by Linda Ford
Duke eyed it. Did she keep a journal? Would it have something about him in it?
“Pa, where’s the checkers game?”
“Top shelf.” He didn’t even look up, his attention again on reading the book Duke had brought.
Duke knew a degree of satisfaction that he’d chosen a book the man enjoyed. Bringing the books had been an excellent idea. Especially as it provided this opportunity to spend time with Rose and her family.
He crossed to where Rose pawed through the contents of the top shelf. “Is this your journal?” He touched the book.
“No.” She pulled down the checkerboard and the markers. “Want to play a game or two?” She grinned at him.
He knew he wasn’t mistaken in seeing a challenge in her eyes. Ah, so she thought she could beat him at the game, did she? Well, he hadn’t played his father and grandfather and several uncles and cousins for naught. “Sure.”
But still he eyed the leather-bound notebook. “Not a journal?”
“Nope.” She carried the game to the table and set it up.
“You’re writing a novel?”
She shook her head and arranged the board to her liking.
“Then it’s an autobiography?”
She snorted and gave him a look so rife with disbelief that he didn’t know if he should grin or hang his head.
Out of the corners of his eyes he watched her parents exchange a smile. That’s when he realized she was egging him on. Fine. He could play this game.
“Okay. Let me guess.” He pressed his finger to his chin and tried to think what she might write in that book.
Her gaze rested on his finger, her eyes warm as spring sunshine.
He forgot what he was supposed to be doing as he watched her.
Billy looked up from his drawing. “I know. It’s a drawing book.”
Rose shook her head. “Nope.”
Duke’s brain kicked into gear again. “Farm records?”
She rolled her eyes.
It was impossible to think when she teased him. He tossed his hands in the air. “I give up. It must be some kind of secret correspondence.” He’d spoken without thinking, but as soon as the words slipped from his mouth he wondered if that could be a possibility. Perhaps she pasted in letters from a beau. It made him want to grab the book and toss it into the stove.
“Rose, show him the journal,” Mrs. Bell said.
“Fine. Seeing as he’ll never guess.” She retrieved it from the cupboard and handed it to him.
Billy leaned over his shoulder as Duke opened the pages. On each page he saw drawings of plants and lists of the medicinal qualities of each, plus titles such as “Ma’s remedy for gout.” He stroked a page with an especially detailed drawing of a plant called deer tongue.
“These drawings are beautiful. Exquisite.”
She blushed clear to the roots of her hair. “It’s a record of Ma’s medicinals.”
Mrs. Bell rested her darning in her lap. “I have all the information in my head and have taught it to the girls, but Rose took on this project. I’m rather pleased to see what she’s done.”
Duke couldn’t stop turning the pages and admiring both the drawings and the perfect penmanship. He grinned at her. “I see Mr. Daley’s lessons had an effect on you.”
Laughter burst from her. “Remember how he made us stand at the chalkboard until we could make each letter perfectly?”
“I spent hours there. I could never get my writing good enough to please him. One day he said I couldn’t leave until I made my Gs properly. He kept me so late my father came looking for me and was he ever angry. He said he thought something terrible had happened to me.” Duke tipped his head. “That day I felt pretty important to my father.”
“I’m sure you are.” Rose planted her elbows on the table and rested her chin on the heels of her upturned hands. “I never knew he kept you after school, though. I guess I thought—” She shrugged. “Guess I was wrong.”
“What did you think?”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
They considered each other, the air between them heavy with a thousand memories, almost as many misunderstandings and false judgments.
“Let me guess,” he murmured. “You thought I would never be punished by a teacher.”
The flicker of her eyes said he’d understood her reason. “I can’t believe he dared to discipline a Caldwell.”
He turned his attention to the game and made a move. “My life wasn’t all that easy, you know.”
She moved her checker piece and looked at him expectantly. Whether she meant for him to make a move or to explain his statement, he couldn’t say. He chose to do the latter first.
“My father has very high expectations of me. He expected me to work alongside the cowboys so I’d learn every aspect of ranch life. I didn’t mind, especially when Angus was our foreman. He treated me kindly.”
“I remember him. He never harassed us.”
“He quit and Ebner replaced him. Ebner has never treated me—” Would he sound like a whiner? “I think he delighted in making my life miserable.” Maybe he still did. Duke moved his checker piece rather than meet her gaze, but when he sat back, there was nowhere else to look but at her.
Her eyes were soft as rabbit fur. Full of sympathy. “We’ve found Ebner to be rather unkind, as well.” Her expression hardened. “But your father must approve of him.”
The truth lay like a rock in Duke’s stomach. Why did his father keep the man? Was it because he approved of the foreman’s actions? Or did he even know? It suited Duke better to think his father didn’t know, but how could that be? His father would have to purposely ignore all the evidence.
“It was Angus who’d first called me Duke.” He’d been wanting to tell her how he got the name and now was the perfect opportunity.
She opened her mouth to say something and closed it again without uttering a word. From the look that flashed across her face he knew that what she’d been about to say made her feel guilty.
“It wasn’t because I thought I ruled the roost.”
Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, proving to him she’d been thinking along those lines.
“I thought it meant you were next in line to the throne,” she admitted.
He chortled but it didn’t completely erase the hurt of her opinion.
“So tell me why Angus called you Duke.”
Seems both of them were eager to leave behind her judgment.
“I was a little guy when he first came and he asked me my name. Well, I couldn’t say Doug clearly and he thought I said Duke. That’s what he called me from then on.”
“That’s sweet.”
“I wish Angus hadn’t left.”
“Why did he?”
Duke pondered the question. “Let me see. I was eleven or twelve when he left. I think he and my father argued about something.”
Rose sat straighter, her hands folded in her lap. “Wouldn’t that be about the same time we moved here?” She spoke so low he had to strain to hear her.
He’d never thought of it. But now it seemed so obvious he wondered how he could have missed it. Had Angus quit rather than try to drive the Bells off their land? That meant his father had hired Ebner knowing exactly what sort of man he was. The idea sat like a hot rock in the pit of his stomach.
Rose moved her checker. “Your turn.”
He understood she meant the game but perhaps it was his turn on other fronts, too. Maybe ending the feud wasn’t enough. Maybe he had to get rid of Ebner, as well.
He’d need more than his suspicions, of course, though he wasn’t sure how he’d get the facts to prove his theory.
If he did fire Ebner, would Rose finally believe that the feud was over?
Would she fin
ally see him as more than a Caldwell?
Chapter Eleven
“I win.” Duke sat back and grinned at Rose.
She had meant to beat him at the game but her thoughts hadn’t been on checkers.
How could she concentrate with Duke sitting across from her, his blue eyes bright as a summer sky as he talked about Angus and how he got nicknamed Duke? A cute little story. Then at her suggestion that Angus had been dismissed to get someone who would harass the Bells, Duke’s eyes had grown dark and stormy. She knew she wasn’t mistaken in thinking he found the idea loathsome, but it wasn’t as if he didn’t know about the feud. Everyone did. She couldn’t imagine what he objected to unless... A pleasing idea came and stayed. Unless he truly did find the feud unnecessary and wrong. Had he tried to end it as he said? Did his father truly ask the cowboys to cease harassing the Bells?
Oh, if only that could be so.
Not that it would make the impossible differences between her and Duke disappear. Besides, she’d seen no evidence the feud had ended. She’d seen Ebner watching the farm and that did not bode well for the Bells.
No, she’d not believe anything but the facts.
She brought her focus back to the game. “Best two out of three?”
At his nod, she set up the game again.
He made the first move then leaned back. “Do you remember that time at the church picnic when we got paired up in a three-legged race?”
She stared at him as the memory blared through her thoughts. Her cheeks warmed. “You complained my legs were too short and we couldn’t possibly win a race because of it.” He’d scowled fiercely at her as if it was her fault she was much shorter than he. Why would he bring it up? Did he mean to remind her of the friction between them?
He chuckled. “I figured there had to be a way to compensate so we could win the race.”
She ducked her head and moved a checker with absolutely no thought to strategy. Had his scowl back then meant concentration rather than anger?
He grinned so widely it burned away any resentment the memory carried.
She tried to cling to her feelings. Tried to protect her heart.
“Do you remember what we did?”
She shook her head. It was empty of everything but the way his gaze probed into her thoughts.
“I told you to plant your foot on top of mine as I tied our legs together, then I held you around the waist and practically carried you. We won, remember? Each of us got a very nice peppermint stick as our prize.”
Rose’s face burned. All she remembered was embarrassment and resentment. “You thought it was fun?” she murmured, unable to meet his eyes.
“It was a hoot.” He ducked his head, trying to see her face. “Didn’t you think it fun?”
“I thought you were angry at me.” She could barely push the words from her throat. Thankfully they were only a whisper so no one else in the room could hear them.
He leaned back and didn’t speak.
She stole a glance from under the shelter of her eyelashes.
Was it her imagination? He looked hurt.
She brought her head up and faced him squarely.
They studied each other with wary, guarded eyes. The past was full of hurts and misunderstandings. The present, she realized, was warm and cozy and ripe with possibility. But the future— No, she would not rob today’s enjoyment by borrowing from tomorrow.
A smile came from her heart to her lips. Her eyes felt as if a fire had been kindled inside and the warmth escaped from them. Would he see that she was sorry for constantly misjudging him?
He nodded and smiled back at her. “Good thing the past is past and each day is a new beginning.”
“I like that.” A promise of so many better things to come.
Twice more he beat her at checkers but she didn’t care. What did it matter who won?
Ma brought some extra bedding from their bedroom, signaling it was time for bed.
Rose put the game away. “Good night.” Her gaze circled the room to include everyone. It ended at Duke and lingered, caught by the intensity in his eyes.
Pa shuffled across the floor. “Good night, daughter.”
She strode past Duke, avoiding his gaze. “I hope you’ll be comfortable.” She hurried to her room and closed the door, leaning against it a moment to gather her senses. When had she ever been so scatterbrained? So blatantly confused by the presence of a man? Pa must think the wind had started to make her nervous.
When she glanced at the three narrow beds in her room, a coherent thought broke through the haze of her mind. In the main room was only a single cot, which meant either Billy or Duke would have to sleep on the floor. She guessed Duke would insist Billy use the bed. Why couldn’t Duke and Billy sleep here and she sleep on the cot?
Immediately she reached for the door handle. But just as quickly she dropped her hand and stepped back. Pa would likely not allow it. Even if he would, the idea of Duke in her bedroom would forever make it impossible to forget him.
Instead, she turned to prepare for bed. The room was cold, buffeted as it was by the persistent north wind, and she hurried through her routine. Finally she lay in bed, the covers pulled tightly to her chin. She lay tense, straining to catch any sound from the other room. The only thing she heard was the wind and she relaxed and let sleep claim her.
She woke to the sound of Pa starting a fire in the stove. The frosty air made her burrow deeper under the covers. The wind still battered the house and she smiled. One more day with Duke. The thought was enough to make her throw back the covers and hurry to get dressed, dancing as her feet encountered the cold floor.
A few minutes later she stepped into the living area. Billy and Duke were standing at the cupboard watching Ma slice bacon and drop it into the frying pan.
Billy glanced out the window. “Don’t you think the animals will be cold?”
“The barn is solid and warm,” Pa assured him.
“But the little cats might be hungry.” Billy wrung his hands. “What will Patches eat?”
Duke patted Billy’s shoulder. “She’ll be fine. Cats are smart, you know.”
“But maybe she’s afraid.” He cocked his head. “Maybe she thinks the sound of the wind is a terrible monster.”
“Billy, why don’t you watch the bacon for me?” Ma handed him a fork and guided him to the stove where she explained what he should do. He concentrated on the task for a moment.
“I think she’d like a piece of bacon.”
Rose sighed. “Billy, would you like me to check on Patches after breakfast?”
“Oh, yes. I’d like that.” Then his face wrinkled with worried concentration. “But it’s still storming. Maybe you shouldn’t go out there.”
“I need to check on the animals.”
“Okay, then.”
“You’ll have breakfast first,” Ma said. “Maybe by then the storm will be over.”
Rose’s heart sank. If the storm ended, Duke and Billy would leave. It would happen sooner or later, of course, but she would delay if she could. The snow and wind insulated them together, eliminated the outside world and its trials. If only she could hope to maintain the feeling after the storm ended. Now, that was an impossible idea!
“What are you making?” Billy asked. “Can I help?”
Rose took over the bacon as Ma taught Billy how to make pancakes.
Duke leaned against the cupboard next to the stove and watched her. “If I stay here a few days I might learn to rustle up a few decent meals.”
“Here.” She handed him the fork. “No time like the present to learn a few skills.”
He expertly flipped the bacon, removing slices as they were perfectly crisped.
“I’m impressed, but I think you’ve done this before.”
&nb
sp; He grinned at her. “Mostly over a campfire. This is somewhat easier.”
The pancake batter was ready and Ma insisted Billy make them. The first few spoonfuls he dropped on the griddle were misshapen but Ma showed him how to make them round and Billy soon had a stack of nicely browned pancakes ready.
Duke leaned close to murmur in Rose’s ear. “Your ma is an excellent teacher with Billy.”
Rose nodded. “Ma is always so patient.” But it was more than that. Her ma instructed Billy softly and kindly, and Billy responded quickly.
Over breakfast, Billy returned to fussing about Patches.
Finally, Pa turned to Rose. “Why don’t you bring that cat to the house when you return? If that’s okay with your ma.”
Ma patted Billy’s hand. “Will that make you feel better?”
“Yes.” Billy’s voice broke. “I’ll do the dishes every meal we’re here. I’ll sweep. I’ll—”
Ma stopped him. “Billy, I don’t expect you to become our slave.”
Billy nodded.
Rose stole a glance at Duke to see his reaction and caught him watching Ma with a look of respect. Rose lowered her gaze as he shifted, not wanting to be caught staring at him. But curiosity drove her to look again. Now he regarded Pa with the same awe and respect.
As soon as they finished, Ma said she and Billy would do dishes.
“I’ll go to the barn then.” Rose started to put her outerwear on.
“I’ll go with you,” Pa said.
Both he and Duke hurried to their feet though Pa did so much slower and with a groan. He pressed a hand to his ribs.
“These old bones feel the cold,” he muttered.
Rose knew he hated to show any sign of weakness.
Duke planted a hand on Pa’s shoulder. “Sir, you stay here and take care of your missus and Billy. I’ll go with Rose. I’ve done it once already. I know what to do.”
Pa sank back, his face drained of color as the pain he tried to hide grabbed him. “’Preciate that.”
