“Well, I am.”
“No one knows that, especially Kent.”
“He’s starting to figure it out.”
“And you know this because…?”
“Because he ate my stew even though it tasted awful,” Rose replied, inspecting her work on his shirt. “Only a man who wanted to be with me would put himself through that agony.”
“Your reasoning never ceases to amaze me.”
Giving her sister a shrug, she asked, “Do you know where he is?”
“He’s helping Eli clean out stalls.”
Rose grimaced. “Why does he have to be out there doing that? He should be doing something fun, not doing one of the worst chores around here.”
“He offered. He said he wanted to do something to earn his keep, and Eli said he could use help with the stalls so he went with him.”
“It’s just awful that Eli talked him into doing that.”
“Eli didn’t talk him into it. He offered.”
“Only because he feels sorry for Eli.”
Harriett let out a long sigh. “If it makes you feel better to believe that, then believe it. I have clothes to put away.”
“I’ll change into pants then head out to the stable so I can help them.”
Laughing as Rose hurried to their bedroom, she called out, “Who would have thought I’d see the day when you got excited about mucking out a stall?”
Rose shot her an amused look. “It’s not the stall I’m excited about seeing and you know it. My future husband is out there.” Then, before her sister could argue with her, she slipped into the bedroom and shut the door so she could change.
***
Kent wiped the sweat away from his forehead then wiped the back of his neck. “Are we done?” he asked Eli as the boy put his rake away.
“Yes, though the chore will need to be done again in the future,” Eli said and took his rake from him so he could put it with the other one. “No one likes doing it so we have to take turns. But we’ll get to play on the piano this evening, right?”
“I promised I would if you showed me how to pitch in and help out around here.” Kent was tired of feeling like he wasn’t doing his part to help the Larsons out. He smiled at the boy. “You might even get to play another simple song tonight.”
“Alright!”
“I said it was simple. No more than three notes.”
Despite his disappointment, Eli nodded. “I’ll be playing less simple songs in the future.”
“As long as you stick with it and keep practicing. That’s the key to being a good pianist. You can’t give up, even if you have to keep playing the same songs to the point where you want to quit.”
“I won’t give up. I want to be as good as you.”
Mr. Larson came into the barn and handed Eli a pail. “Take care of the cow. Mr. Craftsman is here and I want to purchase some of his cattle.”
“Yes, Pa.”
As Eli went to the stall where a cow waited for him, Kent turned to Mr. Larson. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”
Mr. Larson shook his head. “Take a break. Everything’s good for the moment.”
Kent followed him out of the barn while Mr. Larson went over to Mr. Craftsman’s wagon which was pulling three cattle. Mr. Craftsman’s son called out a greeting to Mr. Larson as he hopped down. The cattle mooed as the wagon came to a stop.
Since Kent didn’t feel like going back inside the barn, he sat on the bench next to the barn. It faced the house, and when Kent caught himself glancing at the front door for the third time, he realized he was hoping Rose would come out. Criticizing himself, he forced his gaze off the door and pulled off his gloves. Setting them and the bandana on the bench, he inspected his hands, surprised to see a blister forming on his right thumb. Other than that, his hands were smooth, giving away the fact that he’d never done any physical labor.
“Are you going to the bachelor auction Joel Larson’s having on Saturday?”
Kent looked up at Mr. Craftsman’s son. “Pardon?”
“Joel Larson. Rose’s uncle. Don’t you know about the bachelor auction?”
Massaging his hands, Kent shrugged. “I think I heard something about it, but I didn’t pay much attention.”
Rose had been giggling about something that he had brushed off as one of her many fantasies involving him.
“I’m going to be one of the men who’ll be in the bachelor auction,” the young man said. “My name is Stan Craftsman, by the way.”
Kent nodded. “Kent Ashton.”
“It’s for a good cause, you know. The bachelor auction. It’s to raise money so Joel can buy better medical supplies and equipment.”
Figuring Stan wanted him to say something, Kent finally replied, “That’s good. And Joel’s a good doctor.”
“I heard you were attacked in an alley. Did they find the men who did it?”
“No.”
“Sorry that happened.”
He shrugged. “I’ve been through worse.”
“Really? Worse than being left for dead in an alley?”
Kent didn’t feel like telling Stan his life story, so he asked, “What is this bachelor auction you’re going to be in?”
“Oh, it’s where women get to bid on the man of their choice and then spend the afternoon with him.”
It was then that Kent remembered the man who told Rose he hoped she’d bid on him that day they were in town. Rose had more than one man who was hoping she’d try to spend the afternoon with him. Clearing his throat, he shoved aside the unpleasant image of a group of men surrounding Rose and begging her to bid for them.
“I have heard about the bachelor auction,” he finally told Stan.
“I’m hoping Rose bids on me,” Stan admitted, adjusting his hat to block the sun from hitting his eyes. “She can have anyone she wants. I know she’s not likely to pick me. But a man can dream, can’t he?”
Kent caught sight of Rose leaving the house. Stan jumped up from the bench and hurried over to her. Uncomfortable with the way it bothered him that Stan was talking to her, he turned his attention back to his hands. These were the hands of a man who hadn’t worked on a farm. Investing, acquiring and running businesses, increasing wealth from the comfort of his desk… These were things he knew, things he was good at, things his uncle had trained him in. That was his future. And he’d go to California and leave all of this—Rose and blisters and all—behind.
Stan laughed from across the lawn, and Kent chanced a glance in his direction, noting the way Rose shook her head as she held a neatly folded blue shirt in her hands. Her gaze met his and he quickly turned his attention to the fields where corn blew in the breeze. How he wished he’d never met her. She was nothing but trouble, and he’d had enough trouble because of women to last a lifetime.
After another minute of cooling off, he decided to go over to Mr. Larson and Mr. Craftsman to see if he could do anything to help out. The two men were laughing, something that surprised him. Rose had told him that the two hadn’t always gotten along, but apparently, whatever happened in their past had been resolved. From where he stood, it didn’t seem like the two had ever been at odds with each other.
Mr. Larson, who was running his hand along a cow’s back, glanced his way. “Kent, this is Neil Craftsman. His oldest daughter is married to my oldest son. Neil, this is Kent Ashton, the young man I told you about.”
Neil reached out and shook Kent’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Kent nodded.
“Are you familiar with cattle?” Mr. Craftsman asked.
“All I know about them is what I’ve seen on this farm,” Kent admitted.
“They’re easy,” Mr. Craftsman replied then looked at Kent. “Want to lead one to the pasture?”
Kent studied the three animals. He had no real interest in handling any of them. Fortunately, he was spared from having to answer when Rose called out his name. Usually, he wouldn’t welcome her interruptions, but in this case, it was a reprie
ve because he didn’t think he could say no to Mr. Larson, not after all the things Mr. Larson had done for him.
“Pa, do you mind if I talk to Kent for a moment?” she asked, her fingers tracing the collar of the shirt in her arms.
“It’s fine as long as Kent wants to talk to you,” he replied.
Since it was either talk to her or help with the cows, Kent walked away from the wagon. “What is it, Rose?”
“Remember when we went to town last week and I asked you what color you liked?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with excitement.
“Yes.” His gaze lowered to the shirt then over to Stan who headed over to the wagon where his father was leading the first cow to the pasture. Returning his attention to her, he said, “I hope you didn’t go through that trouble for me.” He motioned to the shirt.
“It was no trouble at all.” She smiled and unfolded it so he could see it. “I might not cook all that well, but I can sew. I hope you don’t mind, but I used Adam’s measurements since you fit his shirt well enough.”
“You made this? From nothing?”
“No, not nothing, silly.” She giggled. “I got some cotton material at the mercantile and used a needle and thread. Oh, and I added some buttons. It’s not fancy, but it’ll last for years. I was careful while I stitched it together.”
“You made this,” he touched the shirt, “from that fabric you got at the mercantile?”
“Of course. I told you I was going to.”
He was so used to the tailor coming in and taking his measurements that he hadn’t thought about what the tailor went through when he made the clothes. “And you did this in one week?”
“I know it took me a little longer than usual, but I wanted to make sure I got the measurements right. I kept rechecking them.”
“You shouldn’t have gone through all this trouble for me. I can buy a shirt any time I want one.”
Or at least he would once his money came in. But for some reason, this shirt seemed much better than any of the others he’d worn or could buy, and he chose not to dwell on why he felt that way.
“I wanted to make it for you.” Her smile faltered. “You don’t like it?”
“No, I do. It’s a good shirt.” He didn’t know how he could explain how he felt so she’d understand it. “I don’t deserve this shirt, Rose.”
“Of course, you do. You’re going to be my husband. I’ll make you more shirts in the future.”
With a sigh, he let go of the shirt. “No, Rose, I won’t be your husband. I’m heading out to California as soon as my money comes in. When that happens, you won’t ever see me again.”
“That’s not true. And deep down, you know it’s not.”
He glanced at Stan who led one of the cattle into the pasture. “Why aren’t you going to marry him? He knows all about taking care of animals and living out on the farm. You two are better suited for each other.”
“I don’t care for him.”
“I saw the way he was talking to you. He obviously cares for you.”
“I know, but I’m all wrong for him. He’d never be happy with me. He’d be much better suited for my sister, and she fancies him.”
“Well, he doesn’t fancy her. Anyone paying half attention can see that.”
“But I love you and always will.”
He shook his head and headed for the barn, needing to put some distance between himself and Rose. He didn’t want to think of the last time he heard a woman tell him that, nor did he want to do anything to encourage another woman in her ridiculous pursuit of him. Perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised that she followed him right into the barn, but he was.
Stopping when he reached the center of the barn, he turned around to face her. “Why don’t you give up?”
“You don’t give up when you love someone.”
He gritted his teeth. “Yes, you would. If you married Stan, you’d fall in love with him and forget all about me. You wouldn’t want me in your life. You’d forget all the times you told me you wanted to marry me. It’d be as if none of it ever happened. So go and be with him. Give him the chance you’ve been denying him.” He hadn’t meant for his pitch to rise as he kept talking, but he couldn’t help it.
“Is that what she did?” she softly asked, her gaze tender.
For a moment, all he could do was stare at her. “What?”
“The woman you once loved. She said she loved you but married someone else and acted as if you never meant anything to her.”
He glowered at her, hating the fact that she was so perceptive. How could she know so much about him? He hadn’t told anyone about his past. He didn’t know what was worse: realizing she could detect so much about him or the fact that she actually seemed sorry for him.
“I’m not her,” she assured him. “You won’t ever have to worry that I’ll change my mind.”
In frustration, he threw his gloves on the floor and glared at her. “I’m not going to marry you. Ever.”
Before she could argue, he stormed out of the barn and hurried to the house, praying she wouldn’t follow him. And as luck would have it, at least for the moment, she didn’t.
Chapter Twelve
Rose dug the money from her pocket and counted it. Three dollars and sixty cents. It took her years to save it and today she’d use all of it if she had to. She just hoped no one else had more than her.
“Rose, are you ready to go to the bachelor auction?” Harriett asked as she came into their bedroom and picked up her bonnet.
Nodding, she slipped the coins into her dress pocket. “I’m ready. Who are you going to bid on?”
Her sister shrugged and turned from her. “I don’t know. The whole thing seems silly to me. What was Uncle Joel thinking when he came up with the idea of women bidding on men?”
“He wants to raise money for more medical supplies, and he figured this would be a fun way to do it.” Rose checked her hair and pinched her cheeks to add more color to them.
“I know that, but it seems wrong somehow.”
“What could be wrong with it?”
“Well, wouldn’t it make more sense if men bid on women?”
“Oh, don’t be so boring.” Rose gathered her bonnet and tucked it under her arm. “I think it’s about time the women got to choose the men they wanted instead of waiting for the men to choose them.”
Harriett set her hand on her hip and studied her sister. “Why don’t you tell me the truth?”
“What truth?”
“You’re afraid if the men got to bid, you wouldn’t get to spend the afternoon with Kent. You know very well he wouldn’t bid on you.”
“Then it works to my advantage that I’ll be the one bidding for him.”
“Did you convince our uncle to switch things so women bid on the men instead of the other way around?”
Letting out an uneasy chuckle, Rose finished buttoning her boots and hurried out of the room. “Why would Uncle Joel listen to me?”
Harriett followed close behind. “Because you two are a lot alike?”
“Since we’re a lot alike, then it just means he did this without my prompting.” Before her sister could reply, she bounded down the steps. “Adam, you couldn’t get any more handsome than you already are,” she said as she entered the parlor.
Her brother grimaced and turned from the mirror. Placing his hat on his head, he faced her and Harriett. “I don’t know why I agreed to this. I feel like an animal being put up for the slaughter.”
Rose giggled and pulled her bonnet over her head, tucking her hair under it. “You’re not an animal.” She rolled her eyes and glanced at her sister. “Can you believe him?”
“It’s not an easy feeling when you know you can’t pick who you’ll be spending all afternoon with. And all for what? Just so our uncle can get new equipment?”
“It’s important he gets newer things. People will benefit from them. You should feel honored. You get to help save lives.”
“Some honor,” he grumbled. “I
hope whoever bids on me is a good cook.”
“Oh! That reminds me. I need to grab my basket.” Rose rushed to the kitchen. “Which one is mine?” she asked Harriett who was still following her.
“It’s the one with sandwiches and rolls.”
“Right.” She lifted the lid and made sure she had the right one. Glancing at Harriett’s basket, she ventured, “I don’t suppose you’d switch with me?”
“Definitely not. I spent considerable time on this meal.”
“I know.” Rose’s meal looked pathetic next to the one her sister made. Her sister had fried chicken, cinnamon rolls, pickled beets and dainty cakes. Sometimes, like now, she wished she had her sister’s talent for cooking tasty food. She bit her lower lip as her sister adjusted the blanket over the covered food. “I’ll trade you some rolls for the dainty cakes or a piece of chicken.”
Harriett shook her head and closed the lid on her basket. “No. You’ll just have to be your fun, lovable self and hope the man doesn’t notice what he’s eating.” She picked up her basket and smiled. “That won’t be hard to do. I don’t think a good meal means as much as a woman who is fun to be with.”
“You’re fun to be with, Harriett.”
“Not as fun as you.”
“Of course, you are. Men just need to spend some time with you to find that out.” Rose slipped the handles of the basket under her arm. “All the men who don’t end up with you are going to take one look at what you made and wished they were sharing the meal with you. I hope Kent doesn’t mind my meager attempt at cooking.”
As the two headed for the front door, Harriett said, “He already knows you’re not the best cook around.”
“It doesn’t help that I made that stew.” She knew, however, that her cooking wasn’t why he protested being with her. No. There was a lot more to it than how she cooked. There was his past and the woman who was in it. But his past heartache only delayed the inevitable. They would still end up getting married. She knew it as sure as she knew her own name. With a sigh, she said, “You’d think Kent could save us all a lot of time and marry me sooner rather than later.”
Catching Kent Page 9