Rose (17 page)

A slight increase in the pressure of his arms encouraged her to go on.

“I know I came here with unfounded expectations. I knew that from the first. I told myself to do my job and keep my feelings to myself. But I couldn’t. It’s impossible for anybody to be around your brothers and feel nothing. It’s like living in the center of a whirlwind. But it was a whirlwind that never went out of control, because you stood at the center.

“You kept a loose rein on Monty. You kept watch over Zac. You never forgot Jeff suffered more than you. You even understood Hen and Tyler. And you never forgot that even though he was absent, Madison was still part of the family. You put aside your own career for your family. Not by even the slightest word or action did you lead anyone to think you might resent it. You are kindness and thoughtfulness personified, and you don’t even know it.”

She looked up at him, expecting a frown. The look of tenderness, of wanting, nearly caused her tongue to lie still in her mouth.

In that look, she found the courage to tell him the one thing she’d sworn he’d never know.

“You always protected me. Even when I made you mad, you were fair. You leavened your orders with humor and caring. You were quite simply the most wonderful man I’d ever met. And I fell in love with you.”

George reacted as if he’d been jabbed with a cattle prod.

“You fell in love with me?”

Rose would have broken away if she could, but George held her in an iron embrace. How could he be so sensitive to his brothers and be so unaware of her feelings toward him? If she needed any proof he didn’t love her, she had it now.

“Is that so hard to imagine? You’re handsome, kind, and wonderfully reassuring to be around.”

George put his hand under her chin and raised her head until their eyes met. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She felt herself relax. She never could stay angry at him, not even when he deserved it.

“Why should I? I have lain in that miserable loft for weeks dreaming of being held in your arms, of being kissed, of being told you loved me. And all you could say was you didn’t see how it would cause any harm since you liked me a lot.”

George wasn’t listening. He was kissing her face, planting dozens of kisses on her eyelids, nose, and mouth.

“You said you thought we could
enjoy each other
without making any sort of commitment. You couldn’t have been more cruel if you’d tried.”

Somehow Rose’s arms found their way around George’s neck.

“You are too much like my father. Even though you seemed to be everything I was looking for, I tried not to fall in love with you.”

George’s kisses became more insistent, and her sentences started coming in fragments.

“Only I made one…mistake. This wonderful man had no room in his…heart to love anyone but his…family. He had closed the door…sealed himself off from the rest of the world. This…wonderful man was afraid of a…little thing like…falling in love.”

George paused. “What if this man could fall in love without wanting to get married or have a family? What if he wanted more than anything else to make a woman know how much he loved her?”

Rose felt some of the fire go out of her limbs. Her fingers
unclasped and her arms slowly slid from around George’s neck. She put her hands on his chest and pushed until she could look straight into his eyes.

“That man would be confusing love with desire. Desire has all the heat of love with none of its warmth. It has a need to consume without any need to build. It considers the moment everything and the future an unpleasant afterthought. Desire flames high and burns out quickly. Love strives to build a nourishing warmth which will last through the years.”

“You don’t believe that that man could love you?”

“He could, but he won’t let himself.”

“Then you won’t stay?”

“I can’t.”

“I thought southern Georgia was a Godless country, but this place sure has it beat.”

They had traveled for hours—along narrow paths deep in the brush, across several clearings, through dozens of shallow creeks—without seeing a house or any other sign of human habitation. George drove the wagon. Rose sat next to him. Salty rode alongside. All morning he had entertained them with a steady stream of genial chatter.

“We had a jim-dandy briar patch back home, but it was nothing compared to this stuff,” Salty said, indicating a towering thicket that stretched for miles. “Can’t understand how your cows get in and out with those horns. Ma had an old milk cow once with horns no longer than a pig’s tail. Got tangled up in a wisteria vine and broke her neck. Shame, too. We never did get another cow that gave as much cream.”

George wasn’t interested in Salty’s wisteria vine or his cow. He was aware of only two things: Rose’s nearness and a
dawning awareness that his resolve to remain a bachelor wasn’t nearly as firm as he had thought.

Rose had never looked lovelier, or more desirable. He didn’t know whether it was because he knew she was leaving or because her dress clung to her body with revealing intimacy. A row of buttons running up to Rose’s neckline preserved her modesty, but her bosom was outlined as never before. Her stiff posture only accentuated its thrust.

The temptation to reach out and cover her breasts with his palms was almost too strong to be withstood. George hated to be such a slave to his lust, but there was nothing he could do about it when Rose sat just a few tantalizing inches away.

She might as well have been a thousand miles away. He could feel the tension between them. He knew she was reluctant to talk about what was on her mind. And he didn’t encourage her to break her silence. She had said too much last night.

But he hadn’t said enough.

He had told her of his admiration, of his liking, but he hadn’t told her of the pain her leaving would cause.

He couldn’t because he hadn’t known until this morning. Until the moment she had come out of the house carrying her bags he hadn’t truly suspected its magnitude. He hadn’t expected to like her leaving, but neither had he expected to feel like getting down on his knees and begging her to stay.

She was probably right in feeling he would never be happy or contented if he didn’t marry, but he had no choice, so it wouldn’t help either of them to know they wanted the same thing and couldn’t have it. Far better to separate quickly. The pain would be easier that way.

And there was pain. Anger, too. A surprising amount. He should have become used to it by now. It seemed his entire life had been a series of promises made but never kept.

But it hurt most of all to know she would leave believing he felt nothing for her beyond lust. That would make him no better than Luke Kearney in her eyes. He couldn’t stand it if she despised him, too.

Maybe it would have been better if he had told her why he couldn’t marry, why he didn’t want a family. Last night didn’t seem to be the right time. Neither did now. Since she had decided she must go back to Austin, it seemed unfair to undermine her resolve.

And he knew she had to go.

He had lain awake all night looking for another solution, but there wasn’t one. They would hire another housekeeper, one with no connection to the Union Army.

The army. Odd. Coming home from Virginia he’d spent weeks going over the territorial forts in his mind, trying to decide which ones offered him the best chances for advancement. When he’d asked about Texas, he never asked about cattle or ranches. He asked about the Indian wars, the forts, and the men who commanded them. Even after he’d reached home and realized it would be some time before he would be free to leave, he worried that the longer he waited, the harder it would be to build a career.

Now he realized he hadn’t thought of the army in weeks. He had spent all his time thinking about the roundup and setting up a breeding program for the herd. He was even planning to build new corrals, a shed, a barn for the bull, maybe enlarge the house.

He had thought of Rose.

And he had been happy.

Happier than he could ever remember. Could it be that Rose was right, that he was merely running away from something he was afraid to face?

No. The evidence was beyond question.

He could never marry.

Located on the north bank of the Colorado River, Austin had been chosen as the capital of Texas in 1839. Edwin Waller laid out the town in a square with all the streets running at right angles. The streets running east and west were named after Texas trees such as Live Oak, Cypress, Pecan, Mulberry,
Mesquite, and Bois d’Arc. Those running north and south were named after rivers. Congress Avenue, the street running through the middle of town, was the only exception. A Capital Square had been laid out, but the public buildings went up along the southern part of Congress Avenue. The armory, barracks, warehouses, barns, and corrals were across Waller Creek near the southeast corner of town.

The heat of summer had turned the streets into dust bowls. It had also driven the inhabitants indoors.

George pulled the wagon to a halt in front of Bullock’s Hotel. Situated on the corner of Pecan and Congress Avenue, it was the biggest and finest hotel in town.

“What are you going to do?” George asked Rose. He couldn’t just let her down and forget about her. He had to know she would be safe.

“I thought I’d see if Dottie would give me my old job back. Maybe things will be different now.”

“Where are you going to stay?”

“There’s my old room.”

That’s what he’d thought. She didn’t have a job or a place to stay.

“You’ll stay at the hotel until you have a job and somewhere to live.”

“That might take days.”

“I’ll be in town for a while hiring hands.” It wouldn’t take more than half a morning, but he’d stay a week if necessary.

Rose hesitated.

“I’ll pay for the room. It’s our fault you had to come back so soon.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Let him,” Salty advised. “I always say there’s no point in using your own money when you can spend someone else’s.”

“I’d rather pay my own way,” Rose said.

“I’d rather have a farm of my own than work for George,” Salty responded, “but there’s nothing I can do about that either.”

George took some gold coins from his pocket and handed them to Rose. “Three months. That’s the minimum we agreed on.”

Rose looked at the gold coins winking in her hand. Then she looked at George.

“Is this all your gold?”

“No. I’ve got plenty more.”

He could tell she didn’t believe him.

“As soon as I get a job, I’m going to pay you for the hotel.”

“I won’t let you do that.”

“Then I won’t stay in the hotel.”

She had made up her mind, and George could tell she wouldn’t change it.

“I wish my mother had had some of your stubbornness. She’d have been a much happier woman.”

“I doubt your father would have been pleased.”

“Pa could go to hell. I’m sure he’s there already.”

George reined in his anger. This wasn’t about his father. It was about him and Jeff and circumstances; it was about Rose’s leaving.

“Will you be sure to tell me if you need anything?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

She nodded.

He took her hand. He shook it. Only iron restraint kept him from taking her in his arms and kissing her right there.

Then, without a word, he turned and walked away.

But it was impossible to just turn his back and forget Rose. It wasn’t fair to ask him to try. Every fiber of his being screamed in protest. It seemed wickedly cruel that, after being forced to make a vow to remain unwed, he should have been fated to meet the one woman who could make him want to break his promise.

He turned back toward the hotel. But no sooner did he prepare to take the first step to follow her, start to open his mouth to call her back, than nightmarish visions of his own
life filled his mind. If he followed her, if he called her back, was he fated to play those same scenes over again with himself in the lead?

He couldn’t take that step.

She deserved to find a man who could love her and give her the family she so desperately wanted. She deserved a husband who could come to her with an unfettered spirit, not a man handicapped and shortchanged by his heritage.

George had thought he would never again feel as heartsick as he had the day Lee surrendered to Grant.

Today he felt worse.

George was at the livery stable when Salty found him. “Have you seen Rose?” Salty asked.

“No. Is anything wrong?”

“You’re not going to like this.”

“Spit it out. Bad news never improves with keeping.”

“Dottie won’t give her back her job.”

“I was afraid she wouldn’t.”

“And nobody will rent her a place to stay.”

“Why?”

“This is the part you’re not going to like. It seems some woman named Peaches is spreading it around that Rose wouldn’t be back here so fast if she hadn’t done something she shouldn’t. She’s insinuating it couldn’t have been anything nice or she wouldn’t have been paid off in gold.”

Rage so overwhelmed George he hardly knew what he did. He headed straight to the hotel. He had no idea what he intended to do, but he had no intention of allowing anyone to mistreat Rose. Especially anyone in this town.

It infuriated him even more that Jeff’s blind hatred and his own selfishness should have made her situation worse than it had been two months ago. He thought of Rose’s kindness, her sweetness, her outpouring of affection when anyone treated her kindly. There must have been dozens of times when she
had tried to bridge the gap of hatred and misunderstanding in this town and had been repulsed. Just thinking about it made him furious. By the time he neared the hotel, he was in a lethal mood.

He spied Peaches McCloud across the street in front of Taylor’s Drygoods. Without looking right or left, without acknowledging the shouts from drivers and riders who had to jerk up their horses to keep from running over him, he plunged into the street and marched straight up to her.

“Ma’am,” he said, interrupting Peaches’s conversation with a matron of similarly imposing stature, “I’ve never laid a hand on a woman in my life, but if you say one more word against Miss Thornton, I’ll take a strap to you right here in the street.”

Peaches and her companion gaped at him as if he had taken leave of his senses.

“It’s absolutely none of your business what she does, but if it will help set this town’s mind at rest, you can present yourself at the hotel lobby at nine o’clock tonight. You’ll be able to see her become my wife.”

George turned on his heel, leaving his auditors, Salty included, speechless.

You’ve done it again. You’ve let this damned town’s attitude toward Rose stampede you into doing something you had absolutely no intention of doing.

George marched down the boardwalk to the Bon Ton. He had just wrecked every plan he’d ever made for his future. Dozens of unanswered questions buzzed in his mind. He had no idea what he was going to say to his brothers. Yet even as he cursed his foolish impulse, while he stared into the future with horror, even as the folly of what he had done made his knees feel weak, he felt exhilarated.

He felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. There was a buoyancy of spirit he had never experienced before, a sense of reckless abandon, of freedom from
restrictions. Even though he had done something on the spur of the moment, without a single instant of thought, he was happier than he’d been in a long time.

But he had to find Rose quickly. “If she hears this from anyone else, she’ll never believe I mean it,” he said to Salty, who was practically running to keep up.

“That Peaches woman sure looked convinced.”

George delivered himself of a description he hoped would find its way back to Peaches. “Of course if Dottie had given her a job…” He charged into the Bon Ton, leaving the sentence unfinished.

Several men sat over their dinners, but Dottie was nowhere in sight.

George went through to the kitchen. The sight appalled him. He couldn’t imagine how Rose had managed to work here so long. Grease blackened the walls and every surface in the room. Including Dottie.

“I’m not giving her a job, so don’t come trying to make me,” Dottie said as she ebbed and flowed around the stacks of dirty plates.

“I wouldn’t let her work in this foul pit for as much as one hour,” George said. “Where is she?”

“Gone looking for a room.”

“Where?”

“The Widow Jenkins. To the left when you go out the front door. Down Walnut to the edge of town. It’s a log house sitting out on the prairie.”

George was spared asking strangers the whereabouts of one log house among dozens. He almost bumped into Rose coming around the corner.

“Come with me,” he said without explanation or warning.

“What’s wrong?” Rose asked. “Has something happened to one of the boys?”

All George would say was, “I’ll explain when we get to the hotel.”

Though she was suffering under the shock of being refused
a job and a place to stay, Rose wasn’t too upset to notice the looks of passersby. George’s thunderous expression caused some to smirk, others to stare in naked curiosity. Refusing to give them the satisfaction of thinking she was in disgrace, Rose walked with all the assurance and the appearance of contentment she could muster.

She
was
glad to see George. Ironically, she felt he could solve everything.

No one spoke to George. His expression was so fierce even the hotel clerk swallowed his habitual cheery greeting.

Rose was confused when George followed her into her room. She was even more perplexed when Salty followed on his heels.

“I know this is going to sound a little strange, coming as it does at this particular time,” George began the moment the door was closed, “but I want you to marry me this evening at nine o’clock.”

Rose lost color. She reached for a chair and sank onto it.