The Cowboy's City Girl

Together they tiptoed to the door. He snagged a jacket from the nearby hook and draped it over her shoulders as they stepped outside. The night was cool and damp and filled with the scent of roses. Or was that Beatrice’s unique scent? It must have been because he couldn’t remember ever being so aware of the roses filling the air with their perfume before.

She turned to him, her features barely visible in the dark. He shifted so the glow from the window allowed him to see her face.

“Did you find them?” Her question jolted him back to reality.

He sought to find the right words. But how else could he say it but just say it? “I found the wagon a few miles away.” He drew in a deep breath. “A man and a woman were dead inside.”

She gasped. Her eyes widened.

Fearing she would faint again, he caught her shoulders and steadied her.

“She’s an orphan? How awful. She tried to tell me.” The truth of the situation flooded her eyes with horror. “She was with them? How long have they been gone?”

He told her everything he knew. “It looks like they died of the influenza. The sheriff agreed. I took the wagon to town, where he arranged for a quick burial. He examined the contents of the wagon. Dolly is Dorothy Knott. The sheriff discovered information that she has an aunt Martha in Ohio and will send a telegram in the morning. The aunt will take care of Dolly once she can make arrangements.”

Beatrice shuddered. “The poor child. I keep thinking of her watching her parents die, being so alone and not knowing what to do. Oh, Levi, it’s too awful to think about.”

At her agonized wail, he gripped her arms and she squeezed his. They held each other. He found comfort in her arms and hoped she found the same in his. Two people who barely knew each other united in their concern for an orphaned child.

“What’s to become of her in the meantime?” Beatrice’s voice was muffled.

“The sheriff suggested someone in town could care for her until her aunt arrives, but it didn’t take him long to realize everyone was dealing with either illness or death. He asked if she could stay here for now.”

“You said yes?”

He inhaled the scent of roses, letting the smell soothe his senses. “I said it wasn’t up to me.”

She drew back and looked into his face. “Who is it up to?” Her eyes searched his for the answer.

He didn’t say anything but she must have read the answer in his face.

“Me? Why is it up to me?”

“You’ll be the one responsible for her. You already have Maisie to care for and the house to run.”

She stepped back. “And you don’t think I can manage Dolly, as well?”

The thought had crossed his mind. She admittedly lacked experience. “Are you familiar with caring for a child so young?”