I had an idea with a rich money lender in the west with Belle coming to help him. I may still do something with that idea, but the thought of a crippled hired hand just wouldn't leave, and the story started coming to me. I hope you enjoy this story!
A lot this is inspired my the many times I've read the Little House books growing up. I apologize for any historical or cultural inaccuracies that may occur.

Chapter 1 Room and Board

'Isabelle!' came the deep voice of her father. That was the voice that told her to leave everything and come immediately, even if her hands, face, and apron were covered in flour. She covered the tiny claim shanty in only a few seconds, and unfastened the thin door to see her father in the wagon with not only the supplies from town, but someone amongst the large bags of flour, seed, and other goods that would last them the next few months. Hurriedly brushing off her apron, and wishing she had thought to grab her bonnet to cover her wild hair.

'How are you, my girl!? No problems while I was away?'

'No sir, everything was quiet.' She tried to peer into the wagon, but whoever the person was, kept themselves hidden.

'Found more than supplies this time, as you can see. Come along, Ralphy boy, come meet Issy.'

The boy was not a boy, he was a young man, possibly in his late twenties or early thirties with dark moppy hair and once he scooted himself out of the wagon, he shyly looked up to meet her and she saw the darkest pair of brown eyes she had ever seen. He took a small step towards her before grabbing a large staff out of the wagon and leaning against it the rest of the way towards her, stopping a good several feet in front of her, as if he was scared to get too close. She glanced down for only a moment to find his right foot didn't face quite the right way.

'Hello, Mr….'

'Ralph Gold, ma'am' His voice was almost swallowed up by the prairie wind.

'Nice to meet you, Mr. Gold. Did you meet my father in town?'

'Aye Ma'am, your father was gracious enough to…'

'Ralphy will work here for a little while, Issy. As you see he hobbles a bit, not fit for much of nothing, but the railroad camp doesn't need him much more since his leg got crushed. Found him looking like a lost dog in town and a little worse for wear.' Isabelle could see shame painted on the man's face and he suddenly looked much older than he did only moments before. His forehead wrinkled and he suddenly studied the ground, as if it was detrimental that he memorize the pattern of the grassy ground beneath him. He tried to shuffle his feet but the pain of the leg was still fresh and she saw him wince. Her heart went out to the timid man, and wondered why her father brought him at all.

'He won't be of much use, but he can feed the animals, help with the butchering, and hitch the wagon, and all the things that are a little tasking for me in my old age and I can take a breather.'

'Papa, What…' She started, not knowing how to speak in front of the man, already embarrassed enough that they had little to pay him and their shanty barley fit the two straw cots that were squeezed in the tiny room as it was.

'Don't worry.' Her papa said, as though reading her mind. 'He knows he'll get nothing but a place to lay his head and food to fill his belly. I need you to go get a quilt and a pillow to put in the loft in the barn.'

'Yes, Papa.'

Spinning around, she hurriedly went to the chest in front of her mattress and pulled out the extra quilt and pillow and headed towards the tiny barn. Step drag, step drag, step drag. She knew the thin man had followed her into the barn. Hearing the sliding against the hay littered floors made her heart break again for the man. He looked so sad, so embarrassed, and just so lost. His big brown eyes looked too big for the rest of his face.

Looking back down at her task at hand she continued to rake up the hay in as much as possible, tucking in the corners of the ragged sheet she had meant to strip for rags soon. Bits of hay stuck out and she now bit her lips in worry, wondering if she should have just traded out her own bedding for his, despite not having washed it first. He was in pain enough without sleeping uncomfortably too. She worriedly looked back at the man. He had stopped short of the ladder to the loft, memorizing the hay down by his feet, now that there was no grass there.

'Will you be able to climb the ladder, do you think?'

His eyes shot up at her question, his forehead wrinkled in embarrassment again, and she almost hated asking it. It had to be asked though, and it was better to know if they needed to figure something else out. What that would be, she didn't know.

'I-I think I can manage, Miss Isabelle. Thank you very much for allowing me to bed down here. I-I hope I can be of some help to your father.'

Now that he spoke more than a few words, she noticed the accent and smiled.

'You are from the old country, aren't you?'

'Aye, ma'am. Scotland, though I've not lived there many years. I seem to be stuck with the accent though. As I seem to be stuck with this old thing.' He said self-deprecatingly to the staff in his hand.

'I'm sorry. Does your leg hurt you very badly?'

He didn't seem to know what to do with that question, and for a minute, Isabelle was afraid that she had once again asked too many questions.

'Not so bad anymore,ma'am. It's been a month now, and I'm getting used to it.'

'Can you try climbing up now? I want to make sure you can make it.'

He looked like she had slapped him, and sweat started to form on his forehead. She felt like this was a necessity, but hated that he felt such embarrassment around her.

'I'm going to tuck in the quilt and get you situated here while you manage it. I'll not watch you, I understand this might be something new for you. I'm sorry we don't have better lodgings on the ground level.'

'No, it's no matter, ma'am, and thank you I'm sure I'll be alright.'

And with that she busied herself while she heard his first few attempts at managing the ladder. There was much clanking and jolting and for a minute she was worried the ladder itself might be torn from its steady grasp on the loft. However, after a solid ten minutes of attempts, he did manage to climb up, his body covered in sweat and looking even more tired and worn than he did before. Her heart leapt along with her body and she scrambled to take his arm and lead him to the makeshift mattress on the floor. He stiffened when she took his arm, but allowed her to help him sit on the quilt. She knelt beside him on the wooden planks, not too close, as she was worried that he would jump off the loft entirely if she got too close.

'I'm so sorry. Do you still think you'll be able to manage?'

He nodded, still seeming breathless from the exertion.

'Wait here.'

She maneuvered down the ladder and ran into the shanty for her cup then went to the well to get a cool glass of water. She went back into the barn and carefully climbed back up with one hand grasping the cup. Ralph was still in the same place she left him, but rubbing his leg. He stopped at once, when he saw her and attempted to stand.

'Don't get up. Here.' She gave him the cup of water and his eyes went wide.

'T-thank you.' His voice was so quiet and grave. His face told a story, a sad yet intriguing story, she thought. A story that she so desperately wanted to know, but wouldn't dare ask. It was the one trial to living on a claim, miles away from town. She hadn't seen a single person besides her father since they had moved there a year ago. Uncle Sam had made it clear that there must be someone on the property at all times for 5 years before the land became theirs. They would stick it out and have something that was only theirs no matter that it felt like a prairie sized prison to Isabelle some days. She was glad that there was another person there now. Another person to help break the silence of the emptiness of the land.

'I'm sorry about the bedding.' She broke the silence. 'The cover on the hay is all but good for rag making, and the quilt was my first attempt at sewing.' She smiled at the memory. 'Mama had a time trying to get me to sit still to work on it, and as you can see, at ten years old, my stitches weren't very even. It's complete, though, so I hope you'll be comfortable enough.' She smiled at the man, hoping to see his own. He did try, but only managed something small and still so quiet and grave, unless you were looking for it, you wouldn't know it had been there at all.

'Thank you, Miss Isabelle, I am sure I'll be more than comfortable.'

'You can call me Belle. I like it better than Isabelle, or Issy, if I'm being quite frank. Isabelle is what Papa calls when he's cross, and Belle is what mama and my friends back home called me.'

'Miss Belle.' His smile was a little bigger this time, and she couldn't help smiling back at him. He had smile lines, so he must have smiled before, but she felt like it had been a while. He wasn't strictly a handsome man, but smiling became him and she hoped she would see more of it.

'Well, I'll go finish supper, Ralph. I'm sure papa will be done unloading the wagon and be in here in a moment.'

He nodded and she left him to finish up the bread she had been kneading and to stir the beans. She wondered when the last time Ralph had eaten. When it came time to sit at the table, she poured him an extra spoonful and called out to the men.

Ralph ate silently, yet eagerly. Her suspicions were confirmed as he worked on his third bowl of beans.

'When I told you there would be food and board, I suppose you figured you would make it worth your while, huh Ralphy boy.' Her papa chuckled deeply, and Belle inwardly cringed at his condescending tone. And as she worried, Ralph stopped short and squirmed embarrassingly in his chair, well, it was her chair, but they only had the two-mama's being sold long ago. She shot him a concerned look and spoke up for him.

'Now Papa, you know very well that traveling can make you hungry, you've gone through a good two bowls, yourself.' She teased and her papa pulled her ear playfully in return. Her father was loud, a bit brash, and gentle was not a word that could be used to describe him, but thankfully he was fairly good natured, especially once they had gotten him away from the east.

She cleaned up the dishes once they were done and scraped the bottom of the pan to get her own supper while her Papa went to show Ralph around the tiny farm.

Getting up to follow her father, Ralph paused over the empty pot and glanced quickly at her own bowl. 'I ate too much, please forgive me. I didn't realize how low the pot had gotten. If I had I would have never eaten as much as I did. You have hardly enough for your own supper. I'm so sorry, Miss Belle.' He said all this so quickly and quietly, and desperately that she put her hand on his arm to calm him. He stiffened.

'Nonsense, Mr. Ralph, I did not travel, therefore I am not very hungry. This will be more than enough for my dinner, thank you for your concern all the same.' She said the latter with gentle assurance. Her papa laughed at the door.

'Don't worry about Issy, Ralphy boy. She wouldn't have offered it to you if she didn't think there would be enough. Grow a backbone, boy, come along.'

Ralph straightened a little, gave her one more look of concern over her small bowl of beans, and followed her papa out of the shanty.

Author's note: Thank you for reading! I appreciate any feedback you might give me!