Dakota Cowboy. Linda Ford

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      She stopped in front of the Dry Creek dining room. “This is where we part ways.”

      “You’re going back to work?”

      “No. I’m going to bed.”

      “In the dining room?”

      She rolled her eyes. “I have a room in the back.” She squinted at him as if suspecting shenanigans from him. “Right next to the room where Harry and Hettie sleep.”

      He grinned. “I had no plan to search out your sleeping quarters.”

      Her cheeks reddened. “I didn’t suggest you did.”

      He kind of liked seeing her flustered. He shepherded his thoughts back to the reason he had looked her up. “I only want one thing from you.”

      She opened the door and stepped inside. “Good night.” The door closed.

      He raised his voice. “Don’t you want to know why it’s so important?”

      Her muffled voice came through the wood. “There aren’t enough words in the world to make me change my mind.”

      He stared at the closed door for some time before he whistled for the patient Two Bit and rode to his camp. A man with an ounce of sense would admit defeat and ride away, but he had made himself a promise to pay back Scout’s kindness by bringing his daughter to visit. He wasn’t about to give up. Lucy needed some persuading was all. And he was a patient man. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to be too patient. He’d like to get back in time to see Scout before his friend departed this life.

      He wondered how Scout was doing. Wade had arranged for an old cowboy friend to stay with Scout when he’d left to find Lucy. But Wade didn’t figure Scout had many days left in him. He needed to hurry along Lucy’s change of mind. He again prayed—a still unfamiliar activity. God, help me accomplish the task I’ve chosen.

      Lucy shut her bedroom door and began to prepare for bed.

      She didn’t want to know anything more about her father. She’d spent too many pointless years waiting and hoping for him to do more than flit in and out of her life. She’d seen far too clearly how her mother had pined after a man who had made promises he never kept. After her mother died, still hoping for her father to make good on his promises, Lucy had sworn never to need or want anything more from her father. Nothing Wade could say or do would change that.

      She sat cross-legged on her bed and opened her Bible. It had been her mother’s. In the front were the family history pages. Lucy stared at them. Her name and birth date entered by her mother. Her mother’s death in Lucy’s handwriting. The births and dates of death of her mother’s parents and her mother’s brother who had died when he was only three months old. She turned to the conspicuously empty page for registering marriages. No marriage between her parents had ever been entered because her father failed to marry her mother and make an honest woman out of her, despite his many promises to do so.

      Lucy sighed. It was old news. She no longer cared. Turning the pages carefully, she paused at the bookmark and read a chapter before gently replacing the Bible in its place of honor on her bedside table. She said her prayers as she’d done from her earliest remembrance. She knew—because her mother told her often—there had been a time when their lives didn’t include churchgoing, Bible reading and prayer. A time when her mother had been a rebel and a run away. But she thankfully did not recall that period. Her father was part of her mother’s BC time—Before Christ—and Lucy did not want any share of it.

      She lay staring at the narrow window high in the wall opposite her bed. Often she wished she could see outside without standing on her tiptoes, but Harry and Hettie were more than generous to provide her a room. She had only to think about Roy to realize her life without family might be a whole lot worse.

      Thinking of Roy brought her thoughts round to Wade. No doubt after her rude dismissal he’d ridden out for wherever it was he headed. Made no difference to her. He was like a hundred other cowboys she saw.

      Only—she regretfully admitted—no other cowboy had insisted on accompanying her to a recitation, nor admitted bold-faced how he missed his ma and her favorite poem.

      She would doubtless never see him again and that, she told herself, was a good thing.

      The next day was Sunday and Lucy headed out to church. Hettie and Harry had never asked her to work on Sunday. They had another gal come in to handle the Sunday crowd.

      As she sat enjoying the organ music before the service began, someone slipped into the pew beside her. Wade!

      She couldn’t tell him to move along—not in church. Not that she didn’t want to. But she feared she would incur the wrath of God if she acted on her unkind thoughts, so she gave him a smile that went no further than the corners of her mouth. Indeed, her lips said, “Good morning.” But her eyes said something entirely different.

      “Nice to see you at church,” he whispered.

      “You thought me a heathen, did you?”

      He quirked an eyebrow. “Now why would you think such a thing?”

      Why, indeed? But her conscience smote her. She’d been rude and dismissive. And him being a stranger in town. Hadn’t the Lord commanded them to be careful to entertain strangers? A grin filled her mouth as she thought of the rest of the verse—entertaining angels unawares. She had her doubts about Wade being any sort of an angel.

      “Care to share the cause of your amusement?” he whispered as the pews filled up around them.

      She couldn’t restrain herself and told him about the verse. She then added, “It doesn’t say what those who aren’t angels turn out to be.”

      He managed to look sad even though his eyes shone with amusement. “I would not expect anyone to consider me an angel. But I guess that means you’re obligated to entertain me this afternoon.”

      Obligated?

      Her mind said no—she wanted nothing to do with a cowboy who knew her father and expected she would be glad to pay him a visit.

      Her heart said otherwise. Obligation, cowboy, father—none of it mattered. The idea of an afternoon in this man’s company sounded fine.

      Her mouth said, “I guess I’m obligated.”

      He grinned. “I guess I am, too. No cowboy in his right mind would turn down such a generous invitation.”

      Knowing he realized as much as she that it had not been one bit generous, they both laughed. Seems he didn’t mind the obligation any more than she, which was somehow all wrong. This man had made his intention perfectly clear—he only cared about spending time with her in order to persuade her to visit her father.

      Just as she’d made it clear as a spring morning she wouldn’t be persuaded. So, what harm was there in spending a sunny afternoon with him? It wasn’t as if she was about to let this man, or any man, share anything but fragments of time. She had no need nor desire to give a man the right to twist her life into disarray as her father had done to her mother.

      And herself.

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