The Cowboy's City Girl. Linda Ford

for cold winter days. “What a warm, inviting room,” she murmured. She could imagine the family gathered round the stove on winter evenings.

      “It’s nothing special. Tends to get a little crowded when the whole family is here and as you can see, there’s no place to go but here or the kitchen.”

      She couldn’t tell if he meant to complain or if he was happy about having such a large family to crowd the house. “I would think sharing the room with family would be joyous.”

      He paused before a door, a smile curving his mouth. “It is.”

      She could not get over the way his features softened when he smiled. Like a happy feeling from inside him rushed to get out.

      And then he opened one of the four doors along the wall, carried her things inside, then stepped out and indicated she should enter. He fled across the sitting room before she could even thank him.

      The room was bright and pleasant, which made her realize the rain had softened to a mist. She parted the curtains and looked out the window. Trees stood shrouded in moisture with a trail through them. She was rather disappointed she couldn’t see the barn and whatever other buildings there would be. In fact, it was the first time in her life she’d been unable to see any sign of human habitation from her dwelling place and it both frightened her and filled her with a sense of awe.

      Closing the curtains, she inspected the rest of the room. A little table stood beside the bed and upon it were a lamp and a Bible. Her courage grew by leaps and bounds. At least she’d come to a place where the Bible was important enough to be put by the bedside in their guest room, giving her hope they loved and honored God as much as she did. Another thing her parents and she had disagreed on.

      “I do hope you are not going to be fanatical like my sister,” her mother had said with enough disdain to fill volumes. “She chose to marry a penniless preacher when she could have married a wealthy man.”

      Since spending time with Aunt Opal, Beatrice decided being like her was a compliment. Aunt Opal was kind and gentle and loving.

      She changed into a dry frock—one less fashionable but infinitely more comfortable—and hurried out to the kitchen. She drew to a halt when she saw Levi, in dry clothes, sitting at the table with his mother. She’d heard the outer door open and close and assumed he’d left.

      Maisie reached out a hand. “We’re having tea. Come and join us. Tell me about yourself. Levi, pour our guest a cup of tea. My dear, sit down so we can talk.”

      “But I’m not a guest. I’ve come to help you.”

      “First things first,” Maisie said. “Levi, get her a cup.”

      Beatrice crossed to the table feeling Levi’s gaze on her every move. Did he think he might have to spring up and catch her again? No more weakness, she told herself. She had to prove she could do this job. If she did it well enough, Maisie would be able to recommend her for another job. But her legs quivered at Levi’s attention. Why did she allow him to make her nervous?

      Beatrice sat in the chair indicated and reluctantly allowed Levi to pour her tea. “Thank you.” She dare not look at him for fear she would see doubt in his eyes as to her suitability to do her job. So far she had done nothing but make more work for him.

      “Now tell us about yourself. Where are you from?” Maisie asked.

      “Chicago,” Beatrice answered.

      “What does your father do?”

      “He’s a businessman with many interests. Perhaps you’ve heard of Bernard and Wardell Doyle?” Bernard was her father, Wardell her uncle. “They own a railway, a manufacturing plant and several other businesses, though Father says his greatest asset is his name.” All the more reason Beatrice being a girl had been a disappointment.

      “No, I’m sorry,” Maisie said. “I was raised in Philadelphia but haven’t been back east in a number of years. Do you have siblings?”

      “I’m an only child.”

      “Me, too.” Maisie laughed softly and gave Levi an adoring look. “Some might see that as a blessing, isn’t that right, Levi?”

      “I’ve never thought of it much.” His grin was so mischievous that Beatrice almost stared. The man had a beautiful smile that left her breathless. “Except when Tanner and Johnny tied me to a stake and said they were going to torture me.”

      “Tanner and Johnny are Levi’s older brothers,” Maisie said. “Tanner is twenty-one, Johnny twenty. My, how time flies.”

      Beatrice waited for Maisie to supply Levi’s age. But she seemed to have forgotten the subject.

      “How old are you, my dear?”

      “Eighteen. How old is Levi—?” She blurted out the question then stammered to a halt. “I’m sorry. That was very rude of me.”

      “Not at all.” Maisie smiled at Levi. “He’s nineteen.”

      Beatrice concentrated on her tea while she gathered her manners.

      Maisie continued. “Did Levi tell you about my injury?”

      “He said you cut your leg.”

      “I fear it’s rather a bad cut on the back of my leg.” Maisie told of her accident. “My wound needs dressing, but I can’t reach it so I will need you to do it for me.”

      Beatrice had seen more illness in the past two weeks then she would have seen in four lifetimes back in Chicago. But she hadn’t tended a wound. “I’ll do my best.” She meant to sound strong and confident, but knew her voice revealed too much uncertainty.

      Levi’s expression hardened into sharp lines. No doubt he wondered what sort of help her uncle had sent.

      She could and would do the job. He’d see. So would his stepmother.

      “Ma is to rest with her leg up, so you’ll be in charge of the kitchen, the meals, the laundry—everything she’d normally do.”

      “I understand. My aunt explained my duties.” And had done her best to teach her in a few short hours how to do them. Beatrice had been shocked at how much a person had to know in order to run a house.

      “I can’t emphasize too strongly that she is not to be moving about,” Levi continued. “Her leg must be allowed to heal.” His dark gaze held hers in an invisible iron grip. She couldn’t free herself from his look. Did he think she was incapable of doing the job? He must never learn how close to the truth such doubts were. She’d prove to him and to her father, and even to herself, that she could handle the things her choice of life required.

      “I believe you’ve made yourself clear,” she said with far more assurance than she felt.

      Levi looked ready to say more, perhaps warn her further of the cost of failure on her part. He didn’t know the half of what failure would mean, not only to Maisie, but also to Beatrice.

      Maisie interrupted their conversation.

      “Levi, would you bring in one of the easy chairs from the other room and a footstool? I believe I’ll rest better if I can sit in the kitchen and talk to Beatrice as she works.”

      Levi hustled to do so, arranging a chair and stool by the table and getting Maisie comfortable in it.

      “Thank you, my boy.” Maisie patted Levi’s cheek. “Now you run along and leave us to take care of things.”

      “Do you have everything you need?” He directed his question to Beatrice.

      “I’m sure I can manage.” Not for all the grass in Montana would she admit she might have ventured in out of her depth.

      “Then I will take care of the horses and the buggy.” He hurried from the house.

      Beatrice gave a nervous glance about the room. No doubt there were things she needed to do, but she had