Sixty Acres and a Bride (19 page)

Eliza dropped onto the bed with her arms crossed. “Hold your horses. What’s all that have to do with her wedding? Why don’t you just start over?”

And so he did, between bites of sausage and eggs, but the retelling didn’t put much shine on him. How had he let them get so desperate? Eliza seconded his thoughts.

“Today is August the fifteenth? That’s right. They had to have the money today,” she said. “Why didn’t I check up on them? How scared they must have been!”

Weston grunted. “And I actually caught Tillerton lurking around their place a few weeks ago. Rosa was terrified. I didn’t even ask if he had been there before.” Wes wouldn’t rest easy until she was under his roof. He’d already had his suspicions about the man. Who knew what he was capable of?

“She probably wouldn’t have told you, anyway,” Jake reassured them. “She doesn’t want to cause trouble for anyone.”

“Well, looks like she has, whether she meant to or not,” Eliza said. “It doesn’t sound like Tillerton to threaten her, but if she stands between him and the land, maybe he’s not using his best judgment. She needs to have a husband’s protection.”

A husband’s protection. Those words rang in Weston’s ears all the long buggy ride to her house. What good had a husband’s protection done Cora? His failure had devastated her whole family. Was it fair to involve another innocent woman before he was ready?

Weston wasn’t one for rushing into things, especially not something this big. At every boundary line he questioned whether he was making the right decision. He didn’t know if he could risk his heart again, but he cared enough about Rosa to protect her. That would have to suffice for now, because in a way, God had taken it out of his hands. He couldn’t call himself a gentleman and refuse to offer her his name—not in the position she found herself. Besides, the last month had been torture. Perhaps his heart was lost already.

Then again, she might refuse him. She only bargained on giving him sixty acres, not a bride.

From her room, Rosa heard Louise’s greeting. “Land sakes, come in, come in. Weston, Eliza, and Jake—you’re all here! What a joyous company you make. And Wes, you’re all dressed up to go to town. How handsome you look! Rosa! Come down. They’re here.”

She checked her reflection in the hand mirror one last time and descended the stairs.

The scene in the parlor was a lot to take in. Louise, still flushed from the joy of their victory, exclaimed over all the young people, while Mary sat in shock on the piano stool, finally aware of Rosa’s whereabouts last night. A moment’s guilt crossed her heart, but Rosa shook it off. Today she would celebrate.

Eliza kissed Mary’s cheek and patted her shoulder. Even she seemed to be in a tizzy over the last night’s activities. Rosa was possibly the calmest of the bunch. To be truthful, she felt like dancing, but she wouldn’t dishonor her beautiful rose gown with such immature behavior.

Rosa didn’t know who marked her entrance first, but sound and movement ceased in the crowded room. She looked from face to face in wonder. What was wrong with them?

Jake’s mouth hung open, and Eliza’s hand went to her throat. Weston stood frozen except for his Adam’s apple, which bounced a few times before he could swallow successfully.

Rosa checked her black hair, still damp from her hurried washing. It was drawn up in a complicated twist that left her neck exposed all the way to her perfectly fitted bodice. She’d remembered her corset, so what were they staring at?

Louise recovered first. “You are beautiful.”

“Amen!” Jake added. “We knew you were a pretty girl, but have mercy.”

Eliza had yet to look away. “That color, Rosa. It’s so rich, and the way it reflects off your complexion . . .” She looked to Weston and burst into tears.

“What’s got into her?” Mary asked. “Have y’all gone mad?”

“No, ma’am,” Jake answered. “Eliza’s been emotional lately. It’s her delicate condition, you know. She’ll be fine.” He turned to Weston and patted him on the back. “You’re up, partner,” and propelled him to the center of the room.

Their strange behavior confused Rosa, and she wasn’t the only one. Mary frowned stiffly, while Louise smiled at Weston as if he were Sam Houston reincarnated.

Weston cleared his throat. “Mrs. Garner and I will go to Lockhart to pay the taxes this morning. I can’t tell you how much I regret not intervening sooner. I, ah, should have stayed in touch, but there’s no way to change that. We have to move forward.” He looked over his shoulder at Jake, who nodded his encouragement. “So, before we leave, I would like to ask Mrs. Garner if she would do me the honor of becoming my wife . . . today.”

From behind him came a terse whisper. “On your knee!”

“Drats!” He dropped to one knee before Rosa and took her hand.

She tried in vain to snatch it back. The spiffy man before her was unfamiliar, spouting nonsense. Where was the tender man who had wakened her that morning? Where was the rancher? Her friend?

“I don’t blame you for being startled. That was rather abrupt. Let me try again. I would be honored if you would consent—”

“You can’t be serious!” Rosa said.

Weston frowned. “But I am, I assure you. You were observed leaving this morning, so we must get married—with haste.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Louise’s tremulous smile threatened to unnerve her.

What kind of question was that? Married to Weston? Not like this. Not now.

“I asked him for a loan, that’s all. We never spoke about marriage.”

“But it has to happen,” Louise said. “Weston here is a gentleman and will make a fine husband.”

Rosa tore her hand away from him as he stood. Why was Louise accepting this arrangement? Had she anticipated Weston’s offer? Oh no. What had Rosa led him into?

“Don’t act shocked now, Rosa.” Mary hopped off the piano stool. “No one’s going to believe you weren’t party to this. What does it mean in Mexico when you spend the night with a man? You got what you were after. You saved your ranch. Weston’s the only one with reason to protest.”

Rosa felt her face blazing, humiliation turning into anger. “Ridículo! I didn’t do anything wrong. We need money. You all know that. It’s the only reason I went—for the ranch. You have to believe me.” She scanned the room—Jake, Mary, Weston, even Eliza—no one would look her in the face.

“But last night,” Louise said, “we talked about Ruth and Boaz. I thought you’d decided to do like she did and get a husband.”

“Ruth and Boaz? Was that your intent all along?” Weston’s face turned as white as a corpse. Only the thought of being shackled to her could cause a man such distress.

“No!” Rosa turned to Louise. “You can’t force another man to marry me. I won’t do it.”

“But what can I do?” Louise wrung her hands. “Mary’s right. I can’t go against propriety, not now that you’ve been compromised. Maybe it won’t be so bad. If he didn’t want you he would have sent you home.”

Louise’s words cut through her like a dagger.

She’d had enough. Turning, Rosa ran up the stairs as fast as her gown would allow. They were all family. They were adults. Let them figure out what to do. As far as she was concerned, Louise could sleep in George and Mary’s outhouse. Rosa wasn’t responsible for her any longer.

She would find a way back to Ciauhtlaz and never return. She’d worked so hard to be a proper lady, only to stumble into this. Embarrassment burned her face, angry tears caught in her throat.

She barreled through her room. Finding nothing else to throw, Rosa flung herself on the bed, hid her face, and didn’t look up, even when she heard the deep voice in her open doorway.

“You’re going to muss your new dress.”

“I don’t care! I’m not going anywhere.”

She could sense Weston coming closer. What she wouldn’t give for a lock on the door.

“Is this your bag?”

Who else’s would it be? But she refused to answer. The clasp snapped open on the bed next to her.

“Looks like we’re in a mess, doesn’t it?” he said.

“You’re not! You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes I do. I made a mistake letting you stay last night.”

“If he didn’t want you, he would have sent you home.”
She cringed at the words, face still hidden in her pillow. This time she had no romantic notions clouding her thinking. Mack had flirted with her—raised her hopes. Weston wanted nothing to do with her.

“But we talked about the land—about saving our ranch. Just a business deal.”

“Most business deals are discussed during business hours while both parties are awake.”

She peeked around her pillow and saw him gather every piece of clothing hanging on the pegs, every piece except her black mourning gown.

“We need to go if we’re going to make it to the courthouse on time,” he said. “I’ll make sure the deed remains in Louise’s and your name. My name won’t be attached.”

“What about the marriage?”

“Definitely more complicated. That document will make mention of me.” He looked behind him. “If you’ll tell me where your unmentionables are, I’ll pack those, too.”

She threw her pillow in his direction and then locked her arms over her head. How could he act as if this didn’t bother him? Why was he giving up his freedom so easily?

Not her. Not again.

“Let people say what they want about last night,” she said. “I’d rather have a ruined reputation because of one night than force you into lifelong retribution. Besides, half the women at church predicted I’d disgrace the family. No one will be surprised.” Her bottom lip trembled, so she bit it. She would not cry, not with Weston being so . . . so . . . reasonable about everything.

“I talked to Willie this morning. He had an interesting story to tell. Seems like you had another way to save your farm, after all.” The rocker creaked as Weston eased into it. “Rosa, would you please sit up and look at me? I need to know something. We’re getting hitched today either way, but I want you to tell me the truth.”

She pushed herself up, hoping she wasn’t committing to anything by complying. He rose enough to pick the pillow up off the floor, drop it on the bed, and then wait with his elbows on his knees until she was ready.

“What is it?”

Weston’s eyes filled with compassion. She couldn’t take out her frustration on him. Not with all he’d done for her.

“Downstairs Louise said you had some plan to secure my help. I need to know, when you came to me last night, did you think I would make you the same offer Tillerton did?”

Rosa looked away, but not fast enough. She couldn’t stop the blush from burning her face. She suddenly became aware of their location, her bed and her clothing stuffed in the open valise.

“No! Never! You would never ask me to do that. And now, because of me, you feel forced to ruin your life, but you don’t have to. You have to believe me. I didn’t trick you, or trap you, despite what Louise says.” She grasped her quilt in iron fists. “I had no idea how the story ended. It was in the Bible, so I thought it’d be all right to go to you and ask for help. I never meant to take advantage of you. Let’s go to Lockhart, pay the taxes, and come back—unmarried. Mary can’t force us. We must be firm.”

“If I didn’t respect you, nothing Mary could do would force me to marry you.”

Rosa pulled back. “So now you want to marry me? Odd, since you haven’t wanted to speak to me since Independence Day.”

He looked away. What did she expect him to say? The truth certainly wasn’t pretty.

“Regardless, you’re in danger here—not just your reputation, but your safety, as well. I think you and I are the only people who’ve seen Jay Tillerton as he is. The best protection I can offer you is my name.”

“But then the marriage can be temporary, right? We’ll get it canceled after the gossip dies down.”

He stood, dwarfing her tiny room. “I take my vows seriously. We’re saving you from disgrace, not increasing it.”

But was there any disgrace greater than having a man who didn’t want you? She didn’t know what he expected from a wife—this kind of wife, anyway. They needed to be candid.

“I’ve married for convenience before. Mack was a good man, a great friend. . . .” She took her pillow and hugged it to her. “But I couldn’t make him love me. I gave him everything, and still he never loved me. He never allowed me in. And then, at the mine . . .” She paused.

She’d never told anyone this. In the chaos, even Louise had missed her son’s last act. “When he stumbled out, I was right there, relieved he’d been spared, but he ran past me to another. Nenetl was her name. He gave her his necklace, a charm he’d carved for weeks. I waited, but he didn’t even look my way. I never saw him alive again.”

Weston rose and picked up her flute from the table. The clay pipe looked so fragile in his hands. “I can’t promise you love, but I can promise you faithfulness. I can promise you’ll never have to pretend with me. You’ll never have to give more than you’re ready for.” He wrapped the flute in a shawl and gently placed it in the valise before continuing.

“You know, I determined to never remarry. Last night changed the situation, but it didn’t change me. God could heal me—He could make me hope for more—but it hasn’t happened yet. Frankly, I’m terrified. I gave my heart once, too, and it wasn’t enough.”