Prairie Rose (17 page)
“All right.” Rosie looked up into the German’s gray eyes as she ladled the bowl full of stew. Rolf had spent a great deal of time at Seth’s homestead in the past weeks, and Rosie was accustomed to his presence. In fact, she hardly noticed him. He worked hard. He was cheerful. He treated Chipper kindly. And he ate like a hungry horse.
But other than creating a need to calculate extra portions into her meals, Rolf had been invisible to Rosie. She had been so busy setting up the household, weeding the kitchen garden, baking, washing, ironing, and sewing that she hadn’t given a second thought to her plan to marry the big blond German. Now she realized she had only five months to make it happen. She ought to start paying him some heed.
“You did a good job on the bridge,” she said, handing Rolf a bowl. “Good work.”
“Ja, ja.”
He smiled. “You are velcome.”
She didn’t think he had understood. Oh well, he certainly fit every item on her list for an ideal marriage partner: strong, honest, hardworking, kind. Rolf was a good man. He didn’t disturb her the way Seth did. He never teased or argued. He never complimented or criticized. He never said anything at all. He just happily went about his work, pausing only to devour grizzly bear–sized portions of whatever she put on the table. Rolf was the perfect mate.
Seth, on the other hand, was complicated, intelligent, edgy, and a demanding perfectionist. When he looked at Rosie, the blood in her temples began to pound, and her heart jumped into her throat. If he inadvertently brushed her hand, strange fiery tingles raced straight up her arm. She found herself listening for his whistle at dawn when he came across the yard to milk the cows. And at night, when he walked her to the barn to light her path with the lantern, she searched for things to say just so she could hear his deep voice.
Truth to tell, Seth Hunter had become a constant presence in her thoughts. He made her feel nervous. Challenged. Alive. Very much alive. She couldn’t understand what it meant. Her feelings about him reminded her of the stories she had read to the children at the Home—stories about princes and princesses falling in love.
“Love?” she said out loud. The very thought of that word in connection with Seth Hunter threw her for a loop.
Rolf handed her another empty bowl to fill. “Lof,” he repeated.
“Was ist
lof
?”
“Love? Oh, it’s nothing.” She swallowed hard and waved away the word. “Some people think it has to do with marriage. Husbands and wives. People have a wedding, you see. They marry. They live together and have children. Getting married is—”
“What are you talking to Rustemeyer about?” Seth demanded.
He had approached the fire so quietly Rosie hadn’t heard him. When she turned toward Seth’s voice, she saw that his blue eyes were blazing, and the muscles in his jaw flickered with tension. Behind him, a group of travelers—six mounted horsemen—were talking with Jimmy O’Toole some distance from the soddy. “Who are those men?” Rosie asked. “Where did they come from? Is Jack Cornwall among them?”
“No. They’re all right. Casimir Laski sent them from his station. They were hoping we had finished building the bridge so they could cut a few miles off their trip. They’re cattlemen on their way to Salina to pick up five hundred head and drive them to Kansas City.” Seth eyed the stew. “Do you have enough to feed them?”
“Of course.”
“Good. Rustemeyer, see to their horses.” At the man’s blank look, Seth leaned closer and said loudly.
“Horses.”
“You won’t make him understand by shouting,” Rosie said. She pointed at the lead rider’s horse. “Help, please.”
“Ja, ja.”
Rustemeyer gave Rosie a warm smile and headed off in the direction of the visitors. She watched him go, and she felt happy that with each new word he learned he was fitting in better with prairie society.
“Mr. Rustemeyer is doing very well with his English, don’t you—”
“I don’t want you to marry that man,” Seth cut in, his voice hard. “You hear me, Miss Mills? Rosie?”
At his use of her first name, she glanced at him in surprise. “And why not? I can marry whoever I want to.”
“No, you can’t. Not him.”
“Rolf is a good person. He’s kind. He’s hardworking.” She stirred the stew for a moment. “Do you think he wouldn’t have me? If he knew … about Deuteronomy, I mean?”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with Deuteronomy.”
“Then what? Why wouldn’t he—”
“It’s not you. It’s … well, it
is
you. You’re … you’re … you’re mine. My worker, I mean. I brought you from Kansas City, didn’t I? You’re sleeping in my barn. Eating my food. I need you. Need you around the house. You do good work. Chipper likes you. I won’t have you going off to marry Rustemeyer.”
Rosie stared at Seth. The tips of his ears had gone bright red, and she could see a little vein jumping in his forehead. What on earth had upset him so? The thought of her marrying Rolf Rustemeyer had him fairly steaming. But why? Did he dislike the German so much? Or did he consider Rosie his own personal servant over whom he had absolute power? Or did his concern have something to do with Chipper? Or was there something … something else … behind it?
Slowly she turned back to the stew and set the lid on the cauldron. The feel of Seth’s eyes on the back of her neck set her skin prickling. She took three deep breaths, and then she straightened.
“You don’t understand,” she said evenly. “You don’t understand me at all.”
“I do understand. You think you have to hook onto some man in order for your life to have any meaning. You think your mama rejected you, and you think God rejected you. So the only way you’re going to have a future is if you latch onto a husband. Anybody will do. You don’t think enough of yourself to believe that you could matter to another person.”
“I don’t matter to anyone.”
“You matter.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “You matter to Chipper.”
“You told me not to matter to him. You don’t want me to mean anything in his life. And now you expect me to give up the hope of marriage and a family for a five-year-old child? A child whose father plainly told me to keep my distance from the boy?”
“Arguing again, are you?” Sheena said, taking the ladle from Rosie’s hand. “Well now, that’s a good sign, so it is. But if the pair of you stand around ballyragging all evening, we’ll none of us have any supper. So come along, and put this nonsense behind you for the time being. You can go at it again later. In private.”
Sheena gave Seth an exaggerated wink, and Rosie wished she could crawl into a hole. When she glanced around she saw that Jimmy O’Toole, the five O’Toole children, Chipper, Rolf Rustemeyer, and the new visitors were all arranged in a circle, holding their bowls of stew and staring at her and Seth. Even the puppy had squatted near the fire to see what would happen.
Seth cleared his throat and grabbed his bowl. “Welcome to our guests,” he said. “Thanks to Mrs. O’Toole and Miss Mills for the supper. Thanks to Jimmy and Rolf for their help building the bridge. Let’s eat.”
“Let’s pray first,” Rosie cut in, brushing past Seth. “It’s only right. I’ll do it.”
Before she could cower in the presence of so many guests, she stepped into the middle of the circle and bowed her head. She hadn’t prayed in a very long time. Not since the Deuteronomy Sunday. But all that time, she had felt such an aching emptiness inside her heart. Now, though the words seemed difficult to form, she knew it was right to honor this special event with a prayer.
“Dear Father,” she began. Her next breath caught in the back of her throat. Father.
Father!
God was her father. Of course. She had believed it for years. She had stated it so boldly:
But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God
.
Rosenbloom Cotton Mills was not illegitimate. God himself had made her his own child.
And because ye are sons, God hath sent forth the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying, Abba, Father
.
“Dear Father,” she repeated. But the sudden knowledge of his redeeming love, his unconditional acceptance, his constant grace filled her heart. Overwhelmed her. As a joint heir with Christ, she could walk into any church with her heart full of the assurance of her heavenly Father’s eternal, unchangeable welcome.
As tears spilled down her cheeks, Rosie turned away and ran sobbing into the twilight.
R
OSIE? Rosie, where are you?” Sheena’s lilting voice called out.
Rosie blotted her cheeks with the hem of her skirt. “I’m over here, Sheena. On the big stone near the willow tree.”
“I see you now!” Puffing a little from her run, the Irishwoman lifted her skirts and clambered down the bank. “You gave us quite a scare, running off the way you did in the middle of your prayer. Sure, Seth wanted to come after you, and Rolf, too. It was all I could do to hold Chipper back. Even my Jimmy was set to hotfoot it across the prairie in search of you. You’ve earned yourself quite a gaggle of lovesick men, so you have.”
“Oh, Sheena.” Rosie scooted over on the flat stone to make room for her friend. “Don’t be silly. For all Seth has tried to accept me, he finds me as frustrating and irritating as a goat-head burr.”
“Aye, you’ve gotten under his skin, so you have. I’ll warrant the man’s in love.”
“Sheena! Please don’t tease me.” Rosie swallowed. “Anyway, I’ve seen the error of my thoughts in that direction. I’ve been looking at Seth in a human way—instead of as God sees him. Tonight—just now—my Father spoke to me, Sheena.”
“Spoke to you? Glory be, but you’re a strange wee thing, Rosie Mills. God in heaven spoke directly to you? I can’t credit it.”
“Then you’ve never experienced it.” Rosie briefly explained about the Deuteronomy Sunday and its outcome. Then she told Sheena how the moment she had called her heavenly Father by name, the meaning of the cryptic verse had become crystal clear. “When you pray, Sheena, you mustn’t do all the talking. You’ve got to listen, too. Listen to what he’s telling you.”
“But how can you be sure it’s God speaking—and not some little imp of the devil inside your head?”
“That’s easy enough. Everything God says is true. He can’t lie. Satan is the father of lies, and he finds great joy in distorting the truth. He confuses us and fills our heads with doubt and despair. But if I take what I believe God has said to me and hold it up to the Bible, it should reflect his Word. In fact, when I hear my Father’s voice, it most often comes in words straight out of the Scriptures.”
Sheena sat for a moment, pondering. “I don’t know that I’ve ever listened to God, Rosie. But I’ll try. Truly I will. And I’m thankful you’ve seen that scrap of Deuteronomy clear to its rightful meaning.”
“My greatest flaw is taking the reins of my own life and trying to guide myself. When I do, everything gets twisted, and I go off on the wrong path.”
“Do you believe God’s path led you out here to the prairie?”
“I don’t know. But I’m certain he can bring a blessing from it if I continually give myself to him.”
“Do you plan to ask God which man he wants you to marry, Rosie?”
“I can’t think about marriage, Sheena. When I do, I get so confused. I can’t see God at all. I just see myself and … and someone else.”
“Seth Hunter?”
Rosie twisted her hands together in her lap. “It should be Rolf.”
“Well now, you’ve certainly set every man’s heart aflutter with your shenanigans tonight. What do you mean to do about it, Rosie? Which one will you have? Will it be Rolf Rustemeyer? Or Seth Hunter? Or will you wait for some other man to come along?”
For a long time, Rosie sat in silence, turning the questions over and over in her mind. Finally she laid her hand across Sheena’s. “I only know one thing. I’m going to try to stop listening to my own heart and start listening to God. He knows the plans he has for me. If I care enough to follow him, I’ll find the right path.”
“You’re a good girl. Seth would do well to put his past behind him and look to his future.”
“He is thinking of his future. He cares so deeply about Chipper. He told me he didn’t want me to marry Rolf because he knows Chipper needs me right now.”
Sheena let out a squawk. “By all the goats in Kerry, girl, it’s not Chipper that needs you! It’s Seth himself, so it is.”
“I don’t see why. I’ve hardly done a thing but sew him a blue shirt and put three meals a day on his table.” Rosie searched her mind, trying to make sense of the messages she had read again and again in Seth’s blue eyes. Yes, he did seem to need her. Every time he caught her eye he seemed to be saying,
Don’t go. Don’t leave me
.
“It’s the prairie,” she said finally. “If Seth needs me at all, it’s because he understands that I can make a difference in his life out here. If I can keep the kitchen garden growing, keep Chipper healthy, keep the clothes and the bedding washed and mended, then his days will be easier. He spoke once about all the dangers he faces. Wind. Hail. Prairie fires. Plagues of insects. Cyclones. I should find a way to help … help Seth through all that. Whether he knows it or not, he does need me, Sheena. God can use me in his life.”
Sheena gave a little chuckle and shook her head. “I’ll warrant the good Lord can use you in Seth’s life—one way or another.” Standing, she gave a stretch. “Now, my sweet lass, we’d better get back to the soddy, or they’ll send a search party after the both of us, so they will.”
Filled with a new sense of mission, Rosie lifted her eyes to the heavens. God had given her five months—five months to do his will on the prairie. If her Father wanted her to have a husband, he would provide one. Until then, she must set about to do his will as a single woman in possession of a strong back, willing hands, and the determination to provide for the well-being of her employer.
