The Cowboy's City Girl

by Linda Ford

  Dolly slowly quieted, believing Levi’s promise.

  Beatrice found herself believing it, as well. What was there about this man that made her so easily forget that she didn’t intend to trust any man ever again?

  Levi wiped away Dolly’s tears. “Tell me where you last saw her.”

  “There,” she whispered as she pointed toward the shed.

  “Maybe she’s still there.” They knelt down and peered under the wall. “You should call her,” Levi said.

  “Come here, Smokey.”

  “She’ll never hear you if you only whisper.” Levi’s gaze came to Beatrice and she understood he wanted the child to speak in a normal tone of voice.

  She knelt beside the pair. “Call your kitty, Dolly.”

  Dolly sucked in a deep breath and called, “Come here, Smokey.” Her voice barely passed a whisper, but at least it was out loud.

  “She’ll surely hear that,” Levi said, sounding as proud as if he had taught her to speak a new language.

  Dolly sat back on her heels. “Maybe she’s not there.” Her voice was back to a whisper.

  “Call her again. She might only be frightened and need to hear your voice.”

  She raised her voice and called again.

  “Meow.”

  “I hear her. I hear her.”

  Beatrice and Levi grinned at each other when Dolly used her normal voice.

  “Come on, Smokey. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

  The kitten poked her nose out from under the shed, then slowly came out, going directly to Dolly.

  She picked up her cat and buried her face in the animal’s fur.

  Charlie let out a sigh of relief and hurried away.

  Levi sat on the ground, his back to the wall of the shed. He looked at Beatrice and patted the ground next to him.

  She should refuse. She should do something else but she could think of nothing else to do. You’re a city girl. Remember what he thinks of city girls. But it wasn’t like she planned to stay on the ranch longer than Maisie needed her. So she sat beside him.

  Dolly found a long blade of grass and began playing with the kitten. Soon they had moved a few feet away.

  It was rather pleasant sitting in the shade with a man who took the time to help a little girl. She knew not all men were so kind. Nor were all cowboys. Levi must be a breed of his own.

  “You never did tell me why it was so important that you have a job.” His words ended her pleasant thoughts.

  “I don’t think my reasons would matter to you.”

  “Why not? Because I’m just a half-breed cowboy who doesn’t have normal feelings?”

  She could not miss the hurt in his voice and shifted to look into his eyes. “I never meant anything of the sort, nor do I think it.” She waited as his expression softened. “You give me reason to think someone you cared about said those words to you.” Seeing a flash of pain in his eyes, she wondered if she should drop the subject. “Did they?”

  “Half-breeds belong in no-man’s-land.”

  “Who says?”

  “People.”

  She waited but from the stubborn set of his jaw she knew she would get no more from him. Nor could she say why it mattered. Normally she would not have shown half so much interest in what a man thought, or why. Perhaps that was why she’d believed Henry St. James truly cared for her.

  Thankfully, Levi, too, chose not to press her for her reason for needing a job.

  What would she have said if he did? Would he be sympathetic to her plight, or see it as proof she didn’t belong in the country?

  Chapter Six

  How had she guessed so accurately why he believed what he did about himself? Yes, he’d heard it off and on most of his life, but when Helen had said things that made him think being a half-breed made him unacceptable, his heart had taken the words and stored them.

  Levi told himself it was time to get back to work but still he sat beside Beatrice watching Dolly play. The only excuse he allowed himself was his concern for the child. “Why do you think she whispers all the time?”

  Beatrice told him how the child’s mother had said Dolly must be quiet in order for her father to get better. “Maybe she blames herself for her papa’s death and somehow, in her childish mind, she thinks if she doesn’t make any noise, things will be okay.”

  “The poor child. Maybe it’s wrong of me to encourage her to talk out loud. Am I just adding to her sense of guilt?”

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  They contemplated the situation for a few minutes then Beatrice spoke. “I suppose we should let her find her own way. All we can do is help her feel safe.”

  Dolly had gotten several yards away and glanced over her shoulder to see where Levi and Beatrice were. She walked back and edged between them.

  Beatrice and Levi grinned at each other over her head.

  “Seems she feels safe with us,” Beatrice murmured.

  He grinned at her. “I kind of like knowing that.”

  “Me, too.”

  He held her gaze, searching for and finding a sense of belonging even if it was only because they shared a concern for this orphaned child. With a guilty start, he realized he’d never felt this sense of unity with Helen. With her, it had always been about earning her favor.

  He broke the eye connection first, knowing his thoughts had gone to dangerous territory. She was a city girl, with secrets. She was only here to do a job then she would leave. And he did not intend to open his heart to more pain.

  But his eyes wanted to return to hers, to explore further, perhaps even to let her glimpse something in his own heart. Instead of listening to the demands of his heart, he focused his attention on her hand, resting on Dolly’s knee.

  Without giving himself time to change his mind, he placed his hand on Dolly’s other knee. So much for not listening to his heart.

  The three of them sat together. No one spoke. No one moved.

  Contentment eased away the sting of Helen’s words. He could get used to this feeling.

  “Levi, come quick.” The urgency of Charlie’s call jolted Levi to his feet and he raced toward the sound.

  “What is it?” he asked as soon as he was close enough.

  “There’s something wrong with one of the mares. She’s down and can’t get up.”

  He didn’t bother to get any more details from Charlie, but raced past him to the horse pasture. He immediately saw the mare Charlie was concerned about. She was in the far corner, stretched out, her legs clumped together in an odd manner.

  Levi vaulted the fence and jogged across the grass, alert to any dangers. He suspected the mischief makers had something to do with this. He knew he was right before he reached the mare’s side.

  “Whoa. Take it easy.” He slowed and approached the struggling mare cautiously. Someone had tied her legs with a thin rope and the animal had managed to further entangle her legs. “Whoa. Whoa.” He signaled for Charlie to stay back and caught a glimpse of Beatrice and Dolly at the fence, but he remained focused on the horse.

  He reached her head and held her until she stopped struggling, then he began to unwind the rope from her limbs, a task that required a lot of pulling and tugging. Finally he freed the mare and spoke soothingly as he rubbed his hands along her legs, searching for injuries or hot spots. She seemed fine but he’d use some liniment just to be sure. Fashioning a halter to put on her, he led her across the pasture.

  Charlie waited at the gate and opened it to let them out.

  “She doesn’t seem to be limping,” Levi observed with relief.

  “How did it happen?” Charlie demanded. “This is worse than leaving a gate down.”

  “They must have done it while we were having breakfast.” Or while he sat in the s
hade enjoying his time with Beatrice and Dolly. “Thankfully she hasn’t been tangled long.” He waited for Charlie to close the gate, not leaving until he was certain the gate was good and tight.

  Beatrice and Dolly stood several yards away, observing it all.

  How was he to show the little girl she was safe if someone kept causing trouble? He could only hope that, at five, Dolly was old enough to start to put together how bad things happened yet life could be safe, especially if there were people to help you. He hoped she’d seen him as one of those who would help. “You want to watch me rub her leg?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Then come along.” He signaled for them to come to his side, feeling again a taste of contentment as the three of them led the mare to the barn. He tied her up and showed Beatrice and Dolly where to stand so they could see and yet not alarm the mare. Then he went to the tack room, found the liniment and returned. He poured the liquid into his cupped hands and smoothed it over first one of the mare’s legs and then another until he had done them all. There was something soothing about massaging the animal’s limbs, his head pressed to her flank.

  “Is she hurt?” Dolly whispered.

  “I think she’s okay.” He’d have to keep a much closer watch on the animals.

  “You saved her,” Dolly added.

  He appreciated the child’s approval even though it was partially unwarranted. If he hadn’t untangled the horse, Charlie would have. And if neither of them had been nearby? Likely the mare would have realized she couldn’t free herself and lain down to wait for rescue.

  At least the culprits hadn’t used wire.

  Dolly climbed off the fence where she’s been watching and went to the doorway to play in the sunshine with Smokey.

  “I’m just a city girl,” Beatrice said. “But I know this animal could have been seriously hurt. Why would anyone do such a thing?”

  “I don’t know and it’s not knowing that frustrates me. I haven’t been able to catch anyone in the act. I’ve seen tracks and I’ve tried to follow them. That’s what I was doing when I came across you in the river.”

  “I appreciate you rescuing me.”

  He glanced up in time to catch pink stealing across her cheeks. Was she embarrassed at having to be rescued? Or did she think of him carrying her from the water? He smiled at the pleasure the memory gave him and wondered if she shared any degree of the feeling.

  She met his eyes and the pink deepened.

  He ducked his head, concentrating on the horse’s legs. If the pink meant anything, perhaps she enjoyed the memory.

  “I take it you’ve never caught up to them.”

  “No. They are smart enough to ride over rocks, or through the river, or otherwise hide their tracks and I have not found any sign of a camp. They don’t do anything very serious. Even this—” he indicated the mare’s legs “—was done with rope rather than wire. I just wish I knew what they were up to.”

  “Are you saying that they are just making a nuisance of themselves? But for what purpose?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Could they be hoping to keep you distracted so they can do something else?”

  He sat back on his heels. “I’ve wondered about that but I can’t think what. The cows are all in pastures to the west and there are plenty of cowboys keeping an eye on them. The only thing here is the horses and the people.”

  She gasped. “Like me? Are they after me?”

  He straightened and went to the fence so they stood face-to-face only a foot apart. “This started days before you came but never mind that. Why would you think someone would be after you?”

  She shifted so he saw only her profile. “There’s no reason. I overreacted.”

  “Beatrice, are you running from someone? Do I have reason to worry someone might be after you?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that.”

  He caught her chin and turned her face to his. Her eyes darted past him. “Beatrice, I can’t keep everyone safe if I don’t know what to expect. I think you better tell me what you’re afraid of.”

  Slowly her gaze came to him. “I don’t think there is any cause for you to be concerned.”

  “Perhaps you can let me be the judge of that.” He kept his finger and thumb on her chin so she couldn’t turn away.

  She swallowed hard. Her eyes begged for mercy.

  His almost released her, but if she was in any kind of danger, he wanted to know. Not just for the sake of the ranch, or even Maisie. But for her sake, as well. He would protect her. “I need to know.” He spoke softly, calmly, much as he had spoken to the mare, though he didn’t feel at all like he had with the horse. And he wasn’t about to examine that thought right now.

  “I suppose you could say I’m running,” she said. “From my father.”

  His fingers gentled, brushing more than holding as he sensed her pain. “Why?”

  She sucked in air. “I wasn’t willing to go along with his plans for me.”

  “Such as?” he persisted.

  Her eyes sparked gold daggers. “Marry a man of his choosing simply because he needed a suitable son-in-law, seeing as I did the unspeakable by being born a girl, leaving him without a male heir.”

  He blinked at her sudden anger. “You didn’t care for the man?”

  “Men who only wanted to become the Doyle heir.” Her eyes filled with hurt that tore at his innards. “I will be more than someone’s means of getting ahead. My father sent me to my aunt Opal in the hopes I would come to my senses.” She snorted. “I have no such intention. I don’t need his money. I will learn to support myself.”

  A chain of emotions raced through Levi—sadness at how she’d been treated, admiration at her determination to stand on her own and a great urge to pull her into his arms and comfort her. He understood she tried to appear strong but he saw the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

  She turned and his fingers dropped from her chin to her shoulder. He pulled her toward him but the fence stood between them. If he wasn’t mistaken, she leaned into the fence as if wishing it was not there.

  “Beatrice, I believe you will find your own way.”

  “Yes, I will. And that means I’d better tend to my duties. Thank you for...” She waved her hand without finishing. As if not knowing what she was thankful for.

  He watched her leave, torn between an urge to run after her and tell her he would help her be the person she wanted to be and the fading warning uttered by his brain that he was not the sort of person she needed to assist her. Perhaps he should tell her so and take her back to town. But how could he? Maisie needed help. Dolly needed a place to learn to feel safe again and he...

  Well, he needed nothing but an answer to who was causing trouble on the ranch.

  * * *

  “First, we need potatoes and carrots. They’re in the garden. You’ll have to dig some for supper.”

  Maisie’s words made it sound so easy. She knew where potatoes came from, but she’d never personally been involved with getting them.

  Maisie gave her directions to the garden. “Dolly, do you want to stay with me?” Maisie had given her a bit of yarn to use to play with Smokey.

  “Okay,” Dolly whispered.

  Maisie smiled at the child and continued her instructions. “The potatoes are to the right of the gate, the carrots to the left. The digging fork is by the fence. Take a basin to bring them back in.”

  Every word made sense until she reached the garden. To the right were all sorts of plants. Which ones were potatoes?

  Levi crossed the yard—the last person she wanted to see right now. She did not want anyone to know how truly citified she was. How ill-prepared she was for this job. She did not want anyone to see how much it hurt to know how little her father had valued her. Or perhaps how greatly
he valued her, but for the wrong reasons. At least in her mind. Why had she told Levi? She might excuse it by saying she’d been touched by his gentleness with Dolly. By how he seemed content to sit in the shade with Beatrice and the child. Or perhaps it was triggered by watching his careful tending of the mare. But most likely it was because of the way he caught her chin and held it so firmly yet gently, triggering within her a need for more of the same. Not until that moment had she realized she was starved for kind and gentle touches which had been almost nonexistent in her life.

  Now she felt embarrassed and exposed before him.

  The thud of footsteps came closer.

  Go away. Please go away.

  “Lose something?”

  She straightened. “No. Just looking at—” she kicked at the soil, desperate for a reasonable explanation of her purpose “—at the garden.”

  He grinned. “See you found it. ’Course it’s kind of hard to miss what with the scarecrow in the middle, the fence around it and all the plants inside the fence.”

  He seemed to be enjoying this greatly. What did he think of her awkward confession? Oh, if only she could hope someone would see her for who she was, who she wanted to be.

  Who was that? An independent, self-sufficient woman who needed no man to take care of her, she firmly informed herself. And best she not forget it.

  She hadn’t noticed the scarecrow and turned to study it. It stood amidst the plants, a stuffed shirt, stuffed pair of trousers and a face drawn on a gunnysack. The mouth held a corncob pipe. One eye winked. There were even whiskers and scraggly hair. Despite herself, she chuckled. “Could it be fashioned after a relative of yours?”

  He laughed. “How did you guess? It’s my uncle six times removed.”

  It took too much effort to remain upset and she turned back to him, a smile cheering her heart.

  He grinned, his dark eyes twinkling.

  She couldn’t remember why she was supposed to be annoyed as their gazes went on and on. Independent, self-sufficient. Remember? With a great deal of effort, she tore her gaze away and kicked at the soil.

  “Are you here after potatoes?”