His Prairie Sweetheart

by Erica Vetsch

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  The Cowboy’s City Girl

  by Linda Ford

  Chapter One

  Summer 1899

  Near Granite Creek, Montana

  Beatrice Doyle squealed as the buggy lurched to one side and ground to a halt. What had happened? She pulled her hat forward to protect her face from the slashing rain, looked down on both sides of the buggy and groaned. One wheel had fallen off the narrow track that would allow her to cross the tossing water of the river and get safely to her destination.

  Clouds darkened the afternoon. Flashes of lightning crisscrossed the sky. Thunder followed in a constant roll and crash. She sat, staring straight ahead, the reins slack in her hand with no notion of how to get out of this predicament. Until two weeks ago she had lived a sheltered, protected life and had certainly never driven a buggy. She’d lived in the city, the only child of her parents, and she’d thought her life would continue on the same pleasant note. How could she have been so wrong?

  Now here she was in Montana, a far cry from Chicago. Thankfully Uncle Elwood and Aunt Opal had welcomed her into their home. Beatrice had come west with the intention of learning skills that would enable her to become independent, and she was learning them at an incredibly brisk pace.

  When the influenza epidemic hit the town, Uncle Elwood’s responsibilities as the preacher had included ministering to the sick. Aunt Opal had helped and taken Beatrice with her.

  “Though I’ve a long ways to go before I can hope to run a house or take care of children,” she muttered to the raging sky. Learning to do anything else of practical use seemed even more impossible.

  When Uncle Elwood received news that Mrs. Harding was injured and needed help, Beatrice had begged to be allowed to take on the challenge.

  “But I don’t have time to take you there and you don’t know how to drive the buggy,” he’d protested.

  “You can show me. Besides, how many times have you said Old Sissy, your mare, knows what to do?”

  Her uncle began to relent at that point and had finally given in to her arguments as to why this was a good idea.

  “Well, Old Sissy,” Beatrice yelled. “What are you going to do?”

  The horse stood with her head down. Seems she found the rain every bit as miserable as did Beatrice, whose clothes were clinging to her. With no help from that direction, Beatrice gathered her wet skirts about her and climbed down to look at the wheel. She determinedly ignored the ankle-deep water soaking through her impractical shoes and further wetting her skirts as she studied her problem.

  If she pushed while Old Sissy pulled, they just might get the buggy back to level ground. Beatrice leaned her weight into the wheel and yelled at the horse to go.

  Beatrice’s foot slipped and she barely managed to catch herself before she fell downward in the water. As it was she stepped off the rocky road bed and into cold, dark water that licked at her knees and left her no closer to achieving her goal.

  Lightning streaked across the sky, momentarily blinding her. A bone-shaking crash of thunder followed almost directly on its heels and the air filled with a sulfur smell.

  She had no desire to spend the rest of the afternoon in the middle of a river with rain pouring down on her head. “I have to get out of here.” She grunted and again leaned into the wheel.

  A hand caught her shoulder and jerked her back. “Lady, leave it be.”

  She struggled against the grasp of the water and the weight of her sodden clothing to turn and face the owner of the voice. She grabbed at the wheel to keep her balance and blinked at the man before her. She recognized the tall, dark and handsome cowboy, whom she’d seen previously in town. Her first thought on that occasion was that he seemed so sure of himself and where he belonged in the world.

  Not that she didn’t know exactly what her role in life was. Her father had made it abundantly clear, making her glad to leave home and head west. “With no son, it’s your duty to help the family by marrying well,” he’d said.

  “You’re Levi Harding.” His father, Big Sam, ran the biggest ranch in this part of Montana. “I’m on my way to your place. I understand your mother needs help.”

  He blinked, another flash of lightning bringing his features into sharp detail. The thunder followed almost immediately.

  “Lady, did no one tell you about the dangers of lightning and water?” Rain dripped from the brim of his sodden cowboy hat, providing a damp curtain in front of his face, but not so much she couldn’t see the frown on his lips.

  “Of course they did.” But she couldn’t think what she’d been told.

  “You’re a perfect lightning rod.”

  “You mean...?” Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t take in the danger to herself.

  He swept her off her feet and plowed his way through the water to solid ground. She should protest his boldness, but instead she clung to his shoulders and wished the rain would quit.

  He set her on her feet. “Stay here.” Levi turned back to the river, reached the horse and grabbed its reins, pulling and calling. A bright flash of lightning made Old Sissy rear in fear and revealed the sharp features of the man, his arms upraised like some kind of modern-day Moses.

  Beatrice’s heart lurched. How bold and strong he was. How many times had she wished for such a man to save her from her father’s plans? Reality squelched her eagerness. Yes, it might be looked upon as a romantic rescue except for a few small details. Like the pouring rain, her soaked clothes and the cold that had reached the marrow of her bones. And the hard, unyielding lump in her heart that warned her to never again trust a man to be what she wanted and needed.

  Shiver after shiver raced through her and her teeth rattled.

  Within a few moments, the buggy stood on solid ground again.

  He held out his hand to assist her to the seat. When she was as comfortable as her dampened state allowed, he tied his horse to the back and climbed up beside her. “I’ll get you safely to the ranch.”

  “Thank you.” This was not quite what she had in mind when she’d fled Chicago with Father’s words echoing in her ears and her mind set on making her own way in life.

  “You’ll not receive another nickel until you obey me,” he’d said without an ounce of sympathy, and Mother had stood resolutely at his side.

  She had no doubt he meant every word. All her life she’d known she was a disappointment to her parents for being born a girl instead of a boy. But not until recently did she realize the depth of their disappointment.

  It had begun when she fell in love with Henry St. James, a handsome, blond man who worked as a clerk in her father’s office. Because of his lowly station in her father’s business, Henry had insisted on meeting her in secret, but she fully expected he would eventually confront her father with a declaration of his love for her.

  How wrong she’d been. When her father discovered Henry’s interest in her, he had paid him to vanish. Henry hadn’t even cared enough to object or offer her an explanation. She began to suspect his interest all along had only been the hopes of financial improvement.

  After that Father had presented three suitable young men to her. “Any of these men can become my son and hei
r.”

  She’d wept in secret to think her father was selling her like something in the stockyards.

  She refused to marry any of them. “I will marry for love,” she had declared. Though she had no intention of ever marrying. How could she ever trust another man? Henry had vowed to defend her. Look how that had gone.

  Father had said she was simply being immature and selfish. But she had refused to be coerced, which caused her father to buy her a one-way ticket to Granite Creek, Montana, with the warning that she could return home when she came to her senses.

  The misery of being cold and wet matched the misery of her spirit.

  She lifted her head, ignoring the water dripping from her hat brim to her nose. She was not going back home to be married off by her father. She would use every opportunity to learn the necessary skills she would need in order to get a job so she could take care of herself. Mrs. Harding’s need was an answer to Beatrice’s prayer for a chance to prove herself.

  Never mind that Levi had rescued her and she’d felt safe in his arms. She would never again allow herself to trust in a man’s good intentions. No. She’d learned her lesson on what value she held.

  Levi had said nothing since they began the journey together. What sort of man was he? One who sat straight and focused on the trail ahead. Out of the corner of her eye she studied his profile. Strong, bold, angular. She’d seen him once before in town. Tall and dark. Aunt Opal said his mother had been a full-blooded Lakota Indian. The woman she was going to help was his stepmother.

  A half-breed. She didn’t know what to think. She’d seen the way her father treated the natives they’d encountered in Chicago with ruthless disdain. Yet the way Levi sat so straight and almost regal, she couldn’t imagine her father doing the same to him.

  Besides, he’d been willing to rescue a silly maiden standing in the river even at risk to his own safety.

  She turned to him. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

  His smile was fleeting but had lasted long enough for her to appreciate the way his features softened.

  “No problem. I could hardly stand by and hope you wouldn’t get hurt.”

  “I suppose not.” Though she’d met men who cared little about her personal needs and lots about lining their own pockets.

  The buggy hit a rough spot and she jostled, tipping toward the side.

  She was off balance and might have fallen off except Levi grabbed her arm and pulled her back upright. That was twice he’d saved her life. She didn’t know what to make of it.

  Just happenstance. As he said, he could hardly stand by and watch her get hurt.

  It was no cause for her to think it meant anything. She knew better.

  * * *

  Levi had wanted to get one of his new sisters-in-law to help his stepmother. Or even his brother Johnny’s new sister-in-law, Celia, but Maisie had refused, saying since she’d been helping care for the sick, she might be contagious and didn’t want the rest of the family exposed to the illness that had ravaged the town of Granite Creek and the surrounding area.

  Preacher Gage had said he would send someone to help her.

  Levi had been tracking the latest trail of the men creating havoc at the ranch when the rain erased any signs he might have followed. Near as he could tell, there were three riders, but who they were or why they seemed to take delight in making mischief around the ranch, he could not say. So far nothing had been seriously damaged nor was anything missing, but everything they did had the potential to be more serious. Gates had been left open, but he discovered it in time so the horses did not escape. A pile of oats had been left where the milk cow could get into it and founder, and again, only his vigilance had prevented it. The woodpile had been upset so he’d stacked it again before the rain came. The list went on and on. It frustrated him to no end that he hadn’t been able to catch the culprits and put a stop to it. Especially with Pa and the hired hands away.

  Levi had been left in charge and he meant to fulfill the responsibility.

  But losing the trail just as he reached the river had proven to be fortuitous. He saw in the water a young woman he didn’t recognize attempting to get her buggy unstuck while lightning flashed about her. His thoughts had turned to Helen. His heart had slammed into his ribs so hard he had grunted.

  Thankfully, he had not witnessed Helen drowning, but he’d imagined it many times. It was not something he wished to see repeated with this woman, though she was more likely to be struck with lightning than to drown.

  Before he could even give the thought consideration, he’d gone into the water and carried her to safety. As soon as he lifted her into his arms, he recognized her as the city girl, Miss Doyle, visiting her aunt Opal and uncle Elwood Gage. What was the preacher thinking to send her to help Maisie? From what he’d heard, she was more used to having servants than being one.

  No doubt, the preacher had his reasons. For instance, the fact that so many were ill with the influenza and more were falling sick all the time. Levi would just have to make the best of it and be grateful for whatever help she offered.

  A suspicion edged into his thoughts. Perhaps no one else was willing to work in a house where a half-breed lived. Did Miss Doyle know about his heritage? Or had Preacher Gage neglected to mention it? Maisie often reassured him that he was just as white as native, yet he knew many didn’t see it that way.

  Like Helen. He and she had been friends for a couple of years. He’d fancied himself in love with her. At sixteen he had begun to pressure her to promise to marry him when they both turned seventeen. Her reply had shocked him clear through.

  “We can be friends,” she’d said. “But Levi, I could never marry you. Do you know what people would say? Why, there would be homes where I wouldn’t be invited because I’d married a half-breed.”

  “How is that different than being my friend?”

  “People don’t have to know we’re friends. We can enjoy each other’s company out here far from town.”

  He had stalked away. He did not want a secret friendship any more than he wanted to be looked upon with shame and regret.

  Helen had drowned two weeks later, swimming alone. He couldn’t help thinking if he’d been there he might have been able to pull her to safety when she banged her head on a rock. Her loss had been devastating, but little did anyone know he’d felt the loss well before she drowned.

  A year ago, at eighteen, he’d met Fern Dafoe and had been attracted to her. He reasoned she would accept him because she was a half-breed like himself. But his interest in her had been short-lived. She had wanted him to join her father and her brothers in their nomadic way of life, a life that brought them perilously close to getting arrested on more than one occasion. After he’d told her that he didn’t want to leave the ranch and he didn’t want to join up with her wild family, she’d been angry and accused him of being too white.

  Too white for Fern. Too native for Helen.

  At that point, he’d made up his mind. He would never again open himself up to loss and rejection. Some might say he had grown too guarded, but he knew his heart could not withstand more. Perhaps losing his ma when he was only five had made him extra cautious.

  Miss Doyle’s voice brought him back to the present. “Mr. Harding, how far do we have to travel to get to your ranch?”

  “We’re almost there. I prefer you call me Levi. Mr. Harding is my pa, though mostly he’s known as Big Sam.”

  “So he’s a big man?”

  “In every way imaginable.”

  She tipped her head as if trying to fathom what he meant. “Big in size and big in heart?”

  “Yup. And big in personality.”

  “Oh.” She considered his reply for a moment. Her voice was soft as she asked her next question. “Will he frighten me?”

  Levi laughed. “Only if you let hi
m. But he’s not home right now. He and a bunch of cowhands have gone up the mountains where some cows are trapped by a landslide. They have to dig them out.”

  “You did not go with them?”

  “Someone had to remain at home to take care of things. Good thing I stayed behind. I can’t imagine what would have become of Ma if she’d been alone.” His voice hardened. If something happened to Ma he would have himself to blame.

  “I thought she was your stepmother.”

  He smiled. “I barely remember my own ma. Maisie is the only ma I’ve known. I should tell you why she needs help. I don’t know why she thought it was necessary to carry a sharp hoe into the loft of the barn just because she wanted to clean up the mouse droppings.” Couldn’t she have asked Levi to help? But she hadn’t. “She said she could smell mice every time she entered the barn. She fell from the ladder, landed on the hoe and laid open a deep cut on the back of her thigh.” He closed his eyes but that did nothing to erase the picture of blood soaking her skirts. “If she doesn’t rest her leg, she’ll end up crippled, or maybe worse.”

  Miss Doyle made a sympathetic sound and then sat up straighter, though he would have thought she was already poker straight. “I’m here to help.” She peered into the rain. “I see no houses. Do you have neighbors, Mr. Harding?”

  “Levi, remember?”

  “Yes, Levi. And please call me Beatrice.”

  “Thank you, Beatrice.” Her name suited her. Regal and distant.

  Though how distant had they been a few minutes ago as he carried her from the river? Should he explain it meant nothing? He was being neither bold nor inappropriate, only intent on saving her life. He decided the less he said about it, the sooner they would both forget it. “To answer your question. We don’t have many neighbors. My brother Tanner married this spring. He and his wife, Susanne, and the four children they adopted live a few miles to the west. My other brother, Johnny, married more recently and he and his wife, Willow, live three miles north. She brought a baby boy and two sisters to the marriage. Other than that our neighbors are no closer than town.”