Dreaming on Daisies by Miralee Ferrell Page A

have a batch of cookies out of the oven by now, so why don’t we head into the house?” She took a step toward the door, but Charlie Pape didn’t budge.
    “Cookies can come later.” He gestured at Steven. “Who might this rascal be, and what’s he doin’ in my bunkhouse?”
    He scanned Steven head to foot. “Don’t look like no down-in-the-heels miner, but he ain’t no seasoned cowhand or bronco buster, neither. Those are new duds that ain’t never been worked in. Looks like he stepped outta some fancy store. Why’s he here?”
    Leah opened her mouth, but Steven stepped forward and offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Pape. I’m Steven Harding, and this clothing will get broken in soon enough, I’m sure.”
    Pape ignored the extended hand. “Don’t really care if they do or not; it makes me no never-mind. But what you doin’ in my bunkhouse?”
    Steven exchanged a glance with Leah. He didn’t care to stir up trouble between father and daughter, but he wanted to tell the truth. Funny, the man didn’t recognize him from their encounter on the road, but he should have expected as much, considering the condition he’d been in.
    “Your daughter was kind enough to offer me a place to stay for a short time. She’s acquainted with my sister and knew my cabin was destroyed in the mine explosion.”
    Pape’s brows rose. “You don’t look like no miner.”
    “I’m not, sir. It was the only thing I found to rent when I moved to town last November.”
    “Why didn’t you move in with your sister? She won’t take you in for some reason?” His eyes narrowed.
    “No, sir, nothing like that.” Surely Leah had told her father about her friendship with Beth. “She recently married, and she and her husband live at the Jacobs’ boardinghouse on the edge of town.” He smiled, hoping the explanation would ease the tension building in the room.
    Pape crossed his arms over his chest. “So move there.”
    “I would have done so, but they’re full. Besides their normal boarders and three children, Mrs. Jacobs’s mother, Mrs. Cooper, lives there. They’ve decided not to take any more boarders, as Mrs. Jacobs is in the family way and needs rest.”
    Pape took a half step back, and if Steven wasn’t imagining it, his face lost a little of its ruddy color. “Cooper, you say?”
    “That’s right. Mrs. Frances Cooper.”
    “She a short, handsome woman?” Pape held his hand up to just above shoulder height. “And cantankerous—bossy like—always goin’ on about somethin’?”
    Steven bit his lip to keep from laughing, and Leah intervened. “Pa, that’s not a kind thing to say about a lady.”
    The older man exhaled. “I bumped into her in town a while back, and I wouldn’t call her a lady. Tyrant or dictator, maybe.”
    He scratched his chin. “All right. If you’re only here for a short time till you find another place to live, I suppose I can tolerate it. But you’ll pull your weight, you hear?”
    “Yes, sir, I plan to.”
    “You got another job?”
    “I do, sir. But I’ll be happy to help with chores in the evenings and on weekends.”
    “Give me your hands.” He reached out and grabbed Steven’s wrists. “Ha. Just as I figured. Soft. Woman’s hands. You’ll be a blistered mess in no time. Can’t see you amountin’ to much help, that’s for sure.”
    Steven gave a grim smile. “That’s what gloves are for, sir. And I think you’ll see I can hold my own.”
    Pape snorted and turned away. “Remains to be seen.” He jerked his thumb at the door. “Leah, let the man get settled whilst we go have ourselves some of those cookies. And while you’re at it, you’d better skin out of those fancy duds, as well. What possessed you to put that dress on ’stead of your trousers and boots?” He shook his head and disappeared outside.
    Leah briefly closed her eyes, then met Steven’s gaze. “Thank you.”
    “For what?”
    “For not telling my father you work at the bank. It was