Mail Order Cowboy (Love Inspired Historical) (18 page)

“Ohh…” she said, completely unable to say more. “Oh, Nick. I love you, too. I—I just feel guilty that I've involved you in something much more than what you bargained for. You didn't ask to be confronted with murderous savages—red or white.”

“No,” he admitted. “I came to Simpson Creek on a lark. But having found you, Milly, I'm not about to let you go, or let problems, big or small, frighten me away. We'll solve the problems, Milly, I know we will, with God's help. And then I want to marry you and raise children just as spirited as their mother.”

He spoke with such sincerity that she knew he meant it, and would see his hope become reality.

“And with the quiet strength of their father,” she said. “Let's kiss on it, shall we?”

“T
he way I see it, Waters and the rest of his associates are counting on that trapped feeling Milly mentioned at dinner,” Nick said to the solemn group gathered around the table after supper. “They're treating you like a hawk does a hare, swooping over it often enough that it doesn't feel safe in its refuge or out of it, so at last it becomes too anxious to stay. It flees, which leaves it vulnerable to the hawk. In this case there is one hawk using another to help it—between the Comanches and the Circle, we don't feel completely safe on the ranch or off of it, am I right?”

Slowly, everyone nodded.

“There are people who could be allies in town, but the hawks have isolated you from them, so you feel reluctant to go to them for help for fear they'll refuse, and they feel some distrust of you, too. If we can break that isolation somehow, if we could prove we are more valuable to the town than any of these men in the Circle, we would have allies who would come to our aid, and the Circle wouldn't feel free to attack. And the town could become safer from the Comanches. But it will
mean postponing something we've started here at the ranch, at least for now.”

“What?” Milly asked for all of them.

He explained.

Milly sighed after he finished. “I suppose you're right,” she said. “But how are we to get them to agree to this?”

“Here's how I propose to do it,” Nick began. “First, we have to think of a way to speak to as many people as we can at one time. When is almost everyone gathered together all at once?”

“At church,” Milly and Sarah said in unison.

Nick smiled as if he were a teacher and they were clever pupils. “Do you think Reverend Chadwick would support our plan?”

“Sure, he'd back our plan, all right,” Josh agreed. “He don't like folks treatin' other folks badly, no matter what the reason is.”

“The success of the plan,” Nick went on, “depends on us getting to Reverend Chadwick and soliciting his support secretly, so that the Circle is taken by surprise. Do you think he would let us use the church to hold our meeting directly after Sunday's service?”

“Yes, I think he would,” Milly said. “But how do you propose we ask him, without tipping our hand, so to speak?”

“I'd suggest sending Bobby to town in the morning, ostensibly to buy some item at the mercantile you might need, but in reality his main purpose will be to deliver a letter to Reverend Chadwick, outlining our reasons for having this meeting right after church, and not announcing 'til the end. We'll ask him to give Bobby an answer
either immediately, or if he wants to pray and think about it, we could send Bobby back next morning. No one's likely to bother Bobby riding to and fro.”

The youth grinned from ear to ear at being selected for such an important mission.

“It could work,” Milly murmured, her elbow propped on the table, her fingers rubbing her chin.

“If we must, we can mention meeting that cavalry detachment on the road, and what the major said about the Comanche raids likely increasing before winter. That tacitly reminds the townspeople you have the option of involving the cavalry to help against the Circle, if they won't help, without actually saying so. But I think we should avoid that if we can.”

“And if they will help, you think that will break the power of the Circle?” Sarah asked.

“Yes, especially if the Brown brothers would be willing to assist,” he said, turning to them. “And may I say, I for one wouldn't blame you if you chose not to participate,” Nick said, his gaze directed at Elijah, Isaiah, Caleb and Micah.

When he had finished explaining this part of the plan, the brothers each looked at one another. Then, slowly, they nodded.

“It'll make the Circle's fool notions about them look downright silly,” Josh said.

“Exactly,” Nick agreed. “Especially if the men of the Circle are taken by surprise and react without time to think.”

Josh cackled with glee. “You mean, if they shoot off their mouths? Bill Waters is good at that.”

Nick nodded, smiling at the older man's enthusiasm.
“It will show the town who's for the town's good and who's out only for their own good.”

“I'll write the letter,” Milly said, rising and going to the parlor, where she found a pen, ink and paper in their father's old desk.

 

Reverend Chadwick, however, didn't send an answer back with Bobby. He came himself, driving his buggy into the yard at noon with Bobby leading the way on his horse.

“Reverend, you're just in time for dinner,” Sarah called, wiping her hands on her apron while Milly was still staring from the doorway.

“Good! I was hoping a hungry man could find a bite to eat after that hot, dusty ride. You got some sweet tea, too?” Reverend Chadwick asked as he climbed down from the buggy.

“Of course.”

“Sarah, Milly, I had no idea you were faced with such dilemmas,” he said, striding toward the porch, raising a hand in greeting to Nick and Josh, who'd heard his arrival and come out of the barn and bunkhouse. “Oh, I heard bits and pieces of that ugly nonsense Bill Waters and Dayton and their friends have been spouting, of course—people don't always lower their voices quickly enough when I come in the room,” he added with a wink. “But I hadn't realized things had come to such a pass that your men were being shot at. It's a terrible business, terrible,” he added, as Milly ushered him to a seat at the table, and Sarah handed him a glass of cold tea. “I suppose some of the good people of Simpson Creek have allowed themselves to become persuaded of
the silly fables men like Waters tell about folks like your four new cowboys,” he said, speaking frankly since the Brown brothers were just now riding in from the north pasture and couldn't hear him. “If we don't put a stop to it, the town will only be further and further divided, and then how could we fight off the Comanches? Besides, I don't want men like Waters gaining the whip hand over this town. Mayor Gilmore's getting along in years, and when he steps down, I don't want Bill Waters taking his place if I can help it.”

 

Five days later, Reverend Chadwick lowered the hands he had raised in benediction. “And now, before we go our separate ways,” he announced, “I have been asked to call a meeting of the townspeople.”

As a hum of speculative conversation rose in the pews around them, Milly's gaze locked with Nick's. Taking his hand, she gave it a little surreptitious squeeze and felt his reassuring squeeze in return. The moment was at hand.

“Who asked for this meeting? I don't know anything about a meeting,” Prissy's father called toward the pulpit, confusion creasing his features and causing the ends of his bushy mustache to twitch.

“I haven't heard anything about it either,” Bill Waters declared from the back, rising.

“The Matthews sisters and Nick Brookfield have requested it, and having heard what they wish to discuss with all of you, I support it,” Reverend Chadwick said with quiet dignity. “I suggest we pray once more and ask the Lord to bless this meeting and that His will
be done,” he added, and bowed his head, praying aloud for exactly that.

Bill Waters hadn't sat back down while the reverend was praying, and now Dayton stood, too. When Milly had arrived at church she'd been dismayed to see that Blakely Harvey was once more sitting by Ada; now he looked as if he was about to get to his feet, too—as were several other men sitting in the back rows.

“I'm not interested in hearing anything those three would have to say,” Waters shouted.

“Ain't no law can make us stay, is there?” Dayton demanded.

Reverend Chadwick unclasped his hands, palm upward. “Of course not,” he said in his mild, resonant voice, “but I think you'll find the subject matter particularly of interest to you. So I'd encourage you to remain, gentlemen.”

Muttering and eyeing one another, Waters and Dayton and the rest sat back down.

“The Matthews sisters have chosen Mr. Brookfield as their spokesman,” Chadwick went on. “Nick, would you come to the front, please?”

“A blasted foreigner's going to speechify at us?” one of Waters's cronies protested, and received an indignant look from Harvey.

Milly watched proudly as head high, his posture ramrod-straight, Nick strode toward the pulpit. He was so brave—he had not taken the easy way out, either with her or with the town, and now her heart swelled with even more love for him.

Nick cleared his throat. His gaze touched hers briefly, then he looked out over the congregation. “It's been
my pleasure to have gotten to know many of you since I came to Simpson Creek a short few weeks ago, and I thank you for your welcome,” Nick said. “Most of you will remember that the day I arrived was quite a dramatic one, a day in which the Misses Matthews's foreman nearly lost his life in a Comanche raid. I'm told some of you have suffered similar attacks in the past, and even lost family members. We were blessed that no one was killed this time.” He paused and let his gaze roam the pews. “So I know you will understand that the choice I'm about to put in front of you could be a matter of life and death.”

He had their attention now, even that of Waters's bunch, who had relaxed since the Englishman didn't seem about to accuse them of anything.

“At the barn raising, some of us men talked about building a fort atop the hill overlooking the ranch. As a sentinel post, it's a perfect place to build it, but my thoughts have changed on it somewhat.”

“What are you saying?”

“Yeah, spit it out, Englishman!”

“I think that should be the second fort, the lookout fort. The first fort should be erected right here in Simpson Creek.”

Now a hum of conversation rose again, and after a moment, Reverend Chadwick raised his hands for quiet.

“Comanche raids usually come without much warning, correct? And I'm told that the raids are expected to grow more frequent in the fall as the Indians steal what they need before they travel to their winter quarters.”

How clever of Nick to cite the informed opinion of the
cavalry major without identifying him, Milly thought, because many of the townspeople were predisposed to discount any opinion coming from a bluecoat.

“Many of you, I think, have wondered how it would be possible for you to reach the safety of the fort atop the hill if a band of braves suddenly appeared—and you're quite right—you might not have time. However, you
could
make it to a fort right here in Simpson Creek. Therefore, I am proposing we build a fort in town, and because we believe so deeply in this project, the men of the Matthews ranch will start work as soon as the site is chosen, and we'll work right alongside everyone else—or alone. We'll be there either way, because we value the town of Simpson Creek and want safety for its citizens.” He paused to let his words sink in, and during this time Milly looked around her. Faces were thoughtful, heads were nodding. She could hear them reminding each other how some communities had “forted up” in abandoned garrisons during the war when the Comanches had roamed the state almost unopposed.

Nick has them, she thought.

“I did say ‘the men of the Matthews ranch,' did you notice? I meant
all
of us—Josh, Bobby, me—and our four new hands, Elijah, Isaiah, Micah and Caleb Brown.”

Silence cloaked the room as everyone looked at everyone else—and then all gazes were trained on Waters, Dayton and the others of the Circle to see what their reaction would be.

They were silent, impassive, their arms crossed, as if by remaining immobile they could stop what was coming.

“I think it's only fair when a person is being talked about that he be present, don't you?” Nick went on. “Gentlemen, will you come in?”

The door that led from the pastor's study to the sanctuary opened, and out walked Elijah, Isaiah, Caleb and Micah Brown, eyes wary but heads held high. They had gone in there through the outside entrance during the service, Milly knew, and had been waiting there ever since.

Several people gasped aloud.

“How dare you?” shouted Waters, eyes bulging, his face red with fury. “We don't let those people in our
church!
”

Reverend Chadwick, who had been standing to the side of the front pew, raised an arm now. “These men are here with my permission, and I warn you, I'll take any insults or harm offered them as a personal affront. This is a church, and a church is sacred ground.”

Glaring, with his hands on his hips, Walters drawled, “I got a question for Miss Milly.”

Milly stood, wondering what he had in mind, and faced the older man. “I'm listening, Mr. Waters.”

“You 'n' Miss Sarah, you pay them boys up there?” He pointed a stubby, age-spotted finger at them. “Real money, that is?”

Milly felt hot anger knot her stomach. She knew what Waters was about now.

“No. At the present time, we can't afford to.”
Like many of you, the war left us cash-poor,
she wanted to say, but Waters had made it personal, and she would not take refuge in an easy excuse, however reasonable it
was. “They get room and board. But as the ranch begins to prosper again, we plan to—”

“My cowhands make twenty dollars a month,” Waters shot back. “And now you're proposing to have them labor to build the town a fort—hard work for men just getting room an' board, I'd say. How's that different from them bein' slaves? My pa had a few slaves once. That's all we ‘paid' them, too—room an' board.”

Milly felt her face flush. “I don't pay Nick anything either,” she argued. “Or—”

Waters interrupted with a suggestive snicker.

Milly's hands clenched at her side, but she knew she had to retain her dignity to keep the high ground. “And Josh or Bobby haven't been paid either, ever since the war began. You wouldn't call them slaves, would you?”