Louise M. - Cowboy to the Rescue

“Now, don’t worry about that.” Nate grinned. “I’m sure she’ll understand that you’ve been on the road.” He glanced toward the building. “But I’ll see what I can do.”

Mrs. Williams, the café owner, could not have been more accommodating. It seemed that the Northam name held much more power in this unnamed settlement than it did in Alamosa. Miss Pam, as she asked to be called, had a permanent smile etched in the lines of her slender face. She appeared to be around fifty years old, and her warm brown eyes exuded maternal kindness as she invited Susanna into her own quarters at the back of the café.

“Charlie—he’s my husband—he’ll see what your pa needs.” Miss Pam set a pitcher of warm water on her mahogany washstand. “You go ahead and clean up. Is that your fresh dress?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Susanna held up the one dress the thieves had managed to overlook in their destruction. They’d stolen her favorite pink calico, so this green print would have to do.

“It’s a pretty one.” Miss Pam gave Susanna a critical look up and down, her gaze stopping at her hair. “Do you have a brush?”

“No, ma’am.” She tried hard not to sigh, but a little huff escaped her. Almost everything she depended upon to make herself look presentable was gone or ruined.

Miss Pam gave her a sympathetic smile. She reached into her bureau drawer and retrieved a boar-hair brush with a tortoiseshell back, holding it out to Susanna. “You take my spare one.”

“Oh, my.” Her heart warmed at this woman’s generosity. While Susanna could afford to buy her own if she found a mercantile nearby, it seemed best to accept the brush and pay Miss Pam back later. “Thank you.”

While she helped Susanna brush her hair and fasten the back buttons on her dress, Miss Pam chatted about the big anniversary party coming up in July. “Out here, we’re always looking for something to celebrate, but this one is going to be special. Colonel and Mrs. Northam have done so much for this community, bringing in a preacher and building a church, just generally taking care of everybody. The Colonel says he has a doctor arriving next month. Too bad he’s not already here for your pa, but Charlie’s pretty good at tending injuries, being a former mountain man. You know how they have to be self-sufficient living out in the mountains by themselves the way they do.”

Not giving Susanna a chance to comment, she went on to list various ways Nate’s parents had helped folks. Every word and tone suggested only respect and affection for the Northams, especially lauding the Colonel’s leadership, but that still did not diminish Susanna’s apprehensions about meeting the man.

In less than an hour, Susanna felt sufficiently refreshed, and Miss Pam’s husband had taken care of Daddy. Charlie offered his expert opinion that Daddy’s left leg was indeed broken, as were several of his ribs. He made a splint for the leg, wrapped torn sheets around Daddy’s ribs and gave him a dose of medicine to ease the pain. Nate told Susanna that while the community awaited the doctor’s arrival, Charlie was often called upon to help folks out.

After they had enjoyed some of Miss Pam’s delicious gooseberry pie with a splash of thick fresh cream over the top, they headed south. Unable to bear riding inside the schooner another minute, Susanna sat beside Zack on the driver’s bench watching the beautiful green landscape dotted with occasional farmhouses nestled among the trees.

In less than an hour, the two wagons passed under a majestic stone archway emblazoned with an intricate cattle brand and the name Four Stones Ranch. A long drive between two fenced pastures took them toward the two-story white ranch house built on a stone foundation. To one side were a giant red barn and numerous outbuildings. Susanna noticed the addition Nate had mentioned, also two-storied, on the north end of the main structure. A wide brook ran some fifty yards from the house, and young elm and cottonwood trees grew in clusters around the property.

Nostalgia swept through Susanna at the sight of the beautiful ranch. Back home, magnolias would be in bloom, and maybe a few spring gardenias would still be filling the air with their lovely perfume. Catching a whiff of roses, she searched without success for the source of the fragrance.

As if someone had blown a trumpet to announce their coming, several people poured forth from the barn, while a solitary man emerged from the house.

Nate jumped down from the wagon and gave instructions to his cowhands, who took charge of his wagon and drove it toward the barn. Then he turned toward the other man.

An older version of Nate, and just as tall as his son, the dark-haired Colonel exuded authority before he even spoke a word. Susanna could hardly breathe as she listened to Nate’s brief explanation for the presence of the prairie schooner and its inhabitants. All the while, the older man glared at her through narrowed eyes. No one had ever looked at her with such disdain, perhaps even hostility. Yet she didn’t dare reveal her own bitter feelings against this Union officer. Maybe it was just those feelings speaking to her mind, but he looked like someone who would chase women and children from their plantation house and burn it to the ground.

“So I thought they would make a fine addition to our community, Colonel.” Nate sounded a little breathless, and from the way his right hand twitched, Susanna thought he might salute his formidable father. “Being homesteaders, that is.”

The Colonel walked to the back of the schooner and threw open the flap, then returned to face Nate, eyeing his son with obvious disgust. “What’s the matter with you, boy? These are no homesteaders. Where’s their furniture? Where are their clothes? All I see is a pickax and two gold pans. Can’t you tell a money-grubbing prospector when you see one?”

Chapter Four

Nate saw the hurt in Susanna’s eyes and the way she cringed almost as if she’d been slapped. He ground his teeth as protectiveness once again roared into his chest. He had long ago learned that arguing with the Colonel was a useless exercise, but he’d never tried to beat some sense into the man. His hands ceased their nervous twitching and bunched into involuntary fists as if they wanted to do that very thing. Only by hooking his thumbs over his gun belt did Nate manage to control the impulse. How would he ever learn to control his temper when his father continued to rile him this way?

“Nathaniel!” Mother bustled out of the house and down the front steps, her fuzzy brown hair streaked with flour and her white cotton apron stained with jam. “You’re home at last.”

At the sight of her, Nate’s anger softened, replaced by the joy her presence always brought him. Spreading his arms, he welcomed her eager embrace. “Mother.” He held her tight and savored the aroma of fresh-baked bread that clung to her like perfume. Her nicely rounded form reminded him of Susanna’s need to put on a few healthy pounds. But if the Colonel had his way, the Anders family wouldn’t be enjoying any steaks at the Four Stones Ranch.

Mother leaned back and brushed a flour-covered hand over his cheek. “Angela and I have been baking all day, but I didn’t know when to have her cook your favorite— Oh! What’s this?” She broke away and moved toward the prairie schooner. “Why, Nate, you’ve brought us a guest.” She glanced at the Colonel. “Frank, help this young lady down so we can be properly introduced.”

Nate gulped back a laugh. His father never tolerated so much as a grin when Mother took charge this way.

“Of course, my dear.” His face a mask, the Colonel stepped over to the wagon and held out his hand. “Miss?” Even his offer sounded like an order.

Susanna eyed him with confusion, then gave Nate a questioning look. He returned a short nod, hoping she would accept the Colonel’s curt invitation. With a graceful elegance Nate hadn’t known she possessed, she lifted her chin like a duchess, then rose and stepped to the edge of the driver’s box to place her hand in his father’s.