by Linda Ford
Duke turned away, his expression troubled, and pulled on his coat and scarf.
Rose grabbed the bucket of scraps for the cats and then the pair of them stepped out into the storm. Rose knew better than to let go of the door until she had a firm grip on the rope. This time it was snow-covered and cold, but she held on knowing her life—and Duke’s—depended on it.
Moments later they reached the safety of the barn and staggered inside.
She stamped her feet and brushed the snow from her arms.
He pulled his mitten off and swept his hand across her hair, his touch lingering long after he’d wiped away the snow. Her heart urged her to lean into his touch, wishing for it to continue.
He brushed at her shoulders and down her back, then said, “My turn.”
Her fingers tingled, not with cold but with awareness as she brushed his coat.
He faced her, inviting her to do his head.
As she looked into his eyes, she couldn’t say for certain what she saw there. She blamed the low light of the barn. But she couldn’t deceive herself with such explanations. He was inviting her to touch him...and she wanted to run her fingers through his blond locks.
But when she reached out to do so, he caught her hands. “Rose, I’m sorry about your pa, but surely no one meant any real damage.”
The tender moment was broken. Instead a harsh sound burst from her. “You surely know that’s not true.”
“I can’t believe my father knew what was going on.”
She shook her head. “You said yourself he let Angus go. Angus never harmed us but as soon as Ebner came...well, it’s never ended. Your father would have to be purposely blind and deaf not to know what’s going on.”
He opened his mouth, closed it again. Scrubbed at the back of his neck.
“Rose, what can I say except I’m sorry? But it’s over.”
“I know you believe it but I’m not ready to.”
He pressed his lips into a frown and nodded. “What will it take to convince you?”
She held his gaze without blinking as her thoughts warred. She wanted to believe him. She had prayed for the feud to end. But she wasn’t foolish enough to accept it, not as long as gates continued to be opened and as long as Ebner watched them.
“One way or the other, we’ll soon know.”
* * *
His heart barely beating, Duke prayed that Rose would believe that his father had spoken to the cowboys. She was right about one thing, though. Neither he nor his father could claim they didn’t have any inkling about what Ebner had been up to. As she’d said, his father had likely hired the man because of his reputation and had given him specific orders to get rid of the Bells. On Duke’s part, although he had never had an active role in the harassment except for his teasing of Rose, he’d overheard enough comments from the cowboys and seen enough evidence of what they’d done that he couldn’t claim ignorance.
His only excuse was that he blindly believed his father had a right to the land because his father said so.
Rose let out a long sigh. “I need to feed the animals.”
He grabbed her arm as she marched away. “Rose, don’t you believe me?”
Slowly she came around to face him. “I don’t know what to believe.”
“That hurts.” He dropped her arm. “All the hours we spent together... Is it only fake friendship?” He yanked the dressing from his head and tossed it to the floor. “Am I only a man with an injured head that you couldn’t ignore?”
He had the satisfaction of seeing denial in her eyes but he wanted more. So much more. He cupped her cheek with his hand. At least she didn’t flinch or pull away. “Was it all pretend?”
She shook her head, pressing her hand to his where it lay against her face. “No, Duke. It is real. But I’m afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” He let his gaze roam over her beautiful skin, now pink from the cold. With his other hand, he caught her braid and pulled it over her shoulder. What would it be like to loosen her hair and let it fall free in rich, red ripples?
“I’m afraid of what Ebner will do.”
“I’m not going to let that happen. My father left me in charge. Ebner does what I tell him.” However, he’d never given Ebner a direct order so he couldn’t speak from experience.
The green in her eyes was like bottomless still water. She looked deep into his gaze, as if searching past the surface to the real Duke Caldwell.
She must have found what she wanted because she smiled and her smile flooded his heart and lit up the barn. “If you can convince me, it seems you can convince anyone.”
He bent closer. “Does that mean I’ve convinced you?”
She nodded, her eyes so full of trust, his heart threatened to break from its moorings.
He caught her chin with one curled finger and lifted her face to him. The trust remained there...and something more. Longing. Wanting.
For him?
His heart kicked free and danced against his ribs. He lowered his head, intent on her full, inviting lips. He paused, giving her lots of time to pull back. Instead, she met him halfway. Their lips touched. Nothing more. It was barely a kiss. More of a sealing of something sacred and pure—his promise to ensure the land feud ended and hers to trust him. They lingered a moment, neither moving, and then they broke apart.
She looked at him in a way that made him feel as though he could walk without his feet touching the ground.
At the way he regarded her, she smiled and lowered her gaze. He didn’t care that his joy poured from his eyes.
“I have to do the chores.” She seemed somewhat confused as she went in one direction and then another before she decided to toss some hay to the cows and horses in the barn.
He followed and helped her, though he had trouble remembering what he’d meant to do with the pail of oats in his hands.
The land feud had ended days ago when he’d talked to Father about it. Father had seen the foolishness of continuing it, though maybe only because he was interested in becoming involved in politics.
But finally the feud between him and Rose had ended. He could ask for nothing better.
Except, perhaps, to know that Ebner would obey orders on this matter. Duke meant to see that he did.
Chapter Twelve
They’d kissed. Though barely. Still, it seemed a promise of things to come. Good things. Sheltered inside the barn, secluded by the storm, it hardly seemed possible that she and Duke had ever been enemies.
Hope whinnied and stomped a hoof, and Rose jerked her attention to the bundle of hay she carried.
“I’m coming, you impatient creature.”
How long had she been lost in her thoughts?
She stole a glance at Duke. He stood at his horse, his gaze distant. She smiled. Had he found their kiss as surprisingly pleasant as she had?
He released a drawn-out sigh and moved away from his horse. He turned, caught her watching him, and their gazes locked.
She stood motionless. Aware of nothing but the shimmering air between them and the imprint of his lips on hers. She lifted a hand and touched her lips.
He smiled, triumph lighting his eyes.
Realizing what she’d done, she wheeled around and bumped into Hope’s side.
The horse sidestepped but otherwise paid her no mind.
A cat jumped onto the stall wall and meowed.
“Where did I put that food?” She retraced her steps and found the bucket just inside the door. She didn’t recall putting it down. The cat dish waited nearby and she dumped the food into it. “Kitty, kitty,” she called and the cats tumbled from the loft, from the tack room and from a stall they shared with one of the cows.
Duke chuckled.
When she pushed to her feet, the power of his look held her lik
e a vise, making it impossible to form a rational thought. She tried to yank her attention from him but found she could not.
She swallowed loudly.
He grinned. “Is Patches ready to go visit Billy?”
She turned her attention to the cat, both relieved and sad to be free of his look.
Against her better judgment she brought her gaze back to him.
He watched the cats, his expression unreadable— Did she see regret? Longing? Confusion? It bothered her that she couldn’t say. Shouldn’t he look pleased, satisfied, at having kissed her?
Had he found the kiss unsatisfactory? How could that be possible? She’d enjoyed it so.
Maybe she’d misread the meaning behind it. Maybe he hadn’t meant it as a touching of lips, an opening of hearts. Another kiss would give her a chance to reassess the situation.
She took a step toward him.
“Do you realize how fortunate you are?” His words stopped her in her tracks.
“I am?” Because he’d kissed her? Didn’t he realize it worked both ways? He was fortunate she’d allowed him to kiss her.
“You’re surrounded by pets.” He scooped up one of the cats. “I never had any growing up. My father said cats had a job to do.” He told her of finding a batch of kittens only to have them taken away.
As he spoke, her breathing eased. He wasn’t regretting their kiss, only his lack of pets.
“You’re welcome to take one of these cats or wait until spring when there’ll likely be several batches of kittens.”
“Several?” His eyes widened.
“We never have any trouble giving them away.”
“Like I said, you’re most fortunate.” His gaze dipped to her mouth. “I am, too...more so every day.” His voice thickened.
Her thoughts scrambled. Did he mean because of her? One of the cats meowed, bringing her thoughts back to reality.
Patches. Billy would be worried about his cat. “We should get back to the house.”
The wind still rattled the barn doors. But inside she was warm and cozy and content. Even though a storm raged outside, they could hardly stay here forever.
It stunned her to think how she might be talking about their life. This moment was sweet and safe, but outside there was Ebner.
She shivered. “When do you expect your father back?”
“I’m not sure. I believe he expects to be asked to serve in some capacity in the new state legislature. He said not to expect him home for some time.”
Had Mr. Caldwell truly spoken to the cowboys to end the harassment of the Bells? If he had, did Ebner mean to listen? It seemed that for Ebner, wreaking havoc on the Bells was more than an order he had to carry out. He seemed to get some personal delight out of it. She’d always had the impression that Mr. Caldwell ran things from the safety of his office and Ebner carried out things in whatever way he decided.
Would Ebner listen to Duke if it came to that?
She shivered again.
Duke unwound from the wall and moved to the door. “You’re cold. We need to get back.”
Thankfully he had misinterpreted her shiver. She didn’t want to tell him her concerns. He’d think she considered him purely ornamental as a Caldwell. At the moment she couldn’t say how she felt about his role.
She scooped up Patches, tucked her securely inside her coat and then squared her shoulders. Time to face the storm.
Again she shivered, sensing her thoughts applied to much more than the weather.
Duke squeezed her arm as if to reassure her. Though whether or not he had the same unsettling thoughts, she couldn’t say and didn’t mean to ask, preferring to dwell in this little shell of seclusion as long as possible.
He reached around her and pushed the door open.
She gasped at the blast of cold air that stole her breath and then grasped the rope. “Hang on,” she called to him. She didn’t move until he closed the door and his hand clamped next to hers on the rope.
As they crossed the yard she noted the snow had abated enough she could make out the shapes of the buildings, but still she clung to the rope as if it was all that kept her safe. She meant no harm to man or beast, but if only the storm would stay over the area for a few more hours perhaps she and Duke could find more solid ground between them.
Finally they reached the house and stepped inside.
Billy stood in front of them. “Is Patches okay?”
Rose unbuttoned her coat and handed the cat to him.
He buried his nose against the warm fur.
“He’s been fretting since you left,” Ma said, sounding affectionate. She obviously wasn’t fussed about Billy’s sometimes odd behavior.
Pa lay beneath a quilt on the cot, snoring softly.
She and Duke slipped out of their snow-covered outerwear and hurried to the stove to warm up.
“I have tea waiting,” Ma said. She kept her voice low so she wouldn’t disturb Pa.
The four of them huddled at the stove, speaking softly as Rose gave a report of the trip to the barn. “The animals are safe and warm.”
“So are we. Thank God for that.” Ma glanced around the house with gratefulness. Her gaze came to Rose and she smiled. “We have been richly blessed.”
Rose hugged her mother. There had never been a shadow of doubt that the three girls were welcomed and loved by the Bells. But as always, a little nag of dissatisfaction stirred at the back of her brain. What had her birth mother been like? Why would their birth father abandon them? She liked to think it was for a good reason but how could she be certain? And what reason was sufficient enough? And the most persistent question of all... Had Rose been such a difficult child she’d driven him away?
She’d once said something of the sort to Ma and Ma had cried out a protest. “Don’t ever think you are to blame. Even if you weren’t the sweetest, kindest, most loving child ever, which you are, children are not responsible for the decisions adults make.” Ma had always said she believed something profoundly awful had prevented the man from returning.
Her insistence had never quite convinced Rose.
Duke nudged her. His gaze claimed hers. “I believe your mother means you are a blessing.” He shifted his attention to the older woman. “Am I correct, Mrs. Bell?”
“You are indeed. Rose and her sisters are true gifts from God.”
“There you go. You’re a gift from God.”
Rose ducked her head at the warmth in Duke’s gaze and hoped Ma wouldn’t notice the way he looked at her. For a fraction of a second she told herself that Ma’s words and Duke’s gentle look erased all her doubts. But remnants niggled at the back of her mind.
Would she ever be able to put them to rest fully and permanently?
Warmed, she moved to the table. Duke followed. Billy sat nearby playing with Patches while Ma went to her chair to work on her mending.
She thought of suggesting another round of checkers but knew her mind was too preoccupied to present a challenge to Duke.
When Pa groaned as he tried to sit up, Duke jumped up and went over to assist him.
“Thank you,” Pa said. “How is the weather?”
They all cocked their heads to listen.
“Sounds like the wind has died down some,” Pa said with satisfaction.
Rose went to the window. “The snow has almost stopped.” Try as she might, she could not inject any enthusiasm into her voice.
It was time to return to normal.
Only she wasn’t sure what form normal would take now. Would things go back to the way they had been most of her life? Or would friendship with Duke change all that?
* * *
Duke watched Rose at the window. Did she look sad that the storm was ending? If they’d been alone he would go to her and assure her
that things would be different from now on. He’d see to it personally.
He helped Mr. Bell to his feet. Mr. Bell headed for the window, which gave Duke an excuse to do likewise. He crowded close to Rose.
“A fair bit of snow,” Mr. Bell said. “’Tis good for the land.”
“The drifts are huge.” Rose sounded distracted, as if she’d said the first thing that came to mind.
Duke tucked a pleased smile into his heart and dared hope she wished they could continue to be storm-bound.
“As soon as it clears up we’ll be on our way.” He hoped his words sounded calm and ordinary. Not full of the regret he felt deep in his heart.
“Give it a little longer.” Mr. Bell went to his chair at the table. “Ma will make us tea while we wait.” He signaled the others to join him and soon they were enjoying tea and some of the cookies Duke had made the day before.
Each bite filled his mouth with sweetness and hope. Surely this was the beginning of a new relationship between the Bells and the Caldwells.
“Tell us about Philadelphia,” Mr. Bell said. “Did you feel pride at being at the site of the First Continental Congress?”
“I did.” He told them of the historic sites and the places he’d visited while down east.
“Don’t you wonder if you might miss it?” Rose asked.
He hoped her question meant she might be concerned he would want to return. “I felt constrained by all the buildings, actually. I missed the open spaces and the mountains. Montana is my home.”
Her eyes glistened and she smiled. “Good to hear.”
Mr. Bell cleared his throat. “History is important. It is part of who we are and who we are to become.”
A cold draft swept through Duke’s insides as if the door had blown open. Mr. Bell spoke of country but Duke knew Rose would interpret her father’s words personally. They would echo her doubts about who she was.
Sure enough, she pressed the knuckle of one finger to her teeth and stared down at the table.
He wanted to reach across the table and take her hands between his and assure her she was Rose and that was all that mattered. Aware that her parents might find such an action inappropriate, he stared at her, willing her to look at him.
