For the Roses (12 page)

"No, of course not," he agreed. "You became a family a long time ago, didn't you?"

"Yes," she replied. "How did you guess?"

"You act like siblings. You're protective and loyal to each other, yet argue over minor, inconsequential things. The way you treated each other during supper told me you've all been together a long, long time."

"We have," she agreed. "Isn't it beautiful out here?" He didn't want to talk about how pretty it was. She was deliberately changing the subject, however. He decided to let her have her way. There had been enough questions for one evening. He'd find out more tomorrow.

"Yes, it is beautiful. The air clears the mind."

"If that is all you noticed, you've been living in the city too long." He was in full agreement. "You can't always see the stars in London. The air is filled with dirt and fumes. It clouds the view."

"It's very like that in New York City," she remarked.

He missed a step. His heart felt as though it had just stopped beating. "What did you say?" She repeated her comment. "You seem surprised," she said.

He guessed he hadn't done a very good job of masking his reaction. He forced a smile. "I was surprised," he remarked in what he hoped was a casual tone of voice. "I didn't realize you'd ever been in New York City."

"I was just a baby, so of course I don't remember what the city looked like, but my brothers remember. They told me it was very crowded with factories and smoke and hordes of people milling about." Harrison took a deep breath. The puzzle was coming together. He still needed to find out who had taken her from her parents and who had helped the boys get all the way to Montana Territory.

"Only parts of New York City are crowded," he said. "It's actually a very interesting place."

"You have to be careful there, don't you?"

"You should be careful everywhere."

"You're sounding like Adam again. He's always telling me to be careful. I sometimes don't pay attention to my surroundings," she admitted. "Travis was amazed I didn't get robbed in St. Louis while I was at school. It's safe here though, on the ranch. I never want to leave again. I become terribly homesick." He didn't want to hear that. "You might like England and Scotland," he suggested.

"Oh, I'm sure I would. I know there are beautiful places I've yet to see. I would miss my valley though. There's so much to do and see here and never enough hours in one day. I'm constantly finding out new and interesting things. Do you know I just heard about a woman living all alone up on Boar Ridge. Her family had just gotten settled in when they were attacked by Indians. Her husband and son were killed. She was scalped, and left for dead. But she survived. Travis told me he heard Billie and Dooley whispering about her. Everyone thinks she's crazy. The poor woman has been all alone for years and years, and I only just heard about her. I'm going to go and see her, as soon as I can get Adam to agree."

"If she's crazy, she might be dangerous, Mary Rose. You shouldn't…"

"You're sounding just like Adam again," she interrupted. "Now that I know about the woman, I have to try to help her. Surely you understand."

Harrison turned the topic just a little. "I could be content living in your valley. I think perhaps you could be content living in Scotland or England, once you made the adjustment."

"Why? Because it would remind me of home? Isn't that very like loving one man because he reminds me of another? I would appreciate Scotland, Harrison, but I don't believe I would ever become content.

Home really is best."

He let out a sigh. "You're too young to be so resistant to change."

"May I ask you a personal question? You don't have to answer if you don't wish to."

"Certainly," he agreed. "What is it you want to know?"

"Have you kissed very many women?"

The question caught him off guard. "What did you just ask?" She asked again. He didn't laugh because she looked so damned sincere.

"What made you think about kissing?"

She wasn't about to tell him the truth. Every single time she looked at him, she thought about kissing. From the moment she'd witnessed how kind and gentle he'd been with his temperamental stallion, she'd thought about little else. She wanted him to kiss her, and even though she knew that what she wanted was quite brazen, she didn't care.

"I was just curious. Have you?"

"I guess I have."

"Do you think about kissing someone first, then you kiss her, or is it all more spontaneous?"

"You think about the strangest things."

"Yes, I do."

They reached the entrance to the bunkhouse. He put his hand on the doorknob and turned to look at her.

"Do you remember what I told you earlier in the day when we were looking down at your valley? React first with the mind, then with the heart. There's your answer. I always think before I act." She looked disappointed. "You're a very disciplined man, aren't you?"

"I like to think I am."

She shook her head. He didn't know what to make of her obvious disapproval. Being disciplined was an asset, not a liability. Didn't she understand that basic principle?

"I'm not so disciplined."

He nodded. He had already come to the same conclusion. He opened the door and backed up a space so she could go inside first if she was so inclined.

She didn't move from the doorstep. "There are twelve beds inside, but you'll be all alone tonight. If you need anything, please let one of us know."

"Where does Douglas want MacHugh bedded down?"

"Put him in the first stall on the left," she answered. "There's more room. I imagine his feed is waiting for him. Do you think he'll be more agreeable to going inside now that he's had time to get used to us?"

"Yes."

"What about you, Harrison? Are you getting used to us?"

Her question made him smile. "Yes, I am."

She smiled up at him. God, she was pretty.

"May I ask a favor of you?"

She was standing just a foot away from him, with her face turned up toward his, and, Lord, her eyes had turned into the color of sapphires in the moonlight. He didn't dare look at her mouth. He knew he'd forget his control if he did, for even now he was thinking about what she was going to feel like pressed up tight against him. The urge to taste her was making him rigid. Her softness and her warmth beckoned him to lean down and take what she wasn't even offering.

He was out of his mind. "What favor do you ask?"

His voice sounded brittle to him. She didn't seem to notice. She obviously didn't realize the effect she was having on him either, or she wouldn't have leaned up on her tiptoes so she could get closer. She smelled wonderful. Like wildflowers after the rain. She rested the palms of her hands against his chest. His heart began to hammer a wild beat inside.

"Will you think about kissing me?"

He hadn't thought about anything else.

"Hell, no, I won't think about kissing you."

His rejection stung. She thought he acted as though she'd just asked him to think about kissing a goat. She was immediately embarrassed by her boldness. Her hands fell to her sides. She had made a complete fool of herself, but she was going to have to wait until later to die of mortification. Now the only important issue was trying to maintain a little dignity.

It took work on her part. And, Lord, it was a terrible strain. She wanted to pick up her skirts and run like lightning back to the house, but she wasn't about to act like a child. She stood her ground and forced herself to look up at him again, just the way a fully grown-up woman would.

"I couldn't help but notice how appalled you sounded. Was the idea atrocious to you?"

"I wasn't appalled. Men don't become appalled."

He sounded angry now. She didn't ask him if he was, though, because she supposed he would only tell her men didn't ever get angry either.

"Good night, Harrison. Sleep well."

She wasn't jesting with him. The crazy woman didn't have a clue what she had just done to him. Sleep was out of the question.

He leaned against the doorframe and watched her walk back to the house. She acted as if she didn't have a care in the world. She had just turned his mind into mush and his stomach into knots, and, damn it all, he wouldn't have been surprised if she'd started in humming.

He wondered how blase she would be if he told her what he really wanted to do to her, and what he wanted her to do to him with her sweet, provocative mouth.

He could stop himself from wanting to take her to his bed. He reminded himself he was a man, not an animal, and he could certainly control his primitive urges. He had almost convinced himself too, but then he happened to notice the gentle sway of her hips when she walked, and his imagination immediately filled his mind with all sorts of carnal images.

Sleep well? Not bloody likely.

August 4, 1862

Dear Mama Rose,

We had a terrible scare last week. Mary Rose got real sick. We should have known she wasn't feeling good earlier in the day, but none of us even considered that sickness could be the culprit for her unusual foul mood. She always acts real cheerful, but Tuesday last, she started out behaving like a hellion. She got worse by afternoon. Douglas had washed her favorite blanket, the one she likes to hold up against her nose while she sucks on her thumb, and when she spotted it drying on the bushes, she threw a tantrum none of us will ever forget. Our ears are still ringing from her piercing screams. She missed her nap altogether and wore herself out crying. She wouldn't even let Adam comfort her, and she wouldn't eat a bite of her supper. Since she usually has a good appetite, we finally realized something was wrong. By midnight, she was burning up with fever.

We all took turns sitting with her and sponging her off, and when we weren't holding her hand or rocking her in the chair, we were running into each other while we paced.

The fever lasted three days and nights. She looked so little and helpless in her bed. She needed a doctor, but there weren't any to be had, not even in Hammond.

I don't believe I've ever been so afraid in all my life. Cole was frightened too, but he hid it behind his anger. He went on and on about how wrong we had been to bring a baby into the wilderness. He was wrung out with his guilt, and so were we. We knew he was right, but what were we supposed to do back then? Leave the baby in the garbage so the rats could get to her?

Loving someone this little and fragile scares all of us. She depends on us for every little thing. We always have to remember to cut her meat into tiny squares so she won't choke, and making sure she doesn't step on a snake takes everyone's constant attention. Some days I get so scared inside worrying about her, I can barely get to sleep.

I prayed all the while she was sick. I even tried to bargain my life for hers. I guess God wanted us all to

stay around a little longer though, because on Saturday morning, the fever broke and Mary Rose came back to us.

Douglas and Adam and I were so relieved, tears came into our eyes. I'm not ashamed to admit it because no one saw us. Cole hid his tears too. He ran outside and didn't come back home for almost an hour. We all knew what he'd been doing. His eyes were as red as ours were and just as swollen. Keep praying for us, Mama Rose. We can use all the help we can get. We're sure praying for you. Now that the fighting is getting so close to you, we're more afraid for you than ever. The papers we get are full of old news, but Adam's trying to keep us up with all the battles being fought. The way it looks now, the South might win this war no one will officially call a war yet. Stay safe, please. We need you. Your son,

Travis

P.S. I almost forgot the good news. Just two weeks ago, the Morrisons arrived. They plan on building a general store down the road from Blue Belle's shack. Everyone is mighty pleased about that, of course. It's going to be a luxury to be able to order our supplies so close by. The mail will eventually be delivered to the store as well, though still only just once a week.

The Morrisons have a daughter named Catherine. She's about a year and a half older than our Mary Rose. Our sister needs a friend to play with, at least Adam says she does, and since the Morrisons seem to be decent folks, Cole doesn't have any objections about getting the little girls together.

Harrison was up at the crack of dawn. He hadn't slept well at all. He had awakened during the night when Cole crept into the bunkhouse and searched through his things, and after he had left, Harrison couldn't go back to sleep. He'd thought about asking Cole what it was he was looking for, but after mulling the idea over, he decided to continue to pretend to be asleep. He hadn't been worried Cole would find anything significant. Harrison wasn't carrying any important papers or files with him. All the information he had gathered, along with the report he'd received from the attorney in St. Louis, had already been posted back to London. He was still damned irritated, and depending upon his mood later in the day, he might or might not decide to make an issue out of the intrusion.

His mood didn't improve. After he washed and dressed, he went to the barn to take care of MacHugh. He then spent at least twenty wasted minutes trying to coax the stubborn animal into leaving his stall. He wanted to take the horse back to the corral. MacHugh wanted to stay where he was. He knocked the bridle out of Harrison's hands, and when Harrison had picked it up and started toward the stallion again, MacHugh tried to trample him. The ungrateful beast was making enough noise to wake the household. Harrison finally ran out of patience. He cursed the animal for several minutes, and in several languages, and although it didn't make MacHugh settle down and behave, Harrison still felt a hell of a lot better for having vented his frustration.

He finally threw his hands up in defeat. If MacHugh wanted to rot in the stall, that was fine with him. He left the gate open, turned to leave, and came to a quick stop. Cole and Douglas were standing just inside the entrance to the barn, and from the ugly grins on their faces, Harrison knew they had witnessed MacHugh's tantrum. "There's food up at the house," Douglas informed him. "When you've finished eating, Cole's going to put you to work."

"Doing what?" Harrison asked.

"I was going to let you help me break in a couple of mustangs, but from the way I just saw you handle your horse, I've changed my mind. Why don't you stay in the house and play the piano?" Harrison's temper ignited. He remembered Cole's reaction when Mary Rose blurted out that Adam had also learned how to play the piano, and Harrison decided to give the arrogant brother a little well-deserved prodding.

"Do I play before or after Adam has a turn?" Cole came rushing toward him. He stopped just inches away. The brother didn't look angry, however. He looked worried. Harrison was confused by the reaction.

"Listen, MacDonald, the only reason Adam learned how to play was so that Mary Rose would. He had to act like he was enjoying learning. You got that straight? He didn't want to; he had to." Douglas also felt it necessary to defend the eldest brother's motives. "We don't want you getting the idea Adam isn't manly. He can hold his own in any fight. Can't he, Cole?"

"Damned right he can. What do you think about that,

MacDonald?"

Harrison didn't even try to be diplomatic with his answer. "I think the two of you are crazy." He figured they had to realize they were out of their minds because they held such stupid prejudices. Any kind of prejudice was just plain ignorant, and in Harrison's estimation, it was also completely unreasonable and illogical. Therefore, it was crazy.

Douglas turned bright red in response to Harrison's opinion. Cole kept his reaction hidden. Harrison gave up on the two. He tried to walk past them and go outside to get some fresh air. He was thoroughly disgusted.

Cole blocked his path. Douglas nudged him out of the way. "Don't hit him yet," he told his brother. "I want to ask him something."

"Why do you think we're crazy?" He sounded bewildered.

"You both believe that only women should be allowed to play the piano, isn't that right?" Neither brother answered. Harrison shook his head. "Your attitude is both ludicrous and completely illogical. Adam is an accomplished man," he continued. "It's to his credit that he is so well-educated." He turned his full attention to Cole. "You, on the other hand…" Douglas interrupted him before he could finish.

"I don't want any roughhousing in my barns," he announced. "The horses get riled up. Cole, I don't see why Harrison can't help with the mustangs."

"I'm certain I'm capable enough," Harrison interjected. "It can't be all that difficult, and it sure as hell can't require much intelligence."

"Why do you say that?" Douglas asked.

Harrison smiled. "Cole does it, doesn't he?"

It took a second or two for the insult to register. Harrison patiently waited. He expected Cole to either go for his gun or use his fist. He was prepared for either reaction.

Cole's eyes widened. He took a step back, shook his head, and then burst into laughter. Harrison was severely disappointed. He wanted to fight.

"You're an easy man to like, Harrison," Cole told him. "Honest to God, you are."

"Next time you go through my things, I'll shoot you."

Cole looked surprised. "You heard me last night?"

"Damned right I did."

"You're getting sloppy, Cole."

"I guess I am. I didn't think I made a sound."

"Exactly what were you looking for?" Harrison asked.

"Nothing really," Cole replied. "I was just curious." Douglas rushed to explain. "You should understand his curiosity," he said. "It was difficult for us to believe you couldn't fend for yourself, as big as you are. Of course, once you mentioned you played the piano, I understood how it was."

"Exactly how was it?"

"You know… with your father sick and all… Cole, you shouldn't have gone through his things. It wasn't hospitable."

"You told me to," Cole reminded his brother.

Douglas couldn't remember making such a suggestion. The two brothers got into a rather heated argument. One thing led to another, and before long they were arguing about something that had happened years ago. If Harrison had been standing close to a wall, he was certain he would have started slamming his head into it by now. The Clayborne men were making him crazy. He decided to take control of the conversation. "I can fend for myself," he snapped, forcing the two of

them to leave their childhood grudges behind. "I do want to learn about ranching, but you two don't have to waste your time teaching me how to fight or shoot. If you'll step outside, I'll be happy to prove it." Cole laughed. "How are you going to prove it? Shoot us?"

Harrison shook his head. "The idea does have merit," he admitted. "However, I've decided I'll just beat the hell out of the two of you."

Douglas gave him a pitying look. "Not knowing how to defend yourself isn't anything to be ashamed of, Harrison. We'll teach you what you need to know. I'm happy to see you've got a temper though. You'll have to be a little hotheaded if you want to get along with people."

"That's ridiculous."

"Maybe," Cole agreed. "But it's also the way it is around here. You want some respect or don't you?" Harrison gave up trying to reason with the mule-headed men. He knew he was responsible for planting the misconception in their heads that he was inept. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Mary Rose took weaklings in, and so he pretended to be just that.

It suddenly dawned on him that he was being as illogical as the brothers. He was getting exactly what he wanted. He should have been pleased.

He wasn't though. And all because he didn't want Mary Rose to think he was weak. What in thunder was the matter with him? Harrison left the brothers and went to the house. He forced himself to concentrate on the real reason he had traveled all the way to Montana. Lady Victoria. He didn't have any doubts left. Mary Rose had to be Lord Elliott's long-lost daughter. He wished he could just pick her up, toss her over MacHugh's able back, and drag her back to England where she belonged. There were, however, several giant obstacles barring his path. First, he had to find the mastermind behind the kidnapping. Until the culprit or culprits were found, the Elliott family wasn't safe.

The other obstacles standing in the way of reuniting the grieving father with his daughter were the Clayborne brothers.

Damn it all, he wished he didn't like them. Even Cole was beginning to make him smile with his ridiculous notions about life. All the brothers' obvious love for their little sister was something he had to admire. And respect. And so was their loyalty to one another.

None of them was going to let her go without putting up a fight. And just what the hell was he going to do about that?

Harrison didn't believe Mary Rose would prove to be too much of a problem. She wouldn't fight the inevitable; at least, he didn't think she would. Granted, she wanted to stay in her valley for the rest of her life, but he knew her feelings would change when she found out she had a father waiting for her back in England. She was simply too kindhearted not to go and at least meet the man. Getting her to stay in London would be her father's problem. Harrison's work would be done.

He quit mulling the matter over in his mind, picked up his step, and was just about to turn the corner so

he could go directly into the kitchen from the back door, when he spotted Mary Rose hurrying in the opposite direction. She was headed toward the smaller barn, and from the indirect path she was taking, it didn't take him long to realize she didn't want to be noticed by anyone. She carried a brown wicker basket with a rounded handle looped over her arm.

"Good morning, Harrison," Travis said from behind.

Harrison turned around. "Morning," he replied. "Where's your sister going? She seems to be in quite a hurry."

Travis smiled. "She's sneaking off. I know where she's headed though. I'm going to give her a couple of minutes, then follow her. Adam's going to be angry when he finds out."

"Finds out what?"

"Mary Rose is paying a call on Crazy Cornelia."

"Is she the woman who survived the Indian attack?"

"You already heard about her?"

"Your sister mentioned her last night."

"Corrie's the one, all right. Word has it she's crazy as a loon. Guess if you got scalped, you would be too. Even the Indians stay away from her now. They're afraid of her. So are most of the people in Blue Belle. They're talking about burning her out."

"Burning her out of what?"

"Her cabin," Travis explained. "A trapper thought the place was deserted. She almost blew his head off with her shotgun when he tried to get near the door. Corrie's been holed up there since the attack, and that was over fifteen years ago. Anyway, now that Mary Rose knows about her, she's determined to pay a visit. She thinks the woman could use a friend. Adam told her she couldn't go. He said it was too dangerous. No telling what the woman will do. I knew Mary Rose wouldn't listen though. She never does. There she goes now. Honest to God, Adam's going to kill her." Travis took off at a trot. "Tell my brothers where I'm going, all right?" he called over his shoulder. The brother was armed for trouble. Harrison was pleased to know that all the Clayborne men watched out for their little sister.

He heard Travis mutter something about being damned tired of being inconvenienced, and found himself smiling in reaction.

It was the last moment of joy he experienced for a long, long while. Breaking in mustangs wasn't difficult. It was impossible. Harrison didn't get the knack of it for a full week, and during the days in between, he suffered one indignity after another. He was black and blue everywhere. His humiliation was just as painful for him. He spent more time on his backside and shoulders in the dirt than on his feet and, in general, provided a vast amount of entertainment for the Clayborne family.

Cole's timing was superb. No matter what task he was involved in, he always happened to be near the corral whenever Harrison went flying off the saddle. The brother always reacted the same way. First he would give an exaggerated wince for Harrison's benefit, then shake his head and say, "That's going to hurt." Laughter inevitably followed.

Harrison wanted to kill Cole, of course. Going after him would have required strength, however, and he simply didn't have any to spare.

He couldn't make up his mind which time of day was worse. In the evenings, his entire body throbbed in agony, and in the mornings he felt as if rigor mortis had set in. He walked around like an old, bowlegged man. Honest to God, he even groaned like one.

Mary Rose came to the bunkhouse late one evening, but fortunately he still had his pants on. He'd gotten his torn shirt off, then collapsed onto the bed, facedown. He didn't even lift his head up when she walked inside.

"Oh, Harrison, your back is a mess," she whispered. She sat down on the side of the bed and gently patted him. "Adam sent some liniment to soothe your muscles. Would you like me to put some on your shoulders?"

He needed it on his backside, but he knew it wouldn't be proper for him to ask.

"Thank you."

"You're all tuckered out, aren't you?" she asked.

He didn't answer her. Mary Rose opened the bottle and poured some of the cold liquid on his back. Then she started to massage the aches away. She wrinkled her nose in reaction to the scent and hoped Harrison wouldn't notice.

"What in God's name is that stench?"

He looked toward the open doorway, thinking the odor must have been coming from outside.

"It's the liniment," she explained.

"God, it's foul."

"The horses seem to like it."

He lifted his head. "You use this stuff on your horses?"

She pushed his head back down on the pillow. "It's all right to use on people too. The smell will fade in a minute. Try to relax. Let me work the liniment into your muscles. You're going to feel better in no time at all."

He didn't believe her. His backside was still going to ache. "Leave the bottle," he suggested. "If the liniment works, I'll put some on my… leg."

"All right," she promised. "Close your eyes and try to rest."

Five minutes later, he thought he'd died. Her hands were magical against his skin. His muscles were soothed, but he wasn't the least bit aroused by her closeness or her touch, and in his mind, that could only mean he was already dead.