“Well, he never really made threats until today, Finn.”
“Tell me exactly what happened. What did he say?”
For the next few minutes, Rosemary shared the most recent conversation she’d had with Clayton. Finn clenched his fists as he pictured the tiny young woman defending herself against five grown men. Fear and admiration vied for first place in his emotions. He couldn’t help but try to imagine Rachel in a similar situation, and his mind refused to even allow it. Rachel would never have stood her ground alone with a rifle, protecting the women inside.
But Rosemary…this maddening woman had fierce bravery. It was a bit misplaced, perhaps, but how could one not find such an indomitable spirit admirable?
“At first,” she said, “he pretended his objection to my having the land was because of the sheep, which I understood, coming from a ranching community.” She rolled her eyes. “You know how things were when the sheep farmers first started coming into the area with their sheep. But eventually things smoothed out, and most of the ranchers, including my pa, came around. Within a couple of years, they shared the land fine. I originally thought that’s what would happen with Bart Clayton. But after his first visit to the homestead, I realized that he’s not concerned about sheep. He wants my land.”
“And today he stopped all pretense, huh?”
She nodded. “I won’t give him the land, of course. But I’m not sure how far he might go to win this fight.”
Finn didn’t know either, but Clayton wasn’t the sort to make idle threats. If he wanted Rosemary’s land, he would do whatever he had to in order to get what he wanted. There weren’t too many men who would challenge him, and he could only think of one woman. “Rosemary, there’s another way.”
Her eyes lifted with hope. “You have an idea?”
Swallowing hard, he nodded and stared into her eyes, willing her to read his question.
When she realized what he meant, her expression hardened. “No.”
Irritation shot through him. “You’re being awfully all-fired stubborn for someone who came to me for help.”
“You’re mistaken.” She lifted her chin. “I didn’t come to you for help. I came to you for support because you’re the only family I have left. Clearly, it was a mistake.”
Her last words stung. Perhaps she didn’t want his help, but hadn’t he shown her support? “Fine. But I’m not leaving my daughter in danger.”
She swung around, her eyes blazing as she glared at him. “Sarah is in no danger as long as she is under my roof. I’ll keep her safe.”
“But what if you aren’t safe, Rose?” He reached out and took her arm again. “Why do you think you have to pretend to be so strong?”
“I don’t think I have to pretend, Finn.” A sigh escaped her lips, beckoning him, and he had to force himself not to bend down and press his mouth to hers. She covered his hand. “I’m strong because it’s who I am. You want me to marry you to join our property and cause Clayton to stop threatening me. And that might help, but I don’t want to get married out of fear or necessity. Not to mention the fact that I have a right to that land. Me. On my own. And that man shouldn’t be able to run me off just because he made a bad deal—an illegal deal—with Silas and lost out.”
“If that’s even true,” Finn said. “I find it difficult to believe that Silas would be involved with Clayton.”
She shrugged and dropped her hand from his. “I don’t know what I believe. You weren’t there that day in Paddington when Clayton came at Silas. From the exchange I heard, the story could just as easily be true as false.”
Finn frowned. Rosemary always had to see things differently than he did. “If it’s true, it means my good friend swindled Clayton. Can you honestly see Silas Freeman being that bold? Clayton would put a bullet through his head.”
“Maybe. But probably not. Especially after the words they had in the middle of town. If he turned up dead, the law would go after Clayton.”
That made sense. Rosemary was too smart for her own good… but that just might be her undoing. “Just promise me you’ll be careful. Don’t go to town alone or even just with the children. Make sure Agnes is with you—or Rolf or me.” He smiled. “Yes, even me. You can come to me for help. It doesn’t make you weak.”
Her cheeks bloomed, and she looked away. “Actually, I do want you to come with me to town. Friday night.”
“Friday night? Why?”
“Rolf has asked Marta to accompany him to the monthly dance at City Hall, but of course they can’t go those many miles alone. It’ll be dark when the dance is over. And it would seem strange for me to go without someone else to come along and even out the number.”
“I see. So you’re saying it would be odd for you to go without a male escort.”
“Would you mind terribly?”
He thought about teasing her and forcing her to pout the way Rachel would have if she’d wanted to go to a dance and he’d said no, but Rosemary wasn’t her sister. Rosemary was straightforward and no-nonsense. If he told her no, she’d just take them herself without asking twice. And although it took him by surprise, the thought of going to the dance with her appealed to him. “I’d be happy to escort you.”
Her face brightened. “Thank you, Finn. When you come to dinner tonight, I’ll cut your hair for you. By the way, you look much more handsome since you’ve begun shaving again.” She looked over her shoulder toward her homestead. “I’d best go. I went out for a walk and sort of ended up here. I didn’t tell Agnes where I was going, so she’s likely afraid that Clayton has done me harm.” She frowned, glancing past him, across his field. “Finn, where are Heinrich Jr. and Afonso? Shouldn’t they be helping you?”
“I have them in the back field using Silas’s plow. I figure we can get the fields ready much faster if we plow two at once.”
“Will you be ready to plant soon?”
He nodded. “I’ll start on Monday.” Excitement fluttered inside him as he thought about the new crops he had planned. “I’m going to plant late beets in this field.”
“Beets?” Rosemary’s brow furrowed. “What are they?”
“They’re a red vegetable. Almost like a fruit. There’s a demand for them in the East, and I intend to meet some of that demand. I’m planting turnips and cabbages, as well. And it’s time to plant strawberries. I’ve lost some of the growing season, but most of the root vegetables will still grow, and there is already hay growing in the fields we planted last year.”
“Agnes will be happy about the cabbages. You know how she loves her kraut. Though I’m not sure it agrees with Sarah’s little tummy.”
Alarm seized Finn. “Is she sick again?”
Rosemary laughed. “No, Finn. She’s growing like a weed. Every day, it seems, she fills out more and more. I just mean, some things that Agnes eats appear to affect her.”
“Oh.” Finn frowned. “You mean it goes into…”
“Yes, like when the cows get into the onions, it makes their milk bitter.” She cleared her throat and ducked her head the way she did when she was embarrassed. “Anyway, I’d best get back.”
“I’ll see you later, then.”
He watched her go, and his hand went to his stubbled jaw as he remembered her compliment. So Rosemary thought he was handsome when he was clean-shaven? Rachel had always liked his beard.
He scowled and turned toward the plow. He had to stop comparing the two. Even if he stood them side by side, he would be able to see the differences between them. There weren’t too many differences in their looks—other than the freckles on Rosemary’s cheeks from the sun that Rachel never would have allowed to touch her skin. Although he had to admit, the freckles were becoming and he couldn’t understand why Rachel had been so against getting them.
Shaking off the images of the two women, he lifted the reins and flapped them at the horse. The fact was, he hadn’t been able to save Rachel, and now Rosemary was in danger as well. A different sort of danger, perhaps, but the fact tha
t she refused to marry him was frustrating. He couldn’t imagine how else to keep her safe. Clayton would have no choice but to stop harassing her if she had a husband.
Finn expelled a weighted breath. How on earth could he keep Rosemary safe if she refused to believe that she needed anyone to take care of her?
* * * * *
Rosemary set the chair in the middle of the kitchen and instructed Finn to sit down. The children milled around, watching with amusement as she first wrapped a towel around his shoulders and then grabbed the shears from her sewing kit. Coop prowled around the kitchen too, interested and worried.
“Have you ever done this before?” Finn asked.
Rosemary rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a baby,” she said. “Who do you think cut my pa’s hair?”
He turned in the chair and stared up at her, one dark eyebrow arched. “I happen to know for a fact that Owen Armstrong at the barbershop cut your pa’s hair every other week.”
Caught, Rosemary scowled and, putting her fingers at the top of his head, twisted him back around. “Okay, fine, I didn’t cut Pa’s hair. That doesn’t mean I don’t know how to cut yours.”
“Rosemary, so help me, you’d better not do this wrong.”
“Good heavens, Finn,” she said with more levity than she felt. “You’re not setting a very good example for the children.”
“Is that so?” he asked. “I’m not the one who just lied in front of them.”
The boys laughed aloud, and Marta’s lips quivered into a tiny smile.
Agnes looked up from her book. “Out. All of you. Boys, go check on the cows and chickens and then go to bed.”
“Yes, Ma,” Heinrich said, though his tone belied the ready obedience. Clearly, given his choice, he’d have stayed.
Afonso was not quite so subtle. “But I want to watch Finn get his hair cut.”
Agnes gasped. “Are you now a grown man the age of Mr. Tate? Do you not show him the respect he deserves?”
Rosemary frowned, unsure at first what had riled Agnes, until Afonso hung his head. “Sorry, Ma. I meant I want to watch Mr. Tate get his hair cut.”
“That is very much better.” Agnes swatted her younger son on the behind. “And no, you may not stay and watch. Fräulein Jackson is scared enough without you making her more so.”
“Scared!” Rosemary glared at Agnes over Finn’s head. “Who says I’m scared?”
She reached forward and ran the comb through Finn’s thick, wavy hair that had grown so long, it now hung past his collar. He shivered when she took a lock between her fingers.
“Admit it,” he said, his tone quiet, almost intimate.
“Admit what?” She slowly placed the shears around the lock of hair and squeezed the handle together.
“That you’ve never done this before.”
“Oh, for mercy’s sake. Fine. I’ve never cut anyone’s hair before, Finn.” She walked around the chair until she stood in front of him. She bent and looked him in the eyes. “But I have never attempted anything that I didn’t succeed in doing.”
Once the words left her mouth, she realized how vain she sounded. She was just about to apologize when Finn took her wrist and pulled her even closer—so close, in fact, that she had to adjust her footing to keep from dropping into his lap. His breath fluffed the tendrils of hair that always sprang free by evening.
“You’re right,” he said. “Until now, everything you’ve tried has worked in your favor. But don’t make this the one thing you can’t do. Not when you’re experimenting on me.”
He smiled, and his eyes slanted just a little as they moved over her face. He held her there, so close that she could feel the warmth of his skin, and she nodded and smiled back. “Have a little faith,” she whispered. She pulled back.
Twenty minutes later, she stared at the pile of hair on the floor and knew Finn was never going to forgive her. “Are you finished yet?” he asked, his impatience a vast contrast to the closeness they’d shared moments before.
“Agnes,” she called, her voice trembling a little.
“What?” Finn reached up to touch his hair, but she slapped his hand away.
“Just wait. You’re acting like a child.”
“Agnes!” She had gone to feed Sarah a half hour ago. She should have been finished by now.
The woman came out of her room seconds later, her frown turning into a look of surprise as her gaze fell on Finn. Rosemary groaned inwardly. There was no mistaking the amusement combined with compassion in her expression.
“I knew it!” Finn hopped up from the chair. “Where’s your mirror?”
“Sit down, Mr. Tate,” Agnes ordered. “Do not vorry. Your hair vill be fine. I haf much experience cutting hair.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, but someone else told me the same thing just a little while ago.”
Agnes let out a chuckle and held out her hand for the shears. “Rosemary has discovered something at vich she is not competent.”
Rosemary’s cheeks burned. “I’m sorry, Finn. It didn’t seem like it would be that difficult.”
His face softened. “Agnes is fixing whatever mess you’ve made.”
Bristling at his choice of words, Rosemary huffed. “I wouldn’t exactly call it a mess. It was my first time. I’ll do better next time.”
He gave a short laugh. “I’m not letting you cut my hair ever again, and the good Lord help those sheep when it’s time to shear them.”
Agnes chuckled and Rosemary shot her a look. “I am sorry, Rosemary,” she said, grinning. Under her expert hand, the misshapen, uneven hair was beginning to look nice. A little shorter than she ever remembered Finn wearing his hair, but presentable.
Her own incompetence to complete this task stung Rosemary.
“You know,” Finn said, as though reading her mind, “pride goeth before a fall.”
Her eyes went big, and her jaw dropped. “Are you saying you not only think I’m incapable of doing this one task correctly, but I’m also prideful?”
He met her gaze straight on and nodded. “Yep. That’s exactly what I’m saying.” His voice rose in pitch as he mimicked her. “ ‘I can do anything I set my mind to.’ ”
“Well then,” Rosemary said as anger clenched her midsection, “I can do without your company on Friday night.”
His eyes glittered, hard as stone. “That’s fine by me. I didn’t want to go anyway.”
“Fine. I didn’t really want you to go.”
“Okay then.” He sniffed. “I generally prefer to do the asking anyhow. If you ever expect to find a husband, maybe you should learn to wait until you’re asked.”
“Oh!” Rosemary’s anger boiled over. “I seem to remember twice being asked for more than a dance!” She knew that her voice had risen and Agnes stared at her in shock, but she didn’t care one bit. “How many times are you going to ask me to marry you when you know I’d sooner marry a big fat frog than be stuck with the likes of you for the rest of my life?”
“Maybe that’s your best bet. At least a frog doesn’t have hair for you to butcher. You can wager I’ll never ask you again.” He jumped up and yanked the towel from his shoulders. Stomping across the room, he grabbed his hat and turned at the door. “Thank you for fixing me, Mrs. Fischer.”
“It isn’t quite finished, Mr. Tate,” she said. Her voice was barely audible.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll tidy it up later.”
He yanked open the door and stepped outside. “Rose, quick!” he hollered. “Start bringing buckets of water.”
The panic in his voice sent her running to the porch, and as she looked across the yard, she understood the urgency.
“The barn!” she screamed. Flames shot up from the top of the building. “Barney!” She hopped from the porch and ran for the barn. The lamb without a mother still slept in a pen alone until he was weaned. Tears came quickly and ran down her cheeks. Just as she reached the barn, strong arms caught her and pulled her back. She found herself pressed back
against a rock-hard chest. Finn’s arms encircled her, and he practically carried her away from the burning building. There was no use in trying to save the barn. Even as Agnes and Marta shot from the house with buckets filled with water, Finn waved them away. “We’ll keep an eye on it,” he said. “But there’s no wind. I think it’ll burn without spreading to the other buildings.”
Agnes raced forward and tossed her bucket of water on the fire then ran back to the house. “Marta, come! Ve must save Rosemary’s barn.”
“There’s no point, Mrs. Fischer,” Finn called. “We can’t stop it from taking the barn. It’s too far gone.”
Rosemary shuddered through her tears. She turned to Finn. “Go check on the boys in the bunkhouse.”
“We’re here.” Rolf and the two Fischer boys walked toward them.
“Rose, look,” Finn said softly, pointing at the boys.
Rosemary let out a cry of joy at the sight of Afonso carrying the lamb in his arms. “Barney! Afonso, you wonderful boy. You saved him.”
He nodded.
“Tell her.” Heinrich nudged him. “Now is the time to tell the truth.”
“What truth?” Rosemary asked.
“Barney has been sleeping next to me in the bunkhouse.” He looked at the ground. “I am sorry, Fräulein Jackson.”
“Sorry?” Rosemary laughed despite the burning building. She ruffled the boy’s hair. “All you had to do was ask. I wouldn’t have cared if you kept Barney with you at night, as long as your mother didn’t mind. As a matter of fact, he’s yours.”
Afonso grinned broadly. “Truly?”
“Truly.” She reached out and ran a hand over the woolly baby. “You saved his life. If you hadn’t taken him as a pet, Barney would be inside that barn right now.” She glanced at the fire and fresh pain sliced through her heart. She was only thankful the horses were out to pasture when the fire started.
Afonso’s eyes lit with pride and Agnes stepped up and slipped her arm around him. “You did goot to save the baby sheep, but you must ask permission from now on, ja?”
Love Finds You in Wildrose, North Dakota Page 15