The Cowboy's City Girl

by Linda Ford

  It was almost laughable that she thought the worst. “No. I wasn’t even there when it happened.”

  “Then I don’t understand your meaning.”

  “I should have known better than to let myself care.” His gaze jerked to hers. I won’t let myself care again, he silently warned.

  “Why? Are you afraid of being hurt? Aren’t some things worth the risk of pain?” Her words were as soft as butterfly wings, and just like butterfly wings made their way into forbidden places. They landed softly in his heart, making it difficult to guard his feelings.

  He shook himself. He needed to deny he was afraid. “After a few hurts, a person learns to guard their heart.”

  “A few? I don’t understand.”

  “We almost lost Maisie years ago.” Why did her gentle questions race straight for his heart without giving his brain a chance to censure what he would say? “Forget it. It wasn’t important.”

  “Obviously it was or you wouldn’t still be naming it. What happened to Maisie?”

  Rather than answer, he strode along the trail again. She scurried to keep up. He slowed to accommodate her. “Us boys didn’t know what was wrong with her. We understood afterward that she had lost another baby she hoped to have. But she stayed in bed. Never got up to look after us. Pa said she had a broken heart. I asked if a person could die from a broken heart and he said it was possible. Even though I was only ten at the time I thought if that happened I would die of a broken heart, too.”

  “She obviously did not die. What happened?”

  Tension eased away as he thought of what he’d done. “I decided I wouldn’t let her go without doing everything I could to bring her back. So every day I took her a gift. A flower, a feather, a cookie baked by the girl who came to help, anything to make her interested in life again.”

  “Levi, that was so kind of you. It must have meant a lot to her.”

  “She said afterward that my visits helped her see how much she had to live for.” Silence followed his confession. “I suppose you think me a little foolish.”

  “Not at all. But...”

  Did he want to hear her but? Two steps later he had to know. “But what?”

  “Rather than make you afraid to care about someone I think it would make you realize how much you can do for those you care about.”

  “I let myself care about Helen. That didn’t turn out so good, did it?” He wouldn’t tell her of the cruel, heart-twisting words Helen had said.

  “No, it didn’t. I’m sorry for your loss. But I think it’s because you want love that you fear it. You know how powerful it is but you want assurances at the same time. Life doesn’t come with such assurances but you chose the Bible reading this morning. God says He will be with us so we’re not overwhelmed.”

  A patch of bright flowers in many colors came into sight. Glad of a diversion, he pointed it out.

  She fell to her knees at the brown-eyed Susans. He expected her to pick them but she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “I can almost hear the earth sing with joy. Without the ability to use words, it sends out beautiful flowers.”

  “You certainly have a way with words.” He listened hard. She was right. A person could hear something deep and primal. But not from the earth—from his heart. What would it be like to share life with someone like Beatrice, who saw life in such a beautiful way? Would it make him able to believe in the goodness of others? He scoffed at his wayward thoughts.

  He sat on a grassy spot nearby and watched as she opened her eyes and touched several of the blossoms. Almost reverently.

  After a bit, she sat back. “Thank you, Levi,” she said, her expression serious. She plucked a tall slender harebell. “I did not mean to make light of the pain and distress you have felt over your losses. First, your ma. Then fearing you might lose Maisie, then Helen’s drowning. I realize it’s a lot and I did not mean to be unsympathetic.” She handed him the blue flower then brushed her gloved hand along his shirt-covered forearm, sending a flood of sensations up his nerves. It felt good to have someone acknowledge his feelings. He pressed his hand to hers and smiled into her eyes.

  “Thank you.” The words failed to express what he felt but then what words would? He tucked the harebell flower into his hatband.

  The smile she gave him washed away a dark stain in his heart. He didn’t even bother to think what he meant by that observation. Her unusual way of saying things must be catching.

  He must bring things back to the reality of his life, but her look went on and on, seeming to challenge him. And then something shifted. Whether in her or in him, he couldn’t say, but the air between them shimmered like a summer mirage and yet he felt he could see into the distance more clearly than ever.

  “Levi.” Her voice was so low he had to bend forward to hear her. She kept her head down as she talked. “You are a sweet man who deserves to love and be loved.”

  Her words melted his hard heart. “That’s what Maisie says,” he blurted out.

  “There you go. How can you argue with her? She’s wise and caring and sees a lot.”

  “Yeah, but she’s my ma. She’s expected to say those things.” Why was he pushing for more? And what did more look like?

  “I’m not your ma.” She faced him, her look driving deep into his soul. “We always have choices as to whether or not we are going to dwell in the past or put our hope in the future. Maybe love is a risk that’s worth taking.”

  He wanted to believe the future could hold all the things he secretly longed for—belonging, acceptance, love and family. But was he willing to pin his hopes on those fragile things? “Sometimes our choice is to accept our lot with grace and dignity.”

  Her eyes shifted, no longer meeting his, looking into the distance as if seeing her own choices. He longed to ask what they were. She talked about independence, freedom. Didn’t that void her talk of following after the things her heart longed for? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know and sprang to his feet. “We best get back before Maisie worries.”

  His heart settled back to normal and the locks around it fell into place.

  Chapter Nine

  Beatrice couldn’t believe she’d been talking to Levi of love. He must have loved Helen a lot for her loss to have affected him so profoundly. What pain that man had suffered. Such bitter losses. And yet it hadn’t made him hard. Quite the opposite. He had a gentleness that touched a chord within her. Made her yearn to be the recipient of such fierce, loyal love.

  She would not be so foolish as to expect it. Nor was it what she wanted...though at the moment she couldn’t remember why not.

  They lost no time in hurrying back to the ranch, both in a rush, it seemed. No doubt he was anxious to get away from her and her foolish suggestions. As soon as they reached the house, she dashed inside. Charlie tended the pot of soup simmering on the stove.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to everyone but mostly to herself. “I should have been here.”

  “Nonsense,” Maisie said. “I appreciate your help but I have no wish to take advantage of it. Besides, Charlie and I have had a good visit.”

  Dolly sat at Maisie’s feet, playing with Smokey. Beatrice felt a sting of guilt that she’d left both the child and the meal for others to take care of.

  “Thank you,” she said to Maisie, then grabbed the plates. Levi did not look in her direction, confirming her feelings that she’d ventured into forbidden territory. As she set the table, she continually stole looks at him, wishing he would meet her gaze. And do what? It was time to set her thoughts on her duties and he concentrated on setting the table.

  As they shared the meal, Maisie asked about their walk.

  “I took her to a field of flowers,” Levi said. “She said she could hear the earth sing.” His dark eyes held her gaze. She could not guess what he thought. Did he consider her fool
ish, or did he like the way she described what she saw and felt?

  Her cheeks burned as she remembered the other things she’d said.

  “That’s lovely.” Maisie’s voice grew distant. “I wish Big Sam was here. He’d love to hear how you describe the land he loves. Levi and his brothers love the land, too.” She glanced at Levi. “It’s almost as if she has fallen in love with the ranch.”

  Before Levi could answer, Beatrice pushed to her feet and gathered up the dishes. “I’ll wash these up.” Thankfully no one commented on her sudden desire to start cleaning up after the meal.

  “Levi, would you help me to my bed? I believe I’ll rest a while.”

  Levi sprang to Maisie’s side and assisted her to her room.

  Dolly took her cat outside.

  Charlie wandered outside, too, leaving Beatrice alone with her rambling thoughts. Love the ranch? It would be easy to do so. But there was no place for her here. As soon as Maisie’s leg healed, she’d leave and find a job elsewhere.

  She’d be independent. Just as she wanted to be.

  “Have you?” Levi spoke from behind her.

  She hadn’t heard him return to the kitchen. Her hands stilled but she would not turn around. At the moment she felt too uncertain of her feelings. About the ranch. And about him.

  She hotly denied there existed any confusion about her feelings.

  “Have I what?”

  “Have you fallen in love with the ranch?”

  She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Could not think.

  He waited a moment but she could not answer him, so he strode to the door, closing it quietly behind him. She watched him cross the yard and enter the barn. He came back out carrying his saddle, then caught up his horse, saddled it and rode away without a backward look.

  Her lungs emptied in a whoosh.

  * * *

  The afternoon spread out before her. What was she to do? Maisie napped. Levi obviously did not wish to keep her company. Never mind. She could amuse herself.

  She went outside. “Dolly, do you want to come for a walk with me?”

  Dolly shook her head. “Smokey wants to play in the dirt,” she whispered.

  She would enjoy the woodlands and the river by herself and she started down the trail toward the river. The same one that Levi had accompanied her on her first day here. Hadn’t she been impressed by his self-assurance even then? A strong, kind man.

  The blue of the water flashed before her. The rumbling song of it soothed her. God, I feel so close to You here. She meant on the ranch. Or did she mean in nature? And shouldn’t feeling close to God make her feel less restless? I don’t understand why I feel this way. I don’t even know what it is I feel. You do, though. You know me and my thoughts. Please make them less tangled.

  Reaching the river, she sat on the bank and watched the ducks. The sounds and scents of her surroundings sifted through her, soothing away her confusion. She had come to help Maisie and she would do that without letting thoughts of love, the allure of nature and especially not her silly reaction to Levi divert her from that task.

  Having decided her course of action she tried to relax and enjoy her surroundings. She might have succeeded if her thoughts hadn’t kept returning to the morning scene. And the flowers, she tried to make herself believe. Like the blue harebell she’d given him. She lifted her face to the sky. Why had she done such a thing? Examining her actions now, it seemed almost romantic. She’d only meant to express sorrow over his losses.

  She sank over her knees, feeling very lonely.

  He belonged here, surrounded by people he loved and who loved him in return.

  She didn’t know where she belonged. In fact, she was a lot like Dolly. Yes, her aunt and uncle had given her a home, but she couldn’t stay there forever. Nor did she want to.

  Never mind. She would not feel sorry for herself.

  The thud of an approaching horse jerked her to attention. Who was it? Perhaps the men who were responsible for the mischief around the place. She glanced around, seeing how alone she really was and how far from the house. No one would hear her if she called for help. She bolted to her feet and raced for the trail. But wouldn’t the rider or riders be more likely to see her if she ran? Instead, she drew into the shelter of a tangle of bushes and hunkered down, hoping she was out of sight and praying God would hide her.

  * * *

  Levi tasted the sourness on the back of his tongue and tried to convince himself the cause was knowing the scoundrels had taken advantage of the simple church service and his absence as he entertained Beatrice. It was not, he silently repeated, because Beatrice had not answered his question about what she thought of the ranch.

  Had he really thought she might say she loved it and would gladly spend the rest of her life living in Western Montana? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been clear about how she saw her future. Independence was what mattered to her. He supposed he could understand after the way her father had treated her. Couldn’t the man see the treasure he had? No. Instead, all he cared about was having a son and heir—and having failed at that, a son-in-law and heir.

  He pulled off his hat and smiled at the drooping harebell. Then he planted the hat squarely back on his head and turned his full attention to the trail left by the mischief makers. Though this time the mischief had been a little more serious. They had gone into the cookhouse and tossed the contents of the cupboards on the floor. If Soupy got his hands on them they would regret their actions.

  Levi had been able to follow the trail easily...too easily. They had crossed the yard as if taunting him, then the trail had gone up a hill turning toward the river. He lost it at the water’s edge, knowing they had gone into the river. He kept to the bank, hoping to pick up the trail again when they left the water.

  He must concentrate or he’d miss the signs.

  He stopped and hung over the back of his horse, staring at two footprints. Small. Like a woman’s. The skin on the back of his neck tightened. Only one woman would be here. Beatrice. If the rogues had discovered her alone and unprotected...

  His fists curled.

  If they harmed so much as one hair on her head...

  He didn’t finish the thought. Suffice it to say they’d be very sorry.

  He sat up to study his surroundings. There was something odd about the bushes to his left. They should be dark green. But he caught a glimpse of light. That didn’t make sense. He squinted at the area. Wasn’t that the exact color of the dress Beatrice had been wearing? Not white, but not brown. Sort of in between.

  The tension slid from his shoulders and he grinned. How long would she stay there thinking no one could see her? Maybe he’d just wait and see and he leaned back in his saddle.

  The bushes rustled. She sniffed and then sneezed—a barely there wheezy sound.

  Still she didn’t move. Someone should tell her she couldn’t stay hidden after she’d sneezed.

  He waited.

  She remained in the bushes.

  He waited some more. Yes, he should be trying to track the troublemakers but this was more urgent. More interesting. And a whole lot more fun.

  How long before she’d know her hiding place had been discovered and stepped into the open?

  All his anger at her—or was it at himself for wanting things he knew to be out of his reach?—vanished in amusement at how she stayed hidden, in relief that she was safe, and in something bigger, better and way beyond reach. He allowed himself only a quick acknowledgment of how much he enjoyed her company.

  The bushes rustled. The patch of not-white, not-brown shifted. She peeked out from behind a branch. He could only see one eye and it widened and she poked her whole face out.

  “What are you doing here?” She stepped from the bushes, brushing her hair and her skirts.

  “Wa
iting to see how long you would stay there thinking you were hidden.”

  She favored him with an annoyed look. “But why are you here?” She jabbed her finger toward the ground as she moved toward him.

  He knew what she meant, but rather than answer, he swung his leg over the horse and dropped to the ground, watching her approach. His grin pulled up the corners of his heart.

  She stopped two feet from him, her eyes narrowed. “You’re really enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” Her voice contained just enough sharpness for him to know she found his enjoyment annoying.

  He nodded, not one bit repentant.

  “Did you follow me?”

  He shook his head.

  “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here or do I have to guess?”

  “Guess.”

  She studied him long and hard but he didn’t mind one bit.

  “You came for a swim?”

  “Nope.”

  “You’re going fishing.”

  “No fishing pole.”

  She rolled her eyes upward. “Do I have to do this until the sun sets?”

  He relented marginally. “I was practicing my tracking skills.” Remembering the troublemakers, he lost all sense of amusement and glanced around. Perhaps even now they were watching, waiting. His skin crawled at the thought of being spied on.

  “Those culprits?”

  “There were up to mischief while we had Sunday service and afterward.” No need to mention the time he’d spent studying flowers with her, especially when he fully intended to forget the whole episode. Especially the flower tucked in his hat. He crossed his arms to keep from reaching up to see if it was still there.

  “What did they do?”

  “They tossed the contents of Soupy’s kitchen to the floor. I would hate to be in their boots if Soupy ever gets ahold of them.”

  “Did they take anything?”

  “Not that I could tell. Just made a mess.”

  Somehow they had fallen in side by side with the horse following and started up the trail toward the house.