Cowboy Homecoming. Louise Gouge M.

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СКАЧАТЬ understanding when a need arises like Mrs. Foster’s. And, after all, another unattached lady and gentleman live here, and no one has considered it improper.”

      “Good to hear.” Tolley grinned, his relief apparent.

      Laurie considered what to do next. “I’ll see what I can find in the kitchen for supper.”

      “I planned fried chicken, dear,” Mrs. Foster said. “Would you mind—Ow, oh, dear...” She gripped her injured arm with her free hand.

      “Ma’am,” Doc said, “if you don’t object, I’m going to give you a dose of laudanum. A good rest will help you to heal.”

      “Oh, my.” She gave him a doubtful look. “I suppose so.”

      “Fried chicken coming up.” Laurie hoped her cheerful tone would encourage Mrs. Foster. She hadn’t cooked in two years, but it should be like riding a horse. Once in the saddle or, in this case, the kitchen, everything should come back to her. Or so she hoped.

      Doc gave Mrs. Foster her laudanum and instructed Laurie on subsequent doses. Then the three of them left her to rest and went downstairs.

      “I know you’ll manage things here, sis.” Doc patted Laurie on the shoulder. “I’ll send Maisie over to check on you later this evening.”

      “I’ll be fine, although I do need to let Ma and Pa know where I’m staying. Maybe Georgia could pack more clothes for me and bring them to town.”

      “When Adam Starling comes by to see if we need anything, I’ll send him out to the ranch to arrange it.” Toting his black satchel, he headed for the front door.

      “I guess I’d better see about supper.” Laurie glanced through the large opening to the parlor, where she’d spent countless days taking piano lessons from Mrs. Foster. The old upright piano still sat in the corner, an embroidered linen runner protecting its mahogany top. The house appeared spotless. How did Mrs. Foster do all the cooking and laundry and also clean her boarders’ rooms? Laurie moved toward the kitchen door. “First I should clean up the stairs.”

      “What should I do?” Tolley followed her.

      “Peel some potatoes and—”

      Before she could finish, the front door opened, and Mrs. Runyan walked in. The short, middle-aged woman set her parasol in the hall tree by the door and took a step toward the staircase. Seeing Laurie and Tolley, she stopped and gasped, her brown eyes wide with shock.

      “What on earth is going on here?”

      Behind her, a well-dressed gentleman entered the house. “Who are you people?” He removed his black bowler hat, narrowed his already beady eyes and glared at Laurie first, then at Tolley.

      Tolley stood so close to her she could feel him bristling. The boy she’d grown up with had a quick temper, so the accusatory looks in the boarders’ eyes might easily set him off. She stepped in front of him.

      “Mrs. Runyan, how nice to see you. And you must be Mr. Parsley.” She reached out to the short, slender gentleman. “How do you do? I’m Laurie Eberly. This is Bartholomew Northam.”

      “Indeed!” The man moved back and stared at her hand like it was a rattlesnake. A growl rumbled in Tolley’s throat, and even Laurie battled with her temper. But an angry retort wouldn’t solve anything.

      “Mrs. Foster had an accident. We are her lifelong friends, and we came to help.” She could hear the snippiness in her own voice at his suggestion of impropriety.

      “Indeed?” Mrs. Runyan looked at her up and down, then did the same to Tolley. “Am I to understand you two unattached young people will both be residing here to assist her?”

      Laurie bit her lip. Apparently the woman had no interest in learning what happened to Mrs. Foster.

      “Yes, we’ll be residing here.” Tolley moved toward Mrs. Runyan, towering over her, and gave her a deceptively charming smile. “Like you and Mr. Parsley.”

      Mrs. Runyan gasped. “Why, you impudent young man. I am a respectable widow and a gifted milliner. The wealthiest ladies in town patronize my shop. I am above reproach.”

      After looking down his long, pointed nose at Mrs. Runyan, Mr. Parsley lifted his equally pointed chin. “I am an important businessman.” He sniffed with indignation. “People come from all over the San Luis Valley and beyond to engage my watchmaking services.”

      “Well,” Laurie chirped. Apparently neither of these newcomers knew the Eberlys and Northams were the founding families of Esperanza. “Now we all know who we are. What are we going to do to help our dear Mrs. Foster? Mrs. Runyan, would you be so kind as to help me prepare supper? And Mr. Parsley, perhaps you could bring in some firewood?”

      Although obviously not friends, the two boarders gasped together as if they were a Greek chorus.

      “Help you? The very idea!” Mrs. Runyan placed a hand on her chest and stepped back. “I pay for my room and board in this establishment, and I expect my supper to be served promptly at seven.”

      Barely able to comprehend the woman’s hauteur, Laurie looked to the man.

      “As I have already informed you, I am a watchmaker. Do you have any idea how delicate my hands are? How I must protect them?” He clutched the appendages to his chest and huffed. “Carry wood? How insulting.” He marched up the front staircase, stopping halfway. “Friends of Mrs. Foster or not, rest assured I shall watch you two young people. One small inappropriate step, and I shall vacate the premises and move to the hotel.”

      “Humph.” Mrs. Runyan began her own march up the stairs, but obviously couldn’t permit the watchmaker to outdo her with his arrogance. “Breakfast at eight a.m. Supper at seven sharp. My room is to be cleaned weekly, and I expect clean linens every week, or I shall find other accommodations. Is that understood, Miss Eberly?”

      “Why, you—” Tolley lifted a scolding finger.

      Again, Laurie stepped in front of him, this time elbowing him hard in the ribs. She covered his startled “oof” with “Why, of course, Mrs. Runyan. Breakfast at eight. And tonight, supper at seven sharp.” She barged through the swinging kitchen door, trying to quell her anger at the two selfish boarders. Did they have no compassion? Didn’t they know people out here in the West took care of one another?

      “Why’d you do that?” Tolley followed her into the kitchen, one hand on his rib cage. “You have sharp elbows.”

      She rolled her eyes as she spun around to face him. “Don’t you be giving me trouble, too.”

      He held up both hands in a pose of surrender. “Hey, take it easy. This isn’t all on you, y’know. I’ll help with the chores.”

      She exhaled in relief. “Thank you. That’s what I needed to hear. Now, while I start the chicken, would you please peel the potatoes and then clean up the back stairs?”

      “Wait. What? I didn’t mean I’d do women’s work.”

      The puzzlement on his handsome face would be humorous if he hadn’t just dashed Laurie’s hopes of getting real, actual help in making sure Mrs. Foster’s СКАЧАТЬ