Montana Cowboy Daddy. Linda Ford
Grandfather has fixed that by inviting them to the ranch for supper.”
“I haven’t had a chance to extend the invitation. Dawson, you can look after it,” Grandfather said.
“Me? I thought I was done here and could go find my cows.” He’d purchased his own herd last fall. They’d barely been moved to Marshall Five Ranch before snow fell. He’d checked on them periodically, hoping they wouldn’t wander off to more familiar pastures. Several times he’d had to herd them back from the boundaries of the ranch.
“The others can take care of it.” Pa and Dawson’s brothers had gone out to check on the cattle. But they meant to go north to where they expected to find the main bunch and Dawson’s cows always headed south.
Dawson opened his mouth to protest but Grandfather shook a cane at him. “Annie is going to make a meal for Doc and the ladies. You will bring them out.”
Dawson shut his mouth. There was no arguing with his grandfather when he was in one of these moods. Not for the first time, and likely not for the last, Dawson wished he had not been the one selected to greet the newcomers and get them settled. But his grandfather had insisted he was the eldest of the three brothers and so should be on the welcoming committee, and then he’d insisted he would ride along. And now it had come to this...inviting them out for supper. Doc, his daughter and the schoolteacher, he didn’t mind. But the fancy city gal? He wanted to keep Mattie as far from her as possible.
“That Miss Isabelle is a fine-looking woman.” Seemed Grandfather wasn’t about to let Dawson forget his opinion.
It was useless to dispute the matter. Besides, she was more than fine looking. She was beautiful. He’d noted so the first glance he had of her. Black hair tucked beneath a bonnet that matched her sapphire-blue coat, ebony eyes that gave a sweeping glance to those gathered to welcome the newcomers and ivory skin that would likely melt beneath the Montana sun.
“Puts me in mind of my own Annabelle. Even their names are alike.” Grandfather’s eyes grew watery.
Dawson figured it best to ignore the comparison. Probably the only way Isabelle was like his grandmother was the similarity in names. Nothing more.
Grandfather cleared his throat and brought his piercing gaze to Dawson. “A man would be fortunate to win the heart of such a gal.”
Dawson snorted softly, not wishing to offend the old man. “Don’t you think I’ve learned my lesson about city women?” A woman such as that would be forever restless on the ranch.
“Mattie needs a mother.” Both Dawson and Grandfather glanced over their shoulders to where Mattie kicked a hardened clump of dirt, oblivious to the conversation between the two men.
“I’ve no interest in marrying again.”
“It’s high time you got over Violet. Besides, it’s not fair to judge every woman by Violet’s actions.”
Dawson thought it was completely fair. And not just because of Violet. He could name half a dozen other instances where a family or community had been upset by the discontent of a city woman. One especially came to mind. Violet’s friend had come to town, turning upside down the life of one of Dawson’s good friends, Johnny, and then she’d moved on. Leaving his friend flat broke and emotionally shattered. In fact, he could think of no city woman who had adjusted to life on a ranch. But he kept his opinion to himself. No point in wasting words when he knew Grandfather wouldn’t listen.
Grandfather patted Dawson on the arm with his knotted fingers. “Give her a chance. You might be surprised to discover inner beauty to match her outer beauty.”
Dawson shook his head. “You’ve seen her, what? Fifteen minutes? Half an hour? And spoken less than a dozen words to her. How can you make any sort of judgment about her?”
“I might ask you the same thing. Now help me to the wagon. Annie needs to get home and prepare a meal.”
Dawson assisted the man to the seat beside Annie. As much as possible Dawson, his brothers or their father gave Grandfather what help he needed, but Annie managed when she was alone with him.
The pair drove off and Dawson called Mattie to him.
“Why did we stay here?” she asked.
“We are going to take the doctor and the ladies out to the ranch for supper.”
“Oh, goodie.” She did a happy skip and jump. “Miss Isabelle, too? Right?”
Grandfather would accept no excuse if Dawson showed up without her. “Somebody will have to feed them. There’s no food in the house yet.” He’d meant to have the pantry stocked by now but had fallen behind in that task. He’d left a notice at the store for people to contribute if they cared to. In the meantime, he would have to give in to Grandfather’s plans despite his better judgment. At least, the part of the old man’s plan where Dawson invited the newcomers to the ranch. Not the part where he tried to win the heart of one of them. And, for some reason, Grandfather had chosen Isabelle as the one Dawson should pursue. Dawson simply wasn’t interested. “Let’s invite them for the meal.”
They looked to the right and the left but he saw no sign of the fancy city lady.
“You said she wouldn’t disappear.” Mattie’s words accused him of being responsible for the lady’s absence. “Now I’ll never get to feel her soft scarf again.” She tsked. “Hardly think losing someone is going to meet with Grandfather’s approval.”
Mattie had been surrounded by adults all her life, except for the few months she’d spent in school before it burned to the ground. It had turned her into a small adult. But she was correct about Grandfather’s opinion. Dawson had unfinished business to attend to.
“Let’s go find the schoolteacher.” After that they’d look for Isabelle. She couldn’t have gone far. Probably in Uncle George’s general store being dismayed at the array of farm tools and the smell of turpentine.
Mattie marched along at his side as they stepped into the hotel lobby.
“She’s here,” Mattie whispered and hid behind him.
Indeed, Isabelle stood before a window as if studying the scene. He could tell her that what she saw was as exciting as life got around here. “I thought you couldn’t wait to find her.”
“I couldn’t.”
He had to bend to catch her whisper. “So why are you hiding?”
“’Cause she’s so pretty.”
He caught Mattie’s chin and tipped her face upward, waiting for her eyes to meet his. “You are pretty, too. Don’t ever forget it.”
She brushed her gray pinafore, giving it a mighty frown, and kicked out one scuffed black boot. “I’m not pretty. Look at this old dress.”
Dawson’s heart rent at yet another pain his daughter endured. She’d known far too many for one so young. But as to her clothes...well, she ran about freely at the ranch and wore clothes that allowed her to do so. The last thing Annie needed was more laundry and fancy dresses to take care of.
He squatted to Mattie’s eye level and caught her by the shoulders. “Honey, never let anyone judge you by the clothes you wear, how much money you have or what you do. Those are outward things. Remember the verse Grandpa Bud says so often. ‘Man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.’ It isn’t the outside that matters. It’s who you are on the inside.” He tapped her chest.
Mattie’s eyes widened as she looked at him. “Who am I?”
He stroked her cheek. “A sweet, kind, cheerful little girl who likes to make others happy.” When she smiled, he would have hugged her right then and there, but she’d warned him she was too big to be hugged in public.
He straightened. “Now let’s take care of those invites.” He held out his hand to her and she took it, squeezing it as hard as