The Rescue

by Tanya Eavenson

  Blake glanced down at his hands before meeting his gaze. “For a while maybe, or they might come in a different direction altogether. You need to protect yourself and your family.”

  “That’s what I’m doing. You should know better than anyone that my men are family and I want to protect them. If adding a new fence line, closing the open range, will do that, regardless of what other ranchers want, then I’ll add one. I’m not willing to lose any of my men.”

  “I understand what you’re doing and why, but Rosalind and Lilly are your main concern. I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked—all the men have. We know how dedicated you are, but your family comes first.” Blake took a deep breath and walked a few steps. “I was married once, and with a new wife came big dreams. But two months after we were married, we were robbed. I wasn’t going to let them take what little money we had, so I fought them in the dead of night in our bedroom. While I fought hand to hand with one, I couldn’t see where the other man was. There was a gunshot and then another. I stopped fighting to make sure Abigail was all right. When I turned to look for her, a knife sliced my face and I was hit on the back of the head. I awoke the next morning with a shot in my chest and a dead wife.”

  Blake’s sorrowful gaze bore deep within Trent’s heart, silencing him. “Your men can take care of themselves, but your wife and that little girl in there depend on you. Don’t let them end up like Abigail.” He cleared his throat.

  The pain in his friend’s eyes, even now after all this time, left Trent lost for something to say. “I had no idea, Blake. I’m sorry.”

  “We were so young. Abigail was my Rosalind. We grew up together, and when she turned sixteen, we married. I think about her often. I’d hoped Grace could help ease the memories, but it wasn’t meant to be. I guess it’s for the best. We wouldn’t have been together for the right reasons.”

  Trent placed a hand on Blake’s shoulder and bowed his head. “Please God, be with Blake. Heal him and his heart.”

  Blake nodded and cleared his throat again. “I need to be out here a bit longer. Go see Rosalind. If she’s asleep, wake her. Don’t let another day go by without showing her that she’s loved, because tomorrow might be too late.”

  “Will you be here in the morning?”

  “I will.”

  Entering the house, Trent took his Stetson off and set it on the table. He pulled out a chair, sat, and prayed, pouring out his heart once again for Boyd’s family, for the safety of his men, and for Blake. But when it came time for Rosalind and Lilly, he couldn’t speak. A few moments passed, and he laid himself bare before the Lord. “Lord, have I failed my family by not being here for them? I want to provide for them and give them all that I have, but I’m struggling to know what to do. I need to protect what You’ve given me, but what happens if I fail? Lord, I don’t want to fail my men or my family, but most importantly, I don’t want to fail with what You have given me. What do I do, Lord? Guide and direct my path. Lead me to do Your will. And please protect my family. Amen.”

  Trent opened his eyes as the moon shone in through the window. He wished Rosalind was standing there. He’d try to explain his absence and how his heart was troubled with all that was going on. But more than all that, he’d tell her how much he loved her.

  Should he do as Blake suggested and wake her?

  After Trent washed up, he found himself standing at her bedroom door. Turning the brass handle, he entered, making his way to the bed. Rosalind slept closest to the door with Lilly on her other side. He didn’t know how long he stood there watching them as the moon crested his wife’s face, but after a while, Lilly stirred. Small whimpers caught him by surprise, and he went to the child and collected her in his arms.

  “Papa.” Her arms wrapped around his neck.

  He swallowed hard and whispered, “No, Lilly, it’s Trent.” But she didn’t let go. Instead, she began to cry. “Shhh.” He carried her to the rocking chair in their room and set it in motion. “I’m here, and I won’t let you go unless you want me to.”

  Rosalind stirred and reached across the bed to where Lilly had been. She sat up and looked around. When her gaze found his, she drew the covers to her chest. “How long has she been crying?”

  “Not long, but I’ll need to change my shirt.” He chuckled.

  Lilly raised her head. “Is it dirty?”

  He smiled at her. “It’s clean. I wouldn’t hold you with a dirty shirt.”

  “I don’t mind.” She snuggled against him, and his heart melted right then and there. He imagined what it would be like to have a child of his own. A child with Rosalind.

  Trent didn’t remember when he stopped rocking but began the motion once again. He ran his hand down Lilly’s hair and continued to rock. “I’m afraid I missed you both today when you came to dinner. If I had known you were coming, nothing could have dragged me away. And what did I hear about this cake of yours, Mrs. Easton? Best thing the men had ever eaten, so I’ve been told.”

  Rosalind propped her back against the wall and brought her knees to her chest, still clinging to the blanket. “My mother used to make it. It’s called an apple crumb cake.”

  He couldn’t recall it. “Will you make it again sometime?”

  “If Lilly will help me. She added the sugar and flour, the best assistant I’ve ever had.”

  Lilly yawned and nodded her head.

  “I think that means yes.”

  Rosalind slid her legs down and laid her head against the wall. “Did you finish with the section of fencing you were working on?”

  “I did. There’s one last section to be done before it’s completed. Maybe two, three days at the most. I hope this will deter anyone from stealing. Every inch will be fenced.” He inhaled deeply, thinking about Boyd. How was Boyd’s wife handling his death? And their daughter? He closed his eyes, pushing back the hurt of losing his friend, and gave in to the rocking motion.

  A sweet yawn came from the bed. Rosalind held her palm across her mouth. Maybe he should try to lie the child down so they could sleep. He rose to his feet and walked to the side of the bed, opposite from where his wife sat. After laying Lilly down, Trent tucked the covers and kissed her forehead. Rosalind slid down under her blanket. He strolled over to her and whispered, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She looked up at him wide-eyed. “You’ll be here? I thought you said two or three days before you’ll be finished.”

  “Do you want me to stay?” He wanted her to say yes, but she only stared up at him. “Or would you rather I go?” Still nothing.

  He knelt and took a strand of her hair, rubbing it between his fingers. Without thinking, he brought it to his nose. The smell of rain and sunshine intertwined. Trent held it there for a moment longer. He released it and watched as it fell against the blanket that covered her. He wanted to be the one next to her, feeling her within his arms. “Share your heart. Tell me what you want, Rose.”

  When she didn’t answer, he continued. “Your biscuit melted when I plopped a piece in my mouth. If I stay, will you make them for me in the morning?”

  Her brows wrinkled. “You ate one? But how? They were gone.”

  “Matthew. It was the best biscuit I’ve ever eaten.” He ran a finger along her brow, smoothing it out.

  She closed her eyes and mumbled, “If you’re here when I awake, then I will.”

  “I’ll be here.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Good night.” With a deep breath and much determination, he rose and shut the door behind him.

  As he headed back to the kitchen for a cup of water, Matthew came in. Blake was close behind, hand resting on the butt of his gun, eyes focused. Matthew moved to the window and peered out from the curtain toward the barn.

  Trent studied them intently. “What’s happened?”

  “We found someone outside the house,” Matthew said and gestured toward Blake. “He has him tied up.”

  Trent’s stomach tightened. “Do you know who it is?”

  Blake’s ey
es narrowed. “Never seen him before, but he claims he knows you. Says he’s from Boston.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Trent’s pulse pounded in his ears as he hurried upstairs and grabbed his holster from his dresser before meeting Matt-hew and Blake in the kitchen.

  Blake stepped in front of the door, blocking his exit. “What happened in Boston?”

  Trent narrowed his eyes. “Nothing that concerns you.” If he had to push through his friend, he would.

  Matthew stood a bit taller and, as if he read Trent’s thoughts, moved to stand alongside Blake. “What happened in Boston?”

  “Why is that so important right now?” Trent’s eyes burned into Matthew.

  Matthew tilted his hat up above his brows and studied him a moment. “Before you got home, we received a letter from your father telling us to protect you and Rosalind. We know you’re in danger. The question is why?”

  Trent didn’t care what happened to him. All he cared about was his wife upstairs. He’d do whatever he had to do to keep her safe. He felt for his pistol.

  Blake’s gaze followed his hand. “Lay your gun down, Trent.” His voice turned stern.

  For a second Trent thought about telling them what had taken place while he was away. But they were wasting precious time when he could finally put an end to all this. Abuse would never touch his wife again. He gripped the butt of his gun and met Blake’s stare. “What would you do to the man who killed your wife?”

  Blake’s eyes hardened. “As sheriff, I can’t stop you until after you killed the man, but as your friend, I’ll stop you from ruining your life and the life of your family.”

  Trent looked to Matthew, whose eyes flicked back and forth between the two men. He continued to block Trent’s way. Both men’s gazes moved to something over his shoulder, and Trent turned.

  Rosalind slowly descended the stairs and pulled her long robe tight around her. “I know it’s late ...” She stopped before the bottom step and tucked her hair behind her ears, a blush tinting her cheeks. “Lilly is asking for you. I can’t get her to go back to sleep, and I was hoping...”

  She was hoping he’d come. Trent let out a long, calming breath. Blake was right, his family needed him. “Tell her I’m coming, but it will be in a few minutes.”

  A small smile raised the corners of her mouth. “Thank you for being there for her.” She spun and climbed up the stairs.

  Trent inhaled another deep breath and turned back to Blake, meeting his gaze. “I’ll give you my word. I won’t use my gun unless it’s needed.”

  Blake gave a slow nod, and Matthew’s stance seemed to relax. Without another word, they left the house and entered the barn, single file, Trent behind the other two. He gasped at the sight of Mr. Standford tied up in a chair against one of the stalls.

  “Trenton.” Panic registered on his face. “Tell these men who I am. Tell them I’m Rosalind’s father.”

  Trent could sense Blake’s and Matthew’s gazes on him, but he didn’t take his eyes from Mr. Standford. He didn’t trust him. Any man who would allow a woman—his own daughter—to be beaten wasn’t worthy of trust. “And because you’re a relative, you think I should free you? I’m sorry, Mr. Standford, but you’re sadly mistaken.”

  “Please, Trenton, I’ve come to make amends with my daughter. What I did was wrong.”

  “Wrong?” Hot anger trickled into Trent’s veins, and he could feel it burning as his next words came. “How could you care so little? How could you let a man abuse her into submission just so he could have his way?” Trent took a few steps back, taking control of his emotions, and ran his fingers through his hair. “How could a father do that to his own daughter?”

  “I ... I had no proof he had been hurting her. She never said a word.”

  “She stayed with Glover to protect your life. Yours, Sydney’s, and the children’s.”

  Roger’s gaze fell to the floor. “I should have been the one doing the protecting. When I finally realized who Glover was, it was too late. I tried to set Rosalind free from my promise of marriage, but Glover wouldn’t have it.” Roger looked up at him. “I was distraught over Sarah’s illness, and that’s when Glover told me he loved Rosalind and wanted to marry her. That’s when I gave my approval. If I had known the type of man he was, I would never have said yes. That’s why I had to come. I had to apologize. But now I know I have a lot more to apologize for.”

  “Where are my father and mother? Weren’t you staying with them?”

  “I don’t know where they are now, but your father is one of the reasons I came. He told me you both would be here at the ranch. I brought you something to prove what I’m saying is true.” Rosalind’s father leaned to the side and twisted slightly in the chair.

  “What is it?” Trent didn’t really care to know. Tomorrow morning he’d make sure Blake took him straight to Fort Worth. Straight back to Boston where he belonged.

  “It’s in my pocket, but as you can see, I’m unable to reach it.”

  Trent nodded for Matthew to release him. When he was set free, Mr. Standford rubbed his wrists, reached into his pocket, and pulled out from his jacket a white envelope. “I’ve come to make amends, not only with Rosalind, but with you.” With an outstretched hand, Roger gave Trent a letter.

  Trent’s grasp tightened around it. The letter in which he proposed to Rosalind. “We loved each other. Why wasn’t I good enough?”

  “Money, greed ... I also knew Glover was wealthy and, with your father leaving from the position as bank president to become a rancher, I didn’t see how he’d make it. I wanted Rosalind to be cared for. But I also had a gambling problem and needed money to pay off my debts. I thought Glover could provide both. I know it was wrong, and I’m sorry for what I’ve done. I can’t change the past, but I can ask for forgiveness.”

  “I’m not sure how freely she will forgive, but you’ll need to earn mine, and that starts with how you treat Rosalind from this point on. Matthew, get some money, enough for him to stay in Graham. He’s not staying here.” Matthew nodded and left the barn.

  Trent pocketed the letter. “Roger, where’s the last letter I sent Rosalind?”

  “I have it, but I want to give it to her myself.”

  Blake held out his hand to help Roger up. “I’ll take you to town and get you settled in, but so you know, I’m the sheriff. I’m also real partial to the Eastons.”

  “I think we understand ourselves,” Roger stated dryly, then glanced at Trent. “May I come back tomorrow?”

  “You may visit only in the daytime while you’re in town. Don’t come at night, or I’ll not be responsible for what happens. Now if you’ll excuse me, my wife is waiting.” Trent stalked out into the yard, wanting to hit something. Instead, he hurried as he entered the house to take off his holster and climb the stairs to their bedroom. Lilly was cuddled within Rosalind’s arms, both sound asleep. He knelt by the bed and prayed for his wife, because tomorrow she’d have to face her past head on.

  Rosalind stretched her legs. Little knees bumped hers under the covers as Lilly rolled over to face the wall. Streams of light filled the room. Rosalind sat up, rubbed her eyes, and blinked twice. Trent slept in the rocking chair across from the bed, arms crossed against his chest. His head hung to the left. Her fingers itched to run through his tousled hair and straighten each strand.

  She let out a sigh. Yesterday hadn’t turned out the way she’d expected, but last night, the way Trent cared for Lilly, and seeing him there now ...

  Rosalind pulled back the covers and tiptoed to the rocker. “Trent,” she whispered, taken by her love for him.

  “Hmm.”

  “It’s morning.”

  His head turned to the sound of her voice, eyes still closed. She remembered the time he became sick as a child and there was a possibility he wouldn’t live. She’d snuck into his bedroom while she and her mother visited, and seeing sweat on his brow, had taken the washcloth lying there and wiped his face.

  Rosalind h
ad stood over Trent while he slept then, but now she did so as his wife. Her heart raced as she touched his hairline. Her fingers inched through his blond hair, remembering its softness passing over her hand that day long before. His head moved, allowing her to wander. Her fingers found their way across his stubble, pricking her fingers. The roughness exhilarated her, as did the man she loved.

  He looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire. She’d seen that look before in another man, but it no longer scared her. This time, she welcomed it.

  Trent rose from the rocker and drew her to him, lifting her chin. “I’ll protect you with my life. Know this. And know how much I love you.” His words confused her, but as their lips met and his fingers moved along her neck, she nearly drowned in pleasure.

  Tell him. You’re safe. Tell him you love him.

  Rosalind moaned.

  He kissed her chin and then her cheek before pulling her against his chest. “I need to show you something. Will you come with me to my room? Lilly will be all right.”

  She nodded. From the edge of the bed, he took the robe he’d bought and slipped it on her, then escorted her to his room. Closing the door behind them, he withdrew an envelope from his pocket.

  “I received this last night.”

  She looked at the letter, taking it in her hand. Her breath caught. “Where did you ...? I threw it away, but when I went back for it, the letter had disappeared.” She scanned the other side and met his gaze. “I don’t understand.”

  He looked away, walked toward his window, and stared out.

  She moved to stand beside him and followed his gaze to the barn.

  “Your father. He’s here.”

  Her legs gave way, and Trent caught her elbow and sought the bed for her to sit. Trent knelt in front of her, set the letter aside, and took her hands. “He came here last night looking for you. He wants to apologize. I made it clear he was only to come in the daytime, and I expect he’ll be here soon if he isn’t already. Blake took him to town.”