, at least for today. This brave little lady had a lot weighing on those slender shoulders, and he longed to lighten her load.

“How was your father this morning?” The moment the words came out of his mouth, he wanted to kick himself. He’d asked the same question back in the kitchen and learned the old man hadn’t slept well.

He could see she caught his mistake, because she grinned and looked the other way, ducking behind the brim of her bonnet. When she turned back at him, the smile was gone and her eyes had a misty look. “Brave, as always. Trying to hide his pain from me.”

Brave
would fit Susanna, too. “Don’t let it worry you. Charlie told me yesterday that broken ribs are just about the most painful injury a man can have, sometimes even worse than a broken leg. But he’ll heal.” At her doubtful expression, he added, “Angela has a real gift for taking care of people. She’ll make him comfortable.”

Susanna favored him with a slight nod.

He’d let her be for a while. She needed healing, too—heart healing. After almost losing her father to murderous thieves, she could do with a little bit of happiness and security. Rosamond and Maisie, for all of their immaturity, had welcomed her like a long-lost sister. And of course, Mother had relished the rare chance to show hospitality. He’d leave it to the ladies to take care of the happiness. As for the security, Nate would have to keep her away from the Colonel as much as possible. Susanna didn’t need to wonder whether he would throw her and Mr. Anders out before the old man was well enough to stand on his own two feet and provide for the two of them. Not that Mother would allow such a thing to happen. The dear woman loved everybody and never let anyone leave her house hungry or in need.

As often before, Nate pondered his father’s disposition and the way it differed so completely from Mother’s. The Colonel made quick judgments about people and seldom changed his mind. Yet he had an uncommon ability to inspire loyalty and to gather good people to himself, a trait that no doubt came in handy during the war and never left him. To a person, everyone in the community thought the sun rose and set in the Colonel and looked to him for leadership. No wonder everyone was eager to make the upcoming anniversary celebration an event that no one would ever forget.

Nate knew his father rose early every day and went to his study to pray and read the large, leather-bound family Bible. He had observed the Colonel’s faith many times in the ten years since they had come to the San Luis Valley. But he often seemed to Nate like an angry Old Testament prophet rather than a man saved by the grace of Jesus Christ. His favorite target to preach at? Nate himself. And it wearied him into the very depths of his soul.

He could leave. The thought was never far from his mind. But then he would remember these past ten years. The long journey from Boston, mostly by wagon. Helping the Colonel with the hard jobs. Helping his brothers and sister when things got tough. Coming over the mountains. Finding the right acreage. Building the house. Nate could remember every board, every nail, every stone cleared from the fields and laid for the foundation. He had more skin in the house, the barn, the stable and the church up the road than a man of his age had a right to claim. That alone gave him a reason to stay in the community. He must not let his father drive him away.

“How much farther?” Susanna’s question was a welcome relief from Nate’s dismal musings.

“You getting tired?” He challenged her with a smirk, hoping to lighten her mood and his own.

“La-di-da, Mr. Northam, not in the slightest.”

When she spoke in that sassy way of hers, how could he not cheer up?

“Well, I was just checking. Wouldn’t want you to wilt away in the summer heat.”

“Now, there you go again.” She stuck her pert little nose in the air. “We Southern ladies may look delicate, but we’re made of steel. You’ll see.” She sniffed with artificial haughtiness, adding a little lift of one shoulder. “Besides, I can’t seem to locate this summer heat you’re so busy talking about. Have you evah been to Georgia in August? That’s a heat you’ll never forget. Why, it gets so hot, the chickens lay hard-boiled eggs. It gets so hot, our candles melt into little puddles before they’re even lit.”

Nate threw back his head and guffawed. He hadn’t laughed this hard in he didn’t know how long. “That’s pretty hot.”

They rode in silence while their horses waded through the fast-flowing Cat Creek. Once they reached the opposite side, Susanna gave Nate a saucy look. “Go on, now. Try to outdo me.”

It took him about four seconds to understand what she meant, another ten to come up with a retort. “I don’t suppose I can beat you for hot weather, but I’ll give you a warning about the cold.”

“I’m waiting.” Susanna looked so pretty sitting up straight and proper on Sadie, just like a duchess. Oh, mercy, there he went again.

Remembering how Zack told tall tales in the bunkhouse on a winter’s night, Nate got a faraway look in his eyes. “Well,” he drawled, “it was nigh on five years ago I learned a mighty hard lesson about Colorado winters.” This was harder than he’d thought. His quip wasn’t that complicated. A glance at Susanna revealed her interest...and amusement. He had to come up with something fast.

The thunder of hooves broke into his panicked thoughts. Rosamond and Maisie were racing back to join them, each one bent low on her mount’s neck, determined to win the spur-of-the-moment contest. Rosamond won, pulling her horse to a stop as if she was set to rope a calf for branding. Nate wouldn’t be surprised if she jumped off and lassoed something, maybe that jackrabbit that just took off running from the thicket a few yards away. Despite being a little embarrassed by his sister’s rowdy ways, he couldn’t complain about the reprieve he’d just been handed. Maybe Susanna would forget the subject of their banter. Or maybe he could use the interruption to come up with some clever yarn about the cold.

* * *

“Hurry up.” Maisie pulled up beside Rosamond. “We found the columbines just over that hill.” She tipped her head in that direction, knocking her wide-brimmed hat askew. She didn’t seem to notice.

“What’s the hurry?” Nate looked mighty relieved over being interrupted.

Doubting he actually had a cold-weather story, Susanna laughed to herself. But guilt quickly swept away her amusement. What was the matter with her? Against everything she’d ever been taught, she’d been flirting with this Yankee boy. Mama had taught her never, ever to flirt with a man she didn’t think she could marry.
Forgive me, Mama.

“Let’s go.” Nate urged his horse to a brisk trot, with the packhorse trailing behind.

Instead of pulling up beside him, Susanna held Sadie to a slower pace. Nate sent her a questioning look over his shoulder.

“I want to enjoy the scenery.” She used that excuse to avoid resuming their teasing conversation, but it was also the truth.

The past four months had been constant motion, yet as slowly as she and Daddy had traveled west, they always seemed to be in a hurry. Hurry to catch one train then another on their way to St. Louis. Hurry to purchase a wagon and supplies so they could make it across the plains in good weather. She wanted, no,
needed
to relax and enjoy this beautiful country.

She drew in a deep breath and let it out. The air smelled clean and fresh, with a hint of alfalfa. Above her, the sky was a deeper, richer blue than she’d ever seen. A pleasant breeze brushed over her with a featherlike caress. An occasional deer appeared in the distance, then danced away into the cottonwoods, while numerous long-eared rabbits scurried around in the tall grass. Every sight, every smell, seemed to call out to her to surrender to the happiness trying to invade her soul. Oh, how she longed for the freedom to enjoy this place, this day. These people.

Nate slowed his pace but remained ahead of her, checking back often and waving or touching his hat brim in a salute. No one could say he wasn’t a considerate man. But she’d known that from the moment she met him.

She must remember who she was and where she came from. Georgia had its fields and flowers and beautiful skies. That was where her friends and relatives lived. That was where she belonged. Somehow she must guard her tongue, her heart, her mind and not let these Yankees invade her soul as their soldiers had invaded her beloved homeland. She must not lose hold of all she’d ever been taught.

As depression threatened to overshadow her, she reached the top of the hill where Nate awaited her. The instant she pulled up beside him, all sadness vanished at the breathtaking sight. Below in the shallow valley lay a carpet of blue columbines, their rich, sweet perfume rising on the breeze to fill her senses.

“Ohhh,” she breathed out on a sigh. “How beautiful.” In all her life, the only flower fragrance to rival this came from the gardenias in Mama’s garden. She glanced at Nate to find him studying her, and her foolish heart skipped. “Yes? You have something to say?”

He grinned in his charming way, with one side of his upper lip higher than the other. Did he give that same smile to all the girls?

“No, ma’am. I’m just enjoying the look in your eyes.” He gazed down into the valley. “It truly is something, isn’t it?”

Rosamond and Maisie had already dismounted and were studying the flowers. Rosamond beckoned to them. “Come on down.”

Instead of answering Nate, Susanna moved the reins on Sadie’s neck, and the mare began to pick her way down the slope, zigzagging until she reached her friends. The other two horses nickered and tossed their heads as if to say
What took you so long?
If only Susanna could enjoy the similar welcome Rosamond and Maisie offered her.

“Come take a look.” Rosamond held Sadie’s reins so Susanna could dismount.

Not waiting for Nate’s help, Susanna freed her right knee from the pommel and her left foot from the stirrup, then jumped to the ground. Her landing on the hard ground sent a sharp pain through each of her feet and up her ankles and calves, causing her to yelp in a most unladylike way. She never should have worn Mrs. Northam’s boots, for they weren’t really a good fit.

Nate jumped down from his horse and hurried to her side. “Why didn’t you wait for me? I’d have helped you down.”

“I’m fine.” Pride forced a smile to her lips, even as the other two girls voiced their sympathy. Even as the balls of her feet continued to sting. “What have you found?”

The girls appeared to accept her quick recovery, but Nate didn’t dismiss it so lightly.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” He gently gripped her elbow, and a pleasant sensation swept up her arm, clear to her neck.

She shook it off as best she could without jerking away from him. “Yes. Don’t give it another thought.”

He released her but held her gaze, his green eyes boring into hers with a commanding intensity. “Next time, you wait for me. Your father doesn’t need for you to be injured.” How could a man’s tone of voice be so stern and gentle at the same time?

Susanna felt the wind go out of her attempt at aloofness. She could not dislike this man, for he showed nothing but concern for Daddy and her. “You’re right, of course. Thank you.”

With considerable difficulty, she broke away and limped over to the girls. “Tell me about your plans to transplant these.” Mama had taught her how to move flowers about the garden, but she wouldn’t show off her knowledge unless asked.

“I dunno.” Maisie at last straightened her wide-brimmed hat, a boyish creation that resembled Nate’s and Rosamond’s. “Just dig ’em up, I suppose, and put ’em in a sack.” She indicated the burlap bags on the packhorse.

“Do you have any ideas?” Rosamond asked.

Susanna took a minute to kneel and study the plants and dig a gloved finger around the base of one cluster. “Well, I don’t know about columbines, but I would suppose they’re not too much different from jonquils or Johnny-jump-ups.” She brushed the dirt from her leather gloves and stood. “Do you have a small spade?”

The girls retrieved their equipment from the packhorse, and Susanna set about teaching them how to dig up the flowers. She wasn’t sure this was the best time of year for transplanting, being that the columbines were in full bloom. But here they were, so she would make the best of it.

Kneeling back down, she dug into the ground with the spade Rosamond had given her. “If you come across runners, don’t worry about cutting them. I can tell these are hardy flowers, surviving out here in this climate, so they’ll be fine. Just be sure you keep enough soil around each cluster of roots. We’ll wait to separate the roots until we’re ready to plant them in Mrs. Northam’s garden.”

Maisie dug into the ground with enthusiasm, while Rosamond proceeded with more care. Susanna reasoned it was because the flowers were for her mother. Nate situated himself on a rough woolen blanket on a patch of grass, propped himself back on his elbows and chewed on a green blade. When Susanna glanced over at him, he grinned in that dangerous way of his and touched the brim of his hat. She wanted to say
Stop that!
But that would only reveal the effect his smiles had on her and encourage him to keep it up.

After an hour or more of digging up the plants, wrapping the roots in burlap squares and dousing them with water from their canteens, the girls joined Nate on the blanket. They removed their gloves and splashed more water over their hands, then unpacked sandwiches, cold chicken and potato salad, a jar of pickled vegetables and another jar filled with cold coffee.

Once they’d finished their picnic, the other girls wandered off, chatting in their usual way. Susanna knew she should go with them, but her feet still ached, the pain made worse by the narrow boots she never should have borrowed.

“My, just look at those puffy little clouds.” Nate tipped his hat back and stared upward. “Looks like a flock of sheep.”