Rose

by Jill Marie Landis

  He knew G.W. had spent the day running Rose’s errands for her. Kase had watched the nappy-headed boy run from one end of town to the other, first to the depot and then down to Al-Ray’s. She kept the youngster so busy G.W. hadn’t pestered him all afternoon. Not that it bothered Kase. Not in the least. If the boy wanted to earn his penny candy elsewhere, good riddance.

  By now she had probably unpacked the huge leather-strapped trunk he had seen John Tuttle haul out of his delivery wagon and slide across the sidewalk into the shop. He knew for a fact, after observing his mother and sister, that once a woman unpacked her goods she was ready to stay put, at least until she’d had the chance to wear everything she had hauled with her. That thought led him to speculate on whether the rest of Rose’s clothes were too big for her, not to mention as old-fashioned as the black velvet dress.

  Kase scuffed the sole of his boot against the edge of the sidewalk and stared at the darkened storefront. She was probably in the back room with the connecting door closed; that had to be the reason he could not see any light within. No need to stop by and see how she fared. None at all.

  But he stepped off the boardwalk and crossed over to her side of the street anyway.

  The front door to the little shop was locked. The faintest glow of light, a rectangle of golden yellow in the darkness, outlined the small door to the back room. The hum of low voices broken by the occasional high-pitched giggle of one of Flossie’s girls issued from Paddie’s next door. There was no one on the street. Deciding things were quieter than a hole in the ground and feeling not the least bit hungry yet, he moved toward the back of Rose’s empty store.

  Tired beyond exhaustion, Rosa had satisfied her hunger with a few slices of bread and a bowl of stew made of an unfamiliar meat that Zetta had brought over. After thanking her neighbor profusely, Rosa fell upon the food, remembering that just last night she had sworn she would never feel like eating again. Time and hard work seemed to have a way of healing all sorts of wounds.

  Rosa glanced around the room, happy with the progress she’d made in just a few short hours. Her trunk stood against the back wall yawning open to reveal a few items still neatly stacked in the bottom. The few dresses she owned lined the wall above the cot, hanging on the very hooks that Giovanni had once used. The newly washed table stood in the center of the room and atop it were stacked the cups, saucers, bowls, and plates that had been safely wrapped in the linens packed in the trunk. Two small photographs, one of her mother and father and one of Giovanni, were on a crooked shelf near the stove.

  The familiar sights and smells of Corio had been dredged up from the very depths of the trunk as Rosa unwrapped her precious possessions. The linen sheets had all been embroidered by her sister and Zia Rina. Handwoven runners and lace doilies had been lovingly wrapped and folded around each piece of china. Rose petals and spices were scattered among her belongings to keep them smelling sweet. Fragrant muslin packets of basil and oregano, anise, and thyme brought back bittersweet memories of Zia Rina. It was not difficult for Rosa to imagine the old woman sitting before the fire, bent over the squares of fabric as she sewed them together.

  Rosa laughed aloud when she found two old iron keys at the bottom of the trunk. Ever cautious, Zia Rina had secretly sent them along for Rosa to use to guard against evil. Whenever a strong wind blew down a sapling or any other signs of misfortune materialized, Zia Rina would always cross two keys to drive away the bad luck that was sure to follow.

  “Grazie, Zia Rina,” Rosa whispered aloud in the empty room as she hung the keys on a nail beside the door where they would lock out bad luck. She looked at the collection of unpacked goods and smiled.

  A single candle lit the room. There were four of them, each hand-dipped in scented wax and carried across the sea to be used during the first meal she served in her new home. But instead of sharing dinner with Giovanni, she had eaten alone in the semidarkness, leaning back against the now spotless stove. Aching for rest, she glanced over at the cot. She had beaten the dust off and covered the cot with a sheet so pristine in its whiteness it seemed a shame to use it on so humble a bed. The night was warm, balmy enough that she would need no other cover.

  Slowly, in the dim light that cast tall, flickering shadows over the walls of the tiny room, Rosa began to unbutton the front of the brown dress that had faded to near beige. She drew it off her shoulders and let the bodice hang from the still buttoned waistband. The white camisole beneath clung to her damp skin, testimony to the heat. She unbuttoned the first three buttons. A pail of water on the unlit stove served as her wash basin as she dipped her cupped hands in again and again, splashing the refreshing liquid over her parched and dusty skin. Eyes closed, she reached out, searching for the linen towel she had looped over the oven door handle.

  The slightest hint of a footfall outside caused Rosa to freeze just as her fingertips reached the towel. Holding her breath, she hastily dried her face and listened, head cocked to the side, for another sound. With one hand she held the towel pressed against the valley between her breasts, slim protection for whatever danger lurked outside. As she stood staring at the door, too afraid to move, she heard the sound again. There was definitely someone moving around out there.

  G.W., she thought. Relieved, she started to step forward. Then she realized it was long past sunset and the child would be in bed.

  When the door handle moved slightly to the right and then to the left, her heart began to pound so intensely that she thought she was going to faint. But as the door swung slowly open, she felt a strange, cool calm come over her. She would face the intruder and deal with him. Or die trying.

  Determined to pick up the one remaining piece of wood and use it as a weapon, she moved toward the box just as the door opened completely.

  Kase Storm stepped over the threshold.

  Rosa did not know whether to grab the piece of wood and bring it down on the crown of his head or feel relieved at the sight of his familiar face. She did neither. Instead, she clutched the towel against her breasts and wondered at the reason for his intrusion.

  “You left your door unlocked,” he stated bluntly.

  She nodded, unable to do more than stare and wonder what he wanted.

  He returned her stare, determined to frighten her. She needed to learn what could easily happen to someone so vulnerable. “You don’t realize there are all kinds of drifters who ride into town every night,” he said, his eyes roving over her.

  “Drifters?”

  He stepped closer. “A woman like you shouldn’t be living here alone at all, let alone with the door unlocked after sundown.” He watched her slowly mounting panic and envisioned his mother’s eyes wide with horror as she faced her attacker.

  Rose reached up with her free hand to push aside a tendril of hair that had slipped free of her braids. It felt damp as she looped it behind her ear.

  Kase could almost smell her fear. It was all too visible in the way she had begun to tremble. He knew he should stop what he was doing to her, but a cruel need to frighten some sense into her spurred him on. “What do you intend to do when some cowhand decides to walk in here the way I did? Have you thought about that?”

  “No, I—”

  “What if a man were to walk up to you like this?” In two strides he closed the space between them until they were standing toe to toe.

  “I—” Rosa swallowed and tried to break the hold of his piercing gaze.

  “What if some cowpoke were to put his hands on you, like this?” The sight of his dark fingers pressed into her white flesh shook him to the core. A man had roughly used his own mother once, forced his way into her flesh and left his seed inside her. That man’s blood now surged through his veins.

  He let go of Rose as if he had been scorched, but he did not back away.

  Her mouth suddenly went dry, and Rosa licked her lips.

  His voice was even softer now, huskier. He seemed a part of the shadows that snaked and twisted on the wall as the flame wavered on th
e slight evening breeze. “What would you do then, Rose? And if one of them decided to kiss you?” He put his hands on her again. “Pull you to him like this?”

  He expected her to fight, but a gentle tug was all it took to bring her up against him. She was no longer staring into the depths of his eyes, but at the full lips so near her own. He smelled of dust and heat and leather. Her body acted on its own, and she raised herself up on tiptoe until their lips met.

  If he was surprised by her spontaneous move, he did not show it as he pulled her against his hard length. One warm palm rested at the vulnerable point at the back of her neck while the other easily found a resting place at her waist. The towel, which she still clutched in her fingertips, was trapped between them, but it did not prevent Rosa from feeling the sharp pointed tin star he wore on his shirtfront press into the tender skin of her breast.

  She was expecting a warm, undemanding kiss. The kind she had shared with Giovanni. Instead, Kase Storm’s mouth swooped down to cover hers with a vengeance. His kiss was hard and demanding, unlike anything she had ever known or imagined. The pressure of his lips forced hers to part. His irreverent tongue teased the outline of her mouth for the slightest moment before it slipped inside, warming her to her toes as it explored, caressed, and tempted her to respond. Rosa was startled for a moment, afraid that this giant of a man was beyond her control. Frightened by the power of his kiss as well as her own startling reaction to it, Rosa sought to turn her head and draw her lips away. She was surprised when he easily complied and broke off just as suddenly as he had begun.

  Releasing her abruptly, Kase stepped away. He had not expected her to allow him such liberties. Nor had he expected to be moved by her response. Rose had been frightened, but not enough to fight him. Had she been stunned into acquiescence, or was she so pliable out of mere curiosity? Whatever the reason, it seemed his crude attempt to persuade her to leave had backfired. He was the one shaken by the exchange.

  Rosa was aware only of the swift beating of her heart, the mingled sounds of their uneven breathing, and his cold, assessing stare.

  He reached for the top button of her camisole top. Rosa was not certain, but she thought she saw his fingers tremble slightly as he slipped the first, the second, and then the third button through the corresponding buttonholes. Then Kase Storm cleared his throat and straightened his already perfectly centered hat. “From now on, I suggest you keep that door locked.”

  As he left the room and silently closed the door, Rosa stood motionless and stared after him. The moment he was gone, she knew that she need not fear any strangers outside the unlocked door. No cowboy drifter could cause her any more shame than she had already brought upon herself by allowing Kase Storm to kiss her. With trembling fingertips, Rosa touched her lips. They still tingled from the pressure of his kiss. Was she no better than the women down the street? How could she have tarnished Giovanni’s memory here in his very own store? Her reaction to the marshal’s kiss frightened her more than the fact that he had kissed her. After all, what was the man to do when she’d practically thrown herself into his embrace?

  She knew Kase Storm had only come to warn her, perhaps even frighten her into leaving town. Rosa shook her head, still clutching the towel to her breasts. If he meant to scare her, he had succeeded. But she was not afraid of him.

  It was the wild, erratic beat of her heart and the warm arousal she had experienced in his arms that had scared her the most.

  Alerted by the sound of revelry in the Ruffled Gaiter, Kase paused outside for a moment before he stepped through the swinging doors of the saloon. A few cowboys from Rawlins’s Mountain Shadows Ranch were scattered about the room, some engaged in card games while others bellied up to the bar. In a far corner, Zach shared a table with Flossie and her girls. Intent on gnawing at a chicken leg, he glanced up as Kase crossed the room, then concentrated on his food once again.

  “Hi, Kase. Pull up a chair and have some chicken. Zach brought you a plateful.” Flossie scooted her chair aside to make room for him between herself and Chicago Sue.

  Kase grabbed a chair from a nearby table and joined the group. Young Chicago Sue gave him a shy glance and a throaty “Hiya, Kase,” as she handed him the plate of fried chicken, biscuits, and gravy that Zach pushed across the table.

  Mira leaned back in her chair and took a long swallow of beer, then tossed her loose mane of riotous brown hair away from her face. “If you all don’t mind, I’m gonna go back to the house and freshen up for tonight.” She gave Kase a pouty, sensual smile and a look of open invitation before she stood and left the table.

  Felicity, shortest of the four girls, a beauty with skin the color of a creamy white lily and bouncing hair as black as midnight, shook her head, disgusted by Mira’s obvious advance.

  Satin, with ruddy pink cheeks and a jovial smile that danced on her lips and lit her sparkling blue eyes, giggled. She returned her concentration to her dinner. Her plump frame attested to the fact that she, unlike everyone else in town, enjoyed Bertha Matheson’s cooking. Kase thought the girl looked more like a milkmaid than a whore, but then all of Flossie’s girls—except Mira—looked as if they belonged in a schoolroom.

  “I thought you were going to eat at Bertha’s, Zach,” Kase said as he reached for a golden brown chicken thigh.

  Before Zach could respond, Flossie explained. “This sweet man here was ordering your dinner when Chicago and I went to collect ours. Why, do you know, Kase, when I mentioned to Zach that I’m good enough to buy chicken from Bertha but that she don’t consider me good enough to eat at her boardin’house, why, he up and brought his dinner over here so he could eat with us?”

  Kase glanced across the table at Zach. The scout was inordinately preoccupied with his meal. “He’s a real knight in shining armor,” Kase said.

  “Speakin’ of knights in shining armor,” Zach shot back, “what’s the widow woman up to?”

  “That Italian girl?” Felicity asked. “I’m dying to see her.”

  Floss nodded. “She’s a beauty. Don’t you think so, Kase?”

  “I saw her. She came over today—” Chicago Sue began, but Flossie cut her off with a quick shake of her head.

  “Hell if I know what she’s going to do,” Kase said, answering Zach while ignoring Flossie’s obvious attempt to get him to comment on Rosa’s looks.

  Zach dipped a biscuit into his gravy. “Didn’t you find out anything?”

  “No.”

  “Zach here tried to get me to bet two bits that you’d have her talked into leavin’ town tomorrow,” Flossie said between bites.

  Kase frowned. Since when was any of mis their business?

  “Shoot, you was gone long enough.” Zach bit into the biscuit and then tried to tear at it with his teeth. “Damn!”

  Satin began giggling again, her round cheeks pinkening as she watched Zach’s antics.

  “Watch it,” Paddie called out from behind the bar. “A fella was damn near killed in here one night when Mira threw one of Bertha’s biscuits at him!”

  Kase listened to the laughter that filled the room and smiled, but held back from entering the round of easy banter that followed. With his thoughts centered on the building next door, he failed to notice the knowing looks that passed between Floss and Zach. Try as he might, he could not dismiss the memory of Rose Audi, half dressed and doe eyed, as she clutched her damp chemise to her breasts.

  He had not meant to enjoy kissing her. It was the furthest thing from his mind when he entered the near empty store, but when she brushed aside the stray lock of hair and looked up at him, wide-eyed and trembling, he could not help but step closer. Her soft, pale skin, cast in golden candlelight, had begged to be touched. Once his fingertips connected with her warm flesh, he felt as if he had been jolted by lightning. But when he pulled her closer, when she raised herself up to meet his lips instead of pushing him away...

  Kase shifted uncomfortably in his chair and tried to forget the way she’d felt in his arms. He had an id
ea it would be just as difficult as ignoring the insistent ache in his loins. It wouldn’t do to let his thoughts keep riding roughshod down the trail they were taking. Not at all. Not here in public.

  Let her sleep there all alone tonight, he thought. The place was dismal enough in the daytime, but in the dim light, the dark, empty corners would soon close in on her. He silently bet himself she would move out in the morning without any coaxing at all.

  Zetta’s rooster woke Rosa at dawn. The morning passed all too quickly as she continued her cleaning assault on the empty store. At noon, she washed and changed into her black traveling dress and prepared to visit Al-Ray’s general store. She decided to forgo wearing the velvet hat, afraid that trying to keep it anchored on her head while carrying a basket of groceries might prove too complicated a task. She straightened the overlarge gown once more, picked up her reticule and empty basket, and opened the front door.

  Kase Storm blocked her exit.

  The man seemed to fill the doorway, his powerful build and height overwhelming her once again. Rosa stepped back and tried to speak but was at a loss for words. She realized she was thinking in Italian again and fought for command of the English she knew. For some reason, Kase Storm drove all rational thought from her mind.

  He folded his arms across his chest and appeared all too smug as he said, “Leaving?”

  She paused for a moment while she collected her thoughts. “Yes. To the store.”

  “Oh.”

  Rosa wondered if his shuttered expression hid disappointment or relief.

  “Mind if I walk with you?”

  A sudden picture of herself half dressed and leaning into his embrace flashed through her mind. She stared at the badge on his striped shirtfront, traced the line of buttons up to his white collar, and then tried to see around him to the street beyond. “Va bene.” She nodded.