He’d come up with this...somewhat elaborate plan for her to be able to bridle Prince on her own. For a moment, hope soared but she stuffed it down inside.
“And what about a saddle?” she asked, the words expelled on a painful breath. “How shall I lift and secure the saddle with only one arm?” She extended the drawing back to him.
He watched her, those slate-gray eyes probably seeing too much. He didn’t reach out to take the paper.
“You don’t always have to have a saddle,” he said softly. “Or if there’s someone around to help ya, you could ask.”
She hated having to ask for help. Hated the helplessness of her condition. And yet, she’d come out here to do just that.
“And if the horse refuses to be trained?” she asked. Then she waved off the question. “Never mind. I came out here for another reason.”
“The pleasure of my company?” he teased. “Or to escape your Terrors?”
The boys’ behavior had not improved over the past few days. Daisy was ashamed that she’d locked herself in her room several times when her patience had run out. Once they’d attempted to pick the lock, and she’d almost thought about climbing out the window.
She wasn’t their mother; she couldn’t demand that they attend to chores on the ranch. Once he got home, her father would likely insist on it, so she’d made do and hoped that things would get better once her father and new stepmother returned.
“Neither,” she said stiffly. Because he left her no choice, she refolded his paper with some difficulty, her fingers stiff from the cold. She stuffed it in the pocket of her working dress and pulled out the paper she’d stowed there before leaving the house.
“This is a list of items I would like you to procure from the mercantile. I thought—since you would be in town anyway, to pick up my father and Audra—perhaps you wouldn’t mind doing me the favor.” It was the closest she could come to asking for his assistance. She rushed on, “The mercantile may not have some of the items in stock. If that is the case, please ask the owner to order them.”
He raised his brows at her. “Any reason you haven’t sent your uncle on this errand?”
Her cheeks warmed. “These are...Christmas gifts for my family. I can’t exactly craft anything homemade this year.” She was aware of the bitter note in her voice, but couldn’t do anything to quell it.
Now he took the paper from her hand, eyes softening the slightest bit. She didn’t want his pity, and stiffened her spine.
He tucked the paper into his pocket. “Why don’t you go into town with me? Surprise your pa at the train station.”
She thought about it. She honestly did, picturing her papa happy to see her. But she couldn’t get past the thought of other people on the streets, at the station—
“No, thank you,” she said stiffly.
He nodded. And maybe she imagined the flicker of disappointment in his eyes.
She rushed on, “I haven’t got the money right now, but I believe the proprietor will extend me the credit. My family has always been a good customer.”
She hadn’t had pocket money since early in the summer, and hadn’t seen any reason to ask her father for any, since she never left the ranch. Until now. She would find a way to make some money before the holiday, though.
But what if the store wouldn’t order her gifts without money up front?
“I’ll handle it,” the cowboy said.
“Thank you,” she returned stiffly. She spun on her heel to make for the door.
“If you change your mind about helping me train old Prince-boy, I’ll probably have this contraption fixed up by suppertime,” he called after her.
Even after she’d gone inside and checked on Belinda’s supper preparations and sequestered herself in her room, she couldn’t stop thinking about his contraption. Why would he do that?
She didn’t want his pity...but the project didn’t particularly smack of pity. He had thought of and created a way for her to learn to do a previously familiar task on her own.
But his idea was ridiculous. Wasn’t it?
She couldn’t go back to being the girl she was before.
But could she go on from here?
*
Hours later, Ricky stopped the sleigh in front of the mercantile in town and tied off the horses. The bitter wind had turned from the north and he had a gut feeling they were in for a storm. He hoped the train was on time and he could get the boss home before the storm arrived.
But first, Daisy’s errand.
He had to tear himself away from the urge to stare at the dirt-packed street, the scene of his recurring nightmare, and force his feet to move. He tipped his hat to a couple on the boardwalk, but they snubbed him by turning their faces the other direction. He stifled the ugly feeling that rose in him.
He ducked into the store, thankful for the chance to warm up near the potbellied stove. The mix of smells—coffee beans, textiles, leather, metals, the tang of fresh oranges—always made him think of Penny’s brother Sam and the family store he and his wife helped run back home in Bear Creek.
He cupped his hands over the stove, trying to retain some warmth. He nodded to the two old codgers playing checkers at a narrow table nearby. They watched him, neither nodding nor outright ignoring him.
He noticed a couple of gals in the corner of the store where all the feminine frills were housed. He didn’t recognize either of them, but they whispered behind gloved hands and kept shooting glances at him.
Heat crept up the back of his neck. No doubt they’d heard of his reputation. He hadn’t been back to town much since he’d taken the job cowboying for Richards. And this was why. What he knew about small towns was they had a long memory.
He didn’t want Daisy to be hurt by having her name attached to his.
And so he waited to make her purchases.
He dawdled by the stove, turned to warm his backside, and his eye caught on a lovely brooch in a glass display case. It was pretty, pretty enough for Daisy.
What was he thinking? He didn’t have any business even thinking about getting her a gift like that.
His distraction had kept him from noticing that the two gals had wandered closer. One of them stepped into his line of sight. “Are you Ricky White? I’m Adelaide.”
He nodded, but didn’t smile, didn’t speak. Didn’t want to encourage her.
Behind her, he saw the old men at the checkerboard frown and glance back at him again.
He gave another nod to the young women, trying not to be rude, and moved away, pretending to be interested in a display of belt buckles.
They tittered and whispered for another ten minutes before they finally left the store. He’d made a half circle and ended up across the store from where he’d started. Now he looked back at the codgers. They were still involved in their game, although he had a suspicion they were keeping tabs on him, as well. It was obvious they weren’t leaving, so he sighed and approached the proprietor. He hated the feeling of being watched. And judged.
The man listened to Ricky’s explanation, but was hesitant to extend credit for Daisy, who hadn’t been seen in town since the accident. Ricky had drunk away most of his pay from before this job but had saved up some since working for Richards. He agreed to pay for the items on Daisy’s behalf. She probably wouldn’t like it but she could pay him back just as easily as she could the mercantile.
Then they looked at her list. It was made up of two columns, the words mostly neat but with some letters slightly larger than the others. Dress fabric for Belinda. For her pa and stepma, a specific mantel clock she’d picked out from a catalog. A small gift for her uncle. It was the two books she had listed for the twins that he got hung up on.
Books?
For those active, troublemaking boys?
He could well imagine their expressions of dismay on Christmas morning.
He knew Daisy’s relationship with them was on shaky ground. If she bought them books for Christmas, he could only guess that their te
asing would get worse. It’s what he would have done at that age.
Likely their ma would purchase or make some necessities, like new trousers or boots.
Daisy should get them something completely frivolous. Not the books. They wouldn’t appreciate those.
And the shopkeeper was quick to agree with him.
But what? What would he have wanted at that age? What would he have gotten for one of his brothers?
And then he saw the perfect gift as he flipped through a catalog the man pulled from beneath the counter.
She might be angry if he bought something that wasn’t on her list.
But it might be worth it, to help ease her relationship with the twins, just a little.
*
“Papa!” Belinda flung herself at the man as he shouldered open the door. He laughed and caught her and pushed her inside so Audra could follow.
“It’s cold out!”
The twins accosted Audra, bombarding her with questions, as Daisy hung back in the parlor doorway.
The noise and bustle made Daisy’s head hurt, but she still found a smile for her father. She was so grateful they’d made it home safely. Maybe now things could go back to some semblance of normalcy.
The back door opened again, and Ricky pushed his way inside, loaded with luggage. He nodded to her as he passed by toward the stairs; their eyes caught and held for a second too long.
She hoped he wouldn’t mention anything about the Christmas gifts, and he didn’t, just nodded before he went back out on a gust of cold wind.
“Look at the Christmas decorations. Oh, it’s lovely!”
At her stepmother’s words, Daisy realized she’d been staring after the cowboy. She made herself smile as Belinda said, “Daisy put them up. Aren’t they pretty?”
Papa came to Daisy’s side and drew her against his side in a hug. “Reminds me of your mother,” he said, voice a little gruff.
Daisy’s eyes flicked around the room, finally coming to rest on Audra, whose eyes were narrowed with...approval?
“I saw that Belinda had started a nice stew. I’ve been griping to your father about missing my own kitchen—Daisy, why don’t you come help me get things ready for supper.”
The invitation was more a demand than a question and Daisy reluctantly joined her stepmother in the kitchen.
Audra pulled a loaf of the bread Belinda had baked yesterday from the bread box and put it on the counter. “Get the bowls out, dear?”
Daisy’s suspicions rose. Why did Audra want to speak with her now? She got the bowls out of the cabinet anyway.
“We had the most delightful time, and we rode back on the train from the last stop with some friends from Pattonville. They told me about an upcoming after-Christmas social, and I thought you’d want to know.”
The bowl slipped from Daisy’s hand and clanked onto the counter. But Audra didn’t even look up from slicing the bread.
“Why?” Daisy asked, hating the tremble in her voice.
“Because I thought you might like to go. You used to attend socials all the time.”
Daisy took special care with the next bowl, setting it carefully on the counter. Trying not to show how much this conversation was upsetting her. “That was before.”
“You’ve got to go back out in public eventually. Your father and I talked about you several times while we were gone...”
Audra kept talking, but the ringing in Daisy’s head prevented her from hearing.
Audra couldn’t force her to leave the ranch. Could she?
Daisy was shaking when she set out the last bowl with an audible clatter. “I won’t go,” she said, voice shaking like the rest of her.
Audra sat the knife down on the table, turning to look at Daisy full-on. Her calm manner was in direct contrast to the emotion boiling up inside Daisy. “Honey, you’ve got to face your friends eventually. You didn’t die in the accident. You lost your arm. It’s just like men who come home wounded from war, or—”
“It’s not like that at all—”
Audra’s firm voice rose over Daisy’s wavery one, interrupting her. “You can’t hide here on the ranch forever.” She paused, hesitated, but finally said, “Your father agrees with me—” Audra didn’t see, maybe didn’t want to see what just the idea of going out in public did to Daisy.
“No. I can’t.”
Daisy fled the room.
*
“What’s the matter?”
At the concerned male voice, Daisy whirled, trying to wipe the tears from her face, mostly unsuccessfully.
Ricky. He’d found her huddled on the back porch in the dark.
Her disastrous conversation with Audra had turned into an awkward family supper and she’d had to escape before the dessert course.
But she couldn’t bear to go back to her room, not after she’d felt trapped there so much with the twins bugging her while Papa had been gone. Now she shivered in her coat, thankful that the dark would keep Ricky from seeing too much. She hoped.
“I’m fine.”
The cowboy stepped up onto the porch, but kept his distance, leaning against the support post. “You don’t sound fine.”
She shook her head, throat clogging with tears again. She didn’t want to be this person, an emotional mess all the time.
But what Audra was asking...it was too much.
“She wants me to be someone I’m not—”
She broke off, because it didn’t feel right, telling him.
“‘She’ who?” he asked.
“Audra—” Again, she stifled the words, though part of her wanted to share with someone. “I shouldn’t be talking to you about it. It’s a family matter.”
He didn’t argue with her. Just shrugged; she saw the rise and fall of his shoulders in the shadows. “You’ve got a lot going on. Seems like you need a friend. Why shouldn’t it be me?”
Why shouldn’t it? She was so confused, and still upset by Audra’s demands.
“She wants me to attend a Christmas party,” she admitted in a whisper. “And I can’t go—I can’t face my friends. Acquaintances. Not like this. Audra pushes too hard.”
He listened to her ramblings. Just listened. And considered.
“Seems like she’s trying to help,” he finally said softly.
She started to protest, but he kept going. “Maybe she’s going about it the wrong way, but I don’t think she’s being malicious.”
She shook her head. He couldn’t know. He hadn’t been inside, a part of that conversation. Audra even had Papa agreeing with her!
“You’ve got to figure out who you are now,” he said. “So what if it’s different from who you used to be? You’re still beautiful. Strong.”
She shook her head again. She didn’t believe him. Couldn’t.
“So maybe you don’t go to the party,” he said. “Maybe you wait until you’re ready and you go have tea with a friend. Sit in her house and make conversation and ease into it.”
She couldn’t imagine that, either. Hadn’t she been the one to avoid her friends, even running away when they’d come calling? She hadn’t been any kind of friend—what if her old friends hated her now?
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready,” she whispered.
He didn’t argue as Audra had. He just stood, steady and strong. A rock of a cowboy.
She shivered a second time, the cold finally registering. “I should go back in.” And hide in her room some more.
She started to move toward the door, but paused when he spoke quietly.
“I ain’t the best at comforting, but Beau tells me the Lord directs our paths. If that’s true, then I know He’ll help you find the way you’re supposed to go.”
She murmured a good-night and ducked inside the house. The kitchen was empty, dark, quiet. There were muted voices upstairs; the twins on one end of the house and her parents on the other. Probably readying for bed, as they’d been traveling all day.
She stood looking out the kitchen window for
a long time. Half afraid of running into Audra on her way upstairs. But also partly thinking on the cowboy’s words.
He’d calmed her. She wasn’t sure if she could see herself doing what he said—becoming comfortable enough to seek out one of her friends. She didn’t know what the future held for herself. If she and Audra couldn’t learn to get on, then what?
Where could she go, if she couldn’t show herself in public? She had no other family she could turn to for help. Just Papa.
But suppose Audra won over Papa and they both demanded more than Daisy could give?
Parts of her were at war, on the inside. One part wanted to believe the cowboy’s platitude. The other part didn’t know if she would ever be brave enough to face the outside world.
dpgroup.org
Chapter Seven
After several days of Audra’s incessant, quiet-but-firm pushing, Daisy reluctantly agreed to attend Sunday worship with the family.
She was shaking as she struggled into the ill-fitting gown she’d worn for Papa’s wedding. She sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for Belinda to come and finish buttoning her up and fix her hair where it had fallen out of the braid she’d slept in.
Her mind roiled with the same questions she’d wrestled with since the frank—and hurtful—discussion with Audra.
Was her stepmother right, in some ways? Was she hiding, acting as if she’d died instead of working to overcome the limitations of her injury?
But Audra didn’t know what it was like to wake up from a horrible nightmare and find it was reality. To wake up without one’s right arm.
How could she ask this of Daisy, when she didn’t know?
Panic clawed its way up Daisy’s throat as she imagined being in the sleigh with her family, making their way down the drive and to town. Stepping out of the wagon in front of the church building. Greeting neighbors.
Accepting their pitying looks and facing the children’s inevitable curiosity.
She couldn’t do it.
She jumped from the bed and rushed to the door, just as it began to crack open. She thumped it closed with the weight of her body and twisted the skeleton key that locked it.
A Cowboy for Christmas (Mills & Boon Love Inspired Historical) (Wyoming Legacy - Book 5) Page 7
