Cowgirl for Keeps. Louise M. Gouge

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СКАЧАТЬ had been his cry to the Almighty since losing all of his expectations, and would continue to be until his dying day.

      * * *

      Rosamond Northam waited until she and Beryl Eberly sat down in the first-class coach before venting her indignation. Even when she did, the lessons learned at Boston’s Fairfield Young Ladies’ Academy didn’t fail her.

      “Gracious, what an arrogant man.” She spoke in a soft tone, holding back harsher words she’d have used three years ago. Being back home in Colorado, back among her own people, would challenge every lesson she’d learned, especially when a foreigner—an Englishman at that—criticized her beloved homeland, particularly the state of Colorado.

      “His friend seemed pleasant enough.” Beryl spoke wistfully and stared out the window as if searching for the men. “Dignified, too.”

      “Don’t look for them.” Rosamond gently patted Beryl’s hand, her heart twisting with concern.

      “I wonder if they’ll be on this train.” Beryl glanced over her shoulder and gasped softly. “They’re sitting back there on the other side. Do you suppose we could meet them?”

      “Shh!” Rosamond sent her a scolding frown. “No, we can’t meet them. Why would you want to? If anything, I’d like to show the dark-haired man just how unrefined we can be, as in behaving in our old cowgirl ways, talking loudly with improper grammar.” She smothered an undignified giggle and risked a quick look their way. My, the dark-haired man was handsome to a fault. Too bad good manners didn’t accompany that well-formed face and physique. “But someone else in this coach may be traveling to Esperanza. Our school’s reputation would be ruined before we even build it if we teachers behave in an unseemly fashion.”

      Beryl’s face lit briefly with humor. “That dandy could use a comeuppance, but I wouldn’t wish to offend his friend.” She settled back in the leather seat and gazed out the window again.

      Rosamond’s heart ached for Beryl. The middle child in a family of five girls, she’d been every bit a cowgirl like the rest of them until she had been shot during a bank robbery and almost died. Rosamond and the five Eberly girls had grown up riding, shooting, branding—anything a cowboy did. But Rosamond’s family had three grown sons and a passel of hired hands to tend to the many duties around Four Stones Ranch, so her parents agreed to her dream to build a high school for Esperanza. With the Lord’s blessing, they could construct the school this summer and open it in September. Rosamond hoped Beryl’s parents would let her teach rather than return her to ranching.

      A well-dressed older couple took the two seats facing the girls. On the trip across the country, other such couples and matrons had offered themselves as chaperones, and these two did the same, engaging Rosamond and Beryl in conversation and keeping at bay undesirable men. The lady smelled of rosewater just like Mother, and the gentleman of cherry tobacco like Father. What pleasant reminders of home. Upon the couple’s arrival, Rosamond saw Beryl relax a little. Perhaps her interest in meeting the young man was generated by a desire to feel safe. Rosamond could find no fault in that. Maybe the Lord would make a way for Beryl to meet the nicer Englishman, hopefully without his arrogant friend nearby to crush her spirits.

      For her own part, at twenty-one, she’d given up on romance. None of the eligible men she’d met in Boston had found her personal ambitions compatible with their need for a docile Society wife. Nor did she wish to assume the many responsibilities of a rancher’s wife. Without doubt, God called her to educate the youth of Esperanza; therefore, she’d be a spinster.

      The train chugged out of the station and rumbled southward along the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains, where the morning sun illuminated snowy peaks. Rosamond drank in the beloved sights of her home state. Later they passed Pikes Peak, and in time her beloved Sangre de Cristo Range came into view. Her heart skipped. She would arrive home in just one more day.

      * * *

      After a night in a Walsenburg hotel, Rosamond and Beryl boarded the westbound train for their last day of travel. Rosamond sat on the aisle in the middle of the car and whispered to Beryl. “Don’t look now, but those sissified Englishmen boarded after us.” She nodded toward the closed window. “You can see their reflections.”

      Beryl’s face brightened for the first time since they’d awakened that morning. The closer they traveled toward home, the bleaker her mood. Too bad a handsome foreigner was the one to cheer her. To Rosamond’s dismay, her friend did turn. And look. And smile!

      “Tst!” Rosamond kept her voice low. “Don’t do that. Remember our lessons in deportment. It just isn’t done.”

      “I know.” Beryl sighed. “He started to tip his hat, but his friend stopped him.”

      “What?” Rosamond glanced back at the other man. He tilted his head, and surprise crossed his well-formed countenance. He seemed about to smile. With a haughty sniff and lift of her chin, she faced the front. That snob kept his friend from showing a common courtesy to a tender soul like Beryl and then attempted to flirt with her. The very idea!

      The train moved forward, and Rosamond’s heart skipped. They’d be home by midafternoon.

      “Let’s talk about our plans.” She must divert Beryl’s attention from the Englishmen. Although they’d exhausted just about every subject during their long trip, she never tired of her favorite one. “I’m thankful Father’s already approved the building of the school, but I hope he’ll let me supervise its construction.”

      “Aren’t four classrooms too many?” Beryl chewed her lip, and Rosamond reminded her with a quick shake of her head to stop that bad habit. “With only the two of us teaching...”

      “I’d really like more rooms, but I think four is a good start.” Rosamond’s heart raced. Soon she’d put her ideas to work. “We’ll need to hire more teachers before you know it. Maybe we should build two stories from the outset.”

      Beryl nodded absently. From the way she kept turning her head to the side, Rosamond knew she wanted to look back at the blond man. If propriety didn’t dictate otherwise, she’d have made sure her friend met him before the train reached Esperanza simply to annoy his companion. She quickly dismissed the thought. She’d put aside such spitefulness seven years ago when she’d become a Christian. How could she ask the Lord to bless her endeavors when her behavior didn’t show His love to others? Even to rude Englishmen.

      The train began to build up speed for the ascent to La Veta Pass. Rosamond always found this part of the trip exhilarating. Soon they’d be in the midst of the Sangre de Cristos. As a token of promise, fresh, crisp air seeped into the car beneath its front door and around the windows. She inhaled a long, satisfying breath and smiled in anticipation of seeing her dreams come true.

      The moment the train began to accelerate, however, it slowed to a halt, the wheels squealing in protest against the iron rails.

      “Wake up, Abel.” A woman of perhaps thirty years, seated up front and facing the rest of the car, shook her sleeping husband. “Something’s wrong.” Abel slept on, clearly unconcerned, his head resting back against the front wall, arms crossed, legs stretched out and a wide-brimmed hat pulled over his face.

      Beryl grasped Rosamond’s arm. “Why are we stopping?”

      “Shh. There, there.” She patted Beryl’s hand. “I’m sure it’s fine. Probably something on the tracks. The men will see to it.” Lord, please let it be something as simple as that.

      Instead, СКАЧАТЬ