White Owl (10 page)

The sun had already set by the time Rose rode over the ridge that led to her parents’ homestead. She had rehearsed her excuse over and over again, but even to her own ears, it was a feeble and unbelievable explanation. The idea of such a blatant lie made her feel sick to her stomach.

Now, as she watched her father and two brothers riding toward her, she braced herself for the onslaught of anger and accusations that she knew would come.

“Rosaline!” her father yelled as they approached. “We were just getting ready to head over to the agency to ask for help to look for you.”

“Where have you been?” Tate spat out. His narrowed gaze moved over her as he shook his head with disgust.

Donavan, dear Donavan, just looked relieved.

“I’m sorry,” Rose gasped, focusing her attention on her father. “I-I had a little accident, but I’m fine.”

They were all surrounding her now, and she hoped that the daylight had faded enough so they
couldn’t see the heat raging through her cheeks. Her father’s angry expression softened slightly.

“Are you hurt?” he asked gruffly. His gaze raked over her and as he realized that her dress was torn, the look of rage returned. “What happened to you, girl?”

Rose cringed. She had no doubt what he was probably thinking. Now she would discover just how good of a liar she really was. “I took a tumble from Molly, that’s all.” She tried to sound nonchalant. “I was exploring and—”

“You what?” Her father’s voice echoed through the air. “What is wrong with you, girl?” He shook his fist at Rose as Tate decided to give her his opinion, too.

“You are so stupid,” her twin hollered. “I think you are hopin’ them Injuns kidnap you.”

Although she had known what to expect, Rose had no energy left to fight with Tate. She looked back at her father and added, “I’m sorry that I worried you, Pa.” She thought about adding that it wouldn’t happen again, but that would just be another lie.

Her father was so filled with rage that he was unable to speak. He shook his head and muttered under his breath as he swung his horse around and rode back down the slope. Tate glared at her once more before he followed their father.

Rose exhaled a heavy breath and looked at Donavan. His sorrowful expression caused a sharp pain to rip through her chest as he looked at her.

“I’m really glad you’re all right, Rosie,” he said quietly. “Ma’s been real scared, too.”

Tears flooded her vision and burned trails down her cheeks.

Donavan gasped, “What is it, Rosie? Are you really hurt?”

She attempted to stop the guilty sobs as she shook her head vigorously. “I’m fine, Donavan. I just so feel bad that I made everyone worry.” The terrible guilt, combined with the overwhelming regret that she might not be able to see White Owl again, was almost more than she could handle and it was impossible to stop the tears.

Donavan moved his horse closer to Molly and reached out to pat her on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Rosie. Just don’t go ridin’ no more.”

The agonized sob that shook her body caused Donavan’s sympathetic gestures to increase and his gentle pats became more like slaps against her shoulder. Rose knew she had to get her emotions under control, and then she could figure out what she would do next.

“I’m fine, really,” she gasped as she took a deep breath. She gently pushed her little brother’s hand away from her shoulder. “I need to see Ma and tell her I’m sorry for making her worry.” She kicked Molly in the sides as she added, “Thanks, Donavan.”

He shrugged and nudged his horse down the incline. By the time they reached the bottom it was nearly dark, but Rose could see her mother waiting on the front stoop of the house holding a lantern.
Rose’s insides twisted into a tight ball. This was hopeless. She was going to hurt them all so badly. But after today, there was no way she could avoid it.

Donavan took Molly to the barn so Rose could go to her mother’s waiting arms. The tears that had started earlier had not stopped, and they only increased when her mother wrapped her arms tightly around her. “I’m so sorry, Mama,” she whispered into her mother’s ear.

“You’re here now, so nothin’ else matters,” Ma whispered back through her own choked voice.

They lingered on the porch for a moment longer before her mother pulled back and said, “Clean yourself up while I get you something to eat. Then, you can tell me what happened.”

Rose shook her head. “I’m not hungry—just tired. And there’s nothing to tell really. I rode too far, and then I fell off Molly and”—she motioned over her shoulder—“my dress got ripped. That’s all there is to it.” She glanced away from her mother as they entered the lighted interior of the house. The lie was not getting any easier to repeat.

“I’ll check your back for cuts and bruises,” Ma said as she reached out toward her daughter.

“No!” The word was harsher than Rose meant for it to be. “I landed in the grass. I’m not h-hurt.” That was almost too close to the truth. Rose turned away from her mother for fear that she would notice. “I’ll be in my room.”

To her surprise, her mother made no attempt to stop her. This made her feel even worse. Her poor
mother had been frantic with worry, and all she wanted to do was take care of her, but Rose had yelled at her instead. She threw herself on the bed facedown and tried to sort through her whirling thoughts. She loved her family, she did, but she couldn’t be here any longer. Not now—not after White Owl, because she loved him even more.

She rolled over and stared at nothing as the tears continued to fall. Now her thoughts and worries about her family were invaded by the memory of this afternoon. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, but it was his arms that she was remembering . . . White Owl’s powerful arms, his smooth, bronzed skin, the way his thick raven hair hung over his bare shoulders, his tenderness as he had taken her on the sensuous journey that transformed her from an innocent girl to a woman—his woman. Her mind became filled with so many sweet, passionate memories of their glorious afternoon. A slow ache worked through her entire body, and an incendiary flame settled in her loins. Nothing could keep her from going back to him.

Breakfast the next morning was strange and awkward. Everyone was polite, but nothing was said about the events of the day before. Rose kept waiting for the fight with her father and Tate to begin: the accusations about her selfishness from Tate and the reminder that she was disobedient and careless from her father. But they said nothing, and Rose grew nervous.

Even her mother was unusually quiet as they
cooked the morning meal of flapjacks and fresh eggs that Rose had gathered earlier from the hen-house. Her mother had asked if she was feeling better when she had first emerged from her room this morning, but that was it—no more questions from anyone else.

Donavan smiled tentatively at Rose as they all settled around the table, but before she could respond, he quickly looked away as if he had been instructed not to speak to her. Rose’s uneasiness increased.

“Me and the boys are headed over to the Richards’ place to check on that horse they have for sale,” her father said as he pushed his empty plate toward the center of the table. He glanced at his wife. “I trust you womenfolk will be safe if you stay close to the house.” He did not look in Rose’s direction, adding, “The shotgun is loaded.”

Rose glanced at the gun by the door as a sense of dread clutched at her breast. She opened her mouth to attempt to make amends about yesterday, but once again, she could not bring herself to make promises that she knew she would not keep. As her brothers and father departed, Rose was left alone with her mother and a chance to apologize. “Mama, about last night, I—”

“Rosaline,” Ma interrupted. “I’ve known you for more than eighteen years. I know there’s something goin’ on with you, and I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready.” She raised her hand up and shook her head when Rose tried to speak. “All I ask is that you don’t do something crazy to get yourself
hurt—or worse. I would never forgive myself, or your pa for that matter, if something happened to one of my children because of our decision to come out here to this wilderness. Sometimes I think we should have stayed in Denver.”

Rose hung her head and stared at the floorboards as her mother’s words spun through her mind. Finally, when she felt she could speak without choking up, she said, “I am sorry, Mother. I don’t intentionally want to hurt you or Pa.” She glanced up and looked into the blue eyes that mirrored her own, adding, “But we moved here because we wanted to be a part of this beautiful wild country. I want to explore every inch of it and learn everything there is to know.” She sighed. “I don’t know how to explain to you just how much I love it here. I thank the good Lord above every day that we didn’t stay in Denver.”

They stared at one another for a moment until Colleen sighed, too. “I was really hoping you wouldn’t say something like that, because it would make this all so much easier.”

Rose’s brows drew together. “What are you talking about?”

“Your pa and I were thinkin’ that maybe you might want to go back to Denver and stay with your Aunt Maggie for a spell and—”

“No!” Rose gasped. “Never. I wouldn’t go back to Denver.”

The look of surprise on her mother’s face went unnoticed by Rose as the idea of leaving White Owl brought her to the brink of hysteria. “Never!” she cried out again.

“It was just a thought,” her mother said. “I—we didn’t know, I mean, we just don’t understand why you insist on putting yourself in such danger.” She reached out in an attempt to soothe her daughter, but Rose backed away. “I’ll try to make your father understand,” she added in a worried tone.

Rose took a deep breath, trying to calm her frantic heartbeat. There was no way her family could send her away. If they even suggested it again, she would leave on her own. But she would not be going to her Aunt Maggie’s in Denver.

“I won’t go,” Rose murmured as she backed toward the front door. She twirled around and ran out of the house, not trusting herself to stay with her mother for another minute. She was too close to telling her mother exactly why she refused to leave here, and she knew that she could not blurt out her confession in the heat of anger. She would tell them when the time was right, but she hadn’t figured out when that would be yet.

The warmth of the morning sun heated her skin. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she blinked and angrily wiped them away before they had a chance to fall. The idea that she could leave here—leave him—was inconceivable. Her stomach twisted with the realization that she could not wait much longer to tell her family that she was in love with a Ute warrior. The opposing feelings of joy and terror made her knees so weak that she had to lean against the front porch rail for support.

Since there was only one place that she could go to think when she was this upset, Rose headed for
the barn. Being with Molly was always soothing. The interior of the barn was cool and dim. The smell of the hay and manure filled Rose with a sense of comfort and slightly eased her panic.

She needed to see White Owl and tell him what her parents were suggesting. But unless she really did want to destroy all chances of ever keeping peace with her family, she could not leave here again today.

Once Rose reached the stall where her little mare was munching on several strands of straw, she gave in to the despair that filled her heart. She sat on the stool in the corner of Molly’s stall and placed her head in her hands and let the agonizing sobs overtake her body. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she had been happier than she had ever imagined being; she had fallen in love and become a woman in every sense. But now she felt as though her entire world was caving in around her.

“White Owl,” she whispered through her tears. “I need you.” Molly whined softly, as if trying to comfort her, and Rose instinctively reached up to rub the mare’s nose. Molly snorted and whined again as Rose stood up and began to scratch behind her ears. “We have to go to him, Molly,” she whispered in the horse’s ear. “But we’ll wait until tonight after everyone is asleep.”

White Owl could not help himself. It was the most foolish thing he had ever done—up to this point in his life, anyway. At least the stupid dog had stopped barking and growling after only a couple minutes. It hadn’t even barked long enough to alert the occupants in the house. Now the dog was glued to White Owl’s side as if they were old friends. Its tail wagged every time White Owl even glanced in his direction. He snickered and shook his head; he hoped the Adairs were not counting on this animal to alert them to intruders, or they would be in dire trouble.