Love Finds You in Wildrose, North Dakota

by Tracey Bateman

  Besides, she didn’t appreciate the word “wild” being used to describe her. That was a little too close to “fast” or “easy.”

  “No, sir. I’m not wild. But I can see plainly that Mr. Clayton manages things around here. And I, for one, will not be managed. That doesn’t make me wild.”

  “I’ve offended you, and that wasn’t my intention. What I should have said was that it makes you brave.”

  She felt her cheeks warm. “Brave, I like. Good day, Sheriff May-field. Thank you again for your kindness. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “The pleasure was all mine. I hope to see you again.” His eyebrows went up. “Perhaps at the dance next week?”

  “Dance?” Rosemary’s heart lifted at the thought.

  “At City Hall on Friday.”

  Regret tugged at her heart. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. I live alone and have no one to bring me.” A woman might live alone, but she certainly couldn’t drive herself to a dance after dark.

  “I’d be honored to escort you,” Sheriff Mayfield said.

  Rosemary’s eyes widened as horror shook her to the core. “Sheriff, I assure you, I was not hinting at an invitation. I could no more ride with a man who is not my husband with no chaperone present than I could drive myself. Good day, sir.”

  She quickly ducked inside the bank.

  Silas followed her. “Don’t swoon.” He grinned. “Looks like Finn best open his eyes soon if he doesn’t want to lose the woman who’s right in front of his face. Although I still maintain that Finn’s worth ten of the sheriff.”

  “Oh, hush. That was just about the most humiliating experience of my life.” She wanted to burst into tears but forced herself to maintain her dignity.

  “I’m going to walk down and get the wagon so you don’t have to be subjected to those men again.”

  “I appreciate the thoughtfulness, but I’m not afraid.”

  He smiled. “Then you’re braver than I am. I’ll be in the wagon out front when you’re finished.”

  “All right.” Rosemary said a quick prayer of protection for him as she watched him go. Then she turned to her own business.

  Rosemary’s presence in the bank commanded attention—and more respect, she was gratified to note—than she had received from the land officer and the thugs on the street. She wore a stylish gown of dark blue and a small hat she had ordered from New York City a few months before Pa had gotten sick. Pa had always told her that when she visited banks and lawyers, she needed to dress like she knew exactly what she wanted. Otherwise, businessmen would try to take advantage of the fact that she was a woman.

  Mr. Lowenstein, the banker, ushered her into his office. He shoved his round spectacles up from the tip of his nose and smiled. “What may I do for you, miss?”

  Gathering a breath, Rosemary handed over the two bank drafts to the middle-aged man.

  “Now, what have we here?” He spent a few minutes going over the drafts then looked up at her over his spectacles. “I’ll need to send a telegram to the bank in Hayes, Kansas, of course. But I see no reason not to open an account for you.” He glanced at the second draft and frowned. “This one is made out to a Mrs. Rachel Tate?”

  “And her husband, Finn. Rachel was my sister.” Rosemary swallowed past the lump in her throat and tried to maintain her composure. She sat ramrod straight in the chair, never allowing her back to touch or her shoulders to slouch. “My pa passed on, and his attorney, Mr. Jacobs, executed the distribution of his will. Unbeknownst to us, my sister, Rachel, died two months before my pa from complications of childbirth.”

  Mr. Lowenstein removed his spectacles and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry for your double loss, Miss Jackson. But upon Mrs. Tate’s death, the inheritance must go to her husband. We have only one Tate with an account. Would that be Mr. Finnias Tate?”

  “Precisely. And believe me, I want him to have it, but he refuses to accept the money. I am at a loss as to what I can do to convince him.” She shrugged. “Would I be allowed to deposit the money into his account without his knowledge?”

  “You mean to tell me you truly weren’t trying to cash both of these for your own use?” He frowned and leveled his beady gaze at her once more.

  “Of course not!” Rosemary’s hands shook at the outrageous questioning of her character. She was nothing if not honest. And more often than not, she had been told she was too honest for her own good. She stood and stared down with as much dignity as she possessed. “Perhaps I should take my business to Williston. It might be forty miles, but I’d prefer a good long drive to the insult of being accused of cheating my own flesh and blood. And by that I mean my sister’s daughter.”

  “Oh, there’s a child?”

  “Well, of course there is. I told you, my sister passed away after giving birth.”

  “Forgive me, Miss Jackson.” He leaned forward and clasped his almost feminine-looking hands on the desk. “I’ve seen too much treachery to recognize a woman of integrity.” He motioned to the chair she had just vacated. “Please, may we begin again?”

  Slightly mollified, Rosemary sat back down. “Fine.”

  “If a child was born to Mrs. Tate and Mr. Tate refuses the inheritance, then, yes, you may set up a trust for the child with the draft once I verify that everything is in order.” He held up his left hand. “Not that I believe anything is untoward—it’s simply bank policy.”

  “Of course, Mr. Lowenstein,” Rosemary said. “I would expect you to check the validity of the drafts.”

  “It may be tomorrow before we receive return telegrams. Are you staying in town?”

  “I hadn’t planned on it, but I suppose I can use the day to conduct other business.” She held out her hand.

  Mr. Lowenstein stared at her open palm and frowned. “Miss Jackson?”

  “The drafts.” She gave him her prettiest smile. “I am sure you are as honest as I am, but you’ll understand if I take these with me until such time as you verify that I have the right to open the accounts.”

  His face flushed, and he handed over the slips of paper. “Why, of course. That’s only reasonable. Please come back in the morning, and I should have your answer.”

  Rosemary tucked the drafts into her reticule and stood. She shook Mr. Lowenstein’s hand, and he escorted her through the lobby and held open the door as she exited.

  Silas hopped down from the wagon where he’d been waiting and walked around to the other side with her while she explained the situation.

  He groaned. “Annie’s chomping at the bit to leave.”

  “I’m sorry, Silas. I should have realized that the bank would need to verify a draft of that size.” She took his hand as he helped her into the seat. “What would you like to do?”

  “That depends on your plans.”

  “Well, I really must procure a wagon and a team. I also would like to find a local rancher who might sell me a few head of cattle.”

  “May I make a suggestion?”

  “Of course.” Anyone who had been so successful at his own homestead in such a harsh part of the country had much wisdom to offer.

  “Sheep.”

  “What do you mean, sheep?”

  “Some of the farmers are beginning to raise sheep herds instead of farming. The rocks make it nearly impossible to plow without moving them.”

  Rosemary shuddered at the very thought of raising sheep. She remembered Pa storming into the house and pacing the floor when a family of sheep farmers took up residence five miles from the ranch. “Just wait,” he’d railed. “Them wooly varmints are gonna tear up all the good grazing land and starve us out of house and home.” She recounted the incident to Silas.

  “And did they starve you out of house and home?” He grinned. “You’re little, but I’d venture to say you haven’t been starved.”

  Rosemary couldn’t help but laugh. “As a matter of fact, within three years four more sheep ranchers moved into the valley and my pa ended up good fr
iends with every one of them. Although some of the other ranchers tried to declare a range war to bully them out.”

  Men like Mr. Clayton.

  “So, by and large, sheep farmers and cattle ranchers shared the land without any of the animals suffering. Correct?”

  “I suppose,” Rosemary said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to risk everything on them. I wouldn’t have the slightest notion how to care for sheep. Or how to get them sheared and the wool to market. I could lose Sarah’s future.”

  “You can always learn about raising sheep. There are plenty of men around here who would oblige you.” He shook his head. “Besides, don’t you think you should be worrying about your own future? Finn’s pretty determined about you not interfering where his daughter is concerned.”

  “True. But he won’t be this stubborn forever.”

  “You mean you think he’ll eventually ask you to marry him?”

  “Probably not.” Rosemary wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be embarrassed at his comment, but Silas was an honest man asking an honest question, and she saw no need to pretend anything other than truth. “He’s probably right about marriage. Mercy. Except for the way we look, Rachel and I are—were—very different. He loved her. He couldn’t possibly love me. And I wouldn’t be happy to live the rest of my life with a man who saw another woman every time he looked at me.”

  Silas reached down and undid the brake. He flapped the reins, and the horses slowly began to walk down the dusty street. “I think you give yourself too little credit. Finn loved Rachel, no doubt about that. But after ten minutes with you, there’s also no doubt that you could be no one but Rosemary Jackson. He doesn’t have the two of you confused.”

  “But Rosemary Jackson isn’t the woman he wants.”

  “Give him time. I think you’ve done exactly the right thing by taking over the homestead. As you said, he’ll eventually come around. Unless you’d rather be courted by someone else.” The sheriff stood in front of the barber shop, talking to Clayton’s men.

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. “I’m not interested in being courted by anyone. And if you’re implying I might want the sheriff to come calling, as I’ve already mentioned, a woman living alone has to take precautions to observe propriety. I could never do anything that might cause Sarah any future embarrassment. You know how scandals, either real or imagined, tend to hang on.”

  “You are an honorable woman, Miss Jackson.” Silas shook his head and she knew he wanted to mention Finn again. She was relieved that he fell silent instead.

  Taking in the town of Paddington, Rosemary noted the city hall, the general store, the land office, and the sheriff’s office. On the other side of the street stood the bank from which they had just come, the granary, the feed store, and a smithy. She had to admit that for such a primitive culture, compared to Kansas, these hardy Northerners had done pretty well with this town. With the exception of the dingy saloon with a hotel above it.

  With a sigh, she addressed Silas’s last comment about Finn eventually coming around. “I didn’t mean he’ll come around to me. I meant, he will eventually realize that he needs my help in raising Sarah. How will he go to the fields and plow with a baby to care for?”

  “How will you run a ranch with a baby?”

  “The same way Indian women have always worked and cared for their infants.”

  “A cradle board?” He grinned as though she had discovered the contraption herself.

  “Not exactly, but something similar. Besides, I’m going to hire ranch hands. Especially if I decide to raise sheep.”

  “So you’re considering it?”

  She nodded. “I’d like to hear more about the process first.”

  “If you’re truly interested, there’s a sheep rancher a couple miles west of here. He’s selling out and moving West.”

  “Sounds like a promising idea. Yes, let’s go visit the man.”

  Expecting Silas to continue out of town, Rosemary frowned when he stopped the wagon in front of a two-story home. “What’s this?” she asked.

  He set the brake and wrapped the reins, nodding toward the sign out front that proclaimed ROOMS TO LET. “The boardinghouse. I thought you’d want to settle into a room before you went about your business.”

  Boardinghouse. The very thought raised her ire as it had the day before. Finn had actually thought he could pack her off to this place. And what had he expected she would do with her days? A single woman without a livelihood? Ridiculous. “I suppose it makes the most sense. Besides, I should tell the woman who runs the place that I won’t be living here.”

  She climbed down without waiting for Silas to help. “What do you mean?” he asked.

  In as few words as possible she relayed the argument that had preceded her appearance at his dinner table.

  Silas tossed back his head and laughed out loud. “I love him like a brother, but that Finn can sure be a fool.”

  The door opened and an elderly woman stood with her hands planted on her tiny hips.

  “Hello, ma’am,” Silas said. “The lady would like to rent a room if you have one available.”

  She leveled her gaze at Silas, her eyes scrutinizing him until Rosemary grew a bit uncomfortable. Clearly she had heard the laughter and drawn the wrong conclusion about the two of them.

  “I don’t mean to be rude,” Rosemary began, “but have you an empty room or not?”

  The woman glanced at Rosemary then turned back to Silas, her gaze remaining suspicious. “I’ve seen you in town before. But not with this woman. I don’t rent rooms to riffraff or adulterers. Go on down to the hotel. That man’ll rent to anyone.”

  Indignation shot through Rosemary. “I beg your pardon!” She took another step and glared even though she had never been insolent to an elder in her life. But this was too much. “I am here for a room while I await business with the bank. Furthermore, this gentleman has a wife waiting for him at home, and he is simply offering me a kindness in escorting me to your establishment. I would no more stay in a filthy hotel above a saloon than I would walk across the street unclothed.”

  The woman frowned but stepped aside. “Land sakes, girl. No need to be vulgar. Come on in. I reckon you’ll do.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” She had to learn to hold her tongue, but her outburst had apparently satisfied the owner of the boardinghouse.

  “I’m Mrs. Franklin, and I own this place.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

  The woman moved slowly, without solid footing. Rosemary worried she might stumble and stayed close by her side to steady her, if need be. The elderly woman led her into the parlor, waving her to a seat. “Tell me about yourself.”

  Rosemary took a seat on the settee and folded her hands in her lap. “First of all, I believe my brother-in-law erroneously made arrangements for me to have an indefinite stay in your lovely home.”

  “Ah, you must be Rosemary Jackson?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “What made him think you needed a room if you don’t?” She frowned deeply, which pushed her loose skin around her eyes until Rosemary wondered if she could even see.

  While Silas sat a respectable distance away in a wing chair, Rosemary relayed as much of her story as she felt appropriate. “So, you see, I’ve already filed on Mr. Freeman’s homestead and will be moving into the home as soon as Mr. Lowenstein verifies that the bank draft is valid.”

  “I admire a woman taking matters into her own hands and doing what needs to be done.” Mrs. Franklin inched forward and attempted to stand. Silas was at her side, with his hand extended, in an instant. Grabbing her cane with one hand, she sighed, putting her other hand in his. “One day, no matter how much you’d like to see to your own affairs, your age catches up with you and you need more help than you’d like to admit.”

  They followed her to the stairway just outside the parlor, where she pointed upstairs. “The second door on the right,” she said to Rosemary. “You’ll sleep there t
onight. It’s my best room. I’ve been saving it for just the right guest. It’s a pity you aren’t going to stay here permanently.” She turned to Silas. “How about you? Do you want a room too?”

  “No, ma’am,” he said. “I’m going home to my wife, and I’ll come back in the morning for Miss Jackson.” He hesitated. “That is, after she finishes conducting the rest of her business.”

  Rosemary and Silas spent the rest of the day purchasing supplies and tending other business. By the time Rosemary made her way back to the boardinghouse around suppertime, she had gone with Silas to meet the sheep farmer and haggled over the price of sheep. She had no idea whether or not she’d made a good bargain. Either way, she walked back into the boardinghouse with her head high, the proud almost-owner of a homestead and the very proud owner of one hundred head of sheep. She hired the young man who had been working for the previous owner, so at the very least, there was someone who knew how to tend sheep.

  No matter that the room was beautiful and the feather bed soft and the house quiet, Rosemary barely slept all night. Silas would be back early in the morning, they would take care of business at the bank, and then he and Annie would be on their way to Missouri and she would begin her life as a woman sheep farmer. Pa was likely rolling over in his grave at the thought. But he had chosen not to allow her to run his ranch, so she had made the best decision she could. Raising cattle would have been more taxing and more expensive. And she honestly hadn’t known for sure if she could begin a ranch and be successful. But sheep farming, on the other hand, seemed providential.

  She daydreamed deep into the night, and by the time the sun rose with the promise of another beautiful day, her thoughts had returned to Finn for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. A soft smile touched her lips. If he hated the thought of her homesteading so close to him, what was Finn going to say when he discovered that not only was she his new neighbor, but his other neighbors were one hundred sheep?