Mail Order Cowboy (Love Inspired Historical) (8 page)

“It was too neat to have been an animal,” Nick said.

“But there's no tellin' if it was redskins or rustlers what killed that cow,” Josh said.

“I should think if you let it be known you had positions open,” Nick said, “even though for now you could pay nothing but their board, men riding through town seeking work would find their way to you. In time, they'd pay for themselves. If you had more cowhands, Bobby and I could go hunting at night, the livestock could be guarded and eventually you could enlarge your herd and pay wages.”

“Well, we'd best start tonight on the guardin', not wait for any more hands,” Josh said with finality. “You boys ride out after dinner and bring the herd into the corral. Like I said, I don't sleep much, so I'll sit up on the porch with the rifle. That way I kin come out and wake you so's you two can get that buck when he comes down to water. Then come mornin' I'll go sleep awhile.”

H
e hadn't dared to expect that she would be sitting out on the porch again when he and Bobby herded the cattle into the opened corral at sunset. Yet there she was, sitting on the porch with Sarah. The women waved as Bobby jumped off his cow pony and slammed the gate shut on the lowing beasts.

“I'll put th' horses away, Mr. Nick,” Bobby offered.

“Thanks, lad,” he said, dismounting and handing over the bay's reins. “Next time I'll return the favor.”

Sarah rose as he strode toward the porch. “Good night, Nick. I've left sandwiches for you men to take with you in the morning.”

“Thank you, Miss Sarah.”

He sank into the rocking chair Milly's sister had vacated. Milly resumed crocheting what looked like the beginnings of an afghan. For a few moments there was a companionable silence between them.

“I say, Miss Milly…did you want…that is, did you have something else in mind for me to do tomorrow besides hunting?”

“Oh, it was nothing important,” Milly said, too quickly, and looked back at her afghan.

“Just a feeling I had from a look on your face,” Nick said. A look that had flashed so quickly across those hazel orbs that he hadn't been sure he had seen it until her too-rapid denial confirmed it. “I thought perhaps you'd had some task in mind for me. Bobby and I can go track that buck any time, you know.”

Milly shrugged. “No, it would be better for you to go hunting. I just thought I'd ride into town tomorrow and get cloth for those shirts I need to make…and perhaps call on Hank Dayton at the lumberyard and see what his terms would be for the lumber. I thought we could go together, but I can go on my own.”

“With Comanches on the loose? I rather think not,” Nick said. He flashed on an image of Milly alone, encountering savages on the road, and meeting Josh's fate or worse.

“I can't be afraid to ride into town alone the rest of my life. There might never be another Comanche raid.”

But then again, there might be.
“Could you still do your errands in the afternoon? Bobby and I will be back by noon, I should think, deer or no deer. The lad says it's best to hunt at sunrise, when they're seeking a place to bed down. They aren't active during the heat of the day, so I could still go into town with you—unless it's too hot for you to go then?” English ladies had never done their errands in Bombay in the afternoon, preferring to go in the morning or send their native servants in the interest of preserving their milk-and-roses complexions. And the rajah's daughter had never left the palace when
the sun was beating down, sending her old
amah
to the bazaar for anything she needed.

“No, that would be fine,” she said, coloring faintly. “Thank you. I can tell Bobby's tickled pink that you two are going. He thinks quite a lot of you, Nick.”

And you? What do you think of me, Milly Matthews?
Aloud, he said, “He's a good lad. I've actually learned quite a lot from him already.”

Milly smiled. “If you get that buck, he'll be sure you hung the moon.”

He laughed. “He's already planning to hang the antlers on the wall of the bunkhouse. Maybe he'll be the one to shoot it.”

“Boys always need someone to look up to,” she murmured.

“Yes, though I'm sure I won't replace his uncle. I can remember a crusty old sergeant major in India I felt that way about when I first arrived as a raw lieutenant fresh off the boat. I thought he knew everything about everything. He taught me a lot before…well, before he died.” He wished he hadn't thought of McGowan and the massacre…. Too many good men had died in India, he thought. All for the sake of empire…

Her hazel eyes studied him in the growing darkness, as if she sensed the pain he felt at remembering James McGowan.

Clomping boot heels approaching from inside the house warned them their time alone was about to end. A moment later Josh joined them on the porch.

“Had me a nice nap, so I'm ready to go on watch now.”

Nick had hoped for a longer time to talk with Milly,
but perhaps it'd be easier tomorrow during their trip into town. “Yes, well, I'd better retire if Bobby and I are going to bring down that buck,” Nick said, rising. “Good night, Josh, Miss Milly.”

 

Nick and Bobby brought no venison home to the Matthews ranch the next morning, although Nick had bagged a wild turkey that had been startled out of the underbrush near them.

“We saw that old buck, but he was too far away to hit. We'll get him the next time, Mr. Nick says,” Bobby told the women, who were admiring the slain tom Nick held up by his legs.

Nick forbore mentioning that the boy had tried the impossible shot anyway, spooking the buck so that creeping up on him upwind had been impossible.

“Well, I like turkey every bit as much as venison,” Milly said, and the boy brightened.

“Yes, it'll be like Thanksgiving in August,” Sarah added. “Bobby, if you'll start plucking the feathers, I think I can promise turkey for supper.”

“Yes,
ma'am!
”

After the noon meal, Nick said he was going to go hitch up the buckboard, but Milly said, “Oh, why don't we ride? I haven't had a chance to ride Ruby—that's that red roan mare out in the corral, Nick—and I don't want her getting lazy.”

“But, Milly, all the tack burned up with the barn,” Sarah pointed out.

Milly shrugged. “Who needs a saddle?” She winked at Nick. “You won't disapprove of me riding bareback, will you?”

“Disapprove of my boss? Perish the thought, though I'd be happy to let you ride my horse, saddled.” Nick grinned, still dealing with the surprise of learning that his Milly was a daring horsewoman in addition to all of her other impressive qualities.

“No, thanks, I'd love the excuse to ride bareback. Fortunately, I was repairing the reins of her hackamore and it was in my room on the day of the attack, so it didn't burn up with the barn. Go ahead and saddle your bay, Nick, I'll join you as soon as I've changed my skirt.”

Sarah's expression had become uneasy. “Milly, don't let Mrs. Detwiler see you,” she moaned.

“Pooh, Sarah, that would be half the fun of it.”

She came out to the corral minutes later, carrying the bitless bridle and wearing the divided skirt trimmed at each side with a pair of silver
conchas
. Nick had tethered the roan mare to the corral fence with a loop of rope around her neck. Now he stopped tightening his bay's girth and watched as Milly approached, noting how the riding skirt became her.

“You like it? Mother made it for me because she knew I'd have a more secure seat than if I rode sidesaddle. Not to mention that it didn't reveal my…ahem!…
limbs,
” she said in a conspiratorial whisper.

“You surprise me more every day, Miss Milly,” he said, letting her see his admiration. “You're quite the intrepid lady.”

She beamed at his compliment. “Josh taught me to ride when I was barely old enough to walk. Um…could we drop the ‘Miss,' just while we're alone, Nick?”

Their gazes locked. “I would be delighted,
Milly
.”

While he finished saddling his bay, she bridled the
well-mannered mare. Then Nick laced his fingers for her, providing a springboard for her left foot so she could mount.

By the time they reached the road, he'd decided her seat was as excellent as her hands.

“Does Sarah ride as well as you, Milly?” He tried to imagine an English lady cantering down the road bareback and couldn't. Texas women were full of surprises.

She shook her head. “She doesn't really like to ride very much because she had a bad fall once—from a sidesaddle. But she's a much better cook than I will ever be,” she added loyally, with a self-deprecating roll of her eyes. “Her biscuits are so light they practically float away, don't you think?”

“Ah, well, one can't be good at everything, can one?” he asked lightly. If this woman learned to love him, he thought, eating less-than-perfect biscuits would be a small price to pay.

Once they reached Simpson Creek, their first stop was the post office. Caroline Wallace came running out while Milly was still dismounting.

“Oh, Milly, it's so good to see you! Still riding bareback like an Indian, I see. Mr. Brookfield, how are
you?
Is old Josh feeling better?”

Nick, tying the horses to the hitching rail, watched as Milly absorbed the other woman's conversational onslaught.

“Everything's getting back to normal, thanks, and yes, Josh is feeling much better. I can tell because he's getting ornery and trying to do too much.”

Clearly unable to contain herself, the other woman
could barely wait for Milly to finish answering her question. “Milly, can you imagine, we've had
two
applications to the Society!”

“We have? That's wonderful.”

“I didn't think you'd mind me looking at them,” Caroline said. “I figured, what with all you've had to deal with, it might be a while before you made it to town again. They'd both like to come up from Houston to meet us,” she gushed. “I don't know if they'll be here in time for the barn raising, but wouldn't that be great if they were?”

“Yes, there's nothing like putting guests in town to work right away,” Milly said drily.

“It seems to have worked out well for you,” Caroline teased, with a meaningful glance at Nick. “Let me tell you about the letters.” She brought them out of her pocket and unfolded one. “This one sounds just perfect for Emily—he's a widower from Buffalo Bayou—but I'm calling first dibs on this other one, a fellow named Pete Collier—if I like what I see when he arrives, of course, and if he feels the same. He says he's from Galveston originally, and he owns a pharmacy, but he's been looking to relocate. And he said he knew two or three other men who might be interested, depending on what he reports back to them…”

“Oh, so he's being sent to survey the prospects, is he?” Milly said with a laugh.

Nick imagined the pride Milly must be feeling that her idea was working. Now, he only needed to make sure Milly didn't find the new gentlemen more attractive than himself!

They went across the street to the general store from
there, where Milly selected a bolt of sturdy tan broad-cloth for the shirts she was going to make. “It might as well match the color of the dirt around here,” she commented, politely rejecting a bolt of dark navy that the proprietor had brought down from the shelf first, “since it's going to absorb a lot of it while it's being worn…” Her voice trailed off as she stared out the window. “Oh, there's Mr. Dayton now, just going down the street,” she said, looking out the window. “Mr. Patterson, will you save this bolt for me?” She dashed outside.

Nick edged toward the open door but remained within the building, wanting to unobtrusively overhear without being seen. Just as he had guessed, the man Milly was hastening toward was the same man who'd been speaking with Waters outside this store yesterday.

“Mr. Dayton, how are you? How's the family?” Milly asked, her voice friendly.

The paunchy middle-aged man stopped and shaded his eyes to peer at her. “Afternoon, Miss Matthews. Same as always.”

“I hope y'all are coming to our barn raising,” she said. “I haven't seen your wife in a month of Sundays, and from what I'm hearing already, the food's going to be the best this side of heaven.”

“I'm sure Alice Ann will nag me into comin',” he said, looking less than pleased at the prospect. “As if I don't work hard enough all week long at the lumberyard.”

Nick watched Milly's cheerful smile remain in place. “And that reminds me, I wanted to talk to you about the price of the wood for the barn. I—”

“I'll tell you right now I cain't jes' give that wood away,” the man whined, his lips tightening. “The may
or's daughter's already been jawin' at me, tryin' to get me to donate it ‘outa the goodness of my heart,'” he said, a sneer making his jowly features even more disagreeable.

“I completely understand, Mr. Dayton,” Nick heard Milly say, still cheerful. “I was just wondering how soon you would require payment, so I could figure out if we could afford it. If we can't, of course, we'll have to wait to raise a barn when we can.”

Nick saw the other man's face take on a wary look, as if he realized he might miss out on a sale altogether if he made his price too high.

“I can give you a couple weeks, ma'am, and then I'm gonna need payment in full. I got mouths t'feed, y'understand.”

“Of course,” she said, her voice losing none of its warmth. He marveled at her poise.

Just then he saw another man join them—Bill Waters.

“How do, Bill? Didn't know you'd be comin' inta town today,” Dayton said. “Now, Miss Milly, I didn't mean t' speak too hasty,” he said. “Seein' Bill here, I might could work somethin' out to help you out, under certain circumstances…”

Nick straightened. There was something in the man's tone he didn't like.

“Oh? And what circumstances would those be?” Milly's voice had cooled, but the lumberyard owner didn't seem to notice.

“Why, I'd give that wood to you as a weddin' present.”

Milly sounded puzzled. “But I have no wedding
planned, Mr. Dayton. Did you mean if I married a man I met through the Society for the Promotion of Marriage?”

“Naw, I'm not talkin' about that fool business. That's jest about the featherbraindest idea any female ever came up with. Why you'd want to find a stranger to get hitched with, I don't know, since I happen to know you're standin' right next to a fine man who'd give you anythin' your little heart desired if you was to marry him.”

Nick heard Milly gasp, even as his fists involuntarily tightened. So now the old man thought he could persuade Milly into marriage, if he couldn't get her to sell the ranch?