Montana Rose (13 page)

Chapter 25

“There,” Rose said, laying the last piece of wood in anticipation of tonight’s fire. She surveyed the living room, a smile of satisfaction etched on her face. It was everything she’d hoped for and more.

She’d ordered Jesse and Tory to bed after they’d carried the last chair from the attic. She assured them she was going to bed herself and would finish the room tomorrow. But she didn’t. The beautiful grandfather clock, formerly residing dusty and unappreciated in the hall, had struck the half hour after twelve when she’d finally pulled herself up the stairs. She had coerced Jesse and Tory into moving it into the room where it would become an integral, living, presence. Her first thought this morning, before her coffee, before daybreak, had been to creep down the stairs and gaze lovingly at the changed room.

Beeswax and highly polished wood greeted her
.
All musty odors of disuse were banished, chased away by her dust cloth and broom. The carpet’s rich tones reflected on the waxed and polished oak floor. Comfortable sofa and chairs strategically faced the fireplace, calling out a welcome to a weary man, inviting him to let their buttery leather wrap around him. The matching footstool, a beckoning place for feet that had traveled miles since sunup. The flames in the fireplace would lick hungrily at the wood, sending out heat and a rich wood smell.

Rose was glad she’d shooed Jesse and Tory to bed without seeing the completed project. Tonight, they would see it in all its glory. And in the future, she’d serve cups of hot chocolate and thick slices of chocolate cake right here before the fire. Then she’d pick up the basket of mending sitting beside the smaller chair, put her feet up on the crewel embroidered footstool, lean her head back on the chair’s pillowy softness and send a silent thanks to Tory’s mother for the gift she’d unknowingly given them.

She caught herself. Daydreaming,
that’s
what she was doing. Building castles in the air. Painting pictures of a family
,
a wife, a husband, and a special boy. Well, she wasn’t a wife by any stretch of her imagination. And Jesse Rivers, sure as coffee is black, wasn’t a husband. With thoughts of coffee, she whirled from the room, softly sliding the door shut behind her.

For heaven’s sake, Rose. You’re getting maudlin as an old maid. You are the housekeeper. The paid help. And you don’t want it any other way.”
But a small voice in her head asked, “Don’t you?”

Hurrying to the kitchen, she began the morning routine of rattling the grates, making coffee, rushing to the smokehouse for ham, and slicing up her last loaf of bread.

“I’ll have to add baking bread to the list today. I never saw two men eat like these two.” She’d found jars of Emma’s jelly in the root cellar and vowed to replenish the jars with jam of her own. “If you are still here, Rose,” she admonished.

“If you are still here? What do you mean? Leaving already?”

“Jesse Rivers, I wish you would stop sneaking up on me. It’s a nasty habit.”

“Not my fault you got caught blabbing to yourself.” He grinned at her discomfort and reached for the coffee pot.

“It’s not ready yet.”

“Huh?”

“I
,
uh, got a late start.”

“Slept in? Abusing my good nature, Miss Bush?”

“I did not sleep in,” Rose denied hotly. “And we won’t discuss your so called good nature. I was busy elsewhere.”

Jesse’s eyebrows rose in question.

“It’s none of your concern, Mr. Rivers. The coffee has been delayed only moments.”

Jesse debated on prodding her more just to see the sparks fly from those blue eyes. The sound of coffee perking against the black lid of the coffee pot stopped him. Wrapping a towel around his hand, he pulled the pot to the back of the stove and wondered if there was any better smell than fresh-brewed coffee on a winter morning, or any morning. Hell, anytime. Then he remembered how good Rose’s chocolate cake smelled, and her warm bread just out of the oven, and— he swallowed hard—how good Rose smelled. She carried with her the scent of lilacs, woman, and more times than not, the fresh outdoors.

He shook the thoughts from his mind and poured two cups. “Tory still sacked out?”

Rose nodded. “I think moving all that furniture wore him out.” She cracked three eggs into the frying pan, waited a few minutes, then expertly flipped them over, cooking the yolk to a softness Jesse liked. The fact that she already knew many of this man’s likes and dislikes escaped her.

“Eggs?”

“Mrs. Watson. As you are well aware, we are dependent on neighbors for eggs and milk.”

“You just don’t give up, do you, Miss Bush?” he said, taking a big bite of fried egg.

“Not when I’m right.”

Jesse bent over the hearty breakfast and concentrated on chewing, swallowing, and ignoring her.

Rose, sensing that her plug for the cow and chickens had hit a sore spot, sat down across from him.

“Mr. Rivers.”

“Jesse.”

“What?”

“Jesse. My name is Jesse.”

“And if memory serves me, it’s also Mr. Rivers.”

Jesse rolled his eyes in defeat and, pushing his empty plate aside, started to rise.

“Please stay seated. There is something I need to discuss with you.”

“Can’t it wait? I’ve got a full—”

“No,” she interrupted. “It can’t. It’s about Tory.”

Jesse sat back down and gave her his full attention as a worried frown crossed his face.

“What’s the matter with Tory? Is he sick? He was okay last night.”

“Nothing’s the matter with him.” Hesitantly, she took a deep breath. “It’s about Christmas.”

“Christmas,” he spat the word out. “Damn it, Miss Bush, you had me thinking something was wrong.”

“Well, it will be if you don’t get him something to go under the tree you two are going to cut later this afternoon.”

“Tree?”

“Mr. Rivers, you’re beginning to sound like an echo. Yes, tree.” Her voice grew softer. “Tonight is Christmas Eve. And, it follows that the next day is Christmas. And we”
—
she fixed him a hard look
—
“we will be celebrating with a nice dinner, gifts, and a decorated tree. You do have decorations, don’t you?”

“How in the hel
—
Heck would I know?” He uttered the words, then had to drag his eyes away from her pursed lips. Her full, very kissable, pursed lips. Angry at his rebellious thoughts, he snapped out, “I have a ranch to run, and worrying about decorations, or a tree to stick them on, isn’t on my to-do list.”

“Well, it had better be.” Rose glowered. “Tory deserves a Christmas and you, his loving brother,” she snapped, “are darn well going to provide it for him. I would suggest you take time from ‘running the ranch’ and make a trip into town for a few store-bought decorations, and a present.”

“Present?”

“There’s that echo again. Yes, present. We’ll decorate the tree tonight. He’ll open his presents tomorrow, Christmas morning.” Rose rushed on, not giving Jesse time to interrupt. “And, in the afternoon, we’ll go to Wisteria and Ben’s for Christmas dinner. Wisteria sent word we’re expected. Jarrett and his family will be there, too. That is what families do, and by golly, Mr. Rivers, that is what we’ll do. Tory deserves it, and we are going to see he has what he deserves. So, big brother, you’d better get right on those chores. You need to take Tory with you, both for the tree and the trip to town. I’ll be busy all day baking.”

Jesse couldn’t keep the surprise from his face. The whirlwind had swept through his life again. He stumbled to his feet, grabbed his coat and hat, and firmly shut the door behind him.

Rose grinned. “That went well.” She bit into a piece of perfectly browned oven toast and washed the bite and the surge of satisfaction down with a swig of coffee.

The Rocking R would have Christmas, or else.

Chapter 26

The house was quiet, and it seemed to Rose as if it were holding its breath, waiting for the spirit of Christmas.

She hummed as she popped the layers of a chocolate cake on a rack to cool. It was wonderful to have the big house and homey kitchen to herself. And if she gave in to letting her mind play the ‘what if’ game, it would be easy to envision the Rocking R as hers. That was nothing but foolishness. She wasn’t a young woman with time for daydreaming. She’d been dealt her role in life, and it was up to her to make the best of this hand.

Jesse had grumbled about having to stop his work and go into town. But when Tory asked him why they were going, a tender look came over his face, and his voice cracked with emotion. He told him there were important things needing done and some of them were secret.

The word ‘secret’ lit a fire in Tory’s inquisitive nature and the questions flowed. Jesse adroitly sidestepped them, and with a saucy wink at Rose, herded Tory out the door.

Rose was turning the handle of the flour sifter when a jingle of harness reins and a muffled, “Whoa” sent her to the front door, dusting her hands across her apron.

Mixed emotions raced through her, regret that her alone time was invaded, and delight in having a visitor. Since her move to the Rocking R, she hadn’t seen or talked to anyone but Tory and Jesse. And most of her conversation with Jesse only bordered on talking, more often a verbal battle of wills.

She opened the door and, shading her eyes from the winter sun, gave a whoop of joy.

“Wisteria. What on earth?” Rose ran down the steps. “I didn’t expect you. Is something wrong? Why are you here? Of course I’m glad to see you, but . . .”

“Slow down,” Wisteria giggled, tying the reins around the buggy’s brake handle. “I can only answer one question at a time.”

Rose grabbed her sister, gave her a hug, and peered into the buggy. “Where’s Robin? Oh, silly question
,
with Ben.”

“Nowhere else, although I have to tell you she was mightily torn. She wanted to come see Aunt Rose, but when Ben started out on his rounds, she quickly changed her mind.”

“I’m not at all surprised. Disappointed but not surprised. Now, get to answering my questions.”

“I don’t get invited inside?”

“Not until you answer the main one. Is everything okay?”

“Yes. All is well in the McCabe household. There is no emergency. I simply wanted to see my sister. The sun may be shining, but the little bit of a wind is cool. Can we please go inside? I can’t believe this is winter in Montana and not a drop of snow on the ground, although Ben says that will change any day now.”

Rose shepherded Wisteria into the warm kitchen. “I was enjoying the peaceful day, and a visit from you is like icing on a cake. Put your coat over there by the range so it will be warm when you leave. We’ll have a cup of coffee and you can fill me in on everything.”

“Mmmm, something smells good,” Wisteria cried. Then she spied the cooling cakes. “You’re doing your Christmas baking, I’ll bet.”

Rose laughed. “And you’d be right. Jesse and Tory haven’t had a real Christmas for far too long. This year, if I have anything to say about it, they will.”

Wisteria bent her head, hiding the knowing twinkle in her eye. “So it’s Jesse now, is it?”

“What? No, of course not,” Rose stammered, flustered. “It’s Mr. Rivers. Did I say Jesse?”

“Mmm, hmm.” Wisteria smirked. “You did, and with some feeling, I might add.”

Rose pulled herself up straight, coffee pot poised over Wisteria’s cup. “The only feeling you might be sensing is for Tory.”

“I met the two of them on my way here. Jesse said they were headed to town for some Christmas shopping. Ordered there by the housekeeper. The bossy housekeeper.”

A tic formed at the corner of one of Rose’s eyes. “He said that. Bossy housekeeper?”

“He did,” Wisteria replied, not needing to ask who the ‘he’ was. She was enjoying this, and was ashamed to admit how delightful it was to see the unflappable Rose squirm.

Rose’s lips narrowed. “Well, if I wasn’t bossy, Jesse Rivers would ride roughshod over me like I was some . . . some hired hand.”

“You
are
a hired hand.” Wisteria laughed. “Oh, Rose, give it up. Admit it, Jesse has you . . .”

“Don’t you say it, Wisteria McCabe,” Rose warned. “I am the housekeeper here. Nothing more. And I certainly don’t want it to be anything more.”

“If you say so.” At a frown from Rose, she sat down and said, “Now, tell me what you’ve got planned for Christmas at the Rivers’ house, and what the two of us are going to bake today. And then I’m going to talk nonstop about Ben, Robin, and Christmas in our new home.”

The love beaming from Wisteria’s face as she spoke Ben and Robin’s names sent feelings of envy surging through Rose. And for the first time, heavy foreboding filled her. A dark possibility that even when she had her own home, her own ranch, there would be an empty spot
,
a lonely hollow waiting for something she refused to acknowledge.

“If we’re going to town, then why are we turning off here?” Tory nodded toward the lane leading to the Watson’s ranch. “I just got eggs and milk yesterday.”

Jesse couldn’t hide the grin from his face. “Christmas is tomorrow.”

Tory shrugged. “So?” Christmas had never been a part of his life. He knew today was Christmas Eve, sure, but so what? His mother had given up trying to celebrate in their home after being confronted with his father’s threats and scathing comments. He vowed that no such foolishness would take place on the Rocking R. Not on his ranch, not ever.

“Miss Bush is determined we’ll have Christmas this year. You and I have been ordered to town to buy gifts and decorations for the tree we’re going to cut on the way home.”

A look of wonder swept across Tory’s face. “A tree? We’re going to cut a tree?”

Jesse nodded, unable to hide his foolish grin.

“Presents?”

“Yep.”

Tory sat back in his seat.

“You don’t like the idea?” Jesse probed, puzzled by Tory’s reaction.

Tory shrugged. “Can’t remember having Christmas.” He turned to Jesse. “I don’t know what to do
,
I mean. Darn it, Jesse, it was just another day of work, and if I got any present, it was maybe the hope that I wouldn’t make Dad mad, and he wouldn’t be handing out punishment for once.”

A haunted sadness flickered in Jesse’s eyes. He felt his chest tighten. “I’m so sorry, Tory. It was the same for me.” He was at a loss for words and remorse filled him at not being there for his brother.

“Tell you what, we’ll just follow Miss Bush’s lead. I’ve only experienced Christmas once and that was so long ago, I don’t much know what to do either. One of my fellow ranch hands invited me home with him once, and that was the first time I saw how other people celebrated that special day. It can be wonderful, Tory.” Jesse heard the longing in his voice. “Now, what do you think about our saying to hell with all those past, bleak Christmases? Let’s make this one so darned good it’ll make up for ones missed
,
starting with this stop at the Watson’s.”

Tory nodded, pleased to share these feelings and promises with his brother. “Sure, why not? Peers to me we have nothing to lose.”

“You may change your mind about that, little brother, when you see what Christmas present I’ve got in mind for bossy Miss Bush.”