She wanted him to be as miserably unhappy as she was.
During the following week it became clear that Jeff’s anger was affecting the mood of the whole family. Monty turned almost savage; Hen grew morose; Tyler might as well have taken himself out of the family.
Rose’s heart went out to Zac. The child knew that something was wrong, but he didn’t know what. He looked to his two anchors, George and Rose, for reassurance. It was an assurance Rose couldn’t give. It was an assurance George didn’t give.
That was why Rose decided to go back to Austin.
It really was a simple decision. There was no future for her at the ranch. George had made that plain from the first. His attitude during the past week reinforced it. She was young and pretty enough to cause desire to occasionally overcome his restraint, but she wanted more than naked passion. She wanted love and a family; she would get neither from George.
Besides, her presence was tearing the family apart. All the ease and comfort had disappeared. Only tension, anger, and bitterness remained. It didn’t matter that it was unfair, that no one wanted it.
It just happened.
She couldn’t stand to see what it was doing to George. It didn’t matter that Jeff was responsible. Jeff was part of the family. She wasn’t.
She never would be.
So she decided to leave. She wouldn’t tell George. She didn’t think she could.
“If you’re going to Austin anytime soon, I’d like to go with you,” she said to George next morning at breakfast.
She had trouble actually saying the words. They seemed too final. They meant giving up any hope that George would come to love her. She didn’t kid herself into thinking her absence would achieve what her presence hadn’t.
She knew she loved him. Despite her vows to not marry a soldier, she loved him.
She didn’t want to. It was a waste of good, honest emotion, but her heart hadn’t consulted her brain, nor taken advice when it had been offered. It had settled on George and wouldn’t have anybody else. She didn’t expect it ever would.
“Are we running out of anything?” George asked.
“No.”
“It hasn’t been three months yet.”
“There are some things I need, things I can’t very well ask anyone else to purchase for me.”
“Very well. We’ll go tomorrow.”
He knew. She could tell. After one penetrating look, he knew.
“I’ll ask Salty to come along. He offered to find us some hands. I think it’s time.”
“Hands for what?” Jeff asked.
“We can’t round up and brand a couple hundred crazy wild steers without help. It would wear us down before we even started for Missouri.”
“Are you sure we should take them to St. Louis?” Jeff asked. “We only have her word there’s any market.”
“It’s already been decided,” George said. “We can get nearly ten times the price.”
“But how do you know she—”
“We’re taking them to St. Louis,” Monty snapped. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to come. As a matter of fact, I wish you wouldn’t. It’d be a damned relief not to have to look at your sour face.”
“I need a volunteer to do the cooking while we’re away,” George said, trying to divert Monty’s anger. “Tyler?”
“I ain’t cooking nothing for this lot, not after what they all said.”
“Let Jeff do it,” Hen said. “He’s the reason she’s leaving.”
“You know I can’t handle the cooking,” Jeff said angrily. “And what do you mean I’m the reason Rose is leaving?”
“You don’t think she means to come back, do you?” Hen demanded, anger making his eyes agate hard. “Not after you’ve been a bastard to everybody, acting like we’re responsible for that damn stump of yours.”
“Hen, that’s enough,” George said.
“The hell it is,” Monty exploded. His twin’s outburst blew the lid off his own smoldering resentment. “It’s about time somebody told him what a pain it is to live with him, lashing out at everybody all the time, thinking he’s better than the rest of us because he’s got a little education, thinking the rest of us ought to crawl on our bellies to him for the rest of our lives because he lost a goddamned arm. It’s a damned shame that bullet didn’t take off his head. Then he could have been a real martyr, not just a penny-ante imitation.”
Rose thrust back her chair, jumped to her feet, and fled from the room. She couldn’t stand to hear another word, see another face twisted by anger, feel another hot wave of rage. Especially not when it was her fault.