Rose(74)

“We had a jim-dandy briar patch back home, but it was nothing compared to this stuff,” Salty said, indicating a towering thicket that stretched for miles. “Can’t understand how your cows get in and out with those horns. Ma had an old milk cow once with horns no longer than a pig’s tail. Got tangled up in a wisteria vine and broke her neck. Shame, too. We never did get another cow that gave as much cream.”

George wasn’t interested in Salty’s wisteria vine or his cow. He was aware of only two things: Rose’s nearness and a dawning awareness that his resolve to remain a bachelor wasn’t nearly as firm as he had thought.

Rose had never looked lovelier, or more desirable. He didn’t know whether it was because he knew she was leaving or because her dress clung to her body with revealing intimacy. A row of buttons running up to Rose’s neckline preserved her modesty, but her bosom was outlined as never before. Her stiff posture only accentuated its thrust.

The temptation to reach out and cover her breasts with his palms was almost too strong to be withstood. George hated to be such a slave to his lust, but there was nothing he could do about it when Rose sat just a few tantalizing inches away.

She might as well have been a thousand miles away. He could feel the tension between them. He knew she was reluctant to talk about what was on her mind. And he didn’t encourage her to break her silence. She had said too much last night.

But he hadn’t said enough.

He had told her of his admiration, of his liking, but he hadn’t told her of the pain her leaving would cause.

He couldn’t because he hadn’t known until this morning. Until the moment she had come out of the house carrying her bags he hadn’t truly suspected its magnitude. He hadn’t expected to like her leaving, but neither had he expected to feel like getting down on his knees and begging her to stay.

She was probably right in feeling he would never be happy or contented if he didn’t marry, but he had no choice, so it wouldn’t help either of them to know they wanted the same thing and couldn’t have it. Far better to separate quickly. The pain would be easier that way.

And there was pain. Anger, too. A surprising amount. He should have become used to it by now. It seemed his entire life had been a series of promises made but never kept.

But it hurt most of all to know she would leave believing he felt nothing for her beyond lust. That would make him no better than Luke Kearney in her eyes. He couldn’t stand it if she despised him, too.

Maybe it would have been better if he had told her why he couldn’t marry, why he didn’t want a family. Last night didn’t seem to be the right time. Neither did now. Since she had decided she must go back to Austin, it seemed unfair to undermine her resolve.

And he knew she had to go.

He had lain awake all night looking for another solution, but there wasn’t one. They would hire another housekeeper, one with no connection to the union   Army.

The army. Odd. Coming home from Virginia he’d spent weeks going over the territorial forts in his mind, trying to decide which ones offered him the best chances for advancement. When he’d asked about Texas, he never asked about cattle or ranches. He asked about the Indian wars, the forts, and the men who commanded them. Even after he’d reached home and realized it would be some time before he would be free to leave, he worried that the longer he waited, the harder it would be to build a career.

Now he realized he hadn’t thought of the army in weeks. He had spent all his time thinking about the roundup and setting up a breeding program for the herd. He was even planning to build new corrals, a shed, a barn for the bull, maybe enlarge the house.

He had thought of Rose.

And he had been happy.

Happier than he could ever remember. Could it be that Rose was right, that he was merely running away from something he was afraid to face?

No. The evidence was beyond question.

He could never marry.





Located on the north bank of the Colorado River, Austin had been chosen as the capital of Texas in 1839. Edwin Waller laid out the town in a square with all the streets running at right angles. The streets running east and west were named after Texas trees such as Live Oak, Cypress, Pecan, Mulberry, Mesquite, and Bois d’Arc. Those running north and south were named after rivers. Congress Avenue, the street running through the middle of town, was the only exception. A Capital Square had been laid out, but the public buildings went up along the southern part of Congress Avenue. The armory, barracks, warehouses, barns, and corrals were across Waller Creek near the southeast corner of town.

The heat of summer had turned the streets into dust bowls. It had also driven the inhabitants indoors.