The Rescue

by Tanya Eavenson

  “When Sarah passed, I sent word to them in Texas. It seems they didn’t receive my letter until recently. A telegram came for me several days ago. The Eastons should arrive within the week.”

  “They cannot come.” She rose, her voice wavering. “You must send word before it’s too late.”

  He looked away. “It is too late. They are on their way as we speak. It’s only proper that I invite them to stay with us.”

  She knelt at his feet and grasped his hands. “No. Please, Father. I beg you. Send them away. They can’t stay here. I couldn’t bear it if—”

  “I have no choice. I need to at least make the offer. While the Eastons are here, nothing can seem amiss. If they ever found out what I’ve done—the gambling or about Glover—we’d both be in danger.”

  She stood and began to pace, desperate not to allow fear to overtake her. How could this be happening? She’d given up hope of ever seeing Trenton again. But now, how could she do so with Glover near? Freezing, she turned her gaze to her father. “Have you told Glover?”

  “I’ve been waiting for the right moment, but he’s been so angry about you visiting my mother, there hasn’t been a right time. This is why I need your help. We need to keep Glover happy and the Eastons in the dark. Do you think you can manage it while they’re in town?”

  “You mean as you’ve asked me to do with my own sister?”

  Her father moved to the door and stopped. “What choice do we have?” He spoke over his shoulder. “Are you willing to put Sydney’s or her twin infants’ lives in danger along with ours?”

  “I wish you had thought of the consequences before you gambled our lives away.”

  “What’s done is done, Rosalind. All we can do now is survive.”

  Survive. She gritted her teeth. “I have done nothing else since I learned of Mother’s consumption. I spent days, weeks, months nursing her, watching her die before my eyes, never able to tell her about my betrothal to Glover. When she was alive, I dreamt of marrying for love, then she died, and my dreams died with her. Your actions give me no choice but to marry Glover. So, yes, Father, I know how to stay alive—I appease the man who holds our lives in his hands.”

  He didn’t answer but paused before closing the door behind him as he left.

  The squeal of the train’s brakes jerked Trent upright in bed, heart pounding. Sweat moistened his brow. He glanced around his small sleeping compartment and drew a shuddering breath. His dream, what did it mean?

  Sheep grazing in an open pasture. A woman, her face blurred, sat within the sheepfold. And wolves ... three—no, four—but one’s eyes were aflame. With teeth as long as spears, the wolf with the blazing eyes caught and devoured a lamb, then the entire image dissolved in fire.

  Not knowing the hour, he drew back the window curtain and stared outside. The sun highlighted the dormant fields with a golden hue. He focused closer to the tracks, then the scene blurred as the train passed through a stand of trees. Within the blur, he thought he saw the woman from his dream.

  He shook his head of the image, released the curtain, and ran his fingers through his damp hair. One of the hardest feats he’d managed was leaving his Stetson behind. He slid from the bed, glanced down at his worn leather boots, and smiled as he pulled them on. The train jerked again and then slowly rolled to a stop. He grabbed the handle of his bag.

  Boston.

  Five minutes later, he followed his parents onto the station platform. Black smoke billowed from the smokestack and formed a gray cloud, obscuring his path. His steps grew heavy. He had tried to bury his feelings for the girl who rejected him, and now, behind this cloud was a hope he never wanted to die.

  The whistle blew once more, startling his heart to gallop as a skittish colt. A gentle breeze blew the smoke aside, and he caught himself scanning the passersby, looking for Rosalind. Father said he’d wired the Standfords regarding their visit. Would she even care to see him? The weight of the past two years struck him between the eyes. Had she already given her heart to someone else?

  With a calming breath, he roped in his weary nerves and glanced around. A wagon filled with cargo passed across the street. He turned to ask his father about his wire to the Standfords when a black carriage stopped directly in front of them. A man wearing a bowler hat stepped out.

  Rosalind’s father. Mr. Standford approached, seemingly thinner and shorter than Trent remembered. Lines creased the corners of his eyes. “It’s been a long time.” Mr. Standford smiled at them, shaking their hands and hugging his mother. “Let’s get your trunks.” He hurried down the platform.

  While Trent stood aside, Father helped Mother climb into the carriage.

  Mr. Standford handed their trunks to the driver, who heaved them onto the top. Luckily, they hadn’t brought much. Their Texas-style garments were so different from those of Bostonians. If they hoped to fit in to society here, they’d need new clothing. Trent climbed into the carriage behind Mr. Standford, who took a seat closest to the door.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Roger.” His father spoke as Trent wedged into the small space between his parents and the door. “How have you been?”

  “It’s been hard.” Mr. Standford closed the door curtains, plunging the carriage interior into darkness. The carriage jerked, then took to the road.

  Trent’s eyes took a moment to adjust, frustrating him as he strained to see the woman sitting beside Mr. Standford. Her face was hidden by a fashionable hat as she bent to whisper to the two tiny children bundled against her chest.

  Mother leaned forward and covered the woman’s hand. She turned, revealing her face.

  His heart stopped and his gut clenched. Rosalind. With children.

  Her brown hair cascaded over her shoulders. He stared—he couldn’t help himself—and her gray eyes peered back at him through long lashes. Their gazes locked for a moment before she looked away. She was breathtaking ... and obviously married. He forced a smile as he studied the infants in her arms. Motherhood suited her well, and somewhere deep within, he mourned that the children weren’t his.

  “We didn’t come to inconvenience you, Roger.” His father’s voice brought him back to the present. “We’ll be happy to stay at our old home, but we had to come after receiving your letter. I’m sorry we didn’t receive it sooner.”

  “Nonsense. You will stay with us until your house is in order. I insist.”

  His father glanced at his mother. “We’ll be your guests under one condition. We will purchase our provisions while we’re here.”

  Mr. Standford raised an eyebrow. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, but there’s no need to worry about—”

  “We won’t be a burden. No arguments, Roger.”

  “All right. You win.” Mr. Standford smiled. “I hope you don’t mind, but we’re dropping Rosalind off before heading to the house.”

  His mother inched to the edge of the seat and touched the finger of one of the infants. “How old are they, dear? Twins?”

  “They are.” Rosalind’s face brightened, and pride showed on her lovely face. “This is William in the blue gown, and Anna is in the yellow. They’ll be two months old next week. We were afraid William wouldn’t make it, but he’s grown wonderfully.”

  “Yes, he has. They’re both beautiful.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” his father said, and the two men began discussing recent banking trends and ranching.

  As the carriage clattered along, Trent struggled not to gawk at Rosalind but failed miserably. He wanted to stare, not only stare but touch. It was wrong of him to think such things, but she was no longer in his dreams. Now she was before him in the flesh.

  When the carriage finally slowed to a stop, he snuck one last look. She handed her father one of the babies. Mr. Standford climbed from the carriage and assisted his daughter out. Trent wanted to follow but held himself in place.

  Up the steps to the house, Mr. Standford opened the door for Rosalind. They spoke a few words. Rosalind’s brows
dipped slightly before she nodded, took her other child from his arms, and entered the house.

  Mr. Standford returned quickly. “Shall we?” He closed the door as the carriage once again jerked forward.

  Trent’s mother exhaled, folding her hands in her lap. “She has turned into a lovely young woman, Roger. You must be so proud. And those grandchildren ...”

  “Oh yes, they are the center of this old man’s heart. And my daughters ... one can only hope and pray that God has them both in the palm of His hands.”

  “Hey, now.” Trent’s father sat up straight and tall. “If you’re old, what am I? I have you by two years.”

  “I rest my case.”

  Laughter billowed from everyone except Trent. Rosalind was married. Why hadn’t she told him, instead of not responding to his marriage proposal? He’d waited, but after months of no correspondence, he’d given up hope they might have a future.

  Now he knew why.

  Rosalind laid the babies side by side in the crib, then spread a small yellow quilt over them. She kissed their soft cheeks and quietly left their room. How wonderful it would be to one day have children of her own.

  She forced the thought away and plopped onto her sister’s couch, blowing hair from her eyes and tucking a rebel strand behind her ear. Trenton had never looked more handsome. He needed a haircut, but the way his blond hair turned slightly, touching his tan skin, made her heart jump. Although he hadn’t recognized her right away, he’d stolen her breath. Even now, her heart hammered just thinking of him being so near.

  She rose. She’d find a way to hide her feelings from Trenton. She couldn’t let anyone else know of them. But would it be so wrong to pretend that he still cared for her?

  Careful not to wake the sleeping infants, she wandered to her sister’s closet. She pulled out a brown silk dress she favored over all the others and ran a fingertip across the gold metal adorning the waist. When Father had dropped Rosalind off, he told her to find something of her sister’s to wear for the evening. Would Sydney mind? And what if she asked why Rosalind needed to borrow a gown? She couldn’t very well tell Sydney about Father’s financial condition.

  The front door slammed closed, and Rosalind jumped at the sound. She stuffed the dress back into the closet and rushed into the hall to meet her sister.

  “How are they?” Sydney peered around the tower of boxes in her arms. Wisps of brown hair escaped her hat.

  “They’re asleep. Did you have fun shopping? What did you buy?”

  “Come. I have a surprise for you.”

  Rosalind followed her back into the bedroom, glancing around to make sure she’d left nothing amiss.

  “I bought you a few things. I wanted to thank you for all your help with the children since our move. With Joshua stationed at the naval base, I couldn’t have survived without you.” Sydney let the boxes tumble from her arms onto the bed. She picked out three and stacked them in front of Rosalind.

  “Oh, sis.” Her eyes widened. “I don’t know what to say. You really didn’t have to—”

  “I wanted to. Now open your presents.” Sydney sat on the bed, tugged off her gloves, then unpinned her hat.

  Thrilled, Rosalind lifted the lid of the first box and pulled out a gown of the palest blue. Tassels and flowers gathered on the sides. She held the dress against her frame. It appeared to be a perfect fit.

  She met her sister’s gaze. “This is the most elegant gown ...” Tears filled her eyes. She hadn’t worn something new since, well, she couldn’t remember when. Most of her dresses had been patched and re-patched. They were wearing thin. Even her shoes ...

  She grabbed another box and removed the lid. Shoes! One by one, tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Her sister smiled up at her from the bed. “Don’t thank me yet. You still have another box to open.”

  Rosalind threw aside the last round lid. Lovely undergarments filled the box.

  “I haven’t seen you wear anything new recently and figured you might need undergarments as well. They are a bit harder to request from a father than a mother, and my guess is you haven’t had new ones since Mom passed.”

  Rosalind hugged her sister and held on. “Thank you.”

  “You’re so welcome. Now, I bought three new dresses for myself, and I need to make room in the closest. Are there three dresses of mine you’d like to have?”

  She released her. “I couldn’t. You’ve done too much.”

  “Nonsense. I haven’t done near enough, and now with a certain gentleman staying at the house, you might want to catch his eye. And honestly, I’m not sure it would be too difficult, considering ...”

  Rosalind tilted her head. “Considering what?”

  “He’s come back.”

  Rosalind fingered the hem on her new gown. “He didn’t come back for me, Sydney. He came back because of his family.”

  “But don’t you see? He’s old enough to make his own decisions. He could have stayed behind, but he didn’t. And I think I know why.” She wiggled her brows.

  Rosalind turned away, fighting the emotions swirling in her heart. Oh, how she wanted it to be true. To know Trenton still loved her, desired their union. But it wasn’t to be, no matter how much she wished it. “Sorry, sis, but I have to disagree. I’m not the reason he came back.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just do.” She walked over to the window.

  Sydney’s arm wrapped around her waist. “I know you’re betrothed to Glover, but he’s too possessive of you. Joshua agrees with me on this. He’s wrong for you, Rosalind. Why father gave his ...” She bit her lip. “It doesn’t matter any longer. I have a feeling God brought Trenton here.”

  Rosalind shook her head against thoughts of Glover. And God? He’d not healed their mother, not kept her father from making awful choices for himself and her.

  “You’ll see I’m right,” Sydney said and gave her a small squeeze. “Three dresses. You’ll need to hurry before dinner. How I wish I could attend, but Joshua’s coming home for the evening. I have an idea!” She clapped her hands together. “Dress here. I’ll have my carriage take you home. That way I can do your hair. What do you say?”

  Rosalind forced a smile. “How can I say no?”

  And more important, how was she going to hide her feelings for Trenton during dinner?

  Rosalind pressed a hand to her heart and stared at her reflection. Sydney had indeed styled Rosalind’s hair, sweeping it up high on her head, bangs feathered across her forehead. The pastel blue dress accented her small waist, and the bodice ... She felt like a woman, and so wished her mother was here to see.

  “Oh, Sydney, I look—”

  “Like a princess.” She turned Rosalind to face her. “You have a wonderful time tonight, but you need to hurry or you’ll be late.” She pushed her through the door to the waiting carriage. “And don’t forget to tell Trenton hello for me.” Sydney smiled and waved before reentering the house.

  Rosalind’s heart pounded during the short ride. What would Trenton see tonight when he looked at her? The little girl he’d left behind, or the woman she’d become? She had never stopped hoping this day would come—a day he’d return home—but she couldn’t let him know of her feelings. She couldn’t let anyone know.

  She touched the sides of her face and felt the heat against her palms. There was no need to pinch her cheeks to feign a blush.

  The wheels slowed to a stop, and the carriage door opened. A hand reached in to help her out, but she recognized it as Glover’s. Fighting the urge to recoil, she extended her hand.

  The corners of his mouth lifted into a smug grin, and he maintained his hold as they entered the house. “You look ravishing tonight, my dear.”

  “There you are.” Her father regarded her, then Glover. “Please, come in.”

  “I must say,”—Glover raised Rosalind’s gloved hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles before releasing her—“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

  She dre
w a deep breath and discreetly wiped her glove against her dress. Her stomach clenched, and nausea bubbled up her throat. In moments she’d be in the same room with two men—one who’d won her heart and didn’t know it, the other who was trying to steal her very soul.

  With a few steps more, they entered the dining area.

  Father cleared his throat, and everyone seated along the oblong table eyed them. “You know my youngest daughter, Rosalind, and Mr. Glover Richards,” her father said, introducing them. Glover placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the seat beside his.

  She clutched the back of the chair as heat once again flooded to her cheeks at Glover’s incessant possessiveness. Lately his boldness had increased, and she’d resorted to desperate maneuvering to avoid being alone with him, simply to avoid being ogled and touched in ways just short of unacceptable. Unbidden, her gaze went to Trenton.

  She’d loved him, she realized—when he left, during that first year when his letters were plentiful, and even after she never answered his proposal. She loved him still.

  He looked only at the empty plate before him.

  Chapter Four

  She’d married him?

  Trent wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t heard Mr. Easton introduce them in such a way, if he hadn’t seen the proof with his own eyes. Sadness sent shockwaves reaching to the depths of his soul. All the hopes and endless dreams he’d held close over the last two years ... He felt his heart tear in two. He didn’t dare look at her, afraid of what his eyes might reveal. What had gone wrong between him and Rosalind? God, I don’t understand.

  “Trent owns the west property that backs up to ours,” his father was saying to all seated at the table. “It’s about fifteen hundred acres.”

  “That’s a lot of responsibility for a man your age.” Mr. Standford leaned forward. “How old are you now, son?”

  Trent felt Mr. Richards’s curiosity as the man angled his body toward him, but he chose to look directly at Mr. Standford. “I turned twenty-one this past winter, sir.” He wanted to say more, but his emotions stole his voice. Trent recalled the older man from the night of his father’s announcement, their move to Texas. Rosalind shouldn’t have married Glover Richards. What did she see in him? He was much too old for her. What eighteen-year-old woman wanted a man in his late-forties? Obviously she did.