Montana Cowboy Daddy

by Linda Ford

  A trickle of fear skittered across her shoulders. She had never before been so bold and confrontational. Had she gone too far?

  He shoved his cup away. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She caught his arm, stopping him before he could push from the table. “I have lost my mother. And my father. I can’t imagine pretending they never existed.”

  “Did they love you?”

  She nodded, her eyes filling with tears as the memory of being loved and cherished ached through her.

  “Then it’s not the same.” He shook her hand from his arm and got to his feet. “You couldn’t possibly understand.”

  Isabelle heard the door to the examining room open and close and tried to signal him to stop talking but he continued, ignoring her desperate looks.

  “You’re a city woman. You don’t belong here any more than Mattie’s mother did. I regret I ever met her. I wish she wasn’t Mattie’s mother. It would suit me fine if Mattie forgot her entirely.”

  “Papa.” The agonized sound jerked his attention to his daughter standing in the doorway, a shocked look on her pale face.

  *

  Dawson’s heart landed in his boots. He’d meant the warning for Isabelle’s ears alone. He took a step toward Mattie, stopped at the look on her face. Like bone china about to shatter. “Mattie?” he whispered.

  Big, unfocused eyes met his.

  “Mattie?” He spoke more firmly, wanting to shake her from this state of shock.

  Mattie’s eyes left his, stared past him. She swallowed loudly and shuddered.

  He reached for her but she twisted her shoulders away and he let his hand fall to his side, afraid to touch her lest she break into pieces. What had he done? He only wanted to protect his child. Instead, she looked as if he’d struck her. But why should his honest opinion of her mother upset her so? It had nothing to do with how he felt about Mattie.

  She blinked. Her eyes narrowed and she looked at Isabelle. She reached out a hand to the woman, tears pooling on her bottom eyelids.

  Isabelle half rose then darted a glance at Dawson and sat back down, shaking her head sadly at Mattie’s silent plea.

  Kate seemed the only one who knew what to do. She pressed Mattie to her side. “You only heard part of the conversation. I’m sure there’s a good explanation for what your papa said.”

  Mattie rolled her head back and forth and drew in a sobbing breath.

  “It’s time to go home, little one.” Dawson hoped she would respond to the gentle pleading in his voice.

  She marched over to her coat, drying on the back of a chair, and slipped into it without a word, without looking at any of them.

  He donned his own outerwear in the same silent state, feeling as if someone had driven a firebrand into his heart. “Thank you for the cocoa. Good day, ladies.” He reached down to capture Mattie’s hand and led her from the house. He swung into the saddle and lifted her to ride behind him. She sat stiff as a board.

  “Hang on,” he said.

  She didn’t move and he reached back to pull her arms about his waist. Normally she hugged him tight and pressed her face to his back, something that gave him a lot of pleasure. The fact she did neither hurt like being trampled by a bull.

  “Let’s get home.” He turned the horse toward the ranch. Surely she would snap out of her state once they reached the ranch.

  He could blame no one but himself for this. He’d known from the first that he shouldn’t allow her to get too fond of Isabelle. He should have put his foot down. But he’d been lulled along by the affection Mattie had for her. By Isabelle’s affection for Mattie. And his need for someone to watch Mattie after school.

  He sucked back the groan that rushed to his mouth. Isabelle was too much like Violet. That was why Mattie remembered her mother and asked about her when she had formerly forgotten her.

  Isabelle’s words rang in his ears—Violet was half of Mattie. He didn’t want it to be so but he couldn’t deny it. Surrounding her with people like himself—the Marshall family and others of the community—would ensure the Violet part of her would disappear.

  The rain stopped. Snow did not follow. At least he didn’t have the added worry of his cows dealing with a snowstorm. What Bible verse did Grandfather quote when Dawson or one of the other members of the family fretted and worried? Take no thought for the morrow. Like Grandfather said, there was enough to be concerned with today without worrying about tomorrow.

  Easier said than done with so many things on his mind. How had his cows fared? If only he could go check on them. It would ease his mind. At least he would know what he had to deal with.

  And now Mattie. He wished he could think of something that would make her feel better, but apart from pulling the words back, which was impossible, he could think of nothing, so they rode on, tense silence thundering in his ears.

  At the ranch, he reined in. “Want to come with me to the barn?” Normally, Mattie insisted on accompanying him and helping as he took care of Jumper.

  “I want to go to the house,” she mumbled, not a trace of enthusiasm in her voice.

  “Very well.” He rode to the door and let her down.

  She didn’t even wait for him to dismount before she went inside. By the time he reached the door, she had disappeared from the cloakroom. He followed her into the kitchen but she hurried through to the stairs and raced up to her bedroom.

  Annie stared after her then turned to Dawson. “Something wrong?”

  He slumped to the nearest chair and hung his hands between his knees. “I took her and Isabelle to the falls. No one else came along.” He scrubbed at his chin. “I should have known better. Isabelle reminds Mattie of her mother and she’s upset.”

  Annie crossed her arms and studied him. “You couldn’t hope to push Violet out of her thoughts forever.”

  He jerked his head up. “Why not?” He held up a hand. “Never mind.” Probably all women had the same sentimental notion about the necessity of Mattie remembering Violet. But they hadn’t lived with the neglect, the discontent and the criticism he’d endured day after day. They hadn’t seen the way she refused to take care of Mattie. Like he’d told Isabelle, if not for his ma, he didn’t know what would have happened to his wee daughter.

  Grandfather limped into the room. “What sent little Mattie fleeing up the stairs like someone was after her?”

  With a gut-deep sigh, Dawson sat back and explained it again.

  Grandfather patted Dawson on the back. “Son, you can’t wrap her up in cotton wool and hope she never has to face harsh realities. Could be it’s time for her to learn who she is. Could be God sent Isabelle here to help the process along.”

  Dawson did not want to listen to Grandfather telling him that Isabelle was part of God’s plan for Mattie’s life. He bolted to his feet. “I forgot I left Jumper outside. I best go take care of him.”

  But if he thought going to the barn and tending his horse would ease his troubled thoughts, he discovered it wasn’t so. Why had he taken Isabelle to the falls? He should have heeded the warning shouted by his brain. Instead, he’d pushed it away, choosing a few minutes of selfish pleasure over the need to protect both himself and Mattie from the momentary enjoyment of an outing. Now he had to find a way to undo the damage. And to erase the memory of the day’s events.

  He shook his head, trying to forget the way Isabelle had clung to him on the trail to the waterfalls. And how she’d stared at the rushing water with an expression of joy.

  Either she truly enjoyed nature or she was a very good actress.

  He had no intention of trying to discover which.

  A little later he returned to the house. Mattie sat at the table, Annie at her side, one arm around the child. They both looked up at his entrance and both wore matching looks of caution.

  He slid to the chair across from Mattie. “I’m sorry you heard what I said to Isabelle. Those words were meant for her alone.”

  Mattie studied him long and har
d. “But they were about me.”

  “No, little one. They weren’t. You know I love you and would never hurt you.”

  Her expression remained unforgiving. “I know you don’t like my mama. Annie told me about it a long time ago.”

  He gave his sister an accusing look.

  She simply shrugged. “I answered her questions. That seemed reasonable and I never said you didn’t like Violet.”

  Mattie sat up straighter and waited for the adults to look at her. “No one had to tell me that. I just know it. ’Cause she didn’t love you like she should.” She crossed her arms over her chest in a defiant way and puckered her mouth. “But why don’t you like Isabelle?” A whole world of challenge rang from her.

  Dawson opened his mouth to say it was because she reminded him of Violet. He closed it again without speaking. Because she didn’t. Yes, she was a city girl and obviously one used to the finer things of life. That alone made her unsuitable for the Bella Creek area let alone ranch life. Or did it? Couldn’t people from all walks of life embrace challenges? But why was he even thinking along those lines? It wasn’t as if he meant to court her or even spend more time with her.

  Mattie stared at him, waiting for his answer.

  “It isn’t a matter of liking her or not liking her. Sometimes you simply have to trust me to know what’s best. I don’t want you hanging around her anymore.”

  “You might be grown-up and my papa and all, but you are wrong about her.” Mattie rose with unexpected dignity and stalked into the sitting room to join Grandfather.

  Dawson let out a long, weary sigh. Sometimes being a father was hard.

  Annie crossed her arms, too. Why had he never before noticed how Mattie imitated her? Of course, considering how much time they spent together, it was normal. “I have to say I agree with Mattie. You are judging Isabelle wrongly. I think she’s good for Mattie.”

  How could Annie make such a judgment in a matter of a few days? He bit back his thought. She’d known Isabelle the same length of time he had, and he had made up his mind about her. “I want Mattie to stay away from her.”

  “Humph.” Annie went to the stove, keeping her back to Dawson, but he could have sliced her disapproval into chunks large enough to fill the barn loft. “What do you plan to do with Mattie after school, then?”

  He didn’t answer. He had only one option but he knew he faced opposition on every side, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

  Sometimes doing what he thought was right was difficult.

  Chapter Eight

  Isabelle choked back tears as she explained to Kate how the conversation had deteriorated. “I haven’t changed my mind about her needing to be allowed a connection to her mother. Even if Dawson found the woman unsuitable.” A woman like herself. Someone who would never fit in. She straightened her shoulders. “Kate, is it true? Is there no place here for someone like me?”

  Kate hugged her. “What do you think? Does it matter what we came from or does it matter where we’re going?”

  “Both, I suppose.” Isabelle mused over the words for a moment. “Maybe it’s like I said to Dawson about Mattie’s mother. To deny our past is to deny a part of ourselves.”

  Kate patted her back. “You’re right. I suppose the trick is to find a way to keep our past in its rightful place so we can achieve our goals.”

  Isabelle nodded. “I know what I want and I am going to do my best to get it.”

  Kate tipped her head and considered her. “What is it you want?”

  “I want to be accepted for who I am. Not what I have.” She looked about the kitchen. Her gaze stopped at her coat hanging by the stove to dry and she recalled Kate’s words that she should have dressed more plainly. But her merit shouldn’t be judged by what she wore or where she came from and certainly not by the amount of the money left to her. She turned back to Kate, her voice strong. “Promise me you’ll keep my inheritance a secret.”

  Kate gave her a one-armed hug. “That’s your secret to keep or reveal as you choose.”

  Dr. Baker came from his room. “My goodness. I believe I slept away most of the day.” He glanced toward the examining room. “Are you sure no one has called for me?”

  “Not one person,” Kate assured him. “Are you feeling better?”

  Her father gave Kate a kindly look. “I’m fit as a fiddle.”

  Kate made him tea and fussed over him until he waved her away. “Kate, don’t you have something better to do than worry about an old man?”

  Although Kate did her best to hide her feelings, Isabelle clearly read her friend’s hurt and understood its cause. Kate did not care to hear her father talking about being old. Poor Kate had been so frightened when her father was injured. Knowing what it was like to be without both parents, Isabelle had offered sympathy and consolation. She and Kate had grown exceedingly close during those anxious days.

  Since his recovery, Kate tended to hover over her father.

  The good doctor must have noticed Kate’s sudden stillness. He reached for her hand. “Not that I don’t appreciate your concern and I couldn’t manage my office without you.” His expression grew puzzled. “Did I do it on my own before my accident?”

  Isabelle had observed the doctor’s erratic memory of events before his injury.

  Kate worried her lips before she spoke. “Father, there is nothing that gives me more pleasure than being your assistant.” She bustled to her feet. “I better get a meal on the table.”

  Isabelle jumped up. “I said I would take care of preparing the meals.”

  Kate slowly faced her. “I don’t want you to feel tied down.”

  “I need to be useful.”

  “Then let’s do it together. But I want you to promise me one thing.”

  “Of course.” Isabelle waited, knowing her friend would be kind and gentle.

  “You remember you are always free to consider other possibilities. Don’t feel you are obliged to stay here. You never know what God has in store for you.”

  Isabelle happily agreed. When she’d met Mattie, she’d hoped spending time with her was part of God’s plans for her. As she’d accompanied Dawson and his daughter to the waterfalls, she’d even allowed herself to imagine she might have a place in both their lives. Before the afternoon ended, Dawson had made it unmistakably clear that he did not see it that way. She closed her eyes against the disappointment scraping her insides. “I don’t expect there will be anything else to consider.” She would do her best to be satisfied.

  *

  Dawson took a sullen, quiet Mattie to town the next day. “I’ll take you home after school,” he said as he dropped her off in front of the store.

  “Goodbye.” She marched away without a backward look.

  With a heavy heart, he went to work. His movements felt sluggish as the day passed with agonizing slowness. He saw Isabelle leave the house to get firewood. She never so much as glanced his way. Wasn’t that what he wanted? Yes, it was. But it didn’t feel right. In fact, it felt downright awful. As if someone had erased the color from the sky.

  Realizing he had to inform Isabelle not to expect Mattie after school, he set aside his tools and crossed to the woodpile. “I’m returning home early today so I won’t need Mattie to come here.”

  She faced him, her expression impassive, but he noted the slightest puckering of her mouth. Something most people wouldn’t even see but he’d noticed it a few times and knew it signaled displeasure.

  “I see. Thank you for letting me know.” She adjusted the pieces of wood in her arms and turned her feet toward the door.

  If only he hadn’t been able to hear the hurt in her voice. “It’s—” He could hardly say it wasn’t personal because it was completely personal. What could he offer in way of explanation? “I have things to take care of at home.” Like explain to Grandfather how the school would get built if no one showed up to do the work. Grandfather wouldn’t likely accept that a Marshall had a good excuse for not being there.

  �
��You don’t need to explain yourself to me.” She didn’t even turn to tell him that but continued on her way, stepping into the house and closing the door behind her.

  He clamped down on his back teeth. She was right. He didn’t need to explain himself to her and yet he wished she would say she understood. Mattie did not need to know more about her mother. That knowledge held nothing but pain for his child.

  And perhaps more pain for himself? The question came unbidden, likely planted there by something Grandfather had said because it certainly didn’t come from Dawson’s thoughts. He no longer felt any pain at Violet’s behavior. All he felt was a gut-wrenching need to protect Mattie from knowing how little her mother had cared for them.

  Returning to work, he bent over the saw, grateful the sound of cutting the board covered his moan. He had to do what was right for Mattie. He must protect her.

  He waited on his saddled horse outside the store before school was dismissed.

  Mattie exited last and stood on the wooden platform, not looking at him.

  “Let’s go home.”

  She didn’t move. Simply stared into the distance.

  He reached down for her hand. She shifted and crossed her arms. “Mattie!” When she didn’t respond, he dismounted and lifted her to the back of his horse then climbed up in front of her.

  Again, he pulled her arms about him and warned her to hang on. But her arms remained limp about his waist and he rode homeward with caution.

  As soon as they reached the ranch, she hurried inside. He went to the barn, in no hurry to confront his grandfather. He brushed his horse, swept the floor and rearranged the tack room. Finally he could think of no more reason to delay going to the house.

  He entered and took his time about taking off his jacket, then decided the cloakroom could use some tidying.

  “Best get in here,” Grandfather roared from beyond the door.

  This was not going to be fun, Dawson thought as he stepped into the kitchen.

  Grandfather sat facing the door. “Boy, what’s your explanation for quitting work in the middle of the day? I’m counting on you to get that school built, but instead you’re lollygagging about the place. Do I have to go in and do the work myself?”