by Kristen Iten
Two long strides brought him next to the window situated along the back wall of the kitchen. He pulled the yellowed lace curtains back and gazed outside for a few moments before turning to face Rosie once again.
“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You, my dear Rose, are an angel of mercy.” The sweeping motion of his outstretched arms punctuated every word he spoke. A slight tremor entered his voice. “You make dark days bright and cold nights warm.” His arms dropped to his sides as he bowed his head for a moment of silence.
Rosie cocked her head, trying to figure out if this display of dramatics was genuine, or if it had been practiced like so many of the speeches she’d seen him deliver over the course of the last few months.
Her father had taught her to always believe the best of people until they gave substantial reason to believe otherwise. Carson was an arrogant man accustomed to getting his way, but she could find no reason to think that he was not sincere about the kind words he’d just spoken. He may have been all bluster on the campaign trail, but there was nothing for him to gain by being kind to her in the privacy of her kitchen. She chose to take him at his word.
The next thing she knew, Carson was standing next to her with excitement dancing in his eyes. “It’s no secret that I’m going to be elected the next senator of our great state of Texas. When I am, I’ll be leaving this place. Titus has already begun making preparations for my new home in Washington. Everything is in place. I have everything, Rose.”
Rosie’s eyes blinked wildly when he suddenly dropped to his knee beside her chair. Her heart plummeted into her stomach when Carson took her hand in his. He kissed it softly. “I have everything but a good woman at my side, that is.”
Her stomach fluttered as Carson’s burning eyes held her captive. She clutched the ruffled fabric at her neck with a shaky hand. It had been more than twenty years since a man had gotten on one knee and spoken to her like this. Her heart pounded in her ears as blood rushed into her cheeks.
“Dearest Rose, come away to the Capital with me and be my wife.”
The weight of his words slammed into her, forcing her deeper into the chair. She raised a lacy handkerchief to her face and gazed into Carson’s expectant, brown eyes. The smile tugging at the corner of his mouth displayed his absolute confidence in an affirmative answer.
The look on his face compelled Rosie to speak, but she found herself to be tongue-tied. Countless thoughts raced through her mind but the only ones that seemed to matter had nothing to do with Carson. What about Micah?
“I can see from your expression that this proposition has come as quite a shock to you. I’m sure I’d be stunned to receive such a generous offer if I were in your shoes. You can rest assured that I have thought long and hard about this, and it’s what I truly want.” He placed another light kiss on the back of her hand before bounding to his feet again.
“I’m late for a meeting. I’ll see you this evening.” He paused before leaving the room, a mischievous glint flickering in his eyes. “Don’t take too much time to decide. I’m just about the most eligible bachelor around.” A disarming smile spread across his face as he winked and walked out of the house.
Rosie sat, staring straight ahead, looking but not seeing. She still clutched her garment, heart hammering in her chest. She had spent the morning dreaming of sharing a home with a man of her very own, but Carson Wagoner had not figured into the picture.
The hint of a smile crept onto her face as she looked down at the hand Carson had just kissed. He’s a dashing figure of a man if nothing else.
Rosie looked around her empty house. She felt the familiar pangs of a secret sadness she had grown so accustomed to over the years. A home. A family. That’s all she had ever wanted. It nearly broke her all those years ago when she’d had to choose between her ailing father and the man she loved.
Her eyes filled with fresh tears from old wounds as her mind flooded with memories. Roy had been the great love of her life. They were going to live and love until death parted them. But everything changed when her young beau caught gold fever.
Rosie’s finger traced a circle around the edge of the broach holding her collar in place. It had been a gift from her father on her sixteenth birthday. She blinked back her tears. Of course, I couldn’t leave daddy to go dig up gold. He’d have had no one to care for him during his last days.
She had turned down more than a few suitors while waiting for Roy to fulfill his promise to come back for her. Time had passed. He never came, and the flower of her youth faded. Now, she had a chance. A chance to live the life she had always dreamed of having.
Micah’s face came to mind once again. A jarring stab of guilt shot through Rosie’s stomach at the thought of entertaining the idea of marriage to another man.
“In eight long months, you’ve never spoken your intentions, Micah,” she mumbled the words to herself. “I’ve made the mistake of waiting too long before…”
“Pardon, ma’am?”
Rosie jumped at the sound of a man’s voice behind her, wincing at the rush of pain it caused.
“Sorry, ma’am. The name’s Cole. I work for Mr. Wagoner. I helped keep watch last night.”
“You just about scared the liver out of me. It’s nice to meet you.” She laughed. “Don’t mind me. I was just talking to myself.”
“Well, I’m glad to see you’re feeling better than you were last night, ma’am.” Cole smiled warmly and pumped some fresh water into the wash basin.
“Yes, me too. Help yourself to some corn bread. I’m going to head over to the general store for a bit.”
“I’ll come along. I can carry your supplies back to the house for you.”
Supplies? Rosie nodded her head absently as her mind raced to think of what supplies she could possibly need. Her pantry was well stocked. Her only reason for going to the general store was to get out of the house and clear her mind.
“Pickles,” she blurted.
Cole stared at her with a curious smile on his face. “Yes, ma’am. Pickles are a mighty fine treat.”
“I haven’t had a chance to put up any pickles this year. I need to get some pickles.”
“Well, let’s go pick us out the best jar of pickles that general store has to offer.” Cole offered Rosie his arm and they strode out the door; one in search of a delicious snack, the other in search of answers for her conflicted mind.
Chapter 6
A cool breeze greeted Rosie as she stepped into the open air with Cole. Gone was the heat from the day before. A strong north wind blew through town, displacing the warm weather for what she hoped was the final time that season. She filled her lungs with as much air as her corset would allow and savored its fresh scent.
The boarding house was the last building on Rosie’s side of the street and provided the best view in town of the wide open space just beyond the borders of Sweet Creek. Her eyes roved over the contours of the sprawling, grassy land. It rose and fell in soft rolling hills as far as she could see.
Memories of playing in those very hills as a child warmed her heart. She could almost hear the sound of her father’s hammer pounding away as he built the finest house on the street for his little girl. She longed for the days when choosing which flowers to place in her bouquet was the biggest decision she had to make.
The wild flowers of summer had faded, except for the purple blossoms of the wild sage bushes dotting the land. Leaves washed with a splash of silver reminded her that the days of the delicate bell-shaped blooms were numbered. Winter was coming.
Winter. It was closing in on her in more ways than one. How many more offers am I likely to receive?
“Ma’am?” Cole’s voice brought her back to the present. “Would you rather sit here and rest yourself?”
“No, no. I was just lost in thought. Let’s go on to the store.” Rosie tugged on the young man’s arm, and they walked down the stairs in step.
“I’m glad.” He looked down at her and winked. “My belly is sur
e to revolt if I don’t make good on my promise to stuff it full of juicy pickles.” He opened his mouth, and a rich laughter bubbled up from within him.
Rosie liked the sound of his laugh. It was pure, unbridled joy; the way she used to laugh. She decided then and there that she’d laugh that way again one day. She’d find her happiness.
A bright and smiling face behind the counter greeted them when they entered the general store.
“Emma dear, how are you?” said Rosie.
“I was going to ask you the same thing. You’re the talk of the town, Miss Rosie.” Emma’s light brown eyes were round with wonder.
“I’m doing fine.”
“That’s not what everyone says.”
A faint smile tugged on the corner of Rosie’s mouth. She could only imagine what wild gossip must be running rampant through town by now. “What is everyone saying?”
The young woman tucked some of her long, brunette tresses behind her ear. “Only that you were nearly killed last night by a band of desperate outlaws. That’s why the store is so empty. Nobody wants to go out.”
“Well, they’re not wrong.” Cole stretched his frame up to its full height. He smoothed his hand over his light, golden-brown hair and expanded his rib cage to capacity, fully filling out the chest of his plaid shirt.
Rosie stifled a giggle, wondering how long he would be able to hold his manly pose.
Cole used the cuff of his sleeve to polish the new badge pinned to his vest. “I’ve been tracking those varmints with Marshal Big Sky for the last few months.” He leaned casually on the counter with his thick forearm and grinned at the young woman. “But you’ve got nothing to worry about, Miss. The Marshall is hot on their trail, and I’ve stayed behind to provide extra protection.”
“Oh, how wonderful,” said Emma. Her eyes shined as she took in the view of the deputy standing in front of her. She blushed under the gaze of his blue-gray eyes.
Rosie looked on as the two young people stared speechless at one another.
“It’s my pleasure, ma’am,” Cole finally broke the silence. He tried to tip his hat but lost his grip. He dropped it on a jar of peppermint sticks, spilling them across the counter. “I’m awful sorry, Miss.” He scrambled to place the candies back into their container.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. A soft shade of pink bloomed in her cheeks. “Is there anything I can help you with today?”
“I… uh… I don’t…” Cole struggled to get the lid to sit on the jar properly.
Rosie couldn’t resist the urge to help him out any longer. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what we came here after. What would your stomach have to say about that?” Butterflies flittered in her stomach for Cole as she watched color fill the gaps in his scruffy beard and rise into the apples of his cheeks.
“Pickles!” Cole fairly shouted the word the moment the lid finally sunk into place. He slid the jar back to the side of the counter and gave it a gentle pat. “Miss Rosie and I would like to buy some pickles.”
“Don’t buy pickles here.” Emma’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “My aunt uses our family recipe when she puts up pickles to sell here in the store, but she doesn’t have the same knack for it that I do.”
“But Cole has a powerful hankerin’ for pickles.” Rosie’s lips twitched as they struggled to hold back a mischievous smile.
Cole lifted his hat once again and gave an awkward wave. “I’m Cole.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have a spare jar of your own pickles you’d be willing to share with a hungry cowboy, would you?” asked Rosie.
Emma’s eyelashes fluttered as she looked from Cole to Rosie. The soft shade of pink coloring her porcelain cheeks deepened. “I’m sure I can find a jar to spare.”
“How wonderful. You hear that, Cole?” Rosie glanced at the young man whose gaze was still riveted to the lovely young clerk. “Maybe you can bring them by the house tomorrow when you’ve got a few minutes to spare.”
“I sure will,” said Emma. “If you want something to tide you over until then, you should grab a few of these apples. Picked fresh from the orchard this morning.” The slender young woman struggled to lift an over-sized pail of fresh apples onto the counter. Just as she was about to set the bucket down, the metal handle snapped off. Apples rolled everywhere.
Cole chased the fruit down faster than a starving man who hadn’t eaten a bite of food in a month of Sundays. He put the apples in a half empty bushel basket at the end of the counter before inspecting the pail. “I think it’s salvageable,” said Cole. “I’ll take it over to the blacksmith’s for you. He shouldn’t have any trouble mending the handle.”
The two young people shared another moment of silence with each other before Rosie cleared her throat. “Emma, dear, is that a letter I see in the Sheriff’s mail slot?”
“Yes, my aunt and uncle have been away all day. I haven’t been able to leave the store to make the deliveries like I usually do.”
Rosie’s stomach jolted at the plot hatching inside her head. “I’ll be happy to deliver it for you.”
Only moments before, she had invented a way to get Cole and Emma together on the following day, and now she had come up with a scheme to get herself in the same room as Micah. You’re getting devious in your old age, Rosie.
“That would be such a help. Thank you, Miss Rosie.” Emma turned to the mail slots behind her and found the envelope addressed to Micah. She handed it to Rosie.
“I suppose we should be on our way,” said Rosie. “It was wonderful seeing you, dear.” She stole a sideways glance at Cole. “Feel free to come visit at the boarding house whenever you’d like, Emma.”
Cole followed Rosie to the door but turned around to face Emma once again. “I’ll drop this off with the blacksmith today.” He drummed on the side of the bucket with his fingertips and followed Rosie out the door.
Once they had taken a few steps into the street, Cole let out a holler. “Yeeee-haw! That’s how it’s done. That is how it is done!”
“How what’s done?” asked Rosie.
Cole held the broken pail out for Rosie to see. “This. It’s my key to seeing her again.”
“That pail and the pickles, you mean.” Her shoulders shook as her gentle laughter floated away on the breeze. “She is a lovely young lady, Cole.”
All of the levity drained from his face when he turned to look into Rosie’s eyes. “I’m going to marry that gal some day, Miss Rosie. I can feel it in my bones.”
“I think I like you, young man.” She gave his arm a squeeze. “I’ll be expecting an invitation. Why don’t you head on over to the blacksmith while I deliver this letter to the Sheriff?”
“Will do, Miss Rosie. I’ll see you back at the boarding house.” The long-legged cowboy strode off toward the other end of town.
Rosie stood alone in the street, clutching the envelope tightly in her hands. Finding an excuse to stop in to see Micah had seemed like such a good idea moments ago. Now that she was alone, she began having second thoughts. She tried to lick her lips, but her mouth had gone completely dry. The beat of her heart picked up its pace with every step she took. Cole has a bucket, and I have a letter. Let’s see where they take us.
Rosie and Micah had spent the last eight months avoiding these kinds of conversations. There had always been something between them, a spark that was too wonderful to put into words. But there had also been something else—a boundary she’d always felt Micah wasn’t willing to cross.
Now, she was about to go look the man she loved straight in the eyes and draw a line in the dust. If he wanted to be with her, he was going to have to cross that line. She’d tell him about Carson’s proposal. If he cared even half as much for her as she cared for him, he wouldn’t be able to stand by and let her marry another man.
Their relationship was about to change forever, and that thought sent an icy shiver down Rosie’s spine.
She climbed the jailhouse steps and stopped at the door. Her breath came in rapi
d, shallow bursts. A sudden gust of wind kicked up a stinging cloud of dust and debris. Rosie squeezed her eyes shut and placed a protective hand over her hair.
When she opened her eyes, she was looking up into the face of Micah Lagrange.
“Miss Rosie?”
Chapter 7
Micah stood frozen in place as his eyes took in the woman standing before him. Even with a bandaged head and slightly blackened eye, Rosie was the most beautiful woman in town. Every inch of his body ached to reach out and touch the silky, blond curls framing the delicate features of her face.
The sight of her standing on his doorstep stoked a fire in the pit of his stomach that he had almost given up on trying to extinguish. Only yesterday afternoon, he had been on the verge of sharing his heart with her before Carson interrupted. As frustrating as that moment had been, Micah was glad he hadn’t been able to speak the words trying so desperately to get out.
The events of last night had done nothing but strengthen his resolve. He and Rosie could never be more than what they were at that moment: friends.
He cleared his throat, attempting to free it from the knot that had taken up residence there.
“It’s awful good to see you, but should you be out and about?”
“Well, if you let me in, I won’t be out and about any more, will I?”
The twinkle in Rosie’s eye sent a tingle of excitement through his body. He immediately stepped aside. “I beg your pardon, ma’am. Come right on in.” He pulled his chair out from behind the desk and offered it to his guest.
“Thank you, Sheriff.” Rosie fluffed her skirt and took the seat Micah offered.
He pulled a three-legged stool from the back room he called home. “To what do I owe the pleasure? I’m not late for tea, am I?” He blew a strong puff of air from the corner of his mouth, clearing it of the stray mustache hairs trapped there.
