Give My Love to Rose

by Nicole Sturgill

  Duke took a long draw off the cigarette in his hand and blew out the smoke slowly. “I’m not sure why I’m still here,” he admitted. He kicked at a piece of hay on the ground. “I guess somewhere inside this ruthless, old outlaw there’s still a little boy that wants a place to call home.”

  “Damn Duke..” Jeremiah batted his lashes and feigned a sniffle. “That was beautiful.”

  Marston shoved his brother, who stumbled sideways and nearly fell in the newly filled water trough. “Duke, there was a day I would have told you that you were brain addled for even thinking something like that but now… Hell, I never thought I wanted any of this but now I couldn’t see my life without it. It’s nice to have a home and it’s even nicer to have folks who care to come home to.”

  “Well, that’s just about the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Jeremiah mused. “Why it sounded almost soft.”

  Marston growled as his hand inched toward his revolver and Duke quickly stepped in. “Hell, Jeremiah, even soft Marston could still wipe the floor with just about any other man alive. That’s what happens when you’re seven foot tall and about as dainty as a hundred-year-old oak.”

  Marston snatched up his rake and went back to work. “Are the two of you leaving soon?”

  “Yeah, tonight,” Duke replied, tossing his cigarette out of the barn.

  Marston finished up spreading a bit of sawdust in the stall and leaned his rake against the wall as he nodded. “Good,” he grumbled, glaring at his brother.

  Marston stepped out of the barn and headed straight for Rose where she stood at a rickety table scrubbing clothes on a washboard. A bright smile lit up her face when she saw him, but Marston frowned. “If you’re not going to let me do it for you then you at least need to be inside with all this,” he grumbled. “You spend the day in this cold air with your hands in water and you’ll turn bad sick again.”

  Rose’s eye swept upward dramatically. “Yes sir,” she quipped.

  Marston hefted up the wash basin full of soapy water and strode to the door. “Care to open the door, love?” he called over his shoulder at Rose. “My back ain’t as young as it used to be.”

  Marston sat the tub of water in front of the fire and pulled Rose against his chest. “Now get that list of supplies written up and I’ll head to town and pick them up after I finish carrying the clothes in.”

  Rose bit her lip and looked up at him. “I feel guilty ordering such things,” she admitted. “We don’t need them… I just said I wanted them one day.”

  Marston smoothed her hair from her face and kissed her cold nose. “And from now on you’ll have what you want as well as what you need. Now write that list and I’ll bring the other things in.”

  ***

  “I’m surprised that boy didn’t want to come with you,” Duke admitted as he and Jeremiah rode their horses beside the cart Marston was driving.

  Marston snorted. “He had his nose buried in that book Jeremiah stole for him.”

  “It doesn’t matter if it was stolen,” Jeremiah grumbled. “It’s the thought that counts.”

  “I’m gonna raise that boy different from how we were raised,” Marston argued. “I’m gonna teach him to work hard for what he wants, that stealing is never right and that killing is wrong…” Marston grinned. “Most of the time.”

  Duke didn’t say a word in response, but Jeremiah spent most of the remainder of the trip to town grumbling about how Marston was ruining the boy.

  Marston pulled the cart to a stop at the H&H mercantile and hopped to the ground. He frowned when Duke and Jeremiah dismounted as well. “We’re coming in with you.”

  “Why?” Marston demanded, feeling more than a little tired of having two new shadows.

  “Because it’ll piss you off,” Jeremiah grinned.

  “And because we want to meet the fine women that we borrowed those lovely presents from,” Duke added.

  Marston simply shook his head and entered the store with the duo on his heels. “Oh look, Hattie,” Hester sneered from behind the counter. “It’s our favorite and most loyal customer..and he brought a couple of his smelly friends with him as well.”

  “Hello there, Hester,” Marston greeted with a tip of his head. “I see you’re just as charming as always.”

  Hattie waddled in from the backroom and nearly collapsed when she took in the sight of Duke grabbing some jerked beef from a barrel while Jeremiah absently flipped through the pages of the catalog in his hands.

  “You’ve done it now!” Hattie hissed at her sister. “You were rude and now he’s brought his gang back to kill us.”

  Marston grinned over at Duke who was frowning. “You told her it was your gang?”

  Marston shrugged. “I never mentioned a gang. I suppose I just have a certain leadership quality that you lack.”

  “Damn oak tree,” Duke grumbled before tearing off a piece of the dried meat with his teeth.

  “So what can I do for you, gentlemen?” Hester inquired, pulling off her spectacles and wiping them on her apron before settling them back over her cow eyes.

  “There’s that friendly service that folks come for miles just to experience,” Marston chuckled. He pulled out the list Rose had written. “I need you to get these things ready for me.”

  Hester peered down her hooked nose at the list he placed in her hand. “Well, I must say this isn’t Rose’s usual shopping list. I never have known the woman to be quite so frivolous.”

  Marston wondered what the hell was so frivolous about getting a bit of extra fabric and a few treats for the kitchen. He tapped the counter with his fingertips. “Well, I must say that it’s none of your concern. Your only job is to gather up the things the woman wrote down.” He moved away from the counter and paused. “Just lay them on the boardwalk when you’re done. I’ll save myself the loading fee and do it myself.”

  Marston was heading for the door when Hester cleared her throat. “You know a rather odd thing happened.”

  Marston turned back to her, plastering that false smile on his face. “The anticipation is killing me.”

  She licked her thin lips and laid the list on the countertop. “My sister and I came in the day after Christmas to find that we’d had more merchandise stolen.”

  “That is terrible” Marston agreed.

  “That’s the danger in owning a business in this day and time,” Duke mused tossing a coin on the counter to pay for the jerked beef he was gnawing on.

  “You should invest in a guard dog,” Jeremiah added as he tossed the catalog down.

  Hester’s eyes narrowed and she pointed a long, bony finger up at Marston’s face. “I have my eyes on you, Marston.”

  Marston leaned stepped back to the counter and stooped down, leaving very little distance between them. He could see the fear the instant it came to her eyes and victory coursed through his blood. “And I have mine on you, Hester,” he warned quietly.

  As Marston stood straight once again, Hester became flustered, scooped up the list and dashed away to begin filling it. Marston growled under his breath and strode from the store with Duke and Jeremiah following closely.

  “That’s a friendly woman,” Jeremiah chuckled.

  “About as cuddly as a damned cactus,” Duke agreed.

  Marston pulled his duster coat tighter and stepped across the road to the blacksmith shop. “Good to see you again, Marston!” Tray boomed when he noticed the trio step inside. He pulled off his thick gloves and shook each man’s hand in turn. “You look like you’ve something on your mind, Marston,” Tray stated as Marston lounged against the tool bench. “What can I do for you?”

  Marston scratched at his jaw. “I’d be interested in a job.”

  “A job!?” Jeremiah and Duke exclaimed in unison.

  Marston shot them a hard look that had them stepping back but didn’t stop their horrified murmurs and mutters that let him know they clearly feared he’d lost his mind.

  “Now I don’t want to sound quite like your disbel
ieving friends there, but, a job? You want to be a blacksmith?” Tray asked.

  Marston pushed himself away from the tool bench. “Not exactly,” he replied. “I was actually thinking about opening a gunsmith shop and I was hoping I could rent a bit of your extra space here.”

  Tray rubbed at his hair as he glanced around thoughtfully. “I suppose I could rent some space to you. I think you’d do alright with a gun shop. Most folks around here have to send their guns off to have them worked on and folks passing through are always asking me to tend to their weapons. You definitely seem like a man who knows his way around a firearm.”

  Marston grinned as he rolled his shoulders and felt the familiar weight of his rifle on his back. “Thanks Tray.” Marston reached his hand out and shook Tray’s firmly. “I appreciate it. We’ll work out the details later. I’ll have to get some supplies ordered.”

  “Just come on in whenever you’re ready,” Tray agreed.

  “Have you lost your mind?” Duke demanded once they were back on the street.

  “What the hell have you done with my brother?” Jeremiah chimed in.

  Marston growled. “Is it that surprising that I want to work for my money?”

  Both of them nodded firmly. “Yes, it is!” Jeremiah exclaimed.

  Duke shook his head. “I can understand that woman and kid getting under your skin and putting settling down in your mind but a job?!” Duke hissed the last word as if it were poison.

  “I want to teach Langley to work hard for what he wants and not take the easy way out and steal his way through life.” Marston shrugged. “I figure the best way to do that is to get a job.”

  “Stealing ain’t easy!” Jeremiah blustered. “You get shot at! Every now and then you take a punch. It can be damn hard work.”

  Instead of gracing his annoying jackass of an older brother with a reply, Marston made his way back to the H&H Mercantile to find Hester standing over his pile of goods with a haughty sneer on her narrow face.

  Without a word, Marston began loading his supplies into the cart. Duke and Jeremiah merely lounged against the banisters and watched. Apparently they were there as strictly moral support.

  “Thank you, Hester,” Marston flashed her the politest smile his arsenal contained. “As always it was a pleasure doing business with your fine establishment.”

  He hopped up onto the cart and grabbed the reins, eager to be away from town and back at the cabin. Hester’s bony hand clutching tightly at his thick forearm had him frowning and glaring down at her. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed.

  She didn’t back down and Marston was forced to admit, albeit silently, that she had nerve. “I want you to know that I sent the Marshal in Millerton a wire. I let him know a man named Marston was living in our town and that he was the bad sort.”

  Marston chuckled and folded his arms on his lap, gripping the reins loosely with his fingertips. “And?”

  Hester’s lips pursed. “He claims he has no knowledge of who you are and has never before heard of you.”

  Marston shook his head sadly. “That must be a great disappointment to you, Hester.”

  Hester moved closer, her nails digging into his arm. “I’ll be watching you, Marston. I know a no-good thief when I see one.”

  Marston winked, unwilling to admit that the little heifer was hurting his arm with those claws of hers. “And with those eyes of yours I’m sure you won’t miss a thing.”

  She scoffed as she released her hold on him and took a step back. Marston flicked the reins and started Buck down the road, purposely shifting the cart sideways so Hester would have to dodge to avoid being hit by the wheel.

  “What a bitch,” Duke grumbled as they headed out of town.

  “I’ve always thought so,” Marston agreed.

  “She tried to rat you out to the law, Marston!” Jeremiah exclaimed.

  “I know that, Jeremiah. I was there when she told me, remember?”

  “You want me to kill her?” Jeremiah offered, a cold smile curving his lips. “I’d do it with a smile.”

  Marston frowned. “I thought you didn’t kill women.”

  Amusement lit Jeremiah's eyes. “That ain’t a woman. That’s a harpy.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The days passed quickly, flying into weeks which, in turn, became months. Marston had never been more satisfied with his life than he was now. He had a son and he had a woman who was a wife to him in every way that mattered. He’d offered to make the marriage legal but no one in the backwater town was ordained to do so and Marston was too keen on having some nosy two-bit government type give him a sheet of paper with a signature on it.

  Hell, all that mattered was what was in Marston’s heart and Rose’s heart and as far as either of them was concerned, they were husband and wife.

  Marston listened to the early morning sounds of spring outside the bedroom window as Rose breathed gently against his chest and he held her close. He closed his eyes, deciding that he didn’t need to rush off to work today, and he was nearly asleep once again when the peace of the morning was shattered by Rose tensing and letting out a scream before attempting to leap from his arms.

  Marston sighed and did his best to comfort and soothe her as she jerked, kicked and punched for all she was worth, struggling against his hold. Marston hated this. It made him feel helpless and powerless and neither were feelings he enjoyed. Nothing in the world was worse on a man than seeing the woman he loved suffering being able to do nothing to stop her pain.

  “Rose, love, who’s hurting you?” he asked gently, grunting when her elbow sank between his ribs. He didn’t honestly think she’d answer even in her dream state, but she shocked him when she opened her mouth.

  “Gilliam.”

  Marston finally had a name.

  His shock at her admission had his hold on her loosening and that proved to be a mistake as she was still asleep and that nightmare was still plaguing her. Her fist shot up and the heel of her hand caught Marston in the nose.

  “Dammit!” he bellowed, leaping away from her and clutching at his face.

  Rose’s eyes flew open and horror filled their blue depths. “Did I hit you?”

  Marston paused in his ranting string of curses and mustered a grin behind his hand. “No, I hit myself.”

  Tears filled Rose’s eyes and Marston felt blood trickling between his fingers. Damn the woman had a mean right hook.

  “Oh god… you’re bleeding!” she gasped, sobs building in her chest.

  Marston sighed. “I’m fine, Rose. I’ve had worse. Can you get me a towel?”

  Rose quickly left the bedroom, her nightdress swishing around her ankles as she dashed from the room. She returned moments later with a small towel and Marston pressed the cotton tight against his bleeding nose. “Did I break it?” Rose whispered, wringing her hands.

  Marston chuckled, the sound muffled with the towel on his face. “No, you didn’t break it,” he assured her. “You just hurt its feelings real bad.”

  Rose frowned and smoothed his thick brown hair from his brow. “I’m sorry.”

  Marston waved his hand dismissively. “No need for apologies. I’ve taken harder licks than that and I’m still here.”

  Guilt was still etched deep in Rose’s features and when Marston pulled the towel away and she saw the bright red blood staining it, her face paled considerably. “I’ve never hit anyone….”

  Marston laughed lightly as he felt his nose. It was done bleeding and it was tender as hell, but he’d be just fine. “You should make a habit of doing it more,” he teased. “You have a good arm.”

  The indignant expression on Rose’s face caused Marston to burst into laughter and when she grabbed a pillow and hit him upside the head with it, his laughter intensified

  “You’re not funny!” she snapped, though he could see her lips twitching.

  “I’m hilarious,” Marston countered, gaining control of his amusement.

  Rose glared and walked to her wardrobe. Kee
ping her back to him, she slid from her nightdress and let the fabric fall to the floor.

  A surge of heat shot through Marston. Desire slammed into him like a runaway train. Rose was all soft pale skin and Marston’s fingers itched to stroke her, touch her, tease her until she was whimpering and purring beneath him…

  Damn, what he felt for that woman was strong. The months had done nothing to ease the want he had for her, instead the attraction had grown and morphed into something that Marston knew would last a lifetime.

  “You better get that off your mind,” Rose warned, wagging a finger at him. “I can hear Langley moving around out there so there’s no time.”

  Marston merely sat there and watched her as she slid into her underclothes and took a blue gingham dress she had finished making just yesterday from the wardrobe. She realized his eyes were still on her and he saw the flush work its way down her neck.

  Marston stood from the bed slowly and Rose’s sharp intake of breath filled the room. He always slept without clothes and clearly Rose was appreciating that fact right about now. He pretended he didn’t notice her gaze on him as he slid into his clothes and strapped his knife to his leg.

  After pulling on his boots and slipping his hat on his head, Marston let his eyes go to her and he realized that her hands were still on her hair but her movements had stilled and she was no longer braiding the red strands. He walked to her as her blue eyes darkened and gazed at him longingly.

  Marston gave her a quick, chaste kiss and chuckled. “You better get that off your mind,” he warned. “Langley’s awake.”

  Rose was sputtering and Marston was nearly certain he even heard a curse or two pass through her lips as he quickly fled the bedroom with laughter rumbling from his chest.

  “Good morning, Langley,” he greeted the boy who was sitting at the table playing with the jacks that Duke had given him at Christmas. Langley’s uncles had been to visit two times since then much to Marston’s surprise.

  “Good morning, pa,” Langley replied brightly. Marston ruffled his red hair and then went to the cabinet and got out the skillet. “What are you doing?” Langley inquired, his eyes narrowing.