“Fräulein,” he said in a subdued tone, “you must sit down before I speak of vat I haf discovered.”
Fear clutched at her heart, clenching her stomach and weakening her knees until she had no choice but to sit in one of the chairs by the table. “What is it? N–not Rachel?” She barely whispered the dreaded words.
“I feel so sorry that I must inform you, Fräulein—there is a grave with a marker. I do not read English goot, so I cannot say vat is the vords.”
Rosemary couldn’t bear to hear his halting words any longer. She jumped to her feet. “Show me, Heinrich. Just show me what has you so upset.” Without waiting for him to lead the way, she rushed out the door toward the well, ignoring his cries. “Fräulein, vait! You should not go alone.”
But it was too late. She ran a few yards past the well and came to a sudden stop. A wooden marker was half-buried in the ground.
Tears stung her eyes. She knew. Deep down, she knew who rested in the grave. Dropping to her knees, she slowly raised her gaze and read.
1875–1895
Rachel Tate
Beloved wife and mother
Rosemary fell across her sister’s grave. Deep, guttural sobs exploded from her.
“Rachel!” she screamed as the pain grew too unbearable for one human heart to handle. “Rachel!” Her sister’s smile taunted her as an apparition in the deepest recesses of her mind. Every smile, every laugh, every tear. Every whispered dream and heartbreak shared in secret—they all paraded through her memory until she thought she might go insane.
Agony wrenched the cries from her throat, and when she had no more voice, she cried silently until the tears stopped flowing altogether.
Chapter Four
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Rosemary lay across her sister’s grave for what seemed like hours. She had no will to move, not even when she heard Heinrich speaking to the animals.
Spent, weary, sick at heart, she began to think about Rachel’s child and husband. A sense of responsibility for those Rachel had loved weighed upon her heart.
Finn obviously hadn’t left for good. He had allowed the house to become uninhabitable by all standards of decency, but beyond that, it was just a matter of waiting for him to return from wherever he had gone. Then she would confront him with the condition of his home. There was no grave marker for a baby and no mention of a child on Rachel’s marker. Considering those facts, and the soiled baby things she’d found inside, Rosemary could only surmise that the baby had lived.
Despite all the uncertainty surrounding her new lot in life, there was one thing she knew without question: her sister would expect her to make sure the baby was cared for. Pulling herself up from the earth, she felt strong arms raise her to her feet. “Thank you, Heinrich,” she barely managed through a swollen throat. He handed her the handkerchief she had returned to him earlier.
“Let’s get you back into the vagon, Fräulein. I take you back to Agnes. She vill know how to make you feel better.”
“Oh, Heinrich, I’m not going anywhere. How can I?” Rosemary’s lungs shuddered as she tried to remember what a normal breath felt like. “I have to be here for my sister’s baby. When Finn gets back, we’ll decide what is best. It’s the least I can do for Rachel.”
Heinrich looked conflicted. “I must leave soon, to tend my own chores at home. Please, you should return vith me. My Agnes, she vill holler, ‘Vhy did you not bring Fräulein back vith you, Heinrich? You are a fool man vith no brains.’ ”
He looked so forlorn, Rosemary couldn’t help but smile.
“Tell her I’m the one without brains and that I refused to return with you.”
He shook his head, but Rosemary knew he was resigned. “She vill not believe me.”
“I will be fine if you’ll help me split some wood before you go?”
“This I haf done while you…” His voice trailed off and he glanced toward Rachel’s grave.
For the first time, Rosemary noticed the smell of smoke. “You built a fire already?”
He nodded.
His thoughtfulness brought another rush of tears to her eyes. “Thank you, Heinrich. I’ll be fine from here on. Even if Finn doesn’t return for a couple of days, I can make do. I have the strudel and the bread and jam your dear wife sent. The cow will give me milk, and there are chickens for eggs.”
Heinrich still frowned, but he gathered a breath and exhaled, lifting his shoulders. Clearly, the man wasn’t convinced by her reassurance.
“I have more than enough work to keep me busy for quite some time.” She stepped inside the house as if to prove her point. “Don’t you agree?”
“Ja. There is much vork to do here. But you should not be alone, Fräulein. It is not safe.” He frowned. “Do you haf a gun?”
Rosemary hadn’t even considered protection, but now that Heinrich brought it up, she nodded. “I have Pa’s six-shooters in my trunk and plenty of bullets.”
“Please, get them before I go. I vish to be assured they are goot.”
After Heinrich had inspected the pearl-handled pistols and assured himself that they were loaded and ready to protect her from harm, he reluctantly headed outside. Rosemary followed him to his wagon. She would keep her chin up and not dissolve into the tears that threatened.
“You vill make me promise, ja?”
“Not until I know what it is.” She smiled.
“If Herr Tate does not return in one veek, you get horse from the barn and come back to Agnes and me.”
She hated to admit it, but if Finn didn’t return within a week, it most likely meant he wasn’t coming back. With this in mind, Rosemary agreed. “I promise.”
He patted her shoulder awkwardly and nodded. “Goot,” he said, climbing onto the wagon seat. He gathered up the reins and looked down at her. “Perhaps Agnes, she vill not take the broom to my back for leaving you alone.” He winked.
She watched him leave, vaguely aware of the dog sitting at her feet, his body pressed tightly against her thigh. Absently she reached down and scratched his head. “Well, boy, I guess I’d better get busy. That pigsty isn’t going to clean itself.”
After three hours of backbreaking work, she stopped long enough to take a loaf of bread from the basket Agnes had sent. She eyed the strudel but couldn’t bring herself to enjoy a treat while she mourned Rachel. After a quick meal of bread and milk, she returned to work. At dusk, she took the oil lamp from the stove. She had just replaced the globe when the dog’s barking alerted her. She grabbed a pistol in one hand and the lamp in the other and stepped outside.
A man had dismounted and held his horse by the reins, walking it toward the barn.
“Hold it!” she called out. “Step into the light of the lamp.”
Even in the twilight, she could see him raise his hands. “No need to be afraid,” he called. “What are you doing in the Tates’ homestead?”
“That’s my business,” she said, keeping her eyes on the approaching form. “That’s far enough. I can see your face now.” And that’s all she needed to see. Pa had taught her that a man’s intention always showed in his eyes before he made a move.
The man’s eyes narrowed and his chin jutted forward. Then his jaw dropped. “Miz Tate? But how can that… It ain’t possible. Is it?”
At least that clued Rosemary in that he probably wasn’t a threat. “Mrs. Tate was my sister. I’ve just arrived today from Kansas.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. But she…” His gaze slid toward the grave.
“I know.” Rosemary’s voice was still hoarse, but she had found Rachel’s stash of tea and honey and was starting to regain a little volume. “I saw the marker.” She tucked the pistol inside the band of her skirt. “My name is Rosemary Jackson. And you are?”
“Silas Freeman. I’m Finn’s neighbor.”
“Can you tell me what happened to my sister, Silas? And where are her husband and the child?”
Apparently realizing she wasn’t going to shoot him, Silas relaxed. His eye
s showed his sadness. “The wife and I thought a lot of Rachel. She just never got strong again after the baby came. I don’t know the whole story, but the weather was too bad for Doc Richards or one of the women to help when the time came. Finn did the best he could, but not long after the baby came, Miz Tate got a high fever and it just never went away.”
Rosemary’s lips trembled as she fought back tears. “When was that?”
“Couple, maybe three months back. I’m real sorry, ma’am. It must have been hard to come up on the place like this—not knowin’ and all.”
If only she had been here for Rachel, perhaps she would have lived. She gathered a deep breath to compose herself then looked Mr. Freeman in the eyes. “Where are Finn and my sister’s child?”
Silas shrugged. “I don’t know, ma’am—er—miss. I’m sorry, but you look just like her.”
“Yes, I know. And it’s ‘miss.’ But if you’re here, I assume it’s because Finn asked you to feed the animals and tend his chores?”
“That’s exactly right.” He shoved his thumb toward the east. “My homestead is yonder, connected to this one. I expected he’d be back by tonight. I came by because I needed to speak with him.”
“Finn is blessed to have such good neighbors close by.”
“We filed our claims within a couple days of each other. My missus was close to Miz Tate.” He shook his head. “I was sure hopin’ to find Finn back here, though. Annie is hankerin’ to pull up stakes and head back to Missouri.”
“You mean sell out?” Rosemary had been raised by a rancher always looking to acquire more grazing land. The fact that a man was leaving 160 acres meant there was that much land for the taking.
“Your sister’s passing hit her real hard. You see, she’s havin’ her first baby too, and now she’s afraid that…” He averted his gaze, clearly uncomfortable with the subject and maybe a little afraid himself of the uncertainty of childbirth.
Rosemary set the lantern on the ground in front of the door. “I understand.”
“Anyway, I might have to leave for a few days to take care of business, but I can’t leave Finn’s chores unattended after I told him I’d look after things.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m perfectly capable of milking a cow and feeding a horse and stealing eggs from chickens.”
Even in the dim light of a waning sun, Rosemary recognized the relief that crossed his face. “I’d be obliged.”
“May I be so bold as to ask—are you planning to sell the land?”
He scowled. “We still have two years left before we prove up, so it ain’t really ours. I guess it never will be now.”
Rosemary stifled a gasp. “But would you really leave, then? You must have cleared a lot of the land and…” She couldn’t even fathom the choice this man was contemplating. One hundred sixty acres of land for nothing more than to live on the property for five years and building a home… It just seemed foolish to squander three years of hard work and living. Women had been having babies since the beginning of time. The very idea irritated her to no end. What sort of foolish wife did he have at home?
“I might not have a choice.” He frowned. “A man can’t just turn his back on his wife. She’s seen an awful lot of hardship and says she don’t think she’ll want to raise her family up here.”
An idea began to form in Rosemary’s mind, and she thought of the bank draft she carried for Rachel and Finn. Now that the baby had come, Finn had an heir. If he wanted to prosper the way her pa had prospered and leave something to his child, he would need more land than he currently homesteaded. She glanced up at Mr. Freeman. “So I take it you’d just pack up, lock, stock, and barrel. Is that right?”
His gaze narrowed. “Why do you ask?”
She shrugged. “Maybe Finn would buy you out and expand his property. You said it was just the homestead over, right? He could lease the land from you during the next two years, and when it’s yours he could buy it outright.”
He twisted his hat between his hands and shifted from one leg to the other. “I don’t know, miss. That might not be right.”
Right? Was this man daft? She was suggesting a way he could profit from leaving, keep his wife happy, and allow Finn the opportunity to expand his homestead. “Well, surely you wouldn’t want to leave the fruits of all your hard work to some stranger who might do who knows what with it, would you? And why should Finn have to wait a full five years to own the land if you’re willing to lease it to him in the meantime?”
A frown creased the farmer’s brow, and he cleared his throat. “I reckon whatever business happens between me and Finn is our business.”
Pasting on a smile, Rosemary nodded. Manly pride was setting in. She could see it a mile off. It was the same pride that had stopped her pa from handing over the ranch to her and instead selling it to the neighboring ranch. The only way to assuage a ruffled male ego was to be the soft-spoken woman that made him feel good about himself. “Of course you’re right. Any business you have with Finn should be between the two of you, Mr. Freeman.” She reached for the door. “I’ll let you get to the chores so you can get on home to your Annie.”
“It was mighty nice to meet you,” Silas said, tipping his hat.
“Likewise.” As he turned, she called after him. “Mr. Freeman? Have you ever tried apple strudel?”
“Only when the preacher comes through. The German women make it for the gatherings.”
“Well, it just so happens that I’ve learned to make it from Frau Fischer. And I have some with me. Can I interest you in a slice?”
“Well…I don’t know….”
“Please, it’s the least I can do for the kind neighbor who was willing to do his own chores and then come by and do another man’s as well.”
Mr. Freeman smiled. “Well, it’s my pleasure to help out ol’ Finn, but if you insist, I’d be pleased to accept.”
“Fine. Come and knock on the door when you’re finished with the chores and I’ll have plenty wrapped up for you to take home to your wife.”
“Thank you, ma’am—I mean, miss. Sorry again.”
“Please don’t think anything of it.”
Rosemary watched him walk toward the barn, her mind racing with possibilities. It wasn’t that she’d want the couple to lose their home without good reason. But if Mrs. Freeman had a desire to leave and her husband was willing to let her do it, then opportunity was presenting itself. And Pa had taught her long ago that one never passed up a good opportunity—at least not in business. The least she could do for Rachel was to look after the interests of her child, and that was precisely what she intended to do.
Chapter Five
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Finn Tate knew he had no business bringing his baby girl back home. He had set out to go home after learning that Rosemary was coming, but the more he thought about his sick baby girl and the state of his house, the more he realized that the best thing he could do for Sarah would be to find her a good home with a ma who would love her the way Rachel would have. And he’d intended to do just that, as soon as the doctor examined his Sarah and assured him she would be all right.
He’d gotten them an inexpensive room over the saloon and had taken her to see the doctor that morning—actually, he had taken her for the past four days, each day expecting the doctor’s return. But the doctor had had unexpected difficulty with his wagon, and the three-day trip had lengthened into a week-long ordeal. And by the time the doctor encouraged him to keep trying to get the milk down her and pray she grew to tolerate it better, Finn realized he couldn’t let go of his little girl. He just couldn’t do it. Not his Sarah Rose, his beautiful little girl, named for his mother and Rosemary.
That was another chore he had put off—writing a letter to Rachel’s sister. He’d never really liked Rosemary that much. For all she looked like Rachel, the sisters couldn’t have been more different. Rosemary had a habit of saying whatever came to mind, and if she didn’t say it out loud, th
e expression on her face told a person exactly what she thought. He figured she’d be giving him an earful as soon as he saw her again.
If she had gone to the homestead that day as the freighter had indicated, she most likely would have turned straight around and gone back to the Fischers’ home. He’d have to drive over there in a few days and tell her about Rachel. Let her see Sarah and send her back to Kansas or anywhere she chose. Anywhere but here. He couldn’t bear to see her face every day and think of his wife.
Rachel was like a soft rose with gentle ways and quiet demeanor, while Rosemary was more like the wild roses that grew between the rocks and in the rough ground. But as much as he had not been looking forward to Rosemary coming to live with them after their pa finally passed on, Finn would have gladly endured her presence for the rest of his life to keep Rachel by his side. Wishing and regretting held no power to bring his wife back. The most he could do now was go back to the homestead and try to raise his daughter the way Rachel would have wanted.
At the fence marking the Freemans’ property, Finn thought he might stop by and have a word with Silas, to find out how the animals were faring and to let Silas know he had returned, but the thought of facing anyone right now just seemed to require more effort than he had strength for.
He reached into the basket and felt the warm little body beneath the hand-stitched quilt. Sarah Rose squirmed a little at his touch. Love swelled inside of him until it threatened to burst through his chest. He’d begun the ride home determined that he would be the best pa Sarah could have. The pa she deserved. As his mind wandered to home, shame filled him.
The soddy.
Rachel had kept the place spotless despite dirt floors and walls. She had added rugs and little hangings on the wall and crocheted coverlets for the chair. A tablecloth for the table. She loved the summer’s wild roses that bloomed all over the fields. Knowing how she loved them, Finn had made sure a bouquet graced the table all summer long each of the three years they’d homesteaded.
Now, he never wanted to see another wild rose as long as he lived. And that included Rosemary.
Love Finds You in Wildrose, North Dakota Page 4