City Girl

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Authors: Lori Wick
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bicycle I just don’t get out enough.
    â€œGood morning, Reagan,” a voice suddenly called to her, and she realized she’d walked all the way down to Russell’s livery.
    â€œHello, Russell,” Reagan said easily enough, approaching where he stood in the alley behind his shop. She still didn’t know the man very well, but at the moment he was a kind face, and Reagan felt very alone.
    â€œDid you work today?”
    â€œI did, yes, but I left early.”
    â€œAre you not feeling well?” he asked with genuine concern. “Holly has everything you can think of if you’re under the weather. Just stop and see her.”
    â€œNo, I’m all right.”
    The big man studied her.
    â€œYour face says you aren’t.”
    Reagan smiled and laughed a little.
    â€œSometimes men are so rude!” she suddenly blurted, and Russell had all he could do not to laugh.
    â€œI can’t disagree with you there.”
    They were silent for a moment.
    â€œWhat happened?” Russell finally asked.
    Reagan shook her head in wonder. “One of the hotel patrons could not keep his hands to himself. I threw his water in his face.”
    Russell’s booming laugh brought a smile to Reagan’s face.
    â€œGood job. You keep them in their place.”
    Reagan was fascinated. This was the last thing she’d expected from him.
    â€œDo you really think it was all right that I did that?”
    â€œOf course I do. A woman alone can’t let her guard down for an instant.”
    Reagan couldn’t have felt better if he’d offered her the moon. Smiling a little, she thanked him and turned to go on her way.
    â€œOh, Reagan,” he said, stopping her. She looked back. “How are things in the little house? Everything working well?”
    â€œIt’s wonderful,” she told him honestly.
    â€œWell, if you need something, you know where to come.”
    With a wave Russell went back inside, and Reagan moved toward home. She was inside the safe walls of her little house a short time later, feeling as tired as if she’d worked her regular day.
    Sitting down in her chair and putting her feet up, she found herself thinking of New York and growing sad over what she’d left behind. It hadn’t been much, but it had been familiar. Tommy hadn’t even sent her bicycle yet, and for one ridiculous moment Reagan thought she might cry.
    â€œThis won’t do,” she said quietly. “I must be more tired than I first thought.”
    But not even hearing the sound of her own voice could convince Reagan. She dozed off for a nap before she could put her finger on what was truly wrong.

Five
    â€œI’ M SUPPOSED TO BE WATCHING CHILDREN ,” Reagan muttered in low fury just two weeks later, her arm scrubbing furiously at a pot. “Kind, gentle little children who adore me. I’m supposed to be sitting under shade trees and reading storybooks. I should be eating little cakes and fanning myself if I’m warm.” Reagan shook her head in irritation, blew the air from her brow, and picked up the bucket of water that needed dumping.
    It wasn’t enough that waiting on tables had been added to her original job as baker. Now, added to those jobs was pot scrubbing. It didn’t matter that she was being paid more. She didn’t like it! Nearly stomping to the back door, Reagan took barely a step outside before she tossed the bucket of water into the alley. She would have turned right around and gone back in, but a deep gasp stopped her. Peeking around the doorjamb that hindered her view, Reagan caught sight of a tall cowboy. He was dripping wet from his mid-chest to his knees. Reagan’s hand came to her mouth.
    â€œI’m sorry!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t see you.”
    â€œIt’s all right,” he said, still looking surprised but not angry.
    â€œWhat were you doing back here anyway?”
    The apologetic,

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