Rose(76)

He spied Peaches McCloud across the street in front of Taylor’s Drygoods. Without looking right or left, without acknowledging the shouts from drivers and riders who had to jerk up their horses to keep from running over him, he plunged into the street and marched straight up to her.

“Ma’am,” he said, interrupting Peaches’s conversation with a matron of similarly imposing stature, “I’ve never laid a hand on a woman in my life, but if you say one more word against Miss Thornton, I’ll take a strap to you right here in the street.”

Peaches and her companion gaped at him as if he had taken leave of his senses.

“It’s absolutely none of your business what she does, but if it will help set this town’s mind at rest, you can present yourself at the hotel lobby at nine o’clock tonight. You’ll be able to see her become my wife.”

George turned on his heel, leaving his auditors, Salty included, speechless.





You’ve done it again. You’ve let this damned town’s attitude toward Rose stampede you into doing something you had absolutely no intention of doing.

George marched down the boardwalk to the Bon Ton. He had just wrecked every plan he’d ever made for his future. Dozens of unanswered questions buzzed in his mind. He had no idea what he was going to say to his brothers. Yet even as he cursed his foolish impulse, while he stared into the future with horror, even as the folly of what he had done made his knees feel weak, he felt exhilarated.

He felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. There was a buoyancy of spirit he had never experienced before, a sense of reckless abandon, of freedom from restrictions. Even though he had done something on the spur of the moment, without a single instant of thought, he was happier than he’d been in a long time.

But he had to find Rose quickly. “If she hears this from anyone else, she’ll never believe I mean it,” he said to Salty, who was practically running to keep up.

“That Peaches woman sure looked convinced.”

George delivered himself of a description he hoped would find its way back to Peaches. “Of course if Dottie had given her a job…” He charged into the Bon Ton, leaving the sentence unfinished.

Several men sat over their dinners, but Dottie was nowhere in sight.

George went through to the kitchen. The sight appalled him. He couldn’t imagine how Rose had managed to work here so long. Grease blackened the walls and every surface in the room. Including Dottie.

“I’m not giving her a job, so don’t come trying to make me,” Dottie said as she ebbed and flowed around the stacks of dirty plates.

“I wouldn’t let her work in this foul pit for as much as one hour,” George said. “Where is she?”

“Gone looking for a room.”

“Where?”

“The Widow Jenkins. To the left when you go out the front door. Down Walnut to the edge of town. It’s a log house sitting out on the prairie.”

George was spared asking strangers the whereabouts of one log house among dozens. He almost bumped into Rose coming around the corner.

“Come with me,” he said without explanation or warning.

“What’s wrong?” Rose asked. “Has something happened to one of the boys?”

All George would say was, “I’ll explain when we get to the hotel.”

Though she was suffering under the shock of being refused a job and a place to stay, Rose wasn’t too upset to notice the looks of passersby. George’s thunderous expression caused some to smirk, others to stare in naked curiosity. Refusing to give them the satisfaction of thinking she was in disgrace, Rose walked with all the assurance and the appearance of contentment she could muster.

She was glad to see George. Ironically, she felt he could solve everything.

No one spoke to George. His expression was so fierce even the hotel clerk swallowed his habitual cheery greeting.

Rose was confused when George followed her into her room. She was even more perplexed when Salty followed on his heels.

“I know this is going to sound a little strange, coming as it does at this particular time,” George began the moment the door was closed, “but I want you to marry me this evening at nine o’clock.”

Rose lost color. She reached for a chair and sank onto it.

“Do you know what you’re saying?” Her voice sounded calm, but she felt as if she were about to explode.

“Of course I do. I’m asking you to marry me.”

What was wrong with her! George had just said the most precious words in the world to her, and she could only collapse into a chair with her mouth open. But this didn’t feel right. Now that some of his anger had subsided, George looked stiff. He sounded as if he were reciting words he had memorized. Even Salty looked stuffed, as though he were being held up by a bamboo pole down his pants.