The Rescue

by Tanya Eavenson

  Trent shielded his face and glanced up at his friend. “Did it come from the west?”

  “Yep,” Blake said. His features were tight, his voice controlled. “The same place Pete had mentioned, I’m sure. I’ll take Lilly to the house and get your horse ready.”

  “Tell Martin to fill however many canteens I have in the house. We’re going to need them.”

  Blake’s eye twitched and his lip tightened. But as he leaned toward Lilly, he teased. Still, the lightheartedness she’d seen in his eyes previously had vanished. “Ready, little miss?”

  Small giggles lingered, trailing Blake and Lilly back to the house.

  “Trent.” Rosalind pulled back from his arm and stopped. “I’m not taking another step until you tell me what is going on. What was that noise?”

  “Gunfire. Either that was a warning shot, or someone is dead.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It had been nearly three weeks since the gunshot ripped through the peace Rosalind and Trent had shared. She thought of nothing else than his declaration. Although he never said the words, his actions spoke of love in a way she’d never expected. And, oh, how she longed for his kiss. She recalled his lips were warm against hers and dreamed of a moment they could share another, but the days lingered. The nights were even longer.

  Rosalind punched the dough with her knuckles, letting out her frustration. Until now, he’d come home far into the evening. His absence during the day was hard enough, but now she’d have to go without even the sight of him ... for how long? Sixteen days so far.

  Martin turned the stove on and slid in an apple crumb cake that was Rosalind’s mother’s recipe. It had always been her favorite growing up, and Trent had enjoyed it too. She only hoped it would remind him that he had a wife waiting for him.

  “The venison stew is cooking. I need to get several jars from the cellar.” Martin’s voice brought her back to what she was doing. Or trying to do. She shook her head. Would she ever make these biscuits right? With a huff, she glanced at Lilly, who was sprinkling flour on the table.

  “I know when you get older, you’re going to make some of the best biscuits around, the kind that melts in your mouth like my mother used to make.” Rosalind rolled out the dough.

  Lilly came to stand beside her. “I don’t want to cook when I get older. I just want to eat.”

  Rosalind bit back her chuckle. They both cut the dough into circles, then laid them on a pan.

  “Rose?”

  “Yes, sweet pea?”

  “Can Martin make these so we don’t have to?”

  At this point, Rosalind couldn’t give up. Wouldn’t give up. All the work and time she’d put into this had to count for something. “Sometimes if you want something bad enough, you can’t give up no matter how hard it is or how many times you might get disappointed. You keep trying.”

  “Is that why you stay up every night ... to see Mr. Easton? Why don’t you and Mr. Easton sleep together in the same bed? Like Mama and Papa do?”

  Rosalind’s cheeks burned. “Um ... I ... Why don’t we finish this up and then go outside?”

  Lilly clapped her hands together in excitement. A plume of white dust burst from her palms. “Who do you think will come today? Blake or Matthew? I guess Blake. I like Blake. Why does he have the scar on his face?”

  Since Trent and his men had been out in the field putting up a fence around the property, either Matthew or Blake would come to the house and let Martin know they were ready for dinner. Rosalind had decided to make a game out of guessing which one it would be each day. “I’m not sure what happened to Blake’s cheek, but it’s not polite to ask.”

  “All right.” Lilly’s head fell, and her auburn hair swopped over her face.

  Rosalind hadn’t braided the child’s hair this morning. Instead, they’d sat in the morning sun and brushed it more than a hundred stokes, then left it undone. Texas’s way of life was much freer than Boston’s, yet not free enough to ask such a personal question, no matter how much she wanted to know herself. “Matthew. I say Matthew will be the one to come.”

  “Actually...” Martin came through the back door, a jar of beans tucked under each arm and stuck in each hand. “Someone else is here to see you.”

  “Oh my.” Rosalind looked at herself. She was a mess. But she was finally going to see Trent. She hurried to the sink and washed her hands. “Lilly, you stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  When she opened the front door, her heart sank. “Can I help you?” she called to the stranger who stood off to the right of the porch. He had his back to her, but something about him seemed familiar, as did the wagon.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ve got these things for ya.” He turned around with a few boxes in hand. His bushy gray brows rose, connecting into one.

  She almost laughed. “Walt! How are you?” She smiled and joined him beside his wagon.

  “Doin’ just fine, ma’am. Ross from the general store in Fort Worth said to give ya and Mr. Easton his apologies since this has taken so long to get to ya, bein’ a present and all.”

  Had Trent remembered her birthday? “What’s inside the boxes?”

  “I don’t rightly know, ma’am. When I got to the store, these were waitin’ for me, but they have yer name on ’em. Where would you like me to put ’em?”

  “Oh, inside by the clock is a small table. You can put them there.” While Walt was inside, she glanced at the other boxes. What were these? Every one of them had either hers or Lilly’s name on them. She headed inside, where Lilly jumped up and down by the door.

  “I see my name! I see my name! Are those for me?”

  “Let’s ask Walter, all right? He’ll know for sure.”

  Lilly ran to the kitchen. “Are the presents for me?” Before Rosalind reached the kitchen, Lilly flew back past her to the brown boxes and yanked the top off one of them.

  “I didn’t hear him answer, Lilly.”

  Walt and Martin both came into the living room. Walt nodded.

  Lilly yanked a white-embroidered, fuchsia dress from the box and held it up against her small frame. “Pink is my favorite color!” She grabbed another box.

  Walt went outside and returned with more packages. Each box had Rosalind’s name written across the top. “This is the last of them. It was good to see ya again, Mrs. Easton. I best be goin’. Bye, Martin.”

  “See you.” Martin nodded, then headed back into the kitchen.

  Rosalind sat on the edge of the couch, fingering a blue-printed cotton dress Lilly would look lovely in. Trent must have bought these. No one else would have done something so kind and thoughtful. How did he know she needed these?

  “Aren’t you going to open yours?” Lilly bounced in front of her.

  Lilly wrapped her arms around her and contentment nestled on each side of Rosalind, hemming her in. As they sat opening the rest of the presents marked for Lilly, Rosalind made a decision. If Trent didn’t come home tonight in time to see her, she’d go to him. She had a lot to tell him, and for once, she was sure the words would come with what she felt flowing from her heart.

  The aroma of baked cinnamon apples teased her senses. Martin must have taken the cake out of the oven. Her mouth watered. “Do you smell that?” She held Lilly at arm’s length and opened her eyes wide. “What do you think it is?”

  “Your cake! Let’s have a party! I can get dressed in one of my new dresses.”

  “Lilly, that sounds wonderful. What do you think about going to see Trent and thanking him for our gifts? I’m sure he would love to have some of our cake and so would the other men.”

  “Can I wear the pink one?”

  “Yes, you may.” Rosalind kissed Lilly’s nose, then handed her the fuchsia dress. “Run upstairs and get ready. I’ll be up in a minute. I’ll need to share our plan with Martin.”

  “Do you think he’ll let us go?”

  “Don’t you worry about that. Now hurry.”

  Lilly giggled as she climbed the stairs. Rosalind
thought to do the same. They were going to see Trent.

  “Martin,” she said as she entered the kitchen. He took a pan of biscuits out of the oven and set it on the counter. “I forgot all about them.” She poked one with her finger. It sprang back from her touch. “Did you do anything to these?”

  “Just put them in is all. They really do look good, Mrs. Easton.”

  “Look, they’re actually soft.” She laughed, putting her hand over her mouth. “Trent needs to see these.”

  “And your cake.” He smiled, his eyes twinkled. “In one of those new dresses he bought for you.”

  “I haven’t even opened all of mine yet.” She stared at Martin. He knew about the boxes, so Trent must have told him. She glanced around the kitchen, excitement filling her. Could she do this? Put herself out there for Trent’s attention? She wanted him to notice her. She wanted to be beautiful for him and to bring her husband home.

  “Will you take us to where Trent and the men are fixing the fence?”

  “Of course. When one of the men comes to let me know they’re ready for dinner, we’ll all go together.”

  “Thank you, Martin. I’d better ready myself.” She pecked his cheek quickly and giggled like a little girl as she went to the table by the clock and snatched up the unopened boxes with her name scrolled across the lids. Tonight, she’d wear a dress that her husband had picked out and take the cake she knew he’d love and biscuits finally good enough to eat. Tonight would be perfect.

  Trent scanned the horizon. Martin should have been here long ago. They still had a lot of work to complete on the fence line and taking longer breaks than necessary wasn’t going to send him home any sooner. Trent paced.

  Maybe there was a problem. No, Matthew would have ridden back and told him.

  He still felt the way his heart dropped when Pete’s shot rang through the air almost three weeks ago. His cowhand’s warning shot meant business. Trent had to find a way to protect his property. If fencing every inch of his land would stop someone from risking his life to steal cattle, it was worth the cost. He didn’t believe in killing, but the other men would have shot the rustler without a second thought. But this raised another issue—keeping Rosalind and Lilly safe. Martin was with them most of the day, and Matthew filled in when Martin couldn’t be there. That was the best Trent could offer until he was free to protect them himself.

  Trent walked over to Pete, who lounged against a tree while whittling away at a piece of wood with his knife.

  “I don’t know what’s keeping them, boss.”

  “I’m heading back out to work. Tell Martin when he gets here.” He shook his head, took a handkerchief from his back pocket, and wiped the back of his neck. “Never mind.”

  Pete slid his knife into his belt sheath. “Where we headin’?”

  Trent didn’t want everyone to get back to work when they needed to eat, needed their strength to finish the job. “You stay here, Pete. I’ll check in after a while.”

  Pete leaned back against the tree and looked over the horizon. “I want you to know I told him to stop. I’d warn anyone who’s on the property, but if I ever see someone stealing or if someone puts one of ours in danger, I’ll shoot.”

  “You’re a good man, Pete. I trust your judgment as much as any of my men. I only hope this deters others from making a grave mistake.” He turned and whistled for his horse.

  Trent headed away from the men and toward the work the other cowhands had done earlier in the week. He wanted to make sure the extension of the barbwire and the added rails were located along the property line. In the past, there’d been some discrepancies, but as he made his way down the line, everything looked in place. If he kept going, he’d be home in no time. Home. It never meant more than it did now.

  He turned his horse and headed in the opposite direction. As soon as he finished this fence line, he wouldn’t need to stay away so much.

  If Rosalind didn’t calm down, she might swoon. Were those stars flying past her eyes? She fanned herself with her hand. How could she be this anxious? Even wearing the three-piece blue cotton dress Trent had bought her did little to quench the heat. She couldn’t think straight. Maybe it was because she wasn’t wearing a bustle for the first time in her life.

  Lilly climbed into the wagon and slid next to her. The child had beamed since slipping into her fuchsia dress. All Rosalind could do was smile. She couldn’t remember being this happy and excited about anything in such a long time.

  She took a deep breath, trying to quiet her heart.

  Matthew came out from the house and set the last platter of food in the bed of the wagon. “Everything smells wonderful. I know the boys will be very happy to see this spread. Especially the cake.” Matthew called to Martin, who came out of the house. “Why don’t you make cakes, Martin?”

  “Never was taught.” The older man climbed into the driver’s seat and took the reins. His gun stuck out like a thumb.

  Rosalind tried to ignore it but wasn’t used to seeing him with his holster on. She moved Lilly to the other side of her, just in case something did happen. Lilly preferred the outside seat anyway.

  “Ready?”

  Rosalind nodded. “Is it far?”

  Martin whipped the reins. “Nope. Not far at all.”

  They were finally on their way. Rosalind rested in the seat while Lilly sat straight up, back stiff as a plank, gazing over the land. Rosalind took in the view as well. The land was flat as far as an eye could see. This was the land Trent loved and toiled over, but she looked forward to eating together like a family.

  Family. Rosalind’s cheeks heated thinking about what Lilly asked her earlier. Was she ready to share his bed? Her thoughts cleared quickly when her hand grazed Martin’s gun. “I’ve never seen you with a gun, Martin. Why are you wearing it now?”

  Lilly leaned over her to look. Rosalind set her back against the seat, and once again Lilly sat straight up and peered out.

  “Trent asked all of us to wear one for protection. To watch out for each other.”

  Rosalind thought about that for a moment. “When you’re with us, does that include Lilly and me?”

  Martin glanced at Matthew, whose horse trotted alongside the wagon, then focused on the horse pulling the wagon. Silence spread between them until Martin finally answered. “Matthew and I are to protect you from whomever comes onto the property.”

  “Oh, I see.” Rosalind tugged at her dress sleeve, touched her bonnet and ribbons. Trent told her someone had been stealing longhorns throughout the county, but he never said anything about her or Lilly needing protection. And by the way Martin’s shoulders now slumped, she guessed Trent didn’t want her to know this bit of information.

  “Look at all the horses!” Lilly’s voice caught her off guard. “Can I help feed them?”

  Martin laughed. “You’ve been spending too much time with those horses in the barn. But I’m sure the men would love for you to help them serve the cake.” He steered the horses to a patch of shade where a few oak trees grew. A dozen or more men rose to their feet.

  Rosalind glanced at each one, but Trent wasn’t with them. Surely he wasn’t far.

  Matthew came to help Lilly down, then returned for her. “Ma’am, may I help you down?”

  She took another quick look around.

  Matthew’s hand rose for her. “He’s not here,” he said. “His horse is gone.”

  Rosalind met his gaze. “Where could Trent have gone? Doesn’t he normally eat with the others?”

  “Always, but we took a bit longer than normal. This land means a great deal to him, so if he had to go without food for a while to get the job done, he’d do without.”

  She accepted Matthew’s help from the wagon, biting her lip as he took her by the waist. In the last few weeks, she’d dreamed of the promise of intimacy with her husband, not only sharing a room, but intimacy of heart and mind. Being truly one.

  Her heart fell as her feet touched the hardened ground.

 
; Chapter Twenty-Four

  Trent hurried home. His wife had come to see him. How often he’d imagined her coming to him and now, when the moment he’d dreamt of finally arrived, he hadn’t been there. Maybe she’d still be awake, though the chances were likely nil since they’d left hours ago.

  He’d heard about the cake she’d made. All the men said he was lucky, not only for her beauty but for how she cooked. Matthew had come up to him as he was about to mount and unraveled a napkin to reveal one of Rosalind’s biscuits. When he took it, he didn’t know what to expect, but as he broke off a piece and placed it on his tongue, it melted like butter. Martin mentioned she’d awakened every morning before he arrived to roll out the dough. Trent wished he could tell her how proud of her he was for never giving up—a trait of hers he’d always admired.

  Trent dismounted and walked his horse into the barn. A shuffling caught his attention. “Who’s here?”

  “What time is it?” Blake’s groggy voice sailed over a few stalls.

  “Time for you to go into the house. I thought you were staying in town until tomorrow?”

  Blake came around the stall and helped Trent tend to his horse. “I was, but I needed to warn you. I learned that before Boyd died, he told the doctor there were three men in the field moving his herd.”

  Trent stilled. “Three?”

  “I deputized four men in town to try to find the ones responsible for his death, but the trail came up cold. I have a feeling the men that killed Boyd knew these parts.” Blake ran a hand over his jaw. “You need to be careful, Trent. You have prize bulls that bring in the highest bidders. These men aren’t doing it for the beef. They’re doing it for money.”

  With his horse tended to, Trent walked from the stall and Blake followed, closing the gate behind them. Trent understood Blake’s concern, but they were almost finished with the fencing. “We have a few more days until the fence on the west end will be finished, which will help.”