by Kristen Iten
“I was over at the general store just now and saw that you had mail.” Rosie held the envelope up for him to see.
“Thanks for bringing it by, but you didn’t have to go to all the trouble.”
“It’s no trouble at all. Besides, I thought it might be nice to chat for a bit.” Rosie shifted in her seat, fidgeting with the ruffles on her skirt before hiding her hands completely in their folds. “I was just thinking …”
Micah’s brows drew together as her words trailed off. He’d never seen her so ill at ease before. This was Miss Rosie. There was no one better at making people feel at home than her. Ever the image of kindness, poise, and playfulness, Rosie had an easy way about her, but at the moment, she looked like a scared calf ready to bolt.
“The outlaws,” she said. “Ha-have you heard any news about the outlaws from last night?” She smoothed her wind blown hair and bit her lower lip.
“No, ma’am. No news yet, but I’m sure Marshal Big Sky is on their trail. All we know is that they have a vendetta against your boarder.” Micah couldn’t bring himself to say Carson’s name out loud. Every time he did, it left a bad taste in his mouth.
“Funny you should bring him up.” An uncharacteristically high pitched giggle escaped Rosie’s lips. “He and I had a little talk before he left for the day.”
Micah sat quietly, waiting for her to finish her story. His heart beat erratically with anticipation. What words might come out of Carson Wagoner’s mouth was anybody’s guess.
“He said that he’s going to move to Washington after he’s elected.”
“If he’s elected,” Micah interjected.
“He seems pretty sure of a victory, and he wants me to come with him when he goes.” Rosie looked into her lap. “He’s asked me to marry him.”
Micah’s heart dropped into his stomach with sickening force. He sat, riveted to his chair, unable to speak. The man of few words had none to offer the woman who meant more to him than anyone had in the last twenty years. They sat in silence for a bit longer than was comfortable.
“I haven’t accepted yet.” She tore her gaze away from her skirt and looked into Micah’s eyes. “Do you have anything to say about it?”
He couldn’t help but notice the hope brimming in her eyes. It was the same look he had seen on several occasions that had tempted him to break his vow never to marry again. He swallowed hard and ran his palm down the length of his face.
“You should do what makes you happy.” His voice cracked as he choked the words out in a husky whisper.
The pain that speaking those words brought him paled in comparison to the stab he felt when hurt flashed in Rosie’s eyes. He’d sooner shoot himself in the foot than hurt her, but he couldn’t speak the words he longed to say.
Every ounce of his body wanted to scream, “No! You can’t marry that man.” But what did he have to offer her as an alternative? A lifetime of tea on the front porch was no future, and he couldn’t give her more than that. But Carson? Miss Rosie, you can do so much better than him.
“I’ll… I’ll do that.” She stood abruptly. Her shaky hands fumbled the envelope, and it landed at her feet. She and Micah stooped to pick it up.
Concern deepened the lines in Micah’s face when Rosie suddenly let go of the letter and placed a hand to the side of her head. Apparently overcome by her quick movements, she appeared as though she might faint. For the second time that day, he took her by the arms to steady her.
“Never mind that, Miss Rosie.” His voice was soft as he gently raised her to her feet.
“I’m all right now, thank you.”
Though the words sounded final, she didn’t pull away from his grasp. Micah searched her face and saw unspoken truths written there. She turned her head away as her eyes welled up with tears. He couldn’t bear to see her this way, knowing he was the cause.
His index finger hooked her chin and tenderly lifted her gaze to meet his own. His heart pounded in his chest as he became lost in the pools of her blue eyes. Every beat of his heart brought his lips closer to hers. He inhaled the sweet aroma of her perfumed hair.
Rosie closed her eyes and relaxed into him. At the last moment before their lips brushed, Micah turned away and rested his cheek against hers. He whispered softly in her ear, “I wish you all the happiness in the world that I can’t give you.”
He released her arm and took a step back. The single tear trickling down Rosie’s cheek pierced his heart. With a rustle of skirts and ruffles, she disappeared through the door.
Micah stood rooted in the same spot for a few moments before returning his chair to the desk. He dropped down into it and rested his forehead in the palms of his hands. He felt every bit a defeated man.
Reaching into his bottom drawer, he pulled out an old wooden box. Opening the lid, he removed something wrapped in a square of fabric. An unfinished embroidered pattern was stitched in the center.
Rough fingers traced over the raised, colored threads that decorated the material. His shoulders drooped when the fabric fell away revealing a worn picture frame surrounding the fading image of a young family.
A tall man wearing a badge stood beside a lovely young woman seated on a plush chair. She cradled an infant in her arms, and though they had been told not to smile for the photograph, Micah could still see the smile in her eyes.
He sighed long and deep. “I can’t let what happened to you happen to her. I just can’t.” He sat the picture in front of him on the desk and spent the rest of the afternoon with the memory of the family he had lost so long ago.
Chapter 8
After a few hours alone in her room, Rosie walked into her sitting room with red, puffy eyes. Carson had finished his business for the day and sat with Cole in the dimming light of early evening.
“There you are, Rose. I was wondering how long you were going to stay in that room of yours.” Carson raised his brows and wagged a finger in the air. “Exercise is the best medicine. Those who take to their beds with an ailment often end up dying there.”
Rosie couldn’t restrain her eye roll. “What time is it?”
“Past dinner time. I had to send Cole over to the general store to purchase a plate of stew for our dinner. It was passable but nothing like your delicious fare.” Carson leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach. “I’m afraid it’s going to give me terrible indigestion this evening.”
He stood and crossed the room to Rosie. He patted her shoulder and smiled warmly. “Don’t worry about me, though. I’ll be all right as long as I don’t have to eat that food a second day in a row.” He inclined his head and winked.
“You’ll take the price of tonight’s dinner off of my monthly bill, correct?” He took her hand in his and kissed each of her knuckles in turn. “Unless you have something to say to me, in which case I hardly expect that I’ll be paying any rent at all in the future.”
A perfect smile spread across his perfect face. Rosie looked him over; he was perfect; refined in every way. Such a contrast to the man she had left behind at the jail a few hours ago. Micah. Her cheeks flushed as his image flashed into her mind. Somehow, his scruffy chin, weather worn face, and unkempt hair seemed preferable to Carson’s polished facade.
But Micah didn’t want her—Carson did. The heart wants what the hart wants, I suppose. She blinked back her tears and slid her hand from Carson’s grasp.
Desperate to escape her own thoughts, she addressed Cole. “So you got to see Emma again?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Cole grinned like a little boy who had just stolen a snack from the cookie jar. Rosie listened as he praised everything about the young clerk. “As soon as the school is built, she’s going to be a school teacher. Imagine that. She has a real heart of gold.” He sighed and shook his head in wonder.
“This is good timing for the town,” said Carson. “The railroad should be here by spring. The town is really going to boom then. Lots of new families means lots of new children. I hope this Miss Emma is up for the challenge.”
“Oh, she is. All you have to do it talk to her for five minutes, and you can tell there ain’t nothing she can’t handle.” Cole leaned back in his chair and locked his fingers together across his stomach. A dreamy smile seemed to have taken up permanent residence on his face and spread from ear to ear.
“Careful, Cole, if you smile any bigger, you just might break your face.” Rosie laughed as she lit the oil lamps and took her seat in the corner.
She settled in with her knitting needles in hand and set about work on a small blanket with the soft yarn looped around her index finger. The needles clicked with a steady rhythm as she managed her stitches by feel.
Colonel hopped onto the open window frame of her shattered picture window. The golden-orange fur on his back stretched to cover his ever shifting shoulder blades as he crouched in place. He watched the ball of yarn with flattened ears and wide pupils. His broken tail twitched every time the yarn shifted in its basket.
Rosie paid him no mind. Her attention was fixed on the men seated across the room. Her eyes traveled from one man to the other as they interacted. Carson wasn’t a terrible man, a bit conceited perhaps, but overall he was decent. He didn’t love her in the same way she’d always dreamed of being loved, but his speech in the kitchen that morning had convinced her that he did care. Maybe once they were away from Sweet Creek her feelings for Micah would fade. Her gaze lingered on Carson as he listened eagerly to what Cole had to say.
He can listen to other voices besides his own. Most of his tiresome ways are probably because he’s in the middle of an election. She let out a small sigh as a sad smile curved the corners of her mouth upward. Washington was a world away from anything she had ever known, but maybe a change was what she needed.
Her thoughts drifted to what it would feel like to be truly loved and needed. Sure, she had spent the last twenty years meeting the needs of her guests, but it wasn’t the same as being needed by one man. She could help him; she knew it. Given enough time, she could probably even love him back.
A knock at the door roused her from the deep thoughts swirling in her mind. She rose to get the door, but Cole jumped to his feet with a raised hand.
“Don’t fret yourself, Miss Rosie. I’ll get it.” He smoothed his hair and ran his hand around the waistband of his britches, making sure his shirt was tucked in.
Cole’s behavior gave Rosie an inkling of who might be on the other side of the door. When he opened it, she wasn’t surprised to see a petite young woman with long brunette hair standing on her front porch. She wore a knitted shawl around her shoulders to protect against the chill of the quickly approaching night.
“I figured I’d go ahead and drop these off tonight, if that’s all right with you, Miss Rosie.” Emma’s words were directed at Rosie, but her eyes were locked onto the broad-shouldered man rooted in place with his hand still on the doorknob.
“Why, of course, it’s all right with me, dear. Come in out of the chill for a few minutes.”
“Y-yes, come in.” Cole was no longer a six-foot tall, sculpted doorstop. He relieved Emma of the heavy jar in her hands and offered her his seat. Before she took it, she went to Rosie and took hold of her hands.
“Miss Rosie, you look all done in.” Concern creased the forehead of the young would-be teacher.
“I’m fine.” Rosie’s features melted into the sweet smile she was known for. “It’s been quite a day for me.”
Emma gasped. “You’ve been crying! What’s wrong? Is there anything I can do to help?”
The soft words and look of concern in the kind young woman’s face caused Rosie to well up again. The emotions stirring deep inside threatened to break loose in one spectacular flood.
“It’s just that…” Her eyes blinked wildly, trying to hold back her stinging tears. “I’m a little overwrought at the moment…” She paused for a long moment, holding in a deep breath. “I got engaged today,” she blurted, accompanied by a sound that was something between a sob and a laugh.
Emma squealed like a school girl and wrapped Rosie in a bear hug. “It’s about time. Micah is one lucky man.”
Rosie’s face blanched as her eyes darted to Carson. He made his way across the room and threw an arm around her shoulders and gave them a good squeeze.
“We’re to be congratulated,” he said.
Emma’s wide eyes looked from Rosie to Carson and back again in stunned silence. Rosie managed a slight nod of her head.
“Well… I’m sure y’all will be very happy,” Emma said.
Cole reached out to shake his boss’s hand. “You sly dog. I didn’t even know you two were in love.”
Carson released Rosie to shake Cole’s hand. “Oh, we’re not in love. I explained everything to her this morning. I need a good woman by my side to make a favorable impression in Washington. There’ll be dinners, parties, galas, and balls. I don’t know how she’ll do at the latter events, but she’ll be the absolute star of the show when she plays hostess at our own dinner parties.”
He clapped his hands together and rubbed them together greedily. “Yes, it’s all coming together.” He leaned over and pecked Rosie on the cheek. “You are one lucky lady. You’ll love it in Washington.”
Rosie couldn’t bring herself to speak. He doesn’t love me—not even a little. Flaming red blood rushed into her cheeks and spread with blotches into her ears and neck. The room began to spin as Carson’s revelation sunk in. Her chest rose and fell quickly as she grappled with how she could have misunderstood him so completely that morning.
His speech echoed in her mind, “You make dark days bright and cold nights warm.” She’d been certain that had been a profession of love.
At that moment, Titus clattered through the front door looking exhausted from a full day of running errands for the campaign. He carried an over-sized box of papers and wore a tired, but triumphant expression on his face.
“Titus,” Carson called out, “just the man I wanted to see.”
“It’s been a good day, Carson. You’re going to like the news I have for you. I’ve been working all day—didn’t even spare a moment to grab a bite to eat.”
“That’s fabulous, but there’s no time to think of food just yet.” Carson slapped him on the back. “I’ve got another job for you. Run out to the telegraph office immediately and wire all of the papers. I’ve just gotten engaged!”
Titus’s eyes grew as large and round as the spectacles perched precariously on the bridge of his nose. “Voters love a family man. This couldn’t have come at a more opportune time. Excellent strategy.”
“Off you go. I want the news on the front page of every paper in the state of Texas tomorrow morning.” Titus plopped his box in the middle of the floor and headed back out the door. Carson grabbed him by the shoulder and stopped him before he left. “Make sure to use the name Rose Porter, not Rosie. We want to put our best foot forward, am I right, my dear?”
Rosie managed one final nod of her head before excusing herself to go lie down once again. She felt Emma’s sad eyes on her while Carson’s voice followed her down the hallway as she went.
“Don’t forget what I said about those who take to their bed, Rose. I wouldn’t want you to develop a weak constitution before our big move.”
Rosie’s body leaned on the solid oak of her bedroom door when she closed it behind her. What have I done? She rested her hand on her stomach. All of the emotions from the day seemed to have settled there in one sickening, churning mass. The sound of voices drifting through the walls only served to make her feel more alone.
Her sole source of comfort was off limits. Her thoughts drifted to the memory of Micah’s strong hands supporting her earlier that day. She placed her hand on her cheek where his warm breath had whispered the words that had broken her heart. If only you loved me the way I love you. She slid down the length of the door. The darkness of night enveloped her as she sat and wept silent tears.
Chapter 9
The next morning brought with it an
overcast sky and more blustering winds. Micah sat at his pine desk desperate to keep his mind off of the events that had transpired the day before. He sorted the latest wanted posters, drumming his fingers on the smooth surface in front of him.
The sound of a horse snorting just outside the window caught his attention. He tipped his chair on its two back legs and craned his neck to get a better view.
A man of average height stood with his back to the window, wrapping his reins around the hitching post. Shiny hair the color of a raven’s feather hung down to the middle of his back. It was gathered together and wrapped in a beaded leather thong at the base of his neck. The silky strands glided freely over the man’s black leather vest with every move he made.
Micah got to his feet when he recognized the rider. If Marshal Big Sky was here, he must have news. Floor boards creaked beneath his boots as he walked to the small stove across the room. He blew a puff of air into a spare tin cup to clear it from the dust that had settled inside. Years of living a life on the trail with Sky had taught him that he’d get nothing out of him until a steaming cup of hot coffee was in his hands.
He had just finished filling the cup when his old friend stepped through the door.
“It’s no wonder you’ve gone soft, old man.”
Micah turned to see the teasing grin he knew so well. “Soft?”
“Look at this place. You’ve got walls, windows, and a warm stove. All I’ve got to protect me on days like this are my wits. This is fine living, Sheriff.”
Micah raised the piping hot cup of coffee to his nose, inhaling deeply. “That’s no way to talk to the man who controls the coffee.” His deep voice was laced with playfulness. He walked over to Sky and clapped him on the shoulder before handing him the cup. “It’s good to see you.”
Sky closed his eyes and used his hand to wave the scent of the brew to his nose. “Ah, that’s the stuff.” His eyes suddenly popped wide open. “Any sugar?” He raised his brows in quick succession and beamed from ear to ear.
