by Joyce Alec
Rose brightened. “She is a wonderful woman, and has been a good friend to me since I have arrived.”
“I think she would be rather sad if you left town,” he went on.
“I think I would be sad to lose the only person I could consider a friend as well,” Rose replied.
They spent the rest of the morning discussing various interests they had. She discovered that he also enjoyed rainstorms, and had once helped nurse a baby bird back to health. She told him of the caves of snow she would make in the winter to hide in, where she could read in private, and share stories with her young friends.
They had a great deal in common. They both loved books, yes, but they also shared a love for tales of virtue and honor, of mystery and suspense. They loved the same authors, had cherished the same titles. The more they spoke, the more they discovered they had in common.
It wasn’t until Dorothy came in to offer them afternoon tea that they had realized how long they had been talking. Travis rushed off to finish his afternoon chores, and Rose went to the kitchen to help Dorothy prepare for dinner.
“I…couldn’t help but overhear something you said earlier,” Dorothy told her as they peeled potatoes together. “I am sorry for being so nosy.”
“It’s quite all right,” Rose said. “I said nothing that I was ashamed of.”
“Did you really think that you were going to leave?” Dorothy asked.
“Leave?”
“The town! Go somewhere else!” Dorothy said. “Look, I don’t care what happens between you and my brother. I want you to stay here. We can still be your family, even if you don’t marry into it…however…” she cast a sidelong look at Rose. “I think the odds of that happening are far greater with each passing second.”
Rose shrugged her shoulders. “Travis is wonderful. He is very kind, very honest, very upfront about what he is thinking. I appreciate the fact that he was not shy to discuss the letters, and he has seemed genuinely interested in what I have to say…”
“And I can tell that he is greatly enjoying getting to know you,” Dorothy said. “I have not seen him sit and talk to someone for so long that they lost track of time the way you two did today. Not ever.”
Rose smiled in spite of herself. “Well, I suppose that is rather easy when two people who love books get together.”
“I am quite serious, Rose,” Dorothy said. “Travis would have chosen you had he known you existed. In retrospect, I should have brought your advertisement to him and allowed him to choose whether to write to you—which, by the way, I truly believe he would have—but I was afraid that he would think it far too great of a chance to work out, and just dismiss it. You and your advertisement seemed worth the risk. And if men are stubborn sometimes, then so be it. They have women in their lives to help them, right? I was just doing my job as his sister.”
Rose and Dorothy laughed as they worked, and as they discussed Travis even more, Rose’s feelings toward the man began to change. It was far less like how she felt about her favorite characters in her favorite books now, and far more like how she hoped that she might one day feel about a real, living, breathing man. She could see him, hear him, reach out and touch him if she pleased.
He wasn’t a figment of her imagination.
And sometimes, she told herself, maybe people really do experience the romances in stories. For the first time, she wondered if all great romances were inspired by relationships that had actually existed.
5
Rose was grateful for George and Dorothy’s hospitality, even though she didn’t know what Travis would ultimately choose. Things were going well for them, all things considering. And Dorothy was insistent that he was going to propose; he was just greatly enjoying getting to know her, and wanted to be sure that she was comfortable with it, too.
Well, she wasn’t entirely sure if she was comfortable with it. Not really. Not that she wouldn’t want to marry him. No…she was uncomfortable because she feared that he would end up refusing her, even though her feelings for him were growing more and more every day. Every time they were together, it was as if there was a great unspoken question between them;
What were they going to choose?
She worried that he would be like everyone else in her life, and once she was out of his sight, she would be out of his mind. And then she would have nothing more than a broken heart to remember him.
September arrived, and with it came cool breezes, ruby leaves and golden grass. Rose found that she appreciated the fall in Colorado better than she had in Pennsylvania. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that she had people that she cared about to share it with. Dorothy, with whom she was becoming very attached, was beginning to treat her like what Rose imagined a sister would. She was happy, and had a contagious laugh. George was wonderful too, and would spend a great amount of time telling her all sorts of stories about the frontier and his family who were gold miners.
Travis would stop by every evening, spend some time with them all, and Rose found herself looking forward to it more and more each night. There was certainly some tension in the air between them, but she was determined to enjoy the time that she did have with him.
Dorothy announced one evening that they were going to have a big dinner for George’s birthday, and invite all their friends from town over for some fun and conversation. Dorothy was overwhelmed. Who was she going to claim that she was to Dorothy?
“A friend, sweetheart,” Dorothy told her when Rose brought this up. “We don’t need to tell everyone your entire life story. Just enough to be polite.”
Still, she was nervous.
The night of the party arrived, along with a slew of guests who were waiting to greet George and wish him well on his birthday. Rose hovered near the door to the kitchen, eager for Dorothy to give her an order so she could slip away from the crowd into the quiet beside the cooking pot. But Dorothy must have sensed her desire for solitude, for she continued to push her out into the room, especially toward Travis.
Travis seemed to be quite the popular man. Everyone seemed to know him, and they all were eager to speak with him. She watched as person after person, a few young women included, would walk over to him and ask him questions or tell him a story, and he would politely listen to them all. He was kind and patient, and Rose found herself content to just watch him.
“Good evening.”
Rose nearly dropped the plate she had been holding; on her way back to the kitchen, she was stopped by a young man with sandy blonde hair and green eyes. His smile was wide, and he was wearing a wide brimmed hat.
“Uh…good evening,” Rose replied, pushing a stray curl from in front of her ear.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” the man said heartily, holding out a hand to her. “The name’s Carl Stevens.”
“Rose Samson,” Rose replied, shaking his hand.
“Rose? Well, that’s a pretty name,” he said. “Where you from, Rose?”
“Pennsylvania,” she replied. “And where are you from?”
He laughed. “Montana, actually. My brother and I moved down here with our old man about six years ago to work in the quarry. It’s back-breaking work, but it certainly has allowed us to build up this town to be what it is. How long you been here, Rose?”
“About three weeks, now,” she said.
“And how are you liking it?”
“It’s lovely,” she said. “I find it far more pleasing than Philadelphia.”
“Philadelphia? You don’t say,” Carl said, tipping his hat. “My cousin moved out there not long ago. Something about working for the papers.” He shook his head. “Don’t see the appeal, myself. I think I’d go crazy living in such a populated place.”
“I understand,” Rose said. “That was part of the reason I came out here.”
“And what was the other reason?”
“To be with me, of course.”
Travis had appeared, grinning broadly as he stepped up beside Rose.
Her heart be
gan to beat rapidly, and she felt color rise in her cheeks. It was inevitable now, whenever he appeared.
“To be with you, Travis?” Carl said, laughing. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, you didn’t know?” Travis said. He reached over and put an arm around her, pulling her close to his side. Her shoulder pressed up against his chest, and she could feel the warmth of his body against hers.
She froze.
“We are engaged,” Travis said.
Carl and Rose both looked up at Travis with wide eyes.
“Engaged?” Carl said.
Rose recovered quickly, smoothing the features of her face. She smiled, rather liking the sound of those words, having played them over in her mind time and time again.
“Yes,” Travis replied, nodding his head. “You won’t believe this, but I found her advertisement in the paper. The idea of Colorado appealed to her, so she moved out here so that we could be married.”
That was the condensed version of it, and he was covering his sister’s tracks. He really was a good man.
“I…I didn’t know,” Carl said. “Well, congratulations, both of you. I hope that we can be fast friends. Maybe you could even help me find a wife in the same way, Travis. Heaven knows I could do with a good wife.”
He tipped his hat to her again. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Miss Samson. I’ll be seeing you around.”
And with that, he wound his way back through the crowded room.
Rose turned on him. In a muffled voice, she said, “Engaged? Since when are we engaged?”
He grinned and led her through the busy dining room toward the entrance hall, his arm still wrapped around her. It was quieter in there, and Rose felt like she could finally breathe again.
“I thought that you needed some help,” Travis said. “You were uncomfortable. I could see it written all over your face.”
“Was it that obvious?” Rose asked, twisting the fabric of sleeve of her dress.
He nodded. “Carl’s a nice guy, but he’s not right for you.”
She furrowed her brow. “What do you mean, not right for me? We were merely conversing, I had no intention of—”
“Oh, but he was,” Travis said. “A single man like him, meeting a beautiful woman like you?” He laughed. “Oh, come now. Surely you can see that he was hoping that you would notice him so that he wouldn’t have to be lonely any longer.”
Her cheeks burned. He thought she was beautiful?
He reached his hand behind his head and scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepishly at his feet.
“Really…I don’t think that any man in town is good enough for you, honestly.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “I have not been looking. I haven’t even been thinking—”
“I was jealous, to be honest,” Travis said quietly, his eyes returning to hers.
“Jealous of what?”
“Carl, talking to you, attempting to get you to notice him. I haven’t had to compete with any other men. I have had the luxury of having your undivided attention. I never thought what it would be like to have to watch you speak to another man…but I’ll be honest, I didn’t care much for it.” He winked at her. “We are supposed to be getting married, right?”
The both of them started laughing. The whole idea, the whole situation, was just so funny that neither of them could take it anymore. They laughed and laughed, and Rose felt a great weight lift from her chest.
“But Rose…I really would like to get to know you better. I have been very happy to spend time with you these last few weeks. If I had made you upset in anyway, I apologize. I was also trying to keep my distance, unsure of what you wanted. I thought for sure that when you found out that it wasn’t me who had been writing to you that you would want to turn around and head home.”
“I told you…I have nowhere else to go,” Rose replied.
“Even still…I have been hoping, waiting, attempting to be patient and learn more about you, so I could tell if you were truly interested in me.”
Rose stared up at him, feeling her heart tighten in her chest.
“I know that it was Dorothy who was writing to you, but…if I had known, if it had been up to me…I would have chosen you, too.”
Rose felt as if she would burst. She beamed up at him.
“I thought that the very sight of me would make you think of what your sister had gone ahead and done without your permission. I was sure that I would always remind you that I had barged in on your life, intruded where I shouldn’t have. I didn’t want you to feel any pressure to marry me just because I was here. I thought that you were being nice and stalling for time these last few weeks, too much of a gentleman to turn me down.”
He laughed again. “Oh, heavens, no, of course not! I just didn’t want to be presumptuous and make you feel uncomfortable, or as if I was coming on too strong.”
“There was no way,” Rose replied. “I came all this way so that I could marry a man who loved books as much as I did, who wanted nothing more than a simple life with a woman who he could come home and share a warm meal with, someone who would want to explore with him, and take on adventures. Those were all things I wanted, and when I found out that it was your sister, I worried that that man didn’t exist. But…”
She stared up at him, her eyes starting to sting, tears forming.
“You really are that man, and even more than I could have ever hoped for.”
Travis beamed at her. “Oh…Rose, I am so glad to hear you say that. I worried that Dorothy had made me out to be this unreachable sort of man, perfect beyond reason. I am glad to see that you are still pleased with me as I am.”
“Overjoyed, more like,” Rose said, giggling.
He turned and he pushed the front door open, letting the cool evening in.
“Why don’t we go and have a quiet chat out here, just the two of us? Maybe see what our future holds…together?”
And so they did, sitting side by side as the stars overhead glittered and shimmered, reflecting off of the lake at the bottom of the hill, like their hopes and dreams for the future.
THE END
Part IV
The Best Choice
By Eleanor Swan
1
Texas, 1887
Timothy Williams stepped out into the first light of dawn, inhaling deeply the scent of the pine trees and the fresh grass. Birds sang to one another in the trees overhead, and there was a pleasant breeze for a late spring morning in Texas.
His dog, Charlie, barked happily, as he raced down the narrow stone path from the house, his black and white body a great contrast to the bright green of the grass. His tail wagged happily.
Dew sparkled on the ground as he made his way to the barn, and the clouds in the sky were tinged with ruby reds and daisy yellows.
He was a tall man, with broad shoulders, chestnut hair, and a closely-trimmed beard. He found it far too much effort to remain completely clean shaven, but he also disliked the appearance of a scraggly beard. He found this way to be the most efficient. His eyes were like honey, pale brown with just the slightest hint of green in the right light.
He enjoyed getting to the barn before the farmhands did. He much preferred the quiet solace that he could have without their presence, grooming the horses or tending to the sheep. He would allow the cattle out to the pasture and watch as they began their grazing.
Some people considered the rancher’s life to be a tough one.
Codswallop, Timothy thought.
It was the greatest life he could imagine. Every day he rose the with the sun, and he enjoyed its warmth the whole day. When the sun retired, he retired as well, earning a well-deserved night’s rest in his large, warm bed. He was able to spend the entire day with more steer or horses than men. He often preferred the clucks of the hens to men’s grumbling.
Because that was all that men would do, and Timothy was rather tired of it.
He supposed it was partially because he had spent twelve years wo
rking in the mines to help bring in some extra money to the ranch that his father owned. The men that worked there were kind enough, but were often vulgar, or brash, or violent towards each other. Long days and little time away from one another made tensions grow, and when people were stuck down below ground with no chance to see sunlight, it often led to confrontation.
When his father passed away, he stepped in to fill his shoes at the tender age of sixteen. He was the only child, so even though he was young, he was the only one who could take over his father’s role.
His mother had been displeased, partially because her husband had passed away, but also because Timothy had been so young to become the ranch owner.
“Your father specifically said that he would only give you the ranch when you were well established and married, with the ability to take the ownership of the ranch seriously.”
Timothy’s father had never been the kindest man. All business, but not very good at managing monetary gains. Timothy was resourceful and believed in saving money and investing in the business, rather than spending frivolously. He saw a great increase in the wealth the ranch produced when he took over.
Still, his mother was unaccepting of his position.
“You must get married,” she said the day that Timothy turned eighteen. “You are more than old enough.”
“Mother, I think that you are taking Father’s wishes a bit too far, aren’t you? His circumstances were very vague, as he was still planning to be alive. But now that he is gone, who else is there to take over the ranch?”
She hadn’t liked that answer, and it was certainly difficult for her to agree with it. But that didn’t mean that it wasn’t the truth.
In all honesty, Timothy knew he didn’t want to be married. He had just inherited this great stretch of land, and he wanted to focus his attention on the ranch, not on a woman.
After his father died, Timothy’s mother moved in with her sister, Timothy’s aunt, and her husband. She said she couldn’t bear to live in that farmhouse without her husband.
