The Cowboy's City Girl. Linda Ford
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 the river even at risk to his own safety.
She turned to him. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
His smile was fleeting but had lasted long enough for her to appreciate the way his features softened.
“No problem. I could hardly stand by and hope you wouldn’t get hurt.”
“I suppose not.” Though she’d met men who cared little about her personal needs and lots about lining their own pockets.
The buggy hit a rough spot and she jostled, tipping toward the side.
She was off balance and might have fallen off except Levi grabbed her arm and pulled her back upright. That was twice he’d saved her life. She didn’t know what to make of it.
Just happenstance. As he said, he could hardly stand by and watch her get hurt.
It was no cause for her to think it meant anything. She knew better.
* * *
Levi had wanted to get one of his new sisters-in-law to help his stepmother. Or even his brother Johnny’s new sister-in-law, Celia, but Maisie had refused, saying since she’d been helping care for the sick, she might be contagious and didn’t want the rest of the family exposed to the illness that had ravaged the town of Granite Creek and the surrounding area.
Preacher Gage had said he would send someone to help her.
Levi had been tracking the latest trail of the men creating havoc at the ranch when the rain erased any signs he might have followed. Near as he could tell, there were three riders, but who they were or why they seemed to take delight in making mischief around the ranch, he could not say. So far nothing had been seriously damaged nor was anything missing, but everything they did had the potential to be more serious. Gates had been left open, but he discovered it in time so the horses did not escape. A pile of oats had been left where the milk cow could get into it and founder, and again, only his vigilance had prevented it. The woodpile had been upset so he’d stacked it again before the rain came. The list went on and on. It frustrated him to no end that he hadn’t been able to catch the culprits and put a stop to it. Especially with Pa and the hired hands away.
Levi had been left in charge and he meant to fulfill the responsibility.
But losing the trail just as he reached the river had proven to be fortuitous. He saw in the water a young woman he didn’t recognize attempting to get her buggy unstuck while lightning flashed about her. His thoughts had turned to Helen. His heart had slammed into his ribs so hard he had grunted.
Thankfully, he had not witnessed Helen drowning, but he’d imagined it many times. It was not something he wished to see repeated with this woman, though she was more likely to be struck with lightning than to drown.
Before he could even give the thought consideration, he’d gone into the water and carried her to safety. As soon as he lifted her into his arms, he recognized her as the city girl, Miss Doyle, visiting her aunt Opal and uncle Elwood Gage. What was the preacher thinking to send her to help Maisie? From what he’d heard, she was more used to having servants than being one.
No doubt, the preacher had his reasons. For instance, the fact that so many were ill with the influenza and more were falling sick all the time. Levi would just have to make the best of it and be grateful for whatever help she offered.
A suspicion edged into his thoughts. Perhaps no one else was willing to work in a house where a half-breed lived. Did Miss Doyle know about his heritage? Or had Preacher Gage neglected to mention it? Maisie often reassured him that he was just as white as native, yet he knew many didn’t see it that way.
Like Helen. He and she had been friends for a couple of years. He’d fancied himself in love with her. At sixteen he had begun to pressure her to promise to marry him when they both turned seventeen. Her reply had shocked him clear through.
“We can be friends,” she’d said. “But Levi, I could never marry you. Do you know what people would say? Why, there would be homes where I wouldn’t be invited because I’d married a half-breed.”
“How is that different than being my friend?”
“People don’t have to know we’re friends. We can enjoy each other’s company out here far from town.”
He had stalked away. He did not want a secret friendship any more than he wanted to be looked upon with shame and regret.
Helen had drowned two weeks later, swimming alone. He couldn’t help thinking if he’d been there he might have been able to pull her to safety when she banged her head on a rock. Her loss had been devastating, but little did anyone know he’d felt the loss well before she drowned.
A year ago, at eighteen, he’d met Fern Dafoe and had been attracted to her. He reasoned she would accept him because she was a half-breed like himself. But his interest in her had been short-lived. She had wanted him to join her father and her brothers in their nomadic way of life, a life that brought them perilously close to getting arrested on more than one occasion. After he’d told her that he didn’t want to leave the ranch and he didn’t want to join up with her wild family, she’d been angry and accused him of being too white.
Too white for Fern. Too native for Helen.
At that point, he’d made up his mind. He would never again open himself up to loss and rejection. Some might say he had grown too guarded, but he knew his heart could not withstand more. Perhaps losing his ma when he was only five had made him extra cautious.
Miss Doyle’s voice brought him back to the present. “Mr. Harding, how far do we have to travel to get to your ranch?”
“We’re almost there. I prefer you call me Levi. Mr. Harding is my pa, though mostly he’s known as Big Sam.”
“So he’s a big man?”
“In every way imaginable.”
She tipped her head as if trying to fathom what he meant. “Big in size and big in heart?”
“Yup. And big in personality.”
“Oh.” She considered his reply for a moment. Her voice was soft as she asked her next question. “Will he frighten me?”
Levi laughed. “Only if you let him. But he’s not home right now. He and a bunch of cowhands have gone up the mountains where some cows are trapped by a landslide. They have to dig them out.”
“You did not go with them?”
“Someone had to remain at home to take care of things. Good thing I stayed behind. I can’t imagine what would have become of Ma if she’d been alone.” His voice hardened. If something happened to Ma he would have himself to blame.
“I thought she was your stepmother.”
He smiled. “I barely remember my own ma. Maisie is the only ma I’ve known. I should tell you why she needs help. I don’t know why she thought it was necessary to carry a sharp hoe into the loft of the barn just because she wanted to