Rosalind bent, collected the flowers off the ground, and stood. “Ready to head back?”
Lilly smiled at them and got up, reaching for Trent. He lifted the child onto the horse, but before he could help Rosalind mount, she touched his arm. The flowers she held in her other hand were trembling.
“My father can stay.”
“Fort Worth Station!” the conductor bellowed upon entering the car, then exited to the next.
A few minutes later, the pungent air of animal flesh and manure seized Glover’s breath as he stepped from the train. A smirk lifted his lips. I knew you would come through for me, Roger. It was only a matter of time.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“How many more days until the fence lines are finished?” Trent asked Matthew as he milked, his head resting against their family cow. Trent hadn’t realized how bad he had it for Rosalind when he named this cow Rose. Hopefully Rosalind would never find out. He smiled just thinking about her and the way her hair had shone in the moonlight the night before. He stood and poured his pail of milk into a large bucket.
“A day or two. I’ll help finish one of the sections while Blake takes the other to make sure it’s done right.” Matthew raised his head from the cow, and the ring of milk against metal was quelled. Horse hooves scuffled against the ground, then came to a stop. “Do you think that’s her father coming up?”
“I don’t think so. It’s too early. It’s probably Walt. He has an order for me that hasn’t come in yet. Besides, Rosalind and Lilly won’t be up for a while. They slept restlessly all night.”
“How have you managed, sleeping in that rockin’ chair?”
Trent shot him a look. There were some things you didn’t discuss, and he and his wife’s sleeping arrangements was one of them. But everyone knew. “I’ll do whatever I have to.”
“Didn’t mean to pry.”
Trent nodded.
Matthew rose and poured his milk into the larger bucket. “I’m heading inside, but before I do, I haven’t had a chance to tell you how happy I am for you and Rosalind.” He grabbed his hat from the nail.
“I appreciate it, Matthew. Oh, make sure you leave me some coffee.”
Matthew chuckled as he left for the house.
Trent finished milking the last cow and breathed deeply the smell of hay and manure. It wasn’t that he minded milking. Still, he’d take Blake’s place mending fences any day. But Trent needed to be close to home.
Rosalind’s strained voice carried to him as he reached the front porch steps. He hurried into the house. Tears streamed down his wife’s face and she waved a piece of paper in her hand. Her father stood on the other side of the living room by the stone fireplace, looking rather sorrowful. Matthew looked on from the corner of the kitchen.
Rosalind’s voice broke as she read.
Dear Rose,
I hope you don’t mind me calling you Rose. It’s just, when I think of you, I think of roses. The softness of your skin, your beauty, and the way you ...
I hope you are well. I’m as well as I can be with such a distance between us. I’m looking out across my land and hope you will be able to see it for yourself soon. Would you be happy here? I pray you will.
I’m writing this letter while I wait for a few men to help me build the barn. We plan to build two, one for horses and the other for milking cows. I’ve never built a barn, but I love working with my hands. It has given me a sense of worth like I’ve never had before.
It’s been two months since your last correspondence. I hope I wasn’t too bold, asking for your hand in marriage in a letter. But I needed you to know my intentions and my plans for us. Please write soon.
Yours affectionately,
Trenton
“Answer me. How could you?” Rosalind hollered. “How could you keep this letter from me? Didn’t you understand how much I loved Trent? Couldn’t you see that? Yet you gave me—your daughter—away for money.” Rosalind wiped her face with the back of her hand. “You tried to take everything away from me, but God wouldn’t let you.”
Roger stood ghostly white and still as a statue. “I’m so sorry, Rosalind. I can never take back what I’ve done. I can only apologize.” He finally took several steps toward her, wiping away his own tears.
Rosalind held up her hand, letter gripped in her palm. “Don’t.” She spun toward the door, avoiding Trent’s gaze as she rushed past him.
Trent looked at Roger, who stared at the ground. “I think it would be best if you left. Give her a few days. I need to go to her. You know your way out.” He followed his wife into the yard. She stopped at the fence by the barn, where the horses fed on the hay Matthew had scattered earlier. Trent collected her in his arms.
“I’m tired of being strong ... holding myself together. I can’t do it anymore. I’m so weak.” She cried. “I just can’t. I’m tired of trying to survive.”
“You don’t need to survive any longer. You need to rest in the knowledge God will be the strength you need. Lean on Him, Rosalind. Trust Him.”
After Rosalind’s breathing settled and she wiped her tears for a final time, she turned her head against Trent’s chest. “It’s so beautiful here.”
He wondered what she’d seen. The gray sky held a haze. Was this really beautiful to her? There were no flowers or trees, but what he planted. Only wide-open spaces and fenced-in cows and horses. Animal smells lingered in the air, and the chores never ended. “I meant what I said in my letter. I hope you will love it here. But I know—”
“I already do.”
She said it so matter-of-factly, he couldn’t question her words. She meant them. Trent kissed the top of her head.
Rosalind lifted her face and pointed. “Why is the brown horse pushing the black horse with its nose?”
“The brown horse is the leader. He decides who will eat with him, if anyone. I guess you can say there is an order of domin-ance with each pack of horses. After the brown horse eats, then the others will follow suit in that order.”
“Seems a bit mean, doesn’t it? Pushing others around to get what you want.” She moved from his arms.
“I told your father to return in a few of days.”
“Why do you keep insisting he return?” Rosalind folded her arms across her chest. “He belongs in Boston.”
Trent recaptured the steps she took and tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. He felt her body relax. “All right. If that’s what you truly want, then I’ll send word to him at the boarding-house.”
Horse hooves sounded in the distance. It seemed Pete was riding in and their conversation was to be shortened.
Rosalind turned and shielded her eyes.
Trent hurt for his wife and the pain she continued to endure at her father’s hand, and no matter how much he didn’t want to forgive her father, he knew his heavenly Father asked it of him and Rosalind as well.
Pete halted his horse and crossed his arms on the horn of the saddle. “Hello, Mrs. Easton.”
She gave him a genuine smile. “Hello, Pete. It’s good to see you again.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He nodded then turned to Trent. “The fence is almost completed. We need ya to tell us the size of the gate you wanna put in.”
Trent placed his hand on Rosalind’s lower back. “Care to go for a ride?”
“What about Lilly? Should we leave her?”
“She’s still sleeping. Matthew can stay until we get back.”
“I’ll ask him while you get the horse saddled.” Rosalind skirted the fence and headed toward the house.
Trent watched her leave. He couldn’t pull his attention back to Pete, who waited on him. She was hurting. Was he only making it worse?
Trent finally turned his gaze to Pete and found him smiling. “What?”
Pete cleared his throat. “Oh, nothing, boss.”
“Go tell Blake I’m on my way.”
His cowhand’s smile widened. “Yes, sir!” He hurried off.
Trent entered the barn
and yanked the stall door open, calling his horse. After putting the bridle in place, he hoisted the pad and saddle on just as Rosalind appeared at the barn entrance, tying her bonnet under her chin. He walked the horse out, stopping before her.
“Lilly’s still asleep.”
“Good.” He helped her place her foot in the stirrup, then up. Trent climbed behind her and slid an arm around her waist, grasping the reins in the other hand. “I’ll take us along the fence line while I’m at it, if you don’t mind.”
Rosalind looked back at him at an angle, her soft cheek against his lips. “Not at all. Please tend to whatever it is you need to do.”
His lips pressed along her cheek. She leaned back into him completely, holding her face to his. Could he love this woman any more?
They rode some distance before the start of the fence line. Rosalind pointed to an area of hardwoods where a few longhorns rested in the shade while others bathed in a small pond. The water had obviously receded even more, but there was still enough for them to wade in. “I hope it rains soon. We can really use the water.”
Her back stiffened. “Will it storm like before?”
He remembered how she paced until late into the night the last time it stormed. “Chances are higher in the spring and fall, but you’re safe in the house.” He pulled her back to him, sensing her body relax yet again at his touch.
“You and your men did some fine work on the fence.”
His heart quickened at his wife’s praise. “Thank you.” He studied the work as he rode, making sure the distances between the wood planks were spread evenly, nailed to the inside, and two strands of barbwire were attached. This was a costly endeavor, but well worth it.
They neared a clearing, just past a hedge of trees, where Blake waited, arms across his chest, feet spread apart.
“Sheriff.” Trent tipped his hat.
Blake shot him a smirk, then flashed Rosalind a smile. “Good morning.”
“How are you, Blake? Is the fence completed?”
“Doin’ fine, ma’am. But we need Trent for one final detail before we’re finished.”
Pete strolled over to them. “Boss, do you think you could set the lines for how wide you want that gate?”
Trent hopped down from his horse and grabbed Rosalind’s waist, setting her down on her feet. He met her gray eyes and momentarily found himself lost.
“The men are waiting,” she whispered, peering over his shoulder.
“So they are.” He lifted her palm and kissed the back of her hand. “I won’t be long.”
From under the shade of a tree, Rosalind watched in fascination as six men measured, stuck posts together, and dug holes for the gate. They worked together like a well-oiled machine, their shirts soaked through with sweat. Her dress hadn’t fared much better with the heat of the afternoon bearing down. Sweat trickled along her spine, and she wiped the moisture from her brow, then untied her bonnet and fanned herself.
Rosalind wondered how Lilly was managing since they’d been gone most of the morning and afternoon while Trent completed the fence. She hadn’t meant to stay so long, but she had no idea Trent planned to work. She had the feeling he’d forgotten she was there, until he turned and shot her a grin. She returned his smile, and her cheeks warmed even more. Could a man be any more handsome?
Blake and Pete walked toward Trent. Pete’s hands motioned as he spoke, then Blake nodded and the three men turned. Trent pointed to the west and, after a round of brow wiping, Blake and Pete headed to the other men, who were stacking supplies onto the back of a wagon.
Trent tugged at his shirt as he approached her. “The men are heading back to the house. I prefer you to go with them. I need to finish riding down the fence line.”
“Oh.” She wanted to go with him and didn’t care how sweat clung to him. She felt safe in his presence and had almost forgotten her argument earlier with her father or the thoughts of Glover. Almost. She scurried to her feet but said nothing. “I’ll go with them.”
Later, as the evening settled through the curtains in her room, Rosalind rocked in her chair, fighting the fears racing through her mind and heart. She tried to keep them at bay, but they seeped in. And when she closed her eyes, Glover was there, forcing her into submission. Hurting her. She couldn’t escape him.
A creak sounded in the hallway, and she stared at the door. Fear pricked her skin and pressed against her chest. Glover? No! She shook her head and bit her lip. It was Trent, she was sure of it. A door closed down the hall.
He wasn’t coming to her tonight? She closed her eyes, knowing she needed to be strong. Yes, strong. It was the only way to survive. But Trent’s words replayed through her mind. You need to rest in the knowledge God will be the strength you need.
“Rosalind.”
She opened her eyes to see Trent’s form in the doorway of the darkened room, a border of light traced around him. “You came.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” he said. She rose slowly from the rocking chair, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I thought you’d be asleep. Come, I’ll help you in bed.”
She didn’t move. Couldn’t move when all she wanted was him. “Hold me.” Her words came as weak as she felt. “Never let me go.”
He wrapped his arms around her and gently kissed her forehead. “Never.”
Rosalind breathed in the scent of bar soap mixed with the scent of musk. The combination was all man, all her husband. “Trent,” she whispered.
He kissed her temple and ran his fingers through the strands of her hair. “Is everything all right?”
She bit back her moan. How could she answer? Instead, she led him by the hand into his room. Their room. She stopped at the bed. “I ... I need you. To hold me. To love me.”
Trent cupped her cheek and kissed her so softly, so completely, she trembled. He pulled back the cover and helped her ready for bed, then slid in after her. The warmth from his body engulfed her, and tears filled her eyes. For the first time in her life, she felt truly safe. Safe within his arms, claimed by his touch, and made complete by her husband’s love.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Trent rode into Graham with one thing in mind—his wife and how he needed to speak with Blake about Rosalind’s father. Several wagons were hitched in front of the general store as Mrs. Vines swept the front of the doorway. Trent tipped his hat to her as he passed on the way to the sheriff’s office. “Good day, Mrs. Vines.”
“Good day, Trent.” She waved.
He entered the sheriff’s office, surprised to find Roger speaking with Blake. Roger’s gaze flicked to him, then back at Blake.
Trent stood by the door, arms crossed. “Why are you here?” He wasn’t going anywhere without answers.
“I ... um ... I wanted to know if Blake thought I should go back to see Rosalind today. Or if I should wait a bit longer.” Something mingled within the older man’s features. Fear, hurt, whatever it was caused Trent to relax his stance.
Blake stood from his office chair. “I think you should. Rosalind needs to know you’re a man of your word.”
Though Trent didn’t want Rosalind to be hurt by her father again, forgiveness was the only way both of them would heal. “I agree. But if you plan to hurt her in any way, I suggest you leave on the next train.”
Roger secured his hat on his head with two hands. “I don’t. Never again. I will make it up to her, to you.” He started for the door.
“Mr. Standford,” Blake called to him. “God will work it out.”
The older man nodded, then left, closing the door behind him.
“I guess you can expect him today.” Blake rounded the desk. “So what brings you here?”
“I wanted to know if Roger was still in town. I guess I have my answer.”
Blake snatched a note from the top of the desk. “They sent this telegram for you. I haven’t read it. It’s from your father. I was about to head to the ranch.”
Trent’s pulse quickened. He unfolded the telegram and began to r
ead.
Richards Williams Jones are missing Stop Be careful Stop T.E.
Trent strolled to the window and stared out absentmindedly. His father was warning him. The first name on the telegram was Glover Richards, but who were the others? His father said they were missing.
In his gut, he knew the answer.
The telegram Trent hid in his back pocket burned a hole in his heart. No matter how hard he tried, he was unsuccessful at pushing back thoughts of Glover and the questions plaguing him. Had Glover already arrived? How would he tell Rosalind what he knew?
And what did he know, he asked himself, as he lifted an old quilt from a trunk next to his bed and took it outside for Rosalind and Lilly’s picnic. He spread it on the ground, wanting to make their first picnic special. Martin came out with chicken stew and cornbread. Lilly followed with bowls and spoons, while Rosalind carried a pitcher of water and mugs. “I think we’re all set.”
Lilly plopped down on the red-and-white fabric and folded her legs beneath her blue cotton pinafore dress.
Rosalind touched his arm. “Sit so I can serve you.”
Trent pressed a kiss to her cheek. “No. I’ll serve.” He led her next to Lilly and observed how Rosalind smiled as she sank to the old quilt. He decided then that there was no reason to concern her until he found out more about his father’s telegram. With the decision made, he took the bowls Martin had scooped stew into and passed them out. When everyone had been served, he sat next to his wife.
Lilly took a bite of the cornbread Martin handed her and rewarded him with a grin. He patted her head like a grandfather would do, surprising Trent again by the changes he was witnessing in his cook. “Can we ride today?” she asked, her mouth full.
Trent chuckled at how excited the little girl was to ride. Maybe this was the distraction he needed. “I don’t see why not, but maybe we should say grace first.”
Lilly placed her bread in her bowl, lowered her head, and folded her small fingers together.
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