The Rancher's Courtship. Laurie Kingery
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said quickly, “but wait till you see the fine cabin your papa’s going to build there to take its place.”
The girls’ mouths were twin Os. “Why did the—” Abby began.
Before Abby could complete her question, Caroline said, “Girls, why don’t you take this pitcher of cream out to the mama cat in the shed? There’s a bowl out there for you to pour it in.” She handed the little pitcher to Abby. “It’s curdled a little, but she won’t mind.”
The girls scampered for the door, and it banged shut behind them.
“Thanks,” Jack said, his eyes grateful. “Sometimes I forget they’re listening.”
His gaze held hers a moment longer than she was comfortable with, but she couldn’t seem to look away.
“So your plan is to let the children live here while you stay on the ranch land this winter, and then leave them with us when you take off with the herd in the spring?” her mother said, then seemed to hold her breath until he nodded.
“When are you going to start building?” her father asked, also looking relieved.
“Tomorrow, after I stop at the bank and tell Mr. Avery. I didn’t make it back before the bank closed today. I imagine I’ll have to sign some sort of paper,” Jack said.
Her father chuckled. “You won’t find Mr. Avery at the bank. Tomorrow’s Saturday.”
Jack’s eyes crinkled in the corners just as Pete’s had, Caroline thought, as he raked a hand through his hair.
“Guess I’ve purely lost track while we were traveling.”
“I’ll be seeing him tomorrow, though,” her father said, “so I can let him know for you. I’m sure he won’t mind if you go ahead and start working since it’s already so late in the year.”
“I’ll come into town often to see my girls—at least every Sunday, and each time I come into town for supplies. And when the weather isn’t too cold, they could come out and spend some time at the ranch,” Jack assured them.
“Sounds fine,” her mother said. “Why don’t you spend another night here and explain the plan to your girls before you start building tomorrow?”
Caroline saw Jack hesitate. Though he hadn’t been speaking to her, Caroline sensed he was waiting for her reaction—why? It wasn’t up to her to approve or disapprove of what he did.
“As Papa said, we’ll see the bank president tomorrow,” Caroline told him. “The mayor’s daughter, Prissy Gilmore, is getting married, and the whole town will be going to the wedding. I thought the girls would enjoy going with us. Did you happen to bring the rest of their clothing with you?”
Jack nodded, a little uneasily. “I left it in my saddlebags on the step,” he said.
“Would you go get it, please?” Caroline asked. “I’m thinking we might need to launder what they’ll wear to the wedding.”
He arose and went to the door, his steps those of a condemned man walking to the gallows. Brushing off the saddlebags as he entered, he crossed the kitchen and laid them on the table.
“Now, you have to remember,” he began, his tone apologetic, “they didn’t get off the ranch much, and they’ve been traveling with us drovers and the herd…I—I’m afraid there’s not much you’d consider suitable… .”
Caroline opened one saddlebag and dumped its contents on the table, then the other. The saddlebags contained boys’ shirts and pants—and nothing else.
Chapter Six
“Where…where are the dresses?” Caroline asked, thunderstruck. “This can’t be all you packed for those little girls?” Then suddenly she knew it was all, and she raised her gaze to Jack’s guilty face.
“Their blue pinafore dresses are the only dresses you brought.” It was a statement, not a question. She hadn’t meant to expose his poor planning again, but it was too late to call back her words. It had just never occurred to her that a father might not see the need for little girls to have more than one dress.
He nodded, then shrugged. “I figured there was no point in dresses on the trail, and they’d been wearing pants around the ranch ever since—well, ever since my wife died,” he said. “We only had one Mexican cook who did the laundry, too, and when the girls grew out of their old dresses, I—I didn’t see any point in having more than a pair of new ones made as they grew. They used the cook’s son’s castoffs—he was a little older. Yesterday, I—I wanted them to make a good impression…”
He looked so miserable in his confession. Caroline’s heart went out to him. “Well, no matter,” she said quickly, “I’m sure they can wear some of my dresses from childhood. Mama never threw anything out, right?” she asked her mother for confirmation.
“Sure, I imagine they’re still in that old trunk in the shed. Land sakes, it’s not like little girls’ fashions change all that much from year to year. They’ll do till I have a chance to make up some new dresses,” she added, clearly cheered by the prospect. “Maybe I’ll pop down to the mercantile first thing tomorrow before the wedding and see what Mrs. Patterson has in the way of pretty fabrics. Caroline, mind that stew. Your father and I can go get those boxes out of the trunk in the shed while it’s still light enough to see what we’re looking at.”
Jack watched as Caroline’s parents left the kitchen. Then he turned back to Caroline.
“Reckon you don’t think I’m much good as a father, not keeping my girls in proper clothing,” he said.
That was exactly what she had thought, but Caroline wouldn’t have admitted it for the world. “Don’t worry, Jack, Mama’s been itching to have some little girls to dress ever since I grew up. By Christmas they’ll each have such a wardrobe you’ll have to address each one as ‘Princess.’”
He gave her the ghost of a smile, but she was relieved to see his shoulders slacken their rigid posture.
“Lucinda was a good mother,” he said at last. “It’s a good thing she doesn’t know all I’ve put them through. If she did, she’d want to come down from Heaven and box my ears.”
“No, she wouldn’t,” she assured him, laying a hand impulsively on his forearm. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Jack. I believe those who’ve passed on do know what their loved ones are going through, and they understand. She knows you’ve done the best you could. You’re trying to build a better life for them and yourself—it’s why you’re going to Montana, isn’t it?”
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