Give My Love to Rose Page 4

  “Marston?” Rose called out and Marston found himself unable to do anything but turn back around and look into those big blue eyes.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Thank you for everything. Thank you for bringing my husband’s belonging back to us. You could have very easily kept them for yourself.” Marston was about to respond when she wiped a tear from her eyes and rendered him speechless with her next comment. “Thank God for you, Marston.”

  Marston didn’t know what to say. Why did these damn people keep thanking God for him like he was some kind of good man? It unnerved him and made his stomach burn and ache.

  He couldn’t come up with any kind of response so he simply tipped his hat and quickly slipped out the door as Langley demanded once again to know where his pa was. Marston had no urge to be there when the boy learned that the man was dead. He didn’t envy the news that Rose would have to break to him.

  Rose…A beautiful woman who confused him greatly.

  Was she that talented at hiding her lack of morals behind wide blue eyes and polite words? Or was it possible that she really had loved that old man he’d found on the road? No, surely not. A woman that beautiful didn’t waste her time on an old man. There had to have been some other reason she had married the man and judging by the running water in that cabin and the sack of money Langston had had—money had been it. Clearly Langston being sent to prison had disrupted the woman’s plans.

  Marston hoisted himself up onto the gray and pointed its nose toward town. It was late and the temptation of a hotel bed was too strong to ignore. He’d been spending too much time lately sleeping on bedrolls and the hard ground.

  ***

  Rose fell into bed that night exhausted beyond belief. Langley had taken the news about Langston fairly well but, then again, the boy had never met the man who had given him his name. The law had come and carted Langston off to prison for past crimes mere days after Langley had been born, leaving Rose alone to raise the boy.

  The money Langston had left them had lasted a while thanks to Rose’s frugality, but it had eventually run out. Rose had taken odd jobs sewing and doing laundry and she had sold off everything of value in the cabin but still it hadn’t been enough.

  She had been forced to take a loan against the cabin just to survive. A loan which she was now unable to repay and the banker was breathing down her neck and demanding payment while threatening to take her son’s home if he didn’t get it.

  “Damn you, Langston. You made me promises.. promises you didn’t keep,” she whispered into the darkness.

  It wasn’t his fault and she knew that. His intentions had been true and pure when he had asked her to marry him all those years ago and if he hadn’t come along when he had then she would very likely no longer be alive.

  Rose thought about that three hundred dollars in the sack that Marston had given them. She had no idea where Langston had gotten that money and she was afraid to think too deeply about it. She was too desperate to worry about the right and wrong of it. With that money she could make a payment to the banker, pay off the credit at the store and the blacksmith, refill their food supplies, buy feed and tackle for the horses and buy some fabric to make a few new outfits for Langley.

  She was hopeful she could do all that and still have enough to do a bit of repairs to the cabin and have a bit of money set back to fall on should she need it later.

  Marston…

  For some reason, that man and his golden eyes kept creeping into her mind. She wondered what kind of man he was. His eyes said he was a cold man—a sad man. Maybe even a dangerous one. But his actions said something different. He could have easily kept that money and horse for himself. And she had been unconscious most of the time he had spent at their cabin. He’d had plenty of chances to harm them and hadn’t—instead he’d cared for them and even cooked supper.

  Rose couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of her. She knew what most people thought of her. A twenty-seven-year-old woman married to such an old man—a man in prison. Everyone judged her and looked down upon her. If only they knew the truth…. But Rose would rather them believe their own assumptions than have the truth get out. The truth was too painful.

  The terror of her life before Langston was something she didn’t want to relive, even in conversation. The terrifying events that had led to Langston buying her out of the back of that wagon and the horrific truth that had led to Langston offering to marry her and give her son his name were shameful things that she didn’t want anyone knowing.

  Rose clung to her pillow and sobbed, wishing things could be different but thanking God for the blessing He had given her when Marston had come riding in with that money. At least now Rose could feed her son a little longer.

  Chapter Five

  Marston wondered what kind of damn town he’d wound up in! No, saloon? What kind of town didn’t have a saloon? Apparently a town just like Harper Louisiana. Damn, he needed some whiskey.

  All of these people thanking God for him and treating him like a good person had his head hurting and his stomach churning. Clearly the whole damn family had a few screws loose. A lot of people had accused Marston of being a lot of things in his life.

  Worthless.

  Bastard.

  Monster.

  But never Godsend. So why had Rose called him one?

  Rose. Rose. Rose. Why were his thoughts constantly going back to that woman? Why was he seeing that red hair and those blue eyes every time he closed his eyes?

  ‘Because you liked her.’ That nagging voice in his head informed him.

  “Well she was a beauty,” Marston replied with a shrug.

  ‘It was more than that.’ The voice insisted.

  “You don’t know a damn thing,” Marston growled, wondering why he was even listening to that damnable voice. “I don’t want or need anyone,” he added.

  Rose had simply been different than what he’d been expecting to see as Langston’s wife and so Marston had been surprised and couldn’t seem to get that off his mind—that problem was nothing a little whiskey wouldn’t fix.

  Marston slipped into his duster coat and headed out the door determined to find whiskey. The conversations Marston was having with that damn voice were getting ridiculous. It was starting to feel like maybe he was growing a conscience and that was a bad habit Marston was going to have to nip in the bud right here and now.

  He walked out of the hotel and onto the muddy road. Whiskey. Whiskey. Where could a man find some whiskey? Marston thought he remembered seeing some when he’d been at the H&H Mercantile. No doubt any whiskey they had would taste like rot gut and leave his head throbbing in the morning, but beggars couldn’t afford to be picky.

  The H&H Mercantile was currently closed and locked up for the night but a place being closed had never stopped Marston from taking what he’d wanted before. He wouldn’t let it stop him now.

  He smiled as he slipped through an unlocked window and realized that voice in his head was remaining silent. Apparently his newly found conscience didn’t see wrong with breaking and entering—at least as long as there was whiskey involved.

  ***

  Rose stood from the bed the next morning after a virtually sleepless night. She pulled on her nicest blue skirt and white long sleeved blouse—both beginning to fray and wear at the seams. She slid her brown leather belt around her waist and yanked her worn hole-filled ankle boots onto her feet.

  Maybe she could get a new pair of shoes today.

  She took the time to place her long red hair into a braid and then twisted the braid upon itself and secured it to the back of her head. She grabbed her bonnet off the bedside table and walked out into the main room of the cabin.

  Langley was awake and already had a fire going in the cookstove and water heated for Rose’s morning tea. “Thank you,” she said as she kissed his red hair and headed toward the cupboard. Her face fell when she saw the tiny amount of oats left in the jar. It looked like she would be going without brea
kfast today.

  Rose grabbed up the oats and a jar that was a quarter full of peaches. She went about cooking and heard Langley pull on his boots and head out the door. She opened the shutters so she could watch him walk to the barn. Rose knew he would be feeding the animals what little bit of food they had left for them.

  Rose refused to worry. Today she would be able to refill the food supplies for everyone. She simply wished that her son could be more of a child. He worked as hard as a grown man because, the truth was, Rose needed him to. She depended on him and all he did.

  Rose was just setting his bowl of oatmeal and peaches on the table when Langley stepped back into the house. He glanced at the single place set at the table and frowned. “Aren’t you gonna eat, mama?”

  Rose laid her hand over her stomach and shook her head. “I’m feeling a little green today,” she lied. Langley studied her hard a moment but then seemed to accept her response and sat down to eat. “When you’re done I need you to go clean up and get ready so we can head into town and get some supplies.”

  “With that money pa sent us?”

  Rose nodded as she busied herself wiping down the counter. She knew that money had not been honestly earned and everything in her rebelled against using it but what choice did she have? None. She had no choice.

  Rose left the house and went out to the barn. She took the brown mare from the stall and looked her over. It was a nice horse. Strong and healthy. Rose went about hitching her to their tiny cart.

  The rain clouds were gone and the sky was bright blue and perfectly clear. The sun was shining strong. It was going to be a hot one. Rose sighed as she walked back inside and then smiled when Langley came out of the water closet. His hair was damp, but he had on his best clothes and he was smiling proudly.

  “How do I look? I look nice don’t I, mama? Do I look like my pa?”

  Rose felt those horrible memories attempting to creep into her mind and she quickly pushed them back and smiled at her son. “You are the handsomest man in the world.” She thought of Langston. “Your pa would have been very proud.”

  “My pants are a little short,” he admitted. “Do you think I could get some new pants mama?”

  Rose laughed lightly when she looked toward his feet and realized that his pants were a good two inches above his ankles. “I think we can manage that,” she assured him. “And the good news is that if we hit a flood between here and town, your pants won’t get wet.”

  “It didn’t rain that much,” Langley insisted with a roll of his eyes and a giggle.

  Rose grabbed her bonnet off the counter and motioned toward the door. “Well good sir, your chariot awaits.”

  Rose’s hand paused momentarily over the sack of money as she fought an inner battle over whether to use it. There was no doubt in her mind that it was stolen money. But pride and right and wrong be damned, they needed that money! With a determined sigh, Rose grabbed the sack and followed her son out of the house.

  ***

  Marston rolled out of bed later than he had planned. An empty bottle of whiskey lay beside his bed and one hundred men with hammers were pounding away inside his skull. His mouth was bone dry and his tongue felt thick—it was as if he’d been chewing leather all night.

  He sat up and felt the sunshine through his eyelids. Marston had meant to be out of town before daylight. He shouldn’t have had so much whiskey but once he’d let that first drink pass his lips, memories of his past had come flooding in and so he’d drunk more to wash them away. Marston ran his hand over his beard covered face and clicked his tongue in an attempt to get some moisture back in his mouth.

  At least that voice in his head seemed to have been drowned and he’d been a full ten minutes without thinking about Rose…. Well, hell! There went that short reprieve. Already that woman was leaping into his mind and that, of course, made those tiny men with hammers pick up their pace.

  Marston stood slowly and cracked his eyelids so he could stumble his way to the washbasin. He splashed his face and cleaned off the back of his neck before tugging on his shirt. He put on his boots and hat, fastened his bandolier and strapped on his gun belt. His rifle was slung across his back and his knife was tied to his leg. Marston grabbed up his saddlebags and headed out of the hotel.

  Marston was making his way down the muddy street toward the livery when he caught a flash of red hair and turned to see Rose and Langley making their way into the mercantile.

  Without taking the time to think about the why of it, he let his feet lead him in their direction. He paused outside the doorway when he heard the conversation taking place inside.

  “Now Rose, we are aware that things are hard for you with trying to raise that boy by yourself. We are sorry about your husband’s death and we know you’re doing the very best you can working odd jobs, but we simply cannot let you have any more goods on credit. We are running a business, not a charity.” Marston recognized Hester’s voice and he could just imagine the way the sour faced woman’s eyes would be widening behind her giant spectacles.

  “Actually, Hester,” Rose spoke up. “I have the money to pay for everything on this list.”

  “Really?” Hattie’s voice broke into the conversation. “Did you rob a bank? One hundred pounds each of flour, sugar, and meal. Canned peaches, pears, and apples. A five-gallon bucket of lard. Twenty yards of fabric, shoes….”

  “I think the woman knows what’s on her own list, ladies,” Marston said good-naturedly as he strode into the store.

  Rose turned to look at him and her eyes widened. The man seemed to fill up every inch of space. His broad shoulders were accentuated by the saddlebags he had thrown carelessly over one of them. Rose found herself struck once again by his handsomeness and by his eyes. He was dressed exactly the same as he had been the day before and yet somehow something was different.

  Here in the mercantile he seemed more predatory than he had inside her cabin. There was a glint in his eyes as he stared down Hester and Hattie that hadn’t been in them yesterday—she also noticed that he seemed to be avoiding looking at her.

  Hester adjusted her glasses. “Well of course she does, sir, but we have to have money…”

  “What makes you think the lady doesn’t have money?” Marston asked. He tipped his hat to Rose and Langley without glancing their way as he made his way to the counter. He sat his saddlebags on the floor by his feet and leaned his bare forearms against the glass, lowering himself to the sister’s level.

  “My his eyes are something….” Hattie whispered, laying a hand over one watermelon sized breast. Rose shifted her feet awkwardly and wondered exactly what Marston thought he was doing.

  “Why thank you, Miss Hattie,” Marston replied with a smile. “Now back to the lady and her money. Am I correct in saying that you all are running a business here? A business folks come in and ask you for certain items and then you give them said items in exchange for money?”

  “I’m impressed,” Hester intoned dryly. “The outlaw knows the general workings of a store.”

  Marston smiled. “That’s right. Now the woman gave you a list. You fill her order and she’ll give you money. It should be a simple transaction.”

  Hattie shook her head sadly. “Yes, but this is nearly fifty dollars’ worth of goods and she owes us so much already….”

  “Did you fine ladies ever stop and ask the woman if perhaps she has the money to pay her debts?”

  Hattie and Hester gave Rose a disbelieving glance. “Do you Rose?” Hattie asked.

  “Yes I do,” Rose replied, her voice quiet as she picked at a string hanging from her bonnet.

  Marston grinned and swatted the counter with his big hand. “Glad that’s settled.” He picked up his saddlebags and stood straight.

  “It’s funny sir,” Hester noted, tapping her chin.

  “What is, ma’am?”

  Her lips pursed even more tightly. “My sister came in this morning to find that our whiskey had been looted and here you are this mornin
g smelling very much like a whiskey vat.”

  Marston’s grin just grew and her cow eyes bulged behind her glasses. “Mighty big coincidence, I’d say,” he stated. He tipped his hat to the sisters and then turned quickly only to find himself face to face with Rose. Well, not exactly face to face since the top of her head barely came halfway up his chest.

  “Thank you, Marston,” she said softly. “Again, I seem to be finding reasons to be grateful to you.”

  Marston wasn’t comfortable with her gratitude and he found his stomach rebelling once again. “Don’t mention it, ma’am,” he insisted. ‘Please!’ he added silently. “Y’all have a good day now,” he added and with that he looked away from those big blue eyes and left the mercantile.

  He stood outside, leaned against the post for several long moments to gather his thoughts. It just wasn’t right for a woman to be so damn pretty, gentle or innocent in appearance. All that soft pale skin and red hair stirred something deep within him—and that dainty white bonnet she’d had over her head had merely served to frame her soft face and cause her blue eyes to stand out that much more.

  Out of here. Out of here. Out of here. Marston Jacobs needed to get the hell out of here. No more doing favors for dead men was one lesson he’d certainly learned. He didn’t need the complication in his life. He strode off the porch and then heard tiny footsteps racing after him.

  “Marston wait!”

  Marston cursed under his breath and turned quickly, causing Langley to collide with his stomach. The boy bounced off and would have fallen if Marston hadn’t reached out and grabbed him by the arm. “You alright there, kid?”

  Langley nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine thanks to you. You sure saved my butt from being sore. You move fast for someone so big. I was just coming out to say thanks for what you did for my mom back there. Most folks don’t like her and that makes me mad. My mama works hard, but folks don’t care because she doesn’t have money. But we have money now thanks to you and my pa.”

  Marston nodded as he tried to take all that in and begged the bastards with hammers to give his head a rest. “Yeah, well, I gotta get going now, kid.”