by Linda Ford
Duke’s eyes popped open. “You grow apples here?”
“Pa’s been experimenting.”
Pa’s eyes glowed. He explained how he grafted apple-bearing stocks to hardy native trees. “Every year I see more success.” His expression clouded momentarily and Rose guessed he thought of the most successful tree that had been badly damaged in the latest stampede over their farm. But he didn’t say anything. Duke hadn’t been home at the time. They could hardly hold him responsible in any way other than he was a Caldwell.
She was doing it again. Judging him for his name rather than seeing him for who he was.
She studied him as he and Pa talked. He seemed sincerely interested in Pa’s work with the apple trees.
“Wouldn’t it be something to grow apples on the ranch?” Duke’s gaze included Rose in his look of amazement.
The meal was over and Ma served tea.
Duke had brought in the sack of books and had dropped it to the floor beside his chair before the meal. Now he lifted the bundle to the table. “I told Rose she could borrow some books but she forgot to take them.”
A nicer explanation than she had run away in haste.
“So I selected some I thought all of you would enjoy.” He removed them from the sack and handed two to each of them.
“Around the World in 80 Days.” Pa sounded so pleased. “I can’t wait to read this.” He glanced at the second title. “This one, too.”
Rose looked at her titles. “Ben Hur and Treasure Island. Thank you.” What fun it would be to read both of them. And Ma and Pa’s books, too.
Ma read her titles aloud. One was a book of poems. How could he possibly have known how much Ma enjoyed poetry? The other story was about a farm in Africa. “I shall enjoy these very much. Thank you.”
Billy begged to help with dishes but as a guest in their home, Rose couldn’t let him do them alone. As she washed the dishes and handed them to Billy to dry, her attention was on the conversation between Duke and Pa, centering on a multitude of topics, including the books.
Their talk was cut short by a powerful gust of wind that rattled the window and made the door creak.
Pa looked up. “That sounds wicked. What’s going on outside?”
Rose peered at the window and wiped away frost. “It’s snowing.”
“I felt it coming.” Pa seemed satisfied his prediction had come true.
Duke bolted to his feet. “Billy, we have to get home.” He slipped into his coat and helped Billy into his.
The wind increased in velocity, wailing around the house.
Pa limped to the door and pulled it open. Snow blasted in and the wind blew frigid temperatures into the house. He pushed it shut. “You won’t be riding home in that. It’s too dangerous. But you’re welcome to stay here until it blows over.”
Rose saw Duke’s hesitation. Did he object to spending more time with the Bells?
He made his way to the door. “I’ll hunker down for a bit but I need to do something with the horses.”
Rose’s uncertainty gave way to respect. He’d only been thinking of the animals.
“It’s coming down something fierce. You’re apt to get turned around out there.” Pa turned to Rose. “You know what to do.”
She did know, having lived through more than one Montana snowstorm. She went to the closet and pulled out a length of rope, then bundled up from head to toe. “I’ll put the horses in the barn.”
She opened the door but when she tried to close it, Duke held it and stepped out.
“I’m coming,” he yelled against the noise of the wind.
“You’ll have to hang on.” She attached the rope to a hook beside the door, then wrapped the set of reins Duke handed her around her fist. He held his own horse. “Now hang on.” He gripped her shoulder as she lined up her sights for the garden shed.
She could do this with her eyes closed but Duke’s touch distracted her. Did she lean into his hand? She closed her eyes and concentrated, focusing on the ground beneath her feet, noting every change in texture to inform her if she veered from the well-worn, snow-covered path. She must keep her destination fixed in her mind, allow nothing to distract her.
The wind buffeted her and she stumbled, then righted herself.
Duke’s hand had fallen from her shoulder. She stopped. He bumped into her—a dark shadow in the swirling whiteness.
“Hang on,” she yelled.
“Don’t fall,” he shouted back.
She grinned as she paced off the distance. The dark shape of the building appeared ahead of her. She secured the rope in another steel hook, then leaned against the wall, out of the wind for the time being.
He stood in front of her, grinning. “You’re covered with snow.” He brushed her hat, her shoulders, her cheeks.
Her face grew warm enough to melt every bit of snow.
But she couldn’t resist letting him continue his task.
“That’s better,” he said.
“You’re snowy, too.” Feeling very bold, she brushed snow from his hat, his collar and although the snow on his face had melted, leaving his cheeks damp, she wiped her mittens across his face, feeling the grate of his whiskers on the wool.
Their gazes melded together. The snow blowing around the little shed enfolded them in a tiny, private world. How easy it would be to stay right here forever.
But King snorted impatiently, breaking the fantasy.
“We best move on.” She led them past the shed and followed the fence beside the garden until her hand reached the corner post and she knew it was time to veer toward the barn. First, she wrapped the rope around the post and double-checked that it was secure. This was her last refuge. If the rope came loose, she could easily get blown off course on her return journey.
Carefully, she positioned herself, not letting the swirl of the snow confuse her sense of direction. Closing her eyes helped.
She patted Duke’s hand on her shoulder to signal him to hang on and then she plunged away from the fence.
* * *
Duke gripped Rose’s shoulder. He couldn’t see two feet in front of him. If he lost contact with her he could wander around until he bumped into something but still he’d have no idea which way to go in this unfamiliar location. Not that he was completely helpless. He’d heard plenty of tales of cowboys caught in a storm that had pulled their horses down who had found shelter against the animal.
Unfortunately not all the stories had happy endings.
He tightened his grip on Rose. He was completely at her mercy, yet the thought brought only comfort.
Five steps. Ten. Fifteen. How far was it to the barn?
Beneath his hand she strained forward, her arms outstretched, feeling her way.
He curled his fingers, hoping he wouldn’t leave a bruise on her shoulder but not willing to lose contact with her.
Then a dark shadow loomed in front of them and he let out a gust of air. They were safe. Thank God for His guidance. And Rose for her courage and ability.
They edged along the wall to the corner, then faced the brunt of the wind as they made their way to the door.
Duke reached past her and pushed the door open, taking both horses and leading them inside as she secured the rope to the final hook. Then she tumbled inside and Duke pushed the door closed.
“Brr. That wind has a nasty bite. Are you okay?” He brushed the snow from her back as she wiped it from her face.
She laughed. “What an adventure.”
He stared at her. “I think you enjoyed that.”
“Now that we’re safe and sound, you have to admit it feels good to have faced the storm and survived.”
He shook his head. “You’d fit right in with Phileas Fogg.”
“Who?”
“The c
haracter in Around the World in 80 Days. He liked a good challenge, too.” He tried to sound as if he disapproved but doubted that he succeeded. There was something about Rose with her cheeks all rosy and her eyes flashing with victory that filled him with admiration.
He didn’t realize how long they’d been staring into each other’s eyes until King bunted him in the back. He jerked away. He had enjoyed those delicious moments of brushing the snow from her clothes, of laughing over her boldness. Longing rose within him...a feeling so rich and bold it almost felt like pain.
He led King to the end of the barn and removed his saddle and gear, then set to brushing him. Rose did the same with the horse Billy had ridden over.
They’d known each other all their lives yet he knew so little about her. Oh, he knew she could grow fierce if her sisters were teased. He knew she liked to be the first to recite the times tables. At the church suppers, he’d discovered she fancied lemon pie. He’d seen her out riding enough to guess she enjoyed that activity. But now he wanted to know everything. What were her favorite activities? What did she fear the most? He’d be sure to keep such a thing from her if he could. What had she been like as a child? How did it feel to have a twin sister? Any sort of sister? He’d grown up an only child, finding company in kindhearted cowboys on the ranch.
The wind tore at the barn, rattling every door. “It sounds strong enough to strip bark from trees,” he said.
She chuckled. “You’ll be here until this is over.”
He couldn’t see her face to tell if she found pleasure at the thought or if she regretted the need.
“Billy and I could stay in the barn.” He spoke cautiously, not welcoming the idea but determined to give her the option.
She came around the horse and faced him.
It didn’t take any imagination to know she didn’t like what he’d said. Her eyes flashed just as they had so many years ago when she had challenged Morty. But he refused to back away as Morty had done.
“You would sooner stay in a cold barn with only animals for company than share space with the Bells?” Anger edged every word and she closed the distance between them until they were toe to toe.
He wasn’t afraid of her. In fact, he kind of enjoyed this side of Rose. All sparks and fire. A slow grin pulled at his mouth and widened until she blinked.
He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “Of course I wouldn’t. But won’t we crowd you?”
“Not in the least. We’re used to small quarters. But you’re used to a big house. Will you be comfortable?”
“A house is a lonely place without good company, which I expect to enjoy in your house.”
From the look in her eyes, he knew her anger fled, replaced with confusion.
It pleased him to have confounded her.
“Good company?” She swallowed hard. “You mean my pa.”
“I expect he’s very good company. We will surely find lots to talk about. I’m particularly interested in how he’s growing apples here. But that isn’t who I had in mind.” Why was he teasing her this way?
Because he reveled in the emotions flitting across her face. Her confusion now gave way to surprise.
“Ma is a good one to talk to. She’s very wise. Knows lots about medicinals and healing plants, and Bible truths and cooking. She has some wonderful recipes.”
He placed a finger on her lips to silence her. “I’m sure she does. I’ll be sure and consult her should I need medical treatment. But haven’t you forgotten someone?”
Her eyelids fluttered. Her lips pursed as if she enjoyed his finger on them. She swallowed loudly. “Who? Billy?”
“You. I intend to enjoy your company.” He meant it sincerely.
Surprise filled her face and she took three steps backward before she stopped.
“Why are you so surprised?” he asked.
She made a protesting noise without answering even though he waited expectantly. He longed for her to acknowledge the growing attraction between them but she didn’t. After a moment he picked up the brush and resumed brushing King. She returned to caring for Billy’s mount. Neither of them spoke as she brought a ration of oats to each horse.
He took his time about putting away the saddle and bridles, about setting the curry brush back in the tack room. If not for Billy he’d remain in the barn simply to avoid the cold feeling her silence caused.
“The trouble is, you are a Caldwell.” She stood in the doorway. “For the past eight years I’ve had to be on guard against your family and your cowboys. Suddenly you say it’s all changed...but I’m afraid my old habits remain.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I’m afraid if I let my guard down we’ll be caught unawares. A stampede, a fire, our animals hurt, even killed—or worse, Ma or Pa hurt.”
Every word she spoke burned a path through his thoughts. She didn’t believe him. He shouldn’t have stayed in the tack room, giving her an opportunity to corner him. He stubbornly kept his back to her and didn’t answer. What could he say? She was right. He was permanently branded with the Caldwell name and the Caldwell feud. She would never see him as anything else. He couldn’t change the fact. But for a few delicious hours he’d thought she’d seen him as Duke.
Was he to forever be judged by his name and not by his merit?
Chapter Nine
Rose searched for words to explain what she meant. “It’s not that I don’t see you as Duke, but that doesn’t change the fact you are a Caldwell. For eight years they’ve been set on driving the Bells from our land. Don’t you see how big a jump it is for me to see you as a friend when we’ve been adversaries most of my life?” The words wailed a protest within her head, though she congratulated herself on keeping her voice calm and reasonable.
He shrugged and kept rearranging the curry brushes.
She closed the distance between them but still he kept his back to her. Fine. She could talk to his back.
“You say the feud is over but perhaps you are mistaken. Yesterday, when I returned, Ebner was watching the farm. Surely you can understand why that would put me on guard.”
He flung around at that. “It seems to me that if we’re friends—” a world of doubt hung on that one word “—you have to believe me about ending the feud. I spoke to Father about it before he left and he told the cowboys it was over. We have to be prepared to forget the land feud.” He rushed on before she could protest. “Otherwise friendship is impossible.” His eyes filled with so much disappointment that her heart beat a protest.
He returned his attention to the items on the shelf.
She grabbed his arm and pulled him fully around to face her. “What if you misunderstood?”
He looked past her, his jaw muscles bunched. “Seems you’re accusing me of deceit. Or perhaps my father.”
“I truly wish I could be confident it is over,” she offered in her most conciliatory tone. Oh, how she wished it. For her family. For the security of their farm. For their peace of mind.
And also because she enjoyed Duke’s company.
But the facts refuted Duke’s insistence that it had ended.
There was nothing more to be said. She turned to walk away but he caught her shoulder and stopped her.
“Are you saying you don’t wish to be my friend?”
The longing in his eyes, the plea in his voice, drove away her caution. “I think it’s too late for me to make such a claim.” Despite her uncertainty about the feud, she would never see him as an enemy again.
The meaning of her words dawned in his eyes. He squeezed her shoulder gently, an action that made her knees limp. His gaze drifted along her cheeks and returned to her eyes. He smiled. He might as well have hugged her for the effect it had on her. Every argument fled. Every bit of caution faded.
He chuckled. “Then let’s enjoy our friendship.”
She ignor
ed the questions hammering in the back of her brain. What was Ebner doing watching the farm? She dare not let her guard down. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy Duke’s company. “Yes, let’s.”
His smile filled his eyes with such crystal blue she almost thought the sun had broken through the clouds. “Good. Now are you ready to go back to the house?”
Part of her longed to stay here, sheltered and hidden in the barn where real life could be ignored. But Ma and Pa would worry and the last thing she wanted was for Pa to bundle up and come looking for her.
She pulled her coat closed, did up the buttons and wrapped her woolen scarf around her head and neck. He did the same thing. They pulled on their mittens.
“Now you stay close and hang on tight to the rope,” she instructed. “I wouldn’t want you to get lost out there.”
They stood at the door, listening to the wail of the wind and the snow pelting against the barn. She hated to venture into the storm but she had no choice.
Duke pushed the door open and she grabbed the rope. He closed the door tight and the rope twitched as he grabbed it. They stayed close together as they fought their way back to the house.
The golden glow in the kitchen window welcomed them seconds before her hand hit the wall. Ma’s doing, to help guide her home.
She fumbled with the door handle. It gave as Pa pulled it open.
“You’re back safe.” He unwrapped her scarf and took her coat from her shoulders.
She turned to check on Duke. He’d removed his outerwear and was shaking his head to get rid of the snow clinging to his hair. His blond locks sparkled with moisture.
Her mouth grew dry as she stared.
“Let’s put your things to dry.” Pa gathered the coats and the scarves and mittens and hung them over chairs next to the stove.
Ma stood by watching.
Billy sat at the table, a piece of paper in front of him. “Is Patches okay?”
“She’s buried in a nest of hay, safe and warm.” Rose hurried to the stove, lifting her hands to the welcome warmth.
Duke did the same.
