Sixty Acres and a Bride (12 page)

What about my skirt?
But she couldn’t say that.

He scooted his chair out and rose to his feet. “There’re plenty of good folks around here. You can’t let one blackguard ruin your evening.” Rosa followed him through the parlor. “But I did bring you some good news. I guess Mrs. Garner would tell you, but I’d rather you hear it from me.

“You’re invited to our house for the Fourth of July. We’ll have fireworks and the Prairie Lea parade. It’ll be stupendous. And the best part . . . you’ll have Nick to show you the town.”

Coming through the opposite doorway at the same moment, Louise drew up short.

“Oh, Nicholas, you didn’t know . . . we’ve made other plans for Rosa. She isn’t going to Prairie Lea.”

“Not going? And why not? It’d be just the thing for her.”

Rosa ducked her head so they wouldn’t see the disappointment on her face. She pinched some dead leaves off the potted African violet and a few that weren’t quite dead yet.

“Mary wants Rosa to come to their place. Weston won’t let the hands leave the ranch for the festivities, so they’re going to cook up something for them. Barbecue, music, and some fireworks, I think. Anyway, she asked if Rosa could come help her and Eliza get it all together. They need her help.”

“But you’re coming with us?” Nicholas asked.

Louise never stammered. True, she said things she shouldn’t, but words usually flowed effortlessly out of her mouth. Not this time.

“I’m coming to Prairie Lea . . . your mother has offered me a room overnight . . . but I may not accompany you during the day.” She caught a stray tendril and wrapped it around her finger in the gesture of a woman twenty years her junior.

“Why? What is it, Louise?” Rosa could be more direct than Nicholas, who shared the same skeptical look she had.

Louise swung both hands in the air before dropping them at her side. Rosa fully expected her to flounce off and stomp to her room, but she kept a loose grip on her maturity.

“Mr. Bradford asked if I would allow him to accompany me to the parade and picnic. I accepted. There. Eli has been dead for nearly a year, and Mr. Bradford is an old friend. Make of it what you will.”

Nicholas’s substantial jaw dropped. Rosa covered her mouth with her hand.

“What? I’m only stepping out with him. It’s not a grand occasion.”

But was it? Until now it seemed Louise had wanted to recover the life she’d lost, not create a new future. She’d returned to the same house and surrounded herself with her old friends. Surely she didn’t think she could remarry and forget all that had happened in Mexico? No, it had to be just a friendly visit. Louise probably lacked male companionship, and Mr. Bradford was an old friend. Nothing to worry about. They hadn’t courted when they were young. Why would they now?

“So you’d go out with your fellow and leave Rosa behind to do the work?” Nicholas asked.

Louise’s eyebrows disappeared under her bangs. “Excuse me, young man? Mr. Bradford is not my fellow. Besides, Rosa will have more fun at Mary’s than she would in town, where she’d have to sit on the sidelines in her black dress and watch the parade go by. At the ranch she can play with the kids, visit with Mary and Eliza, and play her flute.” Nicholas’s eyes grew wide when Louise whispered, “Don’t forget your dancing clothes. I remember how much you liked to kick up your heels in the mountains.”

Rosa sparkled. Music, food, and dancing? Why hadn’t she said so? Independence Day, indeed.

R
OSA’S STOMACH HURT—
not from the delicious barbecue but from laughing so hard at the antics of the young men who, finding such an appreciative audience, tried to outdo one another in either wit or wildness.

Seated at a long table littered with greasy bones, the men grew louder and louder to draw the attention of the ladies’ table.

“Now what are they doing?” Aunt Mary guffawed as Eliza gave her an account of the goings-on behind her back.

“Looks like Bailey’s trying to catch a biscuit in his mouth. Willie is throwing it, and . . . oh my! They’ve picked the dreadful thing up off the ground three times and are still trying.”

Even Eliza’s cook disapproved. Octavia shook her head and burrowed her creased brow further. “Don’t those fools realize we’re in a barnyard?”

“Obviously they don’t care.” Eliza hid her face behind her hands. “I can’t watch or I’m going to get sick.”

Mary looked to her husband for help. He was none. George, Weston, and Jake were daring, double daring, and double-dog daring the hapless cowboys to even greater indignities.

“They claim they don’t want them to leave the ranch because they’ll get into trouble in town, but I think they like to keep them here for sport. George spends all year concocting foolishness to lead them into.”

Eliza fanned herself. “I don’t think they take much convincing. I’m just glad Jake is finally content to be a spectator and not a participant. Last year he scared the daylights out of me when he jumped off the roof into the trough. He made it, but barely.”

“Are you talking about me?” Jake sauntered to their table. “I know you are, because I’m all you can think about.”

Eliza rolled her eyes and elbowed Rosa. “You caught me, Jake England. I was just telling Rosa here what a fine-looking, mature, and responsible man you are. At least this year.”

“That’s what I figured.” He laced his thumbs behind his suspenders and stretched them away from his chest. “The boys sent me over to tell y’all that we’re going to run some foot races and wondered if you’d like to help.”

Now, that sounded like fun. Rosa tightened her hair ribbon before answering. “I’d love to. I just ate, but I don’t think it’ll slow me down.”

“You want to run?”

Why did he look at her that way? He’d just invited her to race.

“Absolutely!” She stood and surveyed the landscape. “How far were you thinking of running?”

Eliza spewed her drink across the yard. “Rosa! Are you serious?”

In a heartbeat their audience grew by half a dozen interested cowboys. Oh no. What had she done now?

“What’s this?” Weston looked from Rosa to his sister, who was having trouble sitting up straight.

“Rosa wants to race the cowboys,” she gasped.

“Not just the cowboys. I thought everyone was going to run.”

Aunt Mary put her hand to her incredibly solid hip. “You thought we were going to run?”

Rosa looked around the table. Stout Aunt Mary had probably never run a step in her life. Dour Octavia wasn’t going anywhere fast. That left only Eliza, the most likely candidate, if it weren’t for her expanding belly.

“There isn’t a race for the ladies?” Rosa dropped to the bench. She hoped Louise didn’t hear about this.

“Sure there is.” Bailey propelled Rico to the front. “You can race him.” Willie and Red pantomimed a race, complete with flailing arms and mincing steps.

“Don’t let them tease you, señorita.” Rico dusted off his sleeves in a show of dignity. “If there was a race, you would win because we would all be chasing you.”

Weston cuffed him on the head. “I apologize for their behavior, Mrs. Garner. They forget how to act around ladies.”

“Maybe we’ve never been around a lady like her.” Bailey was trying to help, but Rosa didn’t miss the stern look his mother shot him. Anyone could identify the differences between her and the other ladies of Prairie Lea. The challenge was finding things they held in common.

“Y’all say you’re going to race, but all I hear is running off at the mouth.” Wes gathered the ruffians around. “First one to the north pasture chute and back wins a gold dollar. Take off.”

A clamor ensued as they jostled around the tables, through the gate, and across the pasture, leaving the remaining celebrants choking in their dust. Rosa fanned away the thick air. She’d managed to keep her white blouse clean through the dripping, saucy supper. No use getting it dingy now.

“Let’s get this mess cleaned up.” Aunt Mary got to her feet and reached for the dishes. “They’ll want music when they get back.”

George and Jake lifted the long plank to dismantle the makeshift table, giving Rosa little time to clear it. The hastily gathered dishes teetered precariously in her arms.

Weston came to her rescue. Taking the mugs from the stack of plates, he fell into step with her.

“You were really going to run?”

The question sounded nonjudgmental, but she knew a man like him had an opinion. Well, she could only tell the truth. She nodded.

“Did the women race at home?”

The way he said
home
warmed her. She was happy here, but rarely did anyone acknowledge that she, too, had a home—a place where she was special, where she was normal and did everything correctly and properly. Well, maybe distance and time had clouded her memory. Even at home she was considered unconventional.

“Not really, but I liked to.”

He pulled the gate open with his boot and held it open with his leg until she cleared the passage.

“Not much chance for a lady to run around here, I reckon.”

“Or climb, or throw, or kick . . .” She sighed.

He whistled. “What exactly did you do in Mexico? Rodeo?”

She shot him a sideways glance to see if she should continue. “Not rodeo, although I had to deal with goats from time to time. I also climbed the mango trees with the best of them. Everyone wanted my help during harvest. Sometimes for fun we would hang a clay pot in a tree and hit it with a stick.”

“Piñatas?
”

She beamed at him. “
Sí
, señor, piñatas, but you all work so hard. Everyone is too tired to have fun.” She saw the cowboys, now on their last leg of the race, coming around the grove. “Almost everyone.”

The hapless young men sprinted through the yard, red-faced and dripping in sweat. She cheered and clapped with Eliza and Aunt Mary and congratulated Willie for his first-place performance.

Weston held the gold piece between finger and thumb and dropped it into his palm. “Having y’all tuckered out is worth a dollar.”

Willie knotted the coin in his bandanna and stuffed it into his pocket. “We ain’t tuckered out. We’re just getting started.”

“Time for us to call it a night.” Eliza could barely get the words out before a yawn interrupted her.

Bailey’s guitar stopped mid-melody. The last notes floated up to the owls in the eaves of the barn. “You can’t go. Most of the feed is out of the way. Give the guys another minute, and then we’ll dance.”

Rosa lowered her flute to her lap. Accompanying Rico and Bailey was fun, but couldn’t compete with dancing. They couldn’t turn in this early.

“You think I’m going to dance?” Eliza laughed at her cousin. “That’s not possible, but I’ll leave Rosa in my place.”

“Rosa’s staying? All right, then.” Bailey resumed the music.

Eliza’s nose curled up. “Good heavens, Bailey! I regret breaking your heart, but it appears your recovery is well underway.” She turned to Rosa. “And you’re laughing.”

“Yes. You’re funny and I’m having a good time. Louise told the truth. This is more fun than a parade and fireworks could ever be.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. After all the work you do on that ranch, you deserve a holiday.” She patted Rosa’s shoulder and made her way out of the barn.

Rosa joined the song already in progress. For the first hour of their improvised concert Rico and Bailey had performed the repertoire of tunes they’d practiced on the trail. Rico played the violin and Bailey alternated between his banjo and guitar, occasionally prompting some rowdy cowboy to dance a jig in appreciation. Rosa skillfully joined in with her flute, familiar with some of Rico’s song choices, but able to improvise harmony when she wasn’t.

It was getting late, but no one else left, and that suited Rosa just fine. She’d brought her carpetbag to Mary’s, which meant she could dance and sing until the sun came up, or for as long as these gringos could keep up with her. She would play until she was out of breath. She would play until her fingers had to be pried off her flute. She would play until there was an opportunity to do something she loved even better.

The song ended with an enthusiastic “yee-haw” from the men. When the hoots and whistles quieted down, Rico stood on a hay bale and hollered for attention.

“Now, for a special treat, I invite Mrs. Garner to join me in
la mariposa.
”

Her heart leapt when she heard the name. But could they do it? “Rico, no one dances la mariposa here. Besides, I don’t think we have enough dancers to pull it off.”

“But of course we do. They don’t even have to move. We can make it simple for the
hombres.
” He nodded to Bailey. “You play that mariachi song I taught you in Waco. That will be perfect.”

“I don’t know about this.” She hadn’t been to any dances in Texas and didn’t know what they expected. None of the other women had danced that evening.

Weston came into view. He leaned against a post, watching the proceedings with interest. Surely he wouldn’t mind. These cowboys could get rough, but as long as he and Aunt Mary were present, she was chaperoned.

Mary confirmed her judgment. “Honey, you need to dance. You’ve been sitting here playing for these cowboys for hours. You’re going to explode if you don’t get out there.”

Rosa couldn’t suppress the broad smile. Excitement filled her as she set her flute down and laid her shawl aside.

Rico took the stage, the barn floor really, and announced with a hand to his heart, “This is the butterfly dance, danced by señoritas throughout Mexico to reveal the one whose heart beats with love for them.”

Not to be outdone, Bailey called out, “We all love Mrs. Garner. How will this show her anything?”

“If you don’t know, then we won’t tell you.” Rico flashed a conspiratorial smile at Rosa. “Now, all our cowboys need to do is to stand still. Clap with the music, offer your hand to the lady if you will, but don’t move. La mariposa, or butterfly, will inspect each flower and decide which it is that offers her the sweetest promise of a future.”

Willie objected. “You didn’t say anything about us being flowers. Besides, after winning that gold dollar I’d hate to win the girl, too.”

Uncle George spoke up. “No one’s going to confuse you boys with flowers. Not the way you smell.”

“But the butterfly has ways of seeing through all the grime and reading their hearts.”

“Oh, Rico,” Rosa laughed. “Stop it. You’re going to scare them. It’s just a dance.”

“Just a dance?! Where’s your sense of tradition? What have these Americans done to you? Have they drained your warm Mexicana blood from your veins?” He tapped his chin with his index finger. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this. Are you sure you can do la mariposa justice?”

How dare he challenge her! She marched to the center of the barn, hands on her hips, and turned quickly enough to make her skirts flare up. With lifted chin, she looked down her nose at the young man and clicked her heels together loudly. “I can dance.” And would prove it.

“
Bueno!
Let’s see . . . Willie, you stand there, Red, directly opposite. All the hombres face the middle of the square. I’ll take the other side, and we need one more.” He looked at Bailey but shook his head. “No, you must supply our music. Is there any other bachelor that could win the hand of the señorita?”

Rosa scanned the barn. Everyone left was married. George could step in. Mary wouldn’t mind. She was about to ask when she heard Rico call out to Weston.

“Mr. Garner! I forgot you were here. Would you be a gentleman and stand up for the lady?”

“It seems the lady already has plenty of men.” Weston didn’t budge.

Rosa’s mouth grew dry. She searched his face looking for a sign that she should stop, but it was indecipherable. Finally he stepped forward. “But I reckon if the lady wants four partners, she should get four partners.” He took his place while his employees cheered their approval.

It couldn’t be that bad. Willie and Red weren’t known for their dancing. Maybe Weston would teach these yahoos a thing or two. Besides, after their race they’d carried their own stink into the barn. Pleased with himself, he watched her prepare for the first steps and, when she wasn’t looking, leaned his nose down to his shoulder to catch the crisp scent of his soap. Yep, still smelled fresh. He might be older than his cowboys, but he was wiser.

Bailey jumped right into the music. He plucked a few notes of the melody, and then the pulsating beat of the dance took hold. Rosa didn’t hesitate. First she marched a wide circle around the four men, holding her red skirt in her hand, arm extended, slowly fanning the audience as she passed by, then she cut between her partners in an intricate figure eight, sashaying around first one, then another, her feet sounding out a staccato rhythm as she passed.