Читать книгу The Cowboy's City Girl - Linda Ford - Страница 11
ОглавлениеShock burned through Levi’s veins as he stared at the door through which Beatrice had disappeared. He’d said nothing about the ruined meal. “She mustn’t have followed your directions,” he said by way of apology to Maisie.
“She did the best she could. The poor girl has never been faced with this kind of work before.”
Charlie grabbed the two remaining pieces of burnt meat. “Better’n starving,” he said and downed them with the aid of several glasses of water.
Maisie chased the remaining food around on her plate. “Try and picture yourself fitting into her world. I expect you’d feel clumsy and ill-at-ease.”
Levi jerked to his feet and scraped his plate into the slop bucket. “At least the pigs will enjoy the food.” He faced Maisie. “I’m sorry to foist this woman on you. Charlie, where’s your sister? I’ll get her to help Maisie.”
Before Charlie could answer, Maisie pushed herself upright, then lowered her foot to the floor.
He sprang forward. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t say what I need to say while looking and feeling like an invalid.” She grimaced.
When he started to protest, she held up her hand. “Levi, I want you to give Beatrice a chance. She needs to be here.”
“What? Why?”
Maisie gave him a look that he’d years ago learned to respect. “God has brought her here for a reason and I, for one, am grateful for her company. Don’t let knowing she’s from high society prejudice you.”
“Me? Prejudiced? Haven’t you got that backward?”
“I don’t think so. I know you are a fine young man, worthy of any young woman. Do you know it?”
“Of course I do. But what difference does it make in this situation? The only thing I want from Beatrice is for her to help you.”
Maisie nodded, her look gently reprimanding. “I wouldn’t want to see you denying the call of your heart.”
What on earth was she talking about? “The call of my heart? What’s that?” He half mocked, but his affection and respect for Maisie kept him from voicing his true feeling on the subject. It would be his head that he followed, not his heart.
“I hope and pray that someday you will hear it and be brave enough to listen to it.” Before he could protest, she hurried on. “Now go apologize to that young lady and persuade her to join us again.” She lifted her leg back to the stool and leaned back, sure her orders would be obeyed.
“You better do it,” Charlie said. “You know Aunt Maisie always gets her way.”
“Thank you, Charlie,” Maisie said, seemingly happy to be described that way.
Levi strode to the door, jerked it open and stepped outside. He closed his eyes and tried to gather his thoughts and calm his mind. He’d said nothing about the meal. Why should he apologize? He opened his eyes, expecting to see her in a weeping heap nearby. Instead, she stood before the rose bush Maisie cherished and lovingly wrapped every fall to protect it through the winter. When he was done here, he would cut some of the fresh flowers and take them inside for Maisie to enjoy.
Beatrice touched the dusky pink petals of one of the blossoms then bent over to inhale the sweet scent. Hearing him approach, she slowly lifted her head, her eyes wary.
He forgot everything that had been said inside. He forgot his annoyance over being ordered to apologize. He even forgot about being a half-breed, though there lingered a warning note that he would regret his lapse. But all those things disappeared in the way his heart reached out to her in a desire to erase the uncertainty in her eyes. His mouth was suddenly dry and he had to admit it wasn’t from the taste of burned chops. He’d admitted she was beautiful but seeing her shyly at the rose bush emphasized her beauty in a way that left him tongue-tied.
She smiled but no light came to her eyes. “I haven’t gotten off to a very good start, have I?”
Still speechless, he could only wait for her to continue.
“I’m not used to running a house on my own but I hope you’ll give me another chance. This job is important to me.”
He found his voice. “Why? From what you said I understand you came from a rich family. Can’t you simply go back home if this fails?”
Darkness clouded her eyes.
He glanced overhead but the clouds were not dark enough to bring those shadows to her eyes. They came from inside and again he had an urge to pull her close and protect her. It was only because he’d already rescued her twice and now it felt like his job.
She answered his question. “My reasons would be of no interest to you.”
He could argue the point, but she likely wouldn’t believe him and he had no desire to invite a snub. “Come on in and finish supper.”
She laughed, a sound of derision. “I think it is quite inedible.”
“There’s always bread and jam.”
“Very well.” She took two steps toward him and stopped, the scent of roses wafting toward him. “Does that mean you’re going to give me another chance?”
His head told him to say no. She wasn’t qualified for the job. Even worse, he felt his resolve to never again look with any interest at a woman faltering. Especially a white woman. Even more dangerous to the security of his heart, a rich city woman. But the word no would not leave his mouth. Instead he replied, “I surely am.” Besides, if there had been a better person to send out to help Maisie, wouldn’t Preacher Gage have sent her?
They reached the house. He grabbed the doorknob and opened the door for her, again breathing in the scent of roses as she passed him.
“I’m sorry for rushing away like that. Please forgive me.” She addressed the words to Maisie.
“You’re forgiven. Now let’s finish our meal.”
Maisie’s plate was empty, as was Charlie’s. Not wanting Beatrice to eat alone, Levi bravely took the smallest potato he could find, drowned it in butter and ate it in two mouthfuls.
“We have a little custom,” Maisie said. “We go around the table and tell about our day.”
Levi wanted to beg off for this once, but he thought it might be interesting to see how Beatrice would describe her day.
“Levi, with your pa and older brothers away, that leaves you as the oldest. Tell us about your day.”
“I found Beatrice crossing the river, on her way to help you, then found Charlie needing someone to shake him up and that’s about it.” He left out all the details that mattered, such as the jolt of fear when he saw Beatrice in the water with lightning flashing about her and the painful reminder of Helen’s death, which brought with it the memory of her rejection. The way his arms tightened around Beatrice as he carried her to dry land and then catching her as she fainted and feeling it was good and right to be there to protect her. Nope. He wasn’t going to admit any of those things. Not even to himself.
Maisie chuckled. “Short and sweet and to the point. Charlie, tell us about your day.”
Charlie sat up straighter. “I wasn’t drunk. I don’t care what Levi says. I still had half a bottle to go.”
Silence greeted his words. No doubt anyone with two eyes could see that Charlie had had more than enough to drink, despite his half-full bottle. Levi could hardly blame Beatrice for refusing to hold Charlie’s hand as he asked the blessing. But was it because of his drinking or because of his mixed blood? Was she of the belief that half-breeds weren’t fit company for a white woman? Especially a high-society woman. A Doyle, which seemed to mean something to her, but meant nothing in Levi’s world. Not that he cared what her opinion might be except to object to it on general principles.
Except it mattered far more than he wanted it to.
“Charlie, where have you been and what have you been doing since we last saw you?” Maisie asked.
“Been around.” He hung his head. “Tried to find work but no one wants to hire a half-breed.”
Levi refrained from pointing out the bottle was as much a hindrance for Charlie as his heritage.
“Not everyone feels that way,” Maisie soothed. She turned to Beatrice. “Tell us about your day, my dear.”
Beatrice chuckled, drawing Levi’s gaze to her, filling his mind with surprise and his heart with relief. He’d expected her to compete with Charlie for the worst day. “My day has been full of so many surprises I cannot begin to name them all. Being allowed the chance to do this job is an answer to prayer. Then I was rescued from the river by Levi. I am blessed beyond measure.” Her smile faded. “I apologize for the ruined meal. I found preparing it more difficult than I imagined.” She reached for Maisie’s hand. “And I thank you for being patient with me.”
Maisie looked pleased. “You’re welcome.”
When Maisie didn’t continue, Levi reminded her, “It’s your turn to tell about your day.”
“My blessings are self-evident. I was afraid I’d be lonely with Big Sam away, but here I sit with three young people at the table. How blessed I am.”
“You’re glad to see me?” Charlie asked, his tone indicating both doubt and longing.
“I’m always glad to see you. I hope you plan to stay a while.”
He grinned and pushed his longish hair off his face. “Maybe I will.”
If his cousin stayed it would keep him out of trouble. For some reason—perhaps their shared heritage—Levi always felt protective of Charlie. He looked at Beatrice to see if he could guess her feelings about Charlie being invited to stay. Their gazes collided. Her look went on and on. Challenging him. He wanted to say, Look after Maisie, make meals as best you can and leave my heart alone.
His heart? His heart had nothing to do with Beatrice. That thought was Maisie’s fault. It was she who had said he should listen to the call of his heart.
There would be no such call and even if there was, he would not hearken to it.
* * *
Beatrice didn’t realize how tense Levi made her until he and Charlie left the house again and a long sigh emptied her lungs.
“I’m a city girl, too.” Maisie’s voice brought Beatrice back to the here and now. “A teacher. I planned to teach in a girls’ school but when I saw an ad Big Sam had placed seeking someone to instruct his three boys, I changed my mind. The idea intrigued me. And I applied for the job. Big Sam demanded character references. He must have liked what my teacher and pastor said, as he said I got the job. My father wasn’t happy. He said it was a whim and I’d regret it.”
“Did you... Do you?” It amazed Beatrice to think of Maisie as a city girl.
“Not once. I fell in love with the boys immediately. They were wild and untamed. Big Sam had taken them with him everywhere after Seena died. I had my hands full teaching them manners and how to read and write. By Christmas, Big Sam and I were in love. How I love that man still.” She looked into the distance. “I hope he comes home soon. I miss him.” She gave a regretful chuckle. “He is not going to be happy to see what I’ve done to myself.”
“I’ll make sure you rest so you can heal as quickly as possible.” Beatrice prepared the water to wash the dishes.
“If you help me move closer I can dry,” Maisie said.
Beatrice would have refused but she heard the lonely tone of Maisie’s words. She pushed the chair and stool closer, then handed Maisie each dish as she washed it.
“Levi is very protective of me,” Maisie said. “So don’t mind him if he’s...” She waved her hands to indicate she wasn’t sure how to describe him.
Beatrice nodded as if she understood, but kept her attention on washing dishes, certain her cheeks were pinker than leaning over the hot water would make them. And she supplied her own words. Darkly handsome. Protective—even of a young woman he’d barely met. Has strong arms that make a girl feel safe.
Enough. She’d learned her lesson about trusting men. She had only one goal in mind—a life of independence that allowed her to follow her own plans and be freed of her father’s.
Thankfully, Maisie didn’t pursue the subject and they were soon done with the dishes.
Beatrice took the dry plates and returned them to the proper shelf. She stood back to admire the clean dishes. “Why did no one tell me how satisfying it is to see dishes washed and stacked in the cupboard?”
Maisie laughed. “Most people don’t find it quite so satisfying after doing it three or four times a day, three hundred and sixty-five days a year.”
Beatrice faced the older woman. “Do you find it satisfying?”
“Immensely so, but then I’m doing it for those I love and that makes all the difference.”
Love made all the difference. What a wonderful idea. Beatrice sighed almost inaudibly.
With the last of the dishes done and the kitchen clean so far as Beatrice could tell, she could think of no reason to stand about continuing this conversation, though she wished she could. It was nice to hear Maisie talk about love and marriage in such positive tones. Marriage, according to her parents, was more of a business deal than romance.
As if reading Beatrice’s mind, Maisie caught her hand. “I wish you and everyone could know the kind of love I’ve found. Don’t settle for anything less.”
She wasn’t interested in marriage of any sort but wouldn’t tell Maisie that. “What do I do with the scraps and wash water?”
“Dump the water on my flowers by the house. They thrive on it.” She chuckled. “Though they’ve had plenty of water today. The scraps...” Maisie looked doubtful, as if uncertain Beatrice could deal with the task.
“Tell me and I’ll do it.”
“Very well. Take the bucket of scraps out to the pigpen and dump them over the fence into the trough. Watch for puddles on the path. ”
“Where will I find the pigpen?”
Maisie gave her instruction.
Beatrice emptied out the basin of water then carried the heavy, slimy bucket from the house, being careful not to let it brush against her skirts as she passed the barn. She smelled the pigs before she reached the pen and gasped. Nothing had prepared her for so many strange and, sometimes, unpleasant odors. She reached the fence and counted two big pigs and half a dozen small ones that rushed toward her squealing and grunting and running into each other, pushing one another out of the way and climbing over each other.
She laughed.
“Amusing, aren’t they? Now you can see why bad-mannered people are often called pigs.”
She jerked about to stare at Levi. “I didn’t see you.”
He shrugged, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I was over there.” He pointed. “If you’d taken two steps to the right you would have tromped on me but you were too intent on your task.” His gaze shifted to the bucket on the ground beside her.
The pigs squealed loudly.
“They’re getting impatient.” Levi picked up the bucket and dumped the contents over the fence into a wooden trough.
Beatrice stared, fascinated as the pigs buried their snouts in the trough, not caring if they stepped on each other. She shook her head. “Pigs are...well, pigs.”
Laughter rumbled from Levi, drawing her gaze to him. How his eyes danced, and his face crinkled in a friendly sort of way. Just because she called a pig a pig?
She turned back to the animals. “They’re noisy, rude and loud. And they stink.”
More rumbling laughter. “Johnny says he thanks God he wasn’t born a pig.”
That brought a burst of laughter from Beatrice. Her eyes connected with his and something sweet filled the air. She couldn’t remember a time she had shared real, honest amusement with a man. It caused her insides to bounce up and down...not an unpleasant sensation. She reminded herself not to stare, but despite her admonition she could not break the look between them.
He shifted his gaze first, letting it go toward the house. “Have you done Maisie’s dressing yet?”
Her thoughts jarred back to the reason she was here. Changing the dressing was not a task she looked forward to. She had not a clue how to tackle the job. “No, I just finished cleaning the kitchen.” She turned to retrace her steps.
Levi fell into step with her. They reached the barn. She welcomed the chance to shift her thoughts to something else. “I thought there would be horses and cows in the pens.”
“The horses are out with the men at the moment except for those we need for getting around and Pa’s breeding stock.” He pointed toward the animals in the pasture. “He has big plans for expanding our bloodlines into something that will make the Sundown Ranch horses more desirable than the average horse. We seldom keep cows in the pens. They are out grazing. Except for the milk cow. Do you want to see her?”
“Is she friendly?”
He grinned. “She won’t say hello if that’s what you mean, but she also won’t be rude like the pigs who act like pigs.”
He was teasing her and she didn’t mind. “It’s good to know she has her species figured out.”
They were at the barn door. He edged it wider open and she stepped inside.
“I hope you don’t find the smell obnoxious,” Levi said.
She sniffed as she turned her head from side to side. “There’s a warm, earthy scent, a musty odor and a kind of mushroomlike smell. None of it overwhelming or unpleasant. It’s rather a reassuring odor.”
He stared at her. “Reassuring? You make the smell seem vital.”
“Vital? Yes. That’s exactly how it feels.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know what to make of you.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant, nor was she sure she wanted to know. If it was good she would be flustered, if bad, she’d be wounded. No, better not to know. “So where is this milk cow?”
He swept his arm toward the alleyway and she preceded him the direction indicated. Old Sissy munched on her feed. There were wooden pens on either side, some with boards that looked as if they had been chewed. She glanced upward at the sound of something scurrying overhead.
“Mice,” he explained. “The cause of Maisie’s accident.” His expression hardened like black rock.
“Wouldn’t cats take care of that problem?”
“Cats are hard to find and harder to keep. We had a mama cat but she was half-wild and packed up her kittens and moved on.”
An amusing mental picture flashed through her mind of a cat carrying a valise out of which three little kittens peeked and she laughed softly, wishing immediately that she had kept her amusement hidden.
“What makes you laugh?” Levi asked.
She glanced at him to see if he was annoyed but he appeared more curious than anything and she explained. “After all, you did say she’d packed up.”
He grinned. “She carried them one by one to a new place.”
“Carried them. How?”
“By the scruff of the neck.”
“I remember a time the groom was angry with the boy who helped with the horses and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and shook him. It didn’t look pleasant.” She shuddered to think of baby kittens being carried that way.
“It’s the way cats do it, and the kittens don’t seem to mind. Now, do you want to see the milk cow?”
“Yes, of course.” Though she’d momentarily forgotten their reason for coming to the barn.
He moved along the alley and stopped where a gate had been pushed open. A tawny-colored cow stood patiently with Charlie squatting at her side squirting milk into the bucket at his knees.
Beatrice knew where milk came from...in a picture-book sort of way. But she’d never seen it foaming up in a pail. For some strange reason it brought a sting of tears.
Charlie gave Levi a pained look. “I ain’t no chore boy.”
Levi leaned back on the side of the pen and gave his cousin a steady look. “Nothing wrong with good honest work.”
“This is squaw work.”
Levi’s laugh lacked mirth. “Not here. Big Sam says it’s man’s work.”
“Don’t see him doing it, though.” Charlie stood. “I’m done here.”
Levi straightened. “Not until you’ve stripped her. I don’t want her going dry. We need the milk. Finish the job.”
Beatrice looked from one to the other as the words that made no sense hung about in her brain looking for something to connect to. Charlie looked ready to explode. Levi’s expression was hard. What would he do if Charlie disobeyed his order?
Looking rebellious, Charlie sat on the little stool again and returned to milking until no more hit the pail. “Happy now?” He pushed past Beatrice.
“Take it to the cookhouse and take care of it.”
Muttering under his breath, Charlie stomped from the barn.
Levi took off his cowboy hat and dragged his fingers through his hair. “Sometimes I wonder if he’s worth the effort.”
A shiver raced down Beatrice’s spine. Did he think the same of her? Not worth the effort? She drew herself up to her tallest and faced Levi. “Is anyone who can’t do the things you do considered not worth the effort?”
His dark eyes were bottomless, revealing nothing, though the way he crossed his arms over his chest made her think he was prepared to defend his view. “It isn’t that he can’t do the chores I’ve assigned him. It’s that he doesn’t care to make the effort. He believes chores are beneath him. For that reason I find him difficult to deal with.” His gaze bored into hers. “I believe in an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay.”
She floundered to think what that meant to her. She didn’t expect to be paid, didn’t want to be. “Maybe he’s doing the best he can.”
He unwound from his position at the fence. “If I thought that I would be happy. But Charlie is capable of doing almost anything he puts his mind to. Come along, I’ll show you the cookhouse.” He paused at the doorway, retrieving the slop bucket where he’d left it. “That is, if you’re interested.”
“Yes, I am. I want to see everything.” She might have told him she found it fascinating to see life at its roots, but he seemed cross so she kept the words to herself and accompanied him across the yard to a low building. They stepped inside and she stopped to take it in. To one side, there was a long wooden table with backless wooden benches on either side. Hooks on the wall next to the door held a variety of items—bits of leather, furry leggings and two soiled hats. To the other side was an enormous black stove, a long wooden counter and pots, pans, crocks and kitchen utensils of every size and kind. Apart from that, the room was bare of any sort of decoration. The windows lacked curtains. The only bright color in the whole place was the red rim of some of the granite pots.
“What do you think?” Levi asked.
She closed her eyes and drenched her senses, then she opened her eyes and told him her impressions. “The room is sparse.” She pointed out the lack of color. “But the air is alive with spices and warmth. I smell apple pie, gingersnaps, chocolate pudding. I smell mashed potatoes in a huge bowl, fried chicken and tomato sauce rich with basil and oregano. It’s like walking into an open market with a hundred things cooking at the same time.”
His laughter rumbled. “Soupy would be pleased you can’t smell dirty boots and manly sweat.”
She opened her eyes and grinned. “There might be a touch of that, as well.” Why was it she felt trapped by his gaze when he smiled like that? As if the rest of the world had slipped away and left them standing there alone? And when had she ever had such fanciful thoughts? Certainly not with Henry, whom she’d loved, and never with the young men her father presented as suitable.
Levi turned his attention to the room. “Charlie has left the milk.” Every trace of humor had disappeared from his voice and a cold chill crossed Beatrice’s shoulders.
“I’ll have to do it. You don’t need to wait if you don’t want.” He started a fire in the stove and filled a kettle with water from the pump at the sink.
The bucket of milk stood on the wide counter. Levi pulled out a jug and draped a white cloth over it.
Curious as to what he meant to do, she said, “I’ll wait and watch if you don’t mind.”
His eyebrows arched as if uncertain what to think of her answer. “I don’t mind.” He poured the milk through the cloth until the jug was full, then covered it with another cloth that he dampened in cold water. “Normally Soupy would use most of the milk. We use a little at the house. But with him and the cowboys away, we don’t need it all. The rest will go to the pigs.” He rinsed the straining cloth then filled a basin with boiling water and rinsed it again.
He took the milk bucket to the door and set it down. “Maybe Charlie will stir himself to take this to the pigs.” He looked around for his cousin. “He’ll be trying to find a bottle about now.”
Beatrice couldn’t decide if Levi sounded condescending or worried, so she made no comment.
He hung the straining cloth to dry, took the jug of milk and the empty slop bucket and escorted her back to the house.
“I was getting concerned when you were gone so long but I see I shouldn’t have been,” Maisie said. “You were with Levi.”
“I’m sorry to make you worry.” She’d be more conscious of Maisie in the future.
“I’ll hang about while Beatrice changes your dressing, in case she needs anything,” Levi said.
Beatrice’s insides stiffened. The last thing she needed or wanted was to have Levi watching while she tackled a job she didn’t know how to do. Her spine grew rigid. Her hands curled into fists. She would do this and whatever else she must learn in order to make her own way in life.
* * *
Levi struggled to sort out his thoughts. What was there about Beatrice that kept him off balance? He wanted to see her as a city girl. Unfit for ranch life. And she was. But she was more. Or was she less? He wished he could decide.
He’d expected her to grimace when she stepped into the barn. Instead, she’d been intrigued by the odors and even managed to make them seem pleasant. Yes, she’d been put off by the smell of pigs, but he didn’t know anyone who wasn’t. And wouldn’t Soupy have been amazed at her assessment of the cookhouse? A hundred cook fires at the same time. It gave him a mental picture that made his mouth water.
He shook his head, hoping to clear his thoughts. All that mattered to him was that Beatrice took care of Maisie and that Charlie stayed out of trouble.
How did he manage to get both Charlie and Beatrice here at the same time? He couldn’t possibly be in two places at once.
“Ma, can I help you to your room?” She was able to hop about, but he preferred she didn’t cross to her bedroom on her own.
Maisie looked from Beatrice to Levi. “It’s too early for Beatrice to retire. What will she do if I go to bed now?”
“I’ll take her for a walk down to the river if she likes.” He’d said the words without thinking and now that they were out, they couldn’t be pulled back.
“I’d like that,” Beatrice said.
Maisie nodded. “Then I’ll prepare for bed and Beatrice can tend to my dressing.”
Before she could struggle to her feet, Levi jumped forward and helped her upright. He’d pick her up and carry her, but Maisie would fight him so he settled for holding her firmly as they left the kitchen and crossed the living room. He threw back the covers, eased her to the bed and lifted her injured leg, then stepped back, loathe to leave her to Beatrice’s inexperienced hands.
Beatrice eased forward.
Ma must have sensed her uneasiness. Though she could hardly miss the way Beatrice wrung her hands and the way she chewed her bottom lip.
Ma spoke softly to her. “Don’t look so frightened.”
Beatrice nodded but didn’t relax.
Maisie smiled. “Why don’t you tell me the sort of things you did to amuse yourself as a child?”
She got a faraway look in her eyes. “I read lots. Did needlework. I’m quite good at it, actually.” Her smile was faintly apologetic.
“Didn’t you play?”
She shifted her gaze toward the window. “I was taught a young lady should properly conduct herself with decorum.”
Levi had no idea what that meant, but Beatrice made it sound as if she was not allowed to enjoy normal childhood play.
Maisie put into words Levi’s thoughts. “Maybe here you can learn life is meant to be enjoyed.”
Beatrice smiled and the tension slipped from her eyes. “I’ve already seen glimpses of that.”
Levi wanted to ask for specifics. Was he part of what she had enjoyed?
But she stepped forward. “Now let me tend your dressing.” The look she gave Levi dismissed him from the room.
His neck burned. He had no intention of seeing his stepmother with her petticoats pulled up to reveal her legs. “I’ll be in the other room if you need anything.” He closed the door behind him as he left the room, but stayed in the front room, his head turned toward the bedroom in case Maisie called for his assistance.
He heard Maisie’s calm voice, but he could not make out her words. He thought he heard Beatrice although he couldn’t be certain and took a step toward the door. Then he stopped. No need to press his ear to the door. If Maisie needed him, she’d let him know.
His thoughts wandered as he waited, searching for a place to put Beatrice in his mind. She was a city girl but anxious to be on her own. What did that mean? From a rich family but expressing pleasure at the simple things of ranch life. Light and easy in his arms. But a classy white lady.
She simply did not fit into any of his classifications. And that left him unsettled, wondering if she had the same problem trying to see where he fit.
It was obvious he was a half-breed.
She had no such problem.
Maisie’s oft-spoken words echoed in his head. “Boys, there will always be those who say things about you. Hearing them say it doesn’t make it true. You don’t have to believe what they say about you.”
He tried not to believe what others said. But Helen had taught him one thing he would never forget. What others believed about him did make a difference. In the way they treated him, whether or not they were willing to associate with him or even be seen with him.
The doorknob rattled and Beatrice stepped out carrying a basin of water and some soiled rags.
He sprang forward. How had his thoughts gotten so far off track? Was he trying to convince himself that Beatrice was like Helen? The idea condemned him. If he wanted to be judged on his own merits—not his heritage—shouldn’t he be willing to offer her the same consideration? “How does her leg look?”
The water in the basin sloshed and he took it from Beatrice’s trembling hands. “Are you okay?”
“She did very well,” Maisie called. “Now take her out for some fresh air.”
Fresh air? He’d detected no odor. “Your leg is infected?” He set the basin on the closest hard surface, pushing a stack of books out of the way to make room for it, and hurried to her side.
“Levi, will you stop fussing. No, my leg isn’t infected. But remember it’s Beatrice’s first time at dealing with a wound. It’s been a little challenging for her.” Maisie lifted her head to look at Beatrice. “You did very well.”
“I was so afraid of hurting you.” Beatrice’s voice quavered.
“You were very gentle. Thank you.” Maisie squeezed Levi’s hands. “Take her out for a walk. Get her to relax.”
“Yes, Ma.” It never entered Levi’s mind to refuse until he had cleaned out the washbasin and set the soiled rags to soak in cold water.
Why had he offered to take her for walk, told Maisie he would do so, as well? It wasn’t as if they had any intention of becoming friends. She was a city girl. He was country to the core and proud of it.
But she had taken care of Maisie and that was all that mattered.
He had agreed to escort her on a walk and when he said something he generally meant to keep his word.
She stared at the cupboard, though he could see nothing to hold her interest.
“Are you ready?” he asked her.
She started and drew in a sharp breath. “For what?”
“A walk?” Had she not heard Maisie’s suggestion? Had she forgotten his offer? His eyes narrowed as he studied her.
Or was it his company she objected to?
But she followed him out the door and fell in step at his side as they followed the trail through the trees to the river. For several minutes before they stepped into a clearing they heard the murmur of moving water. Water flashed silver and blue, highlighted with gold from the lowering sun. The rain had freshened the air.
Levi held out his arm to signal her to stop. He could have saved himself the effort. She hadn’t moved since they reached the edge of the trees.
He pointed to the right, to the huddle of ducklings following in the mother duck’s wake. “Oh,” she gasped involuntarily.
The duck turned, raced the babies into the shelter of some reeds and flew away.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. She looked past him. Her eyes widened.
“Levi, look.”
At the sharp note in her voice, he turned slowly, thinking how foolish he was to bring her out here without a gun to defend her.
He saw no wild animal. No wild man. “What is it?”
“Look in the shadows of that rock.” She pointed.
He squinted to bring the object into focus. He blinked and stared, speechless.
“It’s a child,” Beatrice whispered.
“I see that, but what is it doing out here all alone?”
