“You can begin by deciding on the route. Jeff’s just come back from Corpus Christi, and Ben comes from Brownsville. Between them they ought to be able to figure out the best route.”
“You sure about this?” Rose asked George as she listened to the brothers become embroiled in deciding on their route.
“I’m sure,” George replied, slipping his arm around her waist and dropping a kiss on her head. “It’ll be hard on them at first, but they’ll soon get the hang of it.”
“Are you certain?” she asked after a particularly loud outburst from Monty.
“They think they’re ready to knock each other down, but they’re not. There’s a good deal of affection in their bickering.”
“No matter what you do, don’t tell them that.”
George laughed. It had a ring of contentment to it. “I won’t. I’ll let them discover it for themselves. That’ll be even better.”
“I could go to Austin.”
“Even if I wasn’t worried about you, they need to do this alone. You ought to understand. You’re the one who told me to stop trying to do everything alone.”
“I know. I just wanted to be sure. I didn’t want you staying on my account.”
“I can’t think of any better reason for staying,” George said. “Not even Zac. And the bull runs a distant third.”
Rose decided that if George was going to talk like this, they could have a very satisfactory couple of months together.
Chapter Twenty
George entered the boys’ bedroom where Rose was getting their clothes ready for the trip to King’s ranch.
“What did you do with that colonel’s letter?”
The question caught Rose by surprise. She had thought they’d all decided to act as if it never existed.
“I put it away. It was making everybody moody and irritable.”
She could see George was agitated. She paused in folding a pair of Monty’s pants, hugging them to her chest.
“I don’t see why that letter upsets you so much. I know your father was hard on you, but can’t you be a little bit proud of what he did? He died a hero, George. That ought to be worth something.”
“It doesn’t change anything.” George avoided her gaze, as he always did when the subject of his father came up.
“Why not? I didn’t like it when my father decided to fight against the Confederacy, but I was still proud of him.”
“You don’t know anything about my father.”
She resumed her folding. “Then I guess it’s time you told me,” she said.
He raised his eyes to meet her gaze. “No.”
Rose finished folding the pants and slammed them onto the pile. “Your father has stood between us from the moment I met you. You can’t keep going around with this locked up inside. It’ll destroy you in the end.”
George didn’t respond. He just kept staring at her.
She brushed aside a lock of hair which refused to stay out of her face. “It’ll destroy our marriage.”
“I won’t let it.”
“You won’t be able to stop it. It bothers you more than Jeff’s arm bothers him. You just don’t think so because you don’t shout at people or go off and sulk for days at a time.”
“Talking won’t change anything.”
She picked up a plaid shirt and started to fold it. “You won’t know until you try. I love you, George. I want to feel that you love me just as much. But I can’t, not when you shut me out. It tears me up to have to sit here, helpless, while you die a little bit inside.”
“It’ll make you hate him, too.” He picked up a spur that Zac had left lying on the floor.
Rose could hear the pain in his voice. She hated to do anything that would cause him to hurt even more, but he had to come to terms with his father’s ghost or it would haunt him for the rest of his life.
“Your father can’t hurt me except through you.” She lifted another basket of clothes onto the bed and started to fold them. “Are you going to tell me, or do I have to ask one of your brothers?”
George sat down on his old bed. He spun the rowel of the spur with the end of his finger.
“You won’t understand anything about Pa if you don’t understand that I worshiped him. He was handsome, tall, athletic, smart, charming, popular, and rich. Nobody had a pa like him. I was proud of who I was because he was my pa. And, dammit to hell, I loved him.”
George threw the spur down, got up, and walked over to the window. Even with his back to her, Rose could see the convulsive movement of his throat muscles as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. She ached to go to him, to throw her arms around him, but she knew he had to do this alone.