Give My Love to Rose (30 page)

“
That must have been a
hell of a dream this morning,” he finally spoke.

Rose didn’t look up from her sewing. “Yes.
But it wasn’t anything I’m not used to.” She paused to frown at
him. “I’m sorry about your nose.”

“
My nose is fine,” he
promised. “It finally doesn’t hurt when I breathe.”

Rose’s lips twitched. “I did get you pretty
good.”

Marston laughed and leaned across the
distance separating them to press a tender kiss to her cheek. He
swelled with pride and love at the sight of the happy smile that
lit her face.

“
Wanna talk to me about
the dream?” he asked, settling back on the sofa.

She shook her head, her eyes dropping back
to her sewing. “You know I don’t.”

Marston growled under his breath. Yeah, he
knew Rose didn’t want to, but she was going to anyway. Marston had
been patient all these months just waiting for her to open up—he
was done waiting.

“
Well then tell me who
Gilliam is.”

Rose’s face paled, her sewing clattered to
the floor and her lips trembled as she looked at him with blue eyes
that were wild. “Who?”

“
You heard me,” Marston
replied, hating to see her so frightened but knowing that this was
the only way he could see revenge served. “You said his name this
morning during your dream. Who is Gilliam?”

Rose turned her head and stared into the
fire. How did you tell the man that you loved that Gilliam was the
name of the man who was supposed to be your father? The man who
starved you, beat you and forced you to lay with countless men for
money? How did you tell him that it was the name of the man who
forced you to lay with him, got you with child and then sold you to
the highest bidder?

Rose wasn’t even aware that Marston had
moved until he was lifting her from the arm hair and settling her
down on his lap. His strong body enveloped her and his warm lips
kissed her hair. “Rose, you can tell me.”

Rose listened to his heart beat beneath his
ear and picked at the button on his shirt. Her heart pounded, her
lips shook and her stomach churned, but Rose knew she had to tell
him. She couldn’t keep it all locked inside any longer.

“
Gilliam Montgomery was
the man who adopted me from the orphanage when I was ten,” she
whispered. “I couldn’t believe it when he picked me over all the
younger children. I was certain that he was my savior… Then one
night, about two months after he took me, the first man showed
up.”

Rose shivered as memories of that night
flashed in her mind. The tastes, the scent, the touches—all of them
just as vivid as if they had happened last night instead of years
ago.

Marston felt a wildfire of rage spark to
life in his blood. He knew Gilliam Montgomery—or at least knew of
him. He had met him a few times and hadn’t thought he was too bad a
man—of course, Marston had realized he was keeping children as
whores either. It was well known that you could sample women if you
went to Gilliam, but no one ever mentioned little girls.

“
How long did he have you,
Rose?” Marston whispered, his jaw so tight it felt as if it would
snap.

“
Almost six years,” came
her quiet reply.

Marston held her tighter, hoping that
somehow his touch would take her pain away. He wanted to do nothing
more than shield and protect her from anything bad in the world.
“I’m sorry, Rose.”

“
You have nothing to be
sorry for,” she assured him, pressing her lips to the throbbing
pulse in his throat. “The worst part about what he did to me is
that I know who Langley’s father is.”

“
Me,” Marston snapped more
roughly than he’d intended.

Rose raised her head to look at him and he
saw the haunted, bone deep sorrowful look in her blue eyes.
“Gilliam. He beat me one night and then he…he forced me…” Rose’s
voice broke and she squeezed her eyes shut tight against the pain.
“Langston came not long after and took me away. Three weeks later I
learned I was with child.”

Marston didn’t know what to say and he was
afraid to speak. If he spoke she would hear the rage boiling in his
blood. If he spoke, she would hear the barely contained fury and
Marston knew that at this moment, that wasn’t something she needed
to hear.

So he did the only thing he could do and
simply held her close. He held her silently within his arms as the
fire dwindled to nothing but smoldering embers.

Marston felt Rose twitch in his arms and he
turned his gaze to her face to find that she was sleeping
peacefully against him. Marston stood, cradling her soft body in
his arms and he carried her to the bed.

Rose mumbled softly in her sleep as Marston
laid her upon the feather tick mattress. He kissed her brow
tenderly and pulled the blankets up to her chin.

Silently, Marston packed his saddlebags and
pulled paper and a pencil from the cabinet. He wrote two letters
and folded them carefully. Marston left one on the table and
slipped silently into Langley’s bedroom with the second. He patted
the sleeping boy’s red hair as emotion clogged his throat.

Quickly Marston laid the letter on top of
Langley’s favorite storybook and fled the room. He gathered up his
weapons, strapped them on, shouldered his saddlebag, snatched up
his duster and left the cabin.

Gilliam Montgomery would pay for what he’d
done to Rose—pay for what he’d stolen from her. Marston set off
into the night with only one thought resonating in his mind.

Vengeance.

***

Rose knew instantly upon awakening that she
was alone in the bed. Reaching over her hand, Rose realized that
Marston’s pillow was cold—he hadn’t slept there last night.

Fear settled deep in her gut. What if
Marston had left her? What if the full knowledge of her past—the
full knowledge of Langley’s paternity had been too much for
him?

Deep inside Rose knew that her fears were
foolish, but that did nothing to make them less real. She listened
for any sign of movement in the cabin but heard nothing. The
morning was silent and still.

Rose’s bare feet carried her to the empty
kitchen. The air held a chill and Rose decided to start a fire in
the cook stove to warm the place up however she was distracted from
that task when she saw the piece of folded paper on the table with
her name on it.

She recognized Marston’s messy handwriting
and her heart dropped into her stomach.

He had left.

She picked the paper up and unfolded the
trembling piece of paper.

Rose,

You know what you mean to me. There is
nothing that I would not do to keep you happy and safe. You also
know that I am not a patient man, I am not an understanding man and
I am not a forgiving man.

I have suffered through all these nightmares
with you these last few months. I have held you while you’ve cried
and felt more and more helpless with each tear. Helplessness and I
are not a good match. There is nothing I can do to fix the wrongs
that were done to you, but I damn well can make sure that the man
responsible pays.

I am going to be honest with you because I
don’t want secrets between us. I know the man you spoke of last
night. I know where he was as of a year ago. It is my intent to
find him and see him bleed for what he’s done to you.

I love you, Rose. I shouldn’t be gone longer
than two weeks but if I am please don’t worry. He might have moved
and it might take longer to track him down than I hope it will.
Take care of yourself while I’m gone and don’t work too hard. If
there is anything you need, I left all the money under the loose
floorboard. Don’t worry about me. I’m good at surviving.

Yours forever

Marston

Rose sat down hard in the chair as
realization dawned on her. She had finally told Marston the name of
the man who had wronged her and caused those nightmares she had so
often and he had run off to avenge her.

Rose hated the thought of him killing again.
It made her stomach ache and burn to know that he would be taking a
life, but Rose also knew that Marston would not hesitate to kill
anyone who harmed those he loved—and he did love her. And she loved
him as well—fiercely.

Rose did the only thing she could do. She
sent a prayer up to God to bring her man home safe and forgive him
the wrong he was preparing to do.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It was dark when Marston slipped from Buck’s
back seven days later. He was somewhere in the middle of nowhere in
northeastern Texas and the night sky was clear and dotted with
stars.

A lantern was glowing in the window of the
shack in the distance and two horses were hitched outside. Marston
knew Gilliam was here tonight and he had one of his collection of
whores no doubt laying with whoever owned that second horse.

All Marston could think of—all he’d thought
of for days—was Rose and the hell that this man had put her
through. His blood had long since turned to ice in his veins and
there was no room left in his mind for doubts. Was this
cold-blooded murder? Yes. Was it justified? Damn straight.

Marston left his rifle in the saddle and
slipped through the shadows. He wouldn’t be needing a long range
weapon. Marston wanted to be up close and personal when he took
Gilliam’s life. He wanted to cause the man as much pain as he could
before he let his heart stop beating.

Approaching the cabin, Marston crouched
beside the open window and listened. Two men were arguing inside
and he could hear a girl sobbing.

Girl—not woman.

Damnation! Gilliam had another girl. Marston
glanced through the window and recognized Gilliam instantly and the
man he was arguing with was Vincent Sharp. Vincent was bare from
the waist up and he wore a bloody handprint on his chest.

Marston’s eyes went past them to the tiny
bed in the corner and the young girl who was curled up there naked
and bleeding. She couldn’t be any more than ten or twelve and she
was pale skin pulled tightly over bones as she trembled
violently.

Suddenly Marston felt a bone-deep shame fill
him. A shame that the life he had led for so long had had him
traveling roads with men like these. These men were monsters and
Marston sent up a prayer that God would forgive him for every wrong
thing he had ever done and every innocent person he had ever
harmed. He didn’t ask forgiveness for what he was about to do
because as far as he was concerned there was no wrong in it.

Marston pulled his revolver, took a deep
steadying breath and then kicked the door with all his might. With
a splintering of wood, the door flew open and Marston fired a shot
directly into Vincent’s chest. Without sparing the man another
glance, Marston leaped toward Gilliam and brought his revolver down
hard on his head. Gilliam crumpled to the floor in an unconscious
heap.

Marston smiled as he hogtied the man and
tossed him in the corner. The smile faded when he turned his
attention to the girl on the bed. He realized just how much had
changed at that moment. The Marston he’d been before Rose and
Langley would have barely spared the girl a second glance. The
Marston he’d been before would have shrugged her way, chalked it up
to bad luck in life and walked away.

But he wasn’t that man any longer.

Marston walked toward her slowly,
approaching her with his hands up just as he would a wild animal.
The low lamplight revealed that her physical state was poor. Her
blond hair was knotted, dirty and limp around her gaunt face. Each
and every bone in her bare body jutted out roughly against her pale
skin—skin that was covered in wounds and scars just like Rose.

The girl whimpered and wrapped her arms
around herself tightly as she shied away from him. “It’s okay,” he
whispered. “I’m not going to hurt you.” She didn’t look the least
bit convinced by his promises.

“
Where are your clothes,
girl?” Marston asked, glancing around.

The girl’s green eyes were wary, but Marston
could see hope beginning to light them. She held out one thin arm
and pointed toward a chest in the corner.

Marston walked to the chest and pulled out a
yellow gingham dress and underclothes. He tossed them on the bed
beside her. “Can you dress yourself?” he asked, hoping the answer
was yes.

“
Yes,” she whispered, her
voice frail.

Marston turned his back to her and gave her
as much privacy as the tiny cabin would allow. When she was
dressed, Marston pulled his bandana from his pocket and held it out
to her. She frowned and he pointed to her cheek which was cut and
bleeding.

The girl pressed her fingertips to her wound
and winced before looking at the blood covering them. She took the
offered bandana and held it over her face.

“
What’s your name,
girl?”

“
Kaitlyn.”

“
Do you have a home? A
family?”

Kaitlyn shook her head. “Gilliam adopted
me.”

The girl was shaking like a leaf in a
windstorm so Marston grabbed a scratchy wool blanket and laid it
over her shoulders. “Yeah, well, I don’t think he’s gonna be in any
shape to be your pa after tonight,” Marston assured her and the
ghost of a smile tugged at her lips.

Marston led Kaitlyn out of the cabin and
took her to Buck. “Do you know how to use this?” he asked, placing
his heavy revolver in her hand.

Her eyes widened as she shook her head. “You
just pull the hammer back, aim the revolver and squeeze the trigger
slowly,” he advised. Kaitlyn nodded. “Stay right here and wait on
me.”

Marston left her standing there as he
slipped off through the night once more and returned to the cabin.
He strode across the tiny shack to Gilliam and found the man awake
and staring at him with pale blue eyes.