Give My Love to Rose (29 page)

As Marston stood straight once again, Hester
became flustered, scooped up the list and dashed away to begin
filling it. Marston growled under his breath and strode from the
store with Duke and Jeremiah following closely.

“
That’s a friendly woman,”
Jeremiah chuckled.

“
About as cuddly as a
damned cactus,” Duke agreed.

Marston pulled his duster coat tighter and
stepped across the road to the blacksmith shop. “Good to see you
again, Marston!” Tray boomed when he noticed the trio step inside.
He pulled off his thick gloves and shook each man’s hand in turn.
“You look like you’ve something on your mind, Marston,” Tray stated
as Marston lounged against the tool bench. “What can I do for
you?”

Marston scratched at his jaw. “I’d be
interested in a job.”

“
A job!?” Jeremiah and
Duke exclaimed in unison.

Marston shot them a hard look that had them
stepping back but didn’t stop their horrified murmurs and mutters
that let him know they clearly feared he’d lost his mind.

“
Now I don’t want to sound
quite like your disbelieving friends there, but, a job? You want to
be a blacksmith?” Tray asked.

Marston pushed himself away from the tool
bench. “Not exactly,” he replied. “I was actually thinking about
opening a gunsmith shop and I was hoping I could rent a bit of your
extra space here.”

Tray rubbed at his hair as he glanced around
thoughtfully. “I suppose I could rent some space to you. I think
you’d do alright with a gun shop. Most folks around here have to
send their guns off to have them worked on and folks passing
through are always asking me to tend to their weapons. You
definitely seem like a man who knows his way around a firearm.”

Marston grinned as he rolled his shoulders
and felt the familiar weight of his rifle on his back. “Thanks
Tray.” Marston reached his hand out and shook Tray’s firmly. “I
appreciate it. We’ll work out the details later. I’ll have to get
some supplies ordered.”

“
Just come on in whenever
you’re ready,” Tray agreed.

“
Have you lost your mind?”
Duke demanded once they were back on the street.

“
What the hell have you
done with my brother?” Jeremiah chimed in.

Marston growled. “Is it that surprising that
I want to work for my money?”

Both of them nodded firmly. “Yes, it is!”
Jeremiah exclaimed.

Duke shook his head. “I can understand that
woman and kid getting under your skin and putting settling down in
your mind but a job?!” Duke hissed the last word as if it were
poison.

“
I want to teach Langley
to work hard for what he wants and not take the easy way out and
steal his way through life.” Marston shrugged. “I figure the best
way to do that is to get a job.”

“
Stealing ain’t easy!”
Jeremiah blustered. “You get shot at! Every now and then you take a
punch. It can be damn hard work.”

Instead of gracing his annoying jackass of
an older brother with a reply, Marston made his way back to the
H&H Mercantile to find Hester standing over his pile of goods
with a haughty sneer on her narrow face.

Without a word, Marston began loading his
supplies into the cart. Duke and Jeremiah merely lounged against
the banisters and watched. Apparently they were there as strictly
moral support.

“
Thank you, Hester,”
Marston flashed her the politest smile his arsenal contained. “As
always it was a pleasure doing business with your fine
establishment.”

He hopped up onto the cart and grabbed the
reins, eager to be away from town and back at the cabin. Hester’s
bony hand clutching tightly at his thick forearm had him frowning
and glaring down at her. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed.

She didn’t back down and Marston was forced
to admit, albeit silently, that she had nerve. “I want you to know
that I sent the Marshal in Millerton a wire. I let him know a man
named Marston was living in our town and that he was the bad
sort.”

Marston chuckled and folded his arms on his
lap, gripping the reins loosely with his fingertips. “And?”

Hester’s lips pursed. “He claims he has no
knowledge of who you are and has never before heard of you.”

Marston shook his head sadly. “That must be
a great disappointment to you, Hester.”

Hester moved closer, her nails digging into
his arm. “I’ll be watching you, Marston. I know a no-good thief
when I see one.”

Marston winked, unwilling to admit that the
little heifer was hurting his arm with those claws of hers. “And
with those eyes of yours I’m sure you won’t miss a thing.”

She scoffed as she released her hold on him
and took a step back. Marston flicked the reins and started Buck
down the road, purposely shifting the cart sideways so Hester would
have to dodge to avoid being hit by the wheel.

“
What a bitch,” Duke
grumbled as they headed out of town.

“
I’ve always thought so,”
Marston agreed.

“
She tried to rat you out
to the law, Marston!” Jeremiah exclaimed.

“
I know that, Jeremiah. I
was there when she told me, remember?”

“
You want me to kill her?”
Jeremiah offered, a cold smile curving his lips. “I’d do it with a
smile.”

Marston frowned. “I thought you didn’t kill
women.”

Amusement lit Jeremiah's eyes. “That ain’t a
woman. That’s a harpy.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The days passed quickly, flying into weeks
which, in turn, became months. Marston had never been more
satisfied with his life than he was now. He had a son and he had a
woman who was a wife to him in every way that mattered. He’d
offered to make the marriage legal but no one in the backwater town
was ordained to do so and Marston was too keen on having some nosy
two-bit government type give him a sheet of paper with a signature
on it.

Hell, all that mattered was what was in
Marston’s heart and Rose’s heart and as far as either of them was
concerned, they were husband and wife.

Marston listened to the early morning sounds
of spring outside the bedroom window as Rose breathed gently
against his chest and he held her close. He closed his eyes,
deciding that he didn’t need to rush off to work today, and he was
nearly asleep once again when the peace of the morning was
shattered by Rose tensing and letting out a scream before
attempting to leap from his arms.

Marston sighed and did his best to comfort
and soothe her as she jerked, kicked and punched for all she was
worth, struggling against his hold. Marston hated this. It made him
feel helpless and powerless and neither were feelings he enjoyed.
Nothing in the world was worse on a man than seeing the woman he
loved suffering being able to do nothing to stop her pain.

“
Rose, love, who’s hurting
you?” he asked gently, grunting when her elbow sank between his
ribs. He didn’t honestly think she’d answer even in her dream
state, but she shocked him when she opened her mouth.

“
Gilliam.”

Marston finally had a name.

His shock at her admission had his hold on
her loosening and that proved to be a mistake as she was still
asleep and that nightmare was still plaguing her. Her fist shot up
and the heel of her hand caught Marston in the nose.

“
Dammit!” he bellowed,
leaping away from her and clutching at his face.

Rose’s eyes flew open and horror filled
their blue depths. “Did I hit you?”

Marston paused in his ranting string of
curses and mustered a grin behind his hand. “No, I hit myself.”

Tears filled Rose’s eyes and Marston felt
blood trickling between his fingers. Damn the woman had a mean
right hook.

“
Oh god… you’re bleeding!”
she gasped, sobs building in her chest.

Marston sighed. “I’m fine, Rose. I’ve had
worse. Can you get me a towel?”

Rose quickly left the bedroom, her
nightdress swishing around her ankles as she dashed from the room.
She returned moments later with a small towel and Marston pressed
the cotton tight against his bleeding nose. “Did I break it?” Rose
whispered, wringing her hands.

Marston chuckled, the sound muffled with the
towel on his face. “No, you didn’t break it,” he assured her. “You
just hurt its feelings real bad.”

Rose frowned and smoothed his thick brown
hair from his brow. “I’m sorry.”

Marston waved his hand dismissively. “No
need for apologies. I’ve taken harder licks than that and I’m still
here.”

Guilt was still etched deep in Rose’s
features and when Marston pulled the towel away and she saw the
bright red blood staining it, her face paled considerably. “I’ve
never hit anyone….”

Marston laughed lightly as he felt his nose.
It was done bleeding and it was tender as hell, but he’d be just
fine. “You should make a habit of doing it more,” he teased. “You
have a good arm.”

The indignant expression on Rose’s face
caused Marston to burst into laughter and when she grabbed a pillow
and hit him upside the head with it, his laughter intensified

“
You’re not funny!” she
snapped, though he could see her lips twitching.

“
I’m hilarious,” Marston
countered, gaining control of his amusement.

Rose glared and walked to her wardrobe.
Keeping her back to him, she slid from her nightdress and let the
fabric fall to the floor.

A surge of heat shot through Marston. Desire
slammed into him like a runaway train. Rose was all soft pale skin
and Marston’s fingers itched to stroke her, touch her, tease her
until she was whimpering and purring beneath him…

Damn, what he felt for that woman was
strong. The months had done nothing to ease the want he had for
her, instead the attraction had grown and morphed into something
that Marston knew would last a lifetime.

“
You better get that off
your mind,” Rose warned, wagging a finger at him. “I can hear
Langley moving around out there so there’s no time.”

Marston merely sat there and watched her as
she slid into her underclothes and took a blue gingham dress she
had finished making just yesterday from the wardrobe. She realized
his eyes were still on her and he saw the flush work its way down
her neck.

Marston stood from the bed slowly and Rose’s
sharp intake of breath filled the room. He always slept without
clothes and clearly Rose was appreciating that fact right about
now. He pretended he didn’t notice her gaze on him as he slid into
his clothes and strapped his knife to his leg.

After pulling on his boots and slipping his
hat on his head, Marston let his eyes go to her and he realized
that her hands were still on her hair but her movements had stilled
and she was no longer braiding the red strands. He walked to her as
her blue eyes darkened and gazed at him longingly.

Marston gave her a quick, chaste kiss and
chuckled. “You better get that off your mind,” he warned.
“Langley’s awake.”

Rose was sputtering and Marston was nearly
certain he even heard a curse or two pass through her lips as he
quickly fled the bedroom with laughter rumbling from his chest.

“
Good morning, Langley,”
he greeted the boy who was sitting at the table playing with the
jacks that Duke had given him at Christmas. Langley’s uncles had
been to visit two times since then much to Marston’s
surprise.

“
Good morning, pa,”
Langley replied brightly. Marston ruffled his red hair and then
went to the cabinet and got out the skillet. “What are you doing?”
Langley inquired, his eyes narrowing.

“
I was gonna make us some
eggs for breakfast,” Marston replied setting the skillet on the
cook stove, which Langley had already gotten a fire built in. “I
don’t know about you, but my stomach is eating my
backbone.”

“
Every time I swallow, my
stomach yells at me to quit teasing it,” Langley agreed. But then
he shivered. “Are you sure you wanna make eggs?”

Marston frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Langley chewed the inside of his lip and
tapped the table. “Well, every time you make eggs, they’re so
watery we have to tip up our plates and drink them like soup!”

“
They’re not that damn
bad,” Marston grumbled.

Langley snorted. “Are too.”

Marston crossed his arms over his chest and
stared down his nose at the boy. “You know when I was your age I
barely ever got breakfast. I barely got any food at all. I would
have sold my left damn leg for a plate full of watery eggs.”

Langley stared up at Marston a moment,
appeared bored with the whole conversation and then went back to
playing his jacks. Marston grinned. Score one for him—he’d actually
managed to render Langley speechless.

“
I’ll save your stomach
and let your mama do the cooking,” Marston relented, heading for
the door and grabbing his gun belt off the back of the chair. “I’m
gonna go feed the critters while you get busy with your
math.”

“
Okay,” Langley began
dropping his jacks back into a tiny burlap sack. “Uncle Jeremiah
showed me a real fun way to do it!”

Marston cinched his gun belt tight around
his hips and shook his head. “Figuring out how many cattle a
rancher will have left after you rustle a few isn’t the best way to
practice your math.”

Langley grinned. “Uncle Jeremiah says it
is.”

Marston let out a long sigh as he opened the
door. “Your uncle Jeremiah has suffered heat stroke at least a
dozen times. He isn’t the best to be taking advice from.”

***

Langley had long since gone to bed that
night as Rose sat curled up in the armchair with her sewing and
Marston sat on the sofa, smoking his pipe and watching her closely.
He needed to talk to her, he just hated that it was going to ruin
the peace of this moment.