Montana Cowboy Daddy. Linda Ford
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you’ll soon have it figured out.”
“I got it all figgered out already,” Mattie said. “You—” she nodded toward Sadie “—are Miss Young, the teacher.”
Sadie nodded. “That’s right and I intend to start classes as soon as possible. All I need is a few tables and chairs and some books.”
Mattie waited until Sadie finished then turned to the man at her father’s other side. “And you are the new doctor.”
Dr. Baker smiled. “I hope you aren’t sick.”
Mattie giggled. “Nope.” She moved on to Kate. “You’re the nurse. You help your father.”
Kate tipped her head in acknowledgment. “That’s correct.”
“And you.” She gave Isabelle wide-eyed study. “You...” She looked puzzled. “You’re pretty and you’re nice,” she blurted out.
Isabelle’s hands dropped to her lap and she stared at Mattie. Her throat closed off. She feared tears would burst free if she so much as opened her mouth. Was that all she was? Pretty but useless.
* * *
Dawson sat back as Annie and Carly removed the plates and serving dishes and brought out generous slices of chocolate cake. “Among the many things Annie does well is bake a chocolate cake that exceeds any I’ve ever tasted.” Why did he look at Isabelle as he said those words? Why did he feel like he must defend their way of life?
“Thank you, big brother. Mama taught me how to bake.”
He continued to watch Isabelle as she tasted a mouthful of the cake. Her eyes widened and she met Dawson’s gaze. “This is very good. Indeed, as you say, the best I’ve ever tasted.”
He released a gust of air as she shifted her attention to Annie to compliment her on her baking. He immediately informed himself that he wasn’t hoping for some sign of appreciation of ranch life. He jammed an invisible fist into his thoughts.
“Annie, would it be possible for you to teach me how to make this cake...?” Isabelle paused. “Or is the recipe a family secret?”
Annie laughed. “I’ll be happy to show you how to make it so long as you promise to keep the recipe to yourself.”
Dawson had never before realized how much she sounded like their mother.
Isabelle held up her hand in a solemn salute. “I promise.” She and Annie smiled at each other. A shiver raced across Dawson’s shoulders. Bad enough Grandfather had decided Isabelle was like Grandmother. Even worse that Mattie was awestruck, but if Annie took a liking to her, he would have his hands full fending off their interest.
They finished the meal with tea and the ladies moved to the kitchen, Mattie trailing behind them. Dawson, his grandfather and the doctor, who asked the men to call him John, retired to the sitting room. John leaned his head back and soon snored. Poor man had had a long day. Seeing their guest slept, Grandfather opened his current book and began to read. Dawson tried to do the same but his attention kept drifting to the sounds of talk and laughter from the kitchen. And why he should notice Isabelle’s voice more keenly than the others didn’t make sense. It wasn’t as if she talked loudly. Or that he wanted to be aware of her.
“Papa?”
He jerked his head up at his daughter’s voice. She stood in the doorway, holding Isabelle’s hand.
His insides crackled.
“Papa, Miss Isabelle said she would put me to bed.” Mattie left Isabelle’s side to kiss her father’s cheek. “Good night.”
He held the child close. He could not let Isabelle do this. But how could he stop her without hurting Mattie? “I’ll take you upstairs.”
Mattie stiffened. “But, Papa, I asked her to. That’s okay, isn’t it?”
He could hear the tears building in her shaky voice.
“Allow the child this little pleasure,” Grandfather said. “What harm can it do?”
Dawson could have reminded Grandfather of the sorrow Mattie had suffered when Violet left. But one look at his grandfather and he knew he would not win this one without making a scene. So he kissed Mattie on the cheek and slowly released her. “Good night, little one.”
Mattie went to Grandfather for a hug and a kiss, then returned to Isabelle’s side, took her hand and led her upstairs to the bedrooms.
Dawson followed with his eyes and listened until the bedroom door squeaked. Still he looked upward wishing he could intervene.
“She’s a beautiful woman,” Grandfather said.
“So you’ve said repeatedly.”
“Seems Mattie is taken with her.”
“I don’t think that’s a good thing.”
Grandfather considered Dawson so long Dawson struggled not to squirm. Just when Dawson thought he might have to jerk to his feet to get away from the old man’s study, Grandfather spoke. “Son, you can’t use the same ruler to measure every woman.”
“I have no idea what you mean.” He could only hope his cold tone would discourage the older man.
Grandfather made a dismissive noise. “I know you well enough to know when you look at Isabelle, you see Violet. Or at least tell yourself you should.”
“Grandfather, I have no opinion on her. I just met her. Time alone will determine what sort of woman she is.”
“Time doesn’t stand a chance against your preconceived ideas.”
He would not respond. If he had preconceived ideas it was with good cause. He didn’t take in a satisfactory breath until Isabelle descended the stairs and returned to the kitchen. Surely that would put an end to this ridiculous conversation.
“Like I said, Mattie needs a mother.” Grandfather’s words fell into the silence like an explosion.
Dawson jerked to his feet. “If I marry again, it will be an ordinary ranch woman. I don’t intend to repeat a very bad mistake.”
He didn’t slow his steps until he reached the kitchen.
The women huddled together around the table and laughed about something.
He recognized the gleam in Annie’s eyes. She was up to something. She and Carly often did things their fathers and brothers disapproved of. They’d even been known to visit Wolf Hollow, the rough mining town up the creek, until Pa had put a stop to it.
He shifted his gaze to Carly. Yes, they were up to something. His attention moved onward to Isabelle. The same spark of mischief filled her eyes. He’d seen that look before. In Violet’s eyes as she outlined some adventure meant to relieve the boredom of her role of wife and mother. Despite what Grandfather said, there was something frighteningly like Violet in Isabelle.
“I need to take our guests home.” He heard the sharp tone of his voice but hoped no one else would notice.
Annie rose. “I’ll get the coats.”
Kate headed for the sitting room. “I’ll inform my father.”
Carly stretched. “I best get home, too, before Father starts to worry.” She slid her chair back but made no other move toward leaving.
Annie returned and Dawson waited for them all to don their outerwear, then led the guests out to the buggy and helped them aboard. He told himself it made no difference whether he helped Sadie, Kate or Isabelle. It was only common courtesy. But he had to stifle his reaction when Isabelle’s hand rested in his.
Annoyance at Grandfather’s suggestion he should be interested in this woman intermingled with the bitter memory of the years he’d spent married to Violet. In hindsight he realized he should never have married her. He hadn’t known her long enough.