Mountain Rose

by Cheryl St. John

  Afterward, Wayland delivered them back at the cabin.

  “Do you suppose Mr. Wayland will make those biscuits again tonight?” Emily asked. She didn’t look at Olivia as she asked the question. They’d eaten dry, heavy biscuits with each meal so far.

  “I have supplies to make bread,” she told her. “You can help, and then we’ll work on your arithmetic while the dough rises.”

  Emily nodded eagerly.

  The afternoon passed quickly with lessons and bread making. She was determined to continue Emily’s studies, no matter their location or lack of stability.

  As the sun lowered on the horizon, a visitor arrived on the doorstep to introduce himself. The dusty dark-haired cowboy held his hat against his chest. “Lee Crandall, Miss Rose.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” she said with a hesitant smile.

  He gave her a broad grin and produced a bunch of lavender wildflowers he’d been hiding behind his hat. “For you and the little miss.”

  Hesitantly, she accepted the fragrant blooms. No one had ever given her flowers before. “Thank you, Mr. Crandall.”

  “Somethin’ sure smells good.”

  She sent him away with three slices of her fresh bread.

  The smells of her bread wafting on the summer air attracted more than one ranch hand. Before she knew it, she had a full bouquet on the table and the three loaves she’d baked had been whittled down to a few slices for their supper.

  “It’s a good thing Wayland left us plenty of flour,” she told Emily. “I guess I’ll make more bread tomorrow.”

  Expecting another ranch hand bearing flowers when a knock sounded, she was surprised to open the door to Jules. He held a covered pot by the handle. “Brought supper.”

  She gestured to the table she’d already set with three places. “You’ll be joining us, won’t you?”

  He glanced at Emily. He’d washed and changed into clean clothing just in case. “I will.”

  This time, he’d left his revolver in his bedroll so as not to unduly frighten the girl. Jules remembered to wait while Miss Rose said the blessing. She was the most grateful woman he’d ever known, thankful for meals and provision and safety, when it appeared to him that she actually had very little.

  The smell of fresh-baked bread was unmistakable in the tiny cabin. He shot a gander at the slices on the cutting board. “Is that bread for our supper?”

  Miss Rose got up to place the slices on a tin plate and set it on the table. “Help yourself.”

  He took a slice and bit into it while she served roast, potatoes and turnips from the kettle. After eating Wayland’s drop biscuits for months, it was a treat to taste bread. Especially Miss Rose’s bread. The yeasty taste and soft texture was delicious. “This is good.”

  “That seems to be the consensus. This is all that’s left from three loaves.”

  Jules raised his eyebrows. “The hands were pestering you?”

  “Not at all. Emily and I were pleased to make their acquaintance. They’re all quite nice.”

  He scowled at the flowers in the pitcher on the table. “They’re supposed to be minding their own business.”

  “I baked late in the day. The smell must have drawn them.”

  He’d smelled the bread baking, too, and it had set his mouth to watering. Even the most seasoned cowboy couldn’t resist a woman’s skill in the kitchen.

  “Mr. George provided me with plenty of flour and salt, and I bought yeast in town today. I’ll just make more tomorrow…if that’s all right with you.”

  He nodded. “Did you get everything you needed, Miss Rose?”

  “You may call me Olivia. Yes, thanks. We don’t require much.”

  “Females need more paraphernalia than what I’ve got on hand. I know that much.”

  “Emily and I packed our own paraphernalia and brought it with us.”

  He slanted her a glance. Was she joking with him? Her expression was completely serious, and because it was, he wanted to laugh. She wouldn’t appreciate that, so he held his amusement in check and ate his meal.

  “We didn’t bring anything to protect us from wild animals,” Emily said unexpectedly.

  Jules didn’t know how to reply to that. He’d told Emily that she’d be safe in the cabin. Why didn’t she believe him?

  They ate several bites in silence. “When I was very small, I was afraid of snakes,” Olivia told Emily. “There had never been a snake indoors at the academy, but I saw one while weeding the garden. The sight startled me so much that I was afraid to pull back my bedcovers at night for fear there would be a snake in my bed.”

  Emily stared at her. “In your bed?”

  “It was a foolish fear, of course. Mrs. Hugh scolded me every night for a month because I wanted to sleep on top of the coverlet. She would pull down the bedding and prove to me there was no snake.” She turned to Jules. “But that didn’t convince me. The next night I’d be afraid to look under the covers all over again.”

  “Really, Miss Rose?” Emily’s eyes widened. “I didn’t think you were ever afraid of anything.”

  The teacher merely tilted her head in silent reply.

  Jules imagined Olivia as a small girl with no parents, living in a house full of strangers. Her childhood fears disturbed him. He didn’t like the mental images. When he glanced to observe Emily’s reaction, her expression stopped his breath. She was a child living with strangers—well, Olivia wasn’t a stranger, but she wasn’t family—and her fear was real.

  It didn’t matter that her fear was unfounded, or that he’d assured her no bears had ever come near the cabin. It had been irrational for Olivia to think there was a snake in her bed, too, but she had. Young or old, real or imagined, fear was fear.

  Jules had thought a lot about Meriel that day, and now he experienced anger toward his sister for leaving her baby. What had been so important that she couldn’t care for her own child?

  His sister’s daughter sat at his table. The fact took some time to sink in. She’d never known a family, and now here he was, a man she’d never met—hadn’t even known existed. No wonder she didn’t trust him yet. They’d have to build that trust. Together. “Tell me more about your life at the academy, Emily.”

  She set down her fork and folded her hands in her lap politely. “Mrs. Hugh was the headmistress. She checked our rooms and our beds each morning before we went to the classroom.”

  “Checked for what?” he asked.

  “To make sure the room was clean and the bed neatly made.”

  His gaze slid to two perfectly made beds across the room. Not a wrinkle in sight. “Go on.”

  “Class began at seven-thirty. Mrs. Pierce was my teacher when I was small, and Miss Rose became my teacher when I learned to read and write.”

  “Were your teachers good to you?”

  Her blue gaze never left his. “Miss Rose taught me English and spelling and history. I did all my work on time, and I received high marks for my achievements.”

  “That wasn’t what I meant. Were they kind to you?”

  She appeared to think a moment. “Miss Rose is very kind, sir. Sometimes she came to our room and read to us at night. And she often took us out of doors for walks and nature adventures.” She gave Olivia a fond yet timid smile. “And when the others all left on holidays, we celebrated, just the two of us. On Christmas we cut down a little tree for the tabletop and decorated it with berries and cut-paper figures. It was ever so much fun.”

  “Just the two of you? Where were the other students?”

  “Their parents came for them, sir.”

  Thinking about the two of them alone together at Christmas, Jules’s meal settled like a lump in his belly. He dared a glance at Olivia. She had set her fork down, as well, and now stared at her plate, her cheeks flushed.

  “You don’t remember your mother, Emily?” he asked.

  “No.”

  He let that fact finally sink in.

  “Miss Rose said I have a grandmother.”


  He nodded and studied her curious expression. “Her name is Lorena. I remember her as being very pretty, with dark wavy hair.”

  “Like mine?” Emily asked.

  Jules’s throat tightened. “Exactly like yours.”

  “Do you think she will want me?”

  Her straightforward question caught him unprepared. His mother had loved her children, but she hadn’t protected them the way a mother should. Maybe it had even been a mistake to contact her. If her current husband was anything like his father had been, their home wouldn’t be a good place for Emily. “Well, I—I can’t say. She has a life in Cincinnati.”

  “We brought a map,” she told Jules. “I looked at Ohio.”

  He nodded.

  “Miss Rose and I planned our trip here with the map. We figured out the miles and the trains to take.”

  “You must have been scared.”

  She thought for a moment. “Leaving the academy was scary.”

  He laced his fingers and rested his chin against them, with his elbows planted on the table.

  “You’re safe here,” he told her earnestly. “I won’t let anything happen to you, and I’ll find somewhere for you to live.”

  “At another academy?” she asked.

  He didn’t want to agree with her now. He’d thought finding a school would be in her best interests…but hearing the way she talked about her life there… She took being alone for granted. There were times growing up when he’d believed being alone would have been better, but he knew differently now. He’d spent plenty of holidays alone or punching cattle, but Emily was a child. She deserved someone to look out for her best interests and provide a home.

  His own father had never been a good provider, and Jules had made up his mind he would never do that to a wife or kids. He was going to have his ranch operating, build a home and be financially stable before he took on the responsibility of anyone other than himself.

  Kids needed someone to love them.

  So far, everything he’d seen told him Olivia Rose was that person for Emily. If things were different—if he’d had more time to fulfill his plans—he might be able to think about keeping the two of them on. But he wasn’t ready, and anything less was unfair to the kid. No matter how hard it was, he had to keep Emily’s best interests in mind.

  And Lord help him, from the look of things now, sending his niece away was going to be plenty hard.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The remainder of the week went much the same. Olivia planned each day with time to make six loaves of bread. Before supper, she sent five with Wayland for the hands.

  On Friday he didn’t show up in the afternoon, so she waited until she saw Coonie returning to the barn and carried out the basket.

  When the cowboy spotted her, he swept his dusty hat from his head, revealing sweaty hair and a white forehead above his tanned face. He grinned ear to ear. “Miss Rose!”

  “Good evening, Mr. Boles. I wanted to make sure the men had bread for their evening meal.” She extended the basket.

  “Thanks, Miss Rose. We never ate such good bread before you got here. Gotta say, supper’s the highlight of my day.”

  “Baking it is my pleasure,” she told him, and she meant it. The men were so appreciative that she enjoyed making the loaves for them. “I was wondering…”

  “Yes, miss?”

  “I can bake a fair pie, too.”

  His eyes lit up and a grin split his face.

  “But I have no idea where to come by apples or peaches or any type of fruit.”

  “Don’t give it another thought,” he told her, cradling the basket in one arm. His mount flicked its tail and raised its head, but Coonie held the beast by the reins without loosening his grip on the basket. “You’ll have fruit for pies.”

  She smiled and thanked him just as Jules rode toward the barn and reined his horse to a halt.

  Coonie backed away and tucked his hat back on his head.

  Jules swung his leg over and dismounted. “Evenin’, Olivia. How did Emily’s studies go today?”

  “Quite well.”

  “I was thinking,” he said. “Since tomorrow is Saturday, and the two of you have been cooped up all week long, we should go for an outing.”

  She used her hand as a shade to keep the setting sun from her eyes and looked up at him. “What sort of outing?”

  “A ride. Into town. Or whatever Emily would like.”

  She agreed with a nod. “I’m sure she’ll be delighted.”

  The next morning when Olivia and Emily exited the cabin dressed in their colorful day dresses, two bushels of apples sat on the ground a few feet from the door. Olivia smiled. “Look! I can make pies.”

  Emily helped her drag the baskets indoors out of the sun. Jules joined them then.

  “Where are we going?” Emily asked.

  “Thought we’d go for a ride, then have a meal in town. That sound okay by you, miss?”

  She tied the ribbons of her bonnet under her chin. “Yes, certainly.”

  Olivia enjoyed the countryside more than she had during their trip to this place. At that time everything had seemed vast and dangerous and uncertain. But Jules knew this land and could protect them should trouble arise. His provision was exactly what she wanted for Emily. This was a safe place, and he was someone who could care for her. It was plain he wasn’t immune to the child’s needs.

  “A lot of the state is prairie,” he said to Emily as he guided the horses pulling the wagon to stop above a wide valley that overlooked a gently flowing azure river. “Which is what you mostly saw coming here. I picked this area to ranch because it’s closer to the mountains, so there’s more hunting, fishing and, of course, more trees available for lumber. The corrals you see are all made from lodgepole pine.” He pointed west. “Those hills are covered with ponderosa pine, spruce, fir, birch, red cedar, ash and alder. This here river has some of the biggest trout I’ve ever clapped eyes on. Tasty, provided the right cook fries them up.”

  “Have I ever had trout, Miss Rose?” Emily asked.

  “I don’t believe so. I can’t recall ever eating much fish at all.”

  “We had chickens,” Emily told him. “How do you get the fish out of the water?” she asked a moment later.

  Jules raised his eyebrows. “With a pole and a line with a hook on it.”

  “Can I try it?”

  He glanced at Olivia. “Sure. I was wondering…about tomorrow.”

  “What about tomorrow?” Olivia asked.

  “It’s Sunday.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, seeing as you’re a God-fearing woman and all, I supposed you’d want to go to church.”

  In Pennsylvania, Olivia had only been able to attend services on Easter. Mrs. Hugh had held a Sunday-morning class in their upstairs alcove, where the teachers and students had gathered to listen to Bible readings and have a silent prayer time. “Why, I’d love to attend church with you,” she answered.

  “With me? Well, I—I, uh….” He tilted his head and scratched his jaw, but then he turned to look at her. “All right then.”

  She smiled hesitantly at the prospect of a church service when it wasn’t even a holiday.

  “Care to get down and walk a spell?” he asked. “There are wildflowers along the banks that slope toward the river.”

  Emily and Olivia agreed they’d enjoy a walk, so he stopped the wagon. He reached up for Emily first, his hands spanning her tiny torso and delivering her safely to stand in the grass. He reached for Olivia next.

  She took the hand he offered. It was strong and callused and warm—and unlike any touch she’d ever known. She leaped easily to the ground and he steadied her with a hand at her back. His attentiveness warmed her more than the summer sun.

  “I’ll walk ahead and you follow in my path,” he said.

  His touch had been brief, but when he released her fingers, she experienced an unexplainable sense of loss. They swiftly learned why he’d gone ahead. The prairie grass wa
s far taller than Olivia’s knees and would have swallowed Emily, but with him flattening broad areas with each step of his booted feet, they were able to follow easily. His gentlemanly consideration was a new and heady experience.

  Just ahead, a sloping field of bright orange flowers took Olivia’s breath away. Emily dashed out from behind Jules to venture into the midst of the colorful flowers. “Look at all these orange flowers, Miss Rose! Have you ever seen anything so pretty?”

  Jules halted and turned for Olivia to catch up.

  “I don’t believe I ever have,” she replied in breathless wonder. “What are they?”

  “Poppies,” he answered.

  “The ones that aren’t open look like they’re bowing their heads,” Emily observed.

  Olivia had never seen Emily so animated or free. Her smile encompassed her entire countenance. Turning in a circle, the child opened her arms wide and lifted her face to the sun. The picture she made, surrounded by flowers and uninhibited in her enjoyment, gave Olivia a bursting sense of contentment.

  Being here was everything she’d ever wanted for Emily…and for herself, but she couldn’t let her thoughts go there.

  If she had a child of her own, she would make her feel special every day. She would make a point of telling her child daily how loved and wanted she was. And she would never let her be lonely. If God ever blessed her with a family of her own, she would make sure there were days like this and she would make them as happy as Emily was at this moment.

  Her throat tightened with the threat of tears, so she took a deep breath to compose herself.

  “I think she likes the poppies,” Jules said from beside her.

  “How could she not?”

  “And you?” he asked.

  She sensed his gaze on her and avoided his eyes. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

  “Takes your breath away, doesn’t it?”

  She turned to find him gazing at her. “That’s it exactly. And to think God created this out in the middle of nowhere, for His own pleasure more than anything else.”