Sixty Acres and a Bride

by Regina Jennings

  “Why not?” Rosa twisted the unfamiliar gold ring around her finger.

  “Well, usually when I study Scripture, I look for a passage that teaches me how to live. I want to read something that tells me what to do.”

  “Can’t you do what’s in that book?”

  His startled expression surprised her. He seemed unable to find his voice, so Rosa continued, “Surely God wouldn’t put it in the Bible if you weren’t supposed to do it, would He?”

  Weston scooted his legs far away from the footstool. “You’re the expert there, Rosa. Ruth and Boaz, was it?”

  “Oh! I . . .” She fumbled for words as her grasp on her ring slipped. The gold band slid from her fingers and plunked on the floor. Her faced burned. She dropped off the footstool onto her knees and frantically skimmed over the rug, fingers splayed in the weak lamplight.

  “What in the world?” Weston lifted his feet high as she swept under his chair and retrieved the missing ring.

  Chastened, Rosa returned to her spot on the footstool.

  Jake’s coughing barely disguised his laughter. “Eliza, it’s past sundown. Ain’t it about time for us to hit the hay?”

  “You lead, I’ll follow.” Eliza dropped her book on the settee, gave Rosa a peck on the cheek, and lumbered out. Jake slowed to slide the double doors of the parlor closed behind his growing wife.

  And they were gone.

  They’d departed so abruptly that they were down the hall before their voices finished echoing across the parlor. The room was quiet, the doors were closed, and suddenly her position at Weston’s knees seemed very intimate. Neither of them spoke. Rosa watched the lamplight. Wes watched her.

  “I’m . . . um . . . sorry.” He squirmed and once again tried to fit his feet between the stool and his chair. “That was wrong of me. Please don’t take offense.”

  She dared a sideways glance.

  “You were right. I shouldn’t take sides between you and Eliza. I should know better—”

  “I’m trying to apologize.”

  “But you didn’t answer my question about Solomon’s Song.”

  He looked away. “I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

  Condescending? Was that the English word? “What do you mean? I’ve been a Christian for several years—”

  “You’ve been my wife for only a day.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “So?”

  He scowled, stood, and put some distance between them. “It’s been a long day. If you’d like a Bible to read, there’s one in the great room. You could take it upstairs, or stay here, or . . . well, do whatever you want, but I’m beat.” He backed toward the escape—running from her, and she wasn’t even chasing him. “Think I’d better turn in for the night. Will you be all right?”

  She nodded, to his apparent relief.

  Rosa didn’t feel like reading after he left, but she didn’t mind exploring some on her own. After he was safely upstairs Rosa located the heavy Bible and flipped through it to see if there were any pictures that would explain the mystery. Naturally, there were not.

  23

  WESTON HAD KNOWN obedience would cost him. Brave words about God giving him freedom and peace flowed effortlessly under the open sky with distant horizons, but put him in a parlor like last week, and he got spooked. He didn’t want to get caught indoors any more than necessary. Moving a table and his whetstone to the porch was a minor inconvenience compared to being cornered in a room alone with her. He just couldn’t trust himself.

  The knife glided over the whetstone with a rhythmic whisking sound. He stopped to test the blade lightly against his thumb and then resumed the motion.

  They were married. He still wasn’t used to the idea. In his wrestling with God, Rosa had figured into a few conversations already. If God wanted him to remarry he could, in his stronger moments, imagine Rosa as his wife. Not that he’d received divine instruction, but he had a hard time imagining a future that didn’t involve his little shepherdess.

  So why was he so skittish?

  Out here, with everything in the hypothetical, he could admit that he cared for her. He could savor memories of their time together and acknowledge their mutual attraction. But when they were roped together, when he could see his own uncertainty reflected in her eyes, he couldn’t move forward. Hadn’t she been hurt already? Who was he to promise this time would be different? He splashed cool water on the stone. All this agonizing would come to nothing, more likely than not. She was bound and determined to keep her distance, and that might be best for both of them.

  The door opened behind him, and Rosa stepped out, bonnet in one hand and a wad of papers in the other. She smiled shyly at him but kept the rocking chair positioned between them.

  Before he could stop himself, he’d taken a full appraisal of her appearance, pleased to see her in her Mexican clothing. “You aren’t wearing your new clothes?”

  “I could change if you think these aren’t good. They make me stand out like a jalapeño in cheese.”

  “Please don’t. We have a sight more cheese around here than we need. I’m glad you’re here to spice it up.”

  Her eyes widened and she quickly looked away.

  For crying aloud. He could’ve bit his tongue off for the smart remark. When would he learn?

  Rosa waved her bonnet toward the barn. “I thought I’d visit Louise today. See how she’s doing. Can I take Smokey?”

  He got to his feet. “You don’t need my permission, but I like to know when you leave and when you plan to return. Always good to have someone watching for you.”

  “I don’t plan to be gone much past dinner. It feels like rain.”

  He’d noticed, too. Every ounce of moisture in August was pure gold. “Sounds good, but you’d set my mind at ease if you carried a pistol, as well. You never know when you’re going to run into a snake—and they come in several varieties.”

  Turns out the pistol was much easier to handle than Louise’s rifle. Weston insisted on a few practice rounds before she set off, and she complied. After each shot Rosa frowned to see her accuracy wasn’t near what she’d achieved on the rifle, but pistols were for close shots. He must have expected an awfully large critter to harass her, because he turned her loose as soon as she could point and fire in the general direction of the target. She worried that she couldn’t hit a snake yet, but he assured her that the snake that gave him the most concern would be an easy target.

  He watched her ride off, leaving her with more than a tinge of guilt. For her sake, he acted pleased with the arrangement, but even Mack had tried to hide his feelings from her. Weston would regret it soon enough, unless she could free him before things got complicated—if he’d let her. Stubborn as a mule. What was the matter with this family?

  The saddle didn’t have a convenient place to stow the pistol. After a few near drops, Rosa took it off her lap and tucked it into her waistband.

  At least they agreed on the problem of Jay Tillerton. Neither of them trusted the man, but they both figured she was safe as long as she was under Weston’s protection. Surely the man was too cowardly to harass a prominent rancher’s wife. Still, a pistol could come in handy in a variety of situations.

  She patted Smokey’s neck as he trotted toward the ranch. A horse would come in handy, too, when Louise and she were back on their own. Would Weston let her buy Smokey? How much would the horse cost? And the pistol? Her stomach did a funny twist as she remembered Weston telling her of a garter belt with a holster she could wear. He said he’d get one for her in Lockhart, and then took his time studying her, as if he could determine what size she wore under her skirt. There was no way she was going to let that man shop for her. He’d done enough already.

  Pistols, holsters, horses—everything cost money. She’d hoped to start work on their winter garden before it rained, but her shopping list had already put her another year behind.

  Still mulling over the thought of Weston in Mrs. Leeth’s Emporium choosing a lace-covered
holster, she almost didn’t see the lady crouching along the creek bank. With her basket at her side, she broke the dry ground with a spade and pulled up some wild onions.

  “I never thought of looking for onions here,” Rosa said.

  The lady startled but didn’t get up. It was Mrs. Tillerton. Rosa should’ve recognized her immediately, since she was wearing the same faded gown as before.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “I beg your pardon.” The long slatted bonnet kept her face in the shadows. “I shouldn’t trespass. I forget someone lives here now.”

  “It’s not trespassing. The creek is common ground. You’re welcome anytime.”

  Mrs. Tillerton stood and brushed the dirt from her knees. “I have all I need. Thank you.” She picked up her basket and followed a rabbit trail through the trees toward her home.

  As generous as she wished to be, Rosa couldn’t help but feel slighted. Maybe Mrs. Tillerton disapproved of her like the women at church did. Maybe she didn’t appreciate having a foreigner living across the fence. Rosa urged Smokey toward the house. They had almost reached the yard when enlightenment arrived. Mrs. Tillerton wanted her farm, of course. That had to be it. The Tillertons had planned to own their place after the fifteenth. A smile crept across Rosa’s lips. At least one good deed came of her midnight trek to the barn.

  After leading Smokey to the trough, Rosa went inside the house and found it empty. She removed her bonnet and hung it on her designated peg, then opened the kitchen pantry. It was well stocked: bags of cornmeal, rice, beans, and sugar lined the shelves. A barrel of potatoes sat near the wall, and strings of peppers, onions, and green beans hung from the rafter. Without her, the little pantry would be bare. Without her last minute effort, Louise would be sharing a bed with Susannah and Ida instead of being mistress of her own ranch.

  Had it been worth it? Somehow she’d gotten tangled up with a man that she’d had no business bothering, but she had saved their farm.

  Rosa pulled the string of peppers to her nose. The sharp flavor yanked tears from her eyes. Louise had done her best to come up with a plan—something was lost in translation, perhaps—and Rosa willingly took the task despite Louise’s misgivings. She should’ve known better, but what else could they have done?

  Of course, their mistakes and misunderstandings hadn’t cost Louise anything. She’d made out like a bandito. But the trip to the courthouse had only temporarily solved their dilemma. Now that they had time to think it through, surely a better solution could be found. Pulling a pepper off and biting the spicy thing, Rosa vowed to work until she was no longer obligated to Weston, or anyone else for that matter.

  “Rosa? Is that you?” Louise pushed the door open, dropped the slop bucket, and rushed in. “Dear, dear Rosa. Where have you been? I’ve been watching for you to walk up the path, and here you come, riding by yourself. I’ve been so lonely. I’m glad you came.”

  Rosa accepted the hug.

  Going to the pump handle, Louise took down tin cups for both of them. “How’s Eliza? She has, what, a few weeks to go?”

  “Yes ma’am, best she can figure. Jake and Weston have their hands full keeping her from doing too much.”

  Louise eyed her sharply. “I don’t doubt it. Speaking of Weston, how’s he doing?”

  Rosa didn’t answer. She took a seat and picked at her fingernails. How was Weston? He was married, though he’d sworn to never be again. How did Louise think he was doing?

  She heard the tin cups drop to the counter.

  “I hoped you would’ve found some consolation by now.” Louise sounded tired—and aged. She looked out the window for a long spell and then filled the cups with water. “I thought you two would suit. According to Mary, he’d half fallen for you already.”

  “He must’ve caught himself.”

  Louise took a long drink and tossed the contents of her cup into the potted philodendron. “If there was something I could do—”

  “Maybe there is.”

  It only took Rosa a moment to run outside and retrieve the papers from her saddlebag. She dropped them on the table and went to lean against the windowsill.

  She heard Louise pick them up and her soft murmuring as she read them to herself. After living at Palmetto, the little white house did seem silent. Almost desolate. Rosa drummed her fingers against the glass pane. She had grown accustomed to Eliza and Octavia’s company, plus the comings and goings of Weston, Jake, and the hands. Moving back here didn’t have the allure she’d expected. Maybe Rosa could relearn to appreciate the peacefulness of this place.

  “So it’s not a divorce. It’s an annulment, like there never was a marriage?”

  “That’s what Molly said.”

  Louise read a little further and flipped the pages, looking for more.

  “You haven’t consummated the marriage?”

  The inevitable question but still awkward. “Of course not.” I made that mistake with your son. “Molly thought I might have a case if I claimed I didn’t have a choice, but is that true? He didn’t kidnap me. I’ve lived under his roof when I had the freedom to leave.”

  “What does Weston say about this?”

  “He wants to let the marriage stand, but if you could see how uncomfortable I’ve made him, you’d realize he’s just being a gentleman. He can’t relax in his own house. I’ll stay there and work if that will pay off our debt sooner, but everyone would be happier if I could find something profitable to do here. What do you think?”

  Louise bounced the papers’ edges against the table until they were tidy. “I don’t know how we can go against Weston’s wishes when he’s the only reason we still have a roof over our heads. Between him and Mary . . . well, they were adamant that you wed. Maybe you should go back home and think it over.”

  “I . . . I am home. I came to turn the garden.” The words rushed from her mouth, “We need two harvests a year if we’re going to make the tax payment and pay Weston back. We can hardly expect him to give us a flock of sheep every year. I thought we could expand the plot.”

  Louise tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear and smoothed her apron over her navy skirt.

  Rosa blinked, not trusting her eyes. Navy skirt? Why wasn’t she wearing mourning? “Where did these clothes come from?”

  “They are Adele Lovelace’s castoffs. She knew I needed them.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with your black skirts?” Rosa’s voice grew sharp. Something was changing, and she didn’t like it at all.

  “You know I’ve been stepping out with Mr. Bradford. How can he court me if I’m in mourning?”

  “Courting? I thought you were friends,” Rosa said.

  “I’ve always thought friends make the best spouses, don’t you? True, things have moved rather quickly, but we’ve known each other for years, and at our age we don’t have time to waste. Besides, he’s got the money together to rebuild his store. That’s what he’s been waiting for. And without you to worry over . . .”

  A phobia. Now Rosa knew the word for why it was hard to breathe. She wanted to smash the glass and hang her head out the window to gulp large amounts of fresh air. She paced, kept moving to keep the walls from closing in around her.

  “You didn’t need this ranch after all. Then why did you let me humiliate myself to save it? Were you keeping it just in case Mr. Bradford didn’t propose, or were you just trying to get rid of me?” Rosa covered her eyes. “Everything I’ve done has been to help you. To keep us together. And now you have other plans? Now you’re telling me it was for nothing?”

  Louise dropped into a chair. “Don’t be mad. It’s family land and should stay with family. You did a good deed, and it could still work out. Weston needs a wife, and you can’t live here alone. Could it be that you belong with him? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you two fell in love? It worked for you and Mack.”

  Rosa’s mouth dropped open. How could Louise be so deluded? Blind, optimistic Louise thought that Eli’s demands had left everyone
satisfied.

  “Mack? You . . .” Rosa swallowed.

  Louise’s mouth turned down, puzzled by Rosa’s tone. “Yes. What about Mack?”

  This woman had made Rosa her daughter. She’d taught her about family, taught her about Christ, and taught her how to be a lady. Rosa couldn’t bring herself to cast any shadow on the cherished memory of her son.

  “Weston can’t take Mack’s place.”

  Because Rosa wouldn’t let him.

  It was amazing how much easier swinging the hoe was now compared to her first planting. Rosa’s arms evidenced new strength, and her aggravation made the task that much more satisfying.

  The unforgiving sun prickled her skin where it was exposed, but a breeze was kicking up, the first in a month. Bent over her hoe she didn’t see how close the clouds had crept until the shadows swept across the rows.

  “Rosa? If they expect you back, you better get started or you’ll get caught in rain. I’ll wrap up some dinner for you.”

  It wasn’t even time for their midday meal, and Louise was going to call it a day? But what did Louise care? The success of the ranch had always depended on Rosa.

  “It’ll pass.” Rosa swung her hoe again.

  “No. It’s moving in rather slowly. It could be around all day. You need to go before the creek rises.” Louise’s tone was apologetic, but she didn’t leave. It looked like she intended to wait until her stubborn daughter-in-law did as she said.

  With one last thunk, Rosa pulled the hoe free, took it to the barn, and then strode toward the house, her boots covering the yard in long strides. Why was Louise interfering? Couldn’t she see what needed to be done? Now even Louise, who’d always relied on her, was telling her what to do.

  Rosa’s frustration was at a peak as she entered the tidy kitchen. It didn’t help that Louise tried to calm her anger down.

  “Don’t get upset. You should be relieved that you don’t have this responsibility on your shoulders any longer.”

  “I’m supposed to take care of you. I left my home and family so I could help you. Now you don’t need me.”