Page 23 of For the Roses (Claybornes' Brides (Rose Hill) 1)

  “You’d already be finished if you didn’t waste so much time talking everything over with the horses first. They don’t understand a word you say to them. You must realize that.”

  “I’m getting them used to my voice,” Harrison explained. “They’re stubborn, yes, but also frightened. I’m not the only one who talks to the horses. I’ve heard Douglas.”

  “He’s right,” Douglas admitted. “I do talk to them.”

  “Douglas, will you please go and remind Mary Rose it’s her turn to clear the table? Harrison, you can have the duty tomorrow night.”

  “Certainly. What does the task involve?”

  “Haven’t you ever had to clean up the dishes before?” Cole asked.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “You sure were pampered, weren’t you?” Travis remarked.

  “I suppose I was.”

  Douglas had gotten up from his chair and walked over to the door. He paused at the threshold, then turned around and hurried back to the table.

  “I’m not going in there. You go get her, Travis.”

  Douglas sat down just as Travis stood up. “She’s playing Beethoven,” Douglas warned.

  “Which one?” Travis asked.

  “The Fifth.”

  He sat down again. “Let’s send Harrison.”

  All the brothers laughed. Cole explained what was amusing. “You don’t want to mess with Mary Rose when she’s playing Beethoven.”

  “Meaning?”

  “She’s in a real sour mood,” Cole explained. “Whenever we hear ‘The Fifth,’ we run the other way. You’re safe if it’s Mozart or Chopin,” he added. “She’s really pounding it out tonight, isn’t she, Adam?”

  His brother smiled. “Yes, she is,” he agreed. “Harrison, are you ready to go into the library?”

  Harrison agreed with a nod and stood up. He followed Adam out of the room.

  The two men had fallen into the habit of capping each evening with a spirited debate. Harrison looked forward to the mental sparring. The first few times he allowed Adam to win, or at least he believed he’d allowed him the victories, but eventually his own competitive nature demanded he take a few wins as well.

  Debating Adam was challenging. Harrison thoroughly enjoyed it, almost as much as Adam did.

  He took his seat in one of the two soft leather chairs in front of the hearth and picked up the notebook from the side table. He moved the ink bottle and pen closer to his reach.

  Adam poured each of them a shot glass filled to the brim with brandy. He handed Harrison his drink and then sat down across from his guest.

  Harrison propped his feet up on the footstool. “What’s our topic tonight?”

  “I’ve given the matter a good deal of thought, and decided on the final invasion of Carthage.” He seemed to savor each word he said.

  “We can’t talk about the end until we have examined the beginning,” Harrison replied.

  Adam slapped his knee. “Precisely so,” he said. “The Greeks, you must realize, were a proud and highly intelligent people.”

  His opening statement established his position. Harrison countered with his thesis. “As were the Spartans. They were also invincible fighting men, with superior skills in every area, including battle plans. Their superiority cannot be disputed.”

  Thus the debate began. The two men argued for well over an hour. When Adam finally suggested a halt, Harrison counted up the points each had had to concede to the other. He and Adam were disappointed to find out the evening had ended in a draw.

  Adam stayed in the library to read before going up to bed. Harrison said good night and started back to the bunkhouse.

  Mary Rose was waiting for him on the front porch. Her golden hair was a beacon in the moonlight.

  “Why aren’t you in bed? It’s late.”

  “I needed some air,” she answered. “I’ll walk with you.”

  Harrison waited for her at the bottom of the stairs. They walked side by side across the yard.

  “I’m restless tonight.”

  “Didn’t Beethoven help you get rid of your anger?”

  She could hear the amusement in his voice. She smiled in reaction. “I wasn’t angry, just frustrated. My brothers can be overbearing. They’re forever trying to interfere.”

  “I don’t think they interfere enough,” he told her. “It’s dangerous out here.”

  “And I’m a weak, little woman, right?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not about to get into that discussion. I don’t have a piano in the bunkhouse, and that would leave me to take the pounding.”

  “Then you believe I’m incapable . . .”

  “I didn’t give an opinion one way or another,” he said. “You do have one habit that irritates me to no end, Mary Rose. You always jump to conclusions before you have all the facts.”

  Her hand brushed against his. “I do?” she asked.

  “Yes, you do.”

  She deliberately brushed against him again. He didn’t take the hint. The man was either shy or dense, she decided. Subtlety was wasted on him. She guessed she would have to be bold if she was going to get him to cooperate, and that conclusion irritated her to no end.

  She grabbed hold of his hand and moved closer to his side. Harrison would either have to fling her aside or shove her, and he was simply too much of a gentleman to behave in such an ungentlemanly fashion. He was stuck with her, whether he liked it or not.

  Her show of affection took him by surprise. He didn’t pull his hand away. He squeezed hers instead and held on tight.

  “You spend an awful lot of time talking to Adam,” she remarked in what she hoped was a casual tone of voice. She was nervous about bringing up the subject, and she didn’t want him to notice.

  “You think so?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  He didn’t say another word. She kept hoping he would explain why, and when he continued to keep silent, she decided to prod him.

  “I wonder why you talk to him every night,” she began again.

  Her voice was strained. He looked down at her to find out if she was just worried about something or actually afraid.

  All he could see was the top of her head. She was staring down at the ground and wouldn’t look at him. Her hand was trembling though, indicating she was very concerned about something or other.

  He knew better than to take the direct approach to find out what was wrong. The only way to get Mary Rose to make sense was to go in through the back door.

  “I enjoy talking to him.”

  “I thought you did.”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you talk about?”

  “This and that.”

  “Be more specific.”

  “Why? What is it you want to know?”

  “I was curious.”

  “We talk about all sorts of things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the war between your states, and why no one ever called it a war while it was going on. What did you think we were talking about?”

  “I thought you might be asking him questions. You do tend to be overly curious by nature.”

  “What would I ask him questions about?”

  “His background.”

  “No, I didn’t ask him about his background.”

  It wasn’t until he’d given the admission that he realized how telling it was. He hadn’t asked her brother one single question about his past. He had deliberately wasted perfect opportunities to try to find out more about the family.

  He was astonished by his own behavior. He hadn’t kept his priorities straight, and the realization appalled him. He had come to Montana Territory in search of the truth, yet now, when there was just one vital piece of information needed to fit the entire sequence of events together and find the culprit responsible for the kidnapping, he had ceased and desisted.

  He understood the reason for his reluctance. The truth was going to tear the Clayborne family apart. Honest to God, it was teari

ng him apart just thinking about the pain he would cause all of them.

  Mary Rose was holding on to his hand now, letting him feel her affection for him, but he knew that when she found out why he had stayed with her family, she would despise him.

  He didn’t want her hatred; he wanted and needed her love.

  Harrison quickened his step. He was suddenly furious with himself. He needed time alone to think things through and come to some sort of resolution. He’d become emotionally involved with the Clayborne family without even noticing what was happening to him. He liked all of them, cared about them, worried about them. Hell, he even enjoyed disliking Cole.

  Oh, yes, he had a lot to think about tonight.

  “Harrison, I didn’t mean to insult you by suggesting you would pry,” Mary Rose whispered.

  “I didn’t think that,” he replied.

  “You aren’t angry?”

  “No, of course not.” He slowed his step and tried to calm down.

  “Then do quit squeezing my hand.”

  He immediately let go of her. “It’s cold tonight. You should go back to the house,” he said abruptly.

  “I’m not cold,” she said. It finally occurred to her that he might be trying to get away from her.

  She fervently hoped she was wrong. “Are you worried about something?”

  “Like what?” he asked.

  “That I might kiss you again.”

  Her remark was absurd. He couldn’t help but laugh. “I kissed you,” he reminded her.

  “I assisted.”

  “All right, we were both culpable.”

  “Culpable,” she repeated. “You’re a lawyer all right. I wish you weren’t.”

  “Explain.”

  “Lawyers bother us.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. She wasn’t going to explain any further. Harrison didn’t let go of his question. He decided it was high time he got a suitable answer.

  “Were you worried I would ask Adam questions about the family or about his background?”

  They had stopped walking and now faced each other. The moonlight cast a golden canopy all around them.

  “I just didn’t want you to bother him. Adam doesn’t like to talk about parts of his growing-up years. He was in bondage, Harrison. That is all you need to know.”

  “What does he like to talk about?” he asked. “Is the time he spent in New York City off limits for conversation as well?”

  “No.”

  “How about the time he spent getting here? Will he talk about the journey, or should I avoid the subject altogether?”

  “I don’t believe he would mind talking about the journey. My brothers are quite proud of what they accomplished.”

  Harrison couldn’t stop himself from taking hold of her and pulling her closer to him. It wasn’t a physical response to her this time. He just wanted to keep her close for as long as he could.

  She seemed to understand what he needed, for she put her arms around his waist and hugged him tight.

  “You were very lonely growing up, weren’t you?”

  “If I was, I didn’t know it,” he answered. His chin dropped to rest on the top of her head. He closed his eyes and let himself feel the pleasure she was offering him.

  “Until now?” she whispered into the collar of his shirt.

  “Yes, until now.”

  She was trying to comfort him. Harrison was almost overwhelmed by her gentleness and her understanding. She had so much love inside her. She made him feel . . . complete somehow. Life had been empty, hollow, terribly cold. Mary Rose, sweet, loving Mary Rose. What in God’s name was he going to do about her?

  He finally forced himself to let go of her. Getting her to let go of him took a little longer. He had to pull her hands away from him.

  “I’m not going to ask you to kiss me. You needn’t worry about that.”

  “You need to go home, Mary Rose. Come on, I’ll walk with you.”

  “But I just walked you to your home.”

  “Good night then.”

  “Good night.”

  She turned to leave. Harrison clasped his hands behind his back and watched her. He was completely caught off guard when she suddenly turned again and threw herself into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned up on her tiptoes, and gave him a long, thoroughly inadequate kiss.

  He couldn’t stop himself from taking over. His arms wrapped her in his embrace, and then he showed her how he wanted to be kissed. His mouth was hot, open, devouring. His tongue moved inside to mate with hers, and, heaven help him, he couldn’t seem to get enough of her.

  The kiss turned carnal. He never wanted it to stop. The husky little sound she made in the back of her throat intoxicated him. Everything about her was magical to him, and when he realized he wanted much, much more from her, he immediately pulled back.

  She stared up at him, her lips rosy and swollen from his kisses, her eyes misty with passion, and all he wanted to think about was pulling her back into his arms again.

  “Good night.” Her voice was a throaty whisper.

  She didn’t move. Harrison was inordinately pleased with her bemused state of mind. He understood that passion was new to her, and because she didn’t have any experience to guide her, she was vulnerable because she trusted him. Mary Rose was a strong woman. She wouldn’t allow any man to take advantage of her. She had high values and morals, but she was nonetheless vulnerable with him. It was, therefore, his duty to keep her from being hurt.

  Harrison watched her until she reached the house and went inside. And still he didn’t move. What in God’s name was he going to do? Mary Rose was falling in love with him. He could have stopped the infatuation before it became more serious. Yet he had done nothing at all to discourage her.

  Why hadn’t he? Harrison blanched over the truth. It had been staring him in the face for over a week now. He knew exactly why he hadn’t discouraged her.

  He was in love with her.

  August 2, 1864

  Dear Mama Rose,

  We read in the Hammond paper about another battle that was fought right around where you and Mistress Livonia live. Of course we all started worrying. We’ve heard so many terrible stories about the riots for food and medical supplies. A week after we read the paper, your letter arrived telling us you were doing just fine. You’re probably shaking your head over our foolishness. You keep telling us to have faith in God and let Him do the worrying, but sometimes it’s hard to hand things over to Him. We try, Mama. I guess that ought to count for something.

  We’re sure sorry to hear the new treatment didn’t improve Mistress Livonia’s eyes. Don’t you think all those beatings her husband inflicted on her might have something to do with her blurred eyesight now? I remember seeing her all bruised and bloodied. Please tell her we’re thinking about her and praying for a recovery from the cross she’s been given.

  I hope her sons are leaving the two of you alone. Some of the things they’ve done to their own mama makes us sick inside. How can her sons be so cruel? Cole’s worried the boys will try to bother you the way their father did, but I told him to have more faith in you. As long as you keep on your guard and stay close to their mother, they won’t dare come after you. I pray I’m right.

  There was another of Lincoln’s fine speeches reprinted in the paper. He gave the talk several years ago, Mama. Did you know he called us Black Men instead of slaves? Black seems more dignified to me than some of the other names I’ve heard. Cole wonders why everyone can’t be just called men and women. He doesn’t see any reason in having to be more specific. I wish it were all that simple, but people have strange notions about anyone who isn’t just like him. Why does being a different color make people hate?

  One night all of us brothers got into a discussion about the differences in the races. I asked Travis if he thought the men who wrote the Declaration of Independence for us worried about the color of a man’s skin. It says in our laws that all men are created e

qual. I told my brothers I didn’t believe Jefferson was thinking about including black men when he wrote down his rules for government, but Douglas said it shouldn’t matter. Equal is equal, no matter what color your skin is or what religion you practice, and so on. We all ended up agreeing on one thing. A lot of southern folks never took the time to read the Constitution.

  Mary Rose likes to help with the dishes now. She’s careful with the two china cups Travis got for her. He promised her that as soon as he could barter for a couple more, he’d show her how to have a proper tea party. He’s trying to find a teapot now, and knowing Travis, he won’t fail. He doesn’t know anything about what’s proper, of course, but he is sure Mrs. Morrison will be happy to show him how it’s done, and then we can teach our sister. Cole swears he isn’t having any part in tea parties, but he’ll change his mind. He always does.

  Cole finally started work on our house. One thing after another prevented him from beginning the project last year. First there was the barn for Douglas, then winter set in before he could put in the cellar, and the following spring, he had to spend all his time hunting for food and horses to barter. We sold every one of the mustangs he captured. The mountains are filled with opportunities. Cole can’t work on the house while his brothers work gathering up horses. He knows our income depends on catching the wild ones and training them before anyone else does. Douglas is getting a reputation around Blue Belle. Folks come from miles around to get his opinion on what should be done about an ailing cow or a persnickety hen. My brother does have a gift of knowing what should be done.

  We’ve all started working hard to clean up our language because Mary Rose is swearing all the time now. Cole came up with the idea of writing a new word on the chalkboard every morning. We all have to use the word sometime during the day. He thought it would be good for all of us to increase our vocabulary, and of course sister will also benefit. She doesn’t like to be left out of anything.

  I’m enclosing everyone’s personal notes to you. I’ll write again real soon, Mama.

  God keep you safe,

  Adam