Why had Dawson never heard before that his grandmother was a city woman? Was Grandfather making it up? But he’d never known the old man to be anything but painfully honest.
He said nothing more, though he could tell Grandfather would have liked to discuss it further. No doubt he would have liked to point out how well Grandmother had adjusted. That was a different era. Grandmother might have been raised in the city but likely had learned how to work.
Tomorrow, he’d make arrangements for someone to care for Mattie.
* * *
The next day, he arrived a little early for school and waited at the door for the students to arrive. The oldest girl was Tom Shearer’s daughter, Kitty. Far as he could remember of what he’d heard, the girl would be perhaps thirteen. He’d seen her often enough, thought her rather placid, frequently at the tail end of a group of kids. But she would be old enough to watch Mattie.
She approached now and he called her. She jerked to a halt and stared. “Oh, hi, Mr. Marshall.”
“Hi, Kitty. I wonder if you might take Mattie home with you after school until it’s time for me to leave. I’d pay you a few cents. You can ask your mama at noon if it’s okay.”
The information seemed to seep in slowly and then she nodded. “Sure. Ma won’t mind.”
He turned to Mattie. “You go home with Kitty after school and I’ll pick you up there. Okay?”
“Okay.” Mattie skipped away cheerfully, Kitty plodding along behind her.
Dawson stared after the pair. He’d expected resistance on Mattie’s part, so this quick compliance was a pleasant surprise.
Relieved that his problem was solved, he returned to work on the school.
* * *
Isabelle spent the day pretending she didn’t hear men working next door. And if she glanced in that direction when she went outside for something, it was only because she liked to see the progress on the building. When the time came for the children to be released from school, she hurried to the window overlooking the street, hoping for a glimpse of little Mattie. The girl had stolen her heart. It hurt to know Dawson didn’t want her to spend time with his daughter.
She watched as one by one, or in groups of two or more, the children ran from the store, laughing and calling to each other.
The rush ended but she hadn’t seen Mattie. Had she missed the child? Or did she remain at the store with her great-uncle?
She began to turn away when the door opened again and Mattie exited in the company of an older girl. Mattie chattered away. The older girl nodded once or twice but seemed bored with Mattie’s conversation.
Isabelle thought of the jar of cookies. Kate and her father had certainly appreciated them, but how she longed to share them with a child.
It was not to be and she turned her attention to supper preparation, though some of the joy of serving the Bakers had leaked out of the work.
She had potatoes prepared to cook, carrots scraped and a jar of canned meat from the amply supplied pantry ready to heat when banging on the door surprised her. She opened it. “Dawson, you startled me.”
“Is she here?”
She shrank back from the anger in his voice. She guessed he must mean Mattie but she could be mistaken. “Who are you looking for?”
“Mattie, of course.” He pulled open the door and strode in without waiting for an invite.
She stood back and watched him, wary of his ire.
He glanced around the kitchen, saw Mattie wasn’t there and tramped through to the sitting room. Of course, she wasn’t there either, and he faced her, a scowl darkening his features. “Is she in your bedroom?”
Her cheeks burned. The man was far too bold and overbearing. “She isn’t here. Why would you think she is?”
He scrubbed at his chin. “I don’t know what to think. She never acted like this before you—” He seemed to think better of finishing his sentence.
“Before I came?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Didn’t need to. His eyes said it all. “You’re blaming me for her behavior?” Her anger flared to match his. “I’ve spent only a matter of hours with her. You’ve spent six years with her. How could I have that much influence?”
“I don’t know.” He didn’t shout but it felt like he had.
“I can see you’re upset about something. Perhaps if you told me why, I could help.”
“How?”
She understood what he didn’t say. What could she—a city woman—do in any situation out here in the West? But she wouldn’t let him know how much his judgment hurt. “I don’t know. Maybe I could say who I saw her with. Or at least defend myself.” Her calm exterior seemed to get through to him and he let out a blast of air as if he’d forgotten to breathe.
“Who did you see her with and when?”
She described the older girl. “They left the store when school let out.”
“That’s Kitty. I arranged for her to watch Mattie after school so I could work. We need to get the school built as soon as possible,” he said as if defending himself.
She saw no need to say otherwise because she agreed.
He continued. “When I went to Kitty’s parents’ house to pick her up, Kitty was in her room reading. She came out when her mother called. I asked where Mattie was and Kitty looked surprised, like she’d forgotten she was supposed to watch her. She said, ‘I guess she went to find you.’ But she isn’t at the school, so I thought she might have come here.” He groaned and grabbed the back of the nearest chair as if he might collapse without its support.
Mattie was missing! Isabelle couldn’t help but recall the child playing in the street the day of her arrival. Was this how she was cared for? And yet he saw Isabelle as a danger to his child?
“Sit down and let’s think about where she might have gone.”
He sank to the chair. His hands dangled between his knees.
Dawson looked so dejected, she longed to offer him comfort, assure him she shared his concern about his daughter, but she guessed he wouldn’t welcome it, so she sat across the table.
“Where would she go in town? Perhaps to some friends?”
“I suppose she might have gone to visit a friend.” His head came up and his eyes found hers, his full of despair. She hoped hers offered comfort and encouragement.
“I need to go see.”
She felt his worry clear through her body. It tensed every muscle, stung every nerve. “Do you want me to come and help you look?” Not that she could offer much in the way of assistance, but a missing six-year-old was frightening. She couldn’t allow herself to even think of what might have happened to her.
Hope filled his eyes, replaced quickly with doubt and uncertainty and then hardness.
She knew before he answered what he’d say.
“I’ll manage on my own. But thanks for the offer.” He pushed to his feet.
Even though she’d expected his reply, the words still hurt. She schooled her face to reveal nothing of what she felt. “If she happens to show up here, I’ll keep her until you return.”
He hesitated before he murmured, “Thanks.”
She stood in the doorway as he left, his long legs eating up the distance. She watched until he was out of sight. Still she stared down the street, praying Mattie was safe and sound, had simply been distracted