Give My Love to Rose

by Nicole Sturgill

  “Marston! Mama said it’s time to come eat!” Langley called. “We already said grace so we wouldn’t ruin your appetite this time.”

  Marston sighed and pushed himself to his feet, cursing at the searing pain in his leg. ‘Go on, you big bad outlaw. Go running to the boy.’ Great now the voice in his head was mocking him—Marston wondered if that was a sign his brain had gone completely soft.

  Despite being angry with himself for following orders, Marston headed toward the house to eat supper. This would be his last night here. Marston would leave while everyone slept and be gone come morning.

  Chapter Nine

  Marston saddled his gray under the cover of darkness and led the horse out of the barn. His heart was heavy as he prepared to climb into the saddle. Then the unmistakable sound of feminine sobs reached his ears and stopped Marston in his tracks.

  Rose was crying.

  Not his problem. Not his problem. Not his problem. It was no us. Marston wasn’t going anywhere until he figured out what was wrong with her. He hitched the horse to the newly repaired corral fence and headed toward the cabin.

  The kitchen shutters were open and Marston peeked inside to find her leaning against the counter with her forehead pressed against the overhead cabinets. She wasn’t crying loud. It was a quiet cry accompanied by body-wracking spasms. Marston felt his heart constrict in his chest and there was no denying it, not matter how badly he wanted to. Marston cared about Rose.

  He entered the cabin without a sound and without taking the time to give thought to what he was doing, Marston strode to her, grabbed her arm and spun her around and pulled her into his chest, holding her tightly against him.

  Rose stiffened at first and Marston wondered if she was going to fight against him but then her entire body softened and she fell into him, clinging to his shirt and sobbing. Her entire body shook and trembled with the intensity of her tears but slowly as Marston stroked her back, the wave of sorrow seemed to subside.

  Marston felt her squirming and realized that the cold metal bullets in his bandolier were digging into her cheek. Marston quickly released his hold on her and retreated to the other side of the kitchen table, placing plenty of distance between them.

  Rose’s face was red and streaked with tears as she stared at him. “Are you okay?” Marston questioned, once he had control of his voice once again. Holding Rose in his arms had been the nearest to heaven that he had ever been and his body seemed to have been burned by her closeness.

  “Yes,” Rose whispered, her gaze dropping awkwardly. “I had a bad dream.” She swiped at her cheeks, angry and embarrassed that she had been caught crying—especially by a man who had probably never been weak a day in his life.

  “Must have been a hell of a dream,” Marston noted. He filled a glass with water from the pitcher on the counter and placed it in Rose’s hand, careful to keep their fingers from touching.

  Rose took a long drink as Marston once again positioned himself on the opposite side of the table. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself back into Marston’s strong arms. Being held against him had caused a peace to wash over her like Rose had never felt before. Just once in her life she wanted to be weak and allow someone else to be strong for her…

  But she didn’t have that luxury. Marston was all dressed up and ready to leave and Rose had a son to care for and a million worries taking up her plate.

  “I’m fine,” she assured tightly.

  “Were they dreams about your past?”

  Rose shivered. “Yes. But they aren’t something I’m going to talk about.” At least not to a man who’s preparing to leave me behind.

  Marston shrugged. “Fair enough.”

  “Are you leaving?” Rose somehow found the strength to ask.

  Marston’s grip on the chair in front of him tightened until Rose feared for the well-being of the wood. “Yes. It’s for the best.”

  “The best of who?” Rose inquired, setting her glass down on the counter.

  “For you and Langley, of course,” Marston replied. He wasn’t what these people needed. All he would bring them was trouble.

  Rose wrapped her arms around herself, shielding herself from the pain. Marston found his gaze drawn to the way the lantern light illuminated the thin fabric of her sleeping gown and her soft body beneath—that was an image that would be haunting his dreams for many nights to come.

  “I think you’re doing it for you,” she countered. Rose picked her glass back up and Marston realized her hand was shaking.

  He felt a pain deep in his chest but shook his off. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I warned you that I don’t care about anybody but myself.”

  Rose turned her side to him and took a long sip of her water as she stared out the window. Silence reigned. An uncomfortable silence that seemed to weigh ten tons.

  “Langley will be upset,” Rose finally whispered.

  “The kid will be fine,” Marston snapped, his stomach filling with a painful ache he didn’t care to name.

  Rose still didn’t glance his way. “If you’re ever back around this way….”

  Marston cut her off. “I don’t get to Louisiana often.”

  He stared at her profile and saw her lip tremble. With horror Marston realized she was once again about to cry.

  She was going to cry over him.

  The pain he’d been feeling before was nothing compared to the pain he felt when he saw that bottom lip quivering as Rose fought back her tears. Marston had no idea what to say and so he said nothing at all. He simply left the cabin, climbed on his horse and rode away like the hounds of hell were on his heels.

  ***

  Rose collapsed to her knees on the kitchen floor. She had let herself hope—made herself believe—but no. As Marston’s hoofbeats faded into the distance, Rose realized she was once again alone and he wasn’t coming back.

  Rose found herself unable to quell the heart-wrenching sobs that overtook her as she realized none of her silly daydreams were going to come true. Marston was not her friend.

  Strange that losing him hurt so badly when Rose had never truly had him. Marston had never been hers and yet Rose had hoped so desperately that he would choose to stay. She had thought that with enough kindness and acceptance she could earn his trust and perhaps someday it could even grow to love….

  But she’d been wrong.

  Rose picked herself up from the floor and forced her tears to end. She dried her face on her sleeves and poured the last of her water into the sink. She didn’t have time to give Marston any more of her tears. He obviously didn’t care about her or about Langley and he had made his choice.

  While Rose would miss him and the thought of what could have been and the life she could have had with the man by her side, Rose would not fret over it any longer. She only had two more hours until sunrise and plenty of work to do come morning.

  ***

  Marston rode hard until he was several miles from the cabin and then he pulled up on the reins to give the gray a break. He jumped from the saddle, cursing the pain in his leg. He paced and limped heavily as he stared up at the night sky.

  Why did he care that Rose had been fighting back tears over him? Why would anyone waste tears on a man like him? Did that damn woman realize that he’d been doing her a favor by riding away?

  “God help me,” Marston pleaded as he looked up at the stars. “What am I supposed to do?”

  But the sky remained quiet and no answer shone back at him. Even that opinionated voice in his head appeared to have run out of things to say. The only sound in the darkness was the hoot of an owl. “So no signs from God and no smart ass remarks from my conscience?” Marston grumbled, kicking the ground.

  The owl hooted again and Marston swore it sounded as if the creature were laughing. “Shut up, owl,” he warned and in response the bird hooted more loudly. Marston let out a roar of rage, pulled his revolver and with a single shot he shut the critter up for good.

  ‘Feel better?’ />
  The voice was back. Marston was almost happy to hear it because it took his mind off the pain in his heart. What the hell was wrong with him? He needed to find a saloon and get good and drunk. Maybe he could find somebody to shoot or something to steal…. Anything to feel like his old self. He needed anything to help him forget that dilapidated cabin, that over-talkative boy, and that soft, beautiful woman.

  Jeremiah! The name flashed through his mind and Marston remembered the quest he’d been on to pay his brother back just before he’d been sidetracked by a dying Langston.

  Marston hardened his heart and climbed back into the saddle. He would forget about Rose and Langley and any foolish notion he might have had in the last few days that he could be anything other than what he was. He would forget about having his ear talked off all day and quiet family dinners. He would forget about late night talks on the porch, soft pale skin, and blue eyes.

  Marston grabbed up the reins and headed west, his back firmly facing the approaching sunrise.

  ***

  Marston topped over a small rise nearly two weeks later and shook his head at the ramshackle lean-to his brother was currently hiding out in. Jeremiah never had made a lick of sense to Marston. The man never stayed in once place longer than a month or two, but he always made sure he built some kind of home to rest his head in at night.

  Marston had always assumed it came from never having a real home as a child. Marston didn’t have the same urge for a shelter and home as Jeremiah had developed—an image of a worn out cabin with crooked shutters and worn work dresses on a line entered Marston’s mind and he grumbled as he shoved it away.

  Marston’s eyes were immediately drawn to his stolen buckskin which was currently hitched up to a rail that didn’t appear as if it would stand up to a warm breeze or a sparrow’s weight. Jeremiah was an imbecile.

  A low whistle had Buck instantly whipping his head around, tossing his mane and whinnying. Marston hopped off the gray and clicked his tongue, chuckling when Buck gave a tug and pulled the rail from the ground dragging it with him as he came up the hill toward Marston.

  Stealing his horse back was truly easier than he had expected and he was a bit let down… as if in answer to his thoughts, Jeremiah came leaping out the leather flap that served as his door. His faded red long johns hung off his skinny frame as he raised up his rifle and fired a shot.

  A fiery pain seared across Marston’s arm as he fought to keep the gray under control and cursed his brother to hell. “You damn son of a bitch!” Marston bellowed. “You shot me!”

  Jeremiah shouldered his rifle again and Marston quickly pulled his revolver and shot the gun clear out of his brother’s hands. He didn’t lower his revolver, however, and kept it aimed at Jeremiah’s head.

  “You overreacting bastard!” Jeremiah exclaimed, shaking his bleeding hand. “I only grazed your arm, don’t kill me!”

  “I’m about to overreact real bad when I blow your damned brains out!” Marston snapped back as he headed down the hill toward brother dearest. He was faintly aware of Buck trailing behind him still dragging that post.

  “Quit your damn threats, Marston,” Jeremiah grumbled. “If you’re gonna kill me then get it over with. You’ve been threatening my life for as long as I can remember.”

  “The only reason I haven’t killed you already is because we have the same mama,” Marston assured him. “You left me to die in the middle of a prairie during a drought without a horse!”

  Jeremiah shrugged. “You owed me money.”

  “You damned weasel. You were willing to kill your brother over a little bit of money?”

  “I wouldn’t call fifty dollars a little bit of money!” Jeremiah exclaimed.

  Marston holstered his gun and crossed his arms over his chest. “So you stole Buck? That flea bitten beast isn’t worth twenty.”

  Jeremiah grinned. “Just so you know, I had a man offer me seventy-five dollars for that horse but I turned him down because I had a feeling my baby brother might be showing up.”

  Marston grumbled under his breath as he reached into his saddlebags and pulled out fifty dollars—money he’d stolen from the family with the wagon what seemed like a lifetime ago.

  He laid the money in his brother’s outstretched palm. “What about the interest?” Jeremiah asked with a chuckle.

  Marston had his knife pulled and the blade tight against Jeremiah’s racing pulse before the man could blink. “What interest?”

  Jeremiah flashed him a grin that Marston knew for a fact the man practiced in a mirror quite often. It was a grin meant to appease his attacker and charm them. “No interest.”

  Marston sheathed his knife and nodded. “That’s what I thought,” he grumbled. He grabbed the gray’s reins and placed them in Jeremiah’s bleeding hand. “Here’s you a horse. I ain’t got no need for two of them.”

  “Why thanks, Marston!” Jeremiah teased with a wink. “That’s plain charitable of you.”

  Marston rolled his eyes and went about untangling Buck from the post while Jeremiah looked the gray over. “You got anything to eat, Jeremiah?”

  “Sure do,” Jeremiah replied, patting his grumpy brother on the back. “Fried opossum and beans. Good damn stuff,” he added, rubbing his beer swollen belly and licking his lips.

  Marston shook his head. “The anticipation overwhelms me.”

  Chapter Ten

  “What the hell is wrong with you?!” Jeremiah exclaimed three days later after Marston tipped over a cup of water and proceeded to throw the cup a hundred yards into the distance.

  Marston just grumbled and stalked back inside the lean-to. He went rifling through his saddlebags, hunting for the flask of whiskey he knew was stashed inside, when his hand closed around a bundle of money.

  Marston frowned. He hadn’t realized he had so much left. He pulled the money out and counted it slowly.

  Three hundred dollars.

  Every single wall Marston had built around his heart in the last few weeks to block out the memory of Rose and Langley came crashing down in an instant.

  This was their money. It was the money he had stolen from them and Marston had forgotten all about it. They needed this money. They needed it a whole hell of a lot more than he did.

  Marston shook his head. No, they didn’t.

  ‘Yes, they do.’

  “Shut the hell up,” he grumbled. He didn’t make a habit of being sorry for things and he sure as hell wasn’t gonna start now. Marston forced those walls to rise one more as he shoved the money back into his saddlebags.

  He tossed the saddlebags over his shoulder and strode from the shack. “Where are you going?” Jeremiah asked with a frown.

  He was worried about his brother. Marston had always been prickly like a cactus but here lately the man seemed to be one giant prick. Jeremiah had no idea what had happened to the man, but he was getting tired of dealing with his over the top grouchiness.

  “We’ve been sitting around this shack for days like a couple of women,” Marston grumbled as he began saddling Buck. “It’s time we loaded up and did something.”

  “We could ride into the town a couple of hours away and play some cards,” Jeremiah offered, tossing his saddle over the gray.

  Marston squinted into the sunset and nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

  ***

  “They’ve got some fairly good whiskey in that saloon over there,” Jeremiah noted, tipping his head toward the two-story building as they rode down the rutted street.

  Marston nodded and led Buck toward the saloon. It was the nicest building in this town which was merely a stopover for outlaws, cattle drivers and any other traveler headed west.

  “Nice place,” Marston said as he glanced up at the second story and saw the scantily clad woman leaning over the balcony.

  “Well aren’t you a big piece of man,” she called down to him. Her voice had a husky quality and she waved coyly. “Care to come on upstairs in a while and offer me some company?”

&
nbsp; Marston merely shrugged and headed inside. “You gonna take her up on the offer?” Jeremiah questioned, elbowing him in the stomach.

  “Depends...” Marston shrugged. “I might just decide to get good and drunk. If that happens I’ll have to say no. I wouldn’t wanna get up there and embarrass myself.”

  “Surely you wouldn’t have that problem!” Jeremiah exclaimed as the two brothers settled down in some empty barstools.

  “I’m not as young as I used to be,” Marston grinned, tapping the bar.

  “You’re younger than me,” Jeremiah noted, catching the beer the barkeep slid his way. “You can’t be much more than thirty.”

  Marston caught the next beer and stared down into it. “Well, I feel damned old.”

  “You look old too. Do you realize just how bad you’re looking these days?” Jeremiah asked, downing a big swig.

  Marston glared at him. “Mama should have drowned you as an infant.”

  Jeremiah laughed. “Hell for all we know she probably tried!”

  Marston chuckled. “Let’s go play some cards.”

  The brothers made their way to a back poker table and tipped their heads to the four men already playing. “Mind if we play a few hands?” Jeremiah asked, swaying a bit on his feet as if he’d had twenty beers instead of half of one.

  Marston placed his own smooth grin on his face. “Yeah, we ain’t never had much luck at the game but it sure does pass the time.”

  The four men at that table shared predatory glances before nodded. “Well come on then, gentlemen. Sit down and play with us.”

  ***

  “Was it good?” Jeremiah asked as the two men met back out on the boardwalk of the saloon. Their pockets were full of their poker winnings and Marston had just gotten done paying a visit to that real friendly lady from earlier in the night.

  He smirked as he lit a rolled cigarette. “A gentleman never kisses and tells.”

  “But we ain’t gentlemen,” Jeremiah winked.

  Marston took a long draw. “She was decent,” he admitted.

  ‘I think there’s a certain woman back in Louisiana that wouldn’t be a bit happy with you right now,’ that damn voice spoke up.