Sweetwater by Dorothy Garlock

begin.
    “Mr. McCall, we’ve been here four days—almost five now. I would be a fool not to know that I’m fighting an uphill battle. Frankly, I’ve never had to cook, clean, wash or care for animals. It is not something I’m proud to admit, but I’m not ashamed either. Our father provided for us very well. He never believed his daughters would be required to do those things. He is gone now, and it is up to me to provide for my sisters.
    “I can teach. I came here to teach the Indian children. I know that I must have more wood than I can scrounge from that pile out there. I need it for the cookstove as well as for this place and the schoolroom when winter comes. I can go to town and lay in a supply of food, but we need fresh meat and the children need milk … and—” Jenny’s voice trailed and Cassandra’s voice filled the void.
    “After meeting that disgusting boy with the raccoon and the man who drove us out here, we have come to the conclusion that we are not going to get help from anyone in that miserable town of Sweetwater.” The little girl spoke with her hands clasped on the table. Her serious blue eyes were focused on Trell’s face.
    “Very well put, honey.” Jenny reached out and squeezed her sister’s hand then looked back and met Trell’s eyes squarely. “We welcome any suggestions, Mr. McCall.”
    “I have one you may want to consider.”
    Trell told about stopping at the Murphys and learning about Miles Murphy’s being killed. He explained that the girl and her grandmother had been warned to leave within two days’ time or the men who killed Murphy would be back to burn them out.
    “That’s terrible!” Jenny exclaimed. “Frank Wilson, the man who drove us out here said something about squatters on Whitaker land. The Indian agent doesn’t
own
this land. How can he do this?”
    “It’s a matter of who is in possession at the moment. The girl had started digging her father’s grave when I got there. She can use a rifle. At least she was dead set on using one on me when I first rode up to their shack. But she can’t stand up to Havelshell’s men. I think she and her grandmother would be of help here.”
    “Are they … ah … decent women? You understand I couldn’t have someone here with the girls who was … loose.”
    “I’d stake my life on it. The grandma is elderly and I’d say the girl is nineteen or twenty.” He grinned to Cassandra. “I’m sure they know all about a cookstove.” Then to Jenny, “If they could come here, it would give them time to decide what to do, and who knows, it may work out that you’d want them to stay.”
    “Is the girl pretty?” Cassandra asked.
    “Well …” Trell frowned as he studied the question. “She isn’t ugly.”
    “I do need help with Beatrice, Virginia. Maybe the granny could keep her amused while the girl cooked. It would be heavenly to have a decent meal.”
    “They could sleep in the little room. I’d have to sleep with you and Bea.”
    “I can stand it if you can.”
    “It wouldn’t take much to put in another bunk, if you need one,” Trell said.
    “Does that mean you’ll come back?” Cassandra asked.
    “Do I have an invite?”
    “As far as I’m concerned you can move in and stay.”
    “I swear, Cassandra,” Jenny exclaimed. “You never cease to amaze me.” She dismissed her sister with a frown, then spoke to Trell. “Do you think the Murphys will be agreeable to coming and staying on a trial basis?”
    “I can ask them. It might not sit well with Havelshell if they come here.”
    “He has nothing to say about who lives with us. We will still need a man to do chores.”
    “You may find that the girl will do that. I’ll see about getting a crew to come out and cut a supply of wood.” He stood and reached for his hat “I’ve got to be going. It’ll be almost dark by the time I get back to the Murphys.”
    Jenny and the two girls walked out into the yard and watched as he mounted his