Montana Rose Page 18

  “Oh, Ben, I have to say I envy her. A baby.”

  “Yep,” Ben agreed. “Wouldn’t mind one myself. Miss Robin needs some competition.”

  “Mrs. Backley’s a lucky woman.”

  “Mmm, hmm. But is Wise River?”

  Rose gave him a startled look. “What do you mean?”

  “Another Willy.”

  “Ohhh,” Rose groaned. “I didn’t think of that.”

  “Bears thinking about all right. But I just think Mr. Backley might find out he’s got a backbone after all. Did you see that whack he gave Willy?”

  Rose chuckled. “I don’t know who was surprised the most, Willy or Mr. Backley.”

  They both nodded in agreement as they continued back to the Rocking R.

  “Ben?” Rose broke the companionable silence.

  “Yes.” He turned to her.

  “I’ve been thinking.”

  “Thought you might be. You’ve been uncharacteristically silent,” he teased.

  No smile greeted his words. Rose’s eyes were fixed down the road as if it contained her answer.

  “Rose? I’m listening. And I don’t have to tell you, do I, that anything you tell me will be confidential, friend to doctor.”

  “Thank you, I know that.” Rose took a cleansing breath. “Ben, who would you say is the most repulsive, disgusting man in Wise River or even close to Wise River?”

  Ben chuckled. “Now that’s a question. Why would you want to know?” He then realized Rose was very serious. “Well”—he rubbed his chin—“I’d have to say Elmer Wattle.”

  “Ugh! I’d have to say you’re right. I don’t think the man has bathed in years. He looks like he wallows alongside those pigs of his. You can smell his ranch miles before you get there. There’s always a plug of tobacco stuck in his jaw, and he spits that vile, brown juice wherever and whenever he wants. I was in the mercantile once when he came in, and I had to hide behind a counter with a handkerchief over my nose.”

  “He’s ripe,” Ben agreed, his nostrils flaring.

  “I can almost smell him now,” Rose said, her face wrinkling into a grimace.

  Ben nodded emphatically. “Now, why the question?”

  Rose sucked in her cheeks, then said drolly, “Didn’t you say it would take a strong woman to make Jesse Rivers overcome whatever keeps him from loving someone? Like me, maybe?”

  “I did.”

  “Well.” Rose drew out the word. “How about a strong smell?”

  Ben shook his head, a baffled expression on his face. Then his mouth widened into a grin and his eyes filled with glee.

  “Damn. Sorry, Rose. But I think I know where you’re going with this and I have to tell you—”

  “Yes?” Rose asked sweetly.

  “It’s evil, diabolical, and brilliant. If Elmer Wattle doesn’t make Jesse realize the error of his thinking, nothing will. I’d even venture to say that’s a stinking thing to do to someone.”

  Laughter filled the air.

  “I couldn’t have said it better, Ben. Would you be willing to help me, just a little?”

  “I sure would. You’re one of my favorite people, Rose, and Jesse deserves a woman like you. What can I do?”

  “On your way back to town, would you mind swinging by Mr. Wattle’s pig farm? I’d like you to ask him if he’d pick me up tomorrow around eleven o’clock.”

  “Okay, and why would he do that?”

  “Because I want to buy a couple pigs from him, and I need his guidance in picking out just the right pair. Of course, I’ll have to visit his farm to do that.”

  “Whew. Are you sure you can do that? You’ll have to throw whatever you’re wearing away after being beside him in a wagon. Not to mention the smell of his place. Wear old boots, Rose. You don’t know what you’ll be wading through.”

  Rose grimaced. “Oh, I think I have a good idea. Also, you might just let it drop I make the best chocolate cake around. Uh-huh, with thick chocolate icing. And just naturally I’d be bringing him a great big slice to pay for his”—she gulped—“wisdom.”

  Ben’s hearty laugh rang out. “You’re a wicked woman, Rose Bush.”

  “No, just a desperate one.”

  The next morning when Jesse was in the kitchen for a final cup of coffee, Rose snuck upstairs and slipped on her prettiest dress, one she saved for very special occasions. She would be sorry to see the dress ruined, but it was worth the sacrifice.

  The sky-blue gown brought out the azure blue of her eyes, making them hidden pools of promise. Her hair hung down her back, ethereal as spun gold. She put on dainty slippers and pinched her already rosy cheeks. But all the effort and glances into the mirror could not dispel the cold knot in her stomach.

  What if it doesn’t work? What if I make a fool of myself? Maybe Ben’s wrong about Jesse hiding his feelings for me? Maybe he’s not hiding them, maybe there’s nothing there to hide.

  Twice she started down the stairs, and twice she returned to the safety of her room, gulping for air. Finally, she squared her shoulders, placed a smile on her face, and waltzed into the kitchen.

  Jesse was busy munching a piece of left over bacon. Tory was the first to see her, and his eyes grew so round they took up most of his face.

  “Lordy, Miss Rose,” he gasped, “you’re beautiful.”

  Jesse swiveled. His mouth fell open as breath whooshed from him. The bacon fell to the floor.

  “Damn,” he muttered reverently. He beheld an angel in a blue gown. It was unfair, what she was doing to his heart.

  “Awfully early in the day for a dress like that. You going to a p-party?” he stuttered.

  “Nope.”

  “That’s sure as heck not a dress you wear to do chores.”

  Rose forced a quick laugh. “It certainly isn’t,” she said mysteriously.

  His eyes followed her as she moved to the counter then lifted the lid from the cake plate and cut a large slice.

  “That’s a mighty big slice of cake,” Jesse choked out.

  Rose gave him a sweet smile. “He’s a mighty big man,” she said coyly. Then, humming to herself, she wrapped the cake in a square of cloth.

  “He?” Jesse gasped.

  Rose chose to ignore him, and in a show of anxious anticipation, pulled back the kitchen curtain, gazing out with what she hoped was a longing expression.

  As if on cue, a rickety wagon lumbered into the yard. A barrel-chested man pulled back on the reins as angry expletives filled the air.

  Rose gulped and ran from the kitchen, making it as far as the door when she remembered the cake. “Oops,” she said apologetically. “I’m just so nervous, and excited.” A girlish giggle followed the words.

  Tory made for the window only to be pushed aside by Jesse.

  The sight of Rose, his Rose, chore boots in hand, running toward the dilapidated wagon, and the dirty, tobacco-spitting man still spewing cuss words at the hapless mules, caused a few of the same words to spill from his mouth.

  “What the hell? That’s Elmer Wattle. Stinky Pig Wattle,” he added, not believing his eyes.

  Knocking a kitchen chair aside, he charged from the room.

  The smell hit him the moment he opened the door. Mouth ajar, he watched Rose clamber up unassisted into the wagon and scoot close to the foul man.

  “Miss Rose.” Elmer belched and gave her a nod, his sweat-stained hat bobbing. “Came just like the D—”

  “—Just like I knew you would, you, uh, you . . .” Rose swallowed hard. “. . . you big man.”

  “Huh?” Elmer pulled his short neck back. “Why wouldn’t I? I ain’t one to shy away from a sa—”

  “Slice of cake,” Rose hurriedly injected. “A slice of chocolate cake.” She tried for an enticing sm
ile. Good Lord, this was harder than she thought.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jesse striding toward the wagon, his face as dark as a thundercloud.

  “We’d better go, Elmer,” she said with a chortle. “I can’t wait to see your farm and your darling little pigs.”

  “You can’t?” he asked disbelievingly. “Best we wait up. Looks like Rivers has something he wants to say.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” Rose blurted. And with that, she leaned forward and smacked the nearest mule’s back with one of the boots in her hand.

  The mule bucked and the wagon jumped forward, slamming Rose back against the seat.

  The startled animals pulled against the traces, made a sharp turn, then galloped out of the yard.

  Hair flying, Rose gripped the edge of the seat with one hand and threw a jaunty wave at an unbelieving Jesse.

  Chapter 38

  Jesse paced up and down, up and down, packing the ground in front of the house. Every few minutes, he stopped and peered down the road. Tory sat on the porch steps, chin in his hand, watching his brother.

  “She’s been gone two hours,” Jesse growled. “She has no business . . .”

  “You don’t own her, Jesse,” Tory said meekly.

  “What?” Jesse barked.

  “Miss Rose. You don’t own her.”

  “Like hell I don’t. I pay her wages. She belongs—”

  “To no one,” Tory interrupted. “Miss Rose is free to see who she likes.” His voice dropped. “She’s free to marry anyone she wants, too.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Jesse felt as if his defenses had been stripped away. His emotions were raw. His power of reasoning had fled the moment he saw Rose climb into that wagon and drive away. He caught a glimpse of the future when she’d be climbing into a different wagon and driving away from him for good. He hurt. His whole body hurt.

  He stopped in his tracks. “There’s no future in it,” he said to himself. “I have no right to love her.” What he’d just said hit him like a hammer to his stomach. He loved her. How, when, or why didn’t matter. He rubbed his hand over his face. The realization filled him with awe. All at once, he knew, without a doubt, the days of hiding behind his fears were over. There was a greater fear at stake. His fear of being the person his father was took second place to his fear of losing Rose. To prevent that, he knew what he must do. He had to cast off the mantle of worry and doubt. He had to tell Rose and hope she’d take him, imperfections and all.

  “I’d never hurt her,” he said. “I could never hurt someone so precious. I really do love her.” The words were weak. Then he spoke them again, stronger, as a smile flashed onto his face. “I’d never hurt her,” he shouted the revelation.

  Tory jumped to his feet and looked worriedly at his brother.

  “Jesse?” he asked tentatively. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay, Tory. In fact, I’m better than okay.”

  Tory blinked. “If you say so. But I have to tell you, you’re acting mighty strange.”

  “Well, maybe I am. I’ve been a slow-witted fool.” He moved closer to his brother. Then, in a voice full of wonder, Jesse said, “I love her.”

  “Sure you do.” Tory grinned. “I’ve known that for a long time.”

  Jesse reached out and ruffled his hair. “How’d you get to be so smart?”

  “Well, it sure wasn’t from you. Maybe losing Miss Rose isn’t smart at all.”

  “Well, I haven’t lost her yet.”

  “Better tell her that ‘cause here they come, and she’s wearing a big smile.”

  Rose’s stomach had started doing flips when she’d walked toward Elmer’s wagon and the smell accosted her. Still, that was nothing to compare with what it did when she climbed down from the wagon in front of his sagging house and stepped in an oozing pile of pig droppings. Pulling back her foot, she’d swallowed hard and breathed through her mouth.

  “Meant to warn you,” Elmer said cheerfully. “That’s Snout’s poop. He ain’t particular where he leaves it.” He punctuated the words with a loud guffaw.

  “Snout?” Rose asked weakly.

  “Yep. There he is.” He pointed to a large black-and-white boar pig rooting under a scrawny tree.

  Hearing his owner’s voice, the pig glanced up, and emitting squeals of pleasure, then came running toward them.

  “There’s my boy. Come here and meet this pretty lady. She’s fixin’ to buy a couple of your offspring.” Elmer chuckled.

  “No,” Rose protested. “That’s not necessary. He doesn’t need to . . .” But it was too late. The huge boar was rubbing his long, pink snout against her dress, leaving streaks of what Rose prayed was mud.

  “See there, he likes you. Snout’s mighty particular who he takes to,” Elmer said laconically.

  “Lucky me,” Rose gasped.

  Elmer turned back to the wagon and grabbed the carefully wrapped piece of chocolate cake from the seat.

  “Better take this with me. Snout smells it, and he’ll find some way to get in that wagon. He purely loves cake. Why, one time I left half a cake on the kitchen table, and when I came back in the room, there he was, big as if you please, standing on the tabletop, snorting it down.” He gave a laugh that shook the gut hanging over his filthy pants.

  Thus said, he tore open the cloth and shoved most of the cake in his mouth. “Here, Snout, I’ll share.” He put out his grubby cake-filled paw to the grunting pig. Snout didn’t hesitate and happily gobbled down the cake, drools of delight falling between the man’s fingers.

  “Hey now. Leave some for me.” Whereupon Elmer pulled his hand away from the slobbering pig and shoved the remaining few crumbs, drool and all, into his mouth.

  “Dang pig’s a pig.” He laughed uproariously. “Made a joke, didn’t I?” He gave Rose such a nudge with his elbow, she stumbled forward into another pile of Snout’s indiscriminate leavings.

  Rose, stomach rolling, took a deep breath, swallowed, and sent up a fervent prayer she wouldn’t embarrass herself by losing her breakfast.

  “Well, come on, Miss Bush. We’ll go into the pig pen so’s you can see the litter I’m, uh, weaning for sale.”

  Not waiting for Rose, he opened the gate into a pen swimming with mire, soured food slop, and manure from the big sow and her ten prodigies. High-pitched squealing and panic ensued as they ran from the intruders.

  “Oh, my.” Rose covered her mouth and nose with her hand.

  Elmer stopped and looked at her. “Bit ripe, ain’t it? You’ll get used to it. I don’t even smell it anymore. Now you see those two huddled in the corner?”

  Rose forced herself to look where he was pointing.

  “Them’s the last two of this litter ain’t spoken for. You want ‘em?”

  “Huh?” Rose gasped.

  “You said you wanted to buy two pigs, didn’t you? You ain’t been wasting my time now, have you?” He peered suspiciously at Rose. “You’re looking mighty peculiar.

  “If’n you’re spoofin’ me, I wouldn’t blame you. Most women enjoy my company. No doubt about it, I’m husband material. I’m a wealthy man. I got this fine farm, and I’m in my prime.” He leaned closer to Rose, his rancid breath hot on her face. “You probably find me attractive,” he said pompously, swelling out his chest.

  Rose took a quick step backward, no longer caring what she stepped in. “Oh, no, Mr. Wattle. I don’t.”

  “You don’t?” Wonder filled his voice. Wonder and disbelief. “You’re a widow woman ain’t cha?”

  Rose gulped and took another step back. “What I meant to say is, I’m not looking for a husband.” At his scowl, she quickly added, “Of course, if I was, I’d consider you.” Rose hoped lightning wouldn’t strike her for the lie that had just flown from her mo
uth.

  “Figured.” Elmer smirked. “Well, you want these two weaners or not?” He might have lost a future wife, but a sale was a sale.

  “Uh, sure. Yes, I’m buying them for, for a gift.”

  “That so?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Yes.” Rose fumbled. Where was her brain at a time like this? “A gift. A birthday gift,” she said. “For Jesse Rivers. His birthday’s tomorrow.” Breathless, she reached behind her, opened the gate, and backed out.

  “Well now, them’s a mighty fine gift. I’ll deliver ‘em tomorrow. You got the money?”

  “Yes. Money. I’ve got it. At home.” She made a hasty retreat to the wagon. Readying herself to climb in, she gathered the hem of her gown in her hands only to realize it was saturated with black, smelly mire from the pen.

  “Oh, no,” she cried, dropping the gown and holding her repulsive hands in front of her face. Without thinking, she vigorously rubbed them down the front of the dress, smearing more of the stinking filth across her bosom.

  “Well, get in. Ain’t got all day.” The wagon groaned and sunk a few inches as Mr. Wattle loaded his girth onto the seat. He barely waited for Rose to climb in before cracking the reins. Missing him by inches, he hollered to Snout to get out of the way as they tore down the rutted road.

  Chapter 39

  Rose all but fell out of the wagon when it came to a jerking stop a few feet from Jesse. She ducked her head, praying he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. Hopefully, she was downwind from him.

  But her luck had run out. Her feet had no sooner touched the ground than Jesse grabbed her arm and started to pull her to him. Wrinkling up his face, he held her at arm’s length and ran his eyes from the hem of her dress to the smears across her bosom. There was even a streak of black mud across one cheek.