Montana Legend. Jillian Hart
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Ella continued to jump from rock to rock. Then her arms shot out as she fought for balance on a slippery-looking rock. Her skirt swirled around her knees. “Look! I didn’t fall.”
“You’re doing great, sugar.” Sarah held her breath as her little girl made one mighty jump and landed safely on the grassy bank.
It was like a gift, seeing her like this. A year ago Ella had been bedridden, suffering from illness, her future uncertain.
Now she was skipping across the field like any healthy little girl.
Every sacrifice, the long work hours and everyday hardship had been worth it.
“That wind is still a little cool.” Sarah took the shawl hung across her arm and laid it over her daughter’s too thin shoulders. “I don’t want you to pay any mind to what Aunt Pearl said about Mr. Gatlin. He’s no drifter. Look, there’s his wagon.”
“Maybe he’s got kids?”
“He didn’t tell me if he does. And if he doesn’t, then you’ll make friends when you start back to school.”
“Oh.”
How one single word could hold so much sadness, Sarah didn’t know. She ached for her little girl. “Remember how much you loved school?”
Ella nodded slowly, her braids bobbing. “I wasn’t behind then. A whole year, Ma.”
“It won’t take long for you to catch up.”
“Yeah.” But the fear remained.
Sarah wrapped her arm around Ella’s shoulders and pulled her close. “We won’t be stuck living with Uncle Milt forever. Things are changing, even though you might not know it. Pretty soon we’ll be living somewhere else, and all these worries about school will be behind you.”
“And maybe I could get my own horse?”
“In the grand scheme of things, maybe.”
“Look, someone’s comin’.”
Sure enough, there were two riders—Gage Gatlin, strong-shouldered and tall, and at his side a little girl, her face hidden by the brim of her sunbonnet. Her twin braids bounced in time with the small mare’s gait. Could it be? Was Gage Gatlin a father?
“Hello, Miss Redding.” He tipped his hat. “Don’t tell me you brought baked goods. I can smell that cherry pie from here.”
“I thought it might be the neighborly thing to do. And it’s ‘Mrs.’” She lifted the basket lid to show off the pie’s golden crust. “Fresh from the oven.”
“Yum.” The girl rode closer. She was button-cute and lean, her neat braids as black as ink. She had Gage’s sparkling eyes and his quick smile. “You brought a whole pie just for us?”
“That’s right. To welcome you as our neighbors. We live on the other side of the creek.” Sarah lifted the basket so the girl could see. “I’m told I’m not a bad baker, so I hope you enjoy it.”
“I bet it’s real good. Thank you, ma’am.”
“Call me Sarah. And this is my daughter, Ella. When I met your father earlier, I didn’t know he had a little girl. That’s a very pretty mare you have.”
“Thanks, I’m Lucy and I’m a great horseman like my pa.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Lucy.” Sarah held the handle so the girl could grasp the basket—it wasn’t too big or heavy for the child to carry.
Ella took a step closer, unable to take her eyes off the mare. “What do you call your horse?”
“Her name is Scout and she’s an Arabian. Wanna take this to the shanty with me? Pa says it’s a real eyesore.”
Ella nodded, and Lucy dismounted. The girls headed off across the prairie, side by side. Sarah felt warm clear through watching them.
“So you’re a missus and a mother.”
“Are you surprised?”
“Considering you told me you weren’t married.” Leather creaked as he dismounted.
“I’m not anymore.” She steeled her heart, but it still made her sad to remember.
He looked sad, too. “Lucy’s mother died when she was three. Scarlet fever.”
“I’m sorry. Ella and I have been through a tough bout with diphtheria, so I can only imagine.”
He fell into stride beside her. “I suppose that’s why you’re living with your uncle.”
“For now. I had to give up my housekeeping job when Ella became ill. In these hard times, it was difficult finding relatives who would take us in.” She fell silent, feeling his gaze intent on her, and she blushed. She’d said too much. “Now that Ella is stronger, we’ll be moving on soon.”
“Is that so? Where to?”
“I have no idea, but I’m certain the right opportunity is waiting for me. I only need to find it.” Sarah swept a grasshopper from her skirt and noticed Gage’s jaw tighten.
His mouth became a hard frown. “Opportunity?”
“Don’t worry. I wasn’t talking about marriage.”
“You got me nervous.” He winked, knuckling back his hat. “A man can’t be too careful.”
“You’re safe from me.” She liked the way his mouth curved in the corners, not quite a grin, but enough to make the laugh lines in the corners of his eyes crinkle. “I’m looking for love. That’s an entirely different thing.”
“You’ll be lookin’ a long time.”
“You don’t believe in love?”
“Let’s just say I believe in something more practical.”
The shanty came into sight over the rise, and Gage could see Lucy’s mare standing in the shade. The two girls burst through the shadowed doorway and into the sun. Gage’s daughter held the reins while her new friend petted the mare.
Sarah looked happy watching them, lit up from within. “Our girls seem to be getting along.”
“Sure do, with their heads together.” He was glad to see that.
Lucy was quick to make friends; she had to be, always moving from place to place, always the new girl. Now was her chance to make lasting friendships like other kids her age. That was one of the reasons he was here.
Marriage wasn’t one of them. He couldn’t deny his great relief to know the pretty woman at his side was only being neighborly. “It was thoughtful of you to bring the pie.”
“That isn’t the only reason I’m here.” The gray brim of her sunbonnet shaded her soft face, and she blushed as she kicked at the bunch grass at her feet. “There’s something you should know. Milt isn’t happy you bought the place.”
“He’s about to lose his stolen water supply.” Gage hadn’t met Mr. Owens, but he’d asked around enough to know the kind of man he was. “I can handle your uncle.”
“I know you can. But it’s always better to be prepared. He said something about making sure you weren’t here long.”
“Then I’ll have to show him how wrong he is.”
“Good.” Her chin came up and it was easy to see the strength in her. The steel.
He could imagine how well she’d cared for her daughter, all alone, and endured hardship to do it. And yet it hadn’t embittered her. He admired that about her and something else—the way she walked. She was all gentle beauty. He couldn’t help noticing how her pale cotton dress skimmed her slim, very attractive curves—and that troubled him.
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