Prairie Cowboy. Linda Ford

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СКАЧАТЬ expected then any more than she did now. Perhaps a word of praise, a sign that he didn’t regret having a daughter? She turned from studying the Russell farm. “Are you going to show me your house?”

      Rachael grabbed her hand and ran. Virnie had no choice but to trot after her.

      They ducked into the house. Virnie remembered her manners in time to stifle a gasp at the mess before her. They stood in a nice-sized room that served as living quarters for the residents—combining sitting area, dining area and kitchen. The room had potential to be bright and cheerful but it did not live up to its possibilities. Dirty dishes covered the table. The stove held an array of blackened pots and pans. Clothing of every description from a Rachael-sized shirt to a heavy winter coat lay scattered across every surface. Virnie had to wonder where they sat, how they managed to prepare a meal, how they kept clean. She deliberately shifted her gaze to the two doors opening into the room. Both stood open to reveal beds buried beneath clothing and assorted objects. How did they find room to sleep in those beds? And how did Rachael manage to find clean clothes to wear to school?

      Mentally, Virnie began to roll up her sleeves. She could tackle the worst of this mess while she was here, perhaps show Rachael a few coping skills. She wondered how long she had until Conor returned because she didn’t have to be a genius to sense he would object to her interference.

      “Rae.” The faint call came from outside, some distance away.

      Rachael grabbed Virnie’s hand. “Don’t tell Pa about the dog.”

      The child’s request drove all else from Virnie’s mind. She assumed it would be the first thing Rachael said. Such an encounter should be reported and dealt with. Why was Rachael afraid to tell Conor? “You need to let him know so he can do something.”

      “No. Pa needs me to be strong.”

      “Rachael, you need to be protected.”

      Rachael swallowed so hard she grimaced. “I can take care of myself.”

      Virnie knew she couldn’t. What if Mrs. Faulk hadn’t been there to call the dog off? Virnie shuddered to think of the child facing that dog alone. “You need to tell him.”

      Rachael shook her head. “Promise you won’t tell.”

      Virnie considered her responsibility to report the incident against the child’s obvious reluctance. “I won’t tell him but I want you to promise you will. He needs to know.”

      “Okay, I will.” Her reluctance was obvious.

      Conor burst into the house and Virnie could not pursue the subject. She had given her word. Now she must trust Rachael to keep hers.

      “Where have you been? Why are you so late?” Conor demanded of Rachael and then he shifted his gaze to Virnie. “Why did you bring her home?”

      “Pa, she is visiting all the families and I got to be first.”

      Conor narrowed his eyes, still studying Virnie. “Is that a fact?”

      Virnie’s struggle to deal with her reluctant promise about the dog ended suddenly at the challenge in his voice.

      “Do you have any objections?” She meant both visiting in general and making Rachael her first visit.

      He blinked before her directness. “Why is Rae so late?”

      “She helped me clean the chalkboard and brushes so we could walk home together.” She darted a glance at Rachael, hoping to convey that now would be a good time to tell her father about the dog. But Rachael refused to meet her eyes.

      “Do you expect me to serve you tea?”

      She almost laughed but managed to confine her amusement to a grin. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea.” She let her gaze circle the room and knew a sense of victory when he looked uncomfortable.

      “It’s harvest time. Don’t have time to spend cleaning up the house. It can wait. The crops can’t.”

      She didn’t say it looked like the house had waited a very long time but knew her eyes must have flashed her disbelief when he scowled.

      The sound of an approaching rider reached them.

      “It’s Uncle Gabe,” Conor said.

      Rachael screamed and raced outside calling, “Uncle Gabe. Uncle Gabe.”

      Conor did not release Virnie from his look, rife with warning, but beneath that she read more—his latent worry about Rachael being late. Realizing his unspoken concern, something sharp and hot drove through her thoughts. This man cared about his daughter even though he treated her like a boy. Perhaps she could appeal to him on that basis, somehow make him see the harm he inadvertently inflicted on his child. She could explain—but pain twisted through her at the mere thought of telling someone how it felt.

      The look in his blue, bottomless eyes shifted, seeking a response that had nothing to do with Rachael.

      A noise outside made him jerk toward the door, freeing her from his stare and allowing her to think clearly. She didn’t intend to get involved with this man. Yes, he might care in a flawed way about his daughter but Virnie did not have any desire to relive her own experience in order to help him. She would pray for some other way to help Rachael.

      “I’ve been expecting him,” Conor said.

      “Your brother?” Virnie asked.

      “No, just a good friend.”

      “I’ll be on my way.” But before Virnie could make her way through the door, Rachael returned, pulling a man by his hand.

      His eyes widened when he saw her and he whipped off his hat. “Didn’t know Conor had a lady friend visiting.” He grinned widely at Conor then shifted his attention back to Virnie. He didn’t say anything but the way his grin deepened, Virnie knew he thought she was worth a second look.

      She took the liberty of giving him a good look, too. A man with fine features, blond hair, blue eyes and unrepentant amusement.

      “’Bout time old Conor acknowledged there’s more to life than work.”

      Conor grunted. “Miss White is the new schoolteacher.” He nodded toward Virnie. “You probably figured out this is my friend, Gabe. Gabe Winston.”

      “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. And might you have a Christian name?”

      “Virnie.” She looked at Conor as she spoke, wondering if he would ever take the liberty of using her name. But he scowled like he had a pain somewhere. She pulled herself straighter. She knew that look. Had seen it often from her pa. And she understood she was the source of the pain. For Conor as well as her pa. “I’ll be on my way. Good day.”

      Gabe made a protesting noise but stepped aside as she steamed out.

      She hurried away with long, furious strides. Why did she let Conor’s attitude pull unwanted memories to her mind?

      She stomped hard on the dusty surface of the road, raising dust to her knees. She’d have to polish her shoes and brush her skirt when she got home. СКАЧАТЬ