The Cowboy Father

All this to teach Ellie a little reading, writing and ’rithmetic? He stepped outside. “Can I give you a hand with those things?”

She sent him a smile full of gratitude that sneaked through his defenses and delivered a king-size wallop to a spot behind his heart.

He sank a mental fist into the area and pushed it into oblivion. “Seems you’re serious about this tutoring business.”

She laughed. Music seemed to fill the air. He glanced around to see if a door was open, if someone was playing the piano. All doors were closed. He shifted his gaze to the trees. Birds sang an accompaniment to the sound. He concluded the music came from Louisa’s laugh. “I like to do a good job.”

“I’ll take the bag. It looks heavy.” He grunted as he hoisted it from the ground. “Did you bring bricks?”

Another musical chuckle. “Just books. Some Adele—Miss Ross—loaned from the school and some I brought from home.” She tucked the longer pieces of wood under one arm and tried to tackle the bigger piece, but it was almost as big as she.

“I’ll take that. What is it?”

She turned it to show the other side. “A blackboard. My brother-in-law, Judd, made this tripod. See, the legs extend so I can write on the board then raise it so Ellie can see it from her position in bed. Isn’t that clever?”

“Oh, very.”

She chuckled. It seemed everything amused her, pleased her.

Obviously, he thought with a shade of bitterness, she had not encountered major difficulties in her life.

They struggled toward the house and dropped the items on the floor.

“Is that all?”

“Yes. Thanks for helping.”

They stood in the doorway to catch their breath. “We sure need rain.” Clever conversation, Emmet mocked himself. But what did it matter? He was only being polite.

“Rain, an end to grasshoppers, better commodity prices. So many things. I know my sister thinks the government should fix the country’s problems, but I prefer to trust God. He’ll change things when He sees fit. In the meantime, I will trust Him for my daily needs.”

Her faith sounded nice. But would she trust if everything she valued was snatched away? Would she say God was treating her fairly? Would her faith falter? But he didn’t want to talk about trials and how they affected one’s faith. His own hung on by a tiny thread. “I neglected to ask about your family. Do you come from a large one? Tell me about them.”

“I have two younger sisters. Madge is a year younger. She married Judd last fall. Sally is two years younger. She lives at home as do I, with our mother.” She paused a beat then went on. “My father died four years ago. I still miss him.” Her voice thickened.

Emmet stilled an urge to squeeze her shoulder. “My parents died eighteen years ago and I still miss them.”

“Oh.” Her lips formed a little circle, and her eyes widened. “I thought it would get easier with time.”

“It gets easier. Just never goes away.”

“I remember him at the silliest times. A certain hymn will bring tears to my eyes. Or the smell of molasses cookies, which he loved. Or—” She shrugged. “I suppose it’s the same for you.”

It was a question, even though she didn’t voice it as one. But he remembered very little about his parents. “I leave it in the past.”

Her eyes widened even more. “You mean you purposely try to forget about them?” She didn’t wait for an answer but provided her own. “Although I miss my father, I wouldn’t want to forget him or all the wonderful memories I have. Nor the lessons he taught.”

“I suppose time has dulled my memories.” He didn’t want to dwell on it any longer. “You must have moved to this area after I left.”

“We bought the farm two miles from town eight years ago.”

“Ah. I left nine years ago.”

“Daddy!” Ellie’s voice wailed through the house.

Emmet chuckled. “She’s been waiting patiently all morning. Seems her patience has run out.” He again picked up the bag and board and trooped through to Ellie’s room. Several cats, seeing the unfamiliar items, hissed. Two backed into a corner and continued to hiss and arch their backs. Four skidded from the room.

Ellie laughed. “Scaredy-cats.” But her laughter died and her eyes grew wary at all the equipment Emmet and Louisa dragged in.

“Where do you want this?” Emmet indicated the blackboard.

Louisa looked around. Stood beside the bed. At the end and then on the side farthest from the door. “This would be ideal—” Except for the bookshelf, the table and the wooden chair in the room, all of which were loaded with Auntie May’s belongings.

“I’ll move this stuff out of the way.” He shoved it into the far corner, crowding the china cabinet. “Auntie May doesn’t believe in throwing things out.”

He wondered at the way the sunshine left Louisa’s face and her eyes grew stormy.

“I suppose she finds comfort in being surrounded by familiar objects.” She kept her back to him as she cleared the top of the table and lifted the bag onto it, but he thought he detected a tightness in her voice he hadn’t noticed before. He put it down to tension at getting the room organized for teaching.

He set up the tripod, adjusted the blackboard on it then stepped back. “Looks like everything is set. I’ll leave you to it.” He edged toward the door, reluctant to leave them.

“Daddy, where are you going?” Ellie reached out, as if to stop him.

“I’ll be close by. If you need me, you only have to call.” The door was inches away, but he didn’t step through.

“We’ll be fine,” Louisa murmured, then pulled a reader from the bag and directed her attention to Ellie. “Miss Ross sent the whole set of grade-two readers so you can show me which ones you can read.”

Ellie sent Emmet a look rife with pleading and accusation. He hoped she would understand he was only doing what was best for her.

But she understood the knowledge would provide poor comfort.

Chapter Three

Louisa watched Emmet’s departure, feeling the same frightening desperation she heard in Ellie’s voice. Don’t leave us. I don’t know what I’m doing. Adele had laid out the lessons and told her what to expect. “The first thing to remember is the child may be resistant to the whole idea of having to do schoolwork while in bed. Find a way to pique her interest and curiosity.”

Sounded so easy when Adele said it. But she could do this. Louisa drew a brave breath and began. “First, I’d like you to tell me what things you like. That way we can make your lessons as interesting as possible.”

Ellie gave her a stubborn stare. “Can you bring my pony so I can ride?”

Louisa laughed softly. “I think that is outside my power. What games do you like?”

“Hide-and-seek. Racing. Climbing trees. We can’t do that either, I suppose.” Ellie boldly challenged Louisa with her words and her expression.

“You’re quite right. So let’s think of something you can do and enjoy.”

The child made a most unladylike sound. “There isn’t anything to enjoy while I’m stuck in bed.”

“Do you like reading?”