Cowboy Homecoming. Louise Gouge M.

hugged Johnny closer. In spite of all the evil Hardison had done, she couldn’t shrug off the dreadful thought of his eternal destination, one of his own choosing.

      The surgery’s pocket doors slid open, and Doc appeared in the hallway carrying one end of a stretcher. Deputy Gareau, whose first name, Justice, was appropriate for his work, held up the back end. Mr. Macy, the undertaker, trailed behind. A white sheet covered a body so thin it seemed nearly flat. A murmur went through the waiting area, some saying, “Good riddance.”

      Maisie faced the group. “Folks, as soon as I can clean the surgery and Doc finishes up with Mr. Macy, we’ll take care of you.” She entered the room and slid the pocket doors shut.

      Dismissing her dismal thoughts about the lost outlaw, Laurie gave Johnny another hug. Maisie needed help, so she’d make herself useful. In Denver, she’d missed the sisterly camaraderie the five of them shared. Had missed lifelong friends, even a rascal like Tolley Northam. Would miss them again when she moved back to the city for good. Of course, she only felt sad about leaving because she loved them all so much. Once back in the city teaching at the conservatory and giving concerts, she’d be happy again. Of course she would.

      * * *

      Mrs. Foster welcomed Tolley like a long-lost son but asked for time to prepare his room, so he spent the night at the hotel. When he returned the next morning, she showed him to his room.

      “I have only two other boarders,” Mrs. Foster said, “but other than mealtimes, they mostly keep to themselves. Mrs. Runyan is the milliner, and Mr. Parsley is a watchmaker. Their shops are over at the hotel.”

      “Thank you for the room, ma’am.” Tolley glanced around the spacious, modestly furnished chamber. “You let me know if I can help with anything.”

      “Why, I’ll do that, Tolley. Such a kind offer. Adam Starling does a bit of work for me, but he has other jobs around town, so he’s not always available. He’s supporting his family, you know.”

      “Yes, ma’am. I know.” Yesterday had been the hardest day of Tolley’s life, but at least money wasn’t a problem. With a sick father, seventeen-year-old Adam bore a heavy load as the man of his family. Tolley’s own father lay ill, too, but nobody needed him to step in and take charge. Nobody needed him at all.

      That afternoon, boots off and jacket hanging over the back of a desk chair, he lay on his bed. A warm, pleasant breeze blew in through the open window, fluttering the frilly white curtains and making him drowsy. He’d never realized how tiring travel could be. He’d spent five days and nights on various trains as he crossed the country. With the added emotional shock of the Colonel’s illness and his own exile from home, he felt as beaten down as if he’d walked all the way from Boston. Sleep beckoned, and he relaxed into the comfortable feather mattress. After all, no one needed him. No one even wanted him. Maybe when he set up his law office...

      A hard thump, followed by a scream, woke him with a start.

      A weak voice called out, “Lord, help me.”

      “Mrs. Foster!”

      Tolley shook off sleep and dashed from the room. At the bottom of the back staircase, Mrs. Foster lay in a heap, a tin bucket beside her and water covering the stairs and the lady’s skirt. She groaned softly. Taking care not to slip, Tolley descended, soaking his socks in the process.

      Mrs. Foster’s eyes filled with tears as she cradled one arm in the other. One black high-top shoe stuck out at an odd angle from beneath the hem of her black muslin skirt.

      Heart in his throat, Tolley forced away his horror. “Dear lady, what can I do to help? Shall I carry you up to your room?” Painfully thin, she’d make a light burden.

      She shook her head. “Let me catch my breath.” Trembling, she stifled another whimper. “I think my arm is broken.”

      “Then I shouldn’t move you. Will you be all right while I fetch Doc Henshaw?”

      Biting her lip, she nodded.

      Coatless, hatless and bootless, Tolley didn’t bother going upstairs to retrieve his garments. He hurried out the back door and across the yard, taking a shortcut through gardens and over fences until he reached Doc Henshaw’s kitchen door, his feet muddy and sore. Unlike in Boston where everyone came to the front door, in Esperanza people generally came to back entrances, at least at the homes of their friends. While he pounded on the door, he realized his mistake. If Doc was home, he’d be working in his surgery at the front of the house.

      To his surprise, Laurie opened the door, a red-haired baby on her hip. She looked a bit frazzled and beyond adorable. But he mustn’t waste time on such foolish thoughts.

      “Tolley, what on earth?”

      “Mrs. Foster fell down the stairs.” He paused to catch his breath. “She thinks her arm may be broken.”

      “Oh, no!” Laurie thrust the infant into his arms and hurried from the room.

      The baby gave him a startled look and then burst into tears, his cries reaching a high pitch any Boston soprano would be proud of.

      “Um, uh, there, there. Shh, shh.” Tolley bounced the little one and gave him a silly grin, which did nothing at all to calm the child.

      Maisie entered the kitchen, worry written across her pretty face. “Thank you, Tolley. Here’s Mommy, my sweet darlin’.” She took her son. His wailing ceased, but he eyed Tolley with a wary look. “Doc and Laurie went out the front door.” She glanced toward the door leading to the rest of the house.

      Suddenly embarrassed, he gave her a sheepish grin. What had the neighbors thought of a man running through their backyards? “Thanks, Maisie. I’ll walk around the house so I won’t track up your floors.”

      As he stepped off the back porch, Maisie called out, “Welcome home, Tolley.”

      Appreciating her kind words, he grinned and waved over his shoulder.

      * * *

      “Laurie, will you get some towels?” Doc knelt beside Mrs. Foster, tending her ankle.

      “On the table.” Mrs. Foster waved her uninjured hand toward the kitchen, then grabbed her other arm and bit her lip.

      Laurie hurried to do as Doc asked. A stack of neatly folded ivory linen towels sat on the kitchen table. This must be laundry day at the boardinghouse, because other clean items filled a wicker basket nearby, probably awaiting ironing. Did Mrs. Foster do laundry for her boarders? Ironing? The thought didn’t sit well with Laurie. She picked up three of the large towels, thinking of the work involved to make them so fresh-smelling and spotless.

      In the hallway, Doc gently examined Mrs. Foster’s foot. “Wrap a towel around her.” He covered her bare foot with another one.

      Following his orders, Laurie sat on the bottom step and pulled the shivering woman into her arms. Even though wetness seeped through her own skirt, she hoped her body heat would help warm her dear friend. “What happened?”

      “I’ve made a mess of things.” Mrs. Foster released a shaky laugh. “Was taking water upstairs to clean the floors before my boarders come home in another hour.”

      Laurie noticed the bucket. “She shouldn’t be carrying full buckets up these stairs.”

      Doc shook his head. “I’ve tried to tell her.”

      “What you didn’t tell me is how I’m gonna take care of my boarders if I don’t—”

      “That’s the last bucket you’ll carry.” Tolley appeared in the doorway to the front hall. “From now on, I’ll take care of hauling water.” He gave Laurie a gentle smile.

      Her heart popped right up into her throat. Because of his kind offer, of course, not because of that smile.

      “Hey, Tolley.” Doc spared him a glance as he continued his assessment of Mrs. Foster’s injuries. “Good thing you happened along