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Grandfather patted Dawson on the arm with his knotted fingers. “Give her a chance. You might be surprised to discover inner beauty to match her outer beauty.”

Dawson shook his head. “You've seen her, what? Fifteen minutes? Half an hour? And spoken less than a dozen words to her. How can you make any sort of judgment about her?”

“I might ask you the same thing. Now help me to the wagon. Annie needs to get home and prepare a meal.”

Dawson assisted the man to the seat beside Annie. As much as possible Dawson, his brothers or their father gave Grandfather what help he needed, but Annie managed when she was alone with him.

The pair drove off and Dawson called Mattie to him.

“Why did we stay here?” she asked.

“We are going to take the doctor and the ladies out to the ranch for supper.”

“Oh, goodie.” She did a happy skip and jump. “Miss Isabelle, too? Right?”

Grandfather would accept no excuse if Dawson showed up without her. “Somebody will have to feed them. There's no food in the house yet.” He'd meant to have the pantry stocked by now but had fallen behind in that task. He'd left a notice at the store for people to contribute if they cared to. In the meantime, he would have to give in to Grandfather's plans despite his better judgment. At least, the part of the old man's plan where Dawson invited the newcomers to the ranch. Not the part where he tried to win the heart of one of them. And, for some reason, Grandfather had chosen Isabelle as the one Dawson should pursue. Dawson simply wasn't interested. “Let's invite them for the meal.”

They looked to the right and the left but he saw no sign of the fancy city lady.

“You said she wouldn't disappear.” Mattie's words accused him of being responsible for the lady's absence. “Now I'll never get to feel her soft scarf again.” She
tsked
. “Hardly think losing someone is going to meet with Grandfather's approval.”

Mattie had been surrounded by adults all her life, except for the few months she'd spent in school before it burned to the ground. It had turned her into a small adult. But she was correct about Grandfather's opinion. Dawson had unfinished business to attend to.

“Let's go find the schoolteacher.” After that they'd look for Isabelle. She couldn't have gone far. Probably in Uncle George's general store being dismayed at the array of farm tools and the smell of turpentine.

Mattie marched along at his side as they stepped into the hotel lobby.

“She's here,” Mattie whispered and hid behind him.

Indeed, Isabelle stood before a window as if studying the scene. He could tell her that what she saw was as exciting as life got around here. “I thought you couldn't wait to find her.”

“I couldn't.”

He had to bend to catch her whisper. “So why are you hiding?”

“'Cause she's so pretty.”

He caught Mattie's chin and tipped her face upward, waiting for her eyes to meet his. “You are pretty, too. Don't ever forget it.”

She brushed her gray pinafore, giving it a mighty frown, and kicked out one scuffed black boot. “I'm not pretty. Look at this old dress.”

Dawson's heart rent at yet another pain his daughter endured. She'd known far too many for one so young. But as to her clothes...well, she ran about freely at the ranch and wore clothes that allowed her to do so. The last thing Annie needed was more laundry and fancy dresses to take care of.

He squatted to Mattie's eye level and caught her by the shoulders. “Honey, never let anyone judge you by the clothes you wear, how much money you have or what you do. Those are outward things. Remember the verse Grandpa Bud says so often. ‘Man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.' It isn't the outside that matters. It's who you are on the inside.” He tapped her chest.

Mattie's eyes widened as she looked at him. “Who am I?”

He stroked her cheek. “A sweet, kind, cheerful little girl who likes to make others happy.” When she smiled, he would have hugged her right then and there, but she'd warned him she was too big to be hugged in public.

He straightened. “Now let's take care of those invites.” He held out his hand to her and she took it, squeezing it as hard as her little fingers allowed.

They crossed to where Miss Isabelle stood looking out a window.

“Miss.”

She turned.

He swallowed hard. The miner was right. They didn't often see such beautiful ladies. Nor one with such patient eyes. They revealed no sign of restlessness. That would come later. “You and the others are invited to join us at the ranch this evening for supper.”

She tipped her head in acknowledgment. “Thank you but I cannot accept or decline until I consult with Dr. Baker and Kate as to a method of conveyance.”

“That won't be necessary. I'll take you all there.”

She nodded. “Then if it suits the others, I accept. Thank you.” She stood before him, her hands folded, that silly scarf caught between her palms. Smooth as a kitten's fur. Though he wasn't sure if he meant the scarf. Or her manners. Or something else entirely.

He slid his gaze past her shoulder. “Where might I find Miss Young?”

The schoolteacher descended the stairs. “Are you seeking me?”

He extended the same invitation to her then hurried outside, where he filled his lungs with cool mountain air.

“Are you okay, Papa?” Mattie asked.

He settled his mind. Of course he was fine. Never again would a beautiful
unsuitable
woman be allowed to upset his world. He would ignore Grandfather's matchmaking plans because he didn't need or want a wife, and despite Mattie's fascination with Isabelle, he knew she would be most unsuitable.

Copyright © 2016 by Linda Ford

ISBN-13: 9781488008078

The Rightful Heir

Copyright © 2016 by Angelissa J. Moore

All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical,
now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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