by Erica Vetsch
“Willow? What an unusual name.”
“An unusual gal. She wasn’t at all bothered that my brother is part native. Nor was Susanne, the girl who married my oldest brother.” Levi looked at her with silent challenge. “My mother, Seena, was a full-blooded Lakota Indian. She was injured fleeing the Battle of the Little Bighorn. My pa found her, saved her life and then they fell in love and married.”
She met his eyes. The rain softened sufficiently for him to see that her eyes were golden-brown, as warm as freshly baked bread. Then she ducked her head enough to hide behind the brim of her hat.
“You say that like you expect me to get off the seat and walk the rest of the way.”
He couldn’t decide if he should laugh at her suggestion or stop the buggy and let her off. “I’ll take you back to town if you wish.”
“I knew the situation before I came this way. I have no intention of turning back.”
She knew he was a half-breed and still she came? Her response both surprised him and pleased him. “You’re sure?”
She nodded. “I intend to do the job I came to do.”
He pulled up before the house. “We’re here.”
She squinted into the curtain of rain. “Where’s here?”
She wouldn’t be able to see much of the place in this downpour. “The Sundown Ranch.” Pride filled his voice. They reached the house. He swung down and went around the horse to reach up and help her. “Come on in. It’s simple but I think you’ll find we’re very comfortable.”
“Indeed.” Not another word, leaving him to wonder if she’d find the place to her liking or not. Hadn’t he heard that her father was one of the richest men in Chicago? She’d surely think the ranch house small. But she had agreed to come here of her own free will. That must mean something.
“Come and meet my ma.” He drew her inside, but his heart slammed against his ribs as a result of what he saw. “Ma—” Maisie balanced a steaming cup of tea as she tried to make her way to the table while hobbling on one leg. “What are you doing?” He sprang forward, took the cup, set it aside then half carried her to the nearest chair. “You are supposed to be resting with your leg up. Have you started the wound bleeding again?”
“Levi, stop fussing and introduce me to this young lady who looks ready to turn tail and flee.”
He looked back at Beatrice. She looked miserable and cold. Leaving Maisie safely settled on her chair, he beckoned her forward.
But she didn’t move, glancing at the puddle forming at her feet. “I’m dripping wet.”
“It’s only water. It will dry. Come to the stove and get warm.”
He caught a look of uncertainty in her eyes. She shook from head to toe and started to wobble.
He sprang forward just in time to catch her before she fell to the floor in a faint. Snagging a chair with his foot, he dragged it close to the stove, lowered her to the seat and considered his predicament. He should be out chasing the scoundrels responsible for causing problems around the place. The pouring rain provided perfect cover for them, but the woman who had come to help Maisie was of no use. He couldn’t leave her alone—or expect her to take care of Maisie’s needs.
He was stuck inside with two incapacitated women.
What was he going to do?
Copyright © 2016 by Linda Ford
ISBN-13: 9781488007873
His Prairie Sweetheart
Copyright © 2016 by Erica Vetsch
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