Cowboy Homecoming. Louise Gouge M.

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      He climbed the front staircase on wooden legs, fearing what he’d find at the end of the second-floor hallway. Gathering courage, he nudged the door open.

      Mother rose to greet him. “Tolley.” She spoke his name as if he’d only come in from milking the cows, at the same time moving between him and the four-poster bed where the Colonel lay. But Mother was too short to hide Tolley’s view of the motionless figure lying there, his full bush of dark hair shot through with far more strands of white than when Tolley left home. He pulled her into a gentle embrace and kissed the top of her head.

      “How is he?” He whispered the question, even though the Colonel appeared beyond hearing. The old man’s eyes were closed, and his complexion, weathered to a deep tan by a lifetime in the sun, bore a gray pallor.

      She sniffed and dabbed her cheeks with a handkerchief. “Still with us. Doc gives us hope—” She choked on the word.

      A movement on his right caught his attention.

      “Welcome home, Tolley.” Doc Henshaw stepped near him and reached out to shake his hand. “Let’s go out to the hall.” Still gripping Tolley’s hand, he urged him out of the room as though he had no right to be there. “I’ve reason to believe he can hear, so it’s best to discuss his condition out here,” he whispered.

      Breaking away from Doc, Tolley couldn’t keep anger from his voice. “Are my brothers and Rosamond allowed to see him?”

      Doc gave him a sad smile, but didn’t answer.

      “Why can’t I see him? If he can hear, can’t I tell him I’m home?”

      “Soon enough. I’m still assessing his condition.” Doc clapped him gently on the shoulder. “Why don’t you settle in? You must be tired from your trip.”

      Every instinct told him to force his way back into the sickroom so he could see for himself how his father fared. But instinct had been his worst enemy while he grew up, getting him into more scrapes than he could remember. Old Reverend Harris in Boston taught him to be more thoughtful and to take more time to make decisions.

      “All right.” He turned away from the now-closed door. Didn’t Mother even want to see him? To welcome him home with more than a brief embrace?

      He walked down the hallway to his bedroom and opened the door.

      “Shh.” Rita, the family housekeeper, rose from a rocking chair and hurried toward him. “The little ones are sleeping, Senor Tolley.” Whispering, she waved a hand toward two small heads at rest on his pillow and a cradle holding a red-haired doll that must be Rand’s new daughter. “Senora Northam uses this room as the nursery now. The children often come here.”

      Tolley’s knees threatened to buckle. So he couldn’t even find refuge in his old bedroom. Even his belongings were nowhere in sight. “I see. Very well.” He backed out into the hallway and made his way downstairs to the front parlor, where the others had gathered.

      His brothers had made no move to bring his trunks inside. In fact, the moment he entered the room, they traded guarded looks. Nate cleared his throat.

      “This all happened very suddenly, Tolley. Last night, when we heard about the Colonel’s...illness, Rand and I agreed we needed to move our families here so we can run the ranch and our wives can run the house. Then Mother won’t have to worry about a thing. We moved here this morning and, as you can see, it sort of makes for a full house.”

      Rosamond, always the protective big sister, came over and looped her arm in his. “We expected you to stay in Boston for another year.” Compassion filled her voice, making him uncomfortable. “To finish your schooling.”

      “I did finish.” He lifted his chin defensively and continued before they could ask questions. “I wrote to the Colorado attorney general in Denver. Judge Thomas sent me the paperwork, and based on my performance at Harvard, he’s accepted me into the Colorado judicial system. That’s more than a whole lot of so-called lawyers achieve all over the West where there’s no accountability. A lot of men hang out a shingle without even having any training.”

      Why did he always feel the need to defend himself, despite being twenty-two years old? It didn’t seem to matter how much he’d accomplished; they still treated him like the baby of the family. Wouldn’t they ever let him grow up? “I wrote to Mother about coming, but I asked her not to say anything. I wanted to surprise everyone else.”

      Silence filled the room. His brother-in-law, Garrick, joined Rosamond and took her hand. “Sweetheart, let’s have Tolley stay at the hotel until everything returns to normal.” His English accent no longer irritated Tolley, but his suggestion needled him. Moving to the hotel would be another way to separate him from his family during this terrible crisis.

      “Maybe Mrs. Foster has an empty room.” Marybeth spoke up. She’d lived in the widow’s boardinghouse before she married Rand. “It’ll be much homier than the hotel.” The pretty Irish lady gave Tolley a warm, sisterly smile, and the red curls around her ivory face momentarily reminded him of Laurie Eberly. Right now, he’d appreciate having Laurie around. At least she’d welcomed him home.

      Because Marybeth meant well with her suggestion, Tolley couldn’t fault her. Yet he remembered both she and Susanna actually employed deceit with the entire family when each one first came to Esperanza. Of course, after considerable turmoil in both cases, they’d ended up marrying his brothers, but not until after each one asked for forgiveness. Why could they be forgiven for their wrongdoing, but he couldn’t? Why was he always the one on the outside?

      “Sure.” He infused his voice with as much energy as he could. “I’ll go into town right now and see if Mrs. Foster has a room.” He headed for the back door, where he’d dropped his carpetbag. He’d saddle Thor to ride to town and leave his trunks for the cowhands to bring later. For now, he couldn’t wait to get away. No matter how his heart ached over his family’s rejection, he’d do what was best for everyone.

      He strode across the barnyard toward the weathered barn. A tiny figure in a blue gingham dress stood outside the main corral. Little Lizzie peered through the slats at the horses milling about. At least Lizzie had given Tolley a heartfelt welcome when he arrived.

      “Hey, sprout, what’s up?” He started to tousle her hair, but that would mess up her perfect blond braid. Instead, he patted her head.

      She looked up at him, her face streaked with tears. “Uncle Tolley, is Grampa going to die?”

      Tolley swallowed hard. “Naw. He’s too tough. Say, have you learned to ride yet?” He grabbed her waist and lifted her up to sit on the top rail, which brought on a bout of giggles, just as he’d hoped.

      “No, sir.” Lizzie’s blue eyes turned sad again. “Mama says I’m too young.”

      “Too young?” Tolley stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Aren’t you about twenty-five?”

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