Cowboy to the Rescue (8 page)

“Humph.” Susanna eyed the same clouds. “I’d say they look more like a field of cotton bolls ready for picking.” Oh, would she never learn to stop teasing? Why hadn’t she simply agreed with him?

He chuckled, a deep sound that rumbled in his broad chest. “Well, seeing as how I’ve never seen a cotton field, I wouldn’t know.” He held out the coffee jar, silently offering to pour more into her tin cup, but she shook her head. “Did your father grow cotton in Georgia?” A strange little frown flitted across his brow, almost as if he wished he hadn’t asked the question.

For a moment, she considered her answer. Maybe if she mentioned how General Sherman’s troops had destroyed their cotton plantation, how they’d very nearly destroyed her family, it would expose the unbridgeable gulf between them. To gather her thoughts, she looked off to the southern hills, and a gasp escaped her.

Several Indians on horseback were staring down at them, and if their threatening demeanor was any indication, they were not at all pleased to see Nate and Susanna.

Fear shot through her.
Dear Lord, please help us!
Had she made it all the way across the country without a serious encounter with Indians only to die by their hands in this remote mountain valley?

Chapter Eight

N
ate stood and pulled Susanna to her feet. “Get behind me.” He tried to keep the tension from his voice. “I’m sure they don’t want trouble. They’ll ride away shortly.” He doubted that, but no need to alarm her.

He glanced in the direction Rosamond and Maisie had gone. They were running back through the columbines, determination on both of their faces. If he didn’t stop Maisie, she might shoot first and ask questions later. At least Susanna had the good sense to obey his order to move behind him. But as the Indians rode down the hill toward them, his chest tightened.

The girls reached him just as the Indians—Utes, more accurately—rode into the edges of the columbine field.

“Keep you gun in your holster, Maisie,” he said. “Let me handle this.” He understood why her father insisted she carry it, but along with teaching her how to shoot, he should have taught her to control her temper. “You girls help Susanna mount Sadie, then mount up.”

To his relief, all three girls obeyed without argument or comment. He would stay on the ground so as not to appear combative to the approaching men. Lifting his empty gun hand to wave—and to show good faith—he called out, “Greetings. It’s a fine day.”
Lord, please let one of them speak English or Spanish.

As they drew closer, he noticed they were leading extra horses, and cautious hope sprang up in his chest. This was a trading party, not a war party. In fact, the Utes had peacefully settled in the southwest corner of the San Luis Valley a few years back. But a man could never be sure younger men like these might not go on a tear over something or other, just as the Plains Indians did.

“Greetings.” One man returned Nate’s wave, but all of them were focused on the girls.

The hair on Nate’s neck stood up. Could he defend them against four men? Maisie would be some help, and Rosamond had a rifle on her saddle.

“We’re just headed home, so help yourself.” He gestured toward the columbines. Angela had told him that Indians used these flowers to spice up their food, but she wouldn’t have them in her kitchen because parts of the plant were poisonous.

“Wait.” The man who seemed to be the leader rode closer to Nate. “We had a fever last winter. Lost our wives.” He nodded toward the girls and held up the reins of the two horses he was leading. “You trade?”

Nate could feel the heat rising up his neck, but anger would only create problems. Besides, this was an honorable custom for these men. They meant no insult. Behind him, however, he’d heard Susanna gasp and Maisie snort. He could imagine Rosamond clapping a hand on her rifle, but he dared not look around to be sure.

“Now, friend, you know we don’t do that.” He decided to end the matter as quickly as possible. “Colonel Northam won’t appreciate your coming our way looking for wives. Why don’t you head down toward Santa Fe or the pueblos?”

The instant he’d mentioned the Colonel, all four men stiffened. Conferring among themselves, they turned their horses southward and rode away without a word. Nate heaved out a sigh, then turned to check on the girls.

Rosamond and Maisie continued to glare at the men, but Susanna’s face was as white as those clouds they’d talked about a few minutes ago.

“We’d best head back to the ranch.” Nate mounted up and gave Susanna what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Gotta get those flowers in the ground before supper. Go on, now.” He would stay at the rear, just in case.

The other girls led out, with Rosamond taking charge of the packhorse, but Susanna stuck close to Nate. He didn’t mind that at all, especially since his pride had suffered a pinch over having to use the Colonel’s name to close the matter with the Utes. But on second thought, he was grateful to be the son of a man whose name meant something to folks, at least in these parts. In times like this, he doubted he could ever leave the community, no matter how harshly the Colonel treated him.

He looked over at Susanna, whose face was hidden by her bonnet brim. “You doing all right?”

She cast a sassy little glance his way. “Now, Mr. Nate Northam, you were saying something about how cold it can get in Colorado? Did you ever come up with something clever, seeing you’ve had all this time?”

He laughed so hard, he almost choked, but part of that was probably pent-up feelings of relief over the safe ending to their encounter. As for Susanna, well, she was an amazing lady to recover so quickly from her fright and return to their earlier teasing. Fortunately, he had figured out a response. “I sure did. That winter, it was so cold that when I went to milk the cow, she gave me ice cream instead.”

* * *

Susanna rewarded him with a soft laugh and a tight smile. “I guess that’ll do, since you can’t come up with anything better.” She turned away from him to hide behind her bonnet again. If she said anything more or tried to control her quivering lips, she might burst into tears. She’d had enough trouble saying those few sentences, hoping to divert Nate’s attention from her terrified reaction to the Indians.

Never in all her life had anyone looked at her as those men had. But she’d seen that expression before. Back home, men studied horses or dogs or items in Daddy’s mercantile with that same speculative look as they considered whether or not to make a purchase. Sometimes she’d even seen men, not gentlemen, of course, but others, studying women that way. But she had never been the object of such bold stares. Even Colonel Northam’s rude looks had acknowledged her as a person, no matter how unwanted a guest she was in his home. And now she could not even begin to describe the feelings churning about inside her. She was not a piece of merchandise, not something to be bought and sold at the whim of other people.

Something nagged at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t pull it forward into her conscious thoughts. Something that happened a long time ago when she was very small, before the Yankees came and destroyed the South and her family’s way of life. A slave auction, that was what it was. She wasn’t supposed to see it, but she’d wandered away from Mama on a shopping trip to Atlanta and come face-to-face with another little girl, a dark-skinned one, on sale just like a horse. For the first time in her life, she understood the terror in that child’s eyes. And not for the first time, she was grateful slavery had been abolished, especially for the sake of that little girl.

“Say, Susanna.” Nate’s overly cheerful voice cut into her thoughts. “I think Angela’s cooking up some of her excellent chili for supper tonight. Have you ever eaten chili?”

Using a trick Mama had taught her, she took several quiet, deep breaths to steady her nerves before she answered him. “My, my, is food all you think about? First ice cream, then chili?”

He laughed, again sounding a bit too cheerful. Her brother had used that same tone when she’d confided her fears about the trip west and he’d done his best to calm her worries. Bless Nate for showing such brotherly concern for her. “After eating Angela’s chili, I think we’ll all agree that ice cream is just the thing to cool us off.”

Susanna surrendered to a real laugh, and it felt good deep inside. They were all safe, and just as some of the dangerous incidents that happened during the trip west, this one needed to be put behind her. If it could.

* * *

After tending to the horses, Nate wandered over to the flower bed to see how the transplanting had progressed. Both Rosamond and Maisie appeared to be covered with dirt from head to toe, but Susanna didn’t have so much as a smudge on her cheeks. Once again, her characteristic elegance brought the word
duchess
to his mind. One of these days, he was going to slip and call her that. Such a blunder would reveal how tender his heart was growing toward her, which would be a big mistake. He just couldn’t afford to fall in love, not until he had matters settled in his own life, especially his anger toward the Colonel. Maybe the only way to avoid trouble was to tease Susanna some more.

“You girls about got this job done?” He plopped himself down on a nearby cottonwood stump and pulled out his folding knife to whittle on a stick. “I just unsaddled and brushed down five horses all by myself, got ’em fed and watered and sent out to pasture. Seems like the three of you could manage to stick a few flowers in the ground in all that time.”

Rosamond and Maisie traded a look, and he knew he was in trouble. He didn’t know which one lobbed the first handful of mud at him, but before he could put away his knife and take off running, he found himself being bombarded with wet dirt from both sides by giggling girls. No matter which way he tried to escape, they cut him off like cow ponies corralling a calf and rubbed soil into his hair and down his shirt.

“Help me, Susanna.” He managed a glance in her direction, only to find her backing away from the scene, her expression going from dismay to amusement and back to dismay again. She’d probably never in her life been in a mud fight. Before he could stop himself, he snagged up a handful of wet dirt and slung it at her.

She nimbly sidestepped. “Ha. Missed. Now, Nate Northam, don’t you dare—”

Splat!
A wad of mud struck her cheek. She stared in disbelief at a blissfully guilty-looking Maisie. The shock on Susanna’s pretty,
dirty
face was a sight to behold. Nate almost fell over laughing, but he thought it best to stay upright to defend himself.

“Well, I never!” Susanna’s indignant tone matched her regal bearing. “The very idea!”

Everyone else froze, while disappointment pinched at Nate. Surely, a little mud couldn’t offend her that badly.

“Oh, dear.” Maisie looked stricken. “I’m so sorry.”

Rosamond hurried to Susanna’s side. “Here, let me help you.” She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and started to dab away the offending dirt.

“Never you mind.” Susanna politely took the white cloth and scrubbed it across her cheek, leaving a streak of gray. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have flowers to finish planting.”

She walked slowly to the flower bed, where about half of the columbines had been planted and the rest of the separated clumps lay awaiting their new home. Something in her ambling gait dispelled Nate’s disappointment, but he held his peace and watched. Sure enough, Susanna knelt down and made a mud ball, and before he could blink, she sent it hurling through the air to land smack on Maisie’s chin.

Maisie shrieked louder than Nate had ever heard her, and then all three girls fell into a fit of laughter. He allowed himself to sit back down on the stump as they all looked around at each other and enjoyed the moment.

“You know, I thought for a bit that Nate was going to take those horses.” Rosamond wiped her sleeve across her face, causing more damage than repair. “But I couldn’t figure out which one of us he was going to trade for ’em.”

Both she and Maisie guffawed like cowpokes, and neither seemed to notice the horror on Susanna’s face.

“Now, girls, you know I wouldn’t—”

“Oh, my, what a mess.” Mother emerged from the side door and studied the scene, her hands fisted at her waist.

“Yes, ma’am.” Nate gave his sister a wicked grin. “These girls have been impossible to control all day long, and now look what they’ve done.”

Mother gave him one of her no-nonsense glares. “And of course, you’re entirely innocent. Well, I won’t have any of you leave the cleanup to Angela or Rita or any of the hands. You’ll clean up this yard, and you’ll do your own laundry.” The lilt in her voice belied her stern words. She started back toward the door, then stopped to study the flowers. “These columbines look lovely, girls. I’m sure they’ll recover from the shock of moving by the time we have our party.” Her voice softened, as it always did when she spoke about the big anniversary event. Nate couldn’t wait to see her face when the Colonel gave her the china. “Now, don’t forget tomorrow is Sunday, and we’re all going to church, so everyone will need a bath. Nate, you’d better get busy pumping and heating water and bringing it to the back porch.” She went back inside, shaking her head, but Nate had no doubt she was laughing to herself.

As for Susanna, he hoped this bit of tomfoolery had lifted her spirits after this afternoon’s fright. Once they cleaned up and sat down to supper, he could count on the Colonel to ruin any feelings of inclusion he and the girls had conveyed to Susanna.

Chapter Nine

W
rapped in a borrowed robe, Susanna hurried up the back stairs to Rosamond’s room. As the least dirty of the girls, she had taken the first bath and now had time to visit with Daddy while the other girls bathed. She couldn’t imagine what had gotten into her, participating in such a brawl.

Well, no, she really did know. Her first instinct had been to flee the scene when the girls started throwing mud at Nate. But when Maisie had impulsively included her in the fight, then looked so stricken by her own behavior, Susanna could not bring herself to add to the girl’s chagrin. In finishing school, Mrs. Sweetwater had taught that all good manners should be motivated by a desire to make the other person feel comfortable and to save him or her from embarrassment, no matter how awkward the situation.

The only way to save Maisie from humiliation had been to serve her a dose of her own medicine. Susanna was fairly certain Mrs. Sweetwater would have been shocked by the entire affair, but it certainly worked out well. Even Mrs. Northam found the whole scene amusing. And all of that foolishness showed Susanna that the other girls were as unnerved by the incident with the Indians as she was. They’d all had a good laugh, the best antidote to any fright, the best first step to any recovery.

As she entered Rosamond’s room, another memory of finishing school surfaced. In spite of all the manners taught there, the girls always had to initiate newcomers. Susanna’s initiation had included sugar in her reticule, which of course drew hordes of ants. By laughing it off, she’d won many friends. The same had happened today, and it felt good deep inside her. Even though the girls were Yankees.

Rita had laid out several of Rosamond’s outgrown dresses for Susanna to choose from. Her hostess was a few inches taller and a bit broader, but by no means too large. If anything, Mama would say Susanna was entirely too thin. She’d lost the last of her childhood chubbiness on the trail, and while she wouldn’t wish it back, she could afford to gain another pound or two in order to feel at her best.

She selected a blue print dress, then thoroughly brushed her windblown hair. Fortunately, no mud had lodged there, so she hadn’t had to wash it. Soon she was dressed, groomed and ready to visit Daddy. She found him propped up in the bed reading
Bleak House.

“You were asleep when I peeked in a while ago.” She pulled a chair up beside him. “Did you have a good day?” His clean-shaven cheeks had lost their gray cast, and his newly trimmed hair had restored his handsome appearance. Susanna could only be encouraged.

“Fair to middling.” He offered a weak smile, but his eyes exuded peace and a hint of amusement. “How was your day?”

Susanna hesitated. He appeared recovered enough to hear the truth, so she told him about the entire trip to the columbine field and back. No, not the entire trip. She could talk about the lovely flower field and the nice little mare she rode. She could minimize the dangers of the encounter with the Indians and her fright, though she could see the situation troubled him. She could even describe the mud fight, which gave him a good laugh that resulted in some pain in his ribs.

But she dared not tell him what a fine man Nate Northam was turning out to be. Not that he needed any further proof after Nate’s Good Samaritan actions in bringing them here. But she must not speak of her struggle to keep from caring too much for him. Daddy had been teasing her about beaux since she was born, but never about any of the young Yankee men who’d come around their prairie schooner in the wagon train. A few cold words had been sufficient to drive away their interest in her, so she could not,
would
not, dishonor him by forming an attachment to Nate.

“And what about your day?” Best to deflect any possible questions he might have. “What did you do?”

“As you can see, I’m in a bit better shape than when we arrived. It’s remarkable how much better a bath can make a man feel.”

Susanna gasped. “Angela gave you a bath?”

“Of course not.” He lowered his chin and gave her a chiding look. “You know my stance on such matters. Have you ever seen me do anything improper with a female servant?”

“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 responsibility. 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.