Montana Rose (11 page)

Chapter 21

“Rose, open the door. I know you’re in there. Listen, sister mine, I’ll stand here all day, but I
will
talk to you. I didn’t force you to open up yesterday, but I’m not letting you shut yourself inside that schoolhouse any longer.”

Quiet greeted Wisteria’s words, then slowly, inch by inch, the door opened. Wisteria swept through the narrow opening, marching past a silent Rose and the empty rows of desks. She stepped inside Rose’s private quarters and took a deep breath as the stark coldness hit her. It was dark, curtains pulled, and void of life. An overwhelming sense of emptiness hung in the air. There was no welcoming glow from the kitchen range, no merrily hissing teakettle. There was a sense of abandonment
,
as though no one lived here anymore. She looked past her sister at the large trunk resting at the foot of the bed.

“Going somewhere?”

“Yes,” Rose said softly, “but I’m not sure where.”

Wisteria felt a flush of anger. “They fired you, didn’t they?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I didn’t give them the satisfaction.” Rose’s eyes sparked fire. “I quit. I gave my notice yesterday. They have time before school starts back in January to find a replacement.”

“Good for you. I hope you gave them a piece of your mind.”

Rose grinned. “I think it’s safe to say I left them speechless.”

“Grab your bonnet, sis, let’s get out of here. And don’t tell me you don’t know where you’re going. I’m taking you home to my house. We’ll have Ben pick up your trunk.” She glanced around the room. “Looks like you’re all packed.”

“I am. But, Wisteria, I can’t impose on you and Ben.”

“You’re not imposing, Rose. We’re family.”

“And I love you for offering, but I told Mr. Whimpstutter I would remain here until the end of December. By then I hope to have found work somewhere. Work and a place to live,” she added with determination.

“Rose, I can’t let you stay here.” Wisteria swept her hand across the room. “It’s like a tomb. All the life is gone.”

“Because I let the fire go out. When I get it going again, some of the chill will leave. Don’t worry about me. You know I always land on my feet.”

“I know you’re also very stubborn.” Wisteria gave an exasperated sigh. “Please, Rose. Stay with us at least until you find something.”

Rose’s bark of laughter filled the room. “Be careful, little sister. That could take some time. But there will be something,” she said, the words forceful. “Something until I get my . . .” Rose swallowed.

“Until you get your ranch.” Wisteria’s voice rose in exasperation. “Are you ever going to give up that dream? Don’t you realize ranching isn’t possible for a woman alone? I’ll say it again
,
stop being stubborn.”

“I’m not being stubborn
—
”

A man’s voice cut off her sentence. “Sounds like stubbornness to me.”

Rose whirled around. Jesse Rivers’ wide shoulders filled the doorway. A scowl marred his handsome face. His narrowed gaze bored into hers and the silence grew. He gave a short nod at Wisteria, then tilted his chin toward the trunk. “That everything? I haven’t got all day.”

“I-I beg your pardon?” Rose backed up one step and crossed her arms defensively. “This is none of your business, Mr. Rivers.”

He gave a half shrug. “I’m making it my business.” His eyes were dark and fathomless as he met and held her gaze. They never left her face as he said in that same hard as flint voice, “Sorry, Mrs. McCabe, “but I’ll be taking Miss Bush to my ranch.”

Before Wisteria could utter one word, Rose flew across the room until she was toe to toe with the formidable man. “You’ll be taking me to your ranch?” she repeated, venom dripping of each word. “I don’t think so. Just who put you in charge of my life?”

“Somebody has to be in charge. You don’t seem to be.”

Rose lips narrowed into a fine line and the words hissed from her mouth. “Listen, Mr. High and Mighty Rivers, I’ve had a rough few days. Much more of your superior attitude, and I’ll forget I’m a lady. Now get out.”

“Rose,” Wisteria cautioned in a whisper.

Jesse had to bite back a smile. The little lady in front of him was a fighter, no doubt about it. Admiration filled him. Admiration and something else he refused to recognize.

He moved past Rose as if she wasn’t there and, bending over, hefted the trunk to his shoulder. “What’d you pack in here, part of the stove?” he grunted, moving with ease out the door.

“Mr. Rivers, you stop. You stop right now. Put that trunk down or I’ll . . .”

Calmly, ignoring the woman dogging him, Jesse reached the wagon and slid the trunk into the back. Then he turned, facing the fire-breathing Rose and an anxious Wisteria.

“I don’t have time to sugar-coat this, Miss Bush. Like I said inside, you’re coming to my ranch.”

Rose glared at him, hands on her hips. “And like I said inside, what I do or don’t do is none of your business. I’m
. . .
I’m going home with,” she gulped, “with Wisteria. Get my trunk out of your wagon. Now!”

Jesse looked past her at an ashen Wisteria, her mouth forming a startled O.

“I apologize, Mrs. McCabe. I have a horse ready to foal and chores waiting to be done. I tend to be a bit abrupt when I’m trying to do two things at once.”

“Hmmpf,” Rose snorted. “Abrupt, pushy, arrogant, obstinate, and hard of hearing.”

“I’m offering your sister a job,” Jesse said as if Rose hadn’t spoke at all.

“A job? You’re offering me a job?”

Jesse riveted his eyes on her. “Yes, I’m offering you a job. Why else would I want you on my ranch?”

“Why else indeed,” Rose snapped.

“Now get down off’n your high-horse and get in the wagon. Like I said, I don’t have all day.”

“Mr. Rivers. I’ll speak slowly so you’ll understand, I am not your problem. You do not need to invent a ‘job’ for poor pitiful me.”

Anger flashed in his eyes and he spoke through clenched teeth. “Damn it, Rose Bush, you make it hard to feel anything but an urge to turn you over my knee and teach you some manners.”

Wisteria giggled, drawing a withering look from Rose.

“No one would pity you,” Jesse said. “They’d pity the poor fool that had to put up with you.” He held up his hand, stopping the words threatening to jump from her mouth. “I need a housekeeper. Tory’s a growing boy and needs someone that can cook. Hell, I need someone that can cook. I’ve tasted your cake and that alone qualifies you for the job. I can’t spend my time caring for a house, cooking, and doing all the chores I plan to pile on you. It’s a job. A paying job.” He quoted a figure that made Rose’s eyes pop.

“You’ll pay me that much?” she asked, obviously in awe.

“You’ll earn every penny of it. In fact, after a few weeks, you’ll probably think I’m not paying enough.”

“Does that include room and board?”

“Yes.” For the first time Jesse allowed his lips to curl into a short smile. “Money talks, huh, Miss Bush?”

“It does,” she snapped. “How long do you plan to hire me as your housekeeper?”

“As long as you’ll stay, providing, that is, you can keep that fiery temper in check and your impudent mouth closed.”

“Can you?”

“Huh?”

“I said, ‘Can you?’ Can you keep your temper in check and your know-it-all attitude under control?”

“I don’t have a temper, and my attitude isn’t up for discussion.” He threw the words back at her. “But you could make a preacher cuss.”

Rose chose to ignore his protest. “I won’t promise beyond a year, maybe less. It all depends on how much money I can . . .”

“I know,” he said patronizingly, “how much you can save to buy another homestead. I couldn’t help overhearing, and I know you lost your last one. No reason you can’t save every penny I pay you. Unless”—an impish twinkle entered those hazel eyes—“you buy more of those ridiculous hats.”

“And that is something else that is none of your business, Mr. Rivers.” Rose took a deep breath. “Where will I live?”

“In the house with Tory and me. There’s four bedrooms, two unoccupied. You can have your pick. Sorry, I don’t have someplace else that would be adequate.”

“Fine.” Rose moved toward the wagon seat.

“Rose,” Wisteria put a hand on her sister’s arm. “Rose, what are you thinking? You can’t move in with a single man and a young boy. What will people think?”

“Wisteria, love, you know by now I don’t give a tinker’s damn what people think.”

Chapter 22

They were turning onto the lane leading to the Rocking R before Rose broke the silence.

“Mr. Rivers.”

“Miss Bush?”

“I would like to get settled in before we discuss what you consider my duties are, and what I agree they are.”

Jesse grinned. “You forgetting already that I’m the boss? Your ‘duties’ are what I ask you to do, nothing less.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. I’m your housekeeper, not your slave.”

“Yep, you’re my housekeeper all right. Although at this minute I’m wondering why I thought I needed one.”

Rose bristled. “Then my advice is to stop wondering and turn this wagon around.”

Jesse pulled the reins to a stop in front of the large ranch house. “Nope.”

“Nope?”

He turned to Rose. “Like I said, I need a housekeeper. Tory needs someone to provide him with decent meals. And,” he added as if an afterthought, “I hope you’ll continue to tutor him. I regret that’s part of what got you into this mess, but I don’t regret your taking the time and putting your teaching position at risk to help him.”

“So that’s it.”

Jesse frowned. “What’s it?”

“That’s the reason why you all of a sudden decided you needed a housekeeper. You’re offering me this trumped up job because you feel guilty. I’ll have you know I don’t need your charity.” Rose jumped down from the wagon seat, fluffed out her skirt, and setting her hat firmly on her head, proceeded to march back up the lane.

“Just a minute,” Jesse barked as he vaulted from the wagon and grabbed her arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Since you seem inclined to not turn the wagon back to town, I’m walking there. I’ll send someone for my trunk.” She tried to jerk away from his vise-like grip. “Let go of my arm, Mr. Rivers. This is the second time you’ve grabbed me. I won’t put up with being manhandled.”

Jesse dropped her arm as if it were a red-hot poker. “Sorry,” he said, shamefaced. “I
-
I wouldn’t hurt you, uh, manhandle you
,
or anyone, for that matter.” He shook his head and muttered, “Damn my temper.”

Perplexed, Rose furrowed her brow at his fervent apology.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t hurt me, Mr. Rivers. I know you wouldn’t.” She felt compelled to reassure the contrite man. Why was he overreacting? “Perhaps I spoke too quickly. Sometimes”—she smiled—“I, too, have a temper. That’s something we have in common. That, and the fact we seem to rub each other the wrong way. What about us calling a truce, going inside and discussing this ‘job’ calmly over
,
say, a cup of coffee? I don’t know about you, but so far, today has been a reason to crawl back in bed and pull the covers over your head.”

“That about sums it up.” He looked worriedly at her arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Absolutely. Now if you’ll direct me to your kitchen, I’ll perform my first duty as a housekeeper and make a pot of coffee. Have you had your noon meal yet?” Rose asked, fingering the chain holding her precious timepiece. She popped open the small cover. “Goodness, it’s two o’clock. Of course you have,” she said, answering her own question.

Jesse breathed a sigh of relief at Rose’s change of heart and shook his head. “Afraid not. Tory and I had a breakfast of sorts
.
He cooked,” Jesse added. “We, uh, we usually skip the noon meal and make it until dinner. Two meals a day of our cooking is about all we can handle.” He gave a shamefaced grin, deepening the dimple in his cheek.

Rose gulped. The man was too good looking for his own good, or hers either, as a matter of fact. Well, she wasn’t here to be lured in by Jesse Rivers’ handsome face. No. She had a job to do and money to save.

“That will stop as of today. Please carry my trunk to my room. Whichever one you choose is fine with me. And I’ll look over your kitchen. I’m assuming you have foodstuff necessary to make a meal? Where’s Tory? Let him know we will be having an early supper. Tomorrow we’ll have breakfast, and our main meal will be at noon, unless you’re unable to come to the house . . . and the reason had better be good,” she said under her breath. “Supper will be light. We’ll work out the times later. I’ll see you back in the kitchen for coffee. We can discuss my duties while I prepare an early supper. I can assure you, Mr. Rivers, it will be substantial. Tory will not be missing any more meals, nor will he be doing any more of the cooking.”

Jesse blinked twice, momentarily at a loss for words, or how to respond to Rose’s about-face and rapidly fired words, other than to open the door to the kitchen and wave her inside. The woman should have been a general in the army. She had a gift for giving orders and fully expecting them to be obeyed. And, surprisingly, there was no question he’d do just that. Oddly enough, there wasn’t an ounce of resentment or reluctance in him. He gave a sigh of relief as he went outside to the wagon. Rose Bush had arrived, and darned if it didn’t feel right.

Rose plunked the thick, white mug in front of Jesse and gave him a reproachful look. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Jesse Rivers. Your shelves are stocked better than the mercantile. I haven’t had time to look at your smokehouse or cellar, but I’d wager a guess they’re not meager.”

“I don’t deny that there’s plenty here to cook, Miss Bush, but you have to know how to prepare it. Just the same, Tory and I haven’t starved,” he said defensively, taking a sip of the perfectly brewed coffee. “Still, if you need something I don’t have, make a list and I’ll pick it up when I go to town, or better yet, you can take the wagon to town yourself. You do know how to drive a wagon, don’t you?”

Rose took the seat across from Jesse and eyed him through the steam rising from her mug. “I think you need to know something about me, Mr. Rivers.”

Jesse opened his mouth to object only to be quelled by the look on Rose’s face.

“I’m not a schoolmarm no matter that you call me Teacher Bush. I never pretended to be a teacher and did not hesitate to make it clear that the position was to be an end to a means.” She absently brushed back a golden strand of hair that had managed to escape from the knot at the nape of her neck. It curled winsomely around her face, coaxing out the blue in her eyes.

“I am a rancher. Pure and simple. I can handle any job thrown at me and do it as well as most men. I’m not bragging, simply stating a fact. I worked hard on my homestead and would have made it if the fever hadn’t wiped out my herd. I pride myself on my baking, but I’m also equally proud of my being able to ride, rope a steer, fix fence, calf, brand, and the myriad of other chores associated with ranching.”

So intent on her speech, Rose missed the twinkle that had appeared in Jesse’s eyes.

“And”—she took a deep breath—“I can milk a cow, feed chickens, plant a garden, and put up the bounty. I—”

“A cow? You had a milk cow on a ranch?”

“Of course I did. I had pigs and chickens, too. Ranching isn’t exclusive to beef and horses, Mr. Rivers. I provided for myself any way I could. But what you don’t know is how much I loved it. All of it
,
even the long hours and the back-breaking work.”

“Seems like I’m always apologizing to you, Miss Bush. I’ve underestimated you.” He smiled. “You look delicate, but to think that would be a grave misunderstanding. I’m sure I’m not the first person to make that mistake. You look like you belong in a rich man’s house with servants to do your bidding.”

“I’d hate it,” she said forcefully. Then she smiled back at him as she took another sip of coffee. “I’ll take that as a compliment, though. But please don’t assume I can’t do anything pertaining to ranching. I know Wisteria thinks I’m crazy, but I plan on having my own place again. This time I’ll be more prepared.”

“I don’t mean to disagree with you, but ranching is filled with surprises. You can’t be prepared for everything.” Jesse got to his feet, surprised at how easy it had been to forget his waiting chores and visit with this captivating woman over a cup of coffee. He’d have to be careful or it would become a habit.

“I’ll see you later at supper.” He put his hat on his head, grabbed his coat and headed out the door. “I’m running behind so I guess that talk’ll wait.”

“Give me a couple hours, Mr. Rivers,” Rose called after him.

“Ring the bell on the porch. That’s how Emma called us in.”