Big Sky Homecoming

by Linda Ford

  Pa hovered nearby. “You made sure Grub was in the barn?”

  “Yes, Pa. He was curled up next to one of the cows when we left.”

  “Good. Good.” He limped to the table and sat heavily.

  Ma hurried to pour tea and put out a plate of cookies, nodding at Rose for them to sit.

  Rose touched Duke’s elbow. “There’s hot tea and fresh cookies.”

  He smiled; the white bandage on his forehead a reminder of how they had reached this tenuous friendship. She touched the material. “It’s only a little damp. It’ll be okay.” She pulled back and tucked her hand against her stomach. She was grateful she didn’t have to change the dressing in front of her parents. She was afraid they would notice her strange reaction to Duke.

  She sat at the table across from Pa, who was twirling his cup round and round. What was wrong with him? She sent an inquiring glance to Ma.

  Ma shook her head. “Bert, stop fussing. Everyone is safe and sound.”

  Tension raced up Rose’s spine. Ma only used Pa’s Christian name when she was deeply concerned.

  Pa’s fingers stilled. He stared at his cup for a moment then let out a long sigh that shuddered through Rose.

  What was wrong? Were they concerned because she had spent so much time with Duke? Did they see some warning sign she didn’t see? Or that she purposely ignored?

  Pa looked down the table to Ma, his face lined with worry or concern or both. “Every storm reminds me of my father.”

  “I know.” Ma sounded so mournful that Rose put her half-eaten cookie down, unable to swallow.

  Pa turned to Duke. “My father froze to death in a storm like this.”

  Rose’s mouth dropped open. Fifteen years as his daughter and Pa had never so much as hinted at this tragedy though it explained why he was so insistent that they be well prepared for a storm. He’d cut the rope to the right length and had the girls practice making it to the barn and back while blindfolded.

  Rose had always thought he was simply being cautious.

  Why had he never told her and her sisters? And why had he chosen to tell Duke? Rose tried to decide how she felt about that. But wasn’t this exactly what she wanted? To see the Caldwells and the Bells learn to be friends. Yet her thoughts remained troubled. Would friendship invite more harassment? The wind rattled the house. They were snowbound. None of them had any choice but to shelter together. No one would misconstrue that fact.

  Her mind settled and she listened to Pa relay the details to Duke.

  “He insisted he must go check on the stock even though my mother begged him not to. I will never forget her standing at the window, looking into the swirling snow, a lamp in her hand, praying aloud for him to return. Darkness came and she insisted I go to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. Pa had been gone way too long. The snow ended midmorning the next day and my mother went looking for Pa. She returned to check on me and get warmed up, then went out again. She did that hour after hour, until finally she sank to the floor and wept.” Pa closed his eyes and pressed a hand to his chest as if it hurt to breathe.

  Rose realized she had also pressed her splayed fingers to her chest as if she could ease the pain that had woven between her ribs.

  She couldn’t take her eyes from Pa and wondered if everyone else felt the same way.

  “Ma slowly came to accept that Pa was dead. Vanished in the storm. Neighbors found his body that spring three miles from home in the middle of the prairie.”

  “What a sad tale.” Duke’s voice sounded thick and Rose shifted her gaze toward him.

  The look on his face held so much pain and concern.

  Billy wiped his eyes. He appeared to have no family except Aunt Hilda, and Rose was convinced she was likely a caregiver.

  “How old were you?” Duke asked.

  “I was ten years old. I had to grow up fast.” He sighed, then sat straighter, as if he’d forgotten the past. “I lost my father on the prairie but I found my girls there.” He smiled at Rose.

  The way he spoke of finding them always flooded Rose’s heart with warmth.

  “Have you ever heard how we found them?” he asked Duke.

  “Only bits and pieces.”

  Rose groaned. “Pa, no one wants to hear that story.” She certainly didn’t want reminders of her lack of family background, especially in front of Duke with his thirteenth-century castle.

  “I’d like to hear the whole story,” Duke protested. “I’ve never known how much of what I knew was fact and how much conjecture.”

  “My wife tells it better than I.” He smiled at Ma.

  Ma nodded. “Mr. Bell had taken me out to gather roots and herbs. He decided to load some firewood at the same time so he was in the trees while I wandered around on higher ground. I heard this strange sound. A shrill wailing. I thought an animal had been hurt and looked around trying to find it. I thought I might be able to help it should it allow me to.”

  Rose had heard this story many times. She turned her face toward Ma but watched Duke from the corners of her eyes. She wanted to judge his reaction.

  He looked at her, his eyes full of sorrow and sympathy.

  She blinked. Did he understand how it hurt to have been abandoned? But how could he?

  Ma continued her story. “I saw a movement some distance away and called to Mr. Bell that I was going to investigate.”

  “I was afraid she might encounter something dangerous so I hurried after her,” Pa added.

  “I couldn’t believe my eyes when I made out three wee little girls. The two littlest ones wailed.”

  “Lilly cried the most.” Rose didn’t know why she wanted to make that clear, except she didn’t want Duke to think her weak—not even as a child.

  Duke chuckled. “And you stuck out your chin and decided to be tough.”

  Rose blinked. It was so close to the facts. How could he possibly know?

  Ma laughed. “You’re almost right. I looked all around to see if they’d wandered away from their folks. Not a person in sight. So I went up to them. Cora—she was five then—insisted her papa was coming back to get them. I asked a few questions and discovered they’d been there overnight.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how they managed. I asked if they’d like to go with me and get something to eat. Lilly came right to my arms and said she was hungry. But Cora insisted they must wait. Rose stood staunchly at Cora’s side. I had to promise them we would find their papa.”

  “Did you ever find him?” Billy asked.

  “I’m afraid we didn’t, though we searched thoroughly and the sheriff sent notices everywhere. No one claimed the three girls and eventually we adopted them. What a joy they’ve been to us.”

  Ma and Pa beamed at Rose so fiercely that she felt her cheeks warm.

  “Lost my pa to the prairie but found my girls there,” Pa said again, almost crowing with delight. “Wish my ma had lived to enjoy them.”

  Ma pushed from the table. “Pa, you need to rest a spell.”

  They normally napped after lunch but Rose knew they had waited anxiously for Duke and her to return.

  The two of them headed for their bedroom.

  Billy sighed. “I gots no ma and pa, either.”

  Duke gripped his shoulder. “But you have friends who care about you.”

  Billy beamed. “You’re my friend, ain’t ya?”

  “I am indeed.”

  “And Rose’s, too?”

  Duke’s gaze caught Rose’s and held it with steady assurance. “Yes, Rose’s, too.”

  Billy nodded. “And Rose is my friend, too.”

  “I am indeed,” she said.

  “Can I draw now?” Billy indicated the paper that had been moved aside to serve tea.

  Rose smiled. Ma had known what Billy needed and given him drawing
things. “You go right ahead.”

  Rose gathered up the tea dishes and took them to the cupboard where she remained, watching the thick snow pelting the window.

  Duke moved to her side. “I never stopped to realize what it would be like to be left alone on the prairie.”

  She shifted so she could look at him.

  His eyes sobered. “But you found something many people don’t have.” A beat of silence passed between them.

  “I can’t think what you mean.”

  “Parents who love and adore you.”

  She nodded. “I’ve never doubted their love.”

  His blue eyes bored into hers, seeing what she did not say. “Yet it isn’t enough?”

  “It must be hard for someone with a thirteenth-century castle to comprehend.”

  He grinned as if the idea was vastly amusing. “I don’t have a castle. I don’t have much of anything except my horse, my saddle and the clothes in my closet. The rest is my father’s.”

  “You have history. Roots.”

  “That’s true. So do you. You just don’t know them.”

  “Whether they be good...or ill.” How often she’d heard that.

  “Rose.” His voice caressed her. “You are you. Isn’t that what matters?”

  She knew how dearly he wanted to be seen as Duke. “And you are you. Is that enough?”

  They studied each other soberly. Searching past the surface to the secrets beneath. The longings hidden deep within.

  The corners of his eyes crinkled; a sign of contentment. “I guess it is.” He lowered his head for a moment and then looked at her again. “Is it enough for you?”

  His voice was so quiet, so full of concern, that she felt herself yielding to him. She had to yank her senses into order before she could answer. “I suppose it is. Except—”

  “Except what?” he prodded when she paused.

  “I would like to know who my parents were. For good or ill.” She rushed on. “Cora says our mother had died. But that leaves our papa. Where is he? Is he dead or alive?” Her voice grated from her raw throat. “What kind of man would abandon three little girls? Do you know how many times I’ve asked myself that question?” She rushed onward, unable to stop the flow of her words. “Cora says we should forget it. She says he didn’t want us when we were little and we don’t need him now. Lilly says I should forget it. I might not like what I discover.” She shook her head. “But I can’t forget it.”

  He squeezed her shoulder gently and his touch calmed her mounting frustration. “Any more than I can forget being a Caldwell?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But what if you did find the truth and it was unpleasant?” His hand still rested on her shoulder, giving her the strength to face such a possibility.

  “It seems to me that knowing is better than not knowing, no matter what I discover.”

  “Maybe not.”

  She shook away from his hand. “How can I expect you to understand? You know your ancestors so far back you can’t even count.”

  “And yet in the long run, it doesn’t matter. It isn’t my name that I care about or that I want others to recognize. It’s me.”

  She sighed. “You are Duke. I am Rose. Let’s leave it at that.”

  He grinned and chucked her on the chin. “Don’t make it sound like a fate worse than death.”

  * * *

  Duke didn’t understand why it mattered so much to Rose. As he’d said, he got a little tired of being a Caldwell. Being seen only for his name. There had been times he wished he could become nobody—a man with no past, no history. He ached to make Rose see her history shouldn’t matter. “I don’t care where you came from or who your family was.”

  She nodded, her eyes dark with uncertainty. “That’s nice to know.”

  “But it’s not enough for you?”

  She smiled, though it barely reached her eyes. “It’s enough for today.” She gave another glance out the window. “It seems this storm is going to last a while. What would you like to do?”

  “Do?” He had no idea what she had in mind.

  She tipped her head and regarded him with a teasing light in her eyes.

  A tension in his shoulders he’d been unaware of until now slipped away at her change from worried to playful. “What would you do if you were home and stuck indoors during a storm?”

  “I’ve had the experience a time or two.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I read. I helped my mother roll up yarn.” At the widening of Rose’s eyes he shook his head. “She’s a fine seamstress and knits special baby sweater sets.”

  Rose’s eyes widened. “Did she make those sweater sets in Mr. Frank’s store?”

  Duke nodded slowly. “Don’t say anything. She doesn’t want anyone to know.”

  “They’re beautiful. I’ve always admired the craftsmanship.”

  “She’d be thrilled to know it.”

  A fleeting doubt crossed her face as if she didn’t believe his mother would care about her opinion. “What else did you do?”

  “Played checkers with my father. I begged Mrs. Humphrey to show me how to bake cookies but she shooed me from the kitchen.” He was a Caldwell, she’d said. He didn’t need to cook his own meals or bake his own cookies. Duke had slipped away feeling as if being a Caldwell was a punishment rather than a privilege.

  Rose gave him a long, considering look.

  He squinted at her. What sort of plan was she hatching?

  “Would you like to learn now?”

  “To bake cookies?”

  She nodded.

  “You’ll teach me?”

  “I’ll try. I can’t say if I’ll be successful.”

  He rubbed his hands with glee. “You teach and I’ll learn.”

  Her eyebrows quirked. “It’s a deal.”

  She opened a cupboard. “You’ll need a mixing bowl, a wooden spoon and—” She listed off ingredients and equipment and stood by letting him flounder around locating everything. He put it all on the table.

  Seeing what they were about to do, Billy put away his drawing and came to stand across from Duke. “I can make cookies.” He gave a little grin. “If someone tells me what to do.”

  “Then listen up, my friend,” Duke said. “I might need your help.”

  “What kind of cookies are you making?” Billy asked.

  Duke stared at the ingredients. “Rose didn’t tell me but I’m going to guess gingersnaps of some sort.”

  Rose bumped him with her elbow. “That’s correct. Now the first step...”

  He learned how to cream butter and sugar and add eggs. He learned to measure flour and other dry ingredients, then mix them in with the butter and egg mixture. He wouldn’t admit it but the mixing was hard work. Why didn’t they invent a machine to do this?

  He stirred a little too hard and some of the dough flew out of the bowl. A piece landed on the back of Billy’s hand. He ate it.

  “Yum. You’re a good cookie maker, Duke.”

  “Thank you.” He scooped up the scattered bits and dropped them back in the bowl, darting a glance at Rose to see what she thought.

  She grinned. “You’re learning fast, Duke Caldwell.”

  He kind of liked the sound of his full name on her lips. “Why thank you, Rose Bell.”

  The cookie baking momentarily forgotten, they nodded to each other, silently acknowledging that history or lack of it, land feud or not, didn’t matter while the storm raged around them. In this house they were themselves. Nothing more. Nothing less.

  “You gonna bake them?” Billy asked.

  Duke turned his attention to the task. “Is that what’s next?”

  “I think so. Isn’t it, Rose?”

 
“You are right, Billy.” She told Duke where to find the baking sheets and instructed him on greasing them.

  He dipped his fingers into the dough and pulled out some. He was about to plop it to the pan when she caught his hand and held it over the bowl.

  Her touch was sweeter than any cookie dough. He gave himself a mental shake. Best keep his thoughts on the task at hand.

  She handed him a spoon. “Take out a size somewhat larger than a walnut and make a ball.” She illustrated. “Try to keep them about the same size.”

  He did four and looked to her for approval.

  She nodded and smiled. “Good job.”

  He felt his chest swell just as Grandfather’s had when he’d talked about the Caldwells. This was much more fun than a Caldwell history lesson.

  He continued making balls and arranged them in neat rows on the baking sheet.

  “Now you flatten them with a cup dipped in sugar.”

  He did as she instructed and she had him place the tray in the oven. He’d just filled another when Mr. and Mrs. Bell came out from their bedroom.

  “It smells like ginger cookies,” Mrs. Bell said.

  “Rose is teaching me how to make them.” Duke knew he grinned widely but he couldn’t help it.

  He noticed that Mr. Bell looked refreshed and several years younger than when they’d left the kitchen. The man pressed a hand to his ribs as if they hurt. Rose said he’d been injured when Caldwell cows had stampeded through the farm. She’d left no doubt in his mind that it had been intentional. Thankfully she didn’t need to worry about it happening again.

  But what had Ebner been doing watching the farm? There were no cows nearby. No reason to be there. Duke would be sure to keep an eye on Ebner and remind him the feud had ended if the man should show any sign of wanting to continue it. The older couple sat in wooden rocking chairs with a small table between them. Mrs. Bell picked up a basket of mending while her husband opened the book Duke had brought. He smiled his gratitude at Duke, then began to read.

  Duke could tell from the expression on the man’s face he enjoyed the story.

  “Time to check the cookies.” Rose made him do everything himself and a few minutes later, a dozen sparkly cookies cooled on a rack.