Cowboy Courage

Laurie laughed. “Either option is fine with me.”

“Or we can play,” Beth suggested. “I’ll get some toys.”

Cole shook his head while reaching for the back-door knob. “I hope she doesn’t drive you crazy. She can play and talk for hours on end.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Laurie said. All she needed to do was make a quick phone call to Aunt Caroline. Then she’d be happy to do whatever Beth wanted to do: play house, bake cookies or chat away for hours. She actually looked forward to spending time with the little girl.

When Cole had gone outside, and Beth into her room for some dolls to help make cookies, Laurie picked up the telephone and dialed her aunt’s number.

The maid answered the phone. “No, Mrs. Taylor isn’t at home. May I tell her who’s calling?”

“It’s Lauren,” she said, a bit surprised the older woman hadn’t recognized her voice. “Tell her not to worry about me. I’m spending some time alone, and I’ll call her later.”

Before the woman could answer, the phone line crackled with static.

“Goodbye,” Laurie said, assuming her message had gone through. She hung up the telephone, just as Beth raced back into the room with an armload of baby dolls.

“This is Mary,” Beth said, propping a dolly on the table. “And this is Susan. She has a cold.” Beth introduced each one. “Josie, Christie. And this one is Margo. She’s my favorite because Pammy gave her to me for my birthday.”

“I’m pleased to meet you,” Laurie said, taking each small hand into hers.

“Let’s play house,” Beth said. “I’ll be the mother.” Then she paused, eyes wide and enthusiastic. “Or do you want to be the mother? I’ll let you be her, if you want. Pammy lets me be the mommy a lot, so you can have the first turn, if you want. It’s okay, as long as one of us is. All dollies need a mommy.”

“You can be the mother,” Laurie said, her voice catching. She swiped at her eye with the back of a hand. Dollies weren’t the only ones who needed a mommy.

The morning passed in record time, with Beth enchanting Laurie with her precocious wit and insights.

As they used forks to press peanut-butter-cookie dough onto a cookie sheet, Beth paused and grimaced. “My head hurts again.”

Laurie glanced up. Tears welling in the little girl’s eyes convinced her the child’s complaint was real. “Again?”

Beth nodded. “It hurts bad.”

“Did you bump it?”

Beth shook her head. “It just hurts sometimes.”

Laurie glanced out the window. Cole wasn’t around to ask, but she wanted to give the child some relief. “Does your daddy know about the headaches?”

Beth nodded, her lip quivering. “He gives me medicine, but it tastes yucky.”

“What kind of medicine?”

“The purple stuff.” Beth pointed toward the top of the refrigerator. “It’s up there.”

When Laurie reached for the half-empty bottle, she read the label. Grape-flavored children’s non-aspirin pain reliever. As Beth began to whimper, Laurie checked the dosage. What would it hurt? She hated to see the girl in such obvious pain.

Taking the small, plastic measuring cup that had been placed beside the bottle, Laurie poured the proper amount and gave it to Beth. For a moment, she worried that she might have overstepped her boundaries, but when Beth continued to whine, Laurie decided she hadn’t.

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