To Tame a Cowboy (Colorado Cowboys #3)(2)
“Thank you, Silas.” Mr. Pritchard took his mount’s reins from the middle-aged groomsman.
Savannah handed Silas a haversack, hoping he wouldn’t question why she had the extra luggage. Of course, she always wore her leather satchel strapped diagonally over her shoulder whenever she went on calls with Mr. Pritchard. She was as prepared as the veterinarian for any animal ailment.
“Please tie the bag onto my saddle.” She hitched her foot in the stirrup and hefted herself up.
The groomsman stared from her to the haversack and back.
She pretended to ignore him, making a show of situating herself in the saddle.
Silas lifted the bag hesitantly.
“Hurry on up, Silas. Mr. Pritchard and I need to be on our way.” She arranged her split skirt on either side over the trousers she wore underneath and prayed Silas wouldn’t voice the question that filled his warm brown face.
He set to work looping a rope around her bag and securing it to the saddle. After cinching the last knot, he stood aside and hooked his fingers through his suspenders. “Sure are takin’ a lot with you, Miss Savannah.”
In the process of releasing a pent-up breath, her lungs tightened again, especially when Mr. Pritchard looked at the haversack and raised a brow.
She waved a hand to brush off the concern. “It’s just a few extra things. Nothing to worry about.”
Silas pursed his lips, the sure sign he didn’t believe her.
She nudged Molasses forward. Though the ranch hands would be awake and readying for the day in the predawn hour, their cabins and the livestock barns were located across the east pasture, well away from the main house. That meant she wouldn’t have to worry about running into Chandler or any of the other cowboys. But the house servants would be rousing soon enough, and she wanted to be on her way before anyone else saw her bag and wondered what she was up to.
“The master know where you going?” Silas called after her.
“Of course he does.” She could only pray her letter of explanation was enough. She’d left it in an envelope on the chest of drawers in her room. The servants would see it today when they went in to tidy and clean, but they’d leave it alone. When she didn’t come back, then Daddy would start investigating and find the note calling off the engagement.
After he read it, his shoulders would droop and the lines in his handsome face would deepen with more sadness.
Her throat tightened, and she blinked back tears. She had to stay strong. Surely after a few days he’d realize she’d been right to leave, that marriage was too big a commitment to enter into without making sure she was ready for it.
She hoped he’d come to that conclusion. If only he wasn’t struggling to make up for all the wealth he’d lost in the war . . . If only his and Momma’s future security didn’t depend on the union to Chandler . . .
Her horse trotted ahead of Mr. Pritchard down the lane leading away from the house. Darkness shrouded the landscape, but the starlight illuminated enough to see the rocky plains of the east rolling outward for miles and miles, all the way to Kansas and the Missouri River. Though the land wasn’t arable enough for farming, it was perfect for ranching, as Daddy had discovered shortly after the gold rush.
As one of the presidents of the Central of Georgia Railway, he’d sold off his stock in the company and invested in land out west before the start of the war. Savannah suspected he’d done so to avoid the growing conflict, especially to keep Hartley away from combat. Little good it had done. Hartley lived through the war years, but an accidental kick in the head from a horse had caused trauma to his brain and killed him just as surely as a battle wound.
As she unhitched the gate and guided Molasses under the metal sign that spelled out the name of their ranch, the Double L, she allowed herself a final look at the place that had been home for the past seven years, the mansion set against the backdrop of the red-rock sandstone formations and the mountains in the distance.
“Love you, Momma,” she whispered. “Love you, Daddy. I promise I’ll make this up to both of you.” The trouble was, she didn’t know how.
“First stop, Smith Fork Ranch.” Mr. Pritchard took a puff on his pipe and moseyed up next to her, the horses’ hooves loud against the hard earth. “They’ve got a couple of calves with scours.”
“And what about the Middletons? Their foal is having a hard time latching on.” The Middletons lived close to Fountain near Ute Pass, and she needed to reach the wagon road before the teamsters left so she could ride along with them for safety. The road leading up Ute Pass was one of the main transport routes through the Pike’s Peak region, winding through South Park and going all the way to Leadville.
Just last week Mr. Pritchard had mentioned the growth of ranches in the South Park area and that ranchers there wanted to hire a vet. He said he’d go himself if he were a younger, sturdier man who could handle the harsher conditions of the high country.
Ever since Mr. Pritchard brought it up, Savannah had been able to think of little else. She might not have gone to college or earned a degree like Mr. Pritchard, but he claimed she was as good as any vet he’d ever known.
Of course, the news of the need for a veterinarian had come just when the weddin’ pressures had been building to unbearable proportions. Then, yesterday, when she’d heard the teamsters were heading up into the mountains, she’d known this was her chance—maybe her last chance—to taste freedom before having to return to the paddock.