Cowboy Lawman's Christmas Reunion. Louise M. Gouge
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Seamus O’Brien, who’d been shot by outlaws a few years before and never recovered enough to participate in the roundups, told Justice he’d have to check with Nate to be sure about a few of the new men.
This warranted a quick change of plans. If he hurried, Justice could ride to the smaller house and speak to Nate before the ladies reached home. As tempted as he was to bypass the place, he needed to do his duty. He spurred Thunder to a gallop and raced over the fields instead of wasting time by going back to the main road. He rode into the small barnyard behind the house and heard unmistakable sounds of a ruckus coming from inside the barn.
He dismounted and unbuttoned the strap securing his gun to its holster. Edging up to the partially open door, he peered in. Dismayed but not surprised, he saw Nate hauling Gerard over his shoulder toward a stall, where he set the struggling, hollering boy down with a thump.
Towering over the youngster, Nate fisted his hands at his waist. “Now you stay in here and don’t move.”
The boy crossed his arms over his small chest and said, “Make me,” as he had at the restaurant the day before.
“Need some help?” Justice stepped inside and towered over Gerard from the other side. Poor Evangeline, having to deal with a son who seemed determined to cause trouble. The boy needed a man’s strong hand to guide him.
“Hello, Sheriff.” Nate used his title, probably to intimidate Gerard.
While it wasn’t the way Justice preferred to interact with children, in this case it was probably best.
“Howdy, Nate.”
“Tell me, Sheriff, how do you deal with a boy who chases milk cows out of their stalls and shoots barn cats with a slingshot?” As he talked to Justice, he watched Gerard, whose eyes darted from one man to the other and back again. Still, his defiant expression remained unchanged.
“Well, Nate.” Justice scratched the back of his head, causing his Stetson to tilt forward. “My father used to tan my hide when I did anything that rotten.” It happened only once, which was enough for Justice to mend his ways. But then, his godly father had been easy to obey. Lucius might not have disciplined his son.
“Sounds like a good idea to me.” Nate reached out, but Gerard ducked into a corner of the stall.
Justice managed to grab his shoulder. “You ever had your hide tanned, son?”
“I’m not your son,” the boy screamed while trying to twist away.
“What’s going on here?” Evangeline stood in the barn doorway, her face pale.
Gerard broke away, rushed to her and threw his arms around her waist. “Mother, save me. They’re gonna kill me.”
She hugged him close and glared at Justice, then Nate. “I’ll repeat myself. What is going on here?”
To her credit, while Nate described the boy’s mischief, her face went from angry defender to embarrassed parent.
“If those cows get scared,” Nate said, “they’ll stop giving milk, which puts us all in a bad spot. And we need those barn cats to keep down the mice population because mice eat the grain that the cows need to eat.”
“I see.” She brushed a hand down her son’s face. “Now that you understand, will you promise not to do those things again?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Gerard said in a sing-song voice. He turned to face Nate and Justice and gave them a triumphant smirk. “May I go play now?”
“Not right now. First we’ll eat, and then we’ll go over to Marybeth’s to see the new foal. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
A tiny hint of vulnerability streaked across Gerard’s face. “Yes, ma’am.” Something akin to eagerness colored his words.
“If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen?” Evangeline ushered her son from the barn.
Nate exhaled a long breath and eyed Justice. “Don’t know what I’m going to do with that boy. I have to leave on Monday, and if he’s going to cause trouble for Susanna—”
Before he could stop himself, Justice blurted out, “Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“Thanks, Justice. That relieves my mind considerably.”
And yet the idea of riding herd on a recalcitrant brat, especially Lucius Benoit’s lookalike son, did anything but relieve Justice’s mind.
Evangeline studied her image in Susanna’s long mirror and brushed a whisk broom down the length of her bombazine gown to smooth out wrinkles and remove lint. Although black wasn’t her best color, she should have worn mourning while traveling instead of the light brown suit. Then perhaps Susanna wouldn’t be trying to play matchmaker, a useless endeavor, especially with Justice. After one bad marriage, Evangeline would never again put herself under the power of a man. However, with all of the children around, she hadn’t spoken to her cousin about the matter. To keep others from getting such ideas, she’d have to wear black whenever she went to town, both for church like today and for her work in the library.
Yesterday’s incident in the barn was alarming, especially when she saw how angry Nate was at Gerard for his mischief, even to the point of threatening her son. Justice stood there adding his official presence, which made matters worse. Later, Susanna explained to Evangeline how important this time of year was for the whole ranch because their livelihood depended on getting the cattle safely down from the mountain and to the trains. Before leaving, Nate needed to be sure his home was secure, not endangered by a boy who didn’t understand ranch life. Evangeline could accept that. She only hoped Gerard did, too.
She joined Susanna in the kitchen and donned the offered white apron.
“Will you beat the eggs, Evie?” Susanna stood at the blazing cast-iron stove and used a fork to turn bacon in her skillet. “The biscuits will be done soon.”
Evangeline looked around for the implements to do as she asked. All she located was a basket of dirty eggs on the work counter.
Susanna must have noticed her mild revulsion. “Wipe them off with a damp cloth.” She jutted her chin toward the sink where dishwater sat in a tin pan. “Then break them into a bowl and beat them with a fork.” Another jut of her chin pointed to a crockery bowl on a shelf.
“Very well.” Evangeline squeezed out a thin cloth and proceeded to clean the newly gathered eggs, trying to hide her disgust. A glance at Susanna revealed she was trying to hide a grin. Very well, indeed. If her cousin, who’d also been raised with cooks and servants, could overcome her squeamishness about henhouse soil, so could Evangeline.
After breaking the cleaned eggs into the bowl and removing the bothersome bits of shells, she took a fork and stirred them. While some yolks broke, the yellow refused to blend with the whites.
“Harder,” Susanna encouraged.
Evangeline obeyed with enthusiasm, causing yellow slime to splash on the hand holding the bowl. With her cousin still chuckling under her breath, she figured out how to modify the action, and soon the eggs were a consistent creamy yellow. “There.”
“Good.” Susanna carried a plateful of cooked bacon to the table, where Lizzie was showing Isabelle how to set around the silverware and plates.
Feeling a bit more confident, Evangeline took the bowl to the stove and started to pour the eggs into the pan on top of the bacon grease.
“Wait.” Susanna rushed to her side. “We have to drain it first.”
Evangeline managed to pull the bowl upright before much of the liquid eggs slid into the sizzling pan. Susanna dumped the greasy, unappetizing mess into a bucket beside the sink.
“Never mind, honey. The pigs will be