Mail Order Cowboy (Love Inspired Historical) (20 page)

T
he rest of August and September flew by. Every morning, as soon as the chores were done, the men would ride into town to work on the fort. They always left two of the men home with Milly and Sarah for their protection.

Milly worked at dressmaking mornings and afternoons, alternately her wedding gown and the dresses she was making for the mercantile. Each dress sold almost as soon as she brought it in, Mr. Patterson informed her. Milly was pleased to see her creations on the ladies of the town, and there were usually garments to be altered or mended waiting for her at the store, too.

While Milly sewed, her sister baked, both for the hotel and the mercantile. Both were pleased to watch the amount of money growing in their bank account.

At midday, Milly and Sarah interrupted their endeavors to drive the wagon into town, accompanied by one of the men, while the other kept watch over the ranch. While Sarah delivered pies and cakes to the hotel restaurant, Milly took her dresses to the mercantile, along with more of Sarah's baking. Then they took Nick and
the rest of their men their noon meal, and sat down with them to eat.

The other ladies of the town were doing likewise for their men. Members of the Spinsters' Club stopped by to chat with Milly and Sarah about the wedding preparations and the upcoming Founders' Day celebrations. Caroline and Emily flirted with their beaus, who were working right alongside the rest of the town to build the fort. Sarah and the other Spinsters compared their letters and speculated about the men who had agreed to come meet the ladies on Founders' Day.

Dr. Nolan Walker, the man from Brazos County with whom Sarah had been corresponding, had written her three times. His letters were short, and he mostly responded to what Sarah had written about her doings, but he didn't offer many details about himself. The fact didn't seem to bother Sarah much—“Men just don't write long detailed letters,” she told Milly. He claimed to be looking forward to meeting Sarah, and Sarah was satisfied with that, reminding Milly that he might decide he liked one of the other Spinsters better, anyway.

Her sister's calmness about the matter was typical of Sarah, Milly knew, but she thought it was a good thing Nick had just traveled to Simpson Creek and not corresponded with her first. She knew she would have plagued him with questions. Typical of all those in love who want others to feel that same joyous emotion, Milly hoped that the man from Brazos County would be the right man for Sarah.

Milly wasn't surprised that Bill Waters never came to the work site. Dayton and a few of the others participated from time to time, but when they did, they
ignored the Brown brothers. There was no changing some people's hearts, Milly mused, but if they helped build the fort and caused no trouble, that was all that mattered.

It did her heart good to see how the rest of the town had come to accept Elijah, Isaiah, Caleb and Micah, greeting them as they rode into town and at the site. Mrs. Detwiler had made them her own personal concern, plying them with extra sandwiches and cookies. As a result, the Brown brothers had lost much of the wary tenseness that had marked their expressions and had begun to smile, laugh and exchange pleasantries with the townsfolk. They even seemed to walk taller.

Ada came to the work site but rarely, and was either accompanied by Harvey, who apparently considered himself above manual labor, or spoke of meeting him soon for some outing. There was a strained quality to her. Milly wondered if she was still unsure of the Englishman's affection.

A detachment of the Fourth Cavalry, led by the same Major McConley whom Nick and Milly had encountered before, paid a visit when the fort was halfway done. The arrival of blue-coated soldiers alarmed some in Simpson Creek, but after talking to the mayor, Nick and several others at the building site, McConley reassured them that the Federals had no argument with the citizenry being ready to defend themselves against Indian attacks. He even suggested features to include in the fort.

The fort rose in height, foot by foot, behind Mrs. Detwiler's house, as summer faded into fall. It was clear it would not be completely finished by Founders' Day, though it was nearly so. The stone walls stood
two stories high, interspersed with narrow windows to fire through at the second-story level. These were reached by a stairway. There was no complete ceiling between the first floor and second floor, only narrow walkways. The heavy, metal-reinforced double doors had just been fitted into place. It could be bolted from the inside. There was a well in the center of the fort and a stone fireplace against the back wall. Beans and rice had been stockpiled against an interior wall in case of a prolonged siege.

By the week of Founders' Day, only the roof, which was to be tin so that flaming arrows could not set it afire, was not in place. The interior was big enough that everyone in town would fit inside, and all those who could reach the fort in time from the nearby ranches.

Milly was thankful as the building's completion drew near, but prayed the fort would never need to be used.

 

Founders' Day dawned bright and sunny. The intense heat of summer had metamorphosed into cooler nights and pleasantly warm days.

“I'm sure glad the original settlers didn't found this town in the middle of the summer,” Milly remarked as she settled herself on the driver's bench of the wagon next to Nick. Sarah was already sitting in the wagon bed along with Josh; Bobby and the Brown brothers had mounted their horses and would ride alongside as they drove into town for the festivities.

“There's a nice breeze,” commented Sarah, lifting her face to it as the wagon left the yard. She looked lovely today in a dress of cream-colored crossbar lawn sprigged with orange and yellow flowers. It had a lace-
insert bodice and a matching shawl for later if it grew cool. A very fitting dress for Sarah to wear to meet her prospective beau, Milly decided, for naturally she had made the dress. It would accent Sarah's lovely golden hair.

Even if her sister wouldn't admit it, Sarah was nervous, Milly thought, though only someone who knew her well would have guessed it by the way she kept playing with her topaz earbobs and pendant necklace.

Milly wore a new creation, too. Her two-piece dress featured a shaped peplum and alternating wide and narrow stripes of moss green sprigged with autumn leaves and solid burned orange. She couldn't wait to see everyone.

Turning onto the road, Nick snapped the reins to quick en the horses' pace, then, after he had transferred the reins to one hand, Milly saw him rub his forehead.

“What's the matter?” she asked. “Are you all right?”

He nodded. “Bit of a headache, that's all. Sarah made me some willow bark tea for it before breakfast, before you came into the kitchen.”

“You didn't tell me,” Milly said, feeling a frisson of worry skitter up her spine. She'd spent longer than usual over her toilette, wanting to look perfect today at the festivities, for they were going to announce their wedding date, the Saturday after Thanksgiving, and invite everyone to the ceremony. “Are you sure you'll be okay? It's not—”

“Not malaria,” he finished for her. “No, don't worry, Milly darling. Most times a headache is just a headache,
even for me. I have my quinine, just in case,” he said, pulling out a small flask from his shirt pocket.

“Most men who carry one of those would have whiskey in it,” she said with a chuckle.

They went to the fort first, for the festivities were to begin with a dedication and blessing of the unfinished fort by Mayor Gilmore and Reverend Chadwick, respectively. A midday picnic on the church grounds would follow and then games for the children—a fishing contest on the banks of Simpson Creek, foot races and sack races. Supper was to be a barbecue sponsored by the hotel, and for those who still had stamina after all that, the day would end with a concert put on by the Fourth Cavalry Regimental Band—a neighborly gesture, Milly thought—and end with fireworks at dark.

Dr. Nolan Walker had written he would probably arrive in town by noon, so Sarah had arranged that he would meet her at the midday picnic. But Prissy Gilmore dashed up to them as the ceremony was beginning.

“He's here! They're all here, all three of the candidates! I just happened to be leaving our house when these three nice-looking strangers came riding by, and asked if I could direct them to the church, so of course I did, and then I found out who they were! And then we ran into Jane and Maude, so of course I introduced them and said I'd come find you!”

“Well, are you going to tell me what he's like?” Sarah demanded, grabbing Prissy's hand. “Is he good-looking? Does he seem nice?”

Prissy grinned. “Rather handsome in a craggy sort of way, I'd say, and yes, he seems nice…”

“But what? There's something you're not telling me, isn't there, Prissy Gilmore? What is it?”

Prissy looked mysterious, her gaze straying sideways. “Well…there
is
something surprising about him…”

“What's that?”

“I'm not going to tell you. You'll just have to come meet him,” she said, grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary.

As Milly watched, Sarah's face went pale, then flushed as she clutched Milly's hands in hers. She was shaking. “Oh, Milly, this is it! Wish me luck!”

“Oh, I do…” Milly began, but Prissy was already pulling Sarah away with her.

“Come on, Nick, I want to see this man,” she said, urging him after them.

“Easy, there,” he said, pulling back. “Why don't we give your sister some privacy? I'm sure she'll introduce us to her beau, if she approves of him. Let's stay right here as we planned, and listen to the mayor and the reverend's speeches, and by the time we get to the churchyard, Sarah will be ready to introduce us to him, I reckon,” he said, winking as he gave a fair imitation of a Texas drawl on those last two words.

Milly was torn, but she knew Nick was right, so she settled down to watch the fort dedication.

Sarah was standing by herself, clearly waiting for them, when they arrived at the church grounds. Even from a distance she looked mad as a wet cat.

Milly hurried forward.

“I'm so angry I could spit, Milly!” Sarah cried. “Can you imagine? Nolan Walker's a
Yankee!
That's what Prissy was calling ‘surprising'! Of all the nerve—”

“But… She said he was nice…” Milly began. “Didn't he seem like a nice man?”

“Milly! There's no way I could consider getting to know a…a blue belly! A man who could have been the one who shot my Jesse! He
lied
to me, Milly!”

“Did he…are you saying Dr. Walker claimed to have fought for the South in his letters?” Milly asked, desperately trying to make sense of her sister's words. She'd never seen Sarah so furious.

“No! He mentioned being an army doctor, and tending the wounded, and that he'd even had to fight alongside the other men at times—he just didn't
bother
to tell me he'd worn blue, not gray—as if that wasn't important!”

“Sarah, dear, perhaps you should give him a chance…” Milly began uncertainly, taking hold of her sister's flailing hands. Sarah hadn't mentioned Jesse since that day in the church when Milly had first thought up the Spinsters' Club, so Milly had assumed Sarah had begun to accept her fiancé's loss, especially after she'd agreed to write to Dr. Walker.

“Not on your life! I'm not about to take up with any Yankee! Not after my Jesse died in the war and I'll never even know what happened to him! I couldn't bear to spend a moment in that man's company, from the moment he opened his mouth and started talking in that horrible Yankee accent! This is how he talks— ‘Hello, Miss Matthews, I'm glad to meet you,' she said, mimicking an accent that sounded flat and nasally to Milly.

Sarah burst into tears, and went into her sister's wait
ing embrace, sobbing. “I told Prissy she could have him, if her standards were so low, or he could just ride back out of here on that horse of his!”

M
illy looked from her sister's tear-stained face to Nick. After proffering a handkerchief, he hovered by the two of them as if not certain what to do. Milly didn't know either. Ought she to encourage Sarah again to give the man a chance, against her sister's strongly held convictions, or just let her be?

Sarah finally wiped her eyes and cheeks. “I—I'll be all right,” she said. “Don't worry about me. I don't want to spoil the day for you. I said all along we might not suit one another.” She shrugged. “If you don't mind, though, I'm going to sit with you two rather than the others.”

Sarah made a vague gesture toward the group standing next to the church, which included the three candidates, Prissy, Maude and Jane. Since Maude and Jane were each standing close to one of the men, Milly assumed the man standing by himself must be the rejected Yankee. Milly couldn't see him well, but from where she was standing Dr. Nolan Walker appeared tall and reasonably well-favored, and had hair that might have been brown or auburn—she couldn't be sure from this
distance. Prissy approached him and seemed content enough in his company. As Milly watched, he offered Prissy his arm and the group of six strolled over to a spot on the lawn where Maude spread out a large tablecloth. So Sarah's loss, or rather rejection, might well be Prissy's gain, Milly decided, but then she saw Walker aim a glance in Sarah's direction. Even from so far away, she thought she could read regret on his face.

Milly urged Nick and Sarah over to an area near the bluff overlooking the creek, deliberately picking a spot to have their dinner that was as far away from the three couples as possible. They were soon joined by Josh, Bobby and the Brown brothers, who'd been visiting with some cowboys from the ranch beyond Waters's property, and Milly had been pleased to see the ready acceptance they were given.

 

They made short work of the delicious dinner Sarah had packed—fried chicken, biscuits and homemade jelly, apple pie and cold tea.

“I'm full as a tick on an ol' dog's ear,” Josh said, when nothing was left but chicken bones and crumbs. He patted his stomach as he stretched out backward on the blanket.

“Me, too. Miss Sarah, you sure are a good cook,” Micah said, and the others joined in the praise.

Nick put down his chicken leg, hoping Milly hadn't noticed how little he'd eaten, or how many times he'd surreptitiously rubbed his thumping head. He didn't want to spoil this special day. Perhaps if he stole away for a few minutes he could drink his quinine without any of them becoming the wiser. He still wasn't sure it
was a malaria attack—those had always been heralded by headaches, but as yet he hadn't had any of the premonitory chills.

But the eyes of the woman who loved him missed little. “What's the matter, Nick?” Milly whispered so that the others wouldn't hear.

“That headache's being a bit stubborn about going away,” he told her. “Don't worry about it. I'm sure it will fade in time.”

“Nick, are you sure this is not your malaria?”

“I don't think so,” he tried to tell her, but even to his own ears he didn't sound sure.

“We can go home, you know.”

“I don't want to spoil the fun for the others,” he protested. He'd been relieved to see Sarah laughing along with the others at some joke Josh had made.

“We don't have to,” Milly argued. “We could take two of the horses, and whoever rode them could come back in the wagon.”

“No, we wanted to invite people to our wedding, didn't we? I don't think it's the malaria, but just to be sure, I'll go ahead and take a draft of quinine. Let me just get a cupful of water from the church pump to wash that bitter taste down, and I'll be right as rain.”

“Englishmen are every bit as stubborn as American men!” Milly retorted in exasperation. “At least let's go inside while you drink it, and get you out of the sun for a few minutes,” Milly said, rising to her feet. “Sarah, we'll be back in a while. We're going to get a drink of water and then go around and tell folks about the wedding,” she said.

But Nick's hopes of a few peaceful minutes alone
with Milly in the cool dimness of the sanctuary were to be frustrated. When they walked inside, Nick's eyes made out a huddled form in a front pew even as the sound of weeping reached his ears.

It was Ada Spencer. He had to smother the urge to groan aloud.

Milly rushed forward. “Ada? Ada, what's wrong?”

The woman started. Obviously she had been sunk too deep in distress to hear their quiet entrance.

Nick took in the other woman's disheveled hair and red-rimmed eyes as Ada looked up.

“What is it?” Milly asked gently. “Where's Mr. Harvey? Did you two have a quarrel?”

“He's gone,” Ada said dully. “He left town about an hour ago…”

“But why?”

“Did he hurt you, Miss Spencer?” Nick said, stepping forward. “I promise you, if he did, we'll hunt him down and see that he's punished.”

The woman shook her head, a weary gesture that spoke volumes. “No…not like you mean,” she said, her voice raspy and cracking. “He didn't do anything I didn't agree to. But when I told him I was expecting his child, and I wanted to know when we were going to marry, he said he was leaving and going back to his post in Austin—maybe even back to England.”

“We'll find him and bring him back,” Nick said, promising himself he'd force the scoundrel to make an honest woman of Ada Spencer, even though he was sure Ada was better off without him, even if it meant bearing a babe on her own.

“No!” the woman cried, startling both of them with
the vehemence she was able to summon. “I don't want anyone that doesn't want me! I'll go away somewhere—tell everyone I'm a widow! But you can't tell anyone what he did, Milly, swear you won't…” She buried her face in her hands as a new paroxysm of sobs erupted from her.

Milly knelt by Ada's side and gathered the woman into her arms. “Of course I won't, Ada dear, but you mustn't think of leaving. No one in town will condemn you—”

Ada raised her head and opened her mouth, surely about to argue.

And then a shattering scream split the air from outside.

“Oh dear heaven, what can that be?” cried Milly. Ada jerked bolt upright, her sorrows momentarily forgotten, and all three of them ran to the door as the screaming went on and on.

When they reached the outside, it was all too plain what had caused someone to scream—a winded horse stood there, its flanks heaving. A man slumped over the horse's neck, his back pierced with multiple arrows. He was tied on the saddle by a rope binding his hands around the horse's neck and tying his feet to the stirrups.

“It's Blakely!”
screamed Ada, and fell over in a faint.

“Milly, stay with her!” Nick shouted, and ran to the horse. Everyone else who had been picnicking had jumped to their feet, but seemed riveted to the spot with horror.

He was certain Harvey must be dead, but when he reached the horse, he saw the man was still breathing.

“Harvey, can you hear me?” Nick hoped the man had passed out, for surely he must be suffering untold agony if he was conscious.

To his astonishment, the man turned a milk-white, blood-spattered face toward him. “Comanches…coming…they killed Waters…” he managed to say, and then his eyes rolled back as a last breath rattled through him and he died.

And Nick heard the pounding of hooves in the distance.

“The Comanches are coming! We've got to get to the fort!” he shouted. He ran back to where Milly was stooping over Ada, trying to slap her awake, and with one swift motion moved Milly aside and scooped up the unconscious woman.

“Milly, can you run?”

Wordlessly, her eyes wide, she nodded. “But where's Sarah?” Her eyes searched the lawn.

Both saw Sarah at the same time, running toward them alongside Elijah. The other Brown brothers, Bobby and Josh flanked them. Sarah's gaze met Milly's, and she beckoned for Milly to hurry, then ran to the street.

Milly took off, running alongside Nick.

All around them, parents snatched up their little ones, the children wailing in confused protest at their suddenly interrupted fun. Women screamed and men drew their guns as they ran. They became like a sea of ants, all streaming toward the fort in the middle of town.

Then over all the cries and turmoil came the whoops and shrieks of the charging Comanches on their
mounts splashing across Simpson Creek behind the churchyard.

A panic-stricken woman collided with Milly, and Milly nearly fell, saved only by Nick's extended hand. Arrows and bullets whooshed and whined past them as they fled, past the livery, past the mercantile, past the hotel, past the general store… Dear God, surely they must be near the fort!

Nick heard Milly panting for breath, and he breathed a prayer as he ran with his unconscious burden.
Please, Lord, let Milly make it to safety, and Sarah. Take my life if You will, but save this woman and the others.

Some men had already reached the fort and the wagons parked outside it, and had grabbed rifles to set up a covering fire at the Comanches galloping so closely behind the last of the townspeople. Their firing slowed the attackers' charge long enough, Nick thought, as he ran inside with Ada and Milly, for the townspeople to make it to safety—at least those who hadn't been felled as they ran. He'd seen at least a couple go down, but he'd dared not stop to help them.

As soon as he laid Ada down inside the fort in Milly's care, he dashed back outside, grabbing the rifle that Josh tossed to him from the wagon. Together they fired at the front line of the mounted Comanches until the last men ran inside. Then they, too, jumped inside, and rammed the door bolt home.

Men were already perched on the inside second-story walkways, firing out of the narrow windows as the whoops of the Indians and the whinnies of their horses circled the square stone fort. Nick joined them even as
the first chills racked his body. The malaria would have to wait.

Below him, he saw that Milly had turned over the care of Ada to Mrs. Detwiler, who was already clucking over her charge as if a hundred murderous savages weren't whooping outside. As the older woman sponged her face with a damp cloth, Ada blinked and raised her head, only to bury her face against Mrs. Detwiler's body as war whoops floated in through the windows, joined by a bloodcurdling scream and thud outside as a settler's bullet found its target.

In a moment, Milly had joined him at an adjacent window, firing with a rifle he didn't recognize.
Lord, save us and make me always worthy of this brave woman!
Looking to both sides, he saw Josh, Bobby and the Brown brothers, all firing out at the attackers. Between Elijah and Caleb stood the Yankee Sarah had rejected, shooting a Winchester carbine out the narrow window with deadly accuracy.

He could hear Reverend Chadwick and several others below, praying aloud for their deliverance, and added his silent prayers to theirs.

Where was Milly's sister? Then he spotted her, one of several women huddled over wailing, terrorized children against the walls as flaming arrows rained in with hissing sounds from the roofless top of the building. These embedded themselves harmlessly in the dirt floor, where the fires soon hissed out. The echoing yelps and screams rose upward to rattle around inside Nick's skull with the hammer and anvil already jammed inside there. He stiffened his body to try to control the chills that threatened the accuracy of his aim.

Just a little longer, Lord. Let the fever hold off a little longer…
As he watched, their coppery skins and contorted, screaming faces became the faces of warring Punjabis and the town's buildings became the northern plains of India. He fired again, and had the satisfaction of seeing a Punjabi—no, a Comanche—about to loose a flaming arrow fall off his horse with a hoarse cry instead. As he looked, his blurring vision caused the crumpled body on the ground to become two.

And then, blessedly, they heard a bugle in the distance, and more pounding hooves. As Nick watched through blurry vision, horsemen in blue galloped around the corner, heading straight for the fort, as Comanches scattered left and right, fleeing the oncoming cavalry.