Montana Cowboy Daddy. Linda Ford
kept up what little conversation there was during the trip home, talking about her plans to set up a temporary schoolroom. The others settled back, weary from their long day.
Dusk wrapped about the town as he reached Bella Creek. The air grew colder. He let Sadie out at the hotel and escorted her inside, waiting until she reached her door before he returned to the buggy. A few yards farther, he pulled up in front of the doctor’s house. A figure stepped from the shadows.
“Doc?”
“What can I do for you?” Dr. Baker climbed down and went to the man.
“Got a bad hand.”
“Come along.”
Kate didn’t wait for Dawson to help her down but hurried after her father. Soon a lamp glowed inside the examining room.
Isabelle took his hand as she stepped to the ground. She stared at the unlit living quarters and shivered. “It’s dark.”
He fought a brief mental war between his desire to keep his distance from this woman and the dictates of gentlemanly manners. The latter won out. “I’ll go ahead and light a lamp.”
Entering the house, he groped toward the kitchen, where he’d earlier noticed a lamp on the table. He lit it then went to the stove, stirred up the embers and added some wood.
“Thank you. I will handle it in the future.”
He hadn’t heard her step into the room and jerked about to face her. In the glow from the lamp, her features were golden, her smile gentle. She removed her hat and set it on the table. The light touched her hair, filling the dark strands with a fiery glow.
Why was he staring? He shook himself and bolted for the door. Forced himself to stop and face her. Now he could say all the things he hadn’t been able to with Grandfather listening and dreaming an old man’s dream on Dawson’s behalf. “Miss Redfield, I must warn you not to encourage my daughter’s fascination with you.” He rushed on, ignoring the shock in her eyes. “She’s young and vulnerable. I don’t want to see her hurt.”
Isabelle’s eyes snapped. “You’re suggesting I mean to hurt her?”
“Not on purpose but—” How did he say all he felt in a word or two? “She belongs here in the West, on a ranch.”
“And I don’t? And may I ask how you’ve come to that conclusion?”
His gaze lingered on the fur collar of her coat, then went down to the fine leather boots, also with fur lining.
She nodded, her expression icy. “I see.”
“I doubt you do. But you’re city and we’re country.” Before he could say more, he turned on his heel and strode away.
Isabelle tossed and turned half the night. She was city. Perhaps that was a step up from being an heiress but ultimately it left her struggling with the same sense of frustration and rejection.
In the morning, Kate confronted her. “You seemed restless last night. What’s bothering you?”
She told her friend what Dawson had said. “Even without knowing of my inheritance, he sees me as useless...worse, as a threat to his child’s happiness.”
Kate sat beside her on the bed. “We both know that isn’t true.”
Isabelle turned her palms upward in a sign of helplessness. “I am useless.”
Kate hugged her. “I think you can do anything you set your mind to and you know it.”
Slowly, Isabelle let the truth of Kate’s words settle into her thoughts. She didn’t have quite as much faith in her abilities as did Kate but neither was she prepared to let Dawson’s opinion deter her.
“I want to help you. I thought I could take care of the house while you assist your father.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
Her resolve firmly in place, Isabelle went to the kitchen to prove her usefulness. But it was easier said than done. She had no idea how to prepare breakfast. Their pantry had been stocked while they were out at the Marshall Ranch. Only because of those generous gifts did Kate and the doctor have a satisfying meal.
“I need help.” She didn’t mind confessing her inability to Kate.
“Let’s pray about it.” Kate took her hand. They bowed their heads and took turns praying aloud. When Isabelle first learned this practice of spontaneous prayers from Kate, she’d been surprised but soon embraced the idea. Kate called it “letting go of things and letting God take care of them.”
The door to the doctor’s waiting room opened and closed, and Kate and her father left to see to the caller.
Isabelle went to her trunk and removed her Bible. She’d been raised to attend church and say her prayers. Her mother had taught her to trust God, but not until she met Kate four years ago at a church event did Isabelle’s faith begin to grow. Over the years, with Kate’s patient teaching, she’d grown to see that God wanted to be part of every day, every action. Her Bible fell open to a passage she frequently read. Whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus. She closed her eyes as the familiar lonesome ache sucked at her insides. God, I feel so useless. What can I do to Your honor and glory? Show me. Oh, please, show me where I fit.
What did she mean? She was the heiress Isabelle Redfield. According to her lawyer, who was trustee of the funds, she had a lot of money and taking care of it took a lot of work. But somehow her lawyer had done it without her input for years. She saw no reason he couldn’t continue to do so. She wouldn’t have access to the money she’d inherited until she turned twenty-five or married. But being in charge of a vast amount of money meant nothing to her.
She wanted to do something that had meaning for her.
She managed to make a satisfying lunch...again because of the food supplied by others. It didn’t take long to sweep the floors and dust the shelves. As she worked, she tried to think what she would make for the next meal. If only she had a book...
That gave her an idea. Surely there would be one at the store. With money in her pocket, she headed across the street to the Marshall Mercantile store and stepped inside. At once, a myriad of smells assaulted her. Most of them she couldn’t identify but they carried hints of men at work. Her gaze lit on an array of hammers, shovels and axes.
Immediately she pictured Dawson swinging an ax as he deftly chopped wood. Had he been the one, or one of those, who’d filled the woodshed at the doctor’s house? Maybe he would come by again to replenish their supply. No. She was certain he wouldn’t. At least, not if he thought she’d be there. He’d made his opinion of her quite evident. She shook her head, trying to drive away those foolish thoughts, and shifted her gaze to a different display. Several oil lamps and, farther along, tins that would be used to carry the coal oil.
“May I help you?” A man’s voice drew her attention to the other side of the store where household items filled the shelves. She knew him to be Dawson’s uncle George. They’d been introduced yesterday. He was another big man.
She made her way to the counter. “I expect my request is rather odd.” After all, the women out here would know how to prepare meals and baked goods. “Is it possible you have a book to help me learn how to cook and bake and all those other things I need to know?”
The man gave her a kindly look. “Your mother didn’t teach you?”
“No. She died when I was young and my cousin gave me a home.” No need to add that neither home saw the need for her to learn such skills. Instead, her lessons had included doing fancy needlework, reading the classics, proper etiquette and learning to be a refined young lady. Of course, those lessons were of value, but they left her ill-equipped to manage a household on her own, and she was