Mail Order Cowboy (Love Inspired Historical) (12 page)

T
he moon had sunk low in the sky and all but the oldest children were asleep in or under wagon beds when one of the fiddlers announced the last dance.

“Morning's going to come all too soon, even though Reverend Chadwick's agreed to delay the service an hour. Now, we've saved the best for last—we're going to make this final one a waltz, folks.”

A pleased chorus greeted this announcement. They had danced reels, schottisches, polkas and square dances—the latter entirely new to Nick, of course, with its allemande lefts and rights and do-si-dos, but he'd caught on quickly with the generous help of the partiers—but there had been no waltzes.

“So husbands, take your wives' hands, and you courtin' fellas, find a lady to dance with.”

“My dance, I believe?” Nick said, crossing to where Milly had just danced an energetic reel with one of the cowboys who'd come from nearby ranches. He hadn't liked seeing the fellow claim her for the reel, but to be fair, he'd danced at least half of the other dances with
Milly. He realized she had a social duty to dance with some of the other gentlemen present.

During these times he danced with the other ladies, not only the ladies of the Society, but those whose husbands were not enthusiastic dancers, earning him much gratitude.

“But I was hopin'—” the fellow started to protest.

“I'm sorry, Hap, but I did promise Mr. Brookfield the last dance,” Milly apologized. “Look—Miss Spencer has no partner. Perhaps you should ask her.”

As Hap loped away in the direction of Ada Spencer, Milly gave Nick a smile of relief and welcome.

“I'm so glad you reserved this last dance,” she whispered. “He's a nice boy, but he must have stepped on my feet three times—and you know in a reel, partners aren't dancing that close most of the time. I'd probably be limping after a waltz!”

“Ah, so it's only to escape injured feet that you're glad to see me?” Nick teased, assuming a mock-aggrieved expression.

“Silly! You know that's not the only reason,” she told him as the musicians strummed the opening strains of “Lorena.”

Nick was glad that small-town Texas folk ignored the custom of wearing gloves at dances, for he savored the warmth of her smaller hand in his as much as the glow of her eyes as they whirled gracefully around the makeshift dirt dance floor. Other couples danced past them—Caroline and Pete Collier, Emily Thompson and Ed Markison, Sarah and one of the other cowboys, Mr. and Mrs. Patterson, but he and Milly might have been the only couple dancing. He wanted the dance to go on
forever, so he could go on holding her, moving with her, like this.

“You waltz very well,” she told him, making him glad of every one of those tedious weekly dances he'd attended in Bombay. They had been held to allow the daughters of the married officers to mingle with the “griffins” as the new junior officers of the company were called, for most of those who were “old India hands” were either married themselves or, more rarely, confirmed bachelors.

“Thank you. And so do you, Milly,” he said. He wondered if she had learned to waltz before the war and had danced this dance with a favorite beau. Oddly, the thought didn't trouble him. She was dancing with
him
now, and from the look in her shining hazel eyes, she was very pleased to have it so.

The other couples had dropped out by now, and they had the floor to themselves. Everyone watched them, and the fiddlers and guitar player prolonged the music. When the music faded away, there was a burst of applause.

Even in the flickering light of the hanging lanterns, he could see her blush, suddenly self-conscious, as if she had totally forgotten the rest of the world while she was dancing with him. The thought pleased him immeasurably.

Surely it was time to advance his courtship?

“I'm going to help the men hitch up their wagon horses,” Nick told Milly, with a nod toward the corral, where Bobby—who'd been too young and bashful to take part in the dancing—was already doing that. “Per
haps we could spend a few minutes together on the porch once all the guests have departed?”

She blinked, and a slow smile curved her lips. “I'd like that,” she said. “And now I'd better help the ladies round up their dishes and their older children.”

It was over an hour before the last wagon rolled out of the yard and disappeared around the bend in the road toward town.

“Good night, Miss Milly, Miss Sarah,” Josh said. “It sure was a fine party.”

“Thanks in large part for your delicious barbecue,” Milly said.

Sarah agreed and added, “Please, won't you share your recipe with me?”

“Mebbe,” Josh said, a twinkle in his eye. “If you'll bake me another a' them pecan pies. I didn't get nothin' but one skinny piece this time. C'mon, Bobby, help this old cowboy get over to th' bunkhouse. I've stiffened up, settin' too long watchin' the dancin' and jawin' with old Mr. Preston.”

“Oh, Milly, that reminds me,” Sarah said, “Mrs. Preston told me they'd decided they were too old to be ranching anymore, so they're moving to San Antonio to live with their son and his family—and they're
giving
us their flock of chickens, a half-dozen pigs and twenty head of cattle!”

Nick saw Milly's mouth fall open in astonishment. “But that's wonderful! How nice of them, when they could easily sell them. I…I wish I'd known that, before they left, so I could thank them.”

“That's probably why they told
me,
sister. I imagine they figured you'd insist on paying them somehow,”
Sarah said, with loving exasperation. “They told me Papa had helped them take care of the stock while Mr. Preston was laid up with a broken arm, so they wanted to do this for us.”

How true, Nick thought. If the old wife had announced the gift to Milly, she
would
have tried to decline, unless she could pay for the livestock. And that would be more debt on top of the what they owed for the lumber, for there was certainly no way the money raised by the pie-and-cake auction and the dances, could have covered all the cost of the barn lumber. His Texas rose surely had stubborn streaks of pride and independence!

Milly had had no idea how much she and her sister were loved by the town, Nick thought, having watched the surprised joy in her eyes today as Simpson Creek turned out en masse to help them. Nick smiled to himself. Miss Milly Matthews was going to be one surprised lady when she went to give Dayton the money that had been raised, and tried to bargain for time to pay off the balance, for she was going to learn that a mysterious benefactor had already paid it!

Nick and Milly sat down together, not in their respective rocking chairs as usual, but this time on the porch swing. They spoke of inconsequential things until light no longer shone from within the house or the bunkhouse. Milly had kept a lantern to light her way into the house, but she had turned it down so it emitted only a faint glow between them. The only sound came from the sleepy hooting of an owl in a nearby tree and the crickets chirping in the grass.

“I enjoyed your Texas hoedown—at least that's what
Josh called it—very much, Milly,” he told her, wondering how to broach the subject on his mind. “The whole day, actually. Everyone was so friendly and kind.”

At least after Mr. Waters and Mr. Dayton and their cronies left, he thought, and later, the dour Mrs. Detwiler, who seemed to have it in for Milly. The crabby old woman could be avoided, but those men seemed right bad apples and Nick wished Milly and Sarah's land didn't border on Waters's.

“They like you very much, too, Nick. Everyone's been telling me how impressed they were at how hard you've been working around here, but especially today. And the ladies like your accent,” she added with a giggle.

“Do they now?” he said, amused, but also touched at his acceptance by the townspeople.
Would they still like him if they knew everything about him?
“But if I stay around for very long, I might start drawling and saying ‘y'all,' you know. How would you like that?”

She laughed, but suddenly she became still, as if she'd realized the deeper meaning of his words.

“I'm wondering if we might amend our agreement, Milly.”

“Wh-what do you mean, exactly?”

“We agreed I was here to help while Josh is laid up, nothing more. But holding you tonight as we waltzed was like a wonderful dream, a dream I wanted to come true. I'd like to court you, Milly. I know we had agreed to postpone it until Josh had recovered, but I…I don't want to wait any longer—if you're willing, that is.”

He held his breath for the endless seconds it took her to answer.

“Yes, Nick. My answer is yes. But…how do we begin?” she said, her voice sounding a little breathless.

He took a deep breath, praying he was not being too bold, but nothing in her eyes made him think so. “For one thing, we could kiss to seal the deal, rather than shaking hands.”

“Ahh,” she said, and tilted her face to his.

Her lips were the sweetest he'd ever tasted. And he could tell from her drawn breath that she'd never been kissed before.

Better not rush your fences, lad.
Taking his lips from hers, he gazed into her face. Surely all the starlight in Texas had taken up residence in her eyes.

“Could we…I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm being very for ward, but might we do that again?” she asked, her voice tremulous.

His heart sang within him. “It would be my pleasure, dear girl,” he said, and lowered his head again, intending to make this kiss deeper and much more leisurely…

Just as his eyes nearly closed, out of the corner of one eye he caught a movement in the shadows by the barn.

He jerked away from Milly and was instantly on his feet, instinctively standing in front of her.

“What is it? Nick, what's wrong? Why—”

“Quiet! Milly, get inside, now!” he commanded in a whisper, motioning for her to move quickly. To his relief, she obeyed, and he followed her.

Once inside, he reached for one of the two rifles in their horizontal racks over the coat pegs. “I saw some
thing—someone—creep into the barn. I've got to find out who it is. You stay here.”

“An Indian?” she whispered, her eyes enormous in the dark kitchen.

“I don't know,” he admitted. “I didn't see more than a quick movement.”

“But you can't go out there by yourself!” she cried, still keeping her voice down, but seizing his wrist with a shaking hand. “If it's a Comanche, he won't be alone! Go get Bobby—”

He blew out the lantern.

“Milly,
stay here!
” he barked. “Lock the door behind me, then grab the other rifle and have it ready. Don't make a sound!” He went back outside before she could say anything more, praying she would do as he said.

M
illy huddled in the dark kitchen, clutching her rifle, staring out through the window at the hulking shape of the barn into which Nick had disappeared, sure he was wrong to have gone alone, sure she should run out to the bunkhouse and wake Bobby and send him to the barn to help Nick—maybe even Josh, too. She was sure that any minute now, she would hear a blood-curdling war whoop, followed by Nick's cutoff scream. Then the rest of the Comanches would erupt from the trees and attack the house…

Then she saw him walking back to the house, briskly, but his gait did not appear alarmed. She dashed to the door to let him in.

“It wasn't a Comanche,” he said.

“Then who w—”

“Come, and bring the lantern. I'll show you.”

Her hands still trembling, she relit the lantern and followed him out into the night once again. The lantern cast wobbling circles of light on the ground as they walked.

Once inside the barn, he took the lantern from her
and held it high, illuminating four men huddling in the corner of the rearmost stall. They were of differing ages, but similar in height and build, and alike in the darkness of their skin, the whiteness of their wide eyes and the raggedy condition of their clothes.

“Miss Millicent Matthews, may I present Elijah Brown and his brothers—Isaiah, Caleb and Micah.” He pointed at each of them in turn.

All of the men pulled off their hats, three of which were tattered and floppy-brimmed, while the youngest wore a forage cap, and inclined their heads with a dignity that nevertheless betrayed their apprehension.

“We're sorry t' have give you a fright, Miss Matthews, we surely are. We was jes' lookin' fer shelter for the night, that's all, I promise you, ma'am,” the one called Elijah said.

All eyes were on her, including Nick's. And as she stared back at them, she saw how thin they all were, especially the one in the middle—Caleb, had that been his name? His clothes, or what was left of them, hung from his tall frame as if he had once been almost stocky.

“But…how did you come here?” she asked.

“We been wanderin' the roads, ma'am, lookin' for work, but so far we ain't found none. We saw this barn goin' up today, and Isaiah wanted us t' offer to help in exchange fer supper, but I didn't think that was a good idea, what with all th' folks that was here. Some folks don' like havin' us 'round, y'understand.” The last thing he said with an apologetic but matter-of-fact air.

“Miss Milly, might we give them something to eat?”
Nick asked. “Elijah says they haven't had anything in two days except for some pecans they found.”

There was food left from the party—half a pie, a dozen or so pieces of fried chicken, a basketful of biscuits, a dish of green beans. Sarah had covered them and left them on the cast-iron stove, saying it would be their Sunday dinner, but how could Milly say no? Hope shone from the dark eyes trained on her.

“Of course,” she said. “Nick, would you come back to the kitchen with me and help me carry things?”

He followed her back to the house. “Milly, I think the answer to our problem is in that barn,” he said softly, once they were back in the kitchen.

She turned to him. “What problem? What are you saying?” It was late. There were four strangers, homeless former slaves, in her barn, and she didn't have time for riddles.

“You need help to run the ranch properly, these men need jobs. Why not let them stay? I imagine they'd work for their board alone, like we do, until you could afford to pay them.”

She felt her mouth drop open. “I…I don't know,” she said at last. “I—I'd have to think about it…and ask Sarah, and Josh…” She had no experience with other races; she'd never had occasion to even speak to a person with dark skin. Before the war, there had been few slaves in ranching country except for one or two on the bigger spreads, mostly kept as cooks and household help. Most slaves had lived in the rice-and cotton-growing plantation areas to the east and south.

She remembered the men whispering at the table today, and the conversation Nick had reported over-
hearing between Waters and Dayton, about how “the circle” was going to take care of the problem posed by just such men as Nick had found in the barn.

Aware that he was waiting for an answer, Milly turned back to the leftover food on the stove. “I…we'll have to see,” she said. “Meanwhile, let's take this food out to them.”

Was there a flash of disappointment in those blue eyes?

Milly pulled open a drawer in the cabinet and took out four tin forks from the supply of eating utensils used during spring roundups and picnics. She wasn't about to risk the loss of any of Mama's silverware. Then she felt guilty for her suspicion. She had no reason to think these men were thieves, no matter what the likes of Waters and Dayton said.

“Thank ya, ma'am,” Elijah Brown said as the men eagerly took the dishes and the forks from them. “We'll be movin' on once we've et. We'll leave th' dishes and forks right here when we go. We don't wanna be no trouble.”

“But it's the middle of the night,” she said. “You can sleep here at least.”

She thought she saw wetness in the man's liquid brown eyes, but he blinked before she could be sure. “That's right decent a' you, ma'am. Thank ya.”

“I'll bring them some spare blankets from the bunkhouse,” Nick said, and she saw approval lighting his gaze. He followed her out. “I really think it's the perfect solution, Milly,” he said, as they stopped halfway between the bunkhouse and the house.

“I'll think about it,” she repeated, wishing he wouldn't
try to rush her about this. “And pray about it. I have to see what the others say. Tell those men…you can tell them not to leave in the morning until we've made our decision.”

“Very well,” he said, and left her, striding toward the bunkhouse without another word.

Vaguely disappointed, she went into the house. Why couldn't he tell her he understood her hesitation? Hadn't he just kissed her? Hadn't they just agreed to begin courting?

In the morning, over breakfast, she told Sarah, Josh and Bobby about their visitors, and Nick's idea, while Nick ate his eggs and biscuits and said nothing.

“Well, what do you think?” she said into the thoughtful silence.

Sarah shrugged. “I don't know, Milly…. Whatever you decide is all right with me.”

Milly shot her sister an exasperated look before turning to the old cowboy. “Josh, what do
you
think? Is it a good idea?”

Josh leaned back in his chair. “Well…we could give it a try. Tell 'em they could stay on a trial basis, see how it works out. We
do
need help around here, like Nick says. I ain't never worked around them folks, though…” He grinned crookedly and chuckled. “Might be worth it just to put a stick in Bill Waters's spokes.”

Milly sighed. It was all very well for Josh to be gleeful about aggravating their cantankerous neighbor, but she and Sarah would bear the brunt of any reaction, not Josh.

She was going to get no real help in making the deci
sion, she saw, other than the feeling she had gotten while lying awake praying until nearly dawn this morning.

If you do this for the least of these My brethren, you do it for Me.

She sighed. She needed to decide, so they could all get on with getting ready for church. “All right, Nick, I suppose we can—” she began, but shut her mouth again as the sound of hoofbeats reached her ears.

It was Waters and a trio of his ranch hands, she saw from the window, and by the time she got to the door, they had stopped in front of the house, sending a cloud of dust flying through the air. The men were all armed, with rifles tied to the backs of their saddles and pairs of pistols in their belt holsters.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Waters?” she said, hearing someone coming to stand behind her and knowing without looking that it was Nick. “We were just getting ready for church.”

“Sorry to disturb you, Miss Milly, but we're out lookin' for that band a' ex-slaves that's been robbin' folks blind around these parts. I found 'em roastin' a steer on my property, bold as you please, and I wanted to make sure they weren't botherin' you, too.”

By an effort of will, Milly kept her eyes from straying to the barn behind the men, lest she give away the four men's presence. If what Waters said was true, the men in the barn had lied to her about being hungry. But they hadn't looked at the food like men who'd just eaten beef steaks.
Please, God, don't let them come out of the barn right now or even peek out.
“No, they haven't bothered us,” she said with perfect honesty.

“That's good. Well, you go on to church, then, but
if you happen to see 'em on the road, you tell them to git outta San Saba County, or there's white men who'll teach 'em a lesson they might not live to regret, them and anyone fool enough to shelter 'em.” He touched the brim of his hat automatically, the gesture of respect mocking after the threat he'd just uttered.

Chilled to the bone despite the heat of the sun, Milly stepped back inside without a word while the riders wheeled and galloped away.

“I'm sorry,” she said, as soon as she'd closed the door. “I'm afraid they can't stay after all. You'd better tell them to move on.”

He looked thunderstruck. “You're going to let that…that blowhard tell you what to do?”

She flinched at the incredulity in his voice. She'd hoped he wouldn't question what she said. “You heard Waters,” she said, her hand outstretched in a plea for his understanding. “Surely you can understand I—we—have no choice. Those men might be in danger if they stay, and we can't chance having trouble here. Why, they might even burn the ranch down.”

Josh and Bobby and Sarah were silent, watching as Milly pled for his understanding.

“Or they might understand that it's your choice to employ whom you please, Miss Milly,” Nick said evenly, while his eyes flashed blue sparks of ire. “People like Waters are cowards, and they thrive only as long as they can intimidate others into doing what they say.”

It was a challenge, and she knew it, but as much as she wanted to quench the anger in his gaze, she couldn't give in. A part of her was angry that he'd placed her in this position and made her choose. Her heart ached in
realization that saying no would probably toll the death knell over what had been beginning between them.

“You're right, it
is
my choice to employ whom I please, Nick, and I'm telling you I can't risk what you're asking me to do. You're a foreigner here, and you weren't here to see the hatred and violence that ran rampant here between the men like Waters and the men who disagreed with them about slavery and such.”

His eyes were hard as flint. “I've seen bigotry before, Miss Matthews. There was plenty of it in India, coming from the British and aimed at the very people whose country they'd taken over. They called the sepoys—the Hindu and Moslem Indians who served in the army—‘blackies' and treated them with contempt, even though they couldn't have held on to their comfortable life of privilege without them. I've seen the Indians themselves and their mistreatment of the ‘untouchables,' the lowest caste, and I tell you I can't stomach it. But as you've reminded me, it's your decision to make.”

There was nothing she could say to quench the contempt in his eyes, she thought, blinking against the sting of tears. “I'm sorry,” she said again. “Does that mean you won't stay either?” She held her breath, afraid of his answer.

It was an eternity before he answered, and when he did he didn't look at her. “I've made a promise to you, and I'll keep it,” he said at last. “I'll stay until Josh is able to work again. Then perhaps I'd better go back to Austin and take that job at the embassy, if it's still open.”

She realized that he was telling her that anything
would be better than this, for he'd already expressed his distaste for that tedious position.

“Very well,” she said.

“I'll tell them,” he said, and left the house, letting the door slam behind him and leaving his breakfast half-eaten on the table.

When it was time to leave for church, there was no sign of him.