by Natalie Dean
“I want you to know, Rose that I intend on giving you the very best life possible. I’m no stranger to work, and although it would be impossible for either of us to replace our dearly departed, I think we can find a peaceful calm to our cohabitation. Perhaps someday we can even form a love for one another. That is my sincere hope.”
“Yes, perhaps,” Rose absently replied. Her mind was still stuck on ‘dearly departed.' She was positive Cyrus’s first Mary was dear, and she was departed, but she couldn’t offer the same sentiment for Virgil Jenkins. Cyrus need know nothing about it. Not yet.
“You seem…not happy,” he finished with a frown.
“I’m not happy, but I’m not sad. I’m trying to process what has just happened.”
“I see. Yes, it is a strange situation, but I feel we will both benefit in the end.”
“Why didn’t you continue with the missionary work?”
“That’s a hard thing to answer. Once Mary died, I began to question my purpose. I felt like God was leading me down a new path. I began to greatly miss the farm work of my youth.” He turned his head to look at her profile. “I think God intended me to be here.”
“Why were you looking in Matrimonial News?”
Cyrus laughed lightly. “I am but a man. It is not good for a man to be alone. God made that clear when he formed Eve for Adam.”
Rose could understand. She had spent many a tearful night not missing Virgil per say, but rather just the company of another human being. Those were long cold nights even in the heat of summer.
“I will do the best I can for you too, Cyrus, but please understand that my priority is the ranch. I won’t be stuck inside cooking and cleaning all day.”
“No, but maybe you will have a little more time for womanly pursuits now that I’m here.”
“Maybe.”
“Tell me about yourself. Tell me about your childhood,” Cyrus said as he looked over at her.
“Nothing to tell, really. I grew up in Richmond, Virginia to Christian parents. My father is a banker. I came here when I was eighteen.”
“How did you manage that?”
Rose’s face hardened. “My parents sent me. I was a mail order bride.”
“You didn’t want to be?”
“No, but I had no choice. My mother informed me that I wasn’t pretty enough to find a husband on my own.”
“That’s a terrible thing for a mother to say!”
“I expect she was right. It still stung to hear it though.”
“You’re a nice-looking woman, Rose.”
I don’t want to be nice looking. I want what every woman wants: to be beautiful.
Cyrus continued as if he had read her mind. “Physical beauty fades. True beauty comes from within.”
“But it makes it easier to live with a person who has physical beauty.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Was your wife beautiful?”
“To me, yes. I don’t know what the rest of the world saw when they looked at her, and it’s of no concern. I once heard someone say that she had small eyes. I thought her eyes were pretty. You have large eyes, and I think that’s an amazing thing.”
“Why?”
He laughed again. “I don’t know. I just think it is.”
Rose contemplated his words. He was self-assured and seemed confident that there was good things and beauty all around. It was an odd way of thinking. Rose knew it was naivety on his part. The world just wasn’t the amazing place he thought it was. There was more heartache than anything else.
“What did your father do?” she asked.
“He was a minister,” Cyrus replied proudly.
And that explains it.
“Why did you and Mary not have children?” She didn’t care that her questions seemed like badgering. They had but an hour to get to know one another.
“I think the Lord spared an innocent child that kind of grief. I really don’t know why. Why did you and your husband not have any?”
Rose turned her head. “I suppose for the same reason.” For many reasons. Too many to count.
They lapsed into a comfortable silence until Rose caught sight of her home. She was struck suddenly by her new duties which she hadn’t considered up until that point. Would Cyrus want to consummate the vows as soon as they were in the house? Would he wait until after dinner? Would he want to at all?
Cyrus parked the wagon in front of the house and hurried down. He circled around and held out his hand to Rose as she was rising from the bench seat.
“Please, let me help you down.”
Rose hesitated before giving him her hand. What was he up to? Why was he so intent on being nice? Seeds of doubt entered her mind and took hold.
“I’ve been getting in and out of my wagon all alone for quite some time now.”
“Yes, but I’m here now.” He helped her down and smiled. “Should I carry you over the threshold?”
“That will not be necessary.” She ignored the how the expression on his face seemed to fall. “I need to get back to my work.”
“Do you attend church in town on Sunday’s?”
Rose glanced over her shoulder before mounting the steps to the house.
“I don’t attend church.”
His face clouded and she was positive there was anger brewing.
Now we will begin to see the true colors of the God fearing Cyrus James.
“I would like for us to attend church as often as possible, but if we cannot, then we can enjoy devotions together right here.” He moved to the wagon to get his suitcase from the back.
Rose went in and laid the parcel Ruddy had given her on the table and went up to her room to change into her usual work clothes. The adjustment to her new life would be hard. She silently vowed to remain on her guard with her new spouse. She wouldn’t allow herself to be caught off guard a second time.
Chapter 5
May bled into June and Rose, though still wary, was beginning to see the benefit of her decision. The workload had become manageable, and she found that she did have more time to cook and mend. Cyrus hadn’t forced himself upon her, choosing to occupy the floor of their marital room. Out of a sense of duty, Rose had offered one side of her bed after three mornings of watching him rise stiffly. She couldn’t allow any hindrance on her part to the chores of each day getting accomplished.
“I think we will see a fine crop from the apple trees,” Cyrus said as he ate a breakfast of eggs and day old bread.
“Yes, and it will be beneficial to us, as we can sell some in town. Not everyone here has apple trees.”
Cyrus paused with a piece of bread in one hand and a fork full of egg in the other.
“You keep your mind on material gain quite often.”
“I keep my mind on survival, Cyrus.”
He nodded his understanding, but there was a decided sadness for his new wife. She had a bitterness that lodged itself in all conversation and action. He had been with her for three weeks, and she had not offered one warm touch, and she barely looked at him without her face hardening. He wanted to know what had happened to make her that way but still felt it was too soon to ask.
“Corn is growing nicely too.”
“Have you checked on the cow that’s heavy with calf? She lost her last one, and I don’t want that to happen again.”
“Yes, I brought her in and placed her in a stall. I’ll keep a watchful eye on her throughout the day. She’s restless.”
“That’s a good sign. She should give birth soon.” Rose took her plate to the sink and waited for Cyrus to finish so she could clean up before going out to the fields. “I do hope it’s a bull.”
“I was thinking, Rose. There isn’t much to be done in the fields today. You could spend the day here in the house, maybe check on the cow too.”
“There’s always work in the fields.”
“True,” he began slowly “but, today there isn’t as much. We’ve been diligent in our war against the weeds.” He of
fered her a smile. “You could catch up on things in here. Have a day that’s not as hard.”
Rose twisted her mouth. The retort in her mind was acrid, but she guarded the doors of her lips carefully. He wouldn’t care for a smart response.
“I do have some mending and washing I need to get caught up on.”
He grinned broadly and brought her his plate himself. “See, it’s a good idea.”
“Yes, perhaps.”
Cyrus sighed lightly and mumbled a thank you for breakfast. It was a gesture that Rose still hadn’t wrapped her mind around. Cyrus James thanked her for everything. He thanked her for dinner, for breakfast, for mending a tear, for opening her eyes in the morning. It was an exhausting ritual, but she had noticed that she was the only one worn out by it.
* * *
Cyrus looked up from the rows of growing corn and threw his hand up as Ruddy Seawell drove his wagon onto the property.
“Mr. Seawell! How are you?” Cyrus smacked dirt from his hands and offered one to Ruddy.
“I’m getting along.”
“What brings you out here?”
His lips thinned, and he ran a hand over his thinning hair. “I have a letter for Rose. She doesn’t get many from back home, and I thought I should bring it out to her.”
“Of course. I offered for her to spend most of her day doing womanly things in the house.”
“That’s what she needs to be doing more of. How has she been?”
“Oh…we’re adjusting.” Cyrus’s smile slipped, but he returned it to its proper place, albeit not before Ruddy’s keen eye noticed.
“Be patient with her. Rose…”
“Ruddy!” Rose called and waved to him from the porch. It was a shock to see her in a dress of pale pink with cream flocking. Her smile was wide and a shock for both men. Rose smiling was a lovely thing, but rare.
“Well, I’ll be,” Ruddy breathed.
“I agree,” Cyrus said and stared dumfounded at his wife. It wasn’t as fine a dress as the one she had worn to town the day they were married, but it was simple and just right, the color perfect for her skin and dark eyes. Rose had braided her hair and it hung in a single braid down her back. She reminded Cyrus of his mother’s pink spring roses that had dominated their front steps. They had been the hardiest of all her blossoms.
“How are you?” Rose smiled and offered Ruddy a light hug.
“Oh, getting along fine. A letter came for you, and I didn’t know when you would be back to town, so I decided it best to bring it to you.”
“That’s very kind.” Rose took the envelope and smiled. “It’s from home.”
“Yes.”
Rose opened the envelope and began scanning the words on the single sheet of paper that had been folded inside. The low voices of the men talking faded and she could feel her heart racing.
“Rose? Are you alright?” Cyrus’s voice reached out to her. “You look pale.”
Rose reached for him and grasped his hand firmly, not trusting her own legs at the moment.
“Please, tell me what’s wrong.”
“My father…my father died nearly a month ago.”
Ruddy glanced at Cyrus. He hoped the younger man would know how to handle an occurrence of this magnitude in his new wife’s life. Women were prone sometimes to hysterics.
“I am so very sorry,” Cyrus said. “Come, let me help you to the house.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and began leading her to the house, calling over his shoulder to Ruddy. “Please, Mr. Seawell, stay and have a refreshment. I’m sure I can whip up something.”
Rose sat listlessly at the kitchen table and watched as Cyrus fixed them all coffee. Ruddy patted her hand, his eyes imploring.
“Had you heard from them recently?”
Rose shook her head, wondering where her tears were.
“I wrote to them to tell them of my intentions.” She cast a glance to Cyrus’s back. “To find a suitable companion here. This is the first response I have heard. Mother wants to come and visit. At least that was her vague intention.”
“That’s a wonderful idea!” Cyrus chimed in. “We can help her in her time of grief.”
You don’t know my mother.
“Did she say for certain that she is coming?” Ruddy asked gently.
“No. I expect she’ll just show up one day and you will have to send for me, or bring her out here.” She chuckled, and it sounded dry and brittle. “I have a sister, but she lives in Baltimore with her husband. I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t want to go to her.”
“When was the last time you saw your parents, Rose?”
“When they put me on that train ten year ago.”
“What?” Cyrus sputtered. “Why so long?”
Rose shrugged helplessly. “A trip from here to Richmond Virginia would have been costly in finances as well as time. There just wasn’t provision for it. We wrote a few times a year, and I usually hear from my sister during the holidays.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ruddy said and patted her hand again.
“I am having a hard time recalling my father’s face.”
Neither man knew what to say to that.
Once the coffee was finished, Cyrus poured it into cups and offered Ruddy the sugar bowl. Cyrus frowned as Rose looked towards the window and didn’t lift a finger to partake in her drink. She seemed to always be drawn to the land and her work. It seemed the only solace she had in the world. Cyrus would have been a liar if he had said it didn’t bother him. He was growing fond of Rose, even amidst her quiet and often cold peculiar ways. He wished he could bring her some sort of enjoyment. What he truly wished was that she would reach out to her Savior and rely on him. Cyrus hoped his kindness and behavior would convince her to do just that.
“We have the extra room if your mother did come.”
“Yes. I would need to find a bed.”
“I think I can help with that, Rose. My Emma was married last year, you know, and her bed is just sitting in her old room vacant. I can bring it to you.”
“That’s kind, Ruddy, but I would want to pay for it.”
“There’s no need.” He smiled and winked. “I tell you what, if you give me a bushel of your sweet apples, and oh say, a mite of the apple butter you make, we can call it even.”
Rose returned his smile. Ruddy was a kind and generous man.
“I think we could work that out. Still doesn’t seem fair though.”
“Oh, it is. Laura won’t ever admit to it, but she knows your apple butter is the best around.”
* * *
Cyrus wanted desperately to comfort his wife. She had been quieter than usual throughout the rest of the day and into the evening. Dinner was held in absolute silence. He knew she needed the basic warmth of human touch, but so far she hadn’t even hinted that she desired that from him. It would be a topic that they would have to breach. They were husband and wife after all.
Cyrus waited in their bed, his nightshirt freshly laundered and pressed with the smell of the warm afternoon sun still clinging to the fabric. Rose was an attentive and good wife. He had chosen well. God had chosen well.
Rose entered the room from the extra room where she went every night to change. Her modesty with him was both endearing and frustrating. For his part, there wasn’t a deep love developed yet, but his growing fondness for his wife gave him great hope that someday soon there would be.
Rose looked at Cyrus with a drawn brow. He didn’t normally just sit up and wait for her. Bible devotions were reserved for after dinner. She had no idea what he could possibly be doing.
“Did you need something, Cyrus?”
“No.”
“Are you not tired?”
“I am tired.”
Rose stared at him for another moment before climbing into bed beside him. She mimicked his posture, and sat upright with her hands folded in her lap.
The candle flickered as Cyrus leaned towards her and gently wrapped his arms around her in an awkward gesture.
/>
“What are you doing?”
“I’m sorry you have lost your father.”
Rose touched the side of his arm as he pulled away.
“Thank you.”
“I wanted you to know that I’m here for you.”
Rose worked her mouth and narrowed her eyes. She wouldn’t allow herself to feel something for this man. To do so would be dangerous. Foolish. She had fallen into that trap already. Yet, here she was staring into his deep hazel eyes, the scent of his skin mingling with the fresh laundering of his nightshirt, and she was being swept up in a silly school girl’s fantasy. Things were never as they seemed. Men always had a motive for their kindness. With the exception of Ruddy. Ruddy was one in a million.
“You look as if you don’t trust me.”
Rose declined to comment and toyed with the quilt that covered both of their legs.
“What happened to you?” Cyrus breathed and touched a loose strand of hair that had come loose from her braid. “Was your husband unkind?”
Rose sighed. He would find out eventually anyway. He might as well know firsthand that she was damaged, damaged to a point that his heart could never be fully reciprocated should he offer it to her.
“He was more than unkind. He was cruel.” Her words snaked out and sounded foreign to her ears. Like a stranger was speaking them.
“Will you talk to me about it?”
Rose wouldn’t look at Cyrus. To look at him would bring the tears. It would bring the self-pity. Especially if she saw pity in his eyes as he looked at her. She didn’t want that.
“There’s nothing to tell. He was a hard man to please and because of my failures he was liberal with his belt, or his hand, or a wooden spoon, or anything else he could get his hands on.”
“Rose…”
“Would you please snuff the candle?” She scooted down under the covers and laid on her side, her back to Cyrus.
Cyrus hesitated before blowing out the candle. He laid on his side too and stared at the outline of her body for a long time before sleep finally won him over.
Chapter 6
Agnes Birch stepped from the stagecoach and could literally feel the dust and grime of her travels all over her face and clothing. Thankfully she had worn her wide hoop and the disgusting gentleman sharing the coach was forced to sit on the opposite seat. He most likely would have anyway, but a woman traveling alone could take nothing for granted.
