The Cowboy Father. Linda Ford

“We need to talk. I’ll wait for you in the front room.” Her stride was far steadier than her insides. She crossed the kitchen. Auntie May sat at the table with four cats on her lap and one draped over her shoulders.

       “You’re never beat until you quit,” she murmured.

       Louisa flashed a trembling smile. Exactly the words she needed to hear. She wasn’t about to quit. Nor admit defeat.

       Emmet backed out of Ellie’s room, assuring his daughter he would be back in a few minutes, then he gave Louisa a curt nod and strode into the front room.

       Louisa followed, and although she felt like being meek and apologetic, she kept her head high and her step firm.

       “Miss Morgan, I fear you are most unsuited for this job.” His eyes flashed with anger.

       An answering flash burned her eyes. “I consider Miss Ross to be a fine teacher, with all the skill that experience and study can give.”

       “We aren’t talking about Miss Ross.”

       “Indeed, we are. She recommended me for this job. She supervises the lessons. She also gives advice as to how to deal with a child who doesn’t welcome having to keep up with her studies. I suggest if you have a problem with my methods, you consult her.”

       He looked askance. “I have no quarrel with Miss Ross. I’m sure she’s a fine teacher.”

       “One of the best. We are fortunate to have her.”

       “That might well be the case, but she isn’t the one in Ellie’s room making her cry.”

       Louisa refrained from pointing out the tears were for Emmet’s benefit to elicit his sympathy. And they worked very well. “Before you decide to dismiss me, you should consider I am the only one available to do this job, unless you intend to scoop up one of those hobos down by the tracks.”

       Emmet looked as if she’d suggested dipping his child in mud.

       “I thought not. Then why don’t we consult Miss Ross and get her help in sorting this out?”

       “Sounds like a fine idea. After school today?”

       “She’s already expecting me.” They had arranged to meet almost every day to discuss lessons. “I don’t believe there is any point in me trying to continue this morning.”

       Louisa returned to the bedroom and gathered her things—including the wrapped gift—then paused to say goodbye to Ellie, not caring at all at the pleased look on the child’s face. This wasn’t over yet.

       She could only hope Emmet would realize that if he let Ellie win this battle, she would be the loser, not the victor.

       Later that afternoon, Louisa waited outside the classroom for Emmet. She’d arrived a few minutes before, but it didn’t seem fair to go in without him. He might wonder if she was seeking to get Adele on her side. It had been tempting to do so, but in the intervening hours since she’d marched out of the Hamilton house, her resolve had grown. She would not fail.

       Emmet approached, his strides firm, his jaw squared even more than she’d noticed before. He was a man determined to do what was best for his daughter.

       Louisa mentally drew herself to rigid attention, as if readying for duel. How silly. A giggle tickled the back of her throat, but she wisely restrained it. They weren’t adversaries. They both wanted the same thing—what was best for Ellie. Only problem was they obviously considered that to be two different things.

       Her amusement died as quickly as it had come, and the prayer she had whispered all afternoon filled her thoughts. Lord, show us a way of compromise that will enable me to teach Ellie.

       “I’m ready.” Emmet paused at her side and indicated she should lead the way.

       She proceeded down the hall to the room where Adele waited for her. They passed a closed door. “Before the Depression and drought drove so many people from the land, this room held the older grades. Now even the desks in one room aren’t full, and there are no students above grade five.” Why did she explain this to Emmet? He had attended classes here when he was younger, when both rooms held children. “I feel badly that many children will be deprived of an education because of their family circumstances.” She had never before felt the need to fill silences with idle chatter.

       “You hold learning in high regard, don’t you?”

       She cast a sideways glance at him. Was he mocking her? No, he looked serious. “I believe there is much value in learning.”

       “Reading, writing and arithmetic are handy skills.”

       “So are art, music, languages, history and so much more. The more we know about our world, the better equipped we are to live successfully in it. But learning also teaches us to think past the obvious, past our own experiences.”

       He chuckled softly, puckering the edges of her resistance to him. “I always thought experience was the best teacher.”

       “It is sometimes a cruel teacher.”

       They considered each other. She saw in his eyes a dark familiarity with the sort of pain she meant, and she understood something as clearly as if he had written it in bold letters across his forehead. He’d lost much and now protected Ellie, perhaps even indulged her, because she was all he had left, and he feared losing her.

       Instinctively she touched his arm, signaling she understood. “There is no substitute for experience, but I believe a solid education can equip us to deal with life. Of course, our best help in life is to trust God. He promises to guide us through.”

       Emmet could have been frozen stiff, for all the indication he gave that he heard her or was aware of her touch. Yet she didn’t withdraw her hand. She felt his troubled soul through her palm and wanted to soothe it. “You do believe in God’s love and care, don’t you?”

       He shuddered. “I think I do. I like to think God brought me back to Golden Prairie for a reason, but I think He could have found a better way to do it than through Ellie’s accident.” By the time he finished, his voice grew harsh, uncertain. He shook his head. “I struggle to trust God when things are hard.”

       She crossed her arms about her waist, pressing tight, her palm still warm from where it had touched him. “I suppose that’s what it means in Second Corinthians five, verse seven, when it says, ‘We walk by faith, not by sight.’ When we can’t see why things are the way they are, we choose to trust God anyway.”

       “It’s that easy, is it?”

       She smiled widely. “No, it’s that hard—but I prefer to trust God rather than my own assessment of the situation.” It had been a struggle to come to the place of trusting God in her barrenness, but she had to believe He had something else in store for her—something that would bring her satisfaction.

       Adele must have heard them outside her door as she swung it open. “Mr. Hamilton, Louisa. I didn’t expect the two of you. Do come in.” She glanced from one to the other. “Is there a problem?”

       Emmet spoke before Louisa could answer, but it didn’t matter. They’d come with a common purpose. “We agreed to seek your advice in Ellie’s lessons.”

       “Very well.” Adele waved them toward the front row of desks as she sat behind the big teacher’s desk.

       Louisa had no problem slipping into hers, but Emmet had to wedge into a desk designed for young children, not broad-chested men. Louisa ducked her head to hide her amusement and shifted her gaze toward Adele.

       Adele Ross had become a friend when she learned of the collection of books Louisa had and begged to borrow a few. The woman pulled her hair into a severe knot at the back of her head, as if to prove her serious state of mind, as suited a teacher of young children. But Louisa knew she had the kindest heart and a long store of patience to accompany her cheery attitude. They had never discussed their respective ages, but Adele