The Cowboy's City Girl. Linda Ford

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?”