by Linda Ford
Dawson reached around her and pushed open the door. “Please, everyone, come inside.” He waited for the others to precede him, Mattie leading the way. They entered a cloakroom with a low bench along three walls. Under the bench were several pairs of well-worn cowboy boots with toes tipped upward. Above the benches, hooks held coats and hats and odd bits of leather strapping and goodness knew what else. She longed to ask the use of everything she saw.
“So this is what a ranch house looks like.” She hadn’t meant to say the words aloud and hoped they indicated her fascination.
But Dawson had already stepped through one of the two doors leading from the cloakroom and indicated they should follow.
Grandfather Marshall hobbled toward them with the aid of his canes.
“Welcome to the Marshall Five Ranch. Come right in.”
They were in a large dining room. Leather-clad window seats circled the room beneath wide windows that allowed a generous view of the outside scene. A large table, covered with a white lace tablecloth and set for the meal, stood in the middle of the room. A wide archway opened to the sitting room and another, narrower door revealed a kitchen from which came the delicious aroma of a meal.
“Annie,” Grandfather Marshall called. “Our guests are here.”
A woman scurried into the room. A very young lady. This was Aunt Annie? She couldn’t be more than eighteen or nineteen. Somehow Isabelle had expected a much older woman, wrongly assuming she was the eldest Marshall sibling. Dawson introduced his sister and the likeness was unmistakable—she was probably as tall as Isabelle herself, blonde with striking blue eyes.
A much smaller young woman waited in the doorway.
Isabelle couldn’t help but stare at the second woman, who was in trousers and a shirt, her blond hair in a long braid down her back. She’d never seen a woman dressed in such a fashion and barely managed not to gasp. This was the West, she reminded herself. The Wild West, obviously.
Dawson introduced her. “Carly Morrison, Annie’s friend and fellow troublemaker.”
Isabelle wasn’t sure he teased or was serious but both Carly and Annie laughed.
“We aren’t troublemakers,” Annie insisted.
Dawson’s eyebrows reached for his hairline.
Carly grinned at Annie. “We just like to have fun.”
Isabelle immediately liked the two girls. She and Kate used to have fun together until Dr. Baker’s accident. She missed those times.
Annie took their coats, then indicated where they should sit.
“Can I sit by Miss Isabelle?” Mattie asked.
“I think you should stay beside me.” Dawson guided her around the table to the chair beside him.
Isabelle refused to look at him or try to guess if he meant to keep his daughter away from her—he had no reason to think she would harm his child—or if he simply preferred to have Mattie beside him, where he could guide her manners. She looked at Mattie, though. “I can see you better this way.”
Mattie favored her with a beaming smile. “I like that.”
Sadie didn’t immediately take her seat. “I can help with the meal.”
“As can I,” Kate added.
Isabelle was already seated. In her world, the cook served the food, but this wasn’t her world and she needed to remember it. She pushed to her feet. “I’ll help, as well.”
Annie waved their offers aside. “We have it under control. Sit and relax. I know you’ve had a long, tiring day.” She gave Carly a mischievous glance. “All we did was hang around the house cooking supper.”
The elder Marshall chuckled as the girls returned to the kitchen. “After you get to know this pair you’ll realize the unlikelihood of that story.”
The girls in question carried in platters and bowls full of food and then sat down.
Grandfather Marshall signaled for attention. “I’ll ask the blessing.” In reverent, deep tones, he thanked God for all the blessings He’d bestowed. “Good food and new friends. Thank You. Amen.”
There followed a flurry of passing bowls and platters from hand to hand—roast meat, turnips, creamy mashed potatoes, rich brown gravy and beets in a sweet-and-sour sauce. The food tickled every taste bud in her mouth. “Excellent fare. Annie, you are a good cook. If you ever want a job as such, I will gladly give my recommendation.”
Conversation ground to a halt. Had she committed a faux pas? She glanced across to Dawson. He scowled.
She quirked her eyebrows questioningly but he offered no explanation and she slowly faced Annie.
Annie held her fork suspended above her plate. “I have a job here as cook, dishwasher, laundry lady to my brothers, my father and grandfather, plus caring for Mattie.”
Isabelle sensed Dawson’s silent disapproval but figured she might as well continue what she’d started. “It seems like a lot of work. Does Carly help you?”
Carly chuckled. “I live with my father and take care of him.”
“And ride like a man,” Annie added.
Carly shrugged. “One must do what one must do.” She turned back to Isabelle. “Sometimes Annie needs help to keep this lot of men in line. That’s where I come in.”
Dawson snorted.
Grandfather Marshall grinned. “I do believe her father sends her over here in the hopes we’ll teach her to be a lady.”
Carly choked. “Don’t ever give him such an idea.” She shuddered visibly.
Isabelle couldn’t tell if it was real or make-believe, but it brought laughter from those around the table and she allowed herself to relax. She might put her foot into things once in a while, but not out of malice. Only because she didn’t quite know how to fit in with these people.
As if sensing her uneasiness, Kate squeezed her hand under the table. “It’s a little hard to understand where everyone belongs in the picture, what with meeting so many people today.”
“I expect that’s true,” Grandfather Marshall said. “But you’ll soon have it figured out.”
“I got it all figgered out already,” Mattie said. “You—” she nodded toward Sadie “—are Miss Young, the teacher.”
Sadie nodded. “That’s right and I intend to start classes as soon as possible. All I need is a few tables and chairs and some books.”
Mattie waited until Sadie finished then turned to the man at her father’s other side. “And you are the new doctor.”
Dr. Baker smiled. “I hope you aren’t sick.”
Mattie giggled. “Nope.” She moved on to Kate. “You’re the nurse. You help your father.”
Kate tipped her head in acknowledgment. “That’s correct.”
“And you.” She gave Isabelle wide-eyed study. “You…” She looked puzzled. “You’re pretty and you’re nice,” she blurted out.
Isabelle’s hands dropped to her lap and she stared at Mattie. Her throat closed off. She feared tears would burst free if she so much as opened her mouth. Was that all she was? Pretty but useless.
*
Dawson sat back as Annie and Carly removed the plates and serving dishes and brought out generous slices of chocolate cake. “Among the many things Annie does well is bake a chocolate cake that exceeds any I’ve ever tasted.” Why did he look at Isabelle as he said those words? Why did he feel like he must defend their way of life?
“Thank you, big brother. Mama taught me how to bake.”
He continued to watch Isabelle as she tasted a mouthful of the cake. Her eyes widened and she met Dawson’s gaze. “This is very good. Indeed, as you say, the best I’ve ever tasted.”
He released a gust of air as she shifted her attention to Annie to compliment her on her baking. He immediately informed himself that he wasn’t hoping for some sign of appreciation of ranch life. He jammed an invisible fist into his thoughts.
“Annie, would it be possible for you to teach me how to make this cake…?” Isabelle paused. “Or is the recipe a family secret?”
Annie laughed. “I’ll be happy to show you how to make it so long as you prom
ise to keep the recipe to yourself.”
Dawson had never before realized how much she sounded like their mother.
Isabelle held up her hand in a solemn salute. “I promise.” She and Annie smiled at each other. A shiver raced across Dawson’s shoulders. Bad enough Grandfather had decided Isabelle was like Grandmother. Even worse that Mattie was awestruck, but if Annie took a liking to her, he would have his hands full fending off their interest.
They finished the meal with tea and the ladies moved to the kitchen, Mattie trailing behind them. Dawson, his grandfather and the doctor, who asked the men to call him John, retired to the sitting room. John leaned his head back and soon snored. Poor man had had a long day. Seeing their guest slept, Grandfather opened his current book and began to read. Dawson tried to do the same but his attention kept drifting to the sounds of talk and laughter from the kitchen. And why he should notice Isabelle’s voice more keenly than the others didn’t make sense. It wasn’t as if she talked loudly. Or that he wanted to be aware of her.
“Papa?”
He jerked his head up at his daughter’s voice. She stood in the doorway, holding Isabelle’s hand.
His insides crackled.
“Papa, Miss Isabelle said she would put me to bed.” Mattie left Isabelle’s side to kiss her father’s cheek. “Good night.”
He held the child close. He could not let Isabelle do this. But how could he stop her without hurting Mattie? “I’ll take you upstairs.”
Mattie stiffened. “But, Papa, I asked her to. That’s okay, isn’t it?”
He could hear the tears building in her shaky voice.
“Allow the child this little pleasure,” Grandfather said. “What harm can it do?”
Dawson could have reminded Grandfather of the sorrow Mattie had suffered when Violet left. But one look at his grandfather and he knew he would not win this one without making a scene. So he kissed Mattie on the cheek and slowly released her. “Good night, little one.”
Mattie went to Grandfather for a hug and a kiss, then returned to Isabelle’s side, took her hand and led her upstairs to the bedrooms.
Dawson followed with his eyes and listened until the bedroom door squeaked. Still he looked upward wishing he could intervene.
“She’s a beautiful woman,” Grandfather said.
“So you’ve said repeatedly.”
“Seems Mattie is taken with her.”
“I don’t think that’s a good thing.”
Grandfather considered Dawson so long Dawson struggled not to squirm. Just when Dawson thought he might have to jerk to his feet to get away from the old man’s study, Grandfather spoke. “Son, you can’t use the same ruler to measure every woman.”
“I have no idea what you mean.” He could only hope his cold tone would discourage the older man.
Grandfather made a dismissive noise. “I know you well enough to know when you look at Isabelle, you see Violet. Or at least tell yourself you should.”
“Grandfather, I have no opinion on her. I just met her. Time alone will determine what sort of woman she is.”
“Time doesn’t stand a chance against your preconceived ideas.”
He would not respond. If he had preconceived ideas it was with good cause. He didn’t take in a satisfactory breath until Isabelle descended the stairs and returned to the kitchen. Surely that would put an end to this ridiculous conversation.
“Like I said, Mattie needs a mother.” Grandfather’s words fell into the silence like an explosion.
Dawson jerked to his feet. “If I marry again, it will be an ordinary ranch woman. I don’t intend to repeat a very bad mistake.”
He didn’t slow his steps until he reached the kitchen.
The women huddled together around the table and laughed about something.
He recognized the gleam in Annie’s eyes. She was up to something. She and Carly often did things their fathers and brothers disapproved of. They’d even been known to visit Wolf Hollow, the rough mining town up the creek, until Pa had put a stop to it.
He shifted his gaze to Carly. Yes, they were up to something. His attention moved onward to Isabelle. The same spark of mischief filled her eyes. He’d seen that look before. In Violet’s eyes as she outlined some adventure meant to relieve the boredom of her role of wife and mother. Despite what Grandfather said, there was something frighteningly like Violet in Isabelle.
“I need to take our guests home.” He heard the sharp tone of his voice but hoped no one else would notice.
Annie rose. “I’ll get the coats.”
Kate headed for the sitting room. “I’ll inform my father.”
Carly stretched. “I best get home, too, before Father starts to worry.” She slid her chair back but made no other move toward leaving.
Annie returned and Dawson waited for them all to don their outerwear, then led the guests out to the buggy and helped them aboard. He told himself it made no difference whether he helped Sadie, Kate or Isabelle. It was only common courtesy. But he had to stifle his reaction when Isabelle’s hand rested in his.
Annoyance at Grandfather’s suggestion he should be interested in this woman intermingled with the bitter memory of the years he’d spent married to Violet. In hindsight he realized he should never have married her. He hadn’t known her long enough. He’d been flattered by her attention and mesmerized by her beauty and self-assurance. He’d been thrilled when she agreed to marry him. Too late he’d realized she saw him as another adventure.
Sadie kept up what little conversation there was during the trip home, talking about her plans to set up a temporary schoolroom. The others settled back, weary from their long day.
Dusk wrapped about the town as he reached Bella Creek. The air grew colder. He let Sadie out at the hotel and escorted her inside, waiting until she reached her door before he returned to the buggy. A few yards farther, he pulled up in front of the doctor’s house. A figure stepped from the shadows.
“Doc?”
“What can I do for you?” Dr. Baker climbed down and went to the man.
“Got a bad hand.”
“Come along.”
Kate didn’t wait for Dawson to help her down but hurried after her father. Soon a lamp glowed inside the examining room.
Isabelle took his hand as she stepped to the ground. She stared at the unlit living quarters and shivered. “It’s dark.”
He fought a brief mental war between his desire to keep his distance from this woman and the dictates of gentlemanly manners. The latter won out. “I’ll go ahead and light a lamp.”
Entering the house, he groped toward the kitchen, where he’d earlier noticed a lamp on the table. He lit it then went to the stove, stirred up the embers and added some wood.
“Thank you. I will handle it in the future.”
He hadn’t heard her step into the room and jerked about to face her. In the glow from the lamp, her features were golden, her smile gentle. She removed her hat and set it on the table. The light touched her hair, filling the dark strands with a fiery glow.
Why was he staring? He shook himself and bolted for the door. Forced himself to stop and face her. Now he could say all the things he hadn’t been able to with Grandfather listening and dreaming an old man’s dream on Dawson’s behalf. “Miss Redfield, I must warn you not to encourage my daughter’s fascination with you.” He rushed on, ignoring the shock in her eyes. “She’s young and vulnerable. I don’t want to see her hurt.”
Isabelle’s eyes snapped. “You’re suggesting I mean to hurt her?”
“Not on purpose but—” How did he say all he felt in a word or two? “She belongs here in the West, on a ranch.”
“And I don’t? And may I ask how you’ve come to that conclusion?”
His gaze lingered on the fur collar of her coat, then went down to the fine leather boots, also with fur lining.
She nodded, her expression icy. “I see.”
“I doubt you do. But you’re city and we’re country.” Before he cou
ld say more, he turned on his heel and strode away.
Chapter Three
Isabelle tossed and turned half the night. She was city. Perhaps that was a step up from being an heiress but ultimately it left her struggling with the same sense of frustration and rejection.
In the morning, Kate confronted her. “You seemed restless last night. What’s bothering you?”
She told her friend what Dawson had said. “Even without knowing of my inheritance, he sees me as useless…worse, as a threat to his child’s happiness.”
Kate sat beside her on the bed. “We both know that isn’t true.”
Isabelle turned her palms upward in a sign of helplessness. “I am useless.”
Kate hugged her. “I think you can do anything you set your mind to and you know it.”
Slowly, Isabelle let the truth of Kate’s words settle into her thoughts. She didn’t have quite as much faith in her abilities as did Kate but neither was she prepared to let Dawson’s opinion deter her.
“I want to help you. I thought I could take care of the house while you assist your father.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
Her resolve firmly in place, Isabelle went to the kitchen to prove her usefulness. But it was easier said than done. She had no idea how to prepare breakfast. Their pantry had been stocked while they were out at the Marshall Ranch. Only because of those generous gifts did Kate and the doctor have a satisfying meal.
“I need help.” She didn’t mind confessing her inability to Kate.
“Let’s pray about it.” Kate took her hand. They bowed their heads and took turns praying aloud. When Isabelle first learned this practice of spontaneous prayers from Kate, she’d been surprised but soon embraced the idea. Kate called it “letting go of things and letting God take care of them.”
The door to the doctor’s waiting room opened and closed, and Kate and her father left to see to the caller.
Isabelle went to her trunk and removed her Bible. She’d been raised to attend church and say her prayers. Her mother had taught her to trust God, but not until she met Kate four years ago at a church event did Isabelle’s faith begin to grow. Over the years, with Kate’s patient teaching, she’d grown to see that God wanted to be part of every day, every action. Her Bible fell open to a passage she frequently read. Whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus. She closed her eyes as the familiar lonesome ache sucked at her insides. God, I feel so useless. What can I do to Your honor and glory? Show me. Oh, please, show me where I fit.
