Cowboy to the Rescue. Louise Gouge M.
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sir. I—” Mrs. Northam began.
“They won’t be here long,” the Colonel said. “I’m sure Anders is anxious to get on his way to the silver fields.” He waved Nate toward the wagon. “Get on in there and help him out.”
Instead of the instant obedience Susanna expected to see, Nate fisted his hands at his waist. “He’ll need to recuperate for quite a while before he goes anyplace. And they’ll need another team of horses.” His father started to respond, but Nate hurried on. “We need Mr. Anders to give us a good description of those horse thieves so we can put the word out to everybody. They’re a threat to the whole valley. If they get away with what they did, all sorts of criminals will think—”
“You think I don’t know that?” The Colonel silenced Nate with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Now, let’s get this done.”
Despite her outrage over the Colonel’s behavior, Susanna could not fail to be impressed by his and Nate’s strength as they lifted Daddy’s cot from the prairie schooner and carried it toward the house. Daddy was not a small man, so they set him down and summoned two men—she guessed they were called cowboys—to help carry the invalid up to the second floor of the house. Susanna didn’t have time to notice much as they entered and climbed the stairs, but what she did see impressed her with its beauty and grandeur, much like the mountains surrounding this high valley. While she wouldn’t call it a mansion, it certainly was an imposing domicile.
Within ten minutes, Daddy was resting in a charmingly masculine room, where guns and antlers decorated the walls, and pine furniture and woven rag rugs contributed to the rustic atmosphere. Above Nate’s handsome pine secretary, a glassed-in bookcase held several leather-bound books. Susanna didn’t take time to read the titles, but she longed to know what he read besides Dickens.
“And now for you, Miss Anders.” Mrs. Northam took Susanna’s arm and led her down the hallway to another bedroom very different from Nate’s. Frilly white curtains fluttered in the breeze wafting through the two windows. A pink-and-blue patchwork quilt covered the four-poster bed, and a blue velvet overstuffed chair sat nearby on a patch of carpet. The scent of roses filled the air, although none were in the cut-glass vase on the bedside table. “This is our daughter Rosamond’s room. When she returns from her friend’s house, she’ll be pleased to learn she has a roommate. Maisie’s coming with her to spend the night, but we can bring in an extra mattress.”
“You’re so very kind, ma’am.” Susanna’s eyes stung. Would these other girls truly welcome her? Would Rosamond be like her mother or more like her inhospitable father?
Sudden weariness filled her, and she eyed the feather bed with longing. As if reading Susanna’s mind, Mrs. Northam gave her a brief hug.
“Why don’t you lie down? I’ll send our girl Rita up to wake you when it’s time to eat.”
“How can we ever thank you?” And how could she think any evil of this sweet Yankee lady?
* * *
“I will speak to you in my office, Nate. Now.” The Colonel didn’t grant Mr. Anders so much as the courtesy of a parting word, but strode from the room toward the front staircase. The two cowhands followed after him.
Nate gritted his teeth as he watched his father leave. Pasting on a more pleasant expression, he turned to the bed where Mr. Anders lay, his gaze on Nate.
“You get some rest, sir.” Nate bent forward to adjust the quilt. “If you need anything—”
“You’ve done a lot, young man.” The look of approval in his eyes caused a stirring in Nate’s chest. How would it feel if his father looked at him that way? “You’re a true Good Samaritan, just like the Good Book says.”
Nate cleared his throat. He wanted to say aw, shucks, like his youngest brother might. Instead, he offered, “Don’t mention it, sir. I’m glad to help. We all are.”
Mr. Anders coughed out a laugh, then grimaced and clutched his ribs. “I wouldn’t say all, son, but I’ll let it go at that.”
Nate took his leave, shutting the door behind him and offering a prayer for the old man’s recovery. At the top of the stairs, he hesitated. The Colonel had ordered him down to his office, but Nate couldn’t just go off and leave Susanna. He walked to Rosamond’s room and tapped on the door just as Mother swung it open.
“Nate.” She reached up to give him another welcoming hug. “Oh, it’s so good to have you back home. I miss you so much when you make these long trips for supplies. I don’t know why your father can’t just send some of the hired men.” She cast a quick look at Susanna, and her eyebrows arched briefly. She opened and shut her mouth as though she had started to ask him something, then changed her mind. Instead, she patted his cheek. “I’m going downstairs to finish helping Angela and Rita with the baking. Then we’ll prepare supper. You may stand right here in the doorway and speak to Miss Anders for two minutes. Then I expect to hear your boots on the downstairs floor fifteen seconds after that.”
Nate pursed his lips to suppress a grin. “Mother, Susanna and I have been out on the trail together for two days, with her father looking on the whole time. You don’t have to worry about any improper behavior.”
“Susanna, is it?” Mother looked at her. “And I suppose you call him Nate?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Susanna returned a sweet smile. “That is, if you don’t mind.”
“Hmm.” Mother got a speculative gleam in her eyes. “No, dear, not at all.” She swept past Nate, wearing a soft grin and watching him the whole time as she headed for the back stairs that led to her kitchen.
All of a sudden, the kerchief around Nate’s neck seemed awfully tight. Mother often teased him about girls. It seemed to him that was what most mothers did to their sons. But she’d never said anything so bold in front of a young lady.
“I hope you don’t mind her.” He leaned against the doorjamb, crossed his arms and offered Susanna an apologetic grimace.
“Not at all.” She untied her bonnet and hung it on the back of Rosamond’s desk chair. “She’s very kind and hospitable.” Now serious, she leveled a steady gaze on him. “I’m afraid your father is not quite so pleased to have us as guests.” Biting her lower lip, she stared out the window. “Maybe we should go back to the café. It seems Mr. and Mrs. Williams would be—”
“No.” Nate spoke more sharply than he intended, and she blinked. “I mean, they’re the salt of the earth, but they run their place without help, so it might be a burden for them. We have servants and cowhands and a big family.” He rolled his hat in his hands. “Besides, I feel it’s my responsibility to see that your father gets back on his feet.” That thought had just come to him. Yet hadn’t the biblical Good Samaritan taken responsibility for the beaten merchant even after taking him to the inn? Nate knew he could do no less.
Susanna’s blue eyes were rimmed with tears. “I don’t know what to say.”
He barked out a laugh that didn’t sound quite as cheerful as he intended. “I do. We’re having steak for supper, and I can’t wait to bite into a big juicy one.”
Smiling again, she laughed, too. “You mean no beans?”
“Nathaniel Northam!” The Colonel’s voice thundered up the staircase.
Nate gave an artificial shudder. She didn’t need to know how much he was truly quaking inside over his father’s angry summons.
“That’s right. No beans.”
Her soft feminine laughter followed him all the way down the stairs, and he barely had time to wipe the grin off his face before stepping into the Colonel’s office for his scolding—undeserved but nonetheless expected.
Susanna’s laughter died