Chapter 4

Dirk

Dirk had just arrived at home and was enjoying the fire, wondering if he should go into town in the morning. By the way it was howling outside, he was sure to be snowed in. And if he didn't go in, Billy would open the livery stable for him. Also, Sheriff Clark usually stopped by first thing every morning to check in.

Dirk had just poured a steaming hot cup of coffee when he thought he heard something outside. He thought it was probably just the storm, but then Buster started barking.

Dirk pulled his rifle off its holder above the fireplace and cocked it as he walked slowly to the door. He heard footsteps, and then a loud thud on the porch. Next, Buster started whimpering and pawing at the door. Dirk just hoped nothing had happened to him.

He flung the door open and raised the rifle to his shoulder. But when he saw what… or who… was lying on the porch, his eyes widened in shock, and he quickly lowered his weapon. For lying on the porch, nearly frozen to death… was a woman.

"Oh my God!" Dirk quickly put down the gun and swept her into his arms. "You're freezing!" He carried her inside and laid her on the sofa, knowing she needed the warmth of the fire to revive her. Buster followed him in and stood by her side, whimpering softly.

The woman's hair was dark brown, almost black. Even though her hair was a stringy mess with leaves and twigs in it, she still looked beautiful. She wore a ratty, old coat and men's clothes, uncharacteristic in contrast with her fine features. She opened her blue eyes and tried to focus on Dirk. "Please, help me, sir."

"Shh." Dirk pulled the afghan from the back of the couch, slid it over her, and then went to the hall closet to fetch two quilts. A moment later, he was back and covered her over. He looked down at her in wonder, taken aback by her beautiful French accent. Who in the world was she and how had she come to be on his front porch… in a blizzard? "Just warm up and get some rest. We'll talk about it in the morning. You're safe here. I promise."

She nodded once, and then passed out, obviously from exhaustion as much as exposure.

Buster paced back and forth next to her, then stopped and licked her face.

"Go lie down, boy," Dirk cooed as he rubbed his ears. "I'll take care of her. Don't worry."

Buster lay down on the floor next to her, resting his face on his paws, a worried look in his eyes.

Dirk sat in the rocking chair, watching the woman sleep. She was quite beautiful. He wondered why she'd been out in the blizzard alone in the first place. Throughout the night, he stayed with her and kept the fire burning so she would keep warm.

She woke up once. "Here, drink this," he coaxed, handing her a glass of water.

She quickly downed the whole glass. "Thank you," she replied, and then closed her eyes again.

As he watched her sleep, he knew she obviously wasn't from Whiskey River, and they were too far from Laramie for her to have gotten lost, especially in a blizzard.

Dirk dozed off watching her sleep, speculating on how she came to be in the middle of a snowstorm… alone.

Someone was slamming things around in the kitchen. Dirk's eyes snapped open. Then memories flooded his mind—Buster barking at the door… the woman on his porch… bringing her in to warm up by the fire….

Dirk jumped up from the rocking chair and followed the noise. In the kitchen stood the young woman, dirty, in need of a bath, and her hair was disheveled and falling around her face. She was looking at the stove, as if trying to figure out how it worked. When she saw Dirk, she turned and moved away with her back to the counter, her eyes wide with fear.

Dirk held up his hands, not wanting to startle her. "Miss, my name is Dirk Price, and I own this house. You were on my porch last night, and I brought you in to warm up." He took a step closer, but she moved away, keeping her distance. "Why don't we sit down and talk?" He took another step toward her. "I won't hurt you. I promise. You're safe."

The woman must have trusted him, because she nodded, but made no move to sit down. "Monsieur, thank you for caring for me," she replied in a French accent, raising her chin. "But now you must take me to the train station in Laramie."

Dirk shook his head. "Sorry, but I can't do that. The—"

"You can't keep me here!" She cut him off, stamping her foot, reminding Dirk of a spoiled child. "I demand that you take me back at once!"

Dirk bit his lower lip to keep from smiling. She was like a kitten throwing a hissy fit with her claws out, but completely harmless. "I was about to say that I can't take you because the pass is closed. In case you don't know, a blizzard just passed through here—"

"I know a blizzard passed through! I was in it!" the woman challenged as she stood in the kitchen, watching him. "And where is the toilette?"

A crease formed between his eyes, and then one corner of his lips curled into a smile. "You mean the outhouse?"

"Outhouse?" she asked in disbelief.

A smile lit his lips, enjoying her discomfort a bit too much. "It's out back." He pointed toward the back door.

She huffed as she marched out. He waited and a few moments later, she came back in. "That little building is the… toilette?"

Dirk nodded. "Yes, of course it is. But here in America, it's called the outhouse. What have you been using all your life?"

Gabriella let out a deep breath. "The toilette flushes to keep the smell down. That out there…." She flailed her arm toward the back door. "Is… well… I don't know what it is, but I'm not using it."

"Suit yourself." Dirk laughed. "But if you want to survive in the West, you'd better rethink that."

Gabriella glared at him for a moment and then stormed back out again. A few minutes later, she walked back in and stood before him.

"Feel better?"

She let out a deep breath. "Yes, thank you."

For a moment, she looked vulnerable and completely alone. It was obvious to Dirk that the young woman had been through some sort of ordeal. "Look. We can talk about what happened to you and why you were out in that storm in a bit, but why don't you go freshen up while I make us some breakfast?"

She stood there for a moment and then pulled the coat around herself. She started to march off but stopped short in the living room. "Which way?"

Dirk suppressed a smile as he pointed toward his bedroom. There was a washstand there with fresh water. "You can freshen up in there. I'll get the spare room ready in a bit."

She narrowed her eyes. "That is your bedroom?"

He nodded.

"Well, don't try anything! I'm warning you!" She pointed her finger at him, her hair a disheveled mess, dirt covering her face.

He held his hands up again and laughed. "Oh, miss! Believe me, I wouldn't dream of it!"

"Hmph!" the young woman looked down at herself, and then stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her.

"And you need to work on your manners, miss," Dirk mumbled as he retrieved a slab of bacon from the cellar, along with some fresh eggs.

In the kitchen, he put some coffee on to boil. Then he set a heavy cast iron skillet on the stove and lit it. Before long, the scent of bacon frying filled the cabin, causing his stomach to grumble.

A few minutes later, she came out. Her hair was combed and pulled up into loose curls, and her face was clean. Although her clothes were dirty, it looked as if she had tried to straighten them up, and she was no longer wearing the ratty old coat.

Dirk smiled as he scooped a slice of bacon out of the skillet and laid it on a plate. "Well, don't you look nice! Feel better?"

She just stood there looking at him, and then nodded.

"Okay. What's your name?" Grease popped out of the skillet as he laid another slice of bacon in it. When she didn't answer right away, he added, "Mine's Dirk… Dirk Price. I own the livery stable in Whiskey River and this ranch."

The girl's eyes opened wide. "Whiskey River?"

He nodded as he gave her a warm smile. "Yes. Have you heard of it?"

"On the train."

He nodded, glad that she was responding to something. "Say, why don't you start making some biscuits while I finish up the bacon and eggs?"

She looked at him as if he were crazy.

"You do know how to cook, don't you, miss?" he asked in disbelief. Every woman he had ever known knew how to cook.

She shook her head. "No, I never learned."

"Well, come here and I'll teach you."

She looked up at him with big doe eyes. "You'll teach me?"

Dirk stared at her for a moment, and then turned his attention back to the bacon and flipped over a piece. "Sure I will. Around here, if you don't work, then you don't eat."

She moved closer, cautious, but appeared to be intrigued by what he was doing.

Dirk pretended not to notice. "Are you hungry?" he asked as he flipped another piece of bacon in the skillet.

She nodded, watching him turn the bacon over.

"Well then, wash your hands and grab the flour over there." Dirk nodded toward a canister sitting on the counter. "I'll show you how to make biscuits."

Her eyebrows pulled together in disbelief. "You know how to cook?" She watched him, fascinated, as if she had never seen anyone fry bacon before.

Dirk chuckled as he took the last piece of bacon out of the skillet and pulled it off the stove. "I've been a bachelor for a long time, and like I told you, if you don't work, you don't eat." He cleaned off a spot on the wooden table, and got out a bowl, baking powder, salt, shortening, and milk. "Here, let me show you. Set the flour here."

She cautiously set down the flour, and then backed away.

Dirk pretended not to notice. Whatever had happened to her had left her untrusting of people, or maybe untrusting of men. He knew that he needed to be patient with her, and maybe she would come to trust him in time.

"Come here," he coaxed as he spread flour out over the clean kitchen table.

She jumped back, startled.

He rolled his eyes. "You mean to tell me that you've never seen anyone roll out biscuits before, either?"

She shook her head. "I've never had them before."

"Oh, that explains it." He nodded knowingly, continuing his work.

"What do you mean?"

Dirk chuckled. "Well, I can see that you've never done any real cooking before."

"Is it that obvious?"

He nodded. "Come here and I'll teach you." Dirk continued his lesson on how to make biscuits. "Now, be sure not to handle the dough too much or the biscuits will be hard as a rock. You do it like this…." He spread the dough out onto the floured table and used a rolling pin to roll it out. "Then, you flour a glass like this," he said as he dipped a glass into the flour, "and you cut out the biscuits like so." He handed her the glass. "Here. I'll let you do the rest while I cook the eggs. By the way, how do you like your eggs cooked?"

"Poached."

"Okay." Dirk rolled his eyes. "Hard boiled it is."

She rolled her eyes but seemed to be enjoying herself as she cut out the biscuits, awkwardly at first, but then before long, she had the hang of it and was cutting them out with ease. "Now what do I do?"

He handed her a pan and poured some melted lard onto it. "Just dip the biscuit into the oil and flip it over like so," he instructed as he demonstrated.

Soon, she became engrossed in dipping the raw biscuit dough into the melted lard and turning them over.

"Why are you here?" he asked casually as he wiped his hands on a dishtowel.

She continued working, not looking at him.

"Tell me, why were you out in the blizzard here in Whiskey River instead of in Laramie?" He took the pan of biscuits and popped them into the oven, waiting for her answer.

She bit her lip, saying nothing.

He let out a deep breath. "Well, if you don't tell me, then I can't help you." Dirk cracked some eggs into a bowl and placed others on to boil. "In the meantime, let's have some breakfast. There's nothing that can't be cured with a good breakfast. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry."

She nodded, and then relaxed a bit as she washed her hands. He handed her the dishtowel, and she dried them off.

"What's your name?" Dirk asked casually.

She let out a deep breath but said nothing.

He turned to look at her. "At least tell me that. It's not going to kill you." He continued his work so as not to make her feel uncomfortable. "I'm not going to bite. Although I haven't had breakfast yet, I'm not that hungry."

She laughed at his joke, and seemed to relax a bit as she handed him the tray. "My name is Gabriella."

He nodded, giving her a crooked smile. "Well, Gabriella, I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."

"The pleasure is mine."

He poured a cup of coffee and handed it to her. "Here." Then he handed her the plate of bacon. "Go ahead and set this on the table. Also, there's a clean rag over there if you'd like to clean up the flour first."

She let out a deep breath but didn't move.

"You don't work, you don't—"

"Eat," she finished as she squared her shoulders and walked over to the sink. "Where's the water?"

Dirk laughed. "You pump it, like this." He primed the pump and within seconds, fresh water poured from the spigot. "I'm glad it didn't freeze overnight."

"Why didn't it?" she asked, intrigued.

He shrugged. "As long as you pump the water occasionally, it'll keep it from freezing."

"I've never seen anything quite like this before," Gabriella mused, watching the water flow from the pump in amazement.

Dirk grinned proudly. "I installed it last year. Before that, I had to go outside to bring in the water from the river every morning." He thought for a moment, and then asked, "Is that what you do?" Who knew? Maybe he was wrong about her, and she couldn't afford an indoor pump.

Gabriella shook her head. "No, it's just that I've never seen this before."

"Didn't you ever go into the kitchen at your house?" Dirk asked in amazement.

She let out a deep breath. "Rarely."

He nodded. "Well, come here and I'll show you how to scramble eggs."

Before long, he had shown her how to scramble and hard boil eggs, too. A few minutes later, they checked on the biscuits, and they were golden brown and cooked to perfection, the scent filling the room.

"They smell delicious," Dirk gushed, giving her a friendly smile.

She almost smiled in return… almost.

"You did a good job." Dirk lined a bowl with a clean dish towel, slid the biscuits in, and then cover them with another towel.

"Why did you do that?" she asked, clearly amazed, ignoring his praise.

He held out a chair for her. "To keep the biscuits warm longer."

As she sat down, he slid the chair under her, and then sat down next to her.

"Thank you. You're a good teacher." She shook out the cloth napkin lying by her place setting and laid it across her lap.

He smiled and folded his hands, perching them at the edge of the table. "Let's say the blessing first, shall we?"

They both bowed their heads, and he said a beautiful blessing over the meal, giving thanks for the good food and good company. She blushed.

When they started eating, Dirk noticed that she ate daintily, taking small bites, appearing to be refined, despite her humble clothes and appearance.

They ate in silence, but Dirk was enjoying the company, nonetheless.

"So, what brought you to my door last night?" he asked as he casually buttered a biscuit.

When she didn't answer, he nodded, understanding. For some reason, she wasn't ready to talk to him about it.

He could wait.

After breakfast, she sat back and dabbed daintily at the corners of her mouth. "Thank you for breakfast. Now, if you don't mind taking me to the train station in Laramie, I'll be on my way. I can pay you—"

Dirk laughed as he ate the last bite of his biscuit and sat back, fully sated. "As I said, the pass is closed from the blizzard, and we won't be able to get through. In fact, I'm not going to my livery stable this morning in town because it's snowing so hard." He got up and looked out the back window at the snow blowing against the log cabin. "And it looks as if it's not going to let up anytime soon." He went over to the door, picked up his boots, and started putting them on as she watched. "If you don't mind, you can clean up from breakfast while I go check on the cattle."

She folded her arms across her chest. "You expect me to clean up this mess by myself?" Her disgusted gaze traveled around the kitchen.

He nodded as he slipped on his other boot and stood. "Yes, I do."

She huffed as she stamped her foot. "Well, if you expect me to be your maid, then you're going to be waiting a long time."

He took a step closer, suppressing a smile, and whispered just over her head, "Around here, we call it helping out. There are no maids in Whiskey River."

Gabriella looked up at him, her eyes wide. "I've never done it before."

Dirk shrugged, wondering how she could have lived such a sheltered life. "There's nothing to it. I'll tell you what. Clean up the best you can, and I'll be back to check on you in a bit." He headed toward the door before she could answer.

But she was quick on his heels. "And where do you think you're going?"

He smiled at her brashness; she was again the feisty kitten who couldn't hurt a flea. "Out to tend the cattle and livestock. They need to be fed. So, I expect the dishes to be done and put away when I return." He slipped into his coat and donned his cowboy hat as a thought occurred to him. "That is, unless you'd like to come out and shovel horse stalls with me."

Gabriella balled up her fists and stomped her foot. "I never!"

Dirk smiled. He loved her feistiness, but she had a lot to learn about country life. "Well, if you've never washed dishes before, you'd better learn." As he walked out the back door, something hit it from the other side.

He shook his head and laughed, hoping that it wasn't anything valuable.

He spent the rest of the morning checking on and feeding the cattle. Despite what he had told Gabriella, the horses' stalls didn't need to be shoveled yet. But if everything went well, he would need to go to the livery stable soon to check on it.

Toward lunchtime, most of the chores were finished and he started to get hungry. When he walked in through the back door, the kitchen was reasonably clean, except for the stove. He would have to show her how to clean it later. Two plates sat on the table, with coffee cups at two place settings, along with a plate of sandwiches. The bread was cut into uneven slices, too thick and too thin in places. He pretended not to notice.

"Gabriella?" Dirk asked, impressed. He walked into the living room to find her in the rocking chair, reading one of his books from the mantle. He grinned, amused. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Yes." She didn't look up. "It's a good book."

A smile lit his lips. "Yes, Romeo and Juliet is one of my favorites."

"You've read it?" she asked, astonished.

He chuckled. "It's my book, isn't it?"

She nodded in concession.

"I see you've made lunch," he observed as he took off his coat. "What changed your mind?"

She closed the book and rose from her seat. "Well, I thought it was the least I could do after all you've done for me. I mean, you saved my life last night."

He shrugged. "Well, I couldn't leave you out in the cold."

"And I couldn't let you go hungry." Gabriella smiled. "Shall we?"

He led the way to the table. She followed, picked up the coffeepot, and filled the cups. "Gabriella, when I finish eating, I'll set up the spare bedroom for you."

She sat down at the other place setting. "No need. If you give me the sheets, I'll prepare it myself."

"You know how to make a bed?"

Gabriella shrugged. "I'll try."

A broad smile spread across his lips as he pointed his sandwich at her. "You need to eat."

Dirk liked the way she was willing to pitch in. It was a nice surprise from her earlier attitude. When he went outside, he'd fully expected to come in to see a disheveled house and a few broken objects, but she'd obviously had time to think and must have changed her mind.

He looked around and everything was reasonably clean. The stove needed to be cleaned and a few other things needed to be done, but for the most part, everything was in good shape. He would teach her how to clean later. He had to admit, it was nice to have a woman in the house again, even if it was only temporary. He finished the last of his coffee and was reaching over to take the coffeepot when there was a knock on the door.

Dirk wiped his hands on a dishtowel, but when he looked at Gabriella, she was frozen to her spot, her eyes wide.

"I wonder who that could be?" He frowned and started toward the door.

Gabriella grabbed his arm, panic in her eyes. "Please, don't answer it," she whispered, holding onto his arm for dear life.

He looked down at her shaking hands, and then into her eyes as his eyebrows pulled together in concern. He took a step forward, but she didn't let go, her hand trembling as she unconsciously dug her nails in.

"Don't worry." Dirk patted her hand, trying to make his voice as soothing as possible. "It's probably just Colton or Daxton. I'll just see who—"

"No!" She held on tightly but loosened her grip when she saw the resolve in his eyes. "Please, I'm begging you. Don't tell anyone I'm here."

He nodded, and then gave her hand a gentle pat. "Go into the kitchen and stay there. No harm will come to you. I promise."

Gabriella nodded as she slowly released her grip on his arm, but jumped when there was another knock on the door, louder this time. Dirk placed a finger on his lips and motioned for her to go into the kitchen, and she did.

He wondered what in the world could have scared her so badly. The same girl that had stood up to him like a feisty kitten with her fur ruffled was now frightened out of her wits. When he opened the door, he understood. For standing on the other side were three men, dirty, smelly, and scruffy.

A man with a gold tooth had his hat in his hand. "Excuse me, sir." He fidgeted with his hat. "But our sister wandered off in the middle of the night, and I'm afraid she's not well. Delusional, in fact. Fancies herself a princess—"

A redheaded man nudged him hard in his side.

The man with the gold tooth gasped, but quickly recovered himself. "Well, I was wondering—"

The younger man cleared his throat.

"We were wondering," the man with the gold tooth continued, "if you had seen her."

Dirk pretended to think hard. From the look of the men, there was no way he would ever think of giving her over to them. But what would they want with her? Obviously, she was refined, and they… weren't.

"No, I'm sorry, but I haven't seen the girl," Dirk replied, donning his best Poker face. "So sorry you lost her, but I'm sure she'll turn up." He started to close the door. "Now, if you'll excuse me—"

But the younger man put his foot in the door, preventing Dirk from closing it. "If you see her, please tell her we're looking for her. We miss her so." He tried to sound sincere, but there was a threat in his voice.

Dirk smiled. "Of course." As he glanced over the men, he noticed all three were armed. His rifle and revolvers were in the house, but if they made a move, he was sure he could take them. "Now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen." He closed the door before they could say another word.

Dirk waited behind the door, listening to see if they walked away. They mumbled something incoherent to each other, and a moment later, the sound of their boots going down the icy stairs resonated up to him and then slowly faded away.

Dirk headed toward the kitchen to look for Gabriella, hoping she hadn't been scared off by those men, and wondering who they were to her.