by Linda Ford
He gladly obeyed her.
As she leaned over to check the wound, he grinned. “It’s nice to know you care.” He tried to make the words sound teasing but they cried from the depths of his heart and he caught his breath, waiting for her reaction.
“Just so long as you don’t blame me for your scar.”
He’d wear it with joy, remembering her gentle touch and the pleasure of having her in his house for the first time in his life.
How odd that was. Their closest neighbors had never been in this house. Nor had the Caldwells been in the Bells’ house. No wonder she was guarded around him.
“Rose, can you ever forgive the Caldwells?” And me by extension?
Chapter Seven
Rose forced her fingers to remain steady as his words exploded in her head. This wasn’t just about a neighbor needing the help of one of the Bells and some of Ma’s medicinals. He wanted her to forgive the Caldwells.
Could she?
How many times had she wanted to do something retaliatory when the Caldwells damaged the garden or threatened the animals?
“Once I was raising a pumpkin that would surely be the biggest in the area. I planned to enter it in the fall fair. But the Caldwell cows mysteriously stampeded over the garden. All that was left of my prize pumpkin was pig food.”
She’d wanted to do something, anything, to get even.
“Pa wouldn’t let me do anything to even the score. He said God expected us to forgive. Ma said we would act like neighbors should. Our behavior did not depend on how others behaved.”
She grew silent. Her fingers lingered on the bandage without applying it. She wasn’t ready to face him or to answer his question.
“I’m sorry.” That was all he said. Then he sat there, silent, as if understanding she needed to consider her answer.
She enjoyed visiting him more than a Bell should enjoy time spent with a Caldwell.
Well, of course she did. It made sense if she stopped to think about it. Her sisters had married and left home. She simply longed for company her own age.
Duke grew tired of waiting for her to respond to his question and turned to face her.
It was on the tip of her tongue to say she couldn’t forgive until the feud ended, but either he truly believed it had or he was a lying scoundrel. But that seemed at such odds with the way he watched her, his eyes softly pleading, that she couldn’t think it possible.
Ma and Pa had taught the girls Christian principles. The girls had memorized many scripture verses and one washed through her mind. A passage from Matthew, chapter 6. “If ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.” God had forgiven her much. She must do the same.
Finally she whispered, “I’m trying to forgive and forget.”
He lifted a finger to her cheek. “Thank you.”
“Do you want me to put the potatoes to boil?” Billy asked, jerking Rose’s attention from Duke’s warm touch on her face.
“Would you? And could you stir the meat?” She would let it heat, then thicken the gravy.
The moment broken, she tended to her task.
She fixed the bandage on Duke’s head and stepped back, though even three feet didn’t free her from the awareness of his presence or his power, especially when he fixed those blue eyes of his on her and smiled.
“Thanks. Now what can I do to help?”
It still surprised her that he wanted to assist in the kitchen. But she couldn’t say the idea displeased her and she hurried to the pantry and selected a jar of green beans. “You could open these and dump them in a pot.”
While he did that, she thought of dessert. Did he expect a sweet at the end of the meal? What could she make in quick order? She brightened. Ma’s sauced butterscotch pudding was just the thing.
It took five minutes to mix it together and then she stuck it in the oven. It would be ready to eat by the time they finished dinner.
A short time later they gathered around the table. Rose bowed her head, expecting Duke to say the grace as he had before.
But silence filled the room.
She peeked at him. Her heart rushed up her throat at the soft look in his eyes.
Before their gazes touched, he lowered his head and began to pray.
Her eyelids froze at half-mast. What had he been thinking? Thoughts of her? Pleasant thoughts?
As she closed her eyes, a smile warmed her lips. Something about that unguarded look poured sweetness into her soul and she ignored the warning call of her heart that clamored, You’re headed for a heap of hurt.
When he said “Amen,” she sat straight and strong.
“You sure are a good cook,” Billy said after a few mouthfuls. “Best ever.”
“Why, thank you.” She smiled at Billy, then let her gaze slide to Duke.
He grinned. “I sure do appreciate all your help.”
Was it only her imagination that his voice was husky?
“You’re welcome.” Smelling the delicious aroma of her butterscotch, she sniffed the air. “I do believe dessert is ready.” She hurried to the stove and pulled the pudding from the oven, then set it on a hot pad on the table so Billy and Duke could help themselves.
They finished the main course and took a generous portion of dessert. Both took second helpings, which pleased her no end.
It was nice to be appreciated.
“I’ll do dishes again,” Billy said when they finished.
“But, Billy, you did breakfast.”
“I like doing dishes.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t intend to argue with that.” With more reluctance than she should be aware of, she planted her hands on the tops of her thighs. “Then I should be on my way.”
Duke shook his head. “Uh-uh. Not yet. We have unfinished business.”
The well-being of the pleasant meal slipped from Rose. What did he mean?
“I was in the midst of giving you a tour of the house. And I said I would tell you what it was like down east.”
“Oh, you don’t need to bother. I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”
“I don’t mind. I find your company stimulating.” There was a definite husky sound to his words.
Her heart swelled at his comment and then clenched tight with caution. She should leave while she was still in control of her emotions.
“I have something I want to show you.” He rose and waited.
“Very well.” She could no more resist his invitation than she could ride his wild horse, even though a warning sound blared in the back of her head. This was the Caldwell home. This attraction was only make-believe on her part. She didn’t intend to throw her heart open only to have it trampled. She’d learned that lesson well enough. Or at least she should have. Hadn’t she readily given her affection to George? And what had she gotten in return but pain and disappointment? How much sense did it make to go down that path again?
None!
But without protest, she accompanied Duke through the sitting room and down the hall to the foot of the stairs where he stopped and turned to face her.
She met his gaze, wondering at the dark intensity of his eyes.
“See this?”
She moved closer to look at the large black-and-white picture hung in the stairwell. “Looks like part of an old castle.”
“It’s the remaining tower of the Caldwell castle in Scotland. The original was built in the thirteenth century.”
The thirteenth century! Imagine being able to trace your family roots back that far. She had a mere fifteen years of family history with the Bells. In comparison, it seemed so small and insignificant. It shouldn’t matter. Like Ma and Pa always said, it was how a person acted that counted.
Yet somehow it continue
d to bother her.
Duke sat on the stairs and patted a spot for her to join him.
If she had half an ounce of sense she would flee this place. What was she thinking? She didn’t belong here. Never would. Not that she had ever considered the idea.
He patted the spot again and smiled up at her. Her doubts subsided, momentarily forgotten, and she sat at his side.
The stairs were wide but still their arms brushed and it seemed as if they shared a special moment.
“My father told me about the Caldwell castle, of course,” he said. “The Caldwells lived by a motto. Honor Above All.”
Honor above all? How did that fit in with trying to drive the Bells from their land? She would never understand why their small stretch of land mattered so much to the Caldwells.
Duke went on. “My grandfather is rabid about maintaining what he calls ‘the Caldwell dynasty.’ Every time he said the name, his chest would puff out.” Duke sat back and expanded his chest to illustrate.
Rose laughed though a part of her found this talk of dynasty and landownership a little off-putting.
Duke’s chest flattened and he leaned over his knees. “You asked about my trip east. There were some wonderful parts. Getting to know my grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins was nice. Visiting places where our constitution was hammered out was great. I loved the library and museums.”
“Do I hear a but in your voice?”
“I guess you do. People seemed eager to meet me and to get to know me. I fancied myself quite a popular fellow.” He seemed regretful of his status, so she waited, sensing he had just begun to explain.
“I even fancied that a certain girl—Enid Elliot—had a special fondness for me.” His glance toward Rose was half mocking, half embarrassed. “I suppose I only saw what I wanted to.” He sighed deeply and stared at his hands where they rested on his knees.
When it seemed he didn’t mean to continue, she asked gently, “What happened?”
He worried his lips. “Turns out she was only interested in being associated with a Caldwell. She likely would have married me just to get the name.” His voice grew hard. “I was just a Caldwell to her. Not Duke. Not me.”
How often had she yearned to be seen as Rose? Not the red-haired, abandoned child adopted by the Bells. Just Rose. But it never entered her mind that Duke, with his vast history and privilege, might experience something similar.
She reached over and rested her hand on his forearm. “If it’s any consolation I think of you as Duke.” She wasn’t sure when it had become so but it was.
He shifted so he could look into her face. “Not Douglas Caldwell?”
She squinted as if considering the question. “Who is that?”
He laughed and squeezed her hand. “I perceive you have a faulty memory.”
He meant his words as a joke, but they stung her conscience as sharply as a slap to the face. What was she thinking? Indeed she had a very poor memory if she thought she could forget that he was a Caldwell and that they tried to drive the Bells from their farm. As far as she could tell, despite Duke’s words to the contrary, they still wanted to. She sprang to her feet. “I really must go or Ma and Pa will be worried about me.” Her feet carried her toward the kitchen as fast as she could go without trotting.
“Wait,” Duke called. “You haven’t seen the upstairs.”
“It would be unseemly for me to visit the bedrooms with you,” she called over her shoulder, her cheeks burning at the idea.
She rushed into the kitchen.
Billy stood waiting, an expectant smile on his face.
She slowed her frantic rush to glance around the clean room and murmur approval to Billy. Then she caught up her coat.
Duke plucked her hat and scarf from the hooks and pressed them to his chest. “Rose, what did I do? What did I say to send you running?”
She took a steadying breath and slowly brought her gaze to his, hers guarded and a little accusing, his confused and perhaps a mite hurt. She relented marginally at his look. “Duke, it’s time for me to go.” Back to her home. Back to her life as a Bell. Back to dealing with a stupid feud. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he truly believed the feud was over. But she couldn’t bring herself to mention it. She couldn’t explain why, except she didn’t want to deepen the hurt in his expression.
“I have to go.” She took her hat and scarf from his hands. “Goodbye. Goodbye, Billy.”
Duke followed her outside and to her horse. “Thank you for everything.”
She thought he’d meant to say more but he rubbed his lips together and stepped back.
“Take care of your head.” She reined Hope around and made for home.
She was almost there before the tension in her body finally relaxed.
She should have asked him about the feud. But she didn’t want to lose all the pleasant moments they’d shared over the past two days.
She reached the top of the hill and looked down on the farm. Smoke curled from the chimney and steam rose from the animal pens. Grub sat on the doorstep, oblivious to her approach, as always.
A movement off to her far right caught her attention. Ebner sat astride his horse, watching her. Her scalp tingled. He was too far away for her to see his expression but she knew he would be scowling, hoping for a way to make their lives miserable enough they would leave. She stared at him for several moments before he rode away.
Until next time.
Her gaze returned to the farm.
No matter what Duke said, the feud was not over.
* * *
Duke stared out the window a long time after Rose left. He’d said something to send her into a headlong flight, but as he reviewed the conversation in his mind, he could find nothing that he thought would have had such an effect.
They’d been talking about the Caldwells. She’d assured him she saw him as Duke. The confession had brought a swell of something so sweet, so elemental inside him that he didn’t have a name for it.
And then she’d run.
Finally he turned from the window to see Billy watching him, his face wreathed in worry.
“Was she mad at you?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
Billy nodded. “Sometimes it’s hard to know.”
His simple answer was so full of wisdom that Duke chuckled. “It is indeed. Come along. Let’s go sit in the other room.” He led the way to the sitting room that Rose had admired. In reality it was two rooms but the archway connecting the two was wide enough to make it seem as one.
He went to the second room, picked up a book and sat to read.
Billy liked to draw and had a selection of papers and pencils in a satchel. He opened it and set to work.
Duke looked around. Rose had admired these rooms, especially the books— He sat up as the memory struck. “I promised she could take some books home. She forgot and so did I.”
Billy didn’t even glance up from his work. “Can we take them over tomorrow?”
“Indeed.” He sat back. It was the perfect excuse to see her again. Maybe he’d find out why she’d hurried away from him. He looked forward to the possibilities that the visit offered.
“Oh.” Billy turned back to his papers. “She wants you to rest. You should listen to her, you know. She’s real smart, especially about things like that.”
“You’re right, Billy.” She was also smart enough to read between the lines. He just wished he knew what message he’d inadvertently given. He could ask her again but he doubted she’d tell him.
Rather than read the book he had selected, he went to the shelves and picked out half a dozen to take to Rose and her parents.
He couldn’t concentrate on anything but his upcoming visit.
* * *
The next morning t
he fire started without the smoke. Billy made porridge again and offered to clean up. “I don’t want to go out there—” He nodded toward the barn.
Duke understood Billy didn’t care to encounter any of the cowboys, especially Ebner. He went out to tend to chores himself while Billy washed the dishes.
No one else had been to the barn yet so he fed the horses, then grabbed a fork and set to work cleaning the floor.
Four cowboys entered. One chewed a toothpick, one sucked on a pipe and the other two belched.
Seems they had enjoyed breakfast.
Duke leaned on the fork. “Morning.” He called them all by name.
“Morning, Duke,” they replied as they saddled their horses.
“What are you doing this morning?” Ebner never consulted him, never informed him of the plans. It made Duke feel like a visitor when, with his father away, he was boss.
“Ebner wants us to check that north slope and make sure no cows are hiding in the trees. Says if a heavy snow comes they’ll starve.” The four of them led their horses out of the barn and Duke continued cleaning the floor.
Ebner stepped inside. Without any greeting, or an acknowledgment of Duke’s authority, he barked, “Does your father know you’re entertaining one of the Bell girls?”
“I don’t see that’s any concern of yours. This is Caldwell property and I’m a Caldwell.” He hadn’t meant to sound so high and mighty but Ebner rubbed him the wrong way.
Ebner spit. “Good ranch land fenced and broke up. Soon the whole country will be hacked up and fenced off. I sure hope I don’t live to see the day.”
Was Ebner talking about the Bells or about the settlers who came west in a steady stream? Did he carry a special dislike for the Bells or settlers in general? Not that it mattered. Father had told the cowboys to end the feud. “People have to live somewhere.”
Ebner crossed to within three feet of him and jammed his fists on his hips. “That sure don’t sound like a Caldwell. Living down east has turned you into a sissy.” He stomped off and minutes later led his horse from the barn without giving Duke a chance to argue.
He was no sissy. He was Duke, an ordinary cowboy.
