The Rescue

by Tanya Eavenson

  Walt went into the house, and the other man turned to peer up at her and Lilly. A thousand questions seemed to race across his features and in his blue eyes. His jaw tightened, emphasizing a jagged scar that ran across his cheek. Rosalind swallowed hard and squeezed Lilly to her side.

  “Mrs. Easton. Mr. Oliver Hadley sent word of you and his daughter’s arrival. May I help you both down?” He held out his hand.

  Lilly looked up at her. Rosalind hesitated, glancing around for Walt. It was almost dark now, and he was nowhere in sight.

  “You may help Lilly, but I can manage.” She stifled a yawn and rose from the bench. Her body ached all over, and her clothes were matted with dirt. But her thoughts were never far from Lilly and Catherine, and if she’d made the right decision to travel without Trent. Heaviness pressed on her shoulders, but she couldn’t allow the fear she felt earlier to dictate her actions. She needed to remember that in the future. Once her feet touched the ground, she let out a long breath.

  “My name’s Blake McKenny. Hope your trip out here was fine.” He retrieved their bags from the wagon.

  Walt came out of the house with a wide grin. He was eating something. “That cook a yers is somethin’ else.” He licked his fingers. “I bes’ be gettin’ home. Thank ya, Blake.” He climbed into the wagon, took the reins, and secured a package on the bench next to him.

  “Anytime. Don’t be a stranger. Preacher’s comin’ on Sun-day. Hope to see you then.”

  Walt was leaving her alone with a man she didn’t know? She looked to Blake and the scar on his face and turned back to Walt. She had the urge to ask Walt to stay until Trent returned, but held her tongue. What did she tell herself moments ago? Fear wouldn’t dictate her actions.

  When Walt began to slowly pull away, she waved. “Bye, Walt. Thank you for your help.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He tipped his hat and yanked the reins, leaving them.

  “Let’s get you both inside before night falls. Watch your step.” Blake took the two porch steps in one stride.

  Rosalind glanced back just as Walt disappeared over the hill. She took a deep breath, collected Lilly’s hand, then followed Blake up onto the porch and inside. A stone fireplace nestled on the left wall, flanked by couches. To her right, next to the stairwell, stood a grandfather clock beside a desk. Though the furnishings seemed sparse for such a large area, the overall result was lovely. And familiar.

  Rosalind bit her lip to keep her emotions at bay. The resemblance of this room reminded her of a house she drew so long ago, when she dreamed of her future. Had Trent built this home based on those awful drawings?

  “Are you all right, ma’am?” Blake eyed her as he set their bags down. When he straightened, a sheriff’s badge peeked out from underneath his vest.

  She breathed a sigh of relief. She and Lilly were safe. “I’m fine. Thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier, please forgive me. I’m Rosalind Easton, and this is Lilly Hadley, my charge.”

  Blake’s eyes lightened as he stared at her for the briefest of moments, then he focused his attention to Lilly. He knelt before her. “Do you like horses?”

  Lilly’s eyes gleamed at the question. “Yes, sir. Rose asked me the same thing when we left the train.”

  Blake smiled up at Rosalind and then turned his attention back to Lilly. “Well, tomorrow I’ll take you out to see the horses. Would you like that?”

  The corners of Lilly’s mouth lifted at his suggestion. She glanced at her. “May I, Rose?”

  It was strange to see a grown man down on a child’s level, but what surprised Rosalind more was the kindness radiating from him. She had little experience being around men, but not everyone would treat a person like Glover. Trent wasn’t like him, and she sensed this man wasn’t either. Swallowing any lasting doubts, she agreed. “Of course. As long as I can join you.” She met Blake’s gaze.

  He nodded.

  “Thank you, Mr. McKenny. Then we will enjoy seeing the horses.”

  “Please, call me Blake.” He rose to his feet.

  Rosalind nodded. “Blake. I know you mentioned receiving a telegram from Mr. Hadley, but did you receive word from Trent or his father?”

  “No, ma’am. I have to be honest, when I received the telegram from Mr. Hadley saying Mrs. Easton was on her way, you weren’t who I pictured.”

  “Oh, I guess not.” Rosalind didn’t know what else to say or how much to reveal of her circumstances. They both stood in uncomfortable silence. Blake’s gaze settled on her for a moment too long. Rosalind could only imagine what he must be thinking. Was she really who she claimed to be? If so, why wasn’t Trent with her? She almost couldn’t blame him if he was as unsure of her as she was of him a moment ago.

  She decided to clear the air before they went any further. “I know this is a bit strange, us arriving here out of the blue, but I assure you I’m Trent’s wife.”

  “We know who you are, ma’am. I have no doubt you’re Trent’s wife.” Blake’s expression struck her, as if something ignited behind his lit eyes. “If you don’t mind, I’m not tellin’ anyone who you are just yet, only that family has come to visit.” He chuckled. “Matthew is Trent’s right-hand man, and he’s tendin’ to the animals, but I hope to keep it from him a bit longer. I have some business to attend to in town. I’ll return later this evening, but if you don’t mind keepin’ it a secret for a few hours, I’d like to see his reaction when he hears of the news.”

  Why didn’t Blake want Trent’s right-hand man to know who she was? Was she in danger from this Matthew fellow? Did she need Blake—the sheriff—to protect her? Rosalind’s hands began to tremble. She clasped them together in front of her, and her thoughts leapt to the way Blake’s eyes brightened when he spoke of Matthew. It wasn’t a look of concern but...playfulness?

  Lilly tugged on her skirt. “Do you think we can see the horses tonight?”

  Blake ran his fingers over his scar and chin. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be in town tonight, but I promise we’ll see the horses right after breakfast. How does that sound?”

  Lilly smiled again, but now Rosalind’s wavering fear turned into panic and welled up in her chest. Breakfast? Was she to cook? Of course she was. She was Trent’s wife now. “Can you direct me the kitchen?” she asked, glancing around.

  He nodded to another room. “Through the entrance there.”

  As she made her way to investigate, Blake followed. The kitchen was a bit larger than what she was accustomed to. But once again, the design reminded her of her drawings. It ran lengthwise instead of being a square like hers or her sister’s.

  She inhaled a weary breath. How were Sydney and the twins? Was Joshua home now? She hoped so for everyone’s sakes. Glover would think twice before taking his anger out on her sister or the children if Joshua was around.

  Needing a distraction from her thoughts, Rosalind lifted Lilly in her arms and walked to one of the windows. Nightfall met the land as far as the eye could see. The evening gave way to a clear view of the stars winking at her from the heavens above. “How beautiful. So vast and wide.”

  As is My love for you.

  Rosalind stood straight and listened for the voice she heard, yet none came. Had it been her imagination? No. The whispered words were clear as the stars above. She set Lilly down and stared out the window once again. The tension and fear she felt moments ago drifted away.

  Lord? Is that You?

  A man’s voice wafted inside. “Just because you’re sheriff now doesn’t mean ...” The screen door to the kitchen slammed behind the man carrying the voice. He gave her a cocky grin, then looked her up and down. “Blake, you’ve changed quite a bit since becoming sheriff.”

  Blake chuckled in the corner of the kitchen, where he was pouring a cup of coffee. “Don’t mind him. That’s only Matthew.”

  So this fellow was Matthew? He reminded her of a redwood tree she read about in one of her books.

  Matthew frowned. “What type of introduction is that? I
’m not used to finding beautiful women in the kitchen. She’s a lot better to look at than you and the other cowpokes. That’s for sure.”

  “You better watch yourself. You don’t know who this is.”

  Matthew tilted his hat above his eyes and lifted one of his brows. “Well now, ma’am, to say I’m intrigued is an under-statement.”

  “Matthew, I’ll let you introduce yourself, but behave.” Blake turned to her. “Ma’am, I’ve got to go into town now, but no matter what he says, I am leaving you in capable hands.”

  Blake took a sip of coffee, then faced Matthew. His countenance fell. “Another longhorn is missin’ from Boyd’s ranch.”

  Matthew groaned and followed Blake into the living area. “Another one? How many does that make?”

  The conversation turned, and so did Rosalind, taking Lilly and their bags upstairs undetected as the men’s conversation became strained. A light guided them to the top of the stairs where it grew and flickered all around her as they stood in front of two rooms, one to the right, one to the left. Rosalind set the bags down and entered the doorway to the right. An oil lamp burned next to the bed along the wall. A dresser nestled in the corner, and a rocking chair sat across from the bed, curtains set behind it covering most of the window. The room was spacious enough for both her and Lilly.

  She opened one of the dresser drawers. Empty. “This room doesn’t look like its being used.”

  She exited the bedroom and was drawn to the light seeping from under the door opposite hers. Rosalind gave in to her curiosity and stepped across the wide hall to peek inside the second room. Relief was her reward, as there was a chamber pot and a bathing tub. No running water, but perhaps Blake could help her carry the buckets upstairs. Maybe Texas wasn’t as rugged as she thought.

  She grabbed the bags she’d deposited outside the bedroom, then reentered. Lilly sat in the rocking chair with her rabbit.

  “How about we right ourselves with a bath and dispose of our dusty clothes? How does that sound?” She opened their bags and unpacked, placing her things in one side of the dresser, Lilly’s on the other.

  “Come on, Mr. Sanders.” Lilly slid from the rocker and sniffed her rabbit, scrunching her nose. “You need a bath.”

  Rosalind stifled a giggle, grateful for the joy the child gave and hoped she too was being a comfort to Lilly in return. Rosalind couldn’t help but think of Catherine and wonder how she was. She wanted to let Oliver know she and Lilly arrived safely, but even more, she wished to know Catherine’s health. Was she even alive?

  Rosalind glanced at Lilly. The child had set the rabbit down and was untying her shoes. She wanted to ask how she was managing without her parents but thought better of it. She didn’t want to cause the child pain. Maybe it was best not to mention her parents unless she brought them up first. They both had so much to adjust to, and they’d do it together. But what would Trent think once he returned home to find Lilly? And could she tell him that no matter how much she loved him and enjoyed the heated kiss they shared in Boston, she wasn’t ready to share his bed?

  Chapter Twenty

  Rosalind blew hair from her eyes with a quick puff of her lips and continued to cut a row of circles into the dough. She hoped what she fixed would be enough. When she and Lilly finally ate supper last night, the house was dark except for the light she carried from her room. She and Lilly had set out everything she’d need for breakfast. Blake and Matthew never came back in, but she was sure she’d see them sometime this morning.

  After placing the dough on a tray, Rosalind slid it into the oven. She found eggs in the icebox and set them to boil. As she put away the lard and salt, the screen door screeched open to admit a gray-haired man. He stopped cold and frowned.

  She smiled regardless of the older man’s perplexing stare as if she’d grown another head. Boy, the cowhands come in early. Tomorrow she’d make sure to have things ready. “Hi. The biscuits are cooking and the eggs are boiling, so it shouldn’t take long now for everything to be finished.” Rosalind glanced outside—it wasn’t even light yet. “Would you care for some coffee?” She opened a few cabinets, having forgotten to find the coffee the night before.

  “No. I’ll get the coffee. You sit.” He pulled out a chair.

  That was nice of him, but she had too much to finish. Still, she didn’t want to be rude. A few minutes should be fine. Rosalind sank into the chair, thankful she’d done most of the cooking for her and Father these last two years. All those meals had prepared her for today. Although it was her mother who taught her to cook—at least some. Biscuits and desserts were her specialty.

  The gray-haired man set a pot of water on the stove to boil, then reached for a bowl labeled COFFEE. How had she missed it? Well, one less thing to find tonight at supper.

  The clock in the kitchen ticked away the silence when the front door creaked. She stood and went to her boiling eggs. Small crackles began to appear across the shell. Done. She removed the pot and placed it in the sink.

  Matthew entered the kitchen and tipped his hat in her direction. “Good morning.” He grabbed a mug from a shelf.

  “Good morning,” she replied, peeling off eggshells.

  “I see you met Martin.” Matthew handed the gray-haired man the cup. “Ma’am, you disappeared upstairs yesterday, and I never found out your name. I think Blake is keeping you a secret for some reason.”

  Martin poured Matthew a steamy dark brew that resembled rich, dark chocolate, then cast a look at her.

  Matthew leaned his hip against the counter. “So what’s for breakfast, Miss ...”

  Rosalind inhaled. The last thing she wanted to do was start her visit off on the wrong foot. “I’m afraid I haven’t been a good hostess. Let me introduce myself. I’m Rosalind Easton, Trent’s wife.”

  Matthew choked, set his mug down, and sucked in a heavy breath. His watered eyes found hers. He tried to speak but coughed out her name. “Ros ... a ... lind?”

  Blake came into the kitchen with a wide grin, obviously having overheard their conversation. “Oh, did I forget to mention that?” He turned toward Martin and said, “I’ll take a cup, Martin,” before sending a wink Rosalind’s way. “I would like to introduce you both to Mrs. Easton.”

  It grew so quiet and still, Rosalind’s face heated under their gazes. She mumbled a hurried “Excuse me” and left from the room. She needed to check on Lilly anyway.

  Matthew called to her, his boots sharp on the wood floor as he followed her to the stairs. “Rosalind. Wait. I mean ... Mrs. Easton. I’ve waited a long time to meet you.”

  She stopped halfway up the staircase and craned her neck to see him. “Meet me?”

  “Yes, ma’am. It wasn’t so much Trent’s words, though he spoke of you, but it was clear by his actions you were special. He only had eyes for you.”

  Her face warmed even hotter than before. Did all cowboys speak so plain with someone they’d only met? “Thank you.” Her gaze fell to the wooden stairs. “Trent should be on the train today. I was to meet him in Fort Worth.”

  “Trent can find his way home.” Matthew chuckled. “He’ll never leave again.” He sniffed the air. “Do you smell something burning?”

  “Oh, no!” She ran past him. When she entered the kitchen, Martin was lifting a tray from the oven. She’d baked her mother’s biscuits to perfection many times before, but now, when she needed it the most, “golden” wasn’t in her repertoire. It had been replaced by dark-brown and—Rosalind was certain—rock hard. Her shoulders slumped.

  Martin threw her biscuits in the trash. “I’ll make more, Mrs. Easton. Don’t you worry yourself none.”

  First day as Trent’s wife and a man had to offer to cook where she’d failed. Rosalind nodded in embarrassment and, once again, headed upstairs to check on Lilly.

  After breakfast, Lilly sat next to Rosalind at the kitchen table and read her book to Mr. Sanders. To listen as she recalled the story Catherine must have read to her warmed her heart. How was she?


  Blake came into the room, and she could see him clearly as he sunk onto the couch in the living room, several papers in hand. The front door banged hard against the frame, and Matthew pushed through the doorway, his expression strained. Rosalind leaned forward in her chair, thankful her view extended to include the living room. She captured Matthew’s every hardened step.

  He yanked off his Stetson and flung a sheet of paper on Blake’s lap. “Read this.”

  Blake set his other papers aside and lifted Matthew’s. “What is it?”

  “A telegram from Mr. Easton. There might be trouble.”

  Rosalind’s heart jolted. Trouble? She stood and quickly walked to the living room. Although tempted to snatch the telegram from Blake’s hand, she refrained by clasping her hands together. “What does it say?”

  Blake rubbed his scar and jaw as he met her gaze. “I don’t mean to pry, ma’am, but why wasn’t Trent with you on the train? Seems a bit peculiar he’d send his wife on ahead without ’im.”

  Rosalind opened her mouth to demand to read the telegram but then clamped her lips closed. She was in no position to demand anything. She was no one to them, but should she tell them that with her living here, their own lives might be in danger? She swallowed the lump in her throat. “To protect me.”

  Blake rose and handed her the telegram. “And Mr. Easton seems to want to protect you both.”

  Rosalind’s hand trembled as she accepted the paper.

  Matthew and Blake,

  Trent and his wife will arrive in Fort Worth on separate trains but will meet, then return to Graham together. My greatest concern is for their safety, which caused the delay of this telegram. Mariam and I will follow at a later date when things are settled here in Boston.

  T. E.

  Chills dashed up her spine as Rosalind folded the paper. What had stopped Mr. Easton from sending word earlier? Had Glover ... Sydney, the children ... Father? She pressed a hand to her stomach. Surely they were safe.