Rose (6 page)

She had locked the kitchen door below. She wasn’t sure whether she was keeping the men out or herself in, but she needed the security of knowing she was safe from rustlers.

Monty was sleeping out. It seemed one of the boys always spent the night somewhere in the brush. It was a little like standing watch. That made her feel better, but it also worried her. She had never feared attack, not even during the war. Now nothing but Monty stood between them and the dreaded Cortina. And Hen, who shot people when they tried to take their cows.

And George. Rose didn’t imagine that George liked shooting people, but she couldn’t see him allowing anybody to harm his family or take his property. And for the time being she was part of his family. Knowing that made her feel safer than she had felt since her father left for the war.

George felt strongly about his family—as far as Rose could discover, it was the only thing he did feel strongly about—but she didn’t see them showing a similar interest in him. They didn’t realize they had a corridor straight to his heart, that everything they did, everything they wanted, everything that hurt them affected George, sometimes more than it affected them. Jeff and Monty would soon forget their fight. They would have other fights. They wouldn’t remember any of them for very long.

But George would. He would agonize over ways to bind the family together while they mindlessly went on tearing it apart. It made her so mad she wanted to tell them that if they didn’t want to try for their own sakes, at least they could try for George’s.

But she didn’t have the right. She was an outsider. She would only make things worse.

She had already said too much. She shuddered when she thought of the things she had said to George about his own brothers. She was lucky he hadn’t fired her on the spot.

Rose got out of bed and walked over to the tiny window. She looked out over the countryside. There wasn’t much to see. An impenetrable wall of brush reaching miles in all directions ringed the house. Anything could be out there and she wouldn’t know.

A chill ran down her spine.

The moon flooded the land with an amazing amount of light. Odd. In town it always seemed so dark at night. She could see other buildings only by the light that shone from their windows. Now she could even see the leaves on the trees as they hung listlessly in the warm night air.

Everything seemed absolutely still, so peaceful and quiet, so far removed from all the things that used to threaten her.

The people in Austin didn’t seem frightening now. She wondered why she had been worried about the looks the women gave her when she walked down the street, the things they whispered behind her back, the things Luke and his friends might do.

None of it frightened her anymore. Unpleasant, irritating, but not frightening. Not as long as she was here. Not as long as she had George to protect her.

Even this past evening didn’t seem so bad anymore. These were strong, stubborn men doing a difficult job, trying to get used to other strong men, trying to curb their tempers and bend their wills for the good of all. That was bound to make things difficult from time to time, but it also was exciting to
watch. These were no weaklings bullying people weaker than themselves. These were no cheating, deceitful men turning against the loyalties and beliefs of a lifetime just to get on the right side of the Reconstruction officials.

Just good, strong men trying to sort out what was right for all of them.

She couldn’t imagine anything more rewarding than being part of a huge family that worked together for the good of all. She could do without the fighting, but she wouldn’t shy away from it. She was a fighter herself.

The three years following her father’s death had hammered every bit of softness out of her. The successive shocks of the Robinsons leaving for Oregon, her father’s death turning her into an outcast, and the bank failure making her a pauper would have crushed almost anyone else.

But even when things were most bleak, she had never given up hope that she would someday have a home and a family of her own.

And this was the kind of place she wanted.

You’re just the housekeeper,
she reminded herself.

Rose felt her excitement wane. How was it possible she could have become so involved with this family so quickly? It wasn’t like they had welcomed her. She didn’t feel the anger they felt any more than they seemed to have experienced the fear that stalked her.

They were fearless. Nothing and nobody daunted them. Maybe that’s why she liked them. Even Zac rushed to spend his day in that menacing brush without a moment of hesitation. It must be nice to feel that confident, that secure. She couldn’t remember what it was like to be completely without fear, to know with perfect certainty that tomorrow would come, and that it would be another beautiful day. These men didn’t realize what a blessing that was.

But she did, and she knew that if she had her way, she would never leave this place.

George decided he wouldn’t get up just yet. He needed some time to think. His dreams disturbed him.

George considered himself a very sensible person. He took pride in being able to look at life with a critical eye, and to make decisions without emotional foot-dragging. From time to time he had to make some unexpected adjustments to his plans for his life, but he had never let himself get derailed, never let himself lose sight of his objectives.

Until Rose.

Not that she had actually done anything. Except look as captivating as any woman he could ever remember, fight like a bantam when she felt slighted, and cook the best meal he’d ever tasted.

And start juices flowing which hadn’t stirred in his veins for five years.

Maybe that’s what caused the dream. He’d had plenty of dreams about women. Sometimes they were set off by the things men said around a campfire. Sometimes because his body was trying to remind him that Nature hadn’t intended him for a life of celibacy.

But he’d never had a dream quite like this one.

He’d been married. To Rose. He couldn’t tell where they lived—the house was a mixture of Ashburn, the Randolphs’ Virginia home, and several of the houses he’d been quartered in during the war—but he thought they lived in Virginia. Oddly, his brothers were their children. They squabbled, but the mood of the dream had been happy. He was content to be married to Rose, to look after his vast estate, and to raise a large family of boys.

That dream represented everything George feared most in the world.

That was what caused him to wake up before dawn, his heart beating double-time. It was what caused him to lie in bed searching his mind for an explanation.

Only Rose could account for it. He would have to be very careful that her seductive presence didn’t lure him into thinking
he wanted the very things he knew would end up making him miserable. He would never have thought he could be so weak-minded, even about a woman as attractive as Rose. He wouldn’t make much of a head of the family if he didn’t learn to be less impressionable.

The creaking door ended his self-examination.

“Time to get up,” Hen said, entering the room with a basin of hot water and a bucket of cold.

Tyler turned over. Zac didn’t move. Jeff sat up and swung his feet to the floor. Monty charged to his feet and headed for the door, apparently intending to go straight to the kitchen. Hen handed him the basin.

“What’s this for?” Monty demanded irritably.

“Miss Thornton sends it with her compliments. I take it to mean we’re to shave before we show up at the table.”

“I’ll be damned—”

“You probably will,” George interrupted, “if you don’t make some attempt to get your temper under control. Why don’t you try accommodating Miss Thornton rather than blowing up at everything she does?”

“Dammit, George, I thought you hired a housekeeper. That woman’s worse than a nanny.”

“Maybe you could use a nanny,” George said. “Have you taken a good look at yourself lately?”

Hen obliged by taking the mirror from its hook on the wall and holding it before Monty.

“Good God,” Monty exclaimed. “I’d scare a Spanish whore.”

“I been telling you that for years,” Hen said. “That’s why you can’t get any—”

Monty jumped his brother, and they went down in a tangle on the floor. George rescued the mirror.

“Tyler, since you and Zac don’t have to shave, you can get dressed and go help Miss Thornton.”

“I got a beard,” Tyler said. “I need to shave as much as you.”

George put out a hand to stop Jeff from uttering the words
on his lips. “Okay, it looks like Zac gets to help Rose. Tyler can share my basin.”

“I ain’t going in there by myself,” Zac declared.

“You make Monty and Hen stop fighting, and you can share my basin,” Jeff said.

Zac looked at the boys still wrestling on the floor. They were several times his size. Many more times his strength. Before George could stop him, Zac took the bucket of cold water and poured it over them.

Shouts of profanity reverberated throughout the room.

“Fetch some more water before you get torn apart,” George said, barely able to hold back his laughter. “And see if you can find another mirror. We can’t all be looking in one at the same time.”

“You put him up to that,” Monty accused Jeff.

“It’s not Jeff’s fault,” George said. “Zac will do anything to stay with us. More than anything, he wants to be treated like a man.”

“It’s an overrated state,” Monty said. “I’d be just as happy to be the one to help with the breakfast.”

“Do you think she’d have you?” George asked. “You gave her a right rough time last night.”

“I don’t think she minded it much.”

“Of course she did,” Jeff argued. “Females are delicate. They can’t stand things a man would hardly notice.”

“Not every female is quite so fragile,” George said, cutting off what he feared would be an ill-chosen reply from Monty. “I get the impression Miss Thornton is capable of taking care of herself.”

“There’s only one more mirror,” Zac announced as he came into the room and slammed the door on the dogs trying to follow. “It’s hers, and she said she ain’t giving it up.”

“Isn’t giving it up,” Jeff corrected.

“Rose don’t correct me, and she knows more than you,” Zac shot at his brother.

“What do you mean, she doesn’t correct you?” George asked.

Zac looked like he’d said too much. “She did it yesterday, after you left. I told her I didn’t like it, that Jeff did it all the time, and she promised she’d never do it again. And she hasn’t,” he said to Jeff. “I said some awful terrible things just to see if she’d break her word. But she never did.”

“I doubt Rose ever breaks her word,” George said, more to himself than his brothers. “She seems to be a woman of clear ideals and strong character.”

“All we wanted was someone to cook and clean,” Jeff said.

“I have a feeling one day you’ll be glad we got more,” George said.

“Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know. Just a feeling.”

“Stop jawing and get shaved,” Monty said. “I’m starved, and I’ll bet you ham to potatoes she won’t let a one of us inside the door unless we’re shaved close as a baby’s bottom.”

“And wearing a clean shirt,” Zac reminded them.

“We don’t have any clean shirts,” Hen pointed out.

“Wear the same one you wore last night,” George said. “It’ll have to do.”

“How about tonight and tomorrow night?” Hen asked.

“We’ll worry about that later.”

“You didn’t have to worry about shaving and clean shirts when I was doing the cooking,” Tyler said.

“We only had to worry about dying,” Monty said.

“We appreciate what you did,” George said, hoping Tyler believed he valued his effort, “but you have to admit Rose is a much better cook.”

“She looks better, too,” Monty added, relishing needling his younger brother.

“Outside, all of you,” George said. “I’m not putting off my breakfast so you can start a free-for-all.”

“Comb your hair, Zac,” Jeff said. “She won’t want you sitting down at the table looking like you were scared out of your wits by a bobcat.”

“I ain’t afraid of no bobcat.”

“No more fights,” George intervened. “I’m hungry.”

The six men spilled through the door to be brought up short by the sight of Rose building a fire under the wash pot.

“Before you sit down to the table, I want this pot filled with water. And I want everything except the clothes on your backs in it.”

“Dammit to hell!” Monty cursed.

“Can’t it wait until after breakfast?” George asked. He had been anticipating his breakfast almost as much as Monty, and to be ordered to fill the wash pot and search out every piece of clothing they owned before they could eat made him irritable.

“I thought about that,” Rose said, “but what’s to keep everybody here after they’ve eaten?”

“You could ask them.”

“I could,” Rose admitted, “but it’s easier to do it now.”

“Are you going to let her get away with this?” Monty demanded.

“Get away with what?” George asked, his temper short. “You voted to hire a housekeeper. The washing is part of her duties. If you want the job done, you’ve got to let her do it.”

“Then let her do it herself. I don’t mean to stop her.”

“You don’t mind her going through your things?”

It was obvious that thought hadn’t occurred to Monty.

“I don’t want anybody going through mine,” Hen stated.

“She can do anything she wants with my clothes,” Zac said. “I don’t even like to wear them.”

“Ain’t no woman touching anything that belongs to me,” Tyler declared.

“I’m sure she doesn’t want to,” Jeff said. “She probably intended to use a stick.”

“You boys collect the clothes,” George said. “Jeff and I will get the water.

“You mind digging out my stuff while I bring the water?” George asked Hen.

“Naw. I’ll give you a hand as soon as I’m done.”

“Aw, hell, I’ll help with the water,” Monty said.

“Jeff will do that,” George said, giving Monty a particularly penetrating look. “You just make sure Zac and Tyler don’t leave half their clothes buried under a floorboard somewhere.”

“You shouldn’t let her get away with this,” Jeff said as they walked toward the well.

“Get away with what?” George asked.

“Ordering us around like she was a general and we were the recruits.”

“I don’t suppose she will when she feels she can ask and get our cooperation,” George answered.

“You shouldn’t encourage her to give orders. You should do that.”

“Dammit, that’s what I hired her for,” George snapped, dropping his bucket in the well. When he heard it splash bottom, he started hauling it up. “I don’t want to have to worry about the cooking and cleaning and what needs doing next.”

“Okay, but she’s getting above herself.”

“If she does, we can fire her and hire someone else.” George handed the first bucket to Jeff and dropped the second in the well. The bucket splashed and he hauled it up. “This is our place, Jeff, and we decide what happens. But when you hire someone to do a job, you can’t crowd them too hard and expect them to be happy.”

“I’m not interested in whether she’s happy.”

“Then you’re making a big mistake.” George hefted his bucket out of the well. “Come on. The sooner we fill up the wash pot, the sooner we eat.”

“It’s going to take another couple of trips to fill up the pot,”
Monty said after they had emptied their buckets into the pot. He still stood where they’d left him, glaring at Rose.

“Then you’d better get a bucket and help.”

“You think she’s got breakfast ready, just keeping it warm, while she gets all this work out of us?” Monty asked as they walked back to the well together.

“Yes.”

“Damn. That’s what Hen said.”

“Don’t imagine you’d want to wait twenty more minutes, would you?” George asked.

“Hell, no, but having it just sitting there, waiting, while she keeps us hopping about like a bunch of Chinese coolies galls my butt.”

Rose watched as George and his brothers emptied the last buckets of water into the wash pot. Hen was helping Zac lay the fire so the heat would be distributed all the way around the pot. Tyler had taken to finding dirty clothes with a vengeance. He probably thought by finding more work for her, he could force her to go back to Austin.

Rose didn’t care. They were going about it with pretty good humor, much more than she expected. She knew she owed that to George.

She wondered what he thought of her. She had noticed the sharp, angry look he cast her way when she issued her command. He had supported her, but it was clear his devotion to his family was unchanged.

Rose loved to watch him with his brothers. It reminded her so much of the Robinsons.

She had lived with them until she was seventeen, long enough for their family to grow from three to eight children. They never had much money, but all they needed to be happy was to be gathered around Mr. Robinson, all talking, laughing, and competing for his attention.

“They crawl over him like puppies over a brood bitch,” Mrs. Robinson would say.

Rose used to think wistfully of the family she wanted when she grew up. Three boys and three girls. The boys first so they could help their father and the girls last so she could spoil them. She didn’t want them too far apart. They ought to have companions as they grew up. The loneliness of her childhood still hurt.

And of course they would all be strong-minded, each struggling with the others for his place in the sun, each depending on their father to be there to sort things out when they got too complicated.

And he would. Always. Because his family was more important to him than anything else in the world.

George would do that. Only when he was sorting out his brothers’ problems did he seem to forget his own demons. He didn’t know it, but his family might be his salvation.

Rose didn’t know how to tell him that. Even if she did, she doubted he would believe it.

She wondered if the boys had any idea how much they meant to him. Probably not. They all seemed to be too busy with their own anger. Only George could put his own interests aside to concentrate on those of someone else.

I wish he would concentrate on me.

She had tried to avoid letting that thought cross her mind. It was a waste of time. She was bound to this family by their mutual need. She mustn’t make the mistake of thinking she could remain here on any other basis.

But it hurt to know he was interested in her only as long as she worked for him.

If you can’t stand it, ask him to take you back to Austin. But before you do, remember that no matter how badly they behave, it’s not half as bad as Austin.

But she wanted more. She wondered if anyone would ever look at her with the love and concern she saw in George’s eyes when he looked at his brothers. She wondered if anyone would ever give up something they wanted, or even a little of it, for her.

Not in Texas. Not where she would always be that damned Yankee woman.

“You’re making a real nuisance of yourself, but you sure can cook,” Monty said, digging into his breakfast with such enthusiasm that George had to remind him of his manners.

“Then she shouldn’t cook so good,” Monty answered, his mouth full. “I never knew eating could be this much fun.”

“You eat like that every day, and your horse will soon refuse to carry you,” Jeff said.

“Hell, I’d walk all the way to the Rio Grande for food like this.”

“How about you, Hen?”

“It’s good, but I wouldn’t walk that far. I’d have blisters the size of possum eggs.”

“You know there ain’t no such thing as possum eggs,” Zac said.

“Of course I do, but maybe Rose doesn’t. I was planning to ask her for a possum egg omelet tomorrow, and now you ruined it.”

Zac laughed happily. “Even a town girl knows possums don’t lay eggs. Don’t you, Rose?”

“It’s Miss Thornton to you, young man,” George corrected.

“It will be easier if everyone calls me Rose,” Rose said. “And yes, I do know possums don’t lay eggs. Did you know a bear’s favorite food is pork?”

“You’re pulling my leg?”

“Am not,” Rose assured him. “You eat up your breakfast. If I have to throw it out, there’ll be bears here before supper-time.”

“I ain’t seen no bears.”

“You don’t want to see one that loves pork. They like to snack on little boys.”

“You
are
pulling my leg,” Zac complained.

“Just a little. But I’ll make a deal with you. You tell me when Hen’s about to pull my leg, and I won’t tell you any more tales.”

“Hen wouldn’t do that, but Monty would.”

“Then we’ll band together against Monty.”

“You keep on cooking like this, and you can do anything you like,” Monty said, popping the last bit of biscuit in his mouth and gulping down the last swallow of milk. He started to rise. “I’ll be back at seven hungry as a bear.”

“You forgot to ask to be excused,” Zac piped up.

“Cow dung,” Monty mumbled under his breath at his little brother as he sat back down. “May I be excused, ma’am?”

“Yes, and ‘Rose’ will do.”

“Guess I’d better go, too,” Hen said, getting to his feet. “I can’t let Monty have all those rustlers to himself.”

“I imagine the McClendons are too busy trying to feed their families to try stealing our cows,” Jeff said.

“Do you have any special requests for dinner?” Rose asked hurriedly when she saw both twins turn toward Jeff, murder in their eyes.

“Turkey,” said Monty. “I know where a whole flock of them roosts in some live oak trees down by the river.”

“You bring them home tonight and I promise you roast turkey tomorrow.”

“Hot damn, you might not be so bad after all.”

“See, we’re not so hard to get along with,” Hen said.

“Just as long as I keep you full of food.”

“You might want to start making a list of the supplies you’ll need,” George said to Rose. “Monty can’t be bringing home turkeys every night. I’ll send somebody into town next week. Jeff, I need to talk to you.” George turned back to Rose. “Zac and Tyler can stay and help with the washing.”

“I’m not toting water like a baby,” Tyler exploded. “I can do as much work as you can.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jeff said. “You’ve been doing the housework for years. What do you know about range riding?”

“More than you ever learned locked up in some Yankee prison,” Tyler shot back.

Jeff went dead white.

Monty and Hen quietly slipped out.

“I only need one person to help me,” Rose said. “Zac will be just fine.”

“Why is it always me?” Zac whined.

“Because we have to plan what trick we’re going to play on Hen for the possum eggs,” Rose said, “and we can’t do it with you gone all day. Besides, I don’t know anything about living in the country. There’s all kinds of things I’ve got to learn. I might even try to milk the bull.”

Zac treated that remark with the scorn it deserved.

“I won’t have to stay home every day, will I?” he asked George.

“Not every day.”

“All right. But I still don’t like it.”

“Tyler, you and Jeff get saddled up. I’ll be along as soon as I have a few words with Miss Thornton.”

“Can I saddle your horse?” Zac asked.

“You can’t—” Jeff began.

“Of course,” George said. “Just don’t saddle that bad-tempered paint. After yesterday, he’s probably just waiting to take a bite out of my leg.”

“Beat you to the corral,” Zac said and lit out the door running. Tyler followed close on his heels.

“You’d better keep an eye on them, Jeff.”

“Why? They won’t listen to a thing I say.”

“You watch real well. It’s just when you talk that you cause trouble,” George said.

“I know he doesn’t mean to,” Rose said after Jeff had gone, “but it’s almost as though he looks for the one thing that will hurt them the most.”

George’s frown caused her to bite her tongue. She would have to remember not to be so outspoken. It was bad enough she was always ordering them about, telling them what to do. Nobody liked to have his brother criticized by a near stranger, even if it was justified.

“You’re not comfortable around him, are you?”

“No, but not because of his arm. You like your brothers, even when you disapprove of them or are angry at them. Jeff doesn’t.”

She had done it again. Would she ever learn not to blurt out everything she thought?

“You’re wrong there. Jeff’s the one with the sense of family, not me. In fact, I wouldn’t have come home at all if it hadn’t been for him.

“What would you have done?”

“Joined the army to fight Indians.”

His words shocked Rose so much she could hardly respond.

“But that would mean joining the Union Army.” She could hardly believe he would have done that after four years in the Confederate Army.

“The
United States
Army,” George corrected. “I’ve always wanted an army career. I mean to rejoin as soon as I can leave here.”

“Won’t it be difficult to support a wife, especially raise a family, under those conditions?”

“I don’t mean to get married or have a family.”

He might as well have knocked the breath out of her with his fist. His every thought was bound up with his family. It seemed only natural he would want one of his own.

“It’s just that I thought…with so many brothers…you have taken on so many responsibilities…”

“That’s exactly the reason I don’t want a family,” George said. “I know the kind of burden we were to Ma and Pa. And what for? Seven sons who can’t get along with each other? It’s not something that appeals to me.”

“But why the army?” Rose asked, unable to absorb either his words or the shock of their meaning.

“It’s a job I’m good at. And it allows me the freedom to do what I want.”

“But won’t you miss the love and companionship a family gives you?”

“You haven’t been in the army, or you’d know that combat forges extraordinary friendships between men. You trust your life to a comrade because you know he would give his life for you. Those feelings are just as strong as any between a man and woman, yet they carry no suffocating ties. Wives and children hold onto you forever, drain you of your strength. They feed upon you like beasts upon prey. Other men don’t.”

Zac came running up with George’s horse.

“Did I do it right?” he asked, his eyes shining with excitement.

“Looks shipshape to me,” George said, ignoring a loose cinch and the near-certainty there was a crease in the saddlecloth.

“Hen bridled him, but I did the rest.”

“It’s obvious I’m going to have to give you your own horse.”