Louise Gouge - Cowgirl for Keeps

“Say, is vamoose proper grammar?” Tolley grabbed a handful of cookies from the serving platter on the table as he headed after Rand. “Or did the Colonel waste his money sending you to that fancy Boston school?”

Nate followed his brothers, beckoning to Garrick and Percy. “Come on, fellas. Let’s skedaddle before the hen party begins. We’ll show you around the place.”

“I say, that sounds capital.” Percy followed them, giving Garrick no choice but to do the same.

“Not so fast.” Susanna’s order stopped them all, and a significant look Garrick couldn’t decipher passed between her and Nate. “You can save that for tomorrow. These gentlemen are still in their nice travel clothes.”

“Maybe they’d like to see the house first.” Marybeth gave Rand the same look.

Now the older brothers eyed each other while Tolley huffed in annoyance, apparently eager to do those chores.

“Tomorrow. Right.” Nate seemed to be smothering a grin. “Gentlemen, we’ll see you at supper.”

The three men made their exit without argument, so Garrick concluded that the ladies gave the orders in this family. As much as a turn around the ranch might refresh him, he wouldn’t contradict either young Mrs. Northam by insisting upon going with their husbands. Percy didn’t seem to mind the change of plans. But then, very few things bothered him.

Susanna, a tiny blonde with an accent he recognized as from the American South, turned her attention to Rosamond. “We can manage supper. You take our guests on a tour of the house.”

“Oh, but...very well.” Miss Northam removed her apron. “Come along, gentlemen. We’ll start with the dining room.”

She led them through the swinging door by which they’d entered earlier. The room was surprisingly large, with a mahogany table long enough to seat twelve and matching sideboard and china cabinet, the same sort of furnishings Garrick planned to order for the hotel. Such luxuries could be a sign of Northam wealth. Possibly.

“I say.” Percy paused before the large glass front cabinet. “Wedgwood china, is it not?”

Miss Northam nodded. “Father gave it to Mother for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. It was the talk of the San Luis Valley.”

“I should think so.” The words, borne on a laugh, slipped out before Garrick could stop them. Miss Northam’s indignant look made it clear he’d offended her...again.

* * *

At Fairfield Young Ladies’ Academy, Rosamond had learned that one never made another person feel uncomfortable, even when that person was rude. After all, one couldn’t truly know what someone else was thinking. This man, however, was easy to read, even without speaking a word. His obvious disdain for her beloved Valley didn’t bode well for their working together. Why had he come here if he held Americans in such contempt?

She schooled her face into a tight smile. “Shall we go to the parlor?”

They followed along, with Percy making pleasant remarks about various bits of bric-a-brac or paintings, some of which Rosamond hadn’t seen before. Her parents must have purchased them in Italy when they’d traveled there last year for Mother’s health.

Some new furnishings also graced the parlor—chairs, side tables, figurines. It still felt like home to Rosamond. They passed through to the ballroom, which Nate had built five years ago for the twenty-fifth wedding-anniversary party. Mother loved to entertain, and many times the community gathered here for special events. Although not used daily, the room was spotless, probably due to the efforts of Consuela, the new housemaid. Mother had written about the young Mexican girl they’d employed to help Rita manage the house. Too bad no one had written to Rosamond about the hotel.

“What a charming ballroom.” Garrick’s expression appeared to reflect true admiration. “One would hardly expect...I mean...” He ran his hand over the carved mahogany balustrade beside the three steps descending into the room.

Rosamond withheld a laugh. Was he truly arrogant or merely socially awkward? “Why, thank you, Mr. Wakefield.”

He gave her a sheepish grin. “I heard you say first names are the custom here. Please call me Garrick.”

“I will.” She accepted his olive branch. “Please call me Rosamond.”

“A lovely name, to be sure.” His gentle tone surprised her. Was he trying to make amends? Or was she being too hard on him? “A family name?”

“No. I was named for Rosamond Oliver in Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre , Mother’s favorite novel.”

The pleasantries seemed to break the tension between them. Along with Percy, they spent the next half hour exploring the rest of the house, including Father’s office and library. He’d added many books while Rosamond had been away. “Feel free to borrow any of these to read at your leisure.”

“Ah, American authors.” Percy studied the names on the book spines. “Mark Twain, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Louisa May Alcott. I shall be delighted to read them.”

“And you, Garrick?” For a moment, Rosamond’s heart hitched with an odd sort of hope. How she wanted to hear he enjoyed reading as much as she did. But why? He wasn’t a potential suitor. Gracious, no, not when they seemed only to tolerate each other.

“Yes, of course.” He also perused the books. “One cannot graduate from Oxford without obtaining a great appreciation for fine literature.”

So much for her hopes of common interests. Oxford, indeed. She doubted his education was any better than her own.

And she was expected to consult with this arrogant man? It wouldn’t work. After supper tonight, she’d make Father understand that simple fact.

* * *

Garrick attempted to follow the conversation over supper, tried to speak when appropriate. But with ten adults around the table, some not schooled in the proper way to converse at mealtime, he didn’t have to try hard. The playful banter among the brothers and Rosamond helped them reclaim the years of separation. Unlike English customs, they found talking across the table acceptable instead of only conversing with the persons to one’s right and left.

Further, no one here dressed for dinner. Although the brothers washed hands and faces after their chores, they’d come to the table in their work clothes, dusty trousers and all. Nor did footmen serve the meal. Instead, the cook and the young ladies carried steaming bowls and platters to the table. Everyone passed the food around and served themselves. At least Garrick’s and Percy’s valets possessed the good sense to decline Mrs. Northam’s invitation to eat with the family, insisting upon eating in the kitchen with the cook. Perhaps Rita, the senior servant despite being quite young, could explain to Roberts and Richards how she ran the household so they wouldn’t get underfoot while tending to their own duties.

To Garrick’s relief, after supper the two older sons and their families departed for their nearby homes, leaving behind a measure of peace, as well as a minor concern. Guests in an English house were expected to participate in the evening’s entertainment: reporting the latest news, joining a game of whist, offering to read a favorite passage from a book. What did one do to amuse Americans in the evening? Travel weary though he was, he must somehow participate in whatever activities they offered or risk offending his host.

Colonel Northam soon put that concern to rest while igniting another. Like the military officer he’d been, he ordered Tolley to entertain Percy and sent Garrick and Rosamond to his office. Considering the young lady’s obvious dislike, Garrick steeled himself for an uncomfortable interview.

“Have a seat.” The Colonel waved them to leather chairs in front of his desk. Mrs. Northam sat beside her husband. “I know you’re both tired, so I won’t keep you long. Just want to give you some marching orders so you can get started on Monday. That’s the day I’m leaving on business, so it’s on your shoulders now.”