The Cowboy's City Girl (6 page)

He paused at the door, hating to take this information to the child. A surge of gratitude filled him knowing Beatrice would be there when he did.

As quietly as possible he opened the door and slipped in. At the sight before him, he paused and smiled. Dolly curled up like an overgrown kitten in the chair Maisie had previously occupied, her little kitten beside her.

Beatrice sat at the table, her head cradled in her arms on the well-worn wooden tabletop. All three of them—woman, child, cat—were sound asleep.

A sense of rightness stirred his senses. A feeling that this was the way his life should be. Coming home to a pretty young woman and a contented child.

His jaw muscles clenched. Helen had ruined that possibility for him with her judgmental ways. Not that she was entirely to blame. It's just that he had allowed himself to think she saw him differently.

But for just one moment he let himself think of a wife and family. Then with a quiet sigh he pushed his thoughts back to where they belonged and tiptoed to the table. He touched Beatrice's shoulder.

She jerked awake, looking confused, and then recognition dawned. “You're back.” She smiled.

Her smile was not one of welcome for him. At least that's what Levi told himself as he tamped down a matching response. “Shh.” He indicated the sleeping child. “Come outside. I'll tell you everything.”

Together they tiptoed to the door. He snagged a jacket from the nearby hook and draped it over her shoulders as they stepped outside. The night was cool and damp and filled with the scent of roses. Or was that Beatrice's unique scent? It must have been because he couldn't remember ever being so aware of the roses filling the air with their perfume before.

She turned to him, her features barely visible in the dark. He shifted so the glow from the window allowed him to see her face.

“Did you find them?” Her question jolted him back to reality.

He sought to find the right words. But how else could he say it but just say it? “I found the wagon a few miles away.” He drew in a deep breath. “A man and a woman were dead inside.”

She gasped. Her eyes widened.

Fearing she would faint again, he caught her shoulders and steadied her.

“She's an orphan? How awful. She tried to tell me.” The truth of the situation flooded her eyes with horror. “She was with them? How long have they been gone?”

He told her everything he knew. “It looks like they died of the influenza. The sheriff agreed. I took the wagon to town, where he arranged for a quick burial. He examined the contents of the wagon. Dolly is Dorothy Knott. The sheriff discovered information that she has an aunt Martha in Ohio and will send a telegram in the morning. The aunt will take care of Dolly once she can make arrangements.”

Beatrice shuddered. “The poor child. I keep thinking of her watching her parents die, being so alone and not knowing what to do. Oh, Levi, it's too awful to think about.”

At her agonized wail, he gripped her arms and she squeezed his. They held each other. He found comfort in her arms and hoped she found the same in his. Two people who barely knew each other united in their concern for an orphaned child.

“What's to become of her in the meantime?” Beatrice's voice was muffled.

“The sheriff suggested someone in town could care for her until her aunt arrives, but it didn't take him long to realize everyone was dealing with either illness or death. He asked if she could stay here for now.”

“You said yes?”

He inhaled the scent of roses, letting the smell soothe his senses. “I said it wasn't up to me.”

She drew back and looked into his face. “Who is it up to?” Her eyes searched his for the answer.

He didn't say anything but she must have read the answer in his face.

“Me? Why is it up to me?”

“You'll be the one responsible for her. You already have Maisie to care for and the house to run.”

She stepped back. “And you don't think I can manage Dolly, as well?”

The thought had crossed his mind. She admittedly lacked experience. “Are you familiar with caring for a child so young?”

Her shoulders rose and fell as if she drew in a deep breath. “I have not looked after any children. Just as I have not run a household or cared for a wound such as Maisie's, but I don't intend to let my lack of experience be a deterrent. I will gladly look after Dolly until her aunt comes or sends for her or whatever she decides to do.”

“You're sure?”

She presented him with a tilted chin. “Do you doubt I can do it?”

He grinned. “I would not be so foolish as to even suggest it. In fact, I hoped you'd agree, but you won't have to do it alone. I will help you in every way I can.”

“That's good to know.” Her shoulders sank. “Poor little Dolly.”

They stayed outside for some time, discussing the situation. He suspected she needed to talk about it as much as he did, as if they could somehow make sense of it. “Why would God let a little child's parents die?”

Beatrice tipped her head back and studied him, her gaze intense. He wished it was light enough he could hope to guess what she was thinking. “Weren't you Dolly's age when your mother died?”

“Five. Yes, I was. I hadn't thought about that.”

“Perhaps that's why Dolly ended up here—you should be able to understand what she's going through.”

“I haven't thought about it in years. But I remember the lonely ache that tore at my innards every night. Not until Maisie came to the ranch to help with me and my two older brothers did the ache abate.” He chuckled softly, bringing her questioning gaze to him. They no longer held each other's arms, but he was close enough he could watch her changing expression.

“Poor Dolly,” he said, remembering the confusion and pain of those first days after his ma died. “How will she understand her parents going to sleep and not waking up?”

Beatrice took his hand. “I don't suppose there is any way she can, but we must do our best to make her feel safe until her aunt can make arrangements.”

He clung to her touch, resisting an urge to crush her hand to his chest. “Pa must have understood how hard it was for me. He brought us a pup. Shep slept on my bed from the time he came and I fell asleep knowing he'd be there when I woke up.”

“Dolly has her kitten. She doesn't let it far from her sight.”

“I hope it comforts her.”

Beatrice smiled gently. “I believe it will and I believe God brought her here so we could help.”

They stood hand in hand looking at the house. He couldn't say what Beatrice thought, but he wished there was some way he could ease the pain little Dolly would have to face. “Pa did his best to take care of us boys. He took us with him on whatever job he had to do. Tanner and Johnny reveled in being allowed to ride along with Big Sam, but I often wished I could stay home and play quietly with my toys.”

“Dolly will stay with me. I'll do my best to see she gets what she needs.” Beatrice faced him squarely. “But I believe you will understand her needs far better than I can so I'm holding you to your promise to help with her.”

For a moment he faltered. He had to find the men who were bothering the place. He had chores to look after. He had Charlie to keep an eye on. And she had Maisie to take care of.

Were they doing the right thing in keeping Dolly? Though the sheriff had left them little alternative.

Even in the dim light he could see the challenge in her eyes. He would not let her down. “We're in this together.”

Chapter Five

H
is promise felt like so much more than concern over an orphaned child. For the first time ever, she felt as if she and a man were united in one purpose, together for more than personal gain. Her heart swelled with the idea.

Then she told herself to think sanely. She would accept his help with Dolly. Likely both she and the little girl would need it. But she would not allow dreams of anything more to cloud her judgment.

Standing close to him, holding his hand in the moonlight, surely proved how close she was to forgetting her words of caution and she slipped her hand to her side. “I better get Dolly into bed.”

He sprang away. “I brought her things. You'll be needing them.”

They hurried to the door, where Levi picked up a basket of little-girl things. “I'll take it to one of the bedrooms.” He ground to a halt inside the door and they watched Dolly sleeping with Smokey pressed to her chest.

Levi turned to Beatrice and commented, “She's a beautiful child. So fair.” He had taken off his hat and hung it on a hook and rubbed a hand over his head.

Beatrice wondered if he made a comparison between the child's fairness and his own dark skin and hair. From some of his earlier comments she understood him to be keenly aware of his half-breed status. But she could think of nothing to say that wouldn't sound like being a half-breed meant more to her than it did.

With a start she realized that over the hours of this very long day she'd drawn a firm conclusion. It wasn't the outside of a man that she cared about, it was how he conducted himself and how he treated others. So far, she'd seen nothing but kindness and concern from Levi.

She took the basket from Levi and began to search through the garments. “I'll find her nightwear.”

“Should I put her things in Johnny's room?”

She straightened and regarded him. “Would you have liked to sleep alone when you were five and had lost your mother?”

“No.”

“I doubt she does, either. Put her things in my room. She can sleep with me.”

While Levi did so, she slipped the nightgown over Dolly's head. The child barely stirred. How long had she been alone? Lost and frightened? It made Beatrice want to cradle her in her arms and sing lullabies to her. Instead, she hummed as she lifted Dolly and made her way to the bedroom she'd been given.

Levi waited at the doorway until she'd settled the child. Beatrice glanced up, wondering at his bemused expression as he watched the child.

He shifted and tipped his head toward Maisie's room. “Did Ma waken at all?”

“I haven't heard a sound.”

“She took some drops for her pain. They'll make her sleep soundly.”

He seemed reluctant to leave. She wished he didn't have to go, knowing the minute she closed the door and he walked away she would have to confront the enormity of what she had agreed to do. Care for an injured woman, run a ranch house and now see to a young child.

“Will your ma mind having Dolly here?” she whispered.

“She'll love it.” His gaze sought the child and a smile softened his features. “I bid you good night.” He closed the door and his footsteps sounded as he crossed the floor to his own room.

Mindful of the sleeping child, she turned the lamp low and quietly prepared for bed. She'd prayed for a chance to prove herself capable and earn her independence. She smiled to herself. God certainly meant to answer that prayer.

She sobered. So long as she didn't fail.

Rather than get her own Bible out and risk disturbing Dolly, she took the one on the bedside table and opened it to a bookmark. Surprisingly it was the book of Ruth. She read the verses with fresh eyes. Like Ruth she had come to a strange country with unfamiliar customs. Like Ruth, she would do her best to fit in. Though she did not expect to find a man like Boaz, who would care about her needs. Not that her needs meant a thing in comparison to Dolly's.
Lord, help us comfort her and make her feel safe.

She crawled in beside Dolly. The child sighed and snuggled close.

A strange, long ache tugged at Beatrice's arms.

* * *

Beatrice woke the next morning to something tickling her nose and someone giggling. It took but seconds to remember where she was and realize the giggle came from Dolly and the tickling from the kitten who was perched under Beatrice's chin.

“Good morning to you both,” she said and turned to meet the dark brown intense gaze of a little girl who had grown suddenly sober.

“He didn't find them, did he?” Dolly whispered.

Beatrice shifted the kitten to the bed so she could pull Dolly closer. “He found the wagon. Your mama and papa are dead. Were they sick a long time?”

Dolly nodded and answered in another whisper. “Mama said I had to be quiet so Papa could get better. I tried to be quiet.”

Beatrice closed her eyes against the pain that accompanied the realization that Dolly thought she was responsible in any way for her papa's death. How was she to make the child understand it wasn't her fault?
God, please guide my words
. She had not even finished praying when she heard Levi and Maisie talking and understood he was helping her from her room.

She sprang from the bed. “I have to hurry. Can you find something to wear? Levi brought your clothes.” She pulled on a dress and quickly brushed her hair into place, then tied it at the back of her neck. There was no time to fuss with it what with breakfast to prepare, and who knew what else?

Dolly found a dark green shapeless dress that she eased over her head. Holding Smokey, she stood at the door, her eyes wide.

Despite the need to hurry, Beatrice knelt at the child's side. “I didn't get a chance to tell you that you are going to live here until your aunt Martha comes to get you.”

“With you?” Another whisper.

“Yes, and with Levi and his mama. She's hurt her leg so can't move around much so we have to help her.”

“I'll be very quiet.”

Beatrice thought if Dolly got any quieter she would become mute.

“Levi's cousin Charlie might be here, too.” She wasn't sure of Charlie's plans. Nor did she know when Big Sam would return and decided it was best to not mention him at the moment. “We all want you to feel happy and safe.” She was certain she could speak for the others. After all, who wouldn't want that for a child? “Okay? Are you ready?”

Dolly nodded, but Beatrice noticed that poor little Smokey was getting squeezed extra tight. She rubbed the kitten's head. “She's such a good kitty.”

Dolly nodded again.

Beatrice hoped the child hadn't decided to never talk again. She took Dolly's hand and together they crossed the sitting room and into the kitchen, where Levi stood over the stove and the smell of coffee filled the air.

Maisie looked up at their approach. “I heard we have a little visitor. You must be Dolly.” She held out her hand, but Dolly pressed to Beatrice's side.

Maisie wisely ignored the behavior and spoke to Beatrice. “I trust you had a good sleep.”

“Yes, fine.”

Levi had turned from the stove and watched them.

Beatrice brought her gaze to his, felt the power of his dark eyes and something more. As if their shared experiences of the previous day had drawn them together. She tried to pull her gaze from his, to right her thoughts from thinking that the day had signified anything special. Not that she desired anything special.

He looked away first, then drank his cup of coffee and set it down. “I have to look after chores. Can you manage in here?”

The fragile feeling of the moment lay shattered at her feet. He saw only her inadequacies. She drew back her chin. He would not see another failure in meal preparation. “I can manage just fine, thank you.”

* * *

Levi had meant his question to be helpful but she'd taken it as uncertainty about her abilities. He strode through the door. Well, if supper last night was any indication, she'd given him good reason to have doubts.

Charlie moseyed from the bunkhouse, still adjusting his shirt. His eyes were shadowed, his hair mussed, but he quickly donned his hat to hide it. He saw Levi and shifted his direction, as if he wanted to avoid meeting him.

Levi changed direction, too, and fell in at his side. “Charlie, I got to say you look like you were trampled by a herd of buffalo.”

“Yeah? Feel like it, too. What was you up to last night? I heard you riding in way after dark. Sure makes it hard for a man to get a good night's sleep.”

“Sorry.” He told of finding Dolly and her dead parents.

Charlie ground to a halt, all annoyance gone from his expression. “Ah, that's hard. So the little girl is staying here until her aunt comes.”

“That's the plan.”

“A pretty young woman and a little girl. Cousin, it sounds to me like you're growing domesticated.”

“I have no such intentions.”

“Still missing Helen?”

Levi ignored the hard tone in Charlie's voice. Nor would he ask why Charlie made it sound like Levi was foolish to still be missing her. He would never tell anyone that his pain from missing her was but a fraction of the pain he felt at being rejected for being a half-breed. Though if anyone would understand, it might be Charlie.

“Time you got over her and looked for a decent woman.”

Again that hint that Helen had not been the sort of woman Levi deserved. But then, what sort did he deserve? Certainly not a city girl like Beatrice. Or any white woman. And the native ladies considered him too white for their liking.

He'd come to accept it wasn't necessarily his heritage, but he himself that was the problem. “We best get the chores done and head on in for breakfast.”

Charlie whooped with laughter.

Levi cringed. Sometimes Charlie was so loud.

“Do you guess we'll have raw eggs and burnt toast?” Charlie asked.

“All that matters is that Maisie stays off her feet.”

“Can't say as I agree. A man can only do so much work on poor food.” Charlie managed to sound regretful, but Levi suspected he would welcome the excuse to get out of the menial chores he considered beneath him.

“You get the cow milked and I'll check the stock.” He strode away before Charlie could voice the argument Levi saw building. As it was, he heard his cousin muttering as Levi rounded the barn, intent on checking the breeding stock first.

His eyes narrowed as he studied the gate. Someone had tampered with it, because it wasn't closed exactly the way he did it. He checked the ground and made out a set of boot prints that were larger than either his or Charlie's boots. The troublemakers had been around again, but had done no harm. It unsettled him. What were they up to? Did they mean only to harass, or were their plans more dangerous and they had simply been interrupted before they could carry them out?

He circled the rest of the ranch, checking gates, checking on the pigs, the chickens and the cookhouse, and peering into every building whether it was empty or full.

Nothing seemed amiss. It should have made him relax but it only made his tension mount. He did not like this constant uncertainty. He must track the troublemakers down and put a stop to this nonsense.

But how could he get away for any length of time with Maisie laid up, a child visiting, Charlie grousing about the chores that needed doing and Beatrice...?

And Beatrice? Her presence was supposed to make it easier for him to get away. He could not explain why it did quite the opposite.

Charlie dumped a bucket of milk in the pig trough, returned to the cookhouse and emerged with a cloth-covered jug. He turned toward the house.

Levi fell in at his side.

“Do I smell bacon?” Charlie asked.

Levi sniffed. “Think you do.”

“Does it smell burned?”

Levi sniffed again. “Can't say it does.”

They lengthened their strides in a hurry to get to the bacon before it started to burn. “Morning,” Charlie said, as they entered the house. “So you're the little girl who is visiting?”

Dolly stood at Beatrice's side and at Charlie's exuberance, shrank into the folds of her skirts. Beatrice lowered a hand to Dolly's shoulder and pressed her even closer.

“It's okay,” Levi said to the child. “This is my cousin Charlie and he has a loud voice.”

Charlie grunted a protest. “I'm not loud.”

“Yes, you are,” Dolly whispered.

Levi chuckled and met Beatrice's eyes, feeling pleased when he saw she shared his amusement. What was there about her eyes that made him feel pulled out of himself and into a field of scented roses and golden light?

“Breakfast is ready,” Beatrice said. She seemed a little breathless. Or was it that he heard the rapid beating of his own heart?

“Everyone sit down,” Maisie said and they did so.

He managed to say grace at Maisie's request, though he could not remember what he said. It was the smell of bacon, he told himself, that had him so confused. After all, supper last night had left him hungry. He slipped four fried eggs from the platter and a generous amount of bacon. The bread wasn't toasted, but that was probably a good thing considering the crispy, blackened edges on each egg. But breakfast was edible and both he and Charlie ate eagerly.

After a bit, they both slowed down and slathered jam on slices of bread.

Charlie held his knife in one hand as he began to speak. “Levi, you should be more careful about closing the gate on the horses. If I hadn't seen it was open, the horses would have gotten out.”

“I always close it carefully.”

“Well, someone else must have opened it then. 'Cause I didn't.” Charlie sounded defensive.

“I didn't mean to imply you did. Just forget it.” The sooner the better, as he hadn't told Maisie about the troublemakers. Hoping to divert the interest he saw in his stepmother's eyes, he spoke to Beatrice. “Breakfast is good. Thanks.”