Linda Ford - The Cowboy Father

“I hope you’re going to let Louisa help Ellie.”

His aunt’s voice thankfully jerked him back from the dark trail his thoughts headed down. He turned to meet her intent look.

“She’s a good person.”

“She starts tomorrow.”

“Good for you. I was afraid you’d see her pretty face and immediately count her out.”

“Now, why would you think that?” He purposely kept his voice soft. Sometimes Auntie May responded better to a gentle warning.

But not always.

“I know you, boy. You’ve been hurt too many times. And now you’ve locked your feelings in a deep vault someplace.”

How wrong she was. Not that he hadn’t tried exactly that. But he’d failed miserably. He’d never felt anything as deeply, as frighteningly real as when he’d found Ellie hurt. “My feelings are not buried. I care about Ellie. So much it hurts.”

A cat jumped to a table next to Auntie May and leaned over in an attempt to get her attention. Several things clattered to the floor.

Auntie May scooped up the cat and retrieved the fallen objects. “I don’t mean Ellie. Of course you love her. She’s your flesh and blood. But don’t you think she needs a mother? Just as you need a wife—a partner?”

“I’ve already tried that, remember? And it ended with Jane dying.” Like everyone he cared for. His parents. Even his pet dog. “Ellie is enough for me.”

“She can’t be, you know. A man needs a wife.”

He snorted. “This from a woman who never married.” He considered her. “Are you saying you regret that?”

She chortled. “I have you and Ellie. And my pets.” She scrubbed the heads of four cats sitting at her feet. Then she gave him a look full of both challenge and regret. “I loved once.”

“You did? What happened?”

She shrugged and buried her face in the fur of the gray cat in her arms. Seemed the animal was the favored of the bunch, or perhaps the most demanding, as it always ended up being held. “Didn’t work out.”

“Why?” In the dozen or so years he’d lived here, she’d never once hinted she had loved someone. Nor expressed regrets at being single. Did the man die? Seems death stole a lot of people.

“I’ve been happy. Nothing to complain about, but take it from me. Cats aren’t the same as humans.”

“No kidding.”

“They’re more loyal for the most part, however.”

Emmet considered the statement. Had Auntie May’s love interest been disloyal? The idea only reinforced his decision. “Auntie, I’m sorry your love didn’t work out. But you say you’ve been happy. That’s more than many can claim, and likely all any of us can expect. I’m content with my life. I have Ellie and you.” He bent to pat two furry heads. “And the cats.”

“I always wanted more for you. I wanted you to have the things I didn’t.”

“You’re sweet, but I had a wife. She died. But she gave me a daughter. Do I deserve anything more?”

“I don’t know what any of us deserves, but God, in His mercy, blesses us anyway. My concern is you’ve shut your heart to more. Likely wouldn’t take it, even if God sent it your way.”

Emmet didn’t want to argue with her. Didn’t have an argument to offer. He had all he wanted. Anything else would only invite more pain. Auntie May was right. He had barred his heart.

A crash rattled from the kitchen. No, it was Ellie’s room. Had she fallen? Hurt herself while he stood two rooms away making silly conversation? He would never forgive himself if—

He crossed the room in long strides and hurried to her bedside, Auntie May at his heels.

Ellie’s covers were rumpled, but other than that she looked in one piece.

“What was that racket?” he demanded.

Auntie May continued past the bed. “I’d say this would explain the noise.” She held up the shattered base of a lamp. “Now, I wonder how that ended up on the floor.”

“I bumped it,” Ellie said, “trying to get something to play with.” She put on a pretty pout. “Daddy, you said you’d come back and play with me.”

“I was on my way.” He shouldn’t have lingered talking to his aunt about things that didn’t matter.

“I’ll clean this up.” Auntie May brought a broom and dustpan from the kitchen. “You go ahead and amuse your daughter.”

“Thanks.” He caught Ellie’s eyes and tilted his head toward his aunt, silently signaling her.

Ellie smiled sweetly. “I’m sorry for breaking your lamp, Auntie May.”

“Goodness, child. Don’t you fret about it. Accidents happen.”

His daughter made him proud. “What would you like to do?”

“Ride my pony.”

He chuckled. “I guess you would, but how do you think he’d feel with a big white stiff body on his back? Wouldn’t he be frightened?”

Ellie giggled. “He’d kneel down and dump me off.”

“I expect he would.”

“Is that lady going to be my teacher?”

“Miss Morgan? She’s coming with lessons tomorrow.”

“Do I have to do schoolwork? Please don’t make me.”

He hated doing so, but surely it was the best thing for her. “It will help you pass the time and you’ll be able to keep up with your friends at school.”

“But Daddy, all my friends are where we used to live. I have no friends here.” Her bottom lip quivered. “Why did we have to move?”

“I’m sorry, Button. But I couldn’t take care of you and run the ranch.”

“Betsy could look after me.”

Anger surged up his throat at how Betsy had looked after his daughter. He’d arrived home early to find Ellie on the ground, screaming in pain with a broken leg and Betsy absent. She’d gone to a nearby homesteader’s place—a single man—and left Ellie on her own. From all accounts, not an unusual occurrence. Seemed he was the last to discover it. Shouldn’t he have been the first? “I didn’t much care for the way Betsy watched you.”

“Miss Morgan is very pretty, isn’t she?”

Far too pretty to be single. But that mattered not to him in the least. “She’s passable, I suppose.”

Auntie May, mussing about in the kitchen, snorted loudly. Emmet chose to ignore it.

“You might like her better than me.”

“Oh, Ellie.” He pulled a stool close to her side and cradled her in his arms as best as the body cast allowed. “I will never like anyone better than you. Not so long as I live.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” He held her close a moment longer, then she squirmed free.

“Tell me a story.”

“I’m not much good at storytelling.”

“Tell me about Grandma and Grandpa.”

He sucked in air. All she knew was they had died when he was nine. He never talked about them. It was another life. This was his life now. “How about if I tell you about the night you were born?”

“Okay.” She sounded less than enthusiastic. Perhaps because she’d heard the story before.

So he tried to up the drama and suspense of that long-ago night when the doctor had come in the middle of an October snowstorm and the electricity had gone off. His little daughter had been delivered by flickering lamplight. And he’d fallen smash, dash in love with his tiny girl. “I loved you from your first breath, and I will love you until my last breath.” He squeezed her gently.

Ellie giggled. “Daddy, you’re silly.”

“Silly about you.”

“Then you won’t make me do schoolwork?”

Emmet laughed, pleased at her wily ways. “You’ll still have to do schoolwork.” He scooped up the gray cat and put it on the bed beside Ellie. “You play with the cat while I do some chores.” He didn’t intend to sit around and let Auntie May do everything. He’d noticed a number of neglected things he planned to take care of while he was here.