The Rancher's Courtship
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Jack nodded, a little uneasily. “I left it in my saddlebags on the step,” he said.
“Would you go get it, please?” Caroline asked. “I’m thinking we might need to launder what they’ll wear to the wedding.”
He arose and went to the door, his steps those of a condemned man walking to the gallows. Brushing off the saddlebags as he entered, he crossed the kitchen and laid them on the table.
“Now, you have to remember,” he began, his tone apologetic, “they didn’t get off the ranch much, and they’ve been traveling with us drovers and the herd…I—I’m afraid there’s not much you’d consider suitable… .”
Caroline opened one saddlebag and dumped its contents on the table, then the other. The saddlebags contained boys’ shirts and pants—and nothing else.
Chapter Six
“Where…where are the dresses?” Caroline asked, thunderstruck. “This can’t be all you packed for those little girls?” Then suddenly she knew it was all, and she raised her gaze to Jack’s guilty face.
“Their blue pinafore dresses are the only dresses you brought.” It was a statement, not a question. She hadn’t meant to expose his poor planning again, but it was too late to call back her words. It had just never occurred to her that a father might not see the need for little girls to have more than one dress.
He nodded, then shrugged. “I figured there was no point in dresses on the trail, and they’d been wearing pants around the ranch ever since—well, ever since my wife died,” he said. “We only had one Mexican cook who did the laundry, too, and when the girls grew out of their old dresses, I—I didn’t see any point in having more than a pair of new ones made as they grew. They used the cook’s son’s castoffs—he was a little older. Yesterday, I—I wanted them to make a good impression…”
He looked so miserable in his confession. Caroline’s heart went out to him. “Well, no matter,” she said quickly, “I’m sure they can wear some of my dresses from childhood. Mama never threw anything out, right?” she asked her mother for confirmation.
“Sure, I imagine they’re still in that old trunk in the shed. Land sakes, it’s not like little girls’ fashions change all that much from year to year. They’ll do till I have a chance to make up some new dresses,” she added, clearly cheered by the prospect. “Maybe I’ll pop down to the mercantile first thing tomorrow before the wedding and see what Mrs. Patterson has in the way of pretty fabrics. Caroline, mind that stew. Your father and I can go get those boxes out of the trunk in the shed while it’s still light enough to see what we’re looking at.”
Jack watched as Caroline’s parents left the kitchen. Then he turned back to Caroline.
“Reckon you don’t think I’m much good as a father, not keeping my girls in proper clothing,” he said.
That was exactly what she had thought, but Caroline wouldn’t have admitted it for the world. “Don’t worry, Jack, Mama’s been itching to have some little girls to dress ever since I grew up. By Christmas they’ll each have such a wardrobe you’ll have to address each one as ‘Princess.’”
He gave her the ghost of a smile, but she was relieved to see his shoulders slacken their rigid posture.
“Lucinda was a good mother,” he said at last. “It’s a good thing she doesn’t know all I’ve put them through. If she did, she’d want to come down from Heaven and box my ears.”
“No, she wouldn’t,” she assured him, laying a hand impulsively on his forearm. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Jack. I believe those who’ve passed on do know what their loved ones are going through, and they understand. She knows you’ve done the best you could. You’re trying to build a better life for them and yourself—it’s why you’re going to Montana, isn’t it?”
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