Montana Cowboy Daddy

Sadie chuckled. “From my limited experience I would say most ranch families don’t dress in evening wear for the meal. What you’re wearing is fine.”

“Oh, but I’m all dusty from traveling. I must change.” Her trunks had been carried to the doctor’s house and she hurried across the street. In her haste she rushed through the door and straight into the chest of Dawson Marshall. She staggered backward.

Dawson grabbed her arm and steadied her. “Begging your pardon, miss.”

She shook her head. “My fault. I apologize.” His fingers burned a trail straight to her heart. No, that wasn’t possible. Putting a healthy distance between them, she pulled her thoughts together.

“Come, Mattie. We have things to do. I’ll be back in an hour to take you to the ranch.” Dawson practically dragged the child away, leaving Isabelle as out of breath as if she’d run the full length of the rutted street. She folded her hands together as a war of emotions raged through her. The certainty that Dawson did not approve of her. Determination to fit in. A chance to prove she had more to offer than a sizable inheritance. She would prove it once and for all.

She glanced about at the stacks of crates and travel bags. This would be the sitting room. The wine-colored sofa would fit nicely against the far wall, allowing a view out the windows—two faced the street, and another revealed the side view of ashes and bare ground. There were two armchairs. They should be placed between the front windows allowing good light for reading. A small stove warmed the room.

Doing her best not to think of the motherless Mattie and her doting father, Isabelle wandered through to the kitchen with its table and chairs, cupboards and a shiny stove radiating heat. Someone had wanted them to feel welcome. Or at least they meant to welcome Kate and her father, seeing as they hadn’t known she’d arrive with them. What would their opinion have been if they’d known? Some would immediately plan how many worthy projects they could persuade her to donate to. Others would be ready to dislike her solely because she had more money—much more money—than they. Very few would welcome her for no other reason than she was a young lady with a desire to prove she had something to offer other than her inheritance.

She stepped to a little room off the kitchen—a pantry that held only a few empty containers. Good thing they weren’t expected to make supper for themselves tonight.

There was something she could do right now...start organizing this household.

By the time Kate returned to the living quarters, Isabelle had put the dishes in the kitchen cupboard, a cloth upon the table with a lamp in the center, and a kettle full of water on the stove should anyone want tea.

“Wow. You’ve been busy,” Kate said with an approving look. “I appreciate your help.”

“It’s the least I can do. You’re in there helping your father. I surely want to do more than sit around and look ornamental.”

Kate chuckled. “Whether you sit or scrub dishes, you can’t help but be ornamental.”

“Far better to be useful. Here, help me move these things.” With Kate’s help, they rearranged the furniture in the sitting room and carried the trunks to the appropriate rooms.

Dr. Baker stepped from his office and sank wearily into the nearest chair. “I’m about spent. I wish we weren’t expected to go out this evening.”

Kate knelt at her father’s knees. “I can stay home with you if you’d rather.”

“Unfortunately,” Isabelle felt she must point out, “there’s no food in the house.”

“I think I saw a restaurant beside the hotel.” Kate looked out the window. “Yes, Miss Daisy’s Eatery. We could go there.”

“No,” the doctor said. “We’ll go. I’ll be fine.”

Kate did not look relieved. She had not quit worrying about her father since he’d been hurt when thrown from his wagon. He had lain unconscious for three days. Kate’s mother had died when she was young, so she was especially close to her father.

Isabelle turned away to stare out the window. In part she and Kate had become friends because they were both motherless. It had quickly grown beyond that.

Mattie was motherless, too. Isabelle’s heart went out to her. An idea blossomed in her mind. Perhaps God wanted her in this place for the purpose of befriending a motherless child. She knew a little how Mattie must feel and would willingly offer what comfort and assurance she could to the child.

* * *

Dawson wanted nothing so much as to ride out of town clear to the southern border of the ranch. He could assure himself his cows were safe and put from his mind the few fleeting images of Isabelle. He knew she spelled danger for him and his daughter. He’d leave right now but he had been tasked with taking the newcomers to the ranch, so instead he went to the livery barn and rented a carriage so they could ride in comfort. With Mattie beside him, he returned in an hour to the doctor’s house and stepped down to knock on the door.

Dr. Baker opened to greet him. Behind him stood the two young women. Miss Baker neat and tidy and rather ordinary looking. Miss Isabelle anything but ordinary looking. She’d changed into a dress that made her dark eyes seem larger and her skin more fair. The gown was blue—he supposed Violet would have called it royal blue. Violet’s memory served to bring his thoughts under control.

Doc already wore a heavy coat and the others reached for theirs. Isabelle’s was black wool with gold-colored frog closures.

The only reason he noticed such things, he assured himself, was that they had figured importantly in Violet’s life. The thought was filled with bitter regrets. The sooner he got this evening over with, the sooner he could shake the dust of town from his boots and head for the hills.

He assisted the young ladies to the backseat. Doc would sit in the front and he’d keep Mattie right beside him.

“We’ll get Miss Young and be on our way.” They stopped at the hotel and he assisted the new schoolteacher aboard.

“How far is the ranch?” Miss Young asked.

“The buildings are only four miles from town but the ranch lands extend far to the west and south.” Less distance to the north but they wouldn’t care about specifics. He glanced over his shoulder to speak to the ladies. And met Isabelle’s gaze. His thoughts stumbled and righted, and he remembered what he meant to say. “Have any of you been on a ranch before?”

“No. I’m anxious to see it.” Perhaps Isabelle spoke for all of them.

He couldn’t help wondering if she would be amused and entertained for a time or immediately bored by the realities of ranch life, much of it plain hard work, often repetitive and boring.

“Can you tell us a little about your ranch?” Miss Young asked.

Was she the only one who was curious? “My grandfather moved here just over a dozen years ago. He brought with him his two sons, my father and my uncle, as well as me and my two brothers—Conner is twenty-two, four years younger than me, and Logan two years younger than that—and our sister, Annie. My mother came, as well, but she passed away four years ago. My father took over the ranch and Uncle George runs the mercantile in town. According to Grandfather, he fought the elements, the Indians, the government, rustlers and gold miners to build a successful ranch.”

“And your grandmother?” Kate asked, gently.

“She died before we moved out here. Grandfather has never remarried.” He continued telling about the ranch. “We raise horses and cattle. The discovery of gold has given us a ready market for many of our animals.”

Mattie turned around to face the ladies. “You’ll like the ranch. It’s the best place in the world. Too bad you have to live in town.”

All the ladies chuckled at Mattie’s comment.

“Teachers have to live in town,” Miss Young said.

“So do doctors,” Kate added.

Dawson waited for Isabelle to say something. When she didn’t, he turned to look at her. She wore an expression he could only describe as both surprised and hopeful.

She blinked as she realized he watched her. “I have never lived anywhere but a city. I don’t even know what to expect.”

Mattie clapped her hands. “You are going to like it so much. It will be lots of fun.”

No one corrected her assumption that Isabelle would be living on the ranch. Or maybe Mattie only meant visiting.

He turned the corner where the trail climbed up an incline. They reached the crest, allowing them to see the ranch buildings in the hollow beyond. Pride filled his heart. “I was twelve when we moved here, full of excitement and expectation as only a young lad could be.”

Isabelle’s soft response came from the back. “I would say your grandfather was full of the same emotions.”

He’d never thought of that, but it was no doubt true. He pointed out the buildings. “The house greets you as you approach the ranch.” A two-story log-and-timber structure, it was big enough for many Marshalls, Grandfather had said on several occasions. “Barns, storehouses, harness room...” Dawson indicated the various buildings. All except the smaller house tucked into a copse of trees to the right of the main house, which he didn’t wish to discuss. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had an opportunity to warn Mattie and she pointed directly at it.

“That used to be our house before Mama died.”

A pall of silence fell over the occupants of the buggy.