Summer Rose

by Bonnie K. Winn

  “…and right-of-way deeds.” Victoria jabbed her sharply in the side, and Cassie straightened up.

  “What did I miss?” Cassie whispered.

  Victoria rolled her eyes and mouthed, “Not much.”

  “The petition on water rights that we’re sending to the governor is on the table at the back of the room. Everybody make sure to sign it before you leave.” The mayor stared pointedly at Cassie, and she flushed under the intense regard of those surrounding her. So now they were going to petition the governor, were they?

  Murmurs of agreement filled the hall, and after a few more remarks the mayor adjourned the meeting. Shane moved away to speak with friends, and Cassie stood alone.

  “Think you’d better change your mind about selling out, missy?” Jacob Robertson’s hissing voice came over Cassie’s shoulder, and she whirled around to face him.

  Cassie drew up her courage as she straightened herself to her full height. “I think not, Mr. Robertson.”

  “Then you’d better think again.”

  Cassie almost flinched at the raw hatred painted across his face.

  “Wouldn’t want to see you have an accident like your uncle’s,” he said with a sneer. Before she could reply, he turned and left.

  “Entertaining the town’s finest?” Shane asked, reappearing at her side.

  Cassie tried to regain her composure. Shane had developed the most annoying habit of reading her thoughts at the most undesirable times. She pretended to dig in her reticule as she answered, “Is he part of your finest?”

  Shane uttered a contemptuous laugh. “Guess every town has to have a no-account like Robertson just to kick up dust.”

  “Is he a troublemaker?” Cassie tried to sound casual, but Shane’s perception was immediate and accurate.

  “Why all the questions?”

  “No reason…” Cassie started to mumble.

  Shane left her no room to escape. He tilted up her chin and met her gaze directly. “No hidin’ under the brush, Cassie. I want to know why he’s bothering you.”

  “Just a lot of suspicions, nothing really solid.”

  “Like what?”

  “About Uncle Luke.”

  “What about him?” Shane’s face had taken on that hard, closed look it always did when he spoke of her uncle.

  Cassie’s voice was low and direct. “About how he died.”

  “He fell—seems pretty simple and clear-cut to me.”

  “Does it? How do you explain why an expert horseman suddenly falls off a cliff on his own land, land he’s scoured every inch of for years? And what about his dog? Isn’t it terribly coincidental that a surefooted herding dog slipped at exactly the same time? Even I don’t believe a dog’s devotion extends to leaping to its death to join its master.”

  She stopped abruptly as Shane let out a long breath. “Whew. I’d say you saved that up for a while.”

  Cassie swallowed convulsively, nibbling on her lower lip as she did. “I have been doing some thinking about it.”

  “I won’t try and talk any sense into that hard head of yours.” His voice turned sharp. “Plenty of people hated Luke Dalton enough to kill him, but the fact is it was an accident. Won’t do any good to stir things up now. I’d say you have your hands full of your own problems.” She started to protest, but he cut her off. “And now we’re getting out of here.” Shane took her hand in his and led her from the still milling group in the meeting hall.

  She tried not to speculate about why he so readily dismissed her concerns. Was it because he had more reason to cover up her uncle’s death than anyone else?

  But as he tugged her forward, she loosened her grip on her fears. A reluctant smile played on Cassie’s lips as she let Shane carve a path to the door. She really didn’t want to fight him tonight. Her battle quota was full for the week. Once outside, he tucked her firmly at his side.

  “I expect Millicent can find her own way home,” Shane began.

  “But…”

  “And I imagine Ringer will thank us for not interfering.”

  Knowing he was right, Cassie relaxed beside Shane’s sinewy frame. While independence had been a hard-fought battle, right now a lost skirmish seemed very trivial compared to the anticipation she felt merely walking down the boardwalk with Shane. Cassie knew she was a fool, but even as she completed the thought, the touch of his hand sent a path of liquid fire through her body.

  They paused beneath a canopy of birch trees and then emerged under the inky stillness of the sky. As they moved forward, each star seemed to burst forth, brighter than the last.

  “There’s your star,” Shane murmured as “Cassie’s star” came into sight.

  Cassie found herself melting inside bit by bit. “So it is. It seems to me we’ve neglected to do something.”

  “And what’s that, Cassie darlin’?”

  Her breath caught at the casual endearment. She moved away slightly to regain her equilibrium.

  “We haven’t found your star.”

  In spite of himself, Shane’s eyes softened and he pulled her into the circle of his arms.

  “So we haven’t. Which one will it be?” But instead of looking at the stars, he traced a path lightly over her eyelids, her cheeks, and finally her lips. The bones in Cassie’s knees seemed to have disappeared as he worked his magic. She remembered his glances during the meeting and wondered if he was thinking of their last shared caresses. The heat coiled tightly in her stomach, moving downward, making her weak.

  “I kind of like that one,” Shane murmured.

  Cassie’s mind felt like a hollow log. What was he talking about? She followed the line of his arm as it pointed skyward. The star! She was going to have to get a grip on her feelings, she chastised herself, starting to straighten up from his embrace.

  “And this one,” Shane continued, gently easing his lips over hers.

  Cassie’s thoughts swirled like leaves in a whirlpool, and getting her emotions under control no longer seemed possible or even desirable. As Shane’s kiss deepened, so did his hold on her heart. For all the reasons she had decided he couldn’t be hers, she wanted him still. And suddenly she wanted those barriers erased.

  The hard line of his body beckoned her closer, and she found herself wanting to dissolve into him, wanting him to carry her away…

  As his body eased gradually away from hers, Cassie felt a sharp pang of disappointment and loss.

  “We seem to have a habit of finding the darnedest places,” he murmured dryly in her ear, pointing to the couple passing across the street.

  Cassie immediately straightened her hat and tried to smooth down the rumpled fabric of her dress.

  “It’s probably a little late for that.” He laughed at her horrified expression. “Don’t worry, it’s pretty dark out here.” Cassie still looked skeptical.

  Shane’s disappointment matched her skepticism. “I suppose I should be taking you home.”

  “I suppose so,” she murmured, echoing his disappointment.

  “But not before you promise to go to church with me on Sunday.”

  “Church?”

  “You do like to go to church, don’t you?”

  “Well, yes.” She hadn’t attended since the day she and Millicent had been ambushed. Millicent always invited her to go when Ringer picked her up, but Cassie had demurred. “It’s just that I’m so busy…”

  “Even God rested on the Sabbath, so no excuses. I’ll pick you up early Sunday.”

  Cassie felt a warm glow in her heart. A man seldom escorted a woman to church unless he was proud to be seen with her. Church seemed suddenly appropriate; it would take all her prayers to win this most important battle.

  35

  Sunday morning dawned sun-drenched and clear. Gazing into the impossibly lapis blue sky, Cassie couldn’t see anything to mar what she hoped would be a perfect day. She smoothed the already flawless line of her skirt for the hundredth time that morning, but she wanted to look special.

  The laven
der taffeta had always enhanced her unusual eye color, and so she saved it for special occasions. Like today. Her eyes softened as she thought of Shane. And she pushed aside her notions from the night before. Just because Shane wanted her land didn’t mean he’d go so far as to murder for it. But, her subconscious reminded her, someone had.

  As if in response to her thoughts, she spotted Shane’s buggy on the road, a wake of dust following its progress. Quickly she adjusted her hat, taking another peek in the mirror as she inserted the pearl-tipped hatpin that had been her mother’s. After a final searching look in the mirror, she was ready.

  She could scarcely wait until he reached the hitching rail. Then propriety alone kept her from flinging open the door and running to greet him. The seconds seemed excruciatingly long as he climbed down from the buggy, hitched the horse, and walked across the porch. Surprise lit his face when she opened the door the moment he knocked on it.

  “Prompt as always, I see,” Cassie began, a light dusting of pink staining her cheeks, revealing her embarrassment at seeming so eager.

  “No more than you.”

  “I wouldn’t want us to be late for the services.”

  “Nor I,” he replied in the same serious tone, his eyes alone showing his humor.

  Completely flustered, Cassie gathered up her reticule and parasol. “I’m ready.”

  Shane’s lips twitched and he bowed toward the door.

  “After you.”

  Cassie allowed Shane to help her into the buggy and then felt the vehicle lurch sideways as Shane climbed in. Glancing up at him beneath the brim of her hat, Cassie saw the amusement still flickering across his face. She started to give him a chastising glare when the humor of the situation struck her. She must have looked as if she’d been shot out of a cannon! Cassie ducked her head slightly to hide her sudden smile. She was surprised he wasn’t laughing out loud.

  The husky note in his voice when he did speak took her aback. “I don’t suppose it’s proper to kiss you before church.”

  “I don’t suppose so,” Cassie whispered in reply, feeling her body tingle all the way to her toes in anticipation.

  “A highly improper way to start the Sabbath,” Shane murmured.

  “Highly,” she echoed as the buggy seat suddenly seemed very small, and Shane’s body suddenly seemed terribly close.

  “We’d be the talk of the town,” Shane continued, his head tilting closer to hers.

  “The talk,” Cassie replied, feeling Shane’s breath dance across her cheek.

  “We’d probably never hear the end of it,” Shane continued, as his lips hovered a fraction from hers.

  “Never,” Cassie replied, not caring if her neighbors shouted the news from the rooftops.

  “In that case,” Shane said, straightening suddenly, “we’d best be on our way.”

  She blinked, and tried to get her bearings. Shane flicked the whip and started the horses off at a trot. Barely catching the edge of the buggy as they took off, Cassie shakily tried to straighten up, and instead nearly lost her seating again.

  “Better hang on tight. We don’t want to be late.”

  Cassie could have cheerfully choked him. If he weren’t whistling happily, she might have thought he’d been equally affected. Instead she felt like a rag doll on a bucking bronco, while he was as confident as a Boston banker.

  When they pulled into the churchyard, Cassie saw several heads turn in their direction in surprise. Firming her chin, Cassie hoped the meaning of the Sabbath would sink into her neighbors’ hearts.

  Shane helped her out of the buggy, and they started toward the door as Shane’s friends and neighbors greeted him. Nearing the entrance, Cassie felt someone tug hesitantly on her sleeve. She turned around and faced a woman whose four young children clung to her calico skirt.

  “Miz Dalton?” the woman questioned hesitantly.

  “Yes, I’m Cassandra Dalton.”

  “I’m Nellie Porter. My husband’s one of Mr. Lancer’s hands.”

  “Yes?” Cassie encouraged her, wondering what the woman wanted.

  “I hear tell you’re a schoolmarm.”

  “I was.” Cassie could feel the collective turning of heads nearby as people digested this information. “In Boston. But I’m not teaching now.”

  “I want for my young’uns to learn. Would you teach ’em?”

  The request flabbergasted Cassie. “You know I run a sheep ranch now?” The woman nodded her head. “I’d be more than happy to lend you some primers for your children, but I’m afraid I don’t have time to teach them myself. You could—”

  “I can’t read, Miz Dalton.” The woman’s voice was flat and expressionless, but Cassie could see the flicker of regret and embarrassment in her proud, lined face. “But I want my young’uns to have better. I want ’em to read and write and figger. We don’t have no school here ’cause we can’t get no schoolmarm to come and teach ’em.”

  Cassie felt her heart constrict with pity and admiration for the brave woman who stood in front of her, willing to confess her own lack of education if it meant bettering the lot of her children.

  “Perhaps once or twice a week after suppertime,” Cassie began hesitantly, wondering how she’d fit this into her already full days.

  “That’s right decent of you, ma’am. My Henry’ll work off what it costs at your place.” Cassie could almost feel the stir of disbelief in the crowd around them.

  “I’d not planned to charge you anything, Mrs. Porter…”

  “We don’t take no charity. From what I hear, you can use another man round the place.” The woman swallowed, fighting back a tear, Cassie suspected, but still the pride in her face was clear. “I’m mighty obliged to you. You need anything, you come to Nellie.”

  Before Cassie could respond, the woman turned and melted into the crowd that was entering the church.

  “That was a nice thing you did, Cassie.” Shane squeezed her hand and offered his arm. They made their way up the steps and into the church. Cassie wondered if she imagined a new dawning respect on the faces of her neighbors.

  They entered a pew and picked up hymnals to join in the song already in progress. As the strains of “Amazing Grace” filtered over her, Cassie’s eyes roved around the one-room building. She realized again how much she missed the camaraderie and fellowship of neighbors and friends, something she had taken for granted all her life.

  The song ended, and Cassie sank into the rock-hard pew. Shane slid a trifle closer than was entirely proper. Cassie stared at her own small hand engulfed in his large tanned one. Because she always wore gloves when working outside, her hand retained its ivory hue. The tingle of his fingers warmed hers in a new and wonderful way. She felt protected, cosseted, and wanted. Strangely, she needed all three. For the moment she needed to forget all that was not right between them.

  The first part of the sermon seemed to pass quickly, although Cassie didn’t hear much of what the Reverend Beecher said. As the moments slid by, she became increasingly aware of Shane’s lean length pressed close to her side.

  As the preacher droned on, Shane casually picked up her hand. He drew a path over her thumb, along her knuckles, and then over her palm. Each movement set off a series of minor explosions. Cassie wondered if he knew what he was doing to her as he continued the slow swirling motions.

  When the piano started playing “Nearer My God to Thee,” she jerked her hand away with a start. Her cheeks flaming, Cassie tried to concentrate on the words of the song. Without thinking, she raised her eyes to Shane’s and saw the desire lurking there.

  Cassie’s back was ramrod straight, her posture impeccable, her behavior beyond reproach. If not for the smile twitching at the corners of Shane’s lips, she would have been in control.

  When the closing prayer ended the service, everyone broke into the socializing that was as much a part of Sunday as the sermon. Cassie looked for renewed hostility and was surprised by tentative greetings from those who had snubbed her before. Could it b
e the news of her teaching credentials?

  One of the ladies she remembered from the engagement dance approached. “Potluck on the lawn at two o’clock, Miss Dalton.”

  The imperious tone made the words sound more like an order than an invitation, but at least it was an overture.

  Cassie stuttered, “Why, why…thank you.”

  The woman nodded her feathered hat and walked on. Cassie stared after her in amazement.

  “Dinner on the lawn, eh?” Shane’s voice lilted in her ear. “Fancy name for a piece of dirt with a few sprigs of grass on it,” he continued.

  “Right now it sounds heavenly.” Cassie didn’t see the amazement on Shane’s face as she responded to a few more greetings. Just heavenly.

  Millicent breathed a sigh of relief as she slipped off her corset and pulled on a cotton wrapper, knotting its sash around her waist. Ringer had left a few hours earlier, and she finally had some time to herself. They had agreed to meet at around four o’clock for a picnic dinner instead of going to the church potluck. Millicent hoped that meant Ringer wanted what she did: privacy.

  With the chicken fried to a golden brown, and the wicker basket packed, Millicent looked forward to her time alone.

  Picking up the hand mirror, she critically examined her face from all angles. Her eyes were reasonably attractive, and her face was shaped in an acceptable fashion, she decided. She failed to see the depth of her moss-green eyes or the exquisite bone structure she possessed. But what she did see were those blasted freckles that stared at her relentlessly. Millicent took a deep breath. Desperate times called for desperate measures. If she wanted romance, she needed clear ivory skin instead of splotches.

  Millicent stared at the newly gathered basket of strawberries at her side. She’d had a whale of a time keeping Cassie and Andrew out of the strawberry patch while they were growing, but now she had an important use for them.

  Her resolve hardening, she patiently sliced each strawberry in half lengthwise and laid them in a bowl of lemon juice. After they were all prepared, she poured fresh buttermilk from a pitcher into a separate bowl containing honey. Making a paste of the honey and buttermilk, she then smeared the concoction all over her face. While the mixture was still wet, she placed the strawberries, cut side down, all over her face.