The Cowboy's Cinderella. Carol Arens

pretty, even though it’s faded...and I’m sorry,” he said. When she looked puzzled he added, “About you losing your mother.”

      “I’ve been told I cried for a week solid, but I was only two years old and don’t recall the event anymore.”

      “What about you father?”

      “I never did recall him.” Thunder rolled overhead. “So this Eleanor, she’s going to inherit the whole ranch?”

      “If I can find her.”

      “What happens if you can’t?”

      He groaned out loud. He didn’t really want to talk about it, he’d prefer to just lie here in the straw and forget for a moment.

      “The ranch will fail without her.” Wind whistled around the lower deck blowing in a hail of raindrops, but they didn’t reach inside the stall. “There’s a big mortgage note coming due. If we can’t pay it a lot of folks will lose their livelihoods, their homes. People who have lived on the Lucky Clover their whole lives will be put out.”

      “I can’t imagine losing my home here on River Queen.” She sat up, frowning and glancing about. “Some say the trains will be the end of the river trade, but I think folks will always want to gamble on a steamer.”

      “I hope that’s true, Ivy.”

      “And I hope you find your heir.”

      All of a sudden, he wanted to reach up and touch her cheek. In spite of her boyish clothing, her skin was fair, pink cheeked with a light smattering of freckles across her nose.

      He laced his fingers together behind his head.

      “Even if I find her I’ve got to convince her to do something I reckon she won’t want to.”

      “She might...if she gets a sister and a fine ranch for the trouble.”

      “She’ll have to marry our rich neighbor. It’s the only way to get the ranch out of the debt it’s fallen into.”

      “Gosh almighty!” Ivy clasped her hand to her throat. “What are you going to do when she says no?”

      “You think she will? I’m offering a lot in exchange.”

      “I think it depends upon her life. Maybe she’ll be willing if she’s a lonely spinster...but I don’t see that she’s old enough to give in to that yet. And what if she’s married already with a pack of young’uns...but I wonder if she might be a widow...in that case you have some hope.”

      “I do know that she is not married. The Pinkerton I hired didn’t know much, but he knew that, and that she is supposed to be living on this boat.”

      “Could be he meant the River Belle. She sails the Missouri.” Ivy’s hat began to tilt even though she hadn’t touched it. “Good news if that’s so. We’re putting into dock beside her tomorrow night at Bridgerton Landing. Big gambling day for both boats with rich folks coming from all over.”

      Something...a mouse, tumbled from Ivy’s hat! He swatted at the dirty vermin, anxious to keep it off Ivy.

      She laughed, reached out and caught the creature in the palm of her hand.

      She nuzzled its white head with her nose.

      “Don’t tell me you’re skittish over a little old mouse?”

      “Repelled more than—”

      All of a sudden Ivy placed the mouse in his hand.

      “Little Mouse is a sweet thing once you get to know her.”

      The “sweet thing” nipped his thumb.

      “See? She likes you?”

      “Where’d it come from?”

      Ivy took the hat from her head, pointed to a pocket attached to the brim.

      “She lives here in my hat when we’re out. She’s got her own little cage in my room.” The mouse leapt from his hand and onto Ivy’s shirt. It scrambled up to sit on her shoulder. “You will keep my secret, won’t you? There’d be the dickens to pay if anyone but Tom knew about her.”

      “It can’t be healthy, wearing a rodent on your head.”

      “Well, she’s white, and not vermin. Little Mouse is as clean as you or me. And she’s tidy of habit...goes off to do her business.”

      “Ivy, that’s—”

      “None of your business, Travis.” Her eyes narrowed at him, daring him, he thought, to believe otherwise.

      “Not my business to tell, is what I was about to say. But I still don’t think mice ought to live in ladies’ hats.”

      All of a sudden she started to laugh, deep from her belly.

      “Can’t you picture that?” she sputtered, trying but not able to control her giggles. “All the screaming and swatting...the fainting?”

      He did see it, smiled, then burst out laughing along with her. He sat up, bent over at the middle. All of a sudden his worry felt twenty pounds lighter.

      When the humor began to even out, she swatted his knee.

      “It’s a lucky thing I’m no lady. I’d sooner fall in the river and never come up than be like one of those poor females.”

      He’d always been partial to the sweet gender, enjoyed their delicate, flirtatious ways.

      But he’d never forget Ivy. She was not the water nymph he’d fantasized over...she was so much more.

      * * *

      Morning dawned bright as a new penny. Climbing the outdoor stairs to the pilothouse Ivy breathed deep, savoring the fresh scent of river and pine.

      This was going to be a good day filled with the wonder of learning the river, then come nightfall the excitement of games of chance.

      “Howdy-do, Uncle Patrick!” She crossed the small space to give her uncle a hug around the middle. “Did we turn a profit last night?”

      “Not much, my money-minded little love, but tonight we should earn enough to keep you happy.”

      “I’m only money minded so that we can keep the boat going. You know I don’t give a fig about the fancy things to be had with it.”

      “Maybe you ought to.” Uncle Patrick’s bushy white eyebrows nearly touched when he frowned down at her. “How are you ever going to get a husband dressed like a boy?”

      “Why would I want one of those?” Her uncle meant well, but his aim for her life was a mite different than her own. “I’m happy as a mudsucker here with you.”

      “A woman needs a home and family.”

      “Not this woman.” She placed her hands on the wheel. It was so large it extended below deck. She felt a thrum pulsing through the wood. The power of the engine, the pull of the boat drawing through water, was right under her fingertips.

      Exhilaration claimed her to her toes and back.

      “No swimming for you tonight, young lady. The gamblers won’t be abed at all.”

      “I hope not.”

      “And don’t you go sneaking off to gamble, either.”

      “I’ll keep my clothes on, but I won’t promise not to earn us a fistful of money.” She nudged her uncle in the ribs, shot him a grin. He’d always claimed to disapprove of her gambling, but she was skilled at it. In spite of his duty-bound admonitions, she knew he was proud of her. “Besides, I’m looking for someone who might be on the Belle.”

      “A man?” Her uncle asked, overstating his hope.

      “A woman...for a man.”

      “You matchmaking