Cowgirl for Keeps. Louise Gouge M.

Englishman? Never in a million years. But when Father gave an order, not one of his children ever succeeded in dissuading him from his purpose.

Chapter Two

      To Garrick’s shock, Miss Northam’s horrified expression conveyed only disdain for him. While Colonel Northam walked away to welcome the lawman who’d traveled with them, Garrick scrambled to recall any way by which he might have offended the young lady. Perhaps Percy could help him.

      Percy, however, had located their valets and, with the help of the three Northam brothers, was seeing to their luggage. Each cowboy effortlessly carried a trunk to a nearby wagon, an impressive feat. Or should he refer to them as ranchers instead of cowboys, since they were sons of a landowner? In England, such an erroneous form of address could cause severe embarrassment, even censure if a person of influence took offense at the misnomer. No doubt these Americans had a similar custom, even in their uncivilized land.

      Ah, that was it. In the Denver train station, Miss Northam must have overheard him disparaging her country. Even before meeting her, he’d destroyed every chance of obtaining her good opinion. And her father expected him to work alongside her, to actually consult with her? With her aloof disposition and his plans already well-formed, that would be disastrous.

      Apparently unaware of his daughter’s or Garrick’s chagrin, Colonel Northam sent his son Nate to show the lawman around the town. Equally unaware, Mrs. Northam gave instructions as to which conveyance each person should ride in to the ranch. Rand drove the box wagon with Garrick’s valet beside him and Percy’s valet perched precariously on a trunk. A third brother, whose name Garrick couldn’t recall, rode on horseback. Colonel and Mrs. Northam took the front seat of a surrey while Miss Northam squeezed in between Garrick and Percy in back.

      Glancing around, Garrick observed the nearly empty station platform. Only the harried mother from Denver remained with her children. She and Adam appeared to be searching for someone. Garrick prayed their person would arrive soon so the poor woman could get some assistance. Again, circumstances prevented him from helping, but Adam held little Jack’s hand firmly, so Garrick dismissed his fears.

      They drove down the street—a lofty term for these dusty roads—with Colonel Northam pointing out various establishments: the general store, the new jail, the bank, a café. “And that’s the site of the hotel.” He swung out one arm in a grand gesture, as though showing off an elegant manor house.

      All Garrick saw was a large, roped off plot of grassless land, large stacks of wood and what appeared to be building supplies under canvas tarpaulins. “Ah, very good, sir.” At least the plot was a decent size. With no close buildings to limit expansion, perhaps they could purchase more property nearby. After all, they’d need outbuildings such as a stable and a laundry—mundane things Garrick had never thought of before Uncle handed him this assignment.

      The Colonel’s tour over, he turned the horses down a southbound highway and began to speak quietly to his wife.

      The cozy seating arrangement would have been decidedly pleasant if not for Miss Northam’s stiff posture and the firm line of her full lips. Again she reminded Garrick of his formidable governess. But should they come into conflict over the hotel, he would not defer to this American miss as he had to Miss Shaw. Perhaps, now that they’d met, he should take a reading of her amenability by engaging her in chitchat.

      Percy spoke first. “I say, Miss Northam, do you suppose your friend is well?”

      She scolded him with a frown and a quick shake of her head and then spoke in a bright tone. “Indeed she is. Her sisters brought her mare so they could race home. She always finds a brisk ride exhilarating.”

      “Ah, very good.” Percy relaxed. “I enjoy a brisk ride, as well.” He gazed off thoughtfully, and Garrick could well imagine he was devising a plan to see her. “Would it be impertinent of me to ask her name?”

      Miss Northam hesitated before saying, “Not impertinent at all. Beryl Eberly. The Eberly family owns the ranch west of ours.”

      “Beryl Eberly.” Percy spoke the name reverently, as Romeo might say Juliet. “Lovely. And just a short walk away.”

      Miss Northam smiled. “A short ride. An impossible walk. I’ll take you there tomorrow and introduce you.”

      Garrick wished her smile were aimed at him, but he supposed that was too much to ask. In any event, from the way she issued orders with a mere frown, he could see Miss Northam and he were utterly incompatible.

      “I shall hold you to it, Miss Northam.” Percy beamed in his boyish way, in spite of his twenty-four years. How uncomplicated his life was.

      “Please call me Rosamond. We’re not formal out here.”

      Vacillating once again in his feelings toward her, Garrick wanted to ask if the invitation were open to him, as well. The words stuck in his throat. After all, in England one only used Christian names with family or very close friends, and certainly not with new acquaintances. And now that he’d considered this entire situation, he wondered whether Uncle had made a serious error in judgment. If Colonel Northam possessed sufficient wealth to enter a business arrangement such as the hotel, why hadn’t his servants managed the baggage instead of his sons? Garrick would have to ascertain how much the Northams were investing in the project before he committed any of Uncle’s funds. If the Colonel had taken advantage of his trusting nature, Garrick would put an end to such duplicity.

      * * *

      She shouldn’t have promised to introduce Percy to Beryl. Shouldn’t have said anything about her friend’s preferences. But she needed an excuse to check on Beryl rather than waiting to see her in church on Sunday. For now, she found being seated in between the two Englishmen a grand metaphor for the tight spot Father had put her in. This evening she must speak to him privately and remind him about her plans to build a high school, plans he’d agreed to months ago. Once she began her own work, she’d be too busy to help Mr. Wakefield with the hotel.

      Yet even as she tried to divert her thoughts, ideas came unbidden to her mind. The Walsenburg hotel, where the train passengers had laid over last night, was a pleasant establishment with sufficient amenities to satisfy people passing through. But she could envision something on a grander scale, such as Boston’s Parker House, only with a Western theme. Miss Pam Williams’s rolls were every bit as delicious as Parker House rolls. They could hire her to manage the restaurant and cook her special Western recipes for the guests.

      Rosamond would find ways to make visitors at the hotel feel at home while they took one- or two-day trips to the various wonders around the San Luis Valley: the sand dunes, Raspberry Gulch, La Garita Arch, the recently discovered Indian wall paintings. They could go fishing on the Rio Grande or swimming in San Luis Lake. Memories of childhood excursions filled her mind. So many opportunities for tourists to enjoy. Maybe one of her brothers could establish a guide business to work out of the hotel.

      The top story of her family’s ranch house came into view, and all such plans vanished. Home! What a wonderful, beautiful place. After two and a half years away, she felt a lump rising in her throat.

      Father turned the buggy down Four Stones Lane and drove to the front door, probably because of their guests. Unless the family was holding a special event, everyone around here always came to the kitchen door, the neighborly thing to do. Rand did drive the wagon around back to carry the trunks up the back stairs. Tolley had ridden ahead to alert the household, so upon the travelers’ arrival, Rosamond’s sisters-in-law and their sweet babies poured out of the house to greet them.

      As always with her family, chaos reigned, especially when the dogs raced over from the barn to join the melee. She gave each family member an enthusiastic hug, cooing over her four-year-old niece, Lizzy, and eighteen-month-old nephew, Nate Jr., nicknamed Natty. Her newest nephew, Randy, melted her heart when he offered a smile that revealed one tiny tooth.

      The two Englishmen bore up fairly well, greeting Nate’s wife, Susanna, and Marybeth with impeccable manners. Mr.