Rose

by Jill Marie Landis

  With a sure, even stride, she walked to the door. For a moment he thought she might leave him without a word, but then he waited, certain that Rose would insist on having the last word. She proved him correct when she paused with her hand on the doorknob and glared at him.

  It was a far different ending from the one she had envisioned on the ride out to the ranch. She watched Kase sit as still as a stone, his hands once again grasping the chair seat. She gave him one final chance to open his heart and his arms to her, but all he did was stare stonily.

  “Ciao, Kase Storm,” Rosa whispered.

  Kase watched in silence until Rose was out of the room. Then, with a shaking hand, he lifted the crystal decanter of brandy from the table beside him and poured himself an overflowing glassful.

  Rosa found the door to Caleb and Analisa’s room open, so she slipped inside and helped herself to the water pitcher and basin. Once she had sponged away all traces of her encounter with Kase Storm, she pressed a cool, damp cloth against her brow. She stared at her reflection in the mirror above the chiffonier and wondered how she would ever muster the courage to go downstairs and eat dinner. The thought of food made her want to retch.

  She was numb. Her feelings had flown along with her self-respect. She had tried and failed, and in doing so had made herself a fool in her own eyes. Moving without thought, she rinsed the washcloth clean, then carried the water basin across the room and set it on the floor while she raised the window. A blast of cold air swirled into the room, hitting her like a slap in the face. She shivered and quickly tossed the water outside, where it landed on the snow-covered porch roof below the window.

  She shut out the cold, replaced the bowl and washcloth, and returned to peer into the mirror. The unrelieved black dress was a fitting choice, considering the circumstances; she felt as if someone had just died. Had her wearing black on such a festive day caused her ill luck? Had she gotten up on the left side of the bed? Rosa shrugged, pushed aside the superstitious thoughts that reminded her of Zia Rina, and continued to scrutinize her appearance. Her hair was still tightly wound in the coronet of braids. The cold air had added a spot of color to her pale complexion. She ignored the disbelief in her eyes and the way her lips trembled, and wondered if she would ever look at herself again without seeing an incredibly foolish woman.

  Kase did not want her. Nothing she said or did could change the glaring realization she had faced a few moments ago. She had humiliated herself beyond redemption with a man she loved more than life itself. Her rage had peaked. Now she felt nothing.

  Without looking back at the mirror, Rosa left the room and went downstairs to join the others. Determined that they would never know the pain she was experiencing, she swore somehow to survive dinner as she had survived every other crisis she had faced. When she was back at the restaurant, secure in the privacy of her own room, then perhaps she might cry and purge herself of Kase Storm. Until then, she refused to let anyone see how very much he had hurt her.

  “Rosa, come in. Join us,” Analisa said when she noticed the girl standing uncertainly in the doorway.

  They had gathered in the parlor—Quentin, Caleb, Analisa and Zach—to await the outcome of Rosa’s visit with Kase. Now, as they stood expectantly waiting for her to make some comment, Analisa’s heart went out to her. She wondered if Caleb was aware of the ashen pallor of the young woman’s skin or the vacant expression in her eyes. Immediately, Analisa went to Rosa and led her into the parlor.

  “Does he want to come down for dinner?” Quentin stood, obviously expecting the answer to be affirmative, ready to go up and help Caleb carry Kase downstairs.

  Rosa paused momentarily before she shook her head. Analisa was afraid the girl was about to faint, but then she heard Rosa speak in a voice barely above a whisper. “No. He does not want to come down.”

  “I think we ought to bring him down here anyway,” Quentin insisted. “I hate to think of him sitting up there all alone on Christmas Eve. What do you think, Caleb?”

  Caleb glanced at Analisa and then shook his head. His face was grim, but his tone was sure. “I know Kase. He won’t change his mind, and he wouldn’t take kindly to our going against his wishes.” He turned back to Analisa, glanced at Rosa, and with a reassuring nod added, “I think we should go on in and eat.”

  The table was spread with a veritable Christmas feast. Gilt-edged Haviland china sparkled on an Irish lace tablecloth. Ruby wineglasses added festive holiday color that complemented sprigs of pine spread about the tabletop. Roast goose, stuffing, potatoes, gravy, glazed carrots, Rosa’s tortellini, fresh bread, jams and jellies. Quentin said the blessing, and the serving dishes were passed around the table. Analisa tried to ignore the sadness that lingered on the air. Despite the festive table setting, the delicious food, and good friends gathered together, she missed Kase and his teasing smile. She missed Annika, who should have been with them. Analisa looked around the table and told herself that this crisis would soon pass. Far worse things had happened in her life. She had a loving husband, a beautiful daughter, and a son who had survived a near fatal shooting. She had much to be thankful for. Why, then, did she feel such loss?

  She watched Rosa toy with her food. The girl had taken little enough, but even the small portions proved to be too much. Caleb and Quentin tried to include Rosa in their conversation, but she failed to respond with more than monosyllabic answers. Zach was intent on his food. Although he still wore his fringed buckskin jacket, he had donned a new striped shirt for the occasion, and the usual stubble of a beard was missing. Analisa watched the old man, wondering if he knew how to deal with her son. The scout knew Kase as well as or better than anyone—and he had befriended Rosa. If he had any notion of what was happening between the two, Analisa could not tell.

  When a heavy object hit the second floor just over their heads, everyone at the table started and looked up. Analisa began to rise, then abruptly sat back down. Rosa closed her eyes for an instant. Caleb frowned. The noise did not repeat itself.

  “I’d better go up,” Caleb said after a long, silent pause.

  Analisa shook her head. “No. Leave him be. If he needs us he will call.”

  Rosa took a hearty drink of wine and turned to Quentin. Seated as he was at the head of the table, he reminded her of a king reigning over a royal banquet, for he made quite an imposing figure in his formal black suit and starched white shirt, his graying hair slicked down and shining.

  She gathered her courage and took a deep breath. “Signor Quentin, you said once if ever I want your help, I must only ask for it.”

  “And I meant it. Are you thinking of expanding the business?”

  “No”—she shook her head—“I want to sell.”

  Zach stopped chewing long enough to raise his head and stare at her.

  “Sell?” Quentin frowned.

  “Are you sure, Rosa? Isn’t this a little sudden?” Caleb asked. He was so quick to furrow his brow that he reminded Rosa of Kase. She fought back an overwhelming urge to cry.

  Instead, she shook her head and rapidly blinked back tears. “I want to sell Rosa’s. I am leaving Wyoming.”

  Analisa could not keep the sadness from her voice. “Oh, Rosa. Think more about this.”

  Rose turned to her, her features set with determination. “I want to go.”

  Caleb stared at the girl and said softly, “Will you go back to Italy, Rosa?”

  She shook her head emphatically. “No. Not Italy. I will go to California. There are many Italians there.”

  Quentin offered a solution. “How about if I give you the money to go to California, Rosa? You can see how you like it before you sell out. Then, if you don’t want to come back here, you can deed over the place to me.”

  “I do not wish to come back. I leave for good.”

  Caleb, obviously upset, put his napkin beside his plate. “Listen, Rosa, I think you’re being much too hasty about this. Why don’t you wait a while longer?”

  Analisa watched as Rosa t
urned to Caleb. Bright spots of color stained the girl’s ivory cheeks. “I have waited. I have thought. I want to leave.”

  Zach leaned back and hooked an arm around the back of his chair. “Rosa’s ain’t a restaurant without a cook.”

  “He’s got a point there, Rosa. If I buy your place, how am I supposed to run it?”

  Analisa thought the girl was going to cry. She tried to intercede. “Rosa is just tired. She has been under a strain, like the rest of us.”

  Rosa shook her head. “I am not tired.” She turned to Quentin and offered, “I will make promise, signore. You will not pay for the restaurant until I go to California and find another Italian who will come here to cook. Maybe it is better for a husband and wife to come to Busted Heel to run Rosa’s. I will do this for you, and you will buy the café. Yes?”

  “Of course.” Quentin nodded, but he did not smile.

  “Va bene. This is good.”

  Analisa felt more despondent with every passing moment. Had she been wrong to hope for a reconciliation? Had she been responsible for Rosa’s high hopes and subsequent disappointment? She glanced across the table at Caleb and found him watching her intently. As always, he was attuned to her feelings. She read the expression in his eyes, knew that her husband wished he could fix everything the way he had done when Kase was a child. She found herself smiling in response despite her anxiety. He returned her smile with one of his own. The gesture made her feel more secure, but she was far from convinced that things would ever be right again.

  When Kase looked up through a drunken haze and saw Zach Elliot push open the door to his room, he was thankful that it was his old mentor and not his mother.

  “You look like one hell of a mess,” Zach said.

  Kase tried not to slur his words. “I can always count on you to tell me the truth.”

  Zach walked over to where Kase sat sprawled on the floor, leaning back against the bed for support. The brandy decanter, empty now, sat on the floor between his legs. The top had rolled across the room and rested against the dresser. His glass had been abandoned an hour ago. Amber stains spotted his shirtfront, his hair dangled in his eyes. As Zach Elliot stood staring down at him, Kase felt the heat of embarrassment stain his cheeks.

  “Never knew an Indian that could hold his liquor.”

  “Shut up, Zach.”

  “Get up and make me.”

  Kase stared at the other man’s worn, mud-spattered boots and thought it quite remarkable how such details seemed overwhelmingly important when a man was drunk. “Go away.”

  Zach left Kase on the floor and sauntered over to the chair near the fire. “Nothing I hate more’n seein’ a man at rock bottom.”

  “Yeah, well, this is it.”

  “I know, I been there.”

  Kase turned bleary eyes to Zach.

  Without invitation, Zach began to explain. “Back in the late sixties, the year I was down in Texas, just after the war, I didn’t never want to see the light o’ day again. Tried to drown myself in a vat o’ whiskey.”

  Zach stopped talking and leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. Kase waited for him to continue, but the man infuriated him by remaining silent. Kase tried to focus, but instead of seeing Zach, he imagined himself and Rose using the chair as they had earlier.

  He shook his head to dispel the memory and immediately regretted such a brain-jarring action. “You might as well finish it. What in the hell happened to you?”

  “Found my kid dead. Wife butchered.”

  Kase snorted. “Indians, no doubt.”

  “My wife and kid were Indians. It were comancheros that killed ‘em.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Zach stretched. “No need for you to be sorry for me, boy. I did a fine job of bein’ sorry for myself, jest like you are now. Then I got up and went on with my life.”

  “You’re still expecting me to get up and walk just like the rest of them down there. Well, I hate to disappoint you.”

  “You don’t know unless you try,” Zach said softly.

  Kase batted the decanter away, and the heavy cut-crystal piece slid across the hardwood floor until it bumped into the wall. He turned on Zach. “That’s what you think, is it? That I haven’t tried? How in the hell do you think I ended up down here? And this isn’t the first time.” He looked up, unable to stop the increasingly familiar fear and despair that swept through him. “I hate this. I hate what I’ve become. Hell, Zach, I’ve tried. I wake up in the middle of the night and try to walk. I pull myself as far as the edge of the bed. Sometimes I try to stand, but my legs just won’t hold me. Then I ask myself if I want my mother to find me on the floor when she comes in of a morning. It happened once, you know, and I don’t ever want to see that look on her face again. This is killing her, Zach.”

  Zach leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and looked Kase square in the eyes. “It ain’t your ma I’m seein’ sprawled drunk on the floor, boy. Seems to me it ain’t killin’ her as much as it is you.” He leaned back again and said smugly, “You and that little Eye-talian girl downstairs.”

  “Leave her out of this.”

  “You won’t have to worry about her anymore.” Zach shrugged. “Not with you goin’ off to Boston and her leavin’ Busted Heel for good.”

  Kase braced a hand against the floor as the room began to spin. “What are you talking about?”

  “She’s leavin’. Said so at the table. Quentin’s buying her out. Probably givin’ her twice what the place is worth, but after lookin’ at her face when she asked if he’d help her, well, hell, I’da given her anything I had—if I had anything.”

  “How can she sell the business?” Kase scoffed in disbelief. “She is the business.”

  “Goin’ to California. Said she’ll send back some Eye-talians who can cook.”

  Kase shook his head, certain he’d heard wrong. “What in the hell does she plan on doing in California?”

  Zach didn’t answer.

  “Well?” Kase prodded.

  “What the hell do you care?”

  The overwhelming certainty that he knew what was best for Rose hit him in much the same way it had the very first time he saw her. His mind drifted back to the day when he walked into his office and saw her hanging half off the chair, clinging to the bars of the jail cell. He smiled at nothing and shook his head.

  Zach’s gravelly voice interrupted his drunken musing. “She’ll do just fine. Miz Rosa seems the type to land on her feet.”

  “Yeah.” Somehow the thought did little to reassure Kase Storm.

  “Yeah,” Zach went on as if he were talking to himself, “she’ll probably end up with some handsome Eye-talian fella that’ll know how to treat her. Keep her locked up, a passel of kids runnin’ at her heels. Probably the best thing for her.”

  Kase felt his anger rise within him. “Where is she now?”

  “Shoot, she left an hour ago. Quentin drove her back.”

  Kase felt himself list to the left and tried to straighten up. His eyes focused again and he recognized the booted feet beside his legs. Zach was standing over him again.

  “I’ll put you back in bed.” The old man’s voice was low and filled with pity.

  Whether the pity was feigned or not, it was more than Kase could stand. “Keep your hands off me, you old coot. Just get out.”

  Zach ignored him and stooped over, hefting the heavier man with a grunt until he had Kase on the edge of the bed. “Ya big oaf, like t’kill me,” he grumbled.

  Kase wavered back and forth until he nearly toppled onto the floor again. Zach shoved him, and he sprawled on his back. Staring at the ceiling, he listened to Zach’s footsteps as the man crossed the room.

  The footsteps halted and Kase heard Zach open the door.

  “If you have any notion of ever gettin’ up and walkin’, I think you come to that place in time.”

  As Zach Elliot closed the door, Kase Storm closed his eyes, but he could not shut out the spinning in his head or the tigh
tening sensation around his heart.

  A cozy fire crackled in the massive stone fireplace in the parlor at Mountain Shadows. As Analisa carried a tray laden with a silver coffee service and a plate of cookies into the room, Caleb stood to relieve her of the burden. He set the tray on a table drawn up before the settee, and Analisa poured the aromatic coffee into china cups. She handed the first cup to Kase, who sat alone on the settee. It was the day after Christmas, and his bout with self-pity had ended. He had even requested that Caleb and Quentin carry him downstairs for dinner. When he told Quentin he wanted time to speak to his parents alone, Rawlins had suggested they take their after-dinner coffee in the parlor.

  Analisa served Caleb and herself and then sat down beside Kase on the settee, where she and her husband waited expectantly to hear what their son had to say.

  “I’m staying here,” Kase said without preamble.

  Analisa looked to her husband for comment, but Caleb waited for Kase to explain.

  “Quentin said he would put up with me a few more weeks, and Zach promised to help out. The doctor here says there is no evident medical reason why I can’t walk, and if he’s right, then I’d just be wasting your time and money going to Boston.”

  “You know that we can well afford any expense,” Caleb began.

  “I know that,” Kase agreed, “but I want to try to get over this on my own before I give up and go to Boston.”

  Caleb looked at his wife, who gave him a nod of encouragement. “Did Rosa’s announcement that she’s leaving have anything to do with your decision?”

  “Of course. But I don’t want her to know anything about this. There’s no need to get her hopes up, because there’s no guarantee that I’ll ever walk again. I want everything between us to stay just as it is for now.”

  “What if she leaves for San Francisco before you show any progress? Will you chance losing her?” Caleb asked.

  “As far as I’m concerned, I’ve already lost her. That’s the way I want it until I can go to her on my own two feet. If I succeed after she leaves, then I’ll just have to go after her.”