Authors: Linda George
But, dammit, Tom couldn't just
sit back and do nothing!
He leaped from the bed again.
Going...where? To Rosalie's room? Preposterous. Out of the question. Scandalous.
Yet he longed to hold her once more this evening, before she drifted into sleep.
Would her dreams be happy ones? Would she dream about him? Would she dream about being with him?
Tightness in his loins warned him to think of something else, but he couldn't.
Since he'd met her, she'd dominated his body, mind and soul. Only saving her from the misery her life had been, and from the hell her life would be, could bring him contentment.
Back to the window.
Several deep breaths. He detected the fragrance of lilacs on the breeze. The fragrance of her.
Chapter 10
After breakfast the next morning, Marietta suggested
that Tom take Rosalie riding. He didn't know how she'd feel about it, considering her distaste for her father's horses, but she seemed happy with the idea.
In the barn, Tom saddled a dapple-gray mare for Rosalie, then selected a pinto gelding for himself.
“Bo would love this horse.” He pulled the girth tight and secured the strap.
“
Because he's pinto?”
“
Yep. Bo has a horse a lot like this one. He calls him Scout.”
“
Do we know their names?” She stroked the mare's neck and received a soft nicker as thanks.
“
I didn't hear. Why don't you name them for today?”
“
All right. You're riding Rembrandt.”
“
The painter?”
“
Fits him, don't you think?”
He grinned.
“And are you riding Michelangelo?”
“
No. Dotsy.”
Tom laughed.
“That's perfect.”
Starting out slowly,
to see what kind of rider Rosalie was, and to give the horses time to warm up, Tom chose to ride north, toward a copse of live oak trees on the far side of the clearing.
Rosalie rode the side-saddle
with a look of consternation on her face.
“
You've ridden before?”
“
Never on one of these contraptions. It's no wonder ladies don't ride more than they do. I'll be crippled by the time we get back.”
“
You ride astride, then?”
Her cheeks colored slightly.
“I have. Does that tarnish your feelings for me?”
“
Not one bit. I never could see how a woman could stand to have her leg crooked over that ridiculous horn, anyway.”
“
Some men believe a woman who rides astride to be...wanton.”
Tom laughed at that.
“Don't let it worry you. We'll stop to rest from time to time. We can't have you crippled, now, can we?”
Rosalie loved every minute of the ride.
She found she'd missed being with horses since that day in June. But that was as far as she'd allow her thoughts to linger on that awful day. She wanted to enjoy this time with Tom to the absolute fullest.
They came upon a stream among the oaks, and Tom helped her down for a drink of sweet water and some rest.
“Delicious. How lucky they are, to have clear running water so close to home, even when it's as hot and dry as it has been this year.” Rosalie patted her face and neck with her wet hand, loving the coolness on her sun-warmed skin.
“
The best I can remember, this stream can swell to five times this size. All this hot weather has reduced it to a trickle. If it doesn't rain soon, it'll probably dry up altogether.”
Rosalie searched the sky.
“Cloudier than yesterday. Maybe they'll decide to scrunch up together and the pressure of their bodies will squeeze out some moisture.”
Tom's eyes told her the analogy she'd chosen had deeper meaning than she'd intended.
“
Rosalie...”
If she kissed him, felt him against her, would she recognize the truth behind those feelings?
Her body yearned for him so. How could she resist?
Tom sensed her hesitation.
Up until now, she'd been quick to come to him. Too quick? Had she decided their intimacies weren't right somehow? With no one here to see or judge, as there had been in the Acre, what else could it be?
“
Tell me what you're thinking.”
“
I can't.”
“
You have to.”
She turned away.
Two quick steps, a hand on her shoulder, and he turned her to face him.
“
Please, Rosalie. I have to know what's going on in your mind. Then I'll tell you what's in mine.”
She nodded.
“I don't know that I can describe it, or explain. The feelings I have for you are strange and exhilarating to me. Such happiness can't be wrong, yet I fear...I can't allow...I would never...” She shook her head, unable to articulate what swirled in her mind.
“
You're afraid what you're feeling makes you like the doves.”
After a moment's hesitation, she nodded, once.
“But that could never be. Don't you see what's happening?”
She raised her eyes, shook her head.
Should he speak for her? Try to explain? Or should she come to it on her own?
“
The feelings you're having are normal. They don't depend on where you live or the people you've come to know. They're your feelings, and there's no need to apologize for them. Just let yourself feel.”
Could it be so simple?
“Hold me, Tom.”
His arms made her feel safe.
But what she felt went far beyond safe. When he kissed her this time, she let her emotions go completely. He'd clearly done the same.
His mouth on hers, his hands roaming over her
arms and back, lent power and strength to what she'd been feeling. She couldn't hold him tightly enough, or be close enough. Their clothes presented an intolerable obstacle to the intimacy she craved.
Tom eased her down into the grass, still kissing, caressing, unable to get enough of her.
He wanted her with all his being.
“
Tom, we can't. We have to stop.”
“
This is right, Rosalie. Can't you feel it?”
He kissed her words away.
Before long, so clouded with love for him, she knew she wouldn't be able to stop herself. She suspected he was already approaching that crossroad.
She managed to get her hands on his chest to push him away.
His ragged breathing slowed, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He rolled away to the ground and lay on his back with one arm across his eyes.
“
I'm sorry, Rosalie. I'm sorry.”
“
You mustn't be sorry, Tom. I'm the one who led you on.”
“
No. I shouldn't have pressed you. Dammit, I know how you feel about this. About everyone thinking—”
Her throat constricted until she couldn
’t speak.
He retreated to the stream to bathe his face.
She came and sat beside him, afraid to touch him, afraid to speak. He didn’t understand, because she hadn’t told him the truth about herself. Should she tell him? Considering any chance at all he might love her, would knowing what she’d done change his feelings for her? Could she risk losing him before they’d ever had a chance to find something special together?
“
I wish I could tell you everything will work out fine, Rosalie. I wish you were free, so I could court you once you’re in Denver. Hell, I wish I could do a lot of things. But not now. Someday.”
“
But Zane—”
“
Don’t talk about him. Not here. He isn’t allowed here, not even in your thoughts. You have to trust me. I’ll get you free of him somehow.” He tipped her chin upward with his fingers and kissed her sweetly. “I promise.”
<><><><>
Phillip Mallory was standing on the front porch when they returned from the ride.
“
There's a wire here for you, Tom. Marked urgent.” He handed over the envelope.
Rosalie held her breath.
An urgent telegram could mean only one thing. She waited, along with Mr. Mallory, for Tom's reaction.
He released a long breath.
“Not a death in the family, I hope, son.”
“
No, Sir. Just some news my father wanted to pass along about that bull in Lubbock. He's changed his mind. We won’t be buying him after all.”
Phillip smiled broadly.
“Glad it wasn't bad news. Marietta has dinner on the table if you're hungry.”
Tom nodded once, shortly, glanced at Rosalie, then away.
A hollow opened up in the pit of her stomach, more than hunger. She felt fearful apprehension for whatever the wire represented. That bull meant new life for the McCabe Ranch. Not buying the bull. What could it mean? Why had Amos McCabe changed his mind?
They went upstairs to change clothes before joining the others.
Rosalie slipped into an ice blue dress Tom had said reminded him of clouds floating over the mountains in late afternoon. These lovely clothes he'd bought for her cost too much. She waited for Tom in the hall, wondering what kept him.
He said hardly a word during the meal.
Even Trina noticed how quiet her brother was and nudged Rosalie, whispering so he couldn't hear.
“
What's wrong with Tom?”
“
He got a wire from your father. I should let him tell you about it.”
“
He’s all right, isn’t he?”
“
Yes! It was something about the bull, I think.” She didn't feel she should say more.
After the meal, the men headed for the front room while the women clustered on the veranda.
Rosalie wished she could talk to Tom about the wire, but even when they'd been alone, he'd said nothing, so she hadn't disturbed him.
Trina
had other ideas, though.
“
I'm going to find out what that wire said. Aren't you burning up with curiosity?”
“
I heard him tell Mr. Mallory your father had changed his mind about buying the bull. He didn't mention anything more.”
Trina
's brow wrinkled. “How odd. Without that bull...”
“
Yes, I know.”
Trina
brightened. “I'll get Gabriel to talk to him. When men have problems, they hate to talk about them to women, but they'll open up to another man in a minute. I'll let you know what I find out.” She winked and headed for the front room. Rosalie trailed along behind, just to observe Trina in action.
“
Gabriel, could I speak to you for a minute?” she called through the din of eight men talking in three distinct groups, the smoke of after dinner cigars swirling about their heads.
Gabriel came to the door.
“What is it?”
“
Tom got a wire from Papa. It worried him.”
Gabriel frowned.
“He hasn't said anything about it.”
“
So, ask him about the wire. Please.” Trina brushed her hip against Gabriel's and smiled sweetly.
“
Sorry. If Tom wanted me to know, he would've told me. It's his business, Trina. Not ours.”
“
But, Gabriel—”
He kissed her forehead and went back to the front room.
“Hell's bells. That didn't get us very far, did it?”
“
Maybe farther than you thought. Look.” Rosalie pointed discretely. Tom and Gabriel were going out the front door, onto the wide porch.
Trina
squeezed Rosalie's elbow. “Come on. We have to hear this, too. Otherwise, I'll have to wrangle it out of Gabriel, one word at a time. He loves it when he knows something and I don't.”
Rosalie suspected
he enjoyed every minute Trina suffered until she persuaded him to confess the secret. She followed Trina out the back door and around the house. They stopped just short of the porch and slipped in behind some golden junipers. Rosalie felt guilty, eavesdropping, but Trina's eyes were wide and full of mischief. They listened.
“
So, Tom, tell me about this bull you're going to buy in Lubbock. How old is he?”
“
Doesn't matter anymore. We aren't buying a bull, in Lubbock or anywhere else. I guess we're going to have to wait on you to have a bull calf you can spare.”
“
I don't understand.”
Only silence for a moment.
“Richard Strickland has called in all of our notes, payable immediately, in full. No need to tell you, he didn't authorize a loan to buy a new bull.”
“
Why?”
“
His son, Zane, is back in jail in Fort Worth. Richard blames me, just as Zane does.”
“
That's mighty poor luck.”
“
Yeah. Not much I can do about it, either. Because he’s right. I had a lot to do with throwing his stinking carcass into a cell.”
Trina
's face turned red with obvious anger. She started to move, but Rosalie grabbed her arm and gestured for her to be quiet and still. She didn't want Tom to know they'd been spying. Trina nodded stiffly. They listened again.
“
Well, that calf is yours, Tom. In fact, just as soon as all my cows are pregnant, you can have the bull I'm using now. He's three years old, and I've been pleased with him. I'll put him on the train just the minute his job is done at my place, and he can serve double duty this year.”