Rose(45)

George could have kicked himself. He had known all along that Monty was only trying to annoy him, and he had let himself get angry just the same. He was acting as jealous as a spurned lover. Ever since Monty mentioned the possibility of Rose being in love with anybody else, he had been as sore as a bear with a bee sting on the end of his nose. He didn’t know why he had felt so angry and jealous, but he had. He had been ready to fight Monty.

Maybe it was time he figured out just what his interest was in Rose. Surely it wasn’t normal for a man to get this upset just because his brother said the housekeeper was pretty.

Not unless he was in love with her.

He wasn’t in love with Rose, but he obviously hadn’t been able to keep from developing feelings about her. Ever since he touched her cheek, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. He liked her. He liked her so much he wanted her to like him back. Clearly he’d passed the point of merely desiring her body.

But how could an honorable man say he had become this attached to a woman in little more than a week? He thought of his father’s numerous affairs. Did he want Rose only because somebody else wanted her? Would he lose interest as soon as he met a new, more attractive, and more exciting woman?

He had known many exciting and attractive women, but he’d never become emotionally attached to one before. Did it mean his interest in Rose was deep and true?

His father had fought a duel over a woman who bored him just six months later. Would he do the same?

George had never kidded himself. Every time he looked in the mirror he saw William Henry Randolph all over again. He saw the same appetites that had ruined his father’s life, the same aversion to responsibility that nearly destroyed his family as well. Whatever his feelings for Rose might seem to be now, no matter how hot the passion might flame, in the end it would fade just as it had with his father.

Knowing that, George couldn’t take a chance on falling in love. Even worse, he couldn’t allow Rose to fall in love with him. He must never do to any woman what his father had done to his mother.





“Rose said you beat up some man because of her.”

George was checking his guns in preparation for saddling up.

“He was hurting her.”

“I guess I looked pretty foolish in there, talking about men lining up wanting her.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings.”

“You never do, Monty,” George said, looking up. “But you never stop to think, either, before you blow up or say something just to get a rise out of people.”

“But she is pretty, and I do like her. She’d make someone a wonderful wife.”

“That’s all the more reason not to say anything. She’s got to feel it, being twenty years old and unmarried.”

“Why? What’s wrong with her?”

“You’ll have to ask her that.”

“I may be unfeeling and stupid, but I’m not that dumb.”

“I never thought you were,” George said, all the anger draining out of him. “I don’t think Pa meant to be, either, but you know what he was like.”

“Son-of-a-bitch!” Monty swore. “If you ever say I’m like that damned bastard, I’ll kill you.”

“We’re all like him,” George said. “And we can’t ever forget that.”

“You just say that because you know you aren’t.”

George laughed, a mocking, hollow laugh. “I’m exactly like him, and it scares me to death.”





Four days later Rose was surprised to see Tyler return alone with the wood and supplies. Jeff had decided to stay in town a few extra days to learn more about Richard King. Over the next two days all the boys took their turn plowing the garden. Since none of them knew how to manage a plow, and the mule didn’t seem to know any more than they did, the job took the better part of a day and the combined efforts of George, Monty, and Hen. Rose was certain this part of Texas hadn’t heard so much cussing since the Spaniards came through more than three hundred years earlier looking for gold.

The boys finally resorted to leading the mule with two of them struggling to hold the plow straight. It tossed them about like rag dolls.

Zac spent most of his time pitching clods at his older brothers and then trying to stay out of their reach. Tyler worked on the chicken coop.

Rose laughed until her sides hurt.

There were no straight rows when they finished. There were patches of untilled sod throughout the garden, but enough of the deep, rich soil had been turned for Rose to plant her vegetables.

“I want to plant the garden today,” Rose told George next morning. “Do you mind?”