“I live here,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
Astonished, Rosa was speechless for a second before she replied, “You live here?
He crooked a brow, his sardonic expression daring her to question him further. When she did not, he said, “I asked what you were doing here.”
“I work here.”
Myriad emotions flickered across his dark expression, not the least of which was impatience. Then he shuttered his gaze and merely stared. The slight flare of his nostrils gave his anger away.
Used to dealing with Guido, as well of the rest of her volatile family, she refused to let him intimidate her. With them, the tears, the shouting, and the anger came and went as quickly as the easy laughter and binding love that they shared; their emotions gathered and dispersed as easily as storm clouds before and after a summer shower. But Marshal Kase Storm was becoming more and more a puzzle to her. Each time she saw him, he either remained willfully silent or demanded that she leave Wyoming. She could not forgive the way he had tried to instill fear in her by using his touch to frighten her and by kissing her so roughly. But she could not understand why he still seemed so upset. If only he would tell her why he objected so to her staying in Busted Heel. What was it about her that maddened him? What did he want from her? Until she knew why he was so hostile toward her, Rosa felt she would never understand him.
Kase Storm watched her stand up to him and wondered why Rose’s every act seemed to goad his temper to the limit. Her stubborn determination to put herself into harm’s way was becoming more of a strain on his self-control. He was so angry he did not stop to weigh her words, nor did he take in the rag tied about her head or her worn clothing. When she admitted she worked at Flossie’s he immediately assumed the worst— that her circumstances had forced her to give up her respectability—and he knew if she had only listened to him and gone home, none of this would have happened.
He had come in late last night, after he made one last tour of the town, checked locked doors, paused outside her place, and then moved on. Had she been here at Flossie’s all that time? Had she been lying beneath some cowhand under the very roof where he slept? “Since when have you been working here?”
“Since now. Today.”
As if that settled the matter, he reached out without warning and grabbed her wrist. Before she could do more man sputter her outrage in an attempt to twist away, Kase yanked her along behind him. He pulled her out the door, down the step, and into the yard out back.
The bright morning sunlight shook Rosa out of her astonishment and she jerked her wrist away from his grasp. “Basta!” She yelled at him to stop, startling him with her outburst. He immediately let her go.
Instead of fleeing, she advanced, sick of his manhandling. She forced him back as she marched over the dusty ground. Her turban rode precariously over one eye, but she did not falter.
When Kase halted, more than curious to see what she would do, she threw up her hands dramatically and continued shouting. “What’sa matter with you?”
His voice was so low that she could barely hear him. “Nothing’s wrong with me. I’m not the one who took a job in a whorehouse. If you needed money, I’d have given you some—”
“For a ticket to Italy! Why you want me gone, eh, Marshal? You hate Italians so much?”
Befuddled, Kase shook his head. “You’re crazy.”
Furiously, Rosa prodded him, poking a finger between the two top buttons of his shirt. “You are the crazy one, signore. You come into my place to scare me to leave. You come here to tell me to quit the job I just get.” She jabbed him again. “Why?”
His expression darkened. Kase clenched his fists and turned away from her with a softly murmured “Forget it.” He had not taken three long strides before Rosa caught up with him and grabbed his arm. With a hearty tug, she forced him to face her again.
“I’m not forget it! Why you hate me so much? Why?” Determined to break through his silence and learn why he wanted her away from Busted Heel so badly, she pressed him for an answer.
His tone was bitter when he replied, “If you want to be a whore, go to it.” He pulled away from her, too upset to even look at her for fear he would reach out and try and shake some sense into her. She infuriated him as no woman ever had. The idea that she had been forced to whore for Floss shook him deeply. The thought of her servicing men in one of the gaudy rooms upstairs sickened him. Was it because now anyone who could pay the price could have her for a tumble? Or was it because she was now available to him as well?
He chanced a glance in her direction and found her staring up at him, her face ashen, her expression one of shock.
“Whore? Whore? Again and again this word. I tell you I am not a whore. I am, how do you say it? A cameriera for Signora Flossie. I clean the house.”
“You’re a maid?” His scowl deepened.
She shrugged her shoulders, hands outstretched. “I don’t know. I clean the front room. I clean the dishes. This is a maid?”
He watched her straighten her ridiculous turban. It seemed she had a penchant for wearing unsightly headgear. Suddenly feeling foolish, Kase felt the beginnings of a blush suffuse his face. “A maid.”
“So?” she said, her tone more subdued as she waited expectantly.
“So what?”
“So why you want me to go back to Italy? Maybe you tell me now so I’m not always have to guess, okay? Maybe then I know why you try to make me afraid.” She decided that mentioning the kiss would not be wise. It would not do to slip and let him know that it had affected her in any way at all.
A window rattled behind them. Kase and Rosa turned in time to see Floss struggling, pounding the warped corners of the frame until she had raised it far enough to thrust head and shoulders outside and glare down at them. She rubbed her eyes and squinted, trying to bring the world into focus. In a hoarse whisper that carried well past them, she called down. “Could you two keep the ruckus down to a mild roar? People are tryin’ to get some shut-eye up here.” With that, she slammed thewindow shut and pulled the draperies together so vigorously that it set them swaying.
Rosa was concerned that her new job might be at stake. Kase wondered what he could say to her that might explain the reasons behind his hostility. He was sure most of his insistence that she leave stemmed from the fact that he did not consider Busted Heel a safe haven for a beautiful, respectable woman alone. But how could he explain the loneliness of the prairie to her? The wide open reaches of vast emptiness could pull the life right out of a person. Should he tell her that some newcomers never learned to love the freedom and beauty in the wild wind and rain that swept the plains, the deep snow that hugged the land in winter, or the fierce sun that baked it dry in summer?
Busted Heel was a fit place for Flossie and the girls, a fine place for local cowhands. Except for an occasional rancher and his family who did not have the time to make the trip to Cheyenne, Busted Heel was a watering hole for drifters, lost souls who had no more attachments than a passel of tum-bleweeds; folks like Slick the gambler and Zach Elliot, folks who did not belong anywhere; men like himself, who didn’t know who or what they were.
Busted Heel was definitely not meant for someone as young and beautiful as Rose Audi. Aside from her husband’s untimely death, he guessed she was still relatively innocent of the harsh realities of the world. She deserved better. But she did not seem convinced.
He looked down into her upturned face, saw the honey-colored eyes that searched his for an answer, and knew in an instant a deeper reason for the way she always set him on edge.
He wanted her.
Kase Storm wanted Rose the way he had never wanted a woman before, and the realization scared the hell out of him because he knew he couldn’t have her. Not ever. Not after what he had learned about his father. Not with all the doubts he still harbored about what he might become. She was from another world. He doubted if she even knew what his being half Indian meant as far as society was concerned, but he sure as hell wasn’t
going to give her a chance to find out. Besides, he hadn’t given her any reason to care for him in the least.
“Well?” she said, quite cocky now that she had backed him halfway across the yard.
There were plenty of reasons why he wanted her out of town and out of his life. But judging by the determined set of her jaw and the challenge sparkling in her eyes, he knew she would not pay heed to any of them. Kase tucked his thumbs into the gun belt that rode his hips as casually as if he’d been born wearing it and ground out, “If you’re dead set on staying here for the rest of your life, be my guest.”
She watched him stalk away and found herself left without an explanation for his surly manner once again. Rosa felt like chasing him down and planting a fist against his chin. It infuriated her further to realize she probably couldn’t even reach it. Still itching for a good fight she stomped back to Flossie’s, paused long enough to kick the step on her way in, then slammed the door.
Between Flossie and her girls, the Mountain Shadows cowhands, Paddie’s covered dish orders, and Zach’s walking testimonials, Rosa soon had more business than she could handle alone. Within one week she had hired Hung Yee’s daughter, Chin, to help out in the kitchen when things were busy. George and Martha Washington swept the floors and replaced the candles every morning while Zetta helped out by supplying eggs and freshly dressed chickens.
Rosa found time to paint a sign, boldly lettered in red and white, that proclaimed Rosa’s Ristorante, Fine Foods of Italy. Paddie, as owner of the building, felt it was his duty to hang the sign properly above the door.
By the end of the month, Rosa had saved enough money to choose wine-red material from Al-Ray’s for long red table runners to top her white cloths. She worked by candlelight late into the night to hem the runners. When she discovered Floss discarding an armload of well-worn gowns, Rosa cut them apart and fashioned colorful mismatched curtains for the front window. As she looked around the café at the end of her third week in business, Rosa could safely assure herself that her establishment was a success. Almost.
The one person she wanted most to walk through the door had not yet done so. She wanted Kase Storm to witness her success, but he had not said so much as a curt hello since their argument in Flossie’s yard. Rosa was beginning to think she had imagined the kiss that had passed between them that first night in the empty store. She had seen him nearly every morning as she crossed the street on her way to shop at Al-Ray’s, but he tended to stay near the jail at his end of the street rather than come anywhere near the restaurant.
She thought that perhaps he was angered by her success but could find no reason for him to wish her such ill will. Then last night, while she worked side by side with Chin Yee, drying dishes and stacking them on the sideboard, Rosa had remembered the money he had paid for her train fare to California, the money she had used to start the restaurant instead. This morning she had awakened determined to return every penny to him.
Rosa dressed with care, choosing a high-collared white blouse with fitted sleeves and a wine skirt of henrietta that fit close to her hips and fell gracefully to the ankles of her high-button shoes. She donned her wide-brimmed velvet hat, took up her reticule, shooed G.W. and his sister out the back door, and set out to repay her debt.
Quentin Rawlins rarely came to Busted Heel, so when Kase saw him ride into town well before noon, he stepped outside the office to greet his father’s old friend. He watched the man ride up on a thoroughbred golden palomino and realized that even though Quentin was in his early forties, he was still fit. His thick chestnut hair was shot with silver, his wide shoulders erect, his muscular frame trim. He sat his horse with the grace of a man who had spent his life in the saddle. Impeccably dressed, Rawlins casually exuded the wealth and success achieved by many cattlemen of the region.
He rode up to the hitching rail outside the jail and dismounted. Three of the men who rode with him went on past and stopped at Al-Ray’s. A flicker of white drew Kase’s attention to the end of the street. He felt himself grit his teeth as he watched the cowboys tip their hats and then stop to stare at Rose Audi as she crossed the street. She smiled in greeting and spoke to the three men for a moment before she moved on. Since she appeared to be moving in his direction, he paused for a moment to wonder what she was up to.
He watched her walk along the boardwalk. The broad-brimmed hat cast her face in shadow. The demure high-collared blouse only accentuated her full breasts, while the slim, tapered skirt called attention to her narrow hips and tiny waist. He thought he saw her smile in his direction, but before he knew for sure, Quentin interrupted his perusal.
“That wouldn’t by any chance be the widow Audi I’ve been hearing so much about, would it?” Quentin asked.
“It would and it is.” Kase turned, suddenly curious. “What have you heard?”
Quentin smiled. “Only good things. That she’s the best cook west of the Mississippi and that Busted Heel’s lucky to have her. No one took the time to tell me she was a beauty, but from the way the boys go on about her, I should have guessed as much.”
Kase felt something inexplicable tighten in his gut. For some reason it irked him to think “the boys” spent any time at all talking about Rose Audi.
He could hear her footsteps approaching. As she drew near, Quentin leaned closer and asked Kase to introduce him. Kase knew without looking when Rose was standing beside him on the boardwalk. He turned and found her smiling down at Quentin who had not yet stepped up out of the street.
Although he had not meant them to be, Kase’s words of introduction were terse. “Rose Audi, this is Quentin Rawlins, owner of Mountain Shadows Ranch. Quentin, Mrs. Audi.”
Quentin reached out for Rose’s hand and in a grand gesture, drew it to his lips. “My pleasure, ma’am.”
“Grazie, signore.”
When she blushed and bestowed a sparkling smile on Rawlins, Kase felt his jaw clench involuntarily. But when she turned her smile on him, the clench moved to his midsection. It had been three long weeks since he’d been this close to her, and to his dismay, Kase found her far lovelier than he remembered.
“Signor Marshal, I come to discuss business with you,” she said as soberly as she could with her heart beating in her ears and the blood suffusing her cheeks.
“In that case, Mrs. Audi,” Quentin interrupted, “I’ll make myself scarce for a few moments while you two take care of business.” He turned and headed toward Al-Ray’s before either Kase or Rose could protest.
Kase stood wondering what she might want with him before he remembered his manners and asked her into his office.
Rose entered before him and Kase closed the door. He watched her open the drawstrings of her small black bag. She took out a roll of bills and held them toward him. “The money I owe to you, Marshal, is here. All of it.”
He hesitated, then reached out and took the wad of bills, then handed them back. “Keep it.”
“No,” she shook her head. “I have no need.” She thrust it toward him. “Is yours. You keep.”
“You might need it.” He pushed her hand away.
She threw the money on the desk.
He didn’t know what else to say. For some inexplicable reason he felt as if he should keep talking so that she would not leave. He didn’t exactly want her thinking he hated her, but she was just so damned determined. His own stubborn pride kept him silent. He couldn’t bring himself to congratulate her on her success. Gathering up the bills, he toyed with the money for a moment before he shoved it into his back pocket.
“I should go...” she said.
“Thanks for paying me back so soon. You’re sure you don’t need—”
“No. I’ve no need.”
“Well, then, I guess...”
“Buon giorno, Marshal.” She put her hand on the door handle, then paused and turned around. “I will give you one dinner gratis, no money, if you like, because you are my— investor.”
“That’s kind of you, Mrs. Audi, but no, th
anks.”
“Rosa,” she corrected.
“Rose,” he amended.
“Va bene.”
He saw her frown as she started out the door again and felt an overwhelming need to apologize for the way he had treated her. But it wouldn’t do to start anything he knew would be better off left alone. He didn’t have to remind himself he was still a half-breed, not to mention a man whose questionable heritage made him unfit for the likes of Rose Audi. But there was something about the disappointment in her stance that made him speak.
“Thanks anyway, Rose.”
She turned on him, eyes bright, a smile back in place. “Not Rose. Rosa.”
“So you have business with the widow Audi, eh, Kase?” Laugh lines radiated from the sun-browned skin around Quentin Rawlins’s blue eyes as he pulled a chair up to Kase’s desk.
“Not anymore.”
“A misunderstanding?”
Kase shook his head. “No, not at all. I loaned her some money when she first came to town and found out her husband was dead. Paid for her train ticket out of here, but she used the fare to stake her business instead.”
“Nothing like good old Yankee ingenuity.” Rawlins laughed heartily. “Why’s that bother you, Kase?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. It just does. The fact is, she’s just so damned stubborn. I told her to get on the train and head home and she refused.”
“It seems to have turned out all right.”
“For now. I just don’t think a decent woman living alone belongs here in Busted Heel.”
Quentin stretched and then fingered a silver button on his shirt. “She’s quite a looker. I doubt if you’ll have to worry about her being alone very long.” He looked around the jailhouse office and then back at Kase. “You must have guessed I didn’t ride into town just to get a glimpse of the widow Audi.”
I hope not. Kase waited patiently. Sooner or later Quentin would get around to having his say.
“You ever heard of the Dawson gang?”
Kase settled back in his chair, glad to have his mind on something besides Rose Audi. “Can’t say as I have.”
Rose Page 12
