Montana Cowboy Daddy

With a little sigh, she went to the corner of the yard that butted up to the doctor’s yard and sat cross-legged on the scraped ground. Soon the grass would grow back but, for now, the ground was bare. Mattie would get dirty but he couldn’t expect her to keep clean while she played here.

He turned his attention back to the construction, glancing up often to check on Mattie. She collected an assortment of wood chips and charred wood and arranged them around her, then sat and stared at the doctor’s house. He studied her. Could she see in the kitchen window? Did she see Isabelle? He could hardly forbid her to watch the house...though he would if it was possible. Having to work beside the doctor’s house provided far too many opportunities for Mattie to hope for a glimpse of her.

Isabelle had been all Mattie talked about on their ride to town. “Miss Isabelle tucked me in real good. She pulled the covers to my chin and snuggled them tight to my side. She said I was like a little cocoon. She said her mama used to do that for her. She sounded sad when she said that because both her mama and papa are dead.” Mattie had grown quiet.

He hadn’t known that, and for a moment his feelings softened.

A lonely note filled Mattie’s voice when she spoke again. “I think she’s sad. She told me she never quit missing her mama. It’s like a little shadow that follows her everywhere.”

He wondered if Mattie had absorbed some of Isabelle’s sadness. His determination rebounded. He must make sure the woman never again got a chance to talk to Mattie alone, but before he could think how he would stop it, Mattie laughed. “She tickled me and made me giggle.”

He should never have let Isabelle put Mattie to bed and wouldn’t have except for the glowering presence of his grandfather.

He glanced up and stared. Mattie had disappeared.

His heart kicking into a gallop, he straightened and looked around. His lungs released suddenly as he saw her picking through the sack of nails. They tightened again when she put nails between her teeth.

“Mattie.” He kept his voice much calmer than he felt for fear she’d suck in a nail. “Please don’t put nails in your mouth.”

“Why? You do.”

“I’m an adult.”

She gave him a look he had not seen before. He could only describe it as disbelief laced with accusation. Then she stalked back to the corner, where she planted her arms over her chest with a little huff.

A minute later, when he again checked on her, she had again disappeared.

He circled the building and found her climbing on the stack of lumber. A board slipped and she teetered. He crossed the remaining few feet in seconds and caught her.

“Mattie, please stay off the wood. You could be hurt.” He set her on the ground.

She dusted herself off and, with head high, marched away to the far corner of the yard and he returned to his work.

He barely took his eyes off her before she was again out of sight. He closed his eyes and calmed his frustration before he went in search of her. He circled the school twice and didn’t see her. This was so unlike his daughter he didn’t know what to make of it.

“Have you seen Mattie?” he asked of the other man, who had nailed a whole lot more boards to his side of the building than Dawson had on his.

“Yeah, she just went by.” He nodded in the direction he meant.

Dawson continued circling the building. But Mattie stayed ahead of him or behind him, purposely avoiding him, causing him to waste time.

He changed direction and waited at a corner hoping to catch her. He heard a little giggle and tensed. As soon as she stepped into sight, he scooped her up.

She squealed. “You scared me.” But rather than laugh, she frowned.

“Mattie, I have work to do. Stop playing games.” He set her down and returned to the piece of wood he meant to saw into the proper length.

A few minutes later he wasn’t surprised to glance up and find her gone. Instead of looking for her, he put his tools away and went to speak to the other man.

“I’m headed home.”

The man looked at the sun. “Early, ain’t it?”

“Gotta take Mattie home.”

“We ain’t getting much help on this, are we?” He tipped his head to the partially finished building. “Teacher and kids deserve a schoolhouse, wouldn’t you say?”

“I’m doing my best.” No reason he should feel he had to defend himself and yet he did.

“Maybe you could find someplace for your daughter to go after school.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He’d ask Annie to come to town and pick her up. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

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.

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