Linda Ford - The Cowboy's City Girl

Beatrice stared, fascinated as the pigs buried their snouts in the trough, not caring if they stepped on each other. She shook her head. “Pigs are...well, pigs.”

Laughter rumbled from Levi, drawing her gaze to him. How his eyes danced, and his face crinkled in a friendly sort of way. Just because she called a pig a pig?

She turned back to the animals. “They’re noisy, rude and loud. And they stink.”

More rumbling laughter. “Johnny says he thanks God he wasn’t born a pig.”

That brought a burst of laughter from Beatrice. Her eyes connected with his and something sweet filled the air. She couldn’t remember a time she had shared real, honest amusement with a man. It caused her insides to bounce up and down...not an unpleasant sensation. She reminded herself not to stare, but despite her admonition she could not break the look between them.

He shifted his gaze first, letting it go toward the house. “Have you done Maisie’s dressing yet?”

Her thoughts jarred back to the reason she was here. Changing the dressing was not a task she looked forward to. She had not a clue how to tackle the job. “No, I just finished cleaning the kitchen.” She turned to retrace her steps.

Levi fell into step with her. They reached the barn. She welcomed the chance to shift her thoughts to something else. “I thought there would be horses and cows in the pens.”

“The horses are out with the men at the moment except for those we need for getting around and Pa’s breeding stock.” He pointed toward the animals in the pasture. “He has big plans for expanding our bloodlines into something that will make the Sundown Ranch horses more desirable than the average horse. We seldom keep cows in the pens. They are out grazing. Except for the milk cow. Do you want to see her?”

“Is she friendly?”

He grinned. “She won’t say hello if that’s what you mean, but she also won’t be rude like the pigs who act like pigs.”

He was teasing her and she didn’t mind. “It’s good to know she has her species figured out.”

They were at the barn door. He edged it wider open and she stepped inside.

“I hope you don’t find the smell obnoxious,” Levi said.

She sniffed as she turned her head from side to side. “There’s a warm, earthy scent, a musty odor and a kind of mushroomlike smell. None of it overwhelming or unpleasant. It’s rather a reassuring odor.”

He stared at her. “Reassuring? You make the smell seem vital.”

“Vital? Yes. That’s exactly how it feels.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what to make of you.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant, nor was she sure she wanted to know. If it was good she would be flustered, if bad, she’d be wounded. No, better not to know. “So where is this milk cow?”

He swept his arm toward the alleyway and she preceded him the direction indicated. Old Sissy munched on her feed. There were wooden pens on either side, some with boards that looked as if they had been chewed. She glanced upward at the sound of something scurrying overhead.

“Mice,” he explained. “The cause of Maisie’s accident.” His expression hardened like black rock.

“Wouldn’t cats take care of that problem?”

“Cats are hard to find and harder to keep. We had a mama cat but she was half-wild and packed up her kittens and moved on.”

An amusing mental picture flashed through her mind of a cat carrying a valise out of which three little kittens peeked and she laughed softly, wishing immediately that she had kept her amusement hidden.

“What makes you laugh?” Levi asked.

She glanced at him to see if he was annoyed but he appeared more curious than anything and she explained. “After all, you did say she’d packed up.”

He grinned. “She carried them one by one to a new place.”

“Carried them. How?”

“By the scruff of the neck.”

“I remember a time the groom was angry with the boy who helped with the horses and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and shook him. It didn’t look pleasant.” She shuddered to think of baby kittens being carried that way.

“It’s the way cats do it, and the kittens don’t seem to mind. Now, do you want to see the milk cow?”

“Yes, of course.” Though she’d momentarily forgotten their reason for coming to the barn.

He moved along the alley and stopped where a gate had been pushed open. A tawny-colored cow stood patiently with Charlie squatting at her side squirting milk into the bucket at his knees.

Beatrice knew where milk came from...in a picture-book sort of way. But she’d never seen it foaming up in a pail. For some strange reason it brought a sting of tears.

Charlie gave Levi a pained look. “I ain’t no chore boy.”

Levi leaned back on the side of the pen and gave his cousin a steady look. “Nothing wrong with good honest work.”

“This is squaw work.”

Levi’s laugh lacked mirth. “Not here. Big Sam says it’s man’s work.”

“Don’t see him doing it, though.” Charlie stood. “I’m done here.”

Levi straightened. “Not until you’ve stripped her. I don’t want her going dry. We need the milk. Finish the job.”

Beatrice looked from one to the other as the words that made no sense hung about in her brain looking for something to connect to. Charlie looked ready to explode. Levi’s expression was hard. What would he do if Charlie disobeyed his order?

Looking rebellious, Charlie sat on the little stool again and returned to milking until no more hit the pail. “Happy now?” He pushed past Beatrice.

“Take it to the cookhouse and take care of it.”

Muttering under his breath, Charlie stomped from the barn.

Levi took off his cowboy hat and dragged his fingers through his hair. “Sometimes I wonder if he’s worth the effort.”

A shiver raced down Beatrice’s spine. Did he think the same of her? Not worth the effort? She drew herself up to her tallest and faced Levi. “Is anyone who can’t do the things you do considered not worth the effort?”

His dark eyes were bottomless, revealing nothing, though the way he crossed his arms over his chest made her think he was prepared to defend his view. “It isn’t that he can’t do the chores I’ve assigned him. It’s that he doesn’t care to make the effort. He believes chores are beneath him. For that reason I find him difficult to deal with.” His gaze bored into hers. “I believe in an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay.”

She floundered to think what that meant to her. She didn’t expect to be paid, didn’t want to be. “Maybe he’s doing the best he can.”

He unwound from his position at the fence. “If I thought that I would be happy. But Charlie is capable of doing almost anything he puts his mind to. Come along, I’ll show you the cookhouse.” He paused at the doorway, retrieving the slop bucket where he’d left it. “That is, if you’re interested.”

“Yes, I am. I want to see everything.” She might have told him she found it fascinating to see life at its roots, but he seemed cross so she kept the words to herself and accompanied him across the yard to a low building. They stepped inside and she stopped to take it in. To one side, there was a long wooden table with backless wooden benches on either side. Hooks on the wall next to the door held a variety of items—bits of leather, furry leggings and two soiled hats. To the other side was an enormous black stove, a long wooden counter and pots, pans, crocks and kitchen utensils of every size and kind. Apart from that, the room was bare of any sort of decoration. The windows lacked curtains. The only bright color in the whole place was the red rim of some of the granite pots.

“What do you think?” Levi asked.