The Cowboy Father. Linda Ford

       Ellie didn’t even shift her eyes to the page.

       “Ellie, please read this.”

       Ellie lowered her eyes, skimmed the page and closed the book. “I can’t.”

       “Why can’t you? Is it too hard?”

       “I can’t remember.”

       Louisa sighed. “What do you remember?”

       “Falling out of the tree and landing wrong. You should have heard my leg. It snapped. Like this.” She clicked her tongue to imitate the sound. “I tried not to cry, but my daddy was gone.”

       “Gone? Where?” Was this what he meant when he said it was his fault?

       “Out working. We own a ranch, you know. He was checking the cows.”

       “I see.”

       “So now I have to lie in bed in this horrible cast—” She banged on it, the sound a hollow thud. “I can’t do schoolwork.”

       “Of course you can work. There’s nothing wrong with your brain.”

       Ellie turned away and stared at the door, as if willing Emmet to appear. And he did—sauntered past as if he had other things on his mind, but Louisa knew he was checking to make sure Ellie was okay. He paused. “Things going well?”

       “Daddy.” Ellie’s voice quivered in the saddest possible way.

       “Things are just fine.” Louisa grabbed a bit of chalk. “Let’s do some arithmetic now. What is the answer to this?” She wrote “1 + 1=” on the blackboard.

       Emmet hesitated, watched a moment longer then moved on, and the outside door whacked shut.

       “Ellie?”

       The child stared clear through Louisa. “I don’t know.”

       “You aren’t even looking.” She tapped the blackboard.

       Ellie glanced at the numbers. “Can’t remember.”

       Louisa crossed her arms and faced the child squarely. “I don’t think that’s the truth. I know you know the answer to one plus one.”

       They did a stubborn silent duel.

       “Two.” Ellie was not happy about admitting it.

       “Good. Now two plus two.”

       “Where’s my daddy? I want my daddy.”

       “Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

       “No. I want my daddy.”

       Louisa took two steps until she stood right next to the bed. “Your daddy is working, and you must too.”

       “I’m sick.”

       “No, you’ve got a broken leg.”

       The big gray cat Louisa had met the day before jumped on the bed and stared into Ellie’s eyes.

       Louisa laughed. “The cat is telling you to do your schoolwork.”

       Ellie shoved the cat to the floor. He landed with a thud and stalked away. “I want my daddy!” Ellie yelled loudly.

       Emmet crashed into the house and strode into the room. “Did you call me?”

       Ellie nodded, her eyes brimming with innocent tears. “I have to go to the bathroom and Miss Morgan won’t let me.”

       Emmet shot Louisa a stinging look.

       Louisa wisely refrained from rolling her eyes at the child’s dramatics. Instead, she quietly headed for the door. “I’ll step out while you tend to her needs.”

       She came face-to-face with Auntie May. “How long have you been here?”

       “Just got in. Emmet and I were fixing the shingles.” Her eyes narrowed. “She been giving you grief?” She tipped her head toward the bedroom.

       Louisa opened her mouth to answer, then realized it would be inappropriate to speak of her concerns. “We’re getting a routine established.” Heaven help her if this was the regular pattern she’d be forced to follow.

       “The little one is a tad spoiled, though I suppose it’s to be expected. There’s just the two of them.”

       “And you.”

       Auntie May snorted. “The child barely knows me. Besides, I’m just an old spinster.” She bent to pet the cats crowding around her ankles.

       Louisa wanted to see her expression. She longed to see acceptance and peace in Auntie May’s eyes. Needed to know being a spinster wasn’t an unhappy fate.

       Louisa straightened her spine. She would become a happy spinster doing things to help others and bringing joy to herself as well. She’d start by showing Ellie it was fun to learn. She’d help the child deal with the boredom of her body cast. It would take more wisdom than her limited experience offered, but she could ask Adele for help, and she could pray. After all, hadn’t God said in James chapter one, verse five, “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.” It was one of the verses Father had Louisa and her sisters memorize.

       Emmet emerged from the room. “Miss Morgan, please call me if Ellie needs to go the bathroom again.” His voice and expression clearly said what his words didn’t. He judged her unkind and unreasonable to not allow his child such basics.

       “Of course.” She knew full well there was no point in saying she had asked and Ellie had denied such a need. This battle was between Ellie and herself. With renewed determination, she returned to the child’s bedside.

       At noon, when she was done for the day, she’d made absolutely no progress with the planned lessons. Ellie insisted she didn’t know or couldn’t remember anything and refused to do any work.

       Louisa emerged from the room, knowing her hair was mussed and her face likely flushed from frustration and fighting back tears. Why had she thought she could do this job? A bubble of self-pity whispered she was totally useless, but Louisa ignored it. Fought back. She wasn’t useless. Not in every aspect. She could help this child if Ellie allowed it.

       Emmet walked her out, waiting until they were out of earshot to speak his mind. “I sense you and Ellie are not getting along.”

       “Miss Ross said I might encounter resistance. After all, Ellie has lost her freedom. On top of that, everything is new. Familiar things are gone.” Let him think the latter observation came from Adele as well, even though Louisa spoke her own thoughts. “Her only defense is—” she wanted to say defiance, but doubted Emmet would appreciate such a description “—is to exert what little independence she has left. I believe she will soon tire of it and find there are more enjoyable ways to pass the time.”

       He looked doubtful. Louisa feared he would tell her not to return. But after several seconds’ consideration, he sighed heavily. “You’re right about one thing. She’s lost everything. She can hardly be blamed for feeling out of sorts.”

       “She hasn’t lost everything, though.” Her words were quiet, coming from a place full of certainty that Emmet was more than enough for this child. “She has you.”

       “She’ll always have me.”

       She nodded, though words pushed at her lips, wanting to warn that he couldn’t promise such.

       “As long as I live.” He clenched his fists. “And I fully intend to raise her in such a way that even if something happened to me—God forbid—she would never feel like I was gone. I’d be in her thoughts and in her actions every day.”

       Peace filled Louisa. “Exactly what my father did.”

       Their gazes connected, forged a single thought about fathers and daughters…how each needed