When Rose arrived at the boardinghouse, she shifted over and let Kate drive. A flick of the reins and the team moved into a trot.
The only person stirring was a milkman making his morning deliveries on a creaking wagon drawn by a swaybacked horse. He nodded to them in passing.
“Mornin’, ladies.”
Kate returned the greeting brightly but Rose’s reply was distracted, her mind filled with the encounter at the livery. She had just met the man the day before, and already she was dreaming of him, couldn’t get him out of her thoughts, and let him kiss her. But worse—she had enjoyed that kiss! If she didn’t put thoughts of Zach MacKenzie aside, she’d be moving around like the walking dead.
After about a mile, Kate broke the silence between them. “You’re very quiet this morning, Rose. Is there something bothering you?”
This was the ideal time to really get acquainted with the girl, and Rose decided to use the opportunity. “Kate, have you ever been attracted to a man?”
“Certainly.” Kate giggled. “Are you under the impression there’s no handsome men in Wisconsin?”
“I don’t mean just good-looking; I mean one who’s attractive enough that you’d be willing to . . . you know, let him kiss you or even . . . ah—”
“Rose Dubois, are you asking me if I’ve ever been intimate with a man?”
“I wasn’t, but now that you’ve said it—well, have you?”
“No, I’m still a virgin—as pure as the day I was born,” Kate said, with another delightful giggle that Rose wished she could imitate. “I was raised on a farm, and it seems like the male of any species gets the better of the bargain: he can satisfy his appetite, then trot away. It’s the female who ends up carrying the load as the result, and bearing the pain of the birthing. I’ve seen enough of that to discourage me from considering it.”
“So no man’s kiss has ever excited you enough to break down that barrier.”
“Not yet, at least.” Kate turned her head and flashed a dimpled smile. “It would have to be some kiss. Now may I ask you a personal question?”
Rose raised a hand to stop her. “I know what you’re going to ask. No, I am not a virgin.”
“Well, did you . . . was it . . . Did you enjoy it enough to risk getting pregnant?”
Did I enjoy it? Wes never even attempted to make it pleasant for me; he just satisfied his own carnal pleasures. Even when I’d close my eyes and try to pretend I loved him, it never worked or made it easier to bear. And after he was through, he’d just roll over, blow out the lamp, and go to sleep. Never a word or a good-night kiss. Not that I wanted one; even his kiss repulsed me.
Did I enjoy it? It was a living hell.
She’d learned the hard way that it was foolish to give yourself in love to any man. Love was a naive, wasted expectation of gullible dreamers, because men were all bastards. Yet comparing Wes’s kiss to Zach MacKenzie’s was like comparing darkness to light—ice to heat. She couldn’t help wondering what would have happened last night if she’d allowed him to continue kissing her. A shiver rippled her spine. She sensed his lovemaking would be as intense as his kiss. He had an air about him that made her believe that his pride would demand he bring the woman to satisfaction. And he certainly had the know-how to do it; his kiss revealed that.
“Well, did you?” Kate repeated, intruding on Rose’s thoughts.
For a few seconds Rose gazed dumbfounded at Kate, wondering how she knew about Zach, then realized Kate was repeating the question she’d asked about lovemaking.
“No, I never enjoyed it, or loved the man enough to want his child.”
“Then why did you ever become intimate with him, Rose?”
“It’s very complicated.” Rose wasn’t ready to tell her about that painful time in her life—so painful she hadn’t even told Emily. But she knew that one day she’d have to let it out. If she didn’t tell someone, it would continue to fester like a cancer within her.
“What if you had become pregnant?”
“Fortunately, Kate, there are ways to prevent getting pregnant.”
“Yes, I’ve heard, but I don’t think I’d ever try one.”
Realizing the conversation had become too glum, Rose turned her head and smiled at the young girl. “So what I’m going to do, honey, is marry for money. Luxury can be a strong ally in fighting disillusionment.”
“Maybe you’re right—but I don’t think I could ever be intimate with a man unless I loved him very much.” Kate flicked the reins and the horses picked up their pace.
When Kate pulled up in front of the barn, Calvin and Effie Wilson came out of their small home. Now too old to work the surrounding farm, the couple was content to spend their remaining years in the house Calvin had built for his young bride over fifty years before.
Although it was customary for the Harvey organization to ship in fresh meat and produce by rail, Fred Harvey often made arrangements with local residents to furnish these products if they lived up to his high standards.
And although Harvey was a taskmaster who demanded his employees honor his rules to the hilt—he’d even been known to fire a manager who cut back on the size of customers’ portions in order to save money—he had a kind heart and had given the egg contract to the Wilsons. He’d even agreed to have the eggs picked up by a Harvey employee so that the old man would not have to make the daily delivery.
“Mornin’, ladies,” Calvin said. “I’ll go get you the eggs.”
“You ladies got time for a cup of coffee?” Effie asked. “Just baked corn bread, and I’ve made apple butter to spread on it. ’Tain’t as fancy as the food in that there restaurant of yours, but you’re welcome to join us.”
Rose knew she and Kate had little time to spare, but she didn’t want to disappoint the couple. This was her second trip to the Wilson farm, and she found them to be so like the grandparents she’d always yearned to have.
“We’d love to, Mrs. Wilson,” she said. “Wouldn’t we, Kate?”
“I’ll say,” Kate agreed. “I haven’t tasted any apple butter since I left my daddy’s farm.”
Both of the Wilsons grinned broadly, then Effie said, “You gals come right along with me. Coffee’s on the hearth.”
As soon as Rose stepped inside, she closed her eyes and breathed in the aroma of the tiny house. It reminded her of a country store: a delightful blend of cinnamon, candles, beeswax, apples, and dried flowers.
Crocheted doilies adorned the arms and backs of chairs in the tiny living room, and needlepoint cushions covered the kitchen chairs. An embroidered sampler thanking God for His blessings hung on the wall, and braided cotton rugs were laid strategically on the floor. Pride and effort had gone into the construction of the handmade cabinetry and pieces of furniture.
Rose sighed. It might be a small house, but it was a huge home.
“Did you hear tell about the trouble last night?” Calvin asked when they were seated around the table.
“Trouble?” Rose asked.
“Over at the Lazy R. Steve Rayburn rode past this mornin’ on the way into town. He said rustlers drove off part of his herd last night and killed both of his cowpunchers.”
“How horrible!” Kate exclaimed.
“Yep. Wonder if it’s got somethin’ to do with the strange light folks claim to see in the hills. Maybe we got an outlaw gang living up there.”
Rose thought of Tait’s gang. Could they have rustled the cattle? If so, it must have been either very early or very late, because it’d been almost ten o’clock when Zach MacKenzie had shown up at the restaurant.
“Have there been any other cattle rustled recently?” Rose asked.
Calvin shook his head. “Not that I’ve heard tell. Guess we’ve been lucky till now.”
Rose asked the question that was foremost on her mind. “What time did this happen?”
“Didn’t ask Rayburn, but I reckon durin’ the night, ’cause there was only a couple wranglers watchin’ the herd he’d rounded up to ship out
next week.”
“They’ve got to get some decent law in here,” Effie interjected. “That Sheriff Bloom ain’t no help.”
“I agree with you,” Rose said. “The town’s full of unsavory characters, and the streets are wild.”
“What is this talk about a mysterious light in the hills?” Kate asked.
“Effie and me ain’t seen it, but some folks claim they have. I’m thinkin’ of ridin’ out and takin’ a look at it for myself.”
“More ’n likely it’s someone minin’ or somethin’ like that, Cal,” Effie said.
“What would he be minin’ for, Effie? Ain’t nothin’ of value up there.”
Rose’s instinct began racing. She couldn’t help thinking that Tait and his gang were involved.
The girls left shortly after, each with a jar of Effie’s apple butter. Rose drove the team on the return trip to Brimstone.
“Just think, Cal and Effie have been married for over fifty years. That’s so inspiring,” Kate gushed.
“So is a mountain, but that doesn’t mean I want to climb one for fifty years.”
“Oh, you don’t fool me for one minute, Rose Dubois. You’re not as superficial as you try to make people believe. After meeting Cal and Effie, how can you doubt the importance of marrying for love?”
“I agree the Wilsons are a precious couple, Kate. But the thought of living fifty years with the same man makes me more determined than ever that he’d better be a rich one,” Rose countered.
Chapter 4
By the time Rose reined up at the rear of the Harvey House, Brimstone had come to life. As with so many of these lazy Western towns, most of the business activity occurred in the morning before the heat of the day closed in; then the town appeared to slumber in the afternoon, and woke again in the evening, rowdy and boisterous.
Everett Billings hurried out of the kitchen door for the eggs, reminded them that the morning train was due shortly, and went back inside.
“We’ve only got a half hour to change,” Kate said on the way back to the livery.
“I’ll drop you off at the boardinghouse; it’s on the way. There’s no need for both of us to have to rush.”
As soon as Kate jumped down, Rose continued on. The street seemed busier than usual, and she slowed the team for several children crossing in front of her. She glanced over and saw Jess Tait and his gang leaning against a hitching post—Zach MacKenzie wasn’t among them.
Rose attempted to speed up, but Tait stepped out and grabbed the bridle of one of the team. “Look what we got here, boys. If it ain’t Miss Smarty Ass herself.” His fat lips protruded in a smirk from amidst his bushy beard. “I’ve been meaning to look you up, sister.”
“Kindly release the horse, Mr. Tait. I’m in a hurry,” Rose said.
“Zat right? Hear that, boys: Miss Smarty Ass is in a hurry.”
Zach rode up just in time to hear the end of the conversation. “Let her be, Jess. The whole town’s watching you.”
Tait snorted. “Like I care. Since you’re in such a hurry, sister, I’ll give ya a little help.”
Before Rose guessed his intent, Tait yanked the reins so hard that she lost her grip on them. Then he drew his Colt and fired several shots in the air. Rose screamed as the team bolted and she fell across the seat. Out of control, the driverless buggy lurched down the street, the reins flapping like a whip at the heels of the horses.
“You damn fool!” Zach shouted at Tait. He goaded his horse and galloped down the road in pursuit of the buggy.
Amidst cries and shouts, people scattered in all directions, trying to avoid being trampled or struck by the careening buggy as the horses raced down the street, trailing a cloud of dust behind them. Another rider had joined the chase by the time Zach caught up.
Tossed and slammed about, Rose struggled to keep from being thrown off the buggy that threatened to overturn any minute. She managed to get a grip on the seat, then watched, horrified, when Zach leaped from his own horse onto the back of one of the team. Within seconds, he succeeded in halting the buggy.
Rose managed to regain her seat and was adjusting her disheveled clothing when the other rider galloped up and dismounted.
“Are you hurt, miss?” he asked worriedly.
“I don’t think so.” Her trembling legs managed to support her when he assisted her off the vehicle. People began to close in around her, and the solicitous stranger put a firm hand on her elbow and led her over to a bench in front of the general store.
“Sit here and catch your breath,” he said in a concerned tone.
“Thank you.” Her trembling had ceased, and she drew several deep breaths in an effort to regain her control.
Her gaze swept the crowd and fell on Zach MacKenzie. He was standing alone near the buckboard, looking at her with a strange expression on his face. She remembered the strength in the arms that had held her last night, and at that moment, she wanted more than anything to feel them around her again and draw the comfort of his strength. Zach MacKenzie was the last person she’d ever expect to become her knight in shining armor, but he’d ridden to her rescue at the risk of his own life. Had he fallen, he very well could have been trampled to death.
It would be hard for her to ignore that truth in whatever might lie ahead between them.
Zach nodded, touched his finger to the brim of his hat, then turned away. As he led the horses toward the livery, her gaze continued to follow the tall figure until he disappeared.
“Are you certain you don’t need a doctor?” the stranger asked.
“No, I’m fine now.” Smiling, she added, “Thank you for your help, Mr. . . .”
“Rayburn. Stephen Rayburn,” he said, removing his hat.
“I’m grateful, Mr. Rayburn. And I’m Rose Dubois.” She stood up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to change my clothes and get to work.”
Stephen Rayburn stepped back. “I insist upon escorting you to your lodging, Miss Dubois.” He grasped her by the elbow again.
As they walked back to her boardinghouse, Rose tried to remember where she’d heard his name before, then she recalled that Cal Wilson had mentioned it earlier.
“I understand you had a misfortune earlier as well, Mr. Rayburn.”
“Yes, cattle rustlers killed two of my men.”
“How tragic. Did they leave families behind?”
“No.” He smiled slightly to soften his words. “Most cowpunchers don’t have families, Miss Dubois. You must be new to the West.”
“Just to Brimstone. I’m a Harvey Girl. I’ve been in New Mexico for the past two years, but I admit I still have a great deal to learn about the West.”
“A Harvey Girl. No wonder I don’t recall seeing you before.”
Rose took a long look at Stephen Rayburn. He didn’t have Zach MacKenzie’s devastating handsomeness, but he wasn’t unpleasant-looking, either.
He appeared to be in his late thirties, with light hair and green eyes. His face was on the rugged side: aquiline nose, clean-shaven angular jaw, and a neatly trimmed mustache above narrow lips.
She stood almost eye to eye with him, which would make him just slightly taller than her own five feet eight inches, and he had a lithe, trim build which he carried with a sense of authority. Stephen Rayburn was clearly a man used to giving orders—not taking them. But his demeanor was gentlemanly. And she didn’t fail to notice that he was very well dressed—no dusty jeans or worn boots. His clothes looked tailor-made, his boots and Stetson expensive.
Rayburn must have sensed her interest, because he turned his green-eyed gaze on her. “And where are you from, Miss Dubois?”
“New Orleans.”
His smile flashed whitely against his deep tan. “A fabulous city. Whatever would tempt you to leave it for a town like Brimstone?”
“It must be my adventuresome spirit, Mr. Rayburn.”
“If you permit me saying, that makes for a very intriguing combination with that red hair and those lovely blue eyes of yours, Miss Dubo
is.”
Rose would have to be blind not to see the interest in his eyes. Could it be she had finally met her rich rancher? With her luck, he was probably married already. However, this was neither the time nor place to ask.
“Here we are,” she said lightly, having reached the boardinghouse. “Thank you again, Mr. Rayburn.”
“The pleasure was all mine, Miss Dubois.” He tipped his hat and walked away.
Her curiosity continued to dwell on him as she changed hurriedly into her uniform. But by the time she started to pin up her hair, she’d slipped back into thoughts of Zach MacKenzie and the look in his eyes as he’d watched her with Stephen Rayburn. What was behind that look? It couldn’t have been jealousy. Zach MacKenzie didn’t look like he’d have a jealous bone in his whole body—his whole manly body.
A train whistle reminded her of the need for haste. She pinned the bow to the back of her hair and hurried out the door. Hooting and puffing steam, the morning train had just rolled into town.
By the time Rose rushed through the kitchen door, the train’s passengers were already seated. Everett Billings gave her a disapproving glance.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Billings. I had an accident.”
“Apparently not a serious one, Miss Dubois, since you appear to be uninjured. We will discuss it later,” he said, and handed her the two plates he was about to carry into the dining room.
Kate had already filled the coffee cups at Rose’s tables and had served them compotes of fresh fruit. Rose gave her a grateful smile, put the plates of egg soufflé and chicken livers down in front of two of the customers, then hurried back to the kitchen for more.
Until the advent of the Harvey Houses, an unfortunate traveler had been subjected to a box lunch, bitter coffee, and such fare as salt pork and beans or a tasteless stew served on a tin plate at way stations. After paying for a meal in advance, he’d often had to rush back onto the train before even being served.
Fred Harvey had changed all that. Since opening his Harvey restaurants along the route of the Santa Fe, he’d made it the preferred railroad for travelers. Now for a mere seventy-five cents a meal, a passenger was offered fine cuisine served in the style of gracious dining.
Ana Leigh Page 3
