The Cowboy's City Girl. Linda Ford

in his mind. She was a city girl but anxious to be on her own. What did that mean? From a rich family but expressing pleasure at the simple things of ranch life. Light and easy in his arms. But a classy white lady.

      She simply did not fit into any of his classifications. And that left him unsettled, wondering if she had the same problem trying to see where he fit.

      It was obvious he was a half-breed.

      She had no such problem.

      Maisie’s oft-spoken words echoed in his head. “Boys, there will always be those who say things about you. Hearing them say it doesn’t make it true. You don’t have to believe what they say about you.”

      He tried not to believe what others said. But Helen had taught him one thing he would never forget. What others believed about him did make a difference. In the way they treated him, whether or not they were willing to associate with him or even be seen with him.

      The doorknob rattled and Beatrice stepped out carrying a basin of water and some soiled rags.

      He sprang forward. How had his thoughts gotten so far off track? Was he trying to convince himself that Beatrice was like Helen? The idea condemned him. If he wanted to be judged on his own merits—not his heritage—shouldn’t he be willing to offer her the same consideration? “How does her leg look?”

      The water in the basin sloshed and he took it from Beatrice’s trembling hands. “Are you okay?”

      “She did very well,” Maisie called. “Now take her out for some fresh air.”

      Fresh air? He’d detected no odor. “Your leg is infected?” He set the basin on the closest hard surface, pushing a stack of books out of the way to make room for it, and hurried to her side.

      “Levi, will you stop fussing. No, my leg isn’t infected. But remember it’s Beatrice’s first time at dealing with a wound. It’s been a little challenging for her.” Maisie lifted her head to look at Beatrice. “You did very well.”

      “I was so afraid of hurting you.” Beatrice’s voice quavered.

      “You were very gentle. Thank you.” Maisie squeezed Levi’s hands. “Take her out for a walk. Get her to relax.”

      “Yes, Ma.” It never entered Levi’s mind to refuse until he had cleaned out the washbasin and set the soiled rags to soak in cold water.

      Why had he offered to take her for walk, told Maisie he would do so, as well? It wasn’t as if they had any intention of becoming friends. She was a city girl. He was country to the core and proud of it.

      But she had taken care of Maisie and that was all that mattered.

      He had agreed to escort her on a walk and when he said something he generally meant to keep his word.

      She stared at the cupboard, though he could see nothing to hold her interest.

      “Are you ready?” he asked her.

      She started and drew in a sharp breath. “For what?”

      “A walk?” Had she not heard Maisie’s suggestion? Had she forgotten his offer? His eyes narrowed as he studied her.

      Or was it his company she objected to?

      But she followed him out the door and fell in step at his side as they followed the trail through the trees to the river. For several minutes before they stepped into a clearing they heard the murmur of moving water. Water flashed silver and blue, highlighted with gold from the lowering sun. The rain had freshened the air.

      Levi held out his arm to signal her to stop. He could have saved himself the effort. She hadn’t moved since they reached the edge of the trees.

      He pointed to the right, to the huddle of ducklings following in the mother duck’s wake. “Oh,” she gasped involuntarily.

      The duck turned, raced the babies into the shelter of some reeds and flew away.

      “I’m sorry,” she murmured. She looked past him. Her eyes widened.

      “Levi, look.”

      At the sharp note in her voice, he turned slowly, thinking how foolish he was to bring her out here without a gun to defend her.

      He saw no wild animal. No wild man. “What is it?”

      “Look in the shadows of that rock.” She pointed.

      He squinted to bring the object into focus. He blinked and stared, speechless.

      “It’s a child,” Beatrice whispered.

      “I see that, but what is it doing out here all alone?”

       Chapter Four

      Beatrice blinked, wondering if her eyes deceived her. But no, there was a child huddled against a boulder. She could see clearly enough to make out a little girl. “Is she lost?” She turned to Levi as she asked the question and saw how bottomless his dark eyes had grown. His black shirt made his features more angular.

      “I don’t see anyone else around.”

      They eased closer as they spoke.

      Levi’s hand caught Beatrice’s elbow. “Go slow. We don’t want to frighten her.”

      They were close enough to see the child’s almost white-blond hair had once been braided, but now hung in tangles about her tear-streaked face. Her purple dress was blotched with mud. Her bony knees stuck out from under the skirt in matching V’s. A half-grown kitten was clutched to her chest.

      The kitten meowed plaintively.

      “Honey, are you lost?” Beatrice asked gently. “If so, we can help you.”

      The child’s eyes widened. She sprang to her feet. Levi reached out to stop her but the child fled into the trees.

      The dark shadows swallowed her up.

      “Come on, we have to make sure she’s okay.” Levi grabbed Beatrice’s hand and they chased after the little girl.

      “There she is.” He ran faster, tugging Beatrice after him.

      She flung out her arm to protect her face against the flailing branches.

      Then he stopped, her hand still gripped firmly in his.

      She might have pulled free but the woods were dark and filled with all sorts of terrors.

      “I can’t tell which way she went. You go that way and I’ll go this. We’ll meet at the far side of these bushes.” He dropped her hand and was gone before she could protest.

      For a moment she stood immobile. The evening air had a damp coolness to it and the light from the west gave the air a golden glow. She couldn’t hear Levi. Behind her came the murmur of the river. Courage returned. She couldn’t get lost if she could hear the river. All she had to do was follow the sound and find the trail that would take her to the house.

      That poor child had no such assurance of safety. Careful of where she stepped, she eased through the branches that would allow her to skirt the thick bushes. She stopped after a few feet to listen.

      At first all she heard was her own rapid breathing, then her breathing returned to normal and she heard a faint “meow.” The kitten. Unless the cat had escaped that meant the child was nearby.

      Afraid she might frighten the little girl away, Beatrice stood very still and studied her surroundings. There in the shadows. The child tried to hide.

      “I won’t hurt you.” She didn’t move, feeling the little one’s fear as clearly as if it was her own. She knew how overwhelming it was to find oneself in a strange place, with no parents to help and protect. “I just want to help you.” She waited, letting the child take her measure of Beatrice. “Would you like me to help you find your parents?”