Montana Cowboy Daddy

Such a woman was not equipped to live out here.

“Come on, Papa.” Mattie tugged on his arm.

“Where are we going?”

“After her.”

“I expect she is about her own business.” He could only hope and pray that business, whatever it was, would not attract any more of Mattie’s interest.

Mattie got up and tugged at Dawson.

He didn’t budge as Mattie did her best to pull him to his feet. She tugged. She jerked. She turned her back to him and leaned into his outstretched arm like a stubborn mule, grunting under the strain.

He laughed at the accurate comparison. If Mattie set her mind to an idea, she would not easily give it up. His smile flattened. Reason enough to divert her attraction from the beautiful newcomer.

He curled his arm about his daughter’s waist and drew her to his chest. “You know you will never be strong enough to move me.” He bussed a kiss on her neck.

She giggled. “There’s more than one way to get you to move.”

“Really? Who told you that?”

“Aunt Annie.”

Yup, his sister would feel free to tell Mattie her opinion. His little sister was only nineteen but had been taking care of Mattie for three years now. And the rest of the family even longer. She’d developed some very strong notions about things.

Mattie gave a decisive nod. “And Grandfather. He knows everything.”

She, like everyone else, called the eldest Marshall Grandfather. Dawson’s father was known to her as Grandpa Bud.

“Grandfather might not know everything. After all, he’s just a man.” The words almost stuck to his tongue. No one, least of all Grandfather, would look kindly on such a statement. After all, Bella Creek had been built by the Marshall patriarch to provide a safe and pleasant alternative to the ramshackle collection of buildings in the wild mining town known as Wolf Hollow. Many of the businesses had been created by him. Before that, he’d started the ranch. It was Grandfather who’d insisted the Marshalls were responsible for rebuilding the section of town the fire had destroyed and seeing to the replacement of the doctor and teacher.

“I’d do it myself if I could.” Grandfather had slapped at his legs as if to remind them all he could barely walk, let alone ride or do carpentry work. A wreck with a horse had left him badly crippled. But it wasn’t beneath him to use his regrettable condition to guilt them all into complying with his wishes.

For the most part, Dawson didn’t object to helping rebuild the destroyed buildings. He hadn’t known it would mean so many hours in town dealing with construction, finding materials and personnel. And why it had fallen to him to write out the advertisements for a new doctor and teacher and then sort through the applications, he could not say.

He smiled mockingly. Not that there’d been a lot of applicants. Not too many people cared to locate to the far northwest corner of Montana at the tail end of winter.

Mattie squirmed free of his grasp and grabbed both his hands. “Papa, she’ll disappear if you don’t stop her.”

“No one disappears.” Though he recalled the futility of trying to make a three-year-old believe that when her mother had ridden out of their lives and soon after died. As far as Mattie understood, her mother had disappeared. Thankfully, she was now old enough to understand a little better, though Dawson wondered if he would ever find words to adequately explain Violet’s restless behavior.

“But what if she does?” Her voice dripped with concern. “I could tell she was really afraid.”

Likely already realizing this rural life was more than she’d anticipated.

Ignoring the curious miners listening to every word, he planted his hands on Mattie’s shoulders to still her movements. “Listen to me, Mattie. She’s not the sort of woman you should be getting too friendly with.” The moment Miss Isabelle Redfield had stepped from the coach in her fancy clothes, fine shoes and flimsy scarf, he’d recognized her as a city woman through and through. He knew enough to be cautious around city women. But Mattie didn’t, and she’d eyed Miss Isabelle with far too much interest. “I doubt she’ll be staying here long.”

The excitement in Mattie’s eyes died, replaced with hurt. He wished he could change that but far better to be warned now than burned later.

One of the dusty miners shuffled his feet. “Begging your pardon, Mr. Marshall, but she looked to me to be exactly the sort of gal a man would do well to be friendly with. It’s been a long time since I seen anyone half so classy looking.”

Mattie nodded vigorously. “That’s what I thought, too.”

Dawson chewed his lips. The precise reason he knew she wouldn’t stay. Life here was rough and challenging. Not what well-heeled city ladies cared for. Like the miner said, there weren’t many like that around here.

Mattie’s voice grew dreamy. “She’s a real lady. Her scarf is as smooth as a kitten’s fur.” She rubbed her thumb and fingertip together as if still feeling the fabric. “Just like her voice and smile.” Mattie rubbed her arm. Dawson knew it was where Isabelle had touched her. “She was so kind.”

If only the woman would leave before his innocent little daughter grew any more interested in the fine lady and her silky scarf. “We need to get back to the ranch.” Hand in hand they left the doctor’s house.

“Dawson, over here.” Grandfather beckoned from in front of the hotel.

Dawson and Mattie crossed the street to join the older man.

“I’ll get the wagon and take you home,” Dawson said.

“No need. Annie’s coming.” Indeed, his sister drove the wagon toward them.

“When did you get to town?” he asked when she drew up beside them.

“Thought I’d have a look at the newcomers but I’ve missed them. Grandfather has fixed that by inviting them to the ranch for supper.”

“I haven’t had a chance to extend the invitation. Dawson, you can look after it,” Grandfather said.

“Me? I thought I was done here and could go find my cows.” He’d purchased his own herd last fall. They’d barely been moved to Marshall Five Ranch before snow fell. He’d checked on them periodically, hoping they wouldn’t wander off to more familiar pastures. Several times he’d had to herd them back from the boundaries of the ranch.

“The others can take care of it.” Pa and Dawson’s brothers had gone out to check on the cattle. But they meant to go north to where they expected to find the main bunch and Dawson’s cows always headed south.

Dawson opened his mouth to protest but Grandfather shook a cane at him. “Annie is going to make a meal for Doc and the ladies. You will bring them out.”

Dawson shut his mouth. There was no arguing with his grandfather when he was in one of these moods. Not for the first time, and likely not for the last, Dawson wished he had not been the one selected to greet the newcomers and get them settled. But his grandfather had insisted he was the eldest of the three brothers and so should be on the welcoming committee, and then he’d insisted he would ride along. And now it had come to this...inviting them out for supper. Doc, his daughter and the schoolteacher, he didn’t mind. But the fancy city gal? He wanted to keep Mattie as far from her as possible.

“That Miss Isabelle is a fine-looking woman.” Seemed Grandfather wasn’t about to let Dawson forget his opinion.

It was useless to dispute the matter. Besides, she was more than fine looking. She was beautiful. He’d noted so the first glance he had of her. Black hair tucked beneath a bonnet that matched her sapphire-blue coat, ebony eyes that gave a sweeping glance to those gathered to welcome the newcomers and ivory skin that would likely melt beneath the Montana sun.

“Puts me in mind of my own Annabelle. Even their names are alike.” Grandfather’s eyes grew watery.

Dawson figured it best to ignore the comparison. Probably the only way Isabelle was like his grandmother was the similarity in names. Nothing more.

Grandfather cleared his throat and brought his piercing gaze to Dawson. “A man would be fortunate to win the heart of such a gal.”

Dawson snorted softly, not wishing to offend the old man. “Don’t you think I’ve learned my lesson about city women?” A woman such as that would be forever restless on the ranch.

“Mattie needs a mother.” Both Dawson and Grandfather glanced over their shoulders to where Mattie kicked a hardened clump of dirt, oblivious to the conversation between the two men.

“I’ve no interest in marrying again.”

“It’s high time you got over Violet. Besides, it’s not fair to judge every woman by Violet’s actions.”

Dawson thought it was completely fair. And not just because of Violet. He could name half a dozen other instances where a family or community had been upset by the discontent of a city woman. One especially came to mind. Violet’s friend had come to town, turning upside down the life of one of Dawson’s good friends, Johnny, and then she’d moved on. Leaving his friend flat broke and emotionally shattered. In fact, he could think of no city woman who had adjusted to life on a ranch. But he kept his opinion to himself. No point in wasting words when he knew Grandfather wouldn’t listen.

Grandfather patted Dawson on the arm with his knotted fingers. “Give her a chance. You might be surprised to discover inner beauty to match her outer beauty.”

Dawson shook his head. “You’ve seen her, what? Fifteen minutes? Half an hour? And spoken less than a dozen words to her. How can you make any sort of judgment about her?”

“I might ask you the same thing. Now help me to the wagon. Annie needs to get home and prepare a meal.”

Dawson assisted the man to the seat beside Annie. As much as possible Dawson, his brothers or their father gave Grandfather what help he needed, but Annie managed when she was alone with him.

The pair drove off and Dawson called Mattie to him.

“Why did we stay here?” she asked.

“We are going to take the doctor and the ladies out to the ranch for supper.”

“Oh, goodie.” She did a happy skip and jump. “Miss Isabelle, too? Right?”

Grandfather would accept no excuse if Dawson showed up without her. “Somebody will have to feed them. There’s no food in the house yet.” He’d meant to have the pantry stocked by now but had fallen behind in that task. He’d left a notice at the store for people to contribute if they cared to. In the meantime, he would have to give in to Grandfather’s plans despite his better judgment. At least, the part of the old man’s plan where Dawson invited the newcomers to the ranch. Not the part where he tried to win the heart of one of them. And, for some reason, Grandfather had chosen Isabelle as the one Dawson should pursue. Dawson simply wasn’t interested. “Let’s invite them for the meal.”

They looked to the right and the left but he saw no sign of the fancy city lady.

“You said she wouldn’t disappear.” Mattie’s words accused him of being responsible for the lady’s absence. “Now I’ll never get to feel her soft scarf again.” She tsked. “Hardly think losing someone is going to meet with Grandfather’s approval.”

Mattie had been surrounded by adults all her life, except for the few months she’d spent in school before it burned to the ground. It had turned her into a small adult. But she was correct about Grandfather’s opinion. Dawson had unfinished business to attend to.

“Let’s go find the schoolteacher.” After that they’d look for Isabelle. She couldn’t have gone far. Probably in Uncle George’s general store being dismayed at the array of farm tools and the smell of turpentine.

Mattie marched along at his side as they stepped into the hotel lobby.

“She’s here,” Mattie whispered and hid behind him.

Indeed, Isabelle stood before a window as if studying the scene. He could tell her that what she saw was as exciting as life got around here. “I thought you couldn’t wait to find her.”

“I couldn’t.”

He had to bend to catch her whisper. “So why are you hiding?”

“’Cause she’s so pretty.”

He caught Mattie’s chin and tipped her face upward, waiting for her eyes to meet his. “You are pretty, too. Don’t ever forget it.”

She brushed her gray pinafore, giving it a mighty frown, and kicked out one scuffed black boot. “I’m not pretty. Look at this old dress.”

Dawson’s heart rent at yet another pain his daughter endured. She’d known far too many for one so young. But as to her clothes...well, she ran about freely at the ranch and wore clothes that allowed her to do so. The last thing Annie needed was more laundry and fancy dresses to take care of.

He squatted to Mattie’s eye level and caught her by the shoulders. “Honey, never let anyone judge you by the clothes you wear, how much money you have or what you do. Those are outward things. Remember the verse Grandpa Bud says so often. ‘Man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.’ It isn’t the outside that matters. It’s who you are on the inside.” He tapped her chest.

Mattie’s eyes widened as she looked at him. “Who am I?”

He stroked her cheek. “A sweet, kind, cheerful little girl who likes to make others happy.” When she smiled, he would have hugged her right then and there, but she’d warned him she was too big to be hugged in public.

He straightened. “Now let’s take care of those invites.” He held out his hand to her and she took it, squeezing it as hard as her little fingers allowed.

They crossed to where Miss Isabelle stood looking out a window.

“Miss.”

She turned.

He swallowed hard. The miner was right. They didn’t often see such beautiful ladies. Nor one with such patient eyes. They revealed no sign of restlessness. That would come later. “You and the others are invited to join us at the ranch this evening for supper.”

She tipped her head in acknowledgment. “Thank you but I cannot accept or decline until I consult with Dr. Baker and Kate as to a method of conveyance.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll take you all there.”

She nodded. “Then if it suits the others, I accept. Thank you.” She stood before him, her hands folded, that silly scarf caught between her palms. Smooth as a kitten’s fur. Though he wasn’t sure if he meant the scarf. Or her manners. Or something else entirely.

He slid his gaze past her shoulder. “Where might I find Miss Young?”

The schoolteacher descended the stairs. “Are you seeking me?”

He extended the same invitation to her then hurried outside, where he filled his lungs with cool mountain air.

“Are you okay, Papa?” Mattie asked.

He settled his mind. Of course he was fine. Never again would a beautiful unsuitable woman be allowed to upset his world. He would ignore Grandfather’s matchmaking plans because he didn’t need or want a wife, and despite Mattie’s fascination with Isabelle, he knew she would be most unsuitable.

Chapter Two

Isabelle couldn’t help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Marshall and his daughter. Not that she tried very hard to ignore them. There was something appealing about the big man bending over his little girl. She was such a pretty thing and yet it seemed she wasn’t certain of it. How sweet to hear him remind her it was her inner qualities that mattered.

Those words made her press her lips together as a great yearning emptied her insides of every rational thought. Her mother and father had likewise doted on her. Cousin Augusta was genuinely fond and caring. Why couldn’t it be enough? Oh, Father God, why do I search for more when I have Your love? If only she could persuade herself it was all she needed.

Dawson Marshall and little Mattie left the hotel. Isabelle watched them standing on the sidewalk outside. He bent low to hear something Mattie said. And Isabelle’s chest grew tight. She rubbed at her breastbone.

Sadie joined her at the window. “Does that man frighten you as much as he frightens me?”

What an odd thing to say. “Frighten isn’t the word I’d use.” Intrigue? Confuse? How silly. Of course he didn’t confuse her.

“Really?” Sadie continued as they watched the man and his daughter. “He’s so big and I get the feeling he’ll tolerate no nonsense.”

“Maybe.” Isabelle didn’t see that as a negative. “He’s certainly fond of his little girl.”

Sadie agreed. “I wouldn’t want to do anything he might construe as harmful to her.”

“But you surely wouldn’t.”

“Not intentionally. But I have learned that parents often have a different view of things than a lowly teacher.”

At least Sadie had a place in society as a teacher. Though Isabelle did, too—as the heiress. Not a position she cared for. Her resolve returned. She intended to find for herself a role that proved her usefulness. A sigh eased past her lips at the enormity of the task.

Across the street, Mattie and her father stepped into the doctor’s house and Isabelle shuddered. She must conquer her feelings about sickrooms if she meant to help Kate and her father. Unless...

She turned back to Sadie. “When will you start teaching?”

Sadie wrinkled her nose. “I have no idea. The school isn’t built yet. The clerk over there—” she indicated the man at the desk watching them curiously “—says the town plans to start work on the new school next week. Says it won’t take long to complete with many hands on deck.” The way Sadie said it, Isabelle knew she quoted the man. “I don’t know what I’m expected to do while I wait.”

The poor girl rocked her head back and forth.

“I’m sorry.” So much for thinking she could help with the teaching. Lord, there must be something I can do to prove my usefulness. She’d keep her eyes and ears open. In the meantime...

“Supper. The evening meal.” She’d learned the correct terminology in the days it took to arrive at Bella Creek. “What does one wear?”

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?”