Laurie Kingery - Mail Order Cowboy

Doctor Harkey stood up. “I’m staying here at least until the posse returns. Josh needs me more than they do.”

The men of the posse looked dubiously at Nick. The beefy man found his voice first. “That’s right kindly of you, stranger, but y’ ain’t exactly dressed fer it,” he said, eyeing Nick’s blood-stained black frock coat and trousers. “And we didn’t bring no extra horse.”

“That’s my bay standing out there next to the wagon, still saddled. And this suit is probably already ruined, so it makes no difference.”

“We can get him some of Josh’s clothes—they’re about the same size,” Milly said. “Bobby, run and fetch them.”

The youth, who had been standing by the door, did as he was told, gangly arms flying, boot heels thudding on the floor.

“And he could use Papa’s rifle,” Sarah said, springing up from her seat. “I’ll go get it.” She excused herself as she pushed past the men.

The beefy-faced man turned back to Nick. “We’ll wait five minutes, no longer, Brookfield. And I’ll warn you, we’ll be ridin’ hard and waitin’ for no one. This ain’t gonna be no canter in th’ park. You fall behind, you’re on your own.”

“You needn’t concern yourself—I can keep up,” Nick informed him coolly, holding his gaze until the other man looked away first.

Five minutes later, dressed in the old foreman’s denims, work shirt, boots and floppy-brimmed hat, he was galloping across the field with the rest.

“He’s quite remarkable, your Mr. Brookfield,” Sarah said, as they looked through the window in the spare bedroom as the riders became swallowed in the dust in the distance. She had relaxed now that the doctor arrived and old Josh was sleeping peacefully. “Why, he just took charge, didn’t he? I never would have imagined someone dressed like a greenhorn could act so capable.”

“And that English accent,” Caroline put in with a dreamy sigh. “I reckon I could listen to him talk for hours…”

“He’s not my Mr. Brookfield,” Milly corrected her sister. She did not want to admit to anyone, just yet, how impressed she had been with the way Nicholas Brookfield had jumped right into the midst of their troubles. She would not have expected any man who’d come to town with the simple purpose of meeting a gaggle of unmarried ladies to do as he had done, doctoring a gravely wounded man, and riding with men he had never met in pursuit of the savages. And she supposed if she had nothing else to think about, the Englishman’s accent did fall very pleasantly on ears used to Texas drawls. But right now she had to wonder how they were going to survive, so she couldn’t think about such frivolous things.

“Caroline, I can take you back to town in the buckboard, if you want,” she said, changing the subject. “The horses are still hitched up.”

“No, thank you, not with a bunch of wild Indians in the area,” the postmaster’s daughter said. “Besides, I’ll just wait ’til Papa comes back with the posse and ride back with him. Meanwhile, I’ll make myself useful around here. Sarah, why don’t we go see what we can whip up for supper? Doc Harkey, you probably missed your dinner, didn’t you?”

The old physician looked up from Josh’s bedside. “I did, because Maude was at that meeting with y’all. She said she’d fix it as soon as she got home…but of course no one could’ve foreseen what happened. Anything will be fine for me, girls. I’m not picky. Josh’ll need some broth tomorrow, but I imagine he won’t be taking any nourishment tonight.”

“While you two are doing that,” Milly said, “I’ll unhitch the buckboard, then see if I can wash the blood out of Mr. Brookfield’s clothes. I’m sure glad he could wear Josh’s clothes. He must not know how the mesquite thorns and cactus would rip that fine cloth to shreds.”

“Take a pistol outside with you,” Sarah admonished, “just in case.”

Milly was sure she had just nodded off beside the old cowboy’s bedside when she was awakened by the sound of a cow bawling from the corral.

I must still be dreaming, because the Indians took all the cattle and most of the horses yesterday.

Then the door creaked open. The gray light of dawn—it had been midnight when she had sent the doctor to sleep in their father’s bed—illuminated the dusty, rumpled figure of Nicholas Brookfield, while from the kitchen wafted the sound of her sister’s voice mingling with the low voices of the other men and the smell of coffee.

“Did you…did you catch them?” she finally asked, though his weary eyes had already telegraphed the answer.

“No. We followed them until their tracks split up, each pair of horses following some of the cattle. We would’ve turned back sooner if the moon hadn’t been full, but it was too dark to track. By that time we were considerably far from here, so we’re just now getting back. But the good news is that either they missed some of the cattle and horses, or some managed to break away, because we found several along the way. So we rounded up a score or so of cattle and half a dozen horses.”

Milly straightened, fully awake now. “That is good news. Better than I’d dared hope for.” At least they wouldn’t starve, although she’d hoped to sell the full herd to a cattle drover next spring. Now they might have to sell some of the horses to buy more stock. In time, more calves would be born, and the herd would grow again—if the Comanche left their ranch alone. But raiding Indians were a fact of life in this part of Texas, and probably would be for a long time to come. Until the Federal army managed to contain them in reservations or kill them, one took his chances with the Indians or moved elsewhere.

“How is he?” he asked, nodding toward the supine figure on the bed.

“He had a restless night,” Milly answered, her gaze following his. “The doctor gave him some laudanum before I took over, and got some willow bark tea in him while he was lucid, for the fever, but he’s been sleeping since then. He hasn’t had any more bleeding.”

“Thank God for that,” he said, rubbing a beard-shadowed cheek.

“Yes. And you’ve done more than I could’ve possibly asked for, Mr. Brookfield,” she said, giving him a grateful smile. “I smell breakfast cooking out there. Why don’t you join the other men and eat, and then I’ll hitch up the wagon and take you back to town. Or you could take a nap in the bunkhouse first, if you’d like. You must be exhausted.”

“I’m not leaving, Miss Matthews,” he informed her. “You’re going to need some help around here, while your foreman convalesces.”

“But…but you’re not a cowboy,” Milly said. “You said you had a position waiting for you in Austin. I couldn’t possibly ask you to—”

“You haven’t asked. I’ve offered. And I couldn’t possibly leave two women to cope alone out here, with nothing more than a lad to help you,” he said reasonably. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“But I could probably get someone from around here to help, until Josh is back on his feet,” she said, not wanting to think about the possibility that Josh might not be able to resume his responsibilities. He wasn’t out of the woods yet, and wouldn’t be for a few days, Doc Harkey had said. He could still die if infection set in. “You know nothing of handling cattle and all the rest of the things a cowboy does.”

“I can learn,” he insisted stubbornly. “Bobby can teach me, and in time, Josh can, too. As for the men around here, it sounds as if they all have their own ranches to tend. Most of them thought you should sell out and move into town,” he said. “Mr. Waters said something about making you an offer,” he said.

Milly blinked. It didn’t surprise her that Bill Waters saw this attack as a good time to persuade her to sell her property to him. He’d always wanted the Matthews property, because it abutted his land but had better access to Simpson Creek.