Louise Gouge - Cowgirl for Keeps

Roberts arched his brown eyebrows at her question. Visiting wealthy friends in Boston, she’d noticed that servants didn’t chat with the family of the house. No doubt that was also the custom in England. “He went with Mr. Morrow to watch the branding, miss.”

“Hmm.” Rosamond hid a grin. “To watch or to protect his employer?”

Roberts also hid a grin by laboring unnecessarily over the bacon. “I’d imagine both. Our gentlemen didn’t bring what you’d call work clothes, so it’ll be our job to repair any damage.”

A memory popped into Rosamond’s mind. Last night, Nate, Rand and Tolley traded looks suggesting they’d devised some initiation into the cowboy world for the Englishmen. She needed to eat before joining the branding, but she dearly wanted to see what mischief her brothers planned for their hapless victims.

“On second thought, I’ll just take this.” She picked up a beef and cheese sandwich, wrapped it in a napkin and tucked it in her pocket. With her coffee cup in hand, she headed for the door. On a hook by the back entrance hung her old hat right where she left it before going back East. Prepared to reenter her old life, she dashed out into the warm May sunshine.

And she’d try very hard not to laugh too much at whatever disaster fell upon stuffy Mr. Garrick Wakefield.

Chapter Three

Garrick, Percy and Richards perched on the fence of the labyrinthine corral to watch the Northam brothers work. Cattle branding was a messy, noisy business, but no more so than sheep shearing, which Garrick had observed every spring at Uncle’s manor. As heir presumptive, he’d spent his first eighteen years learning about his future responsibilities. Even after six years of knowing he wouldn’t inherit, he couldn’t put aside the habit of recording new knowledge, new experiences that might be helpful in the future. Of course, he’d never need to know about cattle branding. He’d never even dressed the deer or grouse he’d shot in Uncle’s park. The gamekeepers always did the dirty work.

Yet somehow, in spite of himself, he was impressed by the Northams’ personal involvement in the ranch work. They employed countless cowboys, yet stayed in the thick of the branding process. Garrick never touched a sheep, although his governess let him feel the freshly sheared wool. He suspected she enjoyed the waxy lanolin balm present in the wool.

“Hey, gents.” In the center of the corral, Nate raised a branding iron in the air. “Want to try it?”

“No, thank you.” Garrick couldn’t think of inflicting pain upon those young calves. At least sheep shearing was painless to the animals, even welcomed, for it removed their heavy winter coats.

“Yes.” Percy jumped into the corral. “I’d be delighted.”

“Sir?” Seated on the fence beside Garrick, Richards called out. “May I be so bold...?”

“Certainly.” Percy beckoned to him. “Come along.”

Richards hopped down and strode alongside Percy with a spring in his step, as though he were on his way to a picnic.

Garrick shook his head. Richards held one of the highest ranks possible for a servant. Why ever would he want to get his hands, not to mention his clothes, soiled with such menial work with dirty animals?

“Don’t you want to play?” Rosamond nimbly climbed the fence and sat beside Garrick. Pulling a sandwich from her pocket, she began to eat.

In spite of her boyish attire, his midsection did its usual dance. He really mustn’t allow himself to react this way. But how did one stop the involuntary feelings? How even to relate to her? He knew so little about young ladies. The aristocratic girls he’d known in his youth turned a cold shoulder to him once his newborn cousin replaced him as Uncle’s heir.

“Good morning to you, too, Rosamond.”

She laughed, a musical sound that reminded him of her merry song the day before. “Are you enjoying the show?” She tilted her head toward the action in the corral.

“That? Well, I must say I feel a bit sorry for those calves.”

If the rolling of her eyes was any indication, he’d said the wrong thing...again.

“If we didn’t brand them, they could be stolen and someone else could claim them.”

“Stolen? From right here on your father’s ranch?”

Another rolling of the eyes, this time accompanied by a shake of her head, as though he were a hopeless numbskull. “The ranch doesn’t grow enough hay to feed all the cattle year round, so the hands drive the herd up into the hills for summer grazing. Sometimes our cattle mingle with other herds, so the brands keep everybody honest.”

“Ah, I see.”

She polished off the sandwich in a rather dainty manner, considering the setting and her hoydenish garb. “You’ll excuse me?” She started to jump down.

“What? You?” Garrick felt an entirely different kick in his midsection—fear. For her. The actual branding wasn’t the hard part of this operation. The unwilling calves struggled violently to avoid their fate. What if she were injured?

“Yes, me.” She stayed on the fence. “These are my cattle and, like my brothers, I always participate in the branding.”

“Don’t you mean they’re your father’s cattle?” He’d say anything, no matter how annoying, to keep her from danger.

She huffed out a sigh. “Yes, my father’s, my mother’s, Nate’s, Rand’s, Tolley’s and mine. We’re all owners of the Four Stones Ranch.”

“Indeed.” Garrick eyed her doubtfully. “Are you saying your oldest brother won’t inherit everything?” Even for Americans, this idea was truly novel.

She gave him an indulgent smile. “That’s what I’m saying. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He still couldn’t let her go. “So the four stones in the ranch’s name are—”

“My brothers and I.”

Before he could climb down to assist her, she jumped to the ground and seemed no worse for the experience.

“Come on, Garrick.” She beckoned with a charming wave of her hand, and her invitation held a challenge he couldn’t refuse.

“Very well.” He jumped down beside her, and pain shot through his feet. Perhaps he should purchase a pair of those cowboy boots. If nothing else, his experiences on this ranch were sure to give him some much-needed exercise.

* * *

The way Garrick and Percy plunged into the branding impressed Rosamond. As with the train robbers, they proved themselves courageous in a new and dangerous situation. After an hour or so, however, she couldn’t understand why her brothers hadn’t pulled a prank on their guests. Then it happened. While helping Tolley hog-tie a reluctant calf, Garrick fell into a pile of cow droppings. Even though he laughed, his disgust was obvious when he excused himself and headed back toward the house. Rosamond felt a little sorry for him, but she felt sorrier for Roberts, who must restore those filthy trousers and shirt. She’d cleaned up similar messes all her life. Obviously, Garrick hadn’t.

However, she discovered herself a bit rusty at branding. The indolent years in Boston and her need to get used to the altitude took their toll. When she tried to pick up the heavy iron, she needed Tolley’s help so she wouldn’t cause her calf extra pain if she misapplied the white-hot brand. Winded far too soon, she begged off before the task was finished. Her ever-indulgent brothers praised her efforts and sent her back to the house.

“I say.” Percy fell in beside her. “What an exhilarating experience.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She couldn’t say the same about Garrick, so best not to mention him. “Richards seems to be enjoying himself, too.”

“Odd, that.” Percy laughed, clearly not troubled by his valet’s request to continue working with the hands. “By the by, are we still going to the Eberly ranch today?”