Big Sky Homecoming

by Linda Ford

  Apart from that, she was Rose Bell and he, Duke Caldwell. That was all she needed to know about him.

  But her fierce admonitions did not stop the churning of her thoughts.

  * * *

  Duke had confessed his shame. She’d understandably been shocked and had turned away to prepare a pot of soup. Why had he let her see his weak side?

  His only explanation was that his head hurt, making it hard to think straight.

  Rose filled the soup pot and mixed up a batch of biscuits and popped them in the oven.

  Putting aside his regret over confessing his sin of omission regarding Billy, he sat back and enjoyed watching Rose flit around the kitchen. His mother didn’t cook. Back east all the meals had come from the kitchen, prepared by a cook and served in a dining room. When Mrs. Humphrey prepared meals in this room he’d only been allowed to watch. Hence, cooking over the open fire had been learned by trial and error. Being able to share the kitchen with a young woman was a new experience. One, he decided, he quite enjoyed.

  Rose brushed strands of hair out of her face. She wore her red hair in a braid down her back and it danced in sunshiny waves as she moved.

  “Billy’s right,” he murmured half to himself. “Your hair is pretty.”

  She ground to a halt and slowly came around to face him, her eyes narrow and challenging. She held the big stirring spoon like a weapon.

  He held up both hands in a gesture of retreat. “Hey, it’s a compliment.”

  Slowly the spoon was lowered. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

  Billy went to her side. “How come you don’t like people saying your hair is nice?”

  “Mostly because they don’t mean it.” She kept her back to both of them.

  “I mean it.” Billy sounded hurt.

  “I know you do.”

  Duke waited, hoping and wishing she might turn to him and say the same thing. When she didn’t he couldn’t leave it alone. “I mean it, too.”

  She stiffened. Then she slowly set the spoon on the cupboard and turned to face him. “‘Redhead redhead, fire in the woodshed.’ Remember that? I do.”

  Her accusation ripped through him like a tornado, twisting, turning, filling him with tangled regret. He pushed to his feet, ignoring the dizziness, and crossed to her. He longed to touch her, to smooth her hair, to assure her in so many ways. “I was a foolish kid who didn’t know how to express his admiration.”

  “Admiration?” Her eyes dripped disbelief. “For what?”

  “Your hair is beautiful. You are beautiful.”

  Her eyebrows reached for her hairline.

  In for a penny, in for a dollar. He might as well say it all. “You are about the kindest, wisest woman I’ve met.”

  She snorted. “Haven’t met many women, have you?”

  He grinned. “Met some.” Indeed he’d met a lot of young women while back east. “None of whom would rescue an injured man. None who would likewise prepare him a meal. Rose Bell, you are something special.” He had the satisfaction of seeing pleasure flicker through her eyes before he returned to his seat.

  Let her muse on that a while, he thought.

  Billy chuckled. “Duke sure does like you, Rose.”

  Rose jerked around and stirred the soup rather vigorously. “He hit his head too hard.”

  A few minutes later she put two bowls on the table.

  He caught her wrist. “Which one of us isn’t eating?”

  She didn’t pull away but her face revealed a wealth of confusion. “I made the meal for you and Billy. I’ll ride on home.” She glanced out the window. “It will soon be dark.”

  He looked out the window, too. “You have time to eat with us before you go. Billy and I will do the dishes so we don’t keep you.”

  She glanced around as if seeking escape or excuse.

  “Please eat with us, Rose.”

  Not until she nodded did he release her wrist.

  She scurried to the cupboard for another bowl. Put it on the table then ladled out soup and set out a plate of golden biscuits.

  She hesitated only a moment before she sat in the chair opposite Duke. Only then did she lift her eyes to him.

  He smiled at the expectant guardedness of her expression. “I’ll ask the blessing.”

  She bowed her head and he did likewise. His heart was so filled with gratitude that his throat tightened and his words came out husky.

  “God, bless this food. Bless those who share it at this meal. Thank You for Your many blessings. Amen.” Silently he added thanks for Billy, for Rose and for being safe at home with only a minor cut on his head. And for Rose being willing to share his table.

  “Amen,” Rose and Billy echoed.

  They were quiet a few moments as the biscuits were passed and the soup tested.

  “That is so good.” Duke indicated the soup. “You’ll have to give me the recipe.”

  Rose stared. “Why would I do that?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe Billy and I will make it ourselves.”

  Rose leaned closer. “I could tell you but then Ma would come after you with a fry pan and demand you forget you ever heard her secret ingredient.” She nodded with a hint of warning in her eyes. “So for your sake, I better not.”

  He stared at her. Beside him, Billy shifted in his chair.

  “Duke, you might get hurt.”

  Duke knew she was joshing him but decided to play along. He widened his eyes in fake surprise. “But...but—” A sputter or two would help convince her that he bought her story. “I saw you prepare the soup. I saw what you put in.” He’d watched all right, but his attention had been on the cook, not the ingredients. He gave a shudder that he hoped seemed real. “I can hardly forget what I saw. Can I?”

  Billy pushed his chair back and sat forward, preparing to run.

  Duke rested a hand on Billy’s arm. “Don’t worry. I don’t think anyone is going to hurt us.” Time to end this farce. “In fact...” He leaned over the table and fixed Rose with a narrow-eyed look. “I remember your mother as a kind, gentle soul. I’m quite certain she’d never threaten to hurt me.”

  Rose blinked and then amusement flooded her eyes. She leaned back and laughed. “I thought I had you worried but you were only teasing.”

  Billy let out a gust of air. “You were teasing?” he asked Duke.

  “We both were,” Rose said. “Sorry if we worried you, Billy.”

  Billy looked from Duke to Rose and back again, confusion wreathing his features. Then his expression cleared and he nodded. “That’s how my friend, Andy, acted around his girl.”

  Rose’s grin fled. “It’s not like that.”

  Duke’s pride nose-dived at her quick denial. Then it rebounded. Had she responded too quickly, as if afraid, or surprised, at the truth in Billy’s words? He grinned at the idea but said nothing.

  Instead he talked about how glad he was to be back in Montana. “I didn’t much care for city life.”

  She nodded, though he wondered if she was even listening to him.

  He tucked a secret smile inside. Perhaps even now she was wondering if there could be a hint of attraction between them.

  A few minutes later, Rose glanced across the table. “Are you finished?” At his nod, she started to gather up the dishes.

  He waved her away. “I said Billy and I would clean up.”

  She nodded and sank back, her gaze on the dressing on his forehead. “You really should be resting.”

  “I’ll be fine.” He didn’t get to his feet, knowing dizziness would assault him.

  With an uncertain nod, she pushed away from the table and rose. “Then I’ll be on my way.” But she stood there watching him.

  He lifted his gaze to hers and had to blink at the concern darkening her eyes
. “Rose, I’m fine. Thank you for everything. Rescuing me. Taking care of me...” His throat tightened at all she’d done. Perhaps it was only out of duty and concern for mankind, but her touch, her concern, her smile all wound through his heart with the feel of a personal gift. “And for the delicious meal.” When he said the last words, a thought struck him and he laughed.

  She blinked. “The meal was funny?”

  He sobered but amusement made his words round and pleasant on his tongue. “Normally a guy takes a gal out for a special dinner. At least that’s been my experience. But this has been the nicest dinner I’ve ever shared with a gal.”

  “And you expect me to believe that after you’ve spent a year in Philadelphia?”

  “It’s true. Guess it’s the company that makes the difference.”

  “More likely it’s the bang on your head that has scrambled your thoughts.”

  He had never been more certain of anything despite the throbbing of his wound.

  She slipped into her coat and stuffed her hair under a big hat.

  Why did she cover her hair? He wanted to yank the hat from her head.

  She turned. Something in his look made her hands grow still.

  The air between them filled with a wealth of things that needed to be said.

  “Rose—” But words were not adequate.

  She turned her back and reached for the door handle. “I must go. Goodbye.” She fled the room. Billy had left her horse tied to the rail. Within seconds the thud of hooves rattled through his head.

  He rubbed his chin. Why did she remain so prickly when he’d succeeded in getting Father to end the feud?

  Did she find him unlikeable?

  He considered how often she’d blushed while talking to him, how her eyes had locked on his and then skittered away.

  He would not believe she found him unappealing.

  Chapter Five

  Rose sat in front of the mirror. She undid the braid that held her hair and let her locks fall across her shoulders. Waves of red dulled in the low lamplight. She began to brush her hair.

  Billy admired the red color.

  Duke said he did, too. She tended to believe him because of the way his eyes had flickered with admiration. But his words didn’t unknot the tension she felt every time her hair was mentioned. She hated her hair. People constantly made comments about it.

  She brushed mindlessly, letting scenes from the day flit through her mind.

  Billy’s loyalty to Duke.

  The way Duke had clung to her as she’d tended his wound. She smiled at her reflection. Had she ever imagined she’d be needed or wanted by a Caldwell?

  Her hands grew idle as she continued to stare at herself.

  Okay, she’d at least tell herself the truth. There was something about Duke that intrigued her. Perhaps it was only a need to find out how sincere he was.

  Or perhaps it went deeper than that. There was something in his probing gaze that touched a spot deep within her, like the gentle strumming of a guitar string. It sang soft and quiet in her heart. What would it be like to hear it wild and exuberant? Her pulse beat faster as if fueled by the beat of a drum.

  She set her brush aside and braided her hair for the night. She was Rose, the practical sister who meant to stay home and care for her parents. Where did thoughts of wild and exuberant belong?

  In someone else’s life, to be sure.

  In bed, she picked up her Bible to read a chapter as she’d done since Ma and Pa had given the girls each a Bible of their own when they were twelve years old. On the flyleaf of each Bible, Ma had written a verse and blessing for each of the girls.

  Rose looked at the well-worn page. The verse Ma had chosen for her was Psalm 139:14: “I will praise Thee: for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”

  She sighed at the words Ma had written.

  Rose, my beautiful flower, I pray for you to continually walk in the joy of who God has made you to be.

  Some days she rejoiced in who she was. She loved her family and her life on the farm. The work brought her deep satisfaction.

  But she had to confess that she didn’t always experience that contentment. Sometimes she questioned why God had given her red hair, why He had allowed her to be born into a family that abandoned her. Still, she never ended that thought without a prayer of gratitude for Ma and Pa adopting them.

  She read a chapter and turned out the light to say her prayers. God, keep my feet on a straight path. Guide me to make wise choices.

  Duke simply did not belong in that prayer.

  Her thoughts settled. Duke was a neighbor who’d needed help. Whether good neighbor or bad, it made no difference. She was foolish to think there could be more. She would not be so unwise as to let her emotions get involved.

  * * *

  “Morning, Ma. Morning, Pa,” she called as she hurried from the bedroom the next day. She tramped to the barn, shivering in the cold to feed the animals. She pulled the collar of her coat closer against the winter wind.

  She sang as she did the chores, then returned to the house. No cows were milking now, but they had frozen milk to use throughout the winter. They had a good supply of butter stored in the garden shed, as well.

  “You’re cheerful this morning,” Ma said as Rose joined them for breakfast.

  “What’s not to be happy about?” She grinned at both parents, happy to see Pa sitting at the table. “I have two wonderful parents, a barn full of healthy animals, storerooms full of produce and the snow has held off.” It had snowed heavily after Christmas but only drifts remained. “God is good.”

  “Amen.” Pa reached for her hand and she reached for Ma’s as Pa said grace, adding his thanks for the many blessings of their lives.

  After breakfast, as she helped Ma with dishes, Rose grew thoughtful. “I think I should go check on Duke. That cut was deep. It could get infected.”

  Ma gave her a long, considering look. “Yes, I suppose you should.”

  “Don’t stay long,” Pa said. “It could snow. I feel it in my bones.”

  Pa’s bones had gotten real accurate at forecasting the weather.

  “I’ll be back long before dark.” Her return depended on what she found when she got to the Caldwell Ranch.

  Ma handed her some medicinals. “Just in case.”

  She saddled up, wrapped a warm woolen scarf around her neck and rode to the ranch. A man was feeding the horses but other than that, she saw little sign of activity. No doubt the cowboys had gone out to check the cows. She knew from previous years that the cows were herded down to lower pastures for the winter and the cowboys herded them to keep them closer to home.

  No one appeared at the door as she rode up. Her nerves tensed. Hadn’t they heard her? Or was Duke feverish?

  Her heart kicked into a gallop at how sick he might be. Pausing only to slip the reins around the hitching post, she hurried to the door and knocked.

  No one called out an answer.

  She sniffed. Did she smell smoke? Was that smoke drifting beneath the door? It was. She threw the door back and coughed at the gray billows greeting her.

  Duke and Billy stood at the stove. Duke fiddled with the damper while Billy wrung his hands.

  “Are you on fire?” she called, her voice full of the same fear that burned along her nerves.

  They both turned to face her. Tears ran down Billy’s cheeks. She couldn’t tell if he was crying or if his eyes watered from the smoke. Her eyes stung and started to tear. She coughed and waved her hands to chase the smoke from the room.

  Duke’s eyes watered, as well. “Guess the damper wasn’t open.” He barely squeezed the words past his coughing.

  “It’s my fault. I’m so stupid,” Billy wailed.

  “You were only trying to help.” Duke patted h
im on the shoulder. “No harm done.” He dragged Billy toward the door and pushed him and Rose out into the fresh air. “Let’s wait for the smoke to disappear.” He turned to confront Billy. “You are not stupid and I don’t want to hear it again.”

  “Yes, Boss.” Billy hung his head. He sniffed and wiped his face on his sleeve. Then he glanced at Rose. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

  Her heart ached for the pain this young man had endured because he was different than most his age. “Oh, Billy, you aren’t stupid in the least. You’re helpful and kind. Even the animals recognize that and you know they’re real smart about people.”

  “They are, aren’t they?” He wiped at his face again, leaving streaks. “I’ll try not to be stupid again.” He went to Hope and pressed his face to the animal’s head. “You’re a nice horse. Why do you call her Hope?”

  Rose smiled at him. “Five years ago someone brought us this colt that had been injured. They said we could have him if we saved him. Ma took a look at his injuries and how thin and unhealthy he was and shook her head. I knew she thought he was a lost cause. I don’t know how many times I said, ‘It isn’t hopeless.’ And it wasn’t.” She lifted one shoulder. “So when he grew up big and strong, we called him Hope.”

  Billy laughed. “He’s a nice horse.”

  Rose nodded. “He’s a very good horse.”

  Duke pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his eyes. “Didn’t expect to see you.” He sounded less than welcoming.

  Had she expected he would be eager to see her?

  She pulled herself up tall but it was hard to appear distant and unconcerned when her eyes stung and her lungs burned. “I thought I should check on your wound. Just being neighborly.” She added the latter lest he get the notion she was doing anything out of the ordinary.

  He leaned over and coughed until she thought his lungs would come out.

  “That’s going to start you bleeding again if it hasn’t already.” She pushed him toward one of the porch chairs. “Take it easy.”