Linda Ford - [Three Brides, Three Cowboys 02]

by The Cowboy Father

  “Your father took care of us very well,” she told the girls privately. “We aren’t charity cases for your uncle.”

  Mother would never allow any of them to ask him for anything.

  Louisa left Adele a few minutes later and drove home. She dreaded facing her mother. She’d likely demand a full description of the morning. If only she could tiptoe inside and find sanctuary in her room. But as she stopped before the door, she heard Mouse barking a frenzied greeting. Everyone in the house would know Louisa had returned.

  The door opened and Sally waved at her. “The coast is clear. Mother has gone to visit Mrs. Roberts. She’ll be gone all day. I think Mrs. Roberts is about to have her baby.”

  They shook their heads. “Poor Clara,” Louisa murmured. Sally’s friend was the eldest of six, now about to be seven, and carried a full load of responsibility—but secretly Louisa envied the girl all those little ones to care for.

  Sally laughed. “Clara considers it a blessing. She can hardly wait for this baby. She said it had been too long.” Clara’s youngest brother was six, almost seven. “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving. What are we eating? Or did you eat already?”

  “Soup and sandwiches, and I’ve been waiting for you.” They sat at the table and bowed their heads.

  “It’s your turn,” Sally murmured, so Louisa said grace.

  She’d barely said “amen” before Sally leaned forward like a coconspirator. “Did you have fun this morning?”

  The pain she’d been holding back all morning burst from its restraints and ran wild, spreading through her body like a raging prairie fire. “Oh, Sally, it’s so hard. I gave her the dollhouse I made. I make up little games for her. I stand and watch how much Emmet loves his daughter, and I try to be grateful for what I have. But inside I die a little every day, knowing I can never have a part in it.”

  Sally sat back, her lunch forgotten. “I didn’t realize it was so hard. Maybe you should quit.”

  “No. I intend to prove I can do this. I’m tired of being weak and fragile.” She ignored Sally’s mocking laugh. “I am holding on to the promise of that paycheck at the end of the two months. I’ll give it to Mother to pay the bills and feel like I’ve done something useful for the first time in my life.”

  “Oh, Louie. You have contributed so much to our family. How can you think you have to prove anything?”

  “I have contributed nothing but anxiety and medical bills.”

  Sally reached across the table and took Louisa’s hands. “Oh, my dear, dear sister. No one cares about that. What we care about is your sweetness, which hasn’t been affected by illness. We appreciate how patient you are no matter what you must endure. Do you know how many times I fell asleep listening to you sing? Or play the piano? I always knew things weren’t all that bad so long as you could sing. That’s worth more than anything money can buy.”

  Sing anyway. Sometimes it was hard, but knowing it encouraged others, Louisa renewed her vow to do so.

  “Sally, you are far too generous, but I thank you. Now eat your soup before it gets cold.”

  They ate in companionable silence for a few moments, then Sally put her spoon down and stared at Louisa. “You gave your dollhouse away? I can’t believe it.”

  Louisa shrugged. “I thought of keeping it to give to a niece, but I can always make another if you or Madge have a little girl. Ellie has no mother, so I thought it appropriate.”

  Sally looked as if she meant to say something, then changed her mind. Had she been about to point out that Louisa couldn’t have children and Ellie needed a mother? If that was her intention she had, thankfully, thought better of it. If Emmet married again, he would want more children. He was very clear on that matter.

  They had almost finished when Sally jerked her head up. Louisa smiled, knowing she was about to hear one of Sally’s sudden brainstorms.

  “I know what will cheer you up. Let’s go to the orphanage. We can play with the babies when they wake up. And when the older kids come home from school, we can do things with them. You know, like play games, read and sing to them, help them with homework. Let’s go.”

  Louisa wanted to say no. She wanted to retreat to her bedroom, wrap her arms around little Mouse and wallow in her sorrow. But there was no value in that. She would be cheerful despite her sadness. And making the children laugh would surely ease her own misery.

  The afternoon passed quickly and pleasantly with the children and staff at the orphanage. By the time they returned home it was past supper time, but Mother was still away so the girls scrambled eggs and had them on toast for their meal.

  They finished and sat back, relaying stories of the children when a knock sounded on the door.

  Mouse leaped from Louisa’s lap in a frenzy of barking.

  Louisa laughed. “Some guard dog you are. We already know someone is there. Silly dog.” She and Sally exchanged looks full of curiosity. Who could it be? Did it signal bad news? Perhaps Mrs. Roberts—she wouldn’t consider all the things that could go wrong. “I’ll get it.” She crossed to the door, took in a deep breath before opening it. “Emmet? Is something wrong?” She cupped her hand to her throat in alarm. “Ellie? Auntie May?”

  He reached for her, caught her elbow. “Everything is fine.”

  Relief made her legs wobbly. She welcomed his steadying touch. Almost immediately, a new kind of weakness claimed her heart and body as his touch reached into her inner being, uncovering wants she thought she had successfully buried, and laying claim to them.

  “I thought I’d come here to do lesson preparation. Save you the trip to town.”

  She needed to step away from his touch. She needed to answer the man. She needed to bury her feelings. But she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak and, heaven help her, couldn’t find the will to deny the longing in her heart…longing for love, home, family. A groan escaped her heart and pressed against her teeth as she fought against disappointment.

  “I’m sorry.” Emmet gripped her elbow more firmly. “Is my being here a problem?”

  Sally had moved to the doorway. “You surprised her, I think. Come on in.”

  Emmet dropped his hand to his side and waited.

  Feeling as if she had been set adrift in a vast ocean with no horizon in sight, Louisa blindly followed her sister, Emmet at her heels.

  “We just finished supper.” Sally scooped up the dirty dishes, carried them to the basin then wiped the table clean. “There you go. You can go over lessons here.”

  Emmet hovered behind a chair.

  Louisa realized he waited for her to sit, or show any degree of civility. “Have a chair while I get my satchel.” She scurried from the room, didn’t slow her steps until she reached her room. She sank to her bed. Oh, Lord God, I am trying to trust You but sometimes it is so hard. Impossible. With men this is impossible; but with God all things are possible. Matthew nineteen, verse twenty-six. A verse Father had taught her, had repeated to her when she struggled to breathe through the worst of her pneumonia. She’d clung to the comfort of that assurance. Thank You, Lord. I will trust You. She rose from her bed, squared her shoulders, grabbed the satchel from the chair where she had tossed it and marched down the stairs to face Emmet. She faltered at the last step. Gird yourself in God’s strength, she reminded herself briskly and lifted her chin a little higher as she entered the kitchen, where Emmet watched her, a worried look in his eyes. He’d guessed something upset her. She vowed he would never know what or why.

  “I have the materials here.” She sat across from him and pulled out the lessons. “Adele suggests we go as quickly with arithmetic as Ellie can handle. Success in this area will help her tackle the more challenging subject of reading.” There were several sheets of equations then some problems, which would require Ellie to apply her knowledge of addition.

  None of this required more than a few minutes. They could easily discuss everything before they began in the morning. So why did he insist on this preparation time? Why did he c
ome out to the farm?

  She answered the question herself. No doubt he was lonely.

  I suppose the least we can do is make his visit more enjoyable. Surely that was their Christian duty. Grateful for the excuse, she relaxed.

  “Would you like tea?” she asked.

  “I don’t want to be a nuisance, but I have to confess I get bored in town. Would you mind—” He ducked his head without finishing.

  Louisa and Sally exchanged glances. Sally tilted her head toward Emmet, signaling that Louisa should help him.

  “Please feel free to ask anything.”

  He raised his head, gave her a piercing look, and she smiled, knowing her assurance eased his tension. “Very well. I miss the ranch. I thought if you showed me the barn and we could walk around a field… Well, I would enjoy it immensely.”

  “Very well.” Louisa refused to look at Sally, knew she’d see a gleam of encouragement. But Louisa’s wayward heart needed no encouragement. It needed a good stiff dose of reality. However, she didn’t mind showing him around the farm. Even if most of it belonged to another now. He deserved kindness and friendship. That was why she would do it. No other reason.

  She only wished her heart would obey her mind. Instead it sang a secret song of something beyond friendship. And beyond possibility.

  “We can have tea when you get back.” Sally tried to sound matter-of-fact, but Louisa heard the little note of happiness that her sister was stepping out.

  “Shall we go?” Louisa headed for the door, paused to murmur for Sally’s ears only. “It’s only a tour of the farm. Nothing more. Remember, it can be nothing more.”

  Sally shrugged, totally unrepentant.

  Emmet waited on the step and Louisa joined him.

  “What would you like to see?”

  “Everything. Do you still farm any land?”

  “We kept only enough for a bit of pasture. We keep a milk cow and calf.”

  “What about winter feed?”

  “We buy it. Or more likely, trade for it. Judd helped us find feed last winter.” Such mundane conversation, but she welcomed it. A safe topic.

  They went to the garden. The only thing visible was rhubarb. “There should be tiny plants poking through soon. We water it faithfully. Once they’re up we’ll have to fight off the hordes of grasshoppers.” The insects were already beginning to hatch. Soon there would be thousands of them, eating anything that survived the winds and drought.

  She led him to the barn. “Father had dreams of several cows and horses here.”

  Mice rustled across the floor overhead.

  Emmet breathed deeply. “I love the smell of hay.”

  Curious about his life, she faced him. “Tell me about your ranch.” It was only natural to want to know a little more about him. After all, she taught his little girl and spent several hours a day with him. Only she didn’t want to know because of Ellie. She wanted to know Emmet. And no amount of reasoning and mental argument erased that truth. She wanted to know what he liked first thing in the morning, what his favorite time of day was, what tiny things gave him pleasure… She must stop this foolish meandering of her thoughts.

  “My house is on a little hill. A creek flows by on the west side. In the spring the creek is full and noisy. Later in the summer it is slow and quiet. When I need to think, I have a place by the creek in a little grove of trees where I sit and watch the water. Deer often come to water at the creek.”

  “It sounds wonderful.” She couldn’t remember moving to the empty manger and perching on its edge, Emmet beside her, but that’s where they were.

  “It’s nice all right.”

  “Tell me about your house.”

  He slanted her a teasing look. “I don’t think you’d be impressed with it right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “A widower and seven-year-old don’t make good housekeepers.” His eyes were so blue she thought the sky must be reflected in them. “What it really needs is a woman’s touch.”

  “And more children running through the rooms?”

  “That would be nice.”

  She pushed to her feet. “Let’s look at the fields. Mr. Emerson planted the closest one last week, but we need rain to make it germinate.”

  He followed her. “The original house was log. But it was small so I added on—frame structure. It turned out rather nice, I think. The original is the kitchen and living room with a loft above. The addition is four bedrooms and a storeroom.”

  They reached the field, and Louisa scooped up a handful of dirt. It was so dry it sifted through her fingers. She shook her hand. “We need rain.” She didn’t want to hear about the four bedrooms that longed to be filled with children. She didn’t want to hear about the house on the hill, the creek and the private spot in the trees.

  But Emmet continued on as if she’d asked him to describe every detail.

  And despite her denial, she wanted him to.

  “Like I say, the house has been neglected since—well, since Jane died.”

  Tell me more, her heart begged. Talk about something else, her brain insisted. “What did you do with your animals when you left?”

  “In the summer they graze the high pastures. They need little supervision, but I asked a neighbor to check on them. I’ll have to bring them down to home pasture before the snow comes.”

  He’d have to leave by fall. That would be a relief to her mental wrangling. Only, she counted off the months with a sick feeling. It was mid-May. When would he head back? September? Earlier if Ellie was ready to travel? It took all her inner strength to push her regret into submission and turn the conversation to something else.

  “I visited the orphanage this afternoon. And it gave me an idea. There’s one little girl there who is a little younger than Ellie and seems pleasant. I thought if you asked her to visit, it would provide Ellie with some company her own age.”

  Emmet faced her, surprise in his blue eyes. “I think that’s a great idea, especially if you think this child is appropriate.”

  “Appropriate?” When did children have to pass inspection?

  “I’m sure you realize I wouldn’t want Ellie associating with a child who, for instance, had a foul mouth.”

  She chuckled at his expression. “You look ready to fight off any danger she might encounter.”

  “I am. If I’d been more vigilant, she wouldn’t be where she is now.”

  “Emmet, accidents happen and sometimes illnesses. We do our best and leave the rest in God’s hands.”

  “I try.” He seemed to struggle with his conflicting need to be in control and desire to trust God. “By all means, invite this child to visit if you think it’s appropriate.”

  She wanted to say something to ease his mind. Perhaps offer comfort, but she dare not let herself say all that was in her heart—a longing to stand at his side through accidents and trials, an ache to put a woman’s touch to his neglected home.

  Instead she steeled herself to speak calmly, as if nothing mattered but inviting a child to play. “I’ll see to the arrangements.”

  Helping Ellie was the best she could do to satisfy her desire to help him.

  Chapter Nine

  Emmet left after he shared tea and cookies with Louisa and Sally. He walked back to town. He could have driven his truck, but he preferred to walk the three miles. It gave him time to think.

  Trouble was, his thoughts made no sense. Why had he come out here? Lesson preparation wasn’t the answer. Why had he told her all about the ranch? How the house sat on a hill? As he told about the rooms he’d added to the house, he imagined her in the house, filling it with love and laughter, faith and—dare he admit it? Yes, children. After Jane’s death, or maybe even before it, he had vowed he would no longer dream such dreams. Jane had given him only one child, and although he loved Ellie, it was a disappointment. He longed for a large family. In part, he wanted to fill the hollowness in his heart he’d known since his parents died so suddenly.

  Not a hi
nt. Not a moment of warning. Here one minute, gone the next.

  He had been alone. So alone.

  The feeling had never quite left him. Not when Auntie May gave him a home—a perfectly acceptable home. He had no doubt Auntie May loved him. His marriage had not robbed him of the feeling. Not that it was Jane’s fault. She loved him decently enough. Having Ellie was the closest he’d come to satisfying the emptiness within himself. It was the best he could expect.

  But in his mind he saw Louisa at the stove in the ranch house. Saw her bending over a child’s bed. Saw her standing on the veranda, watching for him to return for supper.

  He kicked a lump of dirt that poofed into a cloud of dust. All she’d done was help with Ellie’s lessons. Yes, she was good with Ellie, but she’d given no indication that her interest in either of them went beyond her job as a tutor. And he would do well to keep that in mind. For the time being, this was best for Ellie. He would do nothing to change that. And when they left again, just the two of them, he would continue to do what was best for her.

  And safest for him, a faint voice insisted.

  Yes, what was best for him was keeping his heart’s desires under lock and key. He’d already learned his dreams were empty. Led only to more hurt—watching Jane die and having to bury her was the second-hardest thing he’d ever faced.

  Somehow he managed to guard his heart throughout the lessons of the next day, and then two days later, Louisa brought Leila to visit. He’d asked her to be present.

  “After all, we’re strangers to her. She’ll feel better if you stay.”

  So Louisa had agreed. He couldn’t tell if she welcomed the idea or not.

  Leila edged forward when she saw Ellie. “You broke your leg?”

  “Fell out of a tree.”

  Leila’s blue eyes were wide with disbelief. “Your mommy let you climb trees?”