The Cowboy's City Girl. Linda Ford
responsibilities as the preacher had included ministering to the sick. Aunt Opal had helped and taken Beatrice with her.
“Though I’ve a long ways to go before I can hope to run a house or take care of children,” she muttered to the raging sky. Learning to do anything else of practical use seemed even more impossible.
When Uncle Elwood received news that Mrs. Harding was injured and needed help, Beatrice had begged to be allowed to take on the challenge.
“But I don’t have time to take you there and you don’t know how to drive the buggy,” he’d protested.
“You can show me. Besides, how many times have you said Old Sissy, your mare, knows what to do?”
Her uncle began to relent at that point and had finally given in to her arguments as to why this was a good idea.
“Well, Old Sissy,” Beatrice yelled. “What are you going to do?”
The horse stood with her head down. Seems she found the rain every bit as miserable as did Beatrice, whose clothes were clinging to her. With no help from that direction, Beatrice gathered her wet skirts about her and climbed down to look at the wheel. She determinedly ignored the ankle-deep water soaking through her impractical shoes and further wetting her skirts as she studied her problem.
If she pushed while Old Sissy pulled, they just might get the buggy back to level ground. Beatrice leaned her weight into the wheel and yelled at the horse to go.
Beatrice’s foot slipped and she barely managed to catch herself before she fell downward in the water. As it was she stepped off the rocky road bed and into cold, dark water that licked at her knees and left her no closer to achieving her goal.
Lightning streaked across the sky, momentarily blinding her. A bone-shaking crash of thunder followed almost directly on its heels and the air filled with a sulfur smell.
She had no desire to spend the rest of the afternoon in the middle of a river with rain pouring down on her head. “I have to get out of here.” She grunted and again leaned into the wheel.
A hand caught her shoulder and jerked her back. “Lady, leave it be.”
She struggled against the grasp of the water and the weight of her sodden clothing to turn and face the owner of the voice. She grabbed at the wheel to keep her balance and blinked at the man before her. She recognized the tall, dark and handsome cowboy, whom she’d seen previously in town. Her first thought on that occasion was that he seemed so sure of himself and where he belonged in the world.
Not that she didn’t know exactly what her role in life was. Her father had made it abundantly clear, making her glad to leave home and head west. “With no son, it’s your duty to help the family by marrying well,” he’d said.
“You’re Levi Harding.” His father, Big Sam, ran the biggest ranch in this part of Montana. “I’m on my way to your place. I understand your mother needs help.”
He blinked, another flash of lightning bringing his features into sharp detail. The thunder followed almost immediately.
“Lady, did no one tell you about the dangers of lightning and water?” Rain dripped from the brim of his sodden cowboy hat, providing a damp curtain in front of his face, but not so much she couldn’t see the frown on his lips.
“Of course they did.” But she couldn’t think what she’d been told.
“You’re a perfect lightning rod.”
“You mean...?” Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t take in the danger to herself.
He swept her off her feet and plowed his way through the water to solid ground. She should protest his boldness, but instead she clung to his shoulders and wished the rain would quit.
He set her on her feet. “Stay here.” Levi turned back to the river, reached the horse and grabbed its reins, pulling and calling. A bright flash of lightning made Old Sissy rear in fear and revealed the sharp features of the man, his arms upraised like some kind of modern-day Moses.
Beatrice’s heart lurched. How bold and strong he was. How many times had she wished for such a man to save her from her father’s plans? Reality squelched her eagerness. Yes, it might be looked upon as a romantic rescue except for a few small details. Like the pouring rain, her soaked clothes and the cold that had reached the marrow of her bones. And the hard, unyielding lump in her heart that warned her to never again trust a man to be what she wanted and needed.
Shiver after shiver raced through her and her teeth rattled.
Within a few moments, the buggy stood on solid ground again.
He held out his hand to assist her to the seat. When she was as comfortable as her dampened state allowed, he tied his horse to the back and climbed up beside her. “I’ll get you safely to the ranch.”
“Thank you.” This was not quite what she had in mind when she’d fled Chicago with Father’s words echoing in her ears and her mind set on making her own way in life.
“You’ll not receive another nickel until you obey me,” he’d said without an ounce of sympathy, and Mother had stood resolutely at his side.
She had no doubt he meant every word. All her life she’d known she was a disappointment to her parents for being born a girl instead of a boy. But not until recently did she realize the depth of their disappointment.
It had begun when she fell in love with Henry St. James, a handsome, blond man who worked as a clerk in her father’s office. Because of his lowly station in her father’s business, Henry had insisted on meeting her in secret, but she fully expected he would eventually confront her father with a declaration of his love for her.
How wrong she’d been. When her father discovered Henry’s interest in her, he had paid him to vanish. Henry hadn’t even cared enough to object or offer her an explanation. She began to suspect his interest all along had only been the hopes of financial improvement.
After that Father had presented three suitable young men to her. “Any of these men can become my son and heir.”
She’d wept in secret to think her father was selling her like something in the stockyards.
She refused to marry any of them. “I will marry for love,” she had declared. Though she had no intention of ever marrying. How could she ever trust another man? Henry had vowed to defend her. Look how that had gone.
Father had said she was simply being immature and selfish. But she had refused to be coerced, which caused her father to buy her a one-way ticket to Granite Creek, Montana, with the warning that she could return home when she came to her senses.
The misery of being cold and wet matched the misery of her spirit.
She lifted her head, ignoring the water dripping from her hat brim to her nose. She was not going back home to be married off by her father. She would use every opportunity to learn the necessary skills she would need in order to get a job so she could take care of herself. Mrs. Harding’s need was an answer to Beatrice’s prayer for a chance to prove herself.
Never mind that Levi had rescued her and she’d felt safe in his arms. She would never again allow herself to trust in a man’s good intentions. No. She’d learned her lesson on what value she held.
Levi had said nothing since they began the journey together. What sort of man was he? One who sat straight and focused on the trail ahead. Out of the corner of her eye she studied his profile. Strong, bold, angular. She’d seen him once before in town. Tall and dark. Aunt Opal said his mother had been a full-blooded Lakota Indian. The woman she was going to help was his stepmother.
A half-breed. She didn’t know what to think. She’d seen the way her father treated the natives they’d encountered in Chicago with ruthless disdain. Yet the way Levi sat so straight and almost regal, she couldn’t imagine her father doing the same to him.
Besides, he’d been willing to rescue a silly maiden standing in