“Mrs. Franklin,” Finn said, feeling the need to defend Rosemary’s honor, “my sister-in-law is not a woman of loose morals. And while I will, no doubt, call on her as a brother calls on a sister from time to time, no, I am not courting her. My wife has only been dead for a couple of months, and I’m still grieving.”
“I see you are a gentleman.” She took his arm again as they slowly descended the stairs, taking them one at a time. “If Miss Jackson is all you say, I’m sure she will be the perfect tenant for that room.”
When they reached the foyer, Mrs. Franklin let go of his arm. “When may I expect the two of you?”
“Her things are still all packed away, so I imagine we can be here by lunchtime tomorrow.”
“I do not serve lunch, Mr. Tate.” She pointed to the list of rules on the wall. “Also, the supper meal is served promptly at six each evening, and there is an additional fee of twenty-five cents for anyone who wishes to join us.”
“I’m sure that’ll be fine.” He walked toward the door, relieved to have this particular chore behind him—but dreading the fact that Rosemary would probably pitch a fit.
“I wonder, Mr. Tate…,” Mrs. Franklin said, following him with a slow gait. “Why is your sister-in-law not returning to her people?”
“I’m afraid her pa passed on a few weeks ago. She and my wife had made plans for her to come live with us after he passed. He was ill for some time and death was imminent.”
“I see.” Her soft voice belied the harsh look so much that it was almost jarring. “So the poor dear lost her pa and her sister in short succession.”
He nodded. “But, clearly, she can’t stay at the homestead. I can’t continue to sleep in the barn every night, and people would begin to talk anyway. Her reputation might be sullied, and I can’t allow that to happen to Rachel’s sister.”
The old woman raised an eyebrow. “You could marry her.”
Her quick retort jolted Finn. “No, ma’am. I can’t.”
She shrugged her rounded shoulders. “Suit yourself. I’ll look for you tomorrow around noon.”
Knowing he’d been summarily dismissed, Finn opened the door and stepped onto the porch feeling more lighthearted than he had in a while at the thought of getting Rosemary out of his hair. But as he left the porch and stepped toward the wagon, a weight settled across his shoulders like a yoke and bore down heavier and heavier, the closer he got to the wagon.
Rosemary might very well refuse to leave. What would he do if his plan failed? He could never insist that she get out. But he couldn’t think that way. He’d go crazy if he tried to predict how Rosemary Jackson would react to anything.
Thankfully, Mrs. Morehouse was occupied when he arrived back at the general store to collect his supplies, so he was spared any more advice or questions or, heaven forbid, sympathy. Mr. Morehouse helped him load the wagon before he settled up inside. “We’ll see you again soon, I hope.”
Finn assured him that they would. He had turned toward the door when Mr. Morehouse stopped him.
“Finn,” the man said, placing a hand firmly on Finn’s shoulder.
“Yes, sir.”
“When was the last time you had a bath?”
Embarrassment shot through him at the personal subject, and he glanced over the storekeeper’s shoulder. Mrs. Morehouse turned away from him, her face red, and disappeared into the back room.
“Awhile,” Finn admitted.
Mr. Morehouse shoved his glasses up his nose and gave a half smile. He motioned toward a shelf on the far wall of the General Store. “Do yourself a kindness. Get a pair of those trousers over there and one of those already-made shirts and stop at the creek on your way home.”
Indignation shot through Finn. His first instinct was to thank Mr. Morehouse for the advice and walk out. Mercy, a grieving man ought to be given the courtesy of a few weeks of wearing a little extra dirt without being humiliated by folks he’d known for years. But the more he thought about it, the more he figured Morehouse was likely right. He looked the man in the eye and nodded. “I’ll take a blue shirt and a pair of trousers. I don’t suppose you have any soap that doesn’t smell like perfume, have you?”
Morehouse laughed. “We don’t sell it, but the missus has plenty left from soap making a few weeks ago. I’ll go back and cut off a chunk. No charge.”
* * * * *
Dreading the upcoming confrontation with Rosemary, Finn headed for the homestead at a much slower pace than he’d set for the trip to town. But he took the Morehouses’ advice, and though the air was cool, he stripped down and scrubbed the dirt from his body and hair. It took awhile to get completely clean, but he had to admit, he felt much better with clean clothes.
He climbed back into the wagon and his gut clenched. First he had to apologize for his unkindness earlier, and then he had to tell Rosemary that she had a room in town and no choice but to go.
Not for the first time, he couldn’t help but wonder—what if she refused?
Chapter Eight
.........................
The house was filled with the delicious scents of apple strudel, fresh bread, and venison stew. If the saying were true that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, Finn would have no choice but to forgive her when he walked inside.
She still cringed at her thoughtless words. She had prayed and prayed for forgiveness. “Help me to learn to hold my tongue, Lord. Why do I have to say whatever hurtful thing comes to mind just so I can win every argument?”
All day she had worked, cooking and cleaning, in between caring for Sarah. She had rarely taken the time to sit, but the results were more than worth the effort. The wash was still drying on the line outside, but otherwise, the chores were finished, Finn’s meal was just about ready to go on the table, and his baby girl was clean and fed and sleeping soundly. He just had to accept her apology when he saw how hard she had worked to make it up to him.
Satisfaction flowed through Rosemary as she stood in the kitchen enjoying her handiwork. “This must be just how You felt at the end of each day of creation, Lord,” she said aloud. “And the Lord saw that it was good.” She breathed out a slow sigh.
The sound of Cooper barking outside brought a smile to her lips. Finn must be coming. She walked to the door, twisted the latch, and pulled. A flash of feathers and fur greeted her, and before she could control the situation, she found herself on her backside while the rooster squawked and scratched into the house, followed by Cooper.
“What on earth?” she sputtered, trying to get her bearings. “Coop!” she screamed, jumping to her feet. “You dumb dog!”
Squawks and barks filled the small space, followed by the baby’s cries. And then like a tornado that comes suddenly, leaves a path of destruction, and is gone as fast as it came, the rooster and dog sped past her, out the door, and into the barnyard.
Dazed, Rosemary stood at the open door as Coop, tail wagging, flopped to the ground in front of the house, looking satisfied that he’d done his job by shooing the rooster out of the house and back where it belonged.
“Y–you. You’re a…” Coop stared at her, obviously waiting for praise. “You—you…bad, bad dog!” She slammed the door. Sarah’s cries turned from pathetic to downright mad. Rosemary hurried to the cradle and lifted her. Holding the baby against her shoulder, she bounced her until she quieted. With dread, she heard Cooper bark again and instinctively knew that this time Finn was back.
The baby had settled into her nap once more, so Rosemary carefully laid her in the cradle. Forcing away a sudden rush of tears, she prepared to face Finn, her confidence shaken more than she cared to admit. The house, in perfect order a mere ten minutes ago, now resembled the home of a shameful woman who didn’t mind the mess. Chairs were overturned, linens strewn.…
The door opened and Finn stood with his eyebrows raised as he looked about the room. His expression swept from surprise to annoyance before Rosemary had a chance to explain the mess.
Indignati
on shot through her. How dare he?
“You should just be glad your supper didn’t get knocked off the stove.”
“What happened?” He closed the door and hung his hat on a peg sticking out of the wall.
“Ask your dog.”
“That would be pretty silly, now, wouldn’t it?”
“I opened the door and the rooster came in, for some reason. I think it was to get away from Cooper. But he saw it as a challenge to his authority and shot in here to shoo the bird out. Then he had the audacity to expect me to be proud of him.”
A chuckle rumbled in Finn’s chest, further igniting Rosemary’s ire. How dare he laugh when she had worked her fingers to the bone all day? For him. She grabbed a dishrag and lifted the lid from the stew, stirred the pot, and replaced the lid. Then she opened the oven. Thankfully, the strudel looked perfect. She pulled the pan from the oven and set it on the counter next to the stove.
As anticipated, Finn followed the aroma and stood behind her, staring at the strudel over her shoulder. “What’s that?”
He’d obviously stopped somewhere to bathe. Her face bloomed at the very thought, and it didn’t help matters that his breath whispered against her neck. Rosemary’s stomach dipped. “Apple strudel. Agnes Fischer taught me to make it the week I spent with them before coming here.”
“Looks good.” To Rosemary’s relief, he moved back and she could breathe again.
“Supper will be a couple more hours. Would you like a slice of the strudel with a cup of coffee before you unload the supplies?”
He hesitated then shook his head. “I’d best tend the horses.” Reaching down, he righted a chair the dog had knocked over and headed toward the door. When he was gone, Rosemary went about the task of tidying up the linens, once nicely folded but now strewn across the floor. Luckily the cradle hadn’t been overturned, but the bed had muddy paw prints on the bare mattress. That much was a mercy, considering she had washed the bedding after the rain came through the dirt roof that morning.
All in all, the mess wasn’t as devastating as she had originally thought. And from the conversation she’d just had with Finn, perhaps he had forgiven her for her earlier outburst. There was still the matter of where she would live, but perhaps they would discuss it amicably now that they had argued and forgiven each other.
Sarah awoke again, this time ready to be changed and fed. Rosemary welcomed the chance to sit and rock her niece. Finn found them this way when he came in carrying supplies a few minutes later. The baby’s eyes followed her pa as far as they could and then followed him again when he came back into view. He stood over her and she grinned, spilling milk down the side of her cheek.
“She knows who her pa is,” Rosemary said, laughing, now that the baby clearly had no more interest in her food. “You may as well go on and take her. I’ll start putting away the supplies.” She stood and offered the baby to him.
Finn reached out and gathered Sarah close. He sat in the rocking chair. Sarah took his finger as he gazed down at her.
The look on his face made Rosemary ache, forcing her to turn away before the tears fell. How Rachel would have loved watching that moment between her husband and their child.
She turned her attention to the supplies. He had purchased flour, sugar, coffee, oats, baking powder, and the material she had requested to sew Sarah some new gowns. Other than the few items of clothing Agnes had sent, the baby was quickly outgrowing the four that Rachel had obviously sewn during her pregnancy.
“I’ll start on these tonight,” she said.
“You don’t have to do that, Rosemary.” Finn didn’t look up from the baby. Was it her imagination, or was his neck red, a sign he was uncomfortable? “There are several women who take in sewing to make extra money. Marta Fischer, Agnes’s daughter, for one.”
“Why would you pay someone to do it? I’m perfectly capable of sewing some gowns for my niece.”
Sarah sighed and tightened her fist around his pinky. He lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss to the soft skin. “Because you won’t be here after today.”
Rosemary’s heartbeat picked up and she stared harder, willing him to look up and face her after that comment.
“What do you mean?”
“I took the liberty of finding you a room in a very nice boarding-house in Paddington.”
“You did what?” The nerve—presuming he had the right to send her packing!
“I know you want to be near the baby, and I promise I’ll bring her to see you as often as I can. But for now I have to do what is best for all of us.”
Rosemary trembled with anger. “I have no intention of being packed off to a boardinghouse at your whim, Finn Tate. If you don’t want me in your home, so be it. But I will make my own decisions as to where I will go.”
“Packed off to a boardinghouse at my whim? Have you forgotten that you moved in here at your whim without giving me a choice? Seems to me it’s only fair that I return the favor.”
The outburst between the two startled the baby, and she stuck out her bottom lip then screwed up her little face and let out a wail.
While Finn had his hands full with comforting the baby, Rosemary turned on her heel before she gave in to the temptation to tell him exactly what was on her mind. She wanted desperately to slam the door behind her but didn’t want to frighten the baby again. Stomping across the yard, Rosemary had no idea where she was going or what she intended to do. She tried to ignore the dog as he wagged his entire body and nudged her thigh.
“Leave me alone, you troublemaker,” she said. Then she repented as his ears went back and he let out a little whine. She reached down and scratched the top of his head. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just the unwanted sister-in-law who’s about to be sent away. And clearly I’m feeling sorry for myself.”
She paced back and forth in front of the barn then made a heady decision. Before she could risk her reason taking over, she opened the barn and grabbed the dusty sidesaddle Rachel had brought with her from home. If Finn didn’t want her, she would leave. The image of Sarah flashed through her mind, and her stomach tightened. How could she ride away like this? But what choice did she have? Finn had made it clear she was not wanted, nor was she allowed to stay. She had no choice but to leave.
She saddled Rachel’s horse, Charity. Pa had given Rachel the mare as a wedding present, and Rachel had fallen in love with the horse the moment the two laid eyes on each other. Rosemary led the chestnut mare out of the barn and climbed into the saddle. If Finn didn’t want her here, she had little choice but to make her own way.
Fine, she could do that. She certainly wasn’t afraid to try. But she had no intention of leaving Rachel’s only child to be raised without a woman’s guidance. Perhaps Finn had good reason to be concerned about Sarah learning her bold ways. Rosemary knew she should learn to hold her tongue and be more mindful of a child’s tendency to imitate the adults in his or her life. And with the Lord’s help, she would be more careful. But the one thing she would not do was be bullied by a man who didn’t want her and was only trying to get rid of her.
She turned Charity toward the road and nudged her into a trot.
It wasn’t difficult to find the Freeman farm. Silas Freeman had described the homestead well. She had no idea whether he had returned from doing the business he’d spoken of. Surely he would have come to Finn and said good-bye if he planned to leave his homestead without proving up. Though she half expected that he’d changed his mind and decided to stay. Goodness, abandoning the homestead after three years of sweat and blood and tears… Even though more than a week had gone by since she had learned of his plan, she still thought that the most foolish thing she’d ever heard.
“Hello!” she called, putting her critical thoughts behind her as she approached. Her unfortunate tendency to show every thought and emotion on her face concerned her as she looked ahead to the conversation she hoped to have with Silas. It would certainly not bode well for her if she called him a fool and offended hi
m.
Chickens squawked inside the coop, and in the barnyard she noted two milk cows. By all accounts, Mr. Freeman seemed to be making an even better go of things than Finn. So why on earth would he allow his wife to drag him away from this place?
“Hello?” she called again, dismounting. She tethered the horse to the railing that stretched across the front porch. The home was made of lumber, another sign that Mr. Freeman must be doing well. By all rights, the house was small…but it was a far cry from a soddy.
As she walked up the three steps to the porch, the door opened. A young woman stood at the threshold with her mouth agape. “Goodness, you’re the spitting image, aren’t you?”
Rosemary understood the reaction, but understanding didn’t keep her from feeling the pain that accompanied the observation. She nodded, holding out her hand. “I’m Rosemary, Rachel’s sister.”
The woman behaved as though she didn’t see Rosemary’s extended hand. She still held one palm to her cheek and the other to her extended belly. “Silas told me you two were identical, but I just couldn’t picture it.” Embarrassed, Rosemary lowered her arm to her side.
Mrs. Freeman’s jaw dropped. “Mercy, where are my manners? Please come in, Rosemary. You don’t mind my calling you that, do you? I just couldn’t even imagine being formal when I feel like I already know you.”
“Of course you may call me Rosemary. As a matter of fact, I insist.” It was difficult not to be drawn in by the woman’s sweet nature and vivacious personality. She was nothing at all like Rosemary had imagined. Because she was insisting on moving to Missouri when her man needed her support right now, Rosemary had assumed that Annie Freeman would be a weak, foolish woman. But the image she had held in her mind certainly didn’t match the reality before her now.
“And you should call me Annie.” She dimpled as she gave Rosemary a warm smile then turned and led the way to a lovely sitting room. A wooden rocking chair sat next to the fire, and a settee faced the fireplace. The furniture spoke of prosperity. How on earth could the man even contemplate leaving?
Love Finds You in Wildrose, North Dakota Page 8