Give My Love to Rose (9 page)

‘
Would you be honest for
once in your life?’ the voice grumbled. ‘You’re still here because
you don’t want to leave.’

Marston growled under his breath. “Are you
okay?” Rose’s voice broke through the argument he was currently
having with himself. He looked up from the dirty ground and let his
eyes find her face.

She had one arched red brow raised and her
teeth were nibbling her full bottom lip. She was truly beautiful.
Like the sight of a hoof trampled waterhole when you’d been riding
days in a drought.

Growling, Marston turned away from her. “I’m
fine, dammit. I wish you people would stop asking me if I’m okay
and worrying about me. And quit thanking me for stuff. And quit
treating me like I’m something I’m not!” Marston stalked off to the
barn without giving Rose time to respond.

Rose watched him go and wondered if that
outburst meant he was staying or leaving. On one hand, Rose knew
she should fear Marston and, in a way, she did. But, on the other
hand, she had seen glimpses of his kindness, generosity, and
caring. And her desperation for friendly companionship outweighed
her fear tenfold.

Rose was about to go into the barn to plead
with the man not to leave until the leg healed, when he came
limping out with a burlap sack of nails and a hammer. Langley was
hot on his heels. “Can I help you fix the corral? I’m real good at
pounding nails. Can I use the hammer?”

Rose hid her smile behind her hand as she
watched them. It was clear that Marston was a man who didn’t talk
much and Langley was a boy who rarely ceased. Rose hoped Langley
wouldn’t irritate Marston too badly. The boy had been his whole
life without a strong male influence and needed someone who would
be patient with him.

Marston nodded in response to Langley’s
questioned and handed him the hammer. Langley’s eyes lit up and
Rose continued to watch them as she finished hanging up her wet
clothes.

“
Now you hold that piece
up and I’ll nail it in. Yep, I’m real good at nailing. I just never
fixed nothing up because I’m no good at nailing and holding at the
same time. That’s hard to do, you know? Hey, what are you doing
with those nails?”

Rose looked up from a pair of trousers to
see Marston holding the flat ends of four nails up to Langley’s
mouth. Her first instinct was to rush to her son’s aid, but she
forced herself to remain still and simply observe.

“
Hold these between your
lips,” Marston ordered.

“
Why would I wanna do
that?” Langley asked skeptically.

“
That way I don’t have to
reach in the bag every time we need one,” Marston
replied.

“
Well, why don’t you hold
them in your mouth?”

Marston’s eyes narrowed. “Because I need you
to hold them in yours.”

Langley rolled his eyes but did as he was
told and put the flat ends of the nails between his lips. Marston
caught Rose’s gaze and the victorious smile on his face had her
laughing—Langley was now rendered completely unable to speak.

***

“
Eat with us,” Rose
ordered as she sat a third plate potatoes, cornbread, and beans on
the table that night.

“
I’m not hungry,” Marston
lied just before his stomach rumbled.

“
You sure sound hungry to
me,” Langley countered with a grin. “Sit down and have some taters.
Mama makes ‘em better than you do. I promise.”

“
Langley!” Rose scolded,
but the smile threatening to curve her lips took any harshness from
her voice.

Rose sat down next to Langley and motioned
for Marston to sit at the other side of the table. Marston stared
down at that chair as if it were a lit stick of dynamite. He had
never in his life been invited to sit down to a family meal. Hell,
he’d never in all his life been a part of a family.

‘
You could be now if you
wanted to.’

“
I don’t want to,” he
growled.

Rose let out a squeak at his sudden outburst
of temper. “Okay then,” she nodded. “You don’t have to.”

She reached for his plate, but Marston
quickly reached out and grabbed her wrist gently. “I wasn’t talking
to you.”

“
Then who were you talking
to?” Rose asked with confusion.

Marston shook his head. “No one.”

“
Are you going to eat with
us then?”

Marston stared down at his dark, calloused
and scarred hand holding on to her tender, pale wrist. “Yeah, I’ll
eat.”

Marston released his hold on her and sat
down with a wince. Langley was grinning across from him. “He was
talking to himself, mama. He does that when he doesn’t think anyone
is listening.”

“
Shouldn’t you be shoving
potatoes in that overactive mouth?” Marston grumbling before
shoving a bite in his own. Damn, but the kid had been right. Rose
was one hell of a cook.

“
You can’t eat yet!”
Langley exclaimed.

Marston paused mid-chew and fixed Langley
with a stare that had the boy shifting in his seat. “Why not?”

“
Because we haven’t said
grace yet,” Langley replied, glancing over at Rose for
approval.

Marston sat his fork down. “Well, you go
ahead and do what you want. I’ll just sit here real quiet and let
you speak, but I don’t take no part in saying grace.”

Rose smiled at her son. “Go ahead,
Langley.”

Marston watched Rose as she folded her hands
and bowed her head. She was so soft and gentle. She woke up a
protective urge in him that had long been dead. He wanted to care
for her and for Langley. He wanted to take away that load weighing
down her dainty shoulders.

Marston’s stomach rolled. He was no one’s
protector and he shouldn’t want to be!

His attention went to Langley when the boy’s
voice filled the quiet. “Dear Lord, thank You for the food we’re
about to eat. It smells real good. Thank You for making mama such a
good cook. Thank You for keeping Marston safe today against the
coyotes. Thanks for sending him to me and mama cuz we sure needed a
friend. Please watch over my pa up there in heaven with You and
make sure he knows that mama and I will be okay—especially now that
we have Marston. Amen.”

Langley attacked his food with gusto, but
Marston found that he had suddenly lost his appetite.

Friend? He wasn’t anybody’s friend. He was a
murderer. A thief. A heartless bastard who took what he wanted and
never regretted it. Marston looked out for himself and no one
else.

Damn that boy and his diarrhea of the
mouth.

Marston heard a quiet sniffle and he turned
to see Rose watching him closely. She quickly averted her gaze but
not before Marston saw the emotion and tears shining in her blue
eyes.

Emotions that caused his heart to feel like
it was being ripped open in his chest. Marston stood from the table
and limped toward the door.

“
Where are you going?”
Langley asked.

“
I’m not hungry,” Marston
replied before heading out into the night.

***

Rose stepped out into the darkness of night
a couple of hours later. The kitchen was cleaned and Langley was
tucked into bed, though the lantern light shining from beneath his
door told her he was probably reading instead of sleeping.

Rose sat her lantern down on the small table
beside her rocking chair and settled down with her sewing. She had
the porch to herself and couldn’t help but wonder where Marston had
gone. She hoped he hadn’t taken off without saying anything.

Rose had seen more on that man’s face at
dinner than she had expected to see. He’d been scared. Rose wasn’t
sure why eating dinner with them would scare Marston, but the man
had been terrified. He had tried hard to seem cold and distant, but
Rose was almost certain she’d also seen a bit of longing mixed in
with that fear.

Marston was a mystery that Rose simply
couldn’t figure out, but she found herself drawn to him despite her
common sense which told her she should know better.

Rose threaded her need and began sewing a
patch into the knee of the trousers in her lap. She rocked back and
forth gently and became lost in her thoughts on life. She didn’t
realize that she was no longer alone until Marston’s deep voice
came from the second chair on the other side of the tiny table.

“
Don’t you ever stop
working?”

Rose’s head shot up and she gasped before
shaking her head and covering her heart. How did such a big man
move so silently? “I don’t have that luxury,” she replied before
continuing to move that needle and thread with practiced ease.
Marston nodded before leaning back in the chair. “Thank you for
staying,” Rose added. “Langley would have been very upset if you’d
left without saying goodbye. He likes having you here—so do I if
I’m being honest.”

Rose saw his golden eyes widen slightly
before he turned his gaze away from her. He pulled a sharpening
stone from his pocket and then slid his knife from his leg. The
blade was at last ten inches long and it gleamed in the lantern
light.

“
You shouldn’t want me
here,” Marston warned as he slid that knife across the rock. The
metallic sound caused a shiver to run down Rose’s spine. Marston’s
face was suddenly cold as he looked into her eyes. “I’m a bad man,
Rose. A very bad man. I could kill you both and never feel a moment
of guilt.”

Rose’s hands shook and the trousers slipped
from her grip. She let out a whimper of pain when her needle sank
deep into her finger. Before she could blink, Marston was out of
his chair and on his knees in front of her. She was breathless as
he took her hand in his and examined it closely.

His eyes narrowed at the sight of the lone
droplet of blood welling from the hole she’d placed in her skin.
“You should be more careful,” he scolded.

Rose couldn’t respond because in the next
moment he was pulling her hand to his mouth and pressing the most
tender of kisses to her self-inflicted wound. His golden eyes once
again held that gentleness she’d seen in the woods.

Hadn’t he just gotten done telling her he
could kill her and her son?

“
Bad men aren’t supposed
to kiss away hurts,” she whispered, her voice trembling nearly as
badly as the rest of her.

Marston growled, dropped his hold on her and
stood gingerly, keeping his weight off his torn leg. He scooped his
knife and sharpening stone from the table and glared at her. “I am
a bad man, Rose. I’ll stay a few days for my leg to heal but then
I’m leaving and you’ll never see me again. My advice for you is to
keep your distance.”

With those final parting words, Marston left
the porch and limped beneath the moonlight into the barn. Rose was
left alone feeling more confused and conflicted than she had been
when she’d first come outside to clear her head.

Chapter Eight

Rose woke from a nearly sleepless night.
She’d tossed and turned and been on edge, waiting for Marston to
either come into the house and murder those inside as he’d promised
he could or slip into her room and kiss more than just her
fingertip….He had warned her that he’d do the first and yet his
eyes on that porch had told her he wanted to do the second.

She wanted to drift back to sleep and was
about to do just that when she was startled from the bed by the
sound of banging outside of the cabin. Rose pulled on her thin robe
and left her room. Her bare feet patted gently on the wood floor as
she stepped into the cabin and realized that Langley’s bedroom door
was open and he was gone.

Was her son alone with Marston? Why didn’t
that thought scare her after what the man had said last night?

That banging continued outside and so Rose
stepped out and walked around the side of the yard. The dew covered
grass soaked her feet and the bottom of her sleeping gown, but she
paid that no mind. Her attention was on the duo currently fixing
her crooked shutters.

Marston was holding the shutter in place
while Langley, (with nails between his lips), hammered it into
place and stared at Marston with what could only be called hero
worship.

Rose smiled. “It’s a bit early to be doing
hammering, don’t you think?”

Both of them whirled around with nearly
identical sheepish expressions. Langley spit the nails into his
hand and wiped his mouth with his hand. “We didn’t wake you up did
we, mama? Marston came in and got m up this morning. We did all the
outside chores for you. We fed the animals, gathered eggs, cleaned
the stalls and even milked the cow.” Langley counted off the chores
on his fingers. “Then Marston said we needed to fix the damn
shutters cuz they’re an eyesore.”

“
Language!” Rose scolded
quickly.

Langley flushed. “Well that’s what he said!”
he insisted, pointing an accusatory finger up at Marston.

Marston removed his gray hat and wiped his
brow on his shirt sleeve. “I’m afraid he’s right, ma’am.”

“
You came into the cabin
and woke Langley up?” Rose demanded. She didn’t like the thought of
Langley’s rest being interrupted for work.

“
He was already awake and
reading a book,” Marston assured her. “I could hear him moving
around so I figured he might as well be helping with the chores.
Someone needs to learn how to keep things up around here or the
place is gonna fall down around you.”

Rose squared her shoulders defensively. “We
do the best we can.” Marston merely shrugged. Rose pointed at the
hammer in Langley’s hand. “You two could have warned me before you
started pounding away,” she stated before crossing her arms under
her chest.

“
Did we scare….” Marston’s
voice trailed off. His gaze had been on a downward path toward her
breasts but had instead stopped on her neck and the dark purple
bruise that marred it. “What the hell happened to your neck?” he
roared, his jaw popping with the rage that tightened it.