Mail Order Cowboy

Chapter Four

What a woman, Nick marveled, after they’d carried the still-unconscious old man into the spare bedroom and settled him on the fresh sheets. Not only had Milly Matthews not succumbed to a fit of the vapors while she watched him pull out the arrow shafts and the blood welled up onto the skin, but she quickly halted her sister from doing so as well. None of the English ladies of his acquaintance would have done as well as she did. His admiration for her grew apace, right along with his desire to get to know her better.

Now, of course, was not the appropriate time to ex press such sentiments. “We’ll have to keep an eye on those bandages over the wounds, in case he continues to bleed,” he told Milly. “And watch for fever.” He knew he did not have to tell her that neither would be a good sign—though fever was almost inevitable. Right now, at least, only a very small amount of dried blood showed through on the white cotton.

“We’ll set up watches,” she said in her decisive manner. “I’ll take—”

They all tensed when the sounds of pounding hooves reached them through the open window. Nick grabbed for the shotgun, which he’d gone back outside for as soon as they’d laid the old foreman down on the bed.

“Oh, my heavens, are they back to kill us, too?” Sarah cried, shrinking into the corner.

But Milly strode over to the window and flicked aside the homemade muslin curtains. “It’s the posse from town. Maybe they’ll be in time to catch those thieving Comanches and get our cattle back.” From the slumped set of her shoulders, though, it didn’t look as if she believed it.

A minute later, the men clomped inside, spurs clanking against the plank floor, bringing with them the smells of horses and leather and sweat. Milly went into the kitchen to meet them, and he heard her telling them about Josh’s injuries and how “the Englishman” had pulled the arrows out of the foreman.

All nine of them were soon tramping back into the spare bedroom to see Josh for themselves—and to satisfy their curiosity about the foreign stranger, Nick assumed.

Milly introduced each one to him. They were an assorted lot, some were tall, some short, some had weathered faces and the lean, wiry-legged build of men who spent much time in the saddle. Others were paler and slighter, like shopkeepers. A couple seemed about the same age as Nick; three were younger, boys really, and the rest had graying or thinning hair. All of them nodded cordially to Nick, and all appeared dressed to ride except for the oldest, whom he had seen climbing out of a two-wheeled covered buggy.

“And last but not least is Doctor Harkey,” said Milly, indicating the older man now bending over Josh and peering under the bandages. Doctor Harkey straightened as his name was called, and reached out a hand to Nick.

“You did well, it appears,” he told Nick. “Doubt I could’ve done better myself, though of course only time will tell if old Josh will survive his injuries,” he added, looking back at the unconscious man. “Are you a doctor?”

“Nothing like that, sir, but I’m thankful to hear you don’t think I made things worse,” Nick said.

“He was a soldier in India,” Milly informed the doctor.

“I hate t’ interrupt, but are we gonna stand around jawin’ or are we gonna ride after them Comanches?” asked a beefy, florid-faced middle-aged man. “While we’re talkin’, those murderin’ redskins ’re gallopin’ away with them cattle.” He punctuated his words with a wide sweeping gesture toward the outside.

All the men of the posse straightened and started heading for the door.

Nick stood. “I’d like to go along, if you gentlemen don’t mind. I can use their shotgun, and I have my pistols. That is, if you feel you’ll be all right here, Miss Matthews.”

Milly nodded, obviously surprised by his announcement.

Doctor Harkey stood up. “I’m staying here at least until the posse returns. Josh needs me more than they do.”

The men of the posse looked dubiously at Nick. The beefy man found his voice first. “That’s right kindly of you, stranger, but y’ ain’t exactly dressed fer it,” he said, eyeing Nick’s blood-stained black frock coat and trousers. “And we didn’t bring no extra horse.”

“That’s my bay standing out there next to the wagon, still saddled. And this suit is probably already ruined, so it makes no difference.”

“We can get him some of Josh’s clothes—they’re about the same size,” Milly said. “Bobby, run and fetch them.”

The youth, who had been standing by the door, did as he was told, gangly arms flying, boot heels thudding on the floor.

“And he could use Papa’s rifle,” Sarah said, springing up from her seat. “I’ll go get it.” She excused herself as she pushed past the men.

The beefy-faced man turned back to Nick. “We’ll wait five minutes, no longer, Brookfield. And I’ll warn you, we’ll be ridin’ hard and waitin’ for no one. This ain’t gonna be no canter in th’ park. You fall behind, you’re on your own.”

“You needn’t concern yourself—I can keep up,” Nick informed him coolly, holding his gaze until the other man looked away first.

Five minutes later, dressed in the old foreman’s denims, work shirt, boots and floppy-brimmed hat, he was galloping across the field with the rest.

“He’s quite remarkable, your Mr. Brookfield,” Sarah said, as they looked through the window in the spare bedroom as the riders became swallowed in the dust in the distance. She had relaxed now that the doctor arrived and old Josh was sleeping peacefully. “Why, he just took charge, didn’t he? I never would have imagined someone dressed like a greenhorn could act so capable.”

“And that English accent,” Caroline put in with a dreamy sigh. “I reckon I could listen to him talk for hours…”

“He’s not my Mr. Brookfield,” Milly corrected her sister. She did not want to admit to anyone, just yet, how impressed she had been with the way Nicholas Brookfield had jumped right into the midst of their troubles. She would not have expected any man who’d come to town with the simple purpose of meeting a gaggle of unmarried ladies to do as he had done, doctoring a gravely wounded man, and riding with men he had never met in pursuit of the savages. And she supposed if she had nothing else to think about, the Englishman’s accent did fall very pleasantly on ears used to Texas drawls. But right now she had to wonder how they were going to survive, so she couldn’t think about such frivolous things.

“Caroline, I can take you back to town in the buckboard, if you want,” she said, changing the subject. “The horses are still hitched up.”

“No, thank you, not with a bunch of wild Indians in the area,” the postmaster’s daughter said. “Besides, I’ll just wait ’til Papa comes back with the posse and ride back with him. Meanwhile, I’ll make myself useful around here. Sarah, why don’t we go see what we can whip up for supper? Doc Harkey, you probably missed your dinner, didn’t you?”

The old physician looked up from Josh’s bedside. “I did, because Maude was at that meeting with y’all. She said she’d fix it as soon as she got home…but of course no one could’ve foreseen what happened. Anything will be fine for me, girls. I’m not picky. Josh’ll need some broth tomorrow, but I imagine he won’t be taking any nourishment tonight.”

“While you two are doing that,” Milly said, “I’ll unhitch the buckboard, then see if I can wash the blood out of Mr. Brookfield’s clothes. I’m sure glad he could wear Josh’s clothes. He must not know how the mesquite thorns and cactus would rip that fine cloth to shreds.”

“Take a pistol outside with you,” Sarah admonished, “just in case.”

Milly was sure she had just nodded off beside the old cowboy’s bedside when she was awakened by the sound of a cow bawling from the corral.

I must still be dreaming, because the Indians took all the cattle and most of the horses yesterday.

Then the door creaked open. The gray light of dawn—it had been midnight when she had sent the doctor to sleep in their father’s bed—illuminated the dusty, rumpled figure of Nicholas Brookfield, while from the kitchen wafted the sound of her sister’s voice mingling with the low voices of the other men and the smell of coffee.

“Did you…did you catch them?” she finally asked, though his weary eyes had already telegraphed the answer.

“No. We followed them until their tracks split up, each pair of horses following some of the cattle. We would’ve turned back sooner if the moon hadn’t been full, but it was too dark to track. By that time we were considerably far from here, so we’re just now getting back. But the good news is that either they missed some of the cattle and horses, or some managed to break away, because we found several along the way. So we rounded up a score or so of cattle and half a dozen horses.”

Milly straightened, fully awake now. “That is good news. Better than I’d dared hope for.” At least they wouldn’t starve, although she’d hoped to sell the full herd to a cattle drover next spring. Now they might have to sell some of the horses to buy more stock. In time, more calves would be born, and the herd would grow again—if the Comanche left their ranch alone. But raiding Indians were a fact of life in this part of Texas, and probably would be for a long time to come. Until the Federal army managed to contain them in reservations or kill them, one took his chances with the Indians or moved elsewhere.

“How is he?” he asked, nodding toward the supine figure on the bed.

“He had a restless night,” Milly answered, her gaze following his. “The doctor gave him some laudanum before I took over, and got some willow bark tea in him while he was lucid, for the fever, but he’s been sleeping since then. He hasn’t had any more bleeding.”

“Thank God for that,” he said, rubbing a beard-shadowed cheek.

“Yes. And you’ve done more than I could’ve possibly asked for, Mr. Brookfield,” she said, giving him a grateful smile. “I smell breakfast cooking out there. Why don’t you join the other men and eat, and then I’ll hitch up the wagon and take you back to town. Or you could take a nap in the bunkhouse first, if you’d like. You must be exhausted.”

“I’m not leaving, Miss Matthews,” he informed her. “You’re going to need some help around here, while your foreman convalesces.”

“But…but you’re not a cowboy,” Milly said. “You said you had a position waiting for you in Austin. I couldn’t possibly ask you to—”

“You haven’t asked. I’ve offered. And I couldn’t possibly leave two women to cope alone out here, with nothing more than a lad to help you,” he said reasonably. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“But I could probably get someone from around here to help, until Josh is back on his feet,” she said, not wanting to think about the possibility that Josh might not be able to resume his responsibilities. He wasn’t out of the woods yet, and wouldn’t be for a few days, Doc Harkey had said. He could still die if infection set in. “You know nothing of handling cattle and all the rest of the things a cowboy does.”

“I can learn,” he insisted stubbornly. “Bobby can teach me, and in time, Josh can, too. As for the men around here, it sounds as if they all have their own ranches to tend. Most of them thought you should sell out and move into town,” he said. “Mr. Waters said something about making you an offer,” he said.

Milly blinked. It didn’t surprise her that Bill Waters saw this attack as a good time to persuade her to sell her property to him. He’d always wanted the Matthews property, because it abutted his land but had better access to Simpson Creek.

“Now, if you want to do that, I’d certainly understand,” Nicholas went on. “But I got the idea you wanted to stay here. And in that case, you’ll need me.”

She stared at him while he waited calmly, watching her. Should she take him up on his offer? Could she trust him, or would he disappear as soon as he realized what a hard life he was signing up for, even temporarily? Was he just trying to impress her with his generosity, in an effort to woo her, to get her to let her guard down? Might he try to take liberties with her once she was depending on him?

“If you would feel more secure about allowing me to stay on and help you,” he began, “you may dismiss what I said in the churchyard before all this happened, about getting to know you better. I know you have a lot on your mind right now besides courting, and if you only want me to serve as a cowhand, I believe you call it, and a guard to protect you and your sister, I’ll understand.”

“I…I don’t know what to say,” Milly managed at last. “What you’re offering is…more than generous.”

“Girl, I think you better take him up on it,” a voice rasped from the bed beside them, and they both started.

“Josh, you’re awake!” she cried. How long had he been listening? “How do you feel?”

“Like I been stomped on by a herd a’ cattle with hooves sharp as knives,” Josh said, smiling weakly. “With a little luck I reckon I’ll make it, though. But it’s gonna be a while afore I’m fit t’manage this here ranch an’ keep young Bobby from daydreamin’ the day away. This here Englishman’s willin’ to help you out, so I reckon you should accept an’ say thank you to the good Lord fer sendin’ him.”

Chapter Five

Before Josh had begun speaking, Nick had watched the conflicting emotions parading across Milly’s face—doubt, trust, fear, hope. Now, at the old cowboy’s urging, the battle was over and trust had won—trust in old Josh’s opinion, if not in Nick himself, as yet.

“Josh has never steered us wrong,” she said, smiling down at the old cowboy and then back at Nick. “So I will take you up on your very kind offer, Nicholas Brookfield, at least until Josh is back on his feet.”

He gave both of them a brilliant smile, then bowed. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m honored. I shall endeavor to be worthy of the trust you’ve placed in me.”

Milly looked touched, but Josh gave a chuckle that had him instantly wincing at the movement to his ribs. “Boy, that was a might pretty speech for what you just signed up for—a lot a’ hard work in the dust and heat.”

“I’ll be very dependent on your advice, sir.”

“I—I can’t pay you anything for the time being,” Milly said apologetically. “Just your room and board.”

“My needs are simple,” Nick said. “Room and board will be plenty.” He was only a third son of a nobleman, but he still wasn’t exactly a pauper, so he had little need of whatever sum most cowboys were paid a month beyond their keep. He would have to write to the bank in Austin that was handling his affairs and notify them that his address would be in Simpson Creek, for now.

“I suppose you could have my father’s bedroom when the doctor leaves…” Milly mused aloud.

“That won’t be necessary,” he replied quickly. “The bunkhouse will be fine for me.”

Her forehead furrowed. “But…surely you’ve never slept in such humble circumstances,” she protested. “I mean…in a bunk bed? I imagine you’re used to much better, being from England and all.”

He thought for a moment of his huge bedchamber back home in East Sussex at Greyshaw Hall, with its canopied bed and monogrammed linen sheets, and his comfortable quarters in Bombay and his native servant who had seen to his every need. Yes, he had been “used to much better,” but he had also experienced much worse.

“Miss Matthews, I told you I was a soldier until recently, and while on campaign I have slept on a camp cot and even on the ground. I assure you I will be fine in the bunkhouse. Besides, I cannot properly be a cowboy unless I sleep there, can I?” he asked lightly, knowing it had been innocence that had led her to offer him her father’s old room.

“But—”

“Miss Milly, you can’t be havin’ him sleepin’ in the same house with you two girls,” Josh pointed out, with a meaningful nod toward the kitchen, from where the sounds of conversation and the clinking of silverware against plates still floated back to them. “Once the gossips in town got wind a’ that, they’d chew your reputation to shreds.”

Nick could see that in her effort to be properly hospitable, Milly hadn’t thought of how it would look for him to stay in the house.

“He’d best sleep out in th’ bunkhouse, where the greatest danger’ll be my snorin’, once I get back on my feet,” Josh said with a wink.

“It’s decided, then,” Nick said. All at once his long night in the saddle caught up with him and before he could catch himself, he yawned.

“Good heavens, I’d forgotten how exhausted you must be, Mr. Brookfield!” Milly exclaimed. “You’ve been up all night! Go on out to the kitchen and get yourself some breakfast, like I said, while I take some sheets out to the bunkhouse and make up a bed for you,” she said, making shooing motions.

He remained where he was for a moment. “I suppose if I’m going to work for you, Miss Milly, you had better start calling me Nick,” he said, holding her gaze.

He was delighted to see he could make Milly Matthews blush—and such a charming blush it was, too, spreading upward from her lovely, slender neck to her cheeks and turning them scarlet while her eyes took on a certain sparkle. Immediately she looked away, as if she could pretend by sheer force of will that it hadn’t happened.

He saw Josh watching this little scene, too, but there was no censure in the old cowboy’s gaze, only amusement.

“You’d best hurry on out to the kitchen like Miss Milly said, Nick. The way those galoots out there eat, they’re liable not to leave you a crumb.”

Snatching up clean, folded sheets from a cedarwood chest in the hallway, Milly followed Nick. Caroline Wallace was in the kitchen, pouring coffee. She and the handful of men standing around forking scrambled eggs from their plates nodded at her or mumbled “Good morning.”

Threading her way through them, she found Sarah at the cookstove, talking to Doc Harkey.

“How’s Josh?” Sarah had taken the evening watch, but she was no night owl, and had gone to bed when Milly relieved her. But Milly was never at her best in the morning or at cooking, so she was grateful Sarah was up with the sun and feeding the hungry men.

“Awake. I can tell he’s going to make it, ’cause he’s already ornery,” Milly said with a laugh.

“I’ll go in and have a look at him,” Doc Harkey said, and waded through the throng of men toward the back hall.

Sarah looked questioningly at the armload of sheets Milly carried.

“Mr. Brookfield has very kindly offered to stay on and help us while Josh is laid up,” she said, keeping her tone low so only Sarah could hear, and nodding toward Nick. He was talking to one of the other men while spooning clumps of scrambled eggs onto his plate to join a rasher of bacon and a thick slice of bread. “I’m just going to make up a bed in the bunkhouse for him.”

“I see.” Sarah’s knowing eyes spoke volumes and she grinned. “Well, isn’t that nice of him? You have your very own knight in shining armor.”

“Yes, we do,” Milly corrected her in a quelling tone. “It is very kind of him, though he’s never done ranch chores before. But he seems to think Josh can advise him and Bobby can show him what he needs to do.”

“He seems like the kind of man who can do anything he sets his mind to,” Sarah commented. “All right, you go make up the bed, but once these fellows go home, you go on to bed.”

“Oh, I slept a little in the chair,” Milly protested. “I’ll be all right.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t enough.”

“Thanks for handling breakfast,” Milly said. “How did you ever manage?”

“The eggs were from yesterday morning, the bacon from the smokehouse. I’m sure I don’t know what we’re going to do after that. I found a few hens roosting in the trees, and that noisy rooster, but I’m sure the barn fire killed the rest of them.”

“We’ll make it with God’s help, and one day at a time,” Milly said, determined not to give way to anxiety. Only yesterday morning Sarah had been gathering eggs, while she had been planning a meeting to marry off the women in Simpson Creek. Now she had bigger problems to worry about.

“You’re right, Milly,” Sarah said, squaring her shoulders. “I guess we won’t be eating chicken for a while until the flock builds up again.”

“Or beef,” Milly said.

“We’ll have to send Bobby to look in the brush. Maybe some of the pigs made it.”

Weariness nagged at Milly’s heels by the time she finished making up the bed in the bunkhouse and trudged back across the yard. The men who’d ridden in the posse were in the process of departing, some saddling their horses, some already mounted up and waiting for the others. Caroline was riding double with her father.

At Milly’s approach, Bill Waters handed his reins to Amos Wallace and headed out to intercept her.

“Mr. Waters, I want to thank you for taking charge of the men and doing your best to find our cattle,” she said, extending a hand.

“You’re welcome, little lady,” he said in his usual bluff, hearty manner. “I’d do anything for Dick Matthews’s daughters, and that’s a fact. Wish we could’ve caught them thievin’ redskins and gotten all of the cattle and horses back, instead of just some.” He shrugged. “It’s a shame this has happened, it surely is,” he said, gesturing at the charred remains of the barn, from which a wisp or two of smoke still rose. “Now, I think you ought to reconsider my offer to buy you out. You could find rooms in town, take jobs…or move on to some big city somewhere. Don’t you see it’s the only sensible thing to do now that this has happened?”

“Thanks, Mr. Waters. We’ll think about it,” she said, as she had so many times before, ever since Pa had died. She saw by his exasperated expression that he knew she was only being polite.

“You need to do more than just think about it. Your pa would want me to make you see reason, I know he would!”

He was getting more red in the face as he talked. A vein jumped in his forehead. Milly fought the urge to pluck the hanky he had sticking out of his pocket and wipe his brow.

“The good Lord knows I’d hoped somethin’ might grow between my boy Wes and you or Sarah, once the war was over. But it didn’t work out that way.”