Rose (4 page)

Dead silence.

“Now you listen to me,” she said, panting from the force of her rage, “or I swear, by God, I’ll never cook another thing for you as long as I live.”

“You crazy fool,” one twin said. “George, you can’t believe…”

Rose raised her coffeepot threateningly.

“Monty, you were taught not to interrupt a lady.”

George might have decided to strip his relationship with Rose of every vestige of emotion, but she had no difficulty seeing the fury that blazed in his black eyes. She wondered if he had ever hit a woman. She had never seen a man in the grip of such rage. Not this kind. It was pure, cold, and dangerous.

“But you can’t let her…”

George directed his blazing look at his brother. “Let her speak. Then you may have your say.”

Rose didn’t know how she would ever learn to tell Monty and Hen apart, but at the moment she didn’t care if she never saw either of them again. Only George’s anger seemed to have any ability to curb either one of them.

“Okay, tell me what’s wrong.”

He had given a command, just like he would to a private in the army, and he expected her to jump. Well, she would jump, but she doubted it would be the way George expected. She would get a few things straight right now. She may have made a mistake in assessing George’s character, but she didn’t mean to make any more.

“My name is Rose Thornton,” Rose announced after a pause to control the still-boiling anger which made it impossible to speak with a steady voice. “Yesterday your brother hired me for the express purpose of keeping house for seven”—she groped for a suitable word—“men.”

George’s glare prevented another outburst, but Rose couldn’t be sure whether he intended the look for her or his family.

“I nearly went back to Austin when I saw this place. But I had made an agreement, and I intended to stick to it. However, I refuse to work in a house where people don’t even have the courtesy to speak to me before they dive into their food. Your brother led me to believe you’d been brought up as gentlemen.” She pointed to the mess on the floor. “I see he was mistaken.”

“She can’t blame that on us,” Tyler said, appealing to his brother. “She turned the table over.”

The one who hates women, Rose thought. But he had managed to overcome his dislike long enough to come to the table.

“I couldn’t get your attention any other way,” Rose pointed out. “Nothing else could stop you from tearing at your food.”

“Didn’t any of you introduce yourselves?” George asked.

Rose could see the rage remained, but it burned less brightly. Something new lurked in his eyes. She had no idea what it might be.

“I guess we were too excited at the sight and smell of food we could eat.”

That was the one with only one arm. Jeff. The one who spent two years in a Yankee prison. He wouldn’t speak to her at all if he ever learned her father had fought for the Union.

“They didn’t even wait for the blessing,” Zac said a little self-righteously, Rose thought. She decided Zac was extraordinarily adept at guessing which way the wind would blow and getting clear of its stiffest blasts.

“It was the food,” the other twin said. Hen. He appeared to be quieter than his brothers, but he might be more dangerous. Zac had said Hen liked shooting people.

“But she had no call to turn the table over. Now the dogs got it all.”

The other twin. Monty, the one who liked cows. He looked more aggressive than Hen, but what could you say in favor of anybody who actually
liked
longhorns, the most ornery beasts in God’s creation?

“I suppose you had a reason for wanting their attention so badly,” George said.

His father should have named him Solomon, she thought. He’ll probably offer to divide
me
down the middle to keep peace in the family.

“I most certainly did,” Rose said, abandoning all her preconceived notions about George or his family. If she had to fight for some degree of consideration, she might as well start right now. They would know she expected to be treated as a human being.

“If I’m going to cook and clean and wash for this family, I expect a few courtesies in return.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t expect to be ignored. I don’t presume to tell anyone
what to say, but
Good day
will do when nothing else comes to mind.

“Secondly, I expect each of you to wash and change your shirt before you come to the table. You expect the food to be fresh and good-smelling. I don’t see why you can’t be, too.”

“You’ve got to be crazy,” Monty protested. “I’m worn to the bone when I get in. I don’t have time for washing and changing my shirt.”

“Nor does he have a clean shirt,” Hen added in an under-voice.

Monty gave his brother an evil look but said nothing.

“Any more requests?”

“Yes. I expect everyone to remain standing until I’m seated. And wait for the blessing before they eat. After that, the food will be passed to the right so everyone can have their chance at each dish without reaching across the table or yelling. You will eat with the manners I’m sure you were taught. And the dogs will be left outside.”

“I’m not sitting still for that,” Monty exploded.

“I told you not to bring a woman here,” Tyler said. “I don’t mind doing the cooking.”

“But we mind doing the eating,” Jeff reminded him.

“The woman stays,” Monty said, “but she doesn’t rule the roost.”

“The
woman
has a name,” Rose snapped from between clenched teeth. “And if you wish to eat at this table again, you’ll learn what it is.”

“You voted to hire a housekeeper,” George said. “It’s up to you to make it work.”

Rose spun on her heel to face George. “You
voted?
”

“George kept telling us how he had to take responsibility for the family because he was the oldest,” Monty explained. “So Hen and I told him if he was so hot to be responsible, he could find somebody to keep the place clean. I don’t like taking orders from him, but an agreement is an agreement.”

“I feel the same,” George said, turning to Rose. “And you agreed to cook.”

“Not unless my conditions are met.”

His stare nearly unnerved her. She wanted to hide, say anything to make him look away, but she knew if she didn’t win now, she’d never win. Besides, the new look in his eyes had overcome the anger. It had softened it as well.

“Politeness, good manners, and a wash before coming to the table,” George said.

“And the dogs left outside,” Rose added. She wasn’t satisfied with George’s condensation of her expectations, but she didn’t want to push the point too far. She wanted a good deal more, and at the moment she was mad enough to do just about anything to get it. Still, it might be better if she got an agreement in principle now and worked on the details later.

“What about tonight?” Monty asked. “I’m still hungry.”

Rose started to refuse, but one look at George changed her mind. It seemed he intended to consider her demands, but he clearly expected food in the end.

“If you’ll sweep up this mess, I’ll see if I can’t get something ready in about an hour.”

“Us!” Tyler exploded. “You threw it on the floor.”

“Not much left to sweep up,” Hen observed. “At least the dogs have a full stomach.”

“If I have to clean up this mess, they’ll be the only ones with a full stomach.”

Monty. He had the worst temper.

“I don’t think we began very well,” George said, the look in his eyes more intense. “I suggest we start over again and attempt to forget this.”

“I’ll not forget it, and I’ll not clean up her mess,” Monty insisted.

“You’ll do both,” George said, “or you won’t eat.”

Their gazes locked, two strong men, two stubborn men. Monty didn’t look away, but he made no move to defy George.

“We’ve been inexcusably rude,” George stated, looking from
one to the other. “I, unfortunately, have been the rudest of all. How can I expect you to be polite to Rose when I didn’t have the courtesy to introduce her to you?”

“They all started eating before you got here.”

Zac again. Rose couldn’t tell if he meant to placate George or accuse him of being slow to come to the table.

George ignored him.

“This is Rose Thornton,” George said. “From Austin. She has agreed to keep house for us. This is Thomas Jefferson Randolph,” he said, indicating the shyest of the Randolph boys. “Jeff and I fought together in Virginia. We don’t know what happened to James Madison Randolph, but you’ll know him when you see him. He looks like a cross between me and Zac. The twins are James Monroe Randolph and William Henry Harrison Randolph. They took care of the ranch during the war. They’re a little wild, but they won’t leave you to stand alone. That sour-faced long drink of water is John Tyler Randolph. He doesn’t look like anybody. Doesn’t like much of anybody either. That little scamp making sure he’s on the right side of my temper—”

“I’m not little,” Zac protested.

“—is Zachary Taylor Randolph, the youngest and last of the Randolph boys. I don’t know what Pa would have done if he’d had any more sons. He had run out of Virginia presidents.”

Rose didn’t dare laugh. Being saddled with presidential names must have been a serious hardship for growing boys. No wonder Hen and Monty used nicknames.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” Rose said, making an attempt to smooth over the rift. “Believe it or not, I’m usually rather mild-mannered.”

No laughs, not even a smile. Just silent, stoic, forced acceptance. Oh well, they had to begin somewhere.

“Hen, you and Jeff set up the table and chairs,” George directed. “Zac, you and Tyler clean up the floor. Monty, the dogs are yours so you get rid of them. I’ll clear away the broken dishes. All of you will be washed and wearing a clean shirt
when you come back. And you’ll eat like you were brought up to eat.”

“I’ll be damned if I will,” Monty stormed, his temper flaring as quickly as it had subsided. He whistled to the dogs as he stomped out of the room. The animals weren’t quite through, but Tyler got a broom and soon convinced them they’d be happier outside.

“Sure don’t see any need to wash the floor,” Zac said as he picked up a bucket to get some water. “It’ll just get dirty again.”

“No, it won’t,” Rose said. “You’re going to scrape your boots next time you come inside.”

“Do you mean to take all the pleasure out of eating?” Hen asked.

“Would you have come to your mother’s table reeking of horses and tracking mud all over?”

Hen made no reply, but Rose could tell she had unwittingly touched on a sensitive subject. Nothing about Hen seemed to change, but his expression became set in stone. Rose made a mental note not to mention the late Mrs. Randolph until she had a chance to ask George about his mother.

She looked at him gathering up broken bits of plate and glass. She couldn’t tell what thoughts were going through his mind, but she saw a fairness in him, a willingness to support her because he felt she was right. He didn’t seem pleased, but then he didn’t seem angry anymore. He just didn’t seem to feel anything.

Didn’t the man have emotions?

Oh well, she didn’t have time to worry about that just yet. She had a meal to fix. She’d think about him tomorrow, but George Washington Randolph was a puzzle she intended to solve very soon.

George felt the last of his anger ebb away. He hadn’t expected Rose’s arrival to be without incident, but he’d never expected her to defy the lot of them the first night.

Her actions had surprised and angered him. They’d also
offended his sense of what was suitable behavior for a proper female. It infuriated him that anyone would treat his family like a pack of mannerless ruffians. They were Randolphs of Virginia, related to governors, college presidents, cabinet ministers, a Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, a United States president.

Even Robert E. Lee.

Who was she but the daughter of some Yankee officer, a girl he had rescued out of the kindness of his heart? It would serve her right if he sent her packing. He wouldn’t be dictated to by a woman he had hired to cook and keep house.

But the way she looked at him when he entered the room had melted much of his anger. She was as mad as a cornered bobcat, but she was also scared of what he would do, what he would say, what would happen if he turned her off. But she hadn’t backed down. As with Luke Kearney, she knew how she wanted to be treated, and she wouldn’t settle for less. He had to admire her courage.

He couldn’t hold her defiance against her. His determination to keep a safe distance had caused him to be thoughtlessly rude. He had meant to be late. He thought he would be less affected by her presence if the boys were already at the table.

He had gotten that one wrong.

When he saw them ranged against Rose, he had wanted to protect her, to shield her with his body. He had to consciously stop himself from taking her into a protective embrace.

The strength of his feelings had so surprised him, he had wanted to withdraw, to let them fight it out while he got himself under control. But doing that had caused the present trouble. He had no recourse but to find a way to be fair to Rose, to be objective about his brothers, and to keep his feelings under control. He had done it in the army. It was hard with his brothers. Harder with Rose.

The men under his command hadn’t looked at him out of soulful eyes, engaged his chivalry by their helpless condition,
or aroused his physical need with the alluring curves of their bodies.

Playing peacemaker between Rose and his brothers was different. He’d have to explain to the boys how she must feel. They were basically good. He was certain they would try to change their attitude if they just understood.

In the meantime he would talk to her.

She didn’t know how hard they tried. She couldn’t. Not without understanding what they had gone through, being torn from the familiarity of their Virginia home and abandoned in the alien world of south Texas. Not without understanding the shock and terror of being left to run a ranch in bandit-infested country where they had to kill just to stay alive. Not without understanding the pain and rage of seeing their gentle, aristocratic mother die, deserted and nearly destitute, in a wild and savage land she could never like or understand.