She tipped her head in acknowledgment. “Thank you but I cannot accept or decline until I consult with Dr. Baker and Kate as to a method of conveyance.”
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll take you all there.”
She nodded. “Then if it suits the others, I accept. Thank you.” She stood before him, her hands folded, that silly scarf caught between her palms. Smooth as a kitten’s fur. Though he wasn’t sure if he meant the scarf. Or her manners. Or something else entirely.
He slid his gaze past her shoulder. “Where might I find Miss Young?”
The schoolteacher descended the stairs. “Are you seeking me?”
He extended the same invitation to her then hurried outside, where he filled his lungs with cool mountain air.
“Are you okay, Papa?” Mattie asked.
He settled his mind. Of course he was fine. Never again would a beautiful unsuitable woman be allowed to upset his world. He would ignore Grandfather’s matchmaking plans because he didn’t need or want a wife, and despite Mattie’s fascination with Isabelle, he knew she would be most unsuitable.
Isabelle couldn’t help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Marshall and his daughter. Not that she tried very hard to ignore them. There was something appealing about the big man bending over his little girl. She was such a pretty thing and yet it seemed she wasn’t certain of it. How sweet to hear him remind her it was her inner qualities that mattered.
Those words made her press her lips together as a great yearning emptied her insides of every rational thought. Her mother and father had likewise doted on her. Cousin Augusta was genuinely fond and caring. Why couldn’t it be enough? Oh, Father God, why do I search for more when I have Your love? If only she could persuade herself it was all she needed.
Dawson Marshall and little Mattie left the hotel. Isabelle watched them standing on the sidewalk outside. He bent low to hear something Mattie said. And Isabelle’s chest grew tight. She rubbed at her breastbone.
Sadie joined her at the window. “Does that man frighten you as much as he frightens me?”
What an odd thing to say. “Frighten isn’t the word I’d use.” Intrigue? Confuse? How silly. Of course he didn’t confuse her.
“Really?” Sadie continued as they watched the man and his daughter. “He’s so big and I get the feeling he’ll tolerate no nonsense.”
“Maybe.” Isabelle didn’t see that as a negative. “He’s certainly fond of his little girl.”
Sadie agreed. “I wouldn’t want to do anything he might construe as harmful to her.”
“But you surely wouldn’t.”
“Not intentionally. But I have learned that parents often have a different view of things than a lowly teacher.”
At least Sadie had a place in society as a teacher. Though Isabelle did, too—as the heiress. Not a position she cared for. Her resolve returned. She intended to find for herself a role that proved her usefulness. A sigh eased past her lips at the enormity of the task.
Across the street, Mattie and her father stepped into the doctor’s house and Isabelle shuddered. She must conquer her feelings about sickrooms if she meant to help Kate and her father. Unless...
She turned back to Sadie. “When will you start teaching?”
Sadie wrinkled her nose. “I have no idea. The school isn’t built yet. The clerk over there—” she indicated the man at the desk watching them curiously “—says the town plans to start work on the new school next week. Says it won’t take long to complete with many hands on deck.” The way Sadie said it, Isabelle knew she quoted the man. “I don’t know what I’m expected to do while I wait.”
The poor girl rocked her head back and forth.
“I’m sorry.” So much for thinking she could help with the teaching. Lord, there must be something I can do to prove my usefulness. She’d keep her eyes and ears open. In the meantime...
“Supper. The evening meal.” She’d learned the correct terminology in the days it took to arrive at Bella Creek. “What does one wear?”
Sadie chuckled. “From my limited experience I would say most ranch families don’t dress in evening wear for the meal. What you’re wearing is fine.”
“Oh, but I’m all dusty from traveling. I must change.” Her trunks had been carried to the doctor’s house and she hurried across the street. In her haste she rushed through the door and straight into the chest of Dawson Marshall. She staggered backward.
Dawson grabbed her arm and steadied her. “Begging your pardon, miss.”
She shook her head. “My fault. I apologize.” His fingers burned a trail straight to her heart. No, that wasn’t possible. Putting a healthy distance between them, she pulled her thoughts together.
“Come, Mattie. We have things to do. I’ll be back in an hour to take you to the ranch.” Dawson practically dragged the child away, leaving Isabelle as out of breath as if she’d run the full length of the rutted street. She folded her hands together as a war of emotions raged through her. The certainty that Dawson did not approve of her. Determination to fit in. A chance to prove she had more to offer than a sizable inheritance. She would prove it once and for all.
She glanced about at the stacks of crates and travel bags. This would be the sitting room. The wine-colored sofa would fit nicely against the far wall, allowing a view out the windows—two faced the street, and another revealed the side view of ashes and bare ground. There were two armchairs. They should be placed between the front windows allowing good light for reading. A small stove warmed the room.
Doing her best not to think of the motherless Mattie and her doting father, Isabelle wandered through to the kitchen with its table and chairs, cupboards and a shiny stove radiating heat. Someone had wanted them to feel welcome. Or at least they meant to welcome Kate and her father, seeing as they hadn’t known she’d arrive with them. What would their opinion have been if they’d known? Some would immediately plan how many worthy projects they could persuade her to donate to. Others would be ready to dislike her solely because she had more money—much more money—than they. Very few would welcome her for no other reason than she was a young lady with a desire to prove she had something to offer other than her inheritance.
She stepped to a little room off the kitchen—a pantry that held only a few empty containers. Good thing they weren’t expected to make supper for themselves tonight.
There was something she could do right now...start organizing this household.
By the time Kate returned to the living quarters, Isabelle had put the dishes in the kitchen cupboard, a cloth upon the table with a lamp in the center, and a kettle full of water on the stove should anyone want tea.
“Wow. You’ve been busy,” Kate said with an approving look. “I appreciate your help.”
“It’s the least I can do. You’re in there helping your father. I surely want to do more than sit around and look ornamental.”
Kate chuckled. “Whether you sit or scrub dishes, you can’t help but be ornamental.”
“Far better to be useful. Here, help me move these things.” With Kate’s help, they rearranged the furniture in the sitting room and carried the trunks to the appropriate rooms.
Dr. Baker stepped from his office and sank wearily into the nearest chair. “I’m about spent. I wish we weren’t expected to go out this evening.”