Mail Order Cowboy (Love Inspired Historical) (4 page)

His cool eyes held an element of admiration when she turned around again and showed him the wadded-up flounce.

“Good thinking, Miss Matthews. Do you think you could kneel by Josh's head and stand ready to apply the bandage quickly, as soon as I pull the first shaft out? I'll move quickly on to the other one, then. Bobby, you hold his feet. He'll probably feel this to some extent, and he's apt to struggle.”

Bobby nodded solemnly, so what could Milly do but agree?

W
hat 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.”