Cowboy Homecoming. Louise Gouge M.

stew simmered in the cast-iron Dutch oven. She retrieved the peeled potatoes and carrots from the icebox and added them to the meat. Next came the dinner rolls. Earlier, she’d made the dough, so she needed only to shape it into balls to rise again on the baking sheet. That done, she double-checked the cooling apple pie she’d made earlier from last year’s fruit. Mrs. Foster had harvested the green apples from the tree in her yard, then sliced and dried them so she could provide this dessert to her boarders all year long.

      After her first disastrous attempt at cooking supper, Laurie quickly learned to manage the stove. She figured out how to adjust the flue and how to move the wood around to control the heat for both the oven and the stovetop. Although Mrs. Runyan and Mr. Parsley remained hard to please, their complaints often seemed petty, perhaps even an attempt to outdo each other with displeasure. Laurie knew some cowboys here in the San Luis Valley who competed on anything from horse races to eating pie. At least Tolley offered compliments about the food, as did Mrs. Foster when Laurie carried her meal up before serving the others.

      That evening, according to their plan, Tolley offered the blessing for supper and then introduced the subject of the bathroom to the other boarders. It took a moment for either one to grasp the idea. Then the comments began, as she and Tolley expected.

      “Why, the very idea!” Mrs. Runyan served herself a large portion of pot roast.

      “Humph! Never heard of such a thing.” Mr. Parsley ladled gravy over his potatoes.

      “There goes modesty out the window.” Mrs. Runyan waved her fork in the air to emphasize her complaint. “Where I come from, bathing in a tub is considered indecent.”

      “You’d better not make noise and disturb my rest.”

      “You’d better not work on Sundays.”

      As the meal progressed, they continued to make disparaging remarks, seeming to vie for the most indignant expression of outrage.

      She could see Tolley clench his jaw as he struggled to control his temper, so she sent him a meaningful glare. He’d promised her he wouldn’t answer the others’ insults. They both needed to remember Mrs. Foster didn’t want to lose her boarders.

      “Well!” Mrs. Runyan shot a cross look at Laurie and then Tolley. “At least you’ll be too busy to get into mischief.”

      Mr. Parsley blinked and sputtered, clearly outdone. After a moment, he took his last bite of potato. “Miss Eberly, I do hope you have dessert for me. My room-and-board payment includes dessert after every supper.”

      Laurie could hardly keep from rolling her eyes.

      “Yes, of course, Mr. Parsley.” She stood and began to clear the empty plates. “It’ll only take a moment to whip the cream.”

      She carried the stack of plates toward the kitchen and backed through the swinging door. But she couldn’t miss his comment. “Don’t take too long. You should have—”

      She let the door swing closed, cutting off the rest of his complaint. Taking the cold bowl of cream from the icebox, she whipped it vigorously with Mrs. Foster’s new rotary eggbeater, taking out her annoyance on the hapless liquid. This wasn’t funny anymore. Pleasing these grumpy boarders seemed impossible. Only Tolley’s presence kept her calm.

      * * *

      “What do you think?” Early Saturday morning, Tolley stood inside the small room, Adam at his side as he considered the layout of the bathroom. “Any ideas about where to start?” He already had his own plans but wanted to hear the younger man’s opinions.

      “Seems your water pipes will need to come up about here.” Adam pointed to a spot a few feet from the west window and close to the small cast-iron stove. “Drainage over there.” He indicated another spot close to the same wall. “And the vent pipe directly above it.”

      “We should take out this west window and board up the hole. Otherwise, it’ll be pretty cold in here for bathing.”

      “No, you don’t.” Laurie appeared in the doorway. “We need the ventilation.”

      Tolley shook his head. “There’s your ventilation.” He pointed to the open north window, where frilly white curtains fluttered in the breeze. “That’ll be enough. In the winter, the cross breeze would freeze the water in the fixtures.”

      “Cross ventilation works better to keep mildew from forming.”

      Tolley looked at Adam for support.

      Adam shrugged. “Don’t suppose the window needs to be boarded up. That woodstove should keep it warm enough.”

      Laurie gave Tolley a triumphant smile.

      “Aren’t you supposed to be fixing breakfast?” His stomach had growled for a good half hour.

      “It’s in the oven and will be ready at eight o’clock sharp.” Another triumphant smile.

      Something kicked up inside of Tolley’s chest. She looked awful cute when she smiled that way, with that sassy dimple making a rare appearance. If she kept on looking at him, he might just give her whatever she wanted. Except he’d built a house and a high school and knew far more than she did about such things. He pulled out his pocket watch.

      “My, my, look at the time.” He showed her the timepiece, which read seven fifty-seven. “This is set to railroad time.”

      “Oh! I thought—” She hurried from the room.

      Adam appeared to hide a chuckle, then sobered. “Mr. Northam, do you mind if I make a suggestion?”

      “You have some advice for dealing with females?”

      Now Adam laughed out loud. “No, sir. I don’t know nothing...anything...about females. But I did help out a bit over at the hotel when they were putting in the washrooms.”

      “Ah, very good.” Tolley looked at the youth with a new appreciation. “What’s your suggestion?”

      “First, you gotta make sure the structure can bear the weight of a water-filled tub.” He waved a hand over the bare floor. “We should probably pull up a board or two and check the strength of the wood underneath.”

      Tolley nodded. The idea made sense. “Shall we get started?”

      “I wish I could, sir.” Adam shook his head. “This being Saturday, lots of folks come into town, so Mr. Russell needs me over at the livery stable.” He cast a worried look at Tolley. “I can help on Monday...unless you want to find someone else to work for you today?”

      Tolley clapped him on the shoulder. “Nope. I’ll need your experience, so I can wait until Monday.”

      “Thank you, sir.” The relief on Adam’s face touched something deep inside of Tolley. Maybe this project wasn’t only about helping Mrs. Foster.

      Later, as Tolley sat at the desk in his room sketching possible layouts for the bathroom fixtures, a knock sounded on his door.

      “Tolley, Rosamond and Garrick came to see you,” Laurie called. “They’re downstairs.”

      Rosamond! His family hadn’t entirely deserted him. “I’ll be right down.”

      He quickly donned his suit jacket, mainly to look good for his always well-dressed English brother-in-law, and started for the door. On a whim, he grabbed the sketches. Maybe Garrick could give him some advice about adapting the room.

      Halfway down the stairs, another thought struck him. Had they come with news of the Colonel? Had his father died?

      “Tolley!” Rosamond rushed into his arms and held him fast.

      As he enfolded her in a firm embrace, his sketches fluttered to the floor.

      Over her shoulder Garrick wore an unreadable expression. But then, he was English, so most of his expressions were unreadable.

      Tolley