She was crying.
He’d made her cry.
He didn’t know what had prompted her tears, which meant he didn’t know how to fix it for her.
“Rose,” he murmured. He reached out but didn’t quite touch her. Not until she turned toward him.
He let his arm go around her as she buried her face in his chest and clung to him.
His other arm came up and his hand cupped the back of her head, his work-calloused fingers catching in the fine hairs at her nape.
“Hey, hey.” His response to the show of her emotion made his voice rough. “I’m sorry if I got it wrong. Christmas is coming, and I’ll get you something frilly and fancy.”
She shook her head, wiping at her face and drawing back some. He fished his handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed it into her hands.
“It’s not that,” she said, voice muffled through the fabric. “They are very thoughtful gifts.”
She looked up at him, and her eyes were clearer than they’d ever been.
She reached up and placed her palm against his cheek. He felt the smoothness of her skin against the slight bristles that had grown since his shave this morning.
The moment was almost more intimate than a kiss, but he didn’t back away from it. He stood, letting her look into his eyes, his soul even. Letting her see that he would never hurt her, wanted only the best for her.
Finally, she smiled a little and dropped her hand, then moved away. “Will you help me put the boots on? I can’t see my feet anymore.”
He followed her to the bed where she sat down, and he knelt at her feet. He had the feeling they’d turned some corner. If it got her to trust him more fully, he was happy.
He helped her off with the worn city-girl shoes and on with the boots, then helped her slip into the coat. Finally, she wrapped the scarf around her neck, tucking it down in the lapels of the coat. He let his fingers linger on her shoulders, enjoying the simple intimacies of being together like this.
He’d left his coat and hat over Pa’s chair and donned them now. “I’m just warning you, the boys are probably going to make a fuss when we leave this room. You wanna run out to where the horses are tethered?”
She looked at him with an expression of trepidation for a moment and then gave a tentative grin.
He extended his bent elbow, and she held on.
True to form, his brothers and Breanna and the kids had lined up inside the front door. When Davy and Rose appeared, they started clapping and stomping and whistling.
From the kitchen, Jonas and Penny and the preacher watched.
They ran through, into the cold outside air.
And she laughed, an exhilarated, unladylike chortle.
He laughed in answer, a burst of joy.
* * *
While the ride down the mountain had been filled with terror and pain that seemed to last forever, the ride back through the snowy landscape went quickly as Davy regaled her with more stories about his ornery brothers and how their family had come together over the years. This time she had faces to go with the names.
She rode her own mount, though Davy held the reins for her and kept her mount to a walk.
She was his family now. His wife. Part of the larger White clan.
She would remember the surprise of his wedding gift for as long as she lived. Maybe another woman would’ve wanted baubles or lace or other impracticalities, but Davy had given her what she needed.
She buried her nose in the fuzzy knitted scarf.
Jamie had rarely thought of her needs, always worried about his own.
She knew her tears must’ve surprised or confounded him—they always had Jamie—but he hadn’t become irritated with her, only held her until she’d calmed.
He was nothing like her first husband. And maybe it was time she began counting Davy’s own merits, not judging him against what she’d known before.
It was snowing softly when they rode into the small clearing where the cabin rested. Smoke curled from the chimney. Was someone here?
The fragile peace she’d known since they’d left the Whites’ ranch wobbled.
But Davy was unruffled. “I asked Matty and Seb to come up here this morning. I asked them to feed the fire so we wouldn’t have to start from scratch when we got up here.”
He helped her dismount and the little white dog ran up from out of the woods. He was wiggling like crazy, covered in mud and his fur was matted.
“There you are, you little rascal,” Davy greeted the dog. “How’d you get out of the lean-to?”
The animal put its paws on Rose’s knees, its tongue lolling out of a wide doggie smile.
Davy nudged it off. “Quit jumping on my wife.”
His wife. They both froze a little and stared at each other as the newness sank in.
Then the dog barked and the moment was broken. It jumped around Davy’s feet. He laughed. “You hungry, friend?”
He gathered the horses’ reins and their eyes met and locked again. This new awareness between them made her stomach swoop in a most unnerving way. “I’ll tuck these fellas into the lean-to and meet you inside, all right?”
She nodded, swallowed hard. She was so afraid of breaking the fragile new awareness between them, but she couldn’t exactly follow him to the lean-to. She probably should start supper.
The little dog followed her to the stoop, but when she pushed open the door she froze on the threshold. The dog scooted past her, sniffing at the floor and the new, larger bed that dominated the corner.
Where the double top and bottom bunks had been, now there was a box bed with a quilt spread across it. And two pillows.
It was a blatant reminder that everything had changed.
She must’ve stood there for longer than she’d intended, because Davy came up behind her, his footsteps crunching through the snow.
Face hot, she stepped inside and began shedding her coat and scarf, hanging both on a peg near the door with shaking hands.
“Everything okay?” he asked as he stepped inside.
“Mmm-hmm.”
Davy’s tread was heavy and her embarrassment kept her from looking to him. He went toward the bed and set an armful of parcels on it.
He passed her as he moved toward the pegs near the door and she moved toward the kitchen.
She was aware of him taking off his coat and hanging it on the peg. His very presence seemed to fill the one-room cabin and had since the beginning.
She forced herself to focus on a task. Any task. Making supper.
The shelves were stocked. Barrels on the floor that hadn’t been there before were marked Flour and Sugar.
He’d set in more provisions than had been here before. Maybe it was because there were two of them and he’d been planning to be here alone before. Or maybe he’d done it to put her mind at ease.
It worked. She no longer felt as though this was her prison. Not only was there food, but she had a map. She could bridle a horse if things were desperate and she needed to ride for help. All because of him.
He moved closer and bent to check the fire in the stove’s belly. “I’m not all that hungry after the spread ma put together earlier. Maybe just scramble some eggs and make some toast?”
She did, heating a cast-iron skillet and cracking the eggs so that they sizzled. “Your brothers were busy up here,” she said.
He’d gone back to rifle through the brown-wrapped packages he’d deposited on the bed earlier, and then began putting them underneath the bed.
“It’s what my family does,” he said simply.
They passed a quiet meal together, the white dog begging at their feet until Davy took pity on him.
“He needs a bath,” she said with a wrinkle of her nose. Indoors, with him underfoot, she no
ticed a distinct smell of dirty, wet dog that hadn’t been obvious outside.
“I’ll do it after supper,” Davy said easily. “I figure you’re exhausted from all the excitement of today and might want to settle in for an early night.”
She was exhausted. But the reminder that they would be sharing that bed tonight sent a nervous flip through her stomach and her fork clanked against her plate.
* * *
Evening was falling, darkness gathering outside. Davy knew something was eating at Rose as she cleaned up the supper dishes and he brought several pots of water to a boil before pouring them into a bucket. He’d spread towels over the floor, knowing the dog wasn’t going to take to the bath, but it would probably be too cold for the dog to sleep outdoors just so they would have peace from its odor.
He would lock it in the lean-to, but Rose seemed to take some comfort from the animal and he wanted to please her.
She scrubbed the dishes almost violently as he held the dog in the tub of water and scrubbed it with lye soap.
The dog looked at him with baleful eyes.
Both of his companions were out of sorts, but he felt peace. He’d done it. He’d convinced Rose to marry him and still found a way to take care of the investment he’d made in the winter herd.
When Rose folded the dish towel on the work counter and paced toward the bed and then swiftly turned away, he took a guess as to what was wrong.
She was worried about them sharing the bed.
He doused the dog with water, rinsing clean the soap. “Can you hand me the towel?”
He had set it just out of reach on one of the kitchen chairs.
She brought it to him and he lifted the dog. Its soaked fur clung to its body, making it look smaller than usual.
“I’ll hold him still if you’ll rub him dry. He’s going to try and shake off—”
She knelt shoulder to shoulder with him as the dog tried to twist in his hands.
When they let the dog go, it tried to shake but most of the water had been absorbed by the towel. The dog took off, circling the room wildly.
Rose laughed. The surprised joyful noise pulled a laugh from him, as well. Their eyes met and the moment stretched between them.
He reached out, tangled his fingers with hers.
He saw the moment when fearful thoughts clouded her eyes and her smile faded. He squeezed her hand before she could attempt to pull away.
“I’m not going to ask for more than you can give,” he said quietly. “I can wait for you.”
Now her eyes dropped. “What if...?” she whispered. “What if you get tired of being the one doing all the giving?”
He squeezed her hand again. “I won’t. You’ll have to trust me.”
She was quiet as they readied for bed. The dog curled up on the rug before the fire.
Davy stoked the fire before he blew out the lamp and joined her. He lay with one arm behind his head, staring up into the darkness.
She was perfectly still, as if she was afraid to move and accidentally bump him. How could he put her at ease?
“I slept on the floor the first night at Jonas’s place,” he said.
He heard her head turn on the pillow, though he doubted she could see him in the dark. He had the sense she was listening.
“I was fourteen,” he went on. “And I was so used to sleeping on the loft floor, or outdoors since Ricky and I had taken up together, that I couldn’t sleep in the bed. I must’ve tossed and turned for hours before I took the blanket and laid it out on the floor.”
There was a soft threat of humor in her voice when she said, “And I forced you to sleep out in the lean-to.”
Her gentle tease opened something in his heart. Maybe winning her was like winning a shy horse. He would be patient until she learned he meant her no harm.
“I think I was more worried that it wasn’t going to last than anything else. That Ricky and I would be put out on our own again.”
She hummed softly.
“It took a while for me to feel a part of Jonas’s family. And now I can’t imagine not being a part of this family. And I’m hoping you’ll discover you fit in this family, as well.”
* * *
Rose remained awake for a long time in the darkness after her husband’s breath had evened out in sleep. She played Davy’s words over in her mind. He wanted her to feel a part of his family, but how could she when his mother had been against their marriage?
She couldn’t blame Penny; Rose had had the same reservations. But she didn’t feel welcome, either.
Except with Davy. He’d made her a part of his family by marrying her. He would give her baby his name, a place to belong.
She just had to go forward and not mess anything up. How difficult could it be?
Chapter Twelve
Rose woke alone in the bed to a particularly violent kick from the babe in her womb. Sunlight streamed through the cabin window. The air on her face was cool but not cold, though she was roasting beneath the blankets. She kicked them loose, since Davy wasn’t inside to see her plain, long white nightgown that Davy’s sister-in-law had given her.
The room smelled of strong coffee, and from the way the fire crackled in the stove, she guessed Davy had tended it. But there was no husband.
Davy had said he wanted to check on the cattle first thing this morning. Had he already gone?
And why did that send a bolt of fear through her? He’d told her he wouldn’t leave her without a horse, without a way down the mountain if something should happen to him.
The little dog put its paws on the edge of the bed, which prompted her to sit up and finally get out of bed.
At least it was sunny outside. She didn’t have to worry about her husband being caught out in a snowstorm.
At the kitchen table she found a small brown-wrapped parcel. A note on a scrap of paper read: Rosie, make something special for the little one today.
She untied the twine and found a length of soft butter-yellow fabric, needles and a spool of white thread.
He’d bought these things for the baby?
His gesture was kind, but on top of his other kindnesses...they’d begun to pile up on her without her notice. And she had nothing to give him in return. How long before he figured that out?
Maybe if she worked hard enough at providing for his comforts it would even the score a bit. If she could discover what his favorite meals were she could attempt to cook them. If his clothing needed mending she could do that for him.
Then she had a terrible thought. Christmas was coming. What could she possible give him? She had a home now, but no money, and town was several hours away on horseback.
She touched the soft material again. She could make a fine little gown out of this for the baby.
It was a thoughtful gesture. She was thankful for it, even if it tipped the scales of what the cowboy had done for her so much that she feared she would never even it out.
How could she help but like such a man?
* * *
Davy rode up to the line shack later than he’d intended to. Driving several strays back to the herd had taken him longer than he’d thought and darkness had fallen as he’d made his way home.
Home.
It seemed strange to think of the line shack that way, but maybe it was the person waiting inside more than the place.
That was how it had begun with Jonas and the boys. Being accepted into the family, getting to know one another, learning each other’s quirks. Why should he expect this to be any different?
He whistled loudly as he rode into the clearing so she would know it was him.
He could hear the dog making a racket inside and then the door opened, sending a shaft of yellow light into the darkness.
“It’s me,” h
e called out.
Rose’s head peeked past the door frame.
The dog ran out into the drifted snow, barking a happy welcome.
There was a flurry of movement just inside the door, and then Rose called out to him.
He couldn’t make out her words but there was something in her tone—worry or uncertainty—that made him pull up his horse when he would have kept walking it toward the lean-to.
She was stuffing her arms into the coat he’d given her at the same time she moved through the door.
He held the horse’s reins loosely in one hand as he went to meet her.
“Everything okay?” he asked at the same time as she said, “You were gone a long time.”
His heart lodged in his throat. Had she been worried for him? Was this a sign that she was starting to care for him?
“Can I come out to the lean-to with you?”
The uncertainty in her voice was like a discordant note. “Of course.” Their boots crunched through the packed snow. He reached a hand to her, supported beneath her elbow just in case she slipped. “You tired of being cooped up inside all day?”
“Oh...no, not exactly.”
He pushed open the door to the lean-to. “Hold him a minute while I strike the lamp.”
She took the horse’s reins and he fumbled for the lamp, managing to light it without too much trouble.
In the flickering orange light, he saw the lines bracketing her mouth and shadows beneath her eyes. Was she simply tired? He knew his ma was always extra tired when she was carrying a babe. He didn’t want to push, not when Rose was finally starting to open up to him.
“It’s a pretty mild night, so I’m gonna turn him out in the corral with the other two. Let’s get him brushed down first. You mind helping?”
She gave him a more animated smile this time. “Of course not. You must be tired, riding out in the cold all day.”
“I’m all right,” he told her. “Used to it.”
He fetched a bucket of sweet-smelling oats from inside the lean-to and hung it on the nearest post. The horse nosed inside it immediately, looking for his supper.
Her Convenient Cowboy Page 13
