Читать книгу Big Sky Homecoming - Linda Ford - Страница 12

Chapter Four

Rose stood in the middle of the kitchen, her hand pressed to her throat. What was there about this place, this situation, about Duke, that unraveled her thoughts until she could hardly remember who she was?

She went to the stove and lifted the kettle. It was full of water. A cup of tea would set her to rights. She pushed wood into the stove and stirred up the fire. While she waited for the kettle to boil, she searched for tea. Every cupboard she opened increased the tightness in her head. Would she be accused of snooping? But Mrs. Caldwell was away, so she wouldn’t know. Still, Rose’s sense of intrusion increased.

As did her growing awareness of the vast difference between her as a Bell and Duke, a Caldwell.

She found a canister of tea and a fine china teapot and closed the cupboards firmly and with a sigh of relief.

She warmed the pot, then measured out a handful of tea leaves and added the boiling water.

A good look around the kitchen gave her cause to think that Duke didn’t cook for himself. The place was far too tidy. Did Billy cook for them? Did a housekeeper come in and prepare meals? Or did they go over to the long building down near the barn she took for the cookhouse?

Duke would never make it that far in his present condition.

She poured tea into three matching teacups, put them on a serving tray and carried it to the other room.

Billy jumped up as she entered the room. “I’d of helped if you called.”

“Thank you, Billy, but I managed fine.” She set the tray on the nearest table. “I thought tea might hit the spot.”

Duke pushed himself upright, grimacing.

She hurried to his side. “Lie back.”

“Can’t drink tea lying down.”

She could practically hear his teeth creak from the way he clenched them.

He swung his feet to the floor and gave her a lopsided grin. “I’m fine. Really.”

She stood in front of him, her hands planted on her hips. “About as fine as snow in July.” It was on the tip of her tongue to say being a Caldwell didn’t make him impervious, but the pain and determination in his face made her hold back her words. Instead she almost commended him for the strength he showed.

He lifted his face to her. “I believe I’ll have that tea now. Thank you.” His crooked smile made her grin.

“Yes, sir.” She carried a cup to him and hovered close as he took it. The tea sloshed so wildly, she caught his hands to steady them.

His eyes bored into hers.

A part of herself broke free and seemed to float above her as she looked into his eyes and held his hands. If only...

“You must find it hard to do this.”

“Do what?” His voice settled her wandering mind.

“Coddle me.”

“Am I doing that?” Her words came out soft and sweet, from a place within her she normally saved for family. “Seems to me all I’m doing is helping a neighbor in need.”

“It’s nice we can now be friendly neighbors.”

This was not the time to point out that friendly neighbors did not open gates and let animals out.

Duke lowered his gaze, freeing her from its silent hold. He sipped the tea. “You’re right. This is just what I needed. I’m feeling better already.” He indicated he wanted to put the cup and saucer on the stool at his knees. “I haven’t thanked you for rescuing me. Thank you.” He smiled.

She noticed his eyes looked clearer. He was feeling better. The tea had been a good idea.

“You’re welcome.” She could barely pull away from his gaze. Why did he have this power over her? It had to be the brightness of those blue eyes...

What was she doing? She had to stop this. Resolved to not be trapped by his look, she pulled her gaze away and managed to gather her wits about her. “Do you have a housekeeper coming in to make your meals?”

When he didn’t answer right away, she clarified, “I ask because if you’ve been taking your meals at the cookhouse, I don’t think you’ll make it tonight.”

Billy answered. “The cowboys eat at the cookhouse.” His voice lowered. “They stare at me.”

That didn’t exactly answer her question. What were they doing for meals?

Billy brightened. “I like it best when we go away and have a campfire. Duke knows how to cook lots of things over the fire.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Is that a fact?”

“Yup. He showed me how to do biscuits on a stick.”

Duke leaned his head back on the sofa. “Don’t look so surprised, Rose. I’m a lot handier than you think.”

She forced her expression into blandness when she looked at him. “I doubt you know what I think.”

“I’m guessing you think I’m a useless, spoiled rich kid.”

“Hmm.” Let him believe that. Far better than knowing the truth that she wished she could go camping with them to see him make biscuits on a stick.

His mouth tightened. He closed his eyes as if to hide his hurt from her.

She’d rubbed some ointment on the edges of the wound that should relieve some of the pain, but remnants always crept through. “You should take it easy.”

“What do you call what I’m doing?” His words were lazy but she didn’t miss the edge of pain.

She made up her mind. “There’s no way you are going to make it to the cookhouse. Nor are you in any shape to be cooking over a campfire. If you’ll allow me, I’ll prepare a meal for you.”

That brought his eyes open in a hurry.

“If you don’t object to me doing so,” she added.

“Object? I’d be forever grateful.”

Billy grinned from ear to ear. “Can we eat in the kitchen?” He slanted a look at Duke. “I kind of don’t like the dining room.”

Duke chuckled softly. “I’d enjoy eating in the kitchen, myself.”

“Then it’s decided.” Rose gathered up the teacups and tray and marched back to the kitchen to stare around. She didn’t know where anything was, or what sort of staples a place like this would have, but from peeking in the few cupboards she’d opened looking for the tea, she guessed anything she needed would be available. She’d make something simple that would be easy for Duke to eat.

Ma’s potato soup could never go wrong and Billy’s story of biscuits on a stick helped her decide on biscuits to accompany it.

She found a bin full of potatoes and was removing some when Duke, leaning on Billy’s shoulder, came into the room. She straightened and favored the man with a scolding look. “What happened to the part about taking it easy?”

He pulled out a chair from the table and sat. “There. I’m taking it easy.”

Billy sat beside him. “Duke wanted to watch you cooking. He said there’s nothing prettier than a gal in the kitchen.”

Duke rolled his eyes. “Billy, I didn’t mean for you to repeat that.”

Billy lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I’m stupid.”

Duke gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. “Billy, you aren’t stupid. And don’t you forget it.”

Billy sucked in a long breath. “If you say so.”

Rose turned away to hide her expression. Her admiration for the way Duke dealt with Billy left her struggling for equilibrium.

“Billy Boy,” he said, “I fear the horses are still tied at the rail. Would you take care of them, please?”

Billy set out on the task immediately.

“Billy seems an odd friend for you.” Rose kept her attention on peeling the potatoes as she spoke, but she couldn’t resist darting a glance at Duke to see his reaction.

He wiped a hand across his face. If she wasn’t mistaken, he tried to remove regret. Regret from Duke Caldwell? It didn’t seem possible.

“Billy said you saved his life. Sounds as though he tried to drown himself.”

“It was my fault.” The agony in Duke’s voice brought her attention to him.

Her heart twisted at the look on his face. “What did you do?” she whispered.

“I stood by while so-called friends teased him.”

The horror ground through her insides. “Let me guess. They called him stupid?”

“Among other things.” Each word seemed to scrape from inside him. “They were very cruel. To be fair, I was on my way to some silly play and I didn’t think I had time to stop and tell them to leave him be. I should have.”

“Oh, poor Billy.”

Duke wiped his hand across his face once more.

“He tried to drown himself because of what they said?”

Duke’s gaze clung to her, full of despair and sorrow.

She pressed her hand to her chest in a vain attempt to quench the same emotions rising within her. “You rescued him?”

Duke nodded.

“He saved me.” Neither of them had heard Billy reenter the room. He rushed to Duke’s side and hugged him. The movement caused Duke to flinch with pain but he patted Billy’s back and smiled.

Billy continued, “He almost drowned, too. You’re a good man, Duke.”

A silent communication passed between Rose and Duke. She understood what he hadn’t said. He saw only his failure in not intervening when he could have.

She wanted to grip his shoulder and say his good deed cancelled out his failure. Instead she turned her attention back to the meal preparations.

Who was he? Truly? A manipulator who said the feud was over when it obviously wasn’t. A hero who almost drowned rescuing someone weaker than him in every way.

He was a curious mixture of strength and vulnerability. Could he be both at the same time? What was she to believe?

Was he a feuding neighbor, the arrogant son of the rich rancher?

Or a kind, noble man?

She tried to dismiss the questions. What difference did it make to her? She had only come because he’d been injured and Ma had taught all the girls to never refuse to help a sick or injured person.

Apart from that, she was Rose Bell and he, Duke Caldwell. That was all she needed to know about him.

But her fierce admonitions did not stop the churning of her thoughts.

* * *

Duke had confessed his shame. She’d understandably been shocked and had turned away to prepare a pot of soup. Why had he let her see his weak side?

His only explanation was that his head hurt, making it hard to think straight.

Rose filled the soup pot and mixed up a batch of biscuits and popped them in the oven.

Putting aside his regret over confessing his sin of omission regarding Billy, he sat back and enjoyed watching Rose flit around the kitchen. His mother didn’t cook. Back east all the meals had come from the kitchen, prepared by a cook and served in a dining room. When Mrs. Humphrey prepared meals in this room he’d only been allowed to watch. Hence, cooking over the open fire had been learned by trial and error. Being able to share the kitchen with a young woman was a new experience. One, he decided, he quite enjoyed.

Rose brushed strands of hair out of her face. She wore her red hair in a braid down her back and it danced in sunshiny waves as she moved.

“Billy’s right,” he murmured half to himself. “Your hair is pretty.”

She ground to a halt and slowly came around to face him, her eyes narrow and challenging. She held the big stirring spoon like a weapon.

He held up both hands in a gesture of retreat. “Hey, it’s a compliment.”

Slowly the spoon was lowered. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

Billy went to her side. “How come you don’t like people saying your hair is nice?”

“Mostly because they don’t mean it.” She kept her back to both of them.

“I mean it.” Billy sounded hurt.

“I know you do.”

Duke waited, hoping and wishing she might turn to him and say the same thing. When she didn’t he couldn’t leave it alone. “I mean it, too.”

She stiffened. Then she slowly set the spoon on the cupboard and turned to face him. “‘Redhead redhead, fire in the woodshed.’ Remember that? I do.”

Her accusation ripped through him like a tornado, twisting, turning, filling him with tangled regret. He pushed to his feet, ignoring the dizziness, and crossed to her. He longed to touch her, to smooth her hair, to assure her in so many ways. “I was a foolish kid who didn’t know how to express his admiration.”

“Admiration?” Her eyes dripped disbelief. “For what?”

“Your hair is beautiful. You are beautiful.”

Her eyebrows reached for her hairline.

In for a penny, in for a dollar. He might as well say it all. “You are about the kindest, wisest woman I’ve met.”

She snorted. “Haven’t met many women, have you?”

He grinned. “Met some.” Indeed he’d met a lot of young women while back east. “None of whom would rescue an injured man. None who would likewise prepare him a meal. Rose Bell, you are something special.” He had the satisfaction of seeing pleasure flicker through her eyes before he returned to his seat.

Let her muse on that a while, he thought.

Billy chuckled. “Duke sure does like you, Rose.”

Rose jerked around and stirred the soup rather vigorously. “He hit his head too hard.”

A few minutes later she put two bowls on the table.

He caught her wrist. “Which one of us isn’t eating?”

She didn’t pull away but her face revealed a wealth of confusion. “I made the meal for you and Billy. I’ll ride on home.” She glanced out the window. “It will soon be dark.”

He looked out the window, too. “You have time to eat with us before you go. Billy and I will do the dishes so we don’t keep you.”

She glanced around as if seeking escape or excuse.

“Please eat with us, Rose.”

Not until she nodded did he release her wrist.

She scurried to the cupboard for another bowl. Put it on the table then ladled out soup and set out a plate of golden biscuits.

She hesitated only a moment before she sat in the chair opposite Duke. Only then did she lift her eyes to him.

He smiled at the expectant guardedness of her expression. “I’ll ask the blessing.”

She bowed her head and he did likewise. His heart was so filled with gratitude that his throat tightened and his words came out husky.

“God, bless this food. Bless those who share it at this meal. Thank You for Your many blessings. Amen.” Silently he added thanks for Billy, for Rose and for being safe at home with only a minor cut on his head. And for Rose being willing to share his table.

“Amen,” Rose and Billy echoed.

They were quiet a few moments as the biscuits were passed and the soup tested.

“That is so good.” Duke indicated the soup. “You’ll have to give me the recipe.”

Rose stared. “Why would I do that?”

He shrugged. “Maybe Billy and I will make it ourselves.”

Rose leaned closer. “I could tell you but then Ma would come after you with a fry pan and demand you forget you ever heard her secret ingredient.” She nodded with a hint of warning in her eyes. “So for your sake, I better not.”

He stared at her. Beside him, Billy shifted in his chair.

“Duke, you might get hurt.”

Duke knew she was joshing him but decided to play along. He widened his eyes in fake surprise. “But...but—” A sputter or two would help convince her that he bought her story. “I saw you prepare the soup. I saw what you put in.” He’d watched all right, but his attention had been on the cook, not the ingredients. He gave a shudder that he hoped seemed real. “I can hardly forget what I saw. Can I?”

Billy pushed his chair back and sat forward, preparing to run.

Duke rested a hand on Billy’s arm. “Don’t worry. I don’t think anyone is going to hurt us.” Time to end this farce. “In fact...” He leaned over the table and fixed Rose with a narrow-eyed look. “I remember your mother as a kind, gentle soul. I’m quite certain she’d never threaten to hurt me.”

Rose blinked and then amusement flooded her eyes. She leaned back and laughed. “I thought I had you worried but you were only teasing.”

Billy let out a gust of air. “You were teasing?” he asked Duke.

“We both were,” Rose said. “Sorry if we worried you, Billy.”

Billy looked from Duke to Rose and back again, confusion wreathing his features. Then his expression cleared and he nodded. “That’s how my friend, Andy, acted around his girl.”

Rose’s grin fled. “It’s not like that.”

Duke’s pride nose-dived at her quick denial. Then it rebounded. Had she responded too quickly, as if afraid, or surprised, at the truth in Billy’s words? He grinned at the idea but said nothing.

Instead he talked about how glad he was to be back in Montana. “I didn’t much care for city life.”

She nodded, though he wondered if she was even listening to him.

He tucked a secret smile inside. Perhaps even now she was wondering if there could be a hint of attraction between them.

A few minutes later, Rose glanced across the table. “Are you finished?” At his nod, she started to gather up the dishes.

He waved her away. “I said Billy and I would clean up.”

She nodded and sank back, her gaze on the dressing on his forehead. “You really should be resting.”

“I’ll be fine.” He didn’t get to his feet, knowing dizziness would assault him.

With an uncertain nod, she pushed away from the table and rose. “Then I’ll be on my way.” But she stood there watching him.

He lifted his gaze to hers and had to blink at the concern darkening her eyes. “Rose, I’m fine. Thank you for everything. Rescuing me. Taking care of me...” His throat tightened at all she’d done. Perhaps it was only out of duty and concern for mankind, but her touch, her concern, her smile all wound through his heart with the feel of a personal gift. “And for the delicious meal.” When he said the last words, a thought struck him and he laughed.

She blinked. “The meal was funny?”

He sobered but amusement made his words round and pleasant on his tongue. “Normally a guy takes a gal out for a special dinner. At least that’s been my experience. But this has been the nicest dinner I’ve ever shared with a gal.”

“And you expect me to believe that after you’ve spent a year in Philadelphia?”

“It’s true. Guess it’s the company that makes the difference.”

“More likely it’s the bang on your head that has scrambled your thoughts.”

He had never been more certain of anything despite the throbbing of his wound.

She slipped into her coat and stuffed her hair under a big hat.

Why did she cover her hair? He wanted to yank the hat from her head.

She turned. Something in his look made her hands grow still.

The air between them filled with a wealth of things that needed to be said.

“Rose—” But words were not adequate.

She turned her back and reached for the door handle. “I must go. Goodbye.” She fled the room. Billy had left her horse tied to the rail. Within seconds the thud of hooves rattled through his head.

He rubbed his chin. Why did she remain so prickly when he’d succeeded in getting Father to end the feud?

Did she find him unlikeable?

He considered how often she’d blushed while talking to him, how her eyes had locked on his and then skittered away.

He would not believe she found him unappealing.