Montana Cowboy Daddy. Linda Ford

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      He found Mattie hiding behind the lumber. “Come on. We’re going home.”

      Without a word, she fell in at his side but shied away when he reached for her hand. “Mattie, it isn’t like you to act this way.” She didn’t answer and remained surprisingly quiet on the way home.

      Over dinner, he asked Annie, “Could you ride into town and pick up Mattie after school so I don’t have to leave off work until later?”

      She stared at him. “I could if I had nothing else to do but I’m rather busy that time of day. And every day,” she added softly.

      Guilt stole up his insides, especially when Grandfather looked at him so accusingly.

      Annie continued. “I’m sure there is someone in town who could help you out.”

      Grandfather nodded. “Why not ask that nice Miss Isabelle? I like that gal. She’s got spunk. I could tell that the first time I saw her.”

      “Why, that’s an excellent idea,” Annie said.

      Dawson took note of the way she and Grandfather smiled at each other. Had they been conspiring together? He could tell them not to bother but what was the use? Neither would change their minds on his behalf.

      “Oh, please, Papa. I’d like to stay with her.”

      He hated that Mattie sounded so hopeful. “I’ll find someone in town. Maybe one of the older girls.” He returned to his meal.

      “You know, Miss Isabelle reminds me of your grandmother.”

      “So you said.” Dawson barely remembered his grandmother but had grown up listening to tales of her efficiency and bravery. How she raised the finest chickens in the country and butchered two every Saturday for Sunday dinner. He could not see a city girl like Isabelle doing that. Grandfather had told the boys how Grandmother had helped him put in the crop one year when he’d injured his hand badly and other stories, like— Well, never mind. “Grandmother was no city girl.”

      Grandfather chuckled. “You’re wrong. She’d never been on a farm until we married and I took her home. We did all our courting in the city. But she never once balked. Whatever needed to be done, she dug in and did it.”

      Why had Dawson never heard before that his grandmother was a city woman? Was Grandfather making it up? But he’d never known the old man to be anything but painfully honest.

      He said nothing more, though he could tell Grandfather would have liked to discuss it further. No doubt he would have liked to point out how well Grandmother had adjusted. That was a different era. Grandmother might have been raised in the city but likely had learned how to work.

      Tomorrow, he’d make arrangements for someone to care for Mattie.

      * * *

      The next day, he arrived a little early for school and waited at the door for the students to arrive. The oldest girl was Tom Shearer’s daughter, Kitty. Far as he could remember of what he’d heard, the girl would be perhaps thirteen. He’d seen her often enough, thought her rather placid, frequently at the tail end of a group of kids. But she would be old enough to watch Mattie.

      She approached now and he called her. She jerked to a halt and stared. “Oh, hi, Mr. Marshall.”

      “Hi, Kitty. I wonder if you might take Mattie home with you after school until it’s time for me to leave. I’d pay you a few cents. You can ask your mama at noon if it’s okay.”

      The information seemed to seep in slowly and then she nodded. “Sure. Ma won’t mind.”

      He turned to Mattie. “You go home with Kitty after school and I’ll pick you up there. Okay?”

      “Okay.” Mattie skipped away cheerfully, Kitty plodding along behind her.

      Dawson stared after the pair. He’d expected resistance on Mattie’s part, so this quick compliance was a pleasant surprise.

      Relieved that his problem was solved, he returned to work on the school.

      * * *

      Isabelle spent the day pretending she didn’t hear men working next door. And if she glanced in that direction when she went outside for something, it was only because she liked to see the progress on the building. When the time came for the children to be released from school, she hurried to the window overlooking the street, hoping for a glimpse of little Mattie. The girl had stolen her heart. It hurt to know Dawson didn’t want her to spend time with his daughter.

      She watched as one by one, or in groups of two or more, the children ran from the store, laughing and calling to each other.

      The rush ended but she hadn’t seen Mattie. Had she missed the child? Or did she remain at the store with her great-uncle?

      She began to turn away when the door opened again and Mattie exited in the company of an older girl. Mattie chattered away. The older girl nodded once or twice but seemed bored with Mattie’s conversation.

      Isabelle thought of the jar of cookies. Kate and her father had certainly appreciated them, but how she longed to share them with a child.

      It was not to be and she turned her attention to supper preparation, though some of the joy of serving the Bakers had leaked out of the work.

      She had potatoes prepared to cook, carrots scraped and a jar of canned meat from the amply supplied pantry ready to heat when banging on the door surprised her. She opened it. “Dawson, you startled me.”

      “Is she here?”

      She shrank back from the anger in his voice. She guessed he must mean Mattie but she could be mistaken. “Who are you looking for?”

      “Mattie, of course.” He pulled open the door and strode in without waiting for an invite.

      She stood back and watched him, wary of his ire.

      He glanced around the kitchen, saw Mattie wasn’t there and tramped through to the sitting room. Of course, she wasn’t there either, and he faced her, a scowl darkening his features. “Is she in your bedroom?”

      Her cheeks burned. The man was far too bold and overbearing. “She isn’t here. Why would you think she is?”

      He scrubbed at his chin. “I don’t know what to think. She never acted like this before you—” He seemed to think better of finishing his sentence.

      “Before I came?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Didn’t need to. His eyes said it all. “You’re blaming me for her behavior?” Her anger flared to match his. “I’ve spent only a matter of hours with her. You’ve spent six years with her. How could I have that much influence?”

      “I don’t know.” He didn’t shout but it felt like he had.

      “I can see you’re upset about something. Perhaps if you told me why, I could help.”

      “How?”

      She understood what he didn’t say. What could she—a city woman—do in any situation out СКАЧАТЬ