Valentine's Rose (10 page)

The slight twinge of guilt indicated Val’s conscience had returned. He hadn’t lost his temper like that since being taunted at school. In his rage, he’d dealt the bully a serious injury. After that, he’d avoided using his fists. But he hadn’t thought twice before hammering Hardt’s face. Fortunately, Hardt wasn’t a small man, nor was he a weak one. Though his nose might’ve become weaker. “Broken?”

“Not sure yet.” Hardt’s steady gaze didn’t waver, but he leaned against the desk, like he needed propping up. He hadn’t fought back.

Val had expected him to start swinging, would’ve welcomed the battle. The surly agent didn’t strike him as a coward. That meant Hardt had chosen not to retaliate, which could be a sign of guilt...or firm control over his emotions. The kind of control Val envied as much as he despised. His father was like that. Cold. Hard. Immovable. However, his father hadn’t gone after another man’s wife, so far as Val knew.

He gripped Rose’s hand. No matter what she said, he wouldn’t trust Hardt’s intentions were pure and he would keep her as far away from the railroad agent as possible. That is, until he left. Then he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Hardt could come after her, seduce her...

Anger worked its way up Val’s neck and into his jaw. He bit down, fighting the urge to turn around and charge Hardt, drive him over the desk and force him to fight.

Rose stroked her hand down his arm, a light, gentle touch. That got his attention as nothing else could have. “We should leave together.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. She was right, of course. He couldn’t send her home alone, knowing Jarvis lurked out there somewhere and might harm her to get at him. He circled a protective arm around her waist and led her outside.

Later, he would deal with Hardt—when he wasn’t in the mood to kill him.

Val walked arm-in-arm with Rose, in silence, all the while keeping a sharp lookout for the man who’d uttered threats against him. He would finish his business here quickly, and avoid trouble unless it came looking for him. In the meantime, he had to convince Rose to keep her distance and stay indoors. Locked in the bedroom, preferably.

“I saw Mrs. Braddock and her son at the store. She said you’d gone to the railroad office to meet me. You should’ve waited until I returned, as I asked.”

Rose kept her eyes trained straight ahead. Possibly, she interpreted his concern as suspicion and petty jealousy, or she remained upset at his violent reaction. In hindsight, he should’ve taken her home and returned to thrash the scoundrel.

He would take a different approach and let her know he’d keep his word about taking care of her, in case she feared there might be some change of plan. They were in this together, after all, and the prospect of wealth should soothe her ruffled feathers.

“I’ve procured a drill to use to locate the coal deposits. If they’re there, our land will be worth a great deal. We’ll both be rich.”

“If money is all you care about, why did you attack Mr. Hardt?” Somehow she posed the question without making it sound like an accusation.

He couldn’t come up with a good reason. Jealousy wasn’t rational. Rage couldn’t be explained away, although he could beg her pardon for his woeful lack of control. “Yes, of course, you’re right. As a gentleman, I shouldn’t have brawled in front of you. I hope you’ll accept my apology.”

Rose shot him an incredulous look before returning her gaze to the fore. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“No. I haven’t got an answer.” Other than to say he’d gone mad when he’d seen Hardt touching her, and that much she knew. The very idea that he’d be able to select his replacement was ludicrous. She would have to find another husband on her own.

When they reached the hotel, he guided her up the stairs to the porch and then opened the door. Inside, delicious smells filled the air. Good, something to talk about other than his jealous rage. “Someone’s baking.”

“Aye, my stomach knows it.” Rose did manage another smile, which did something to his stomach that had nothing to do with hunger.

“Rose! You’re back.” Mrs. Braddock appeared from out of the parlor. She glanced at Val with a disapproving look he couldn’t interpret. When he’d come across her in the store, she’d also looked at him that way. Excitement returned to her face as she retrieved Rose’s arm and led her into the room off the hall. “Come in here and look at what I found.”

Val followed, curious as to what wonder awaited.

Two dresses—a light blue traveling suit and a warm brown day dress—were draped over the back of the sofa. Complementary fabric, cut in wide sections, had been pinned to the hems, extending the garments’ length.

“You didn’t return, so I had to guess on the size, but we can measure it properly, now that you’re here.” Mrs. Braddock drew out a length of lace from a wide spool. “I’ll sew this on to cover the seam at the bottom, and no one will be the wiser.”

Rose stared with disbelief, and then her eyes brimmed with tears.

Val’s gaze traveled down her shabby dress to the oversized boots and back up to her hands, which trembled as she clung to her shawl. Something hard and remorseless landed a blow just beneath his breastbone.

Of course, you fool.
That’s what they’d been doing at the store, picking out dresses for Rose. He’d berated her for leaving the hotel, when he ought to have realized she needed to go shopping and purchase new clothes to replace her tattered wardrobe. He should’ve told her she could pick out whatever she wanted. No, he should’ve gone with her.

He wanted to tell her he was sorry for being such an ass. He’d repeatedly wounded her tender heart, had behaved like a boor. He was a terrible husband and poor provider.

That would change. From this moment, he would do everything in his power to make her life easier and better, so that when he left, she would be happy and content. He wouldn’t be either one, but he had no right to be. Never had this been more apparent than it was now.

***

A
fter the noon meal, Val escorted Rose back into town. He’d promised to spend the afternoon with her before he set out for the property. That was the least he could do, considering how shabbily he’d treated her.

As they walked, he kept an eye out for Jarvis. He anticipated the sore loser would at some point strike back. Given his nature, sniveling and cowardly, he wouldn’t attack out in the open. He’d sneak up on them. Val didn’t believe he’d need the gun he had in his pocket, but he was glad it was there, all the same.

They passed men on foot, men on horseback, men driving carts and wagons. Every one of them eyed Rose like she was something rare and wondrous. They tipped their hats and many offered greetings.

She wrapped her shawl closer in a gesture that indicated nervousness. “I’m getting itchy with all this attention.”

“They’re admiring you.”

“There’s no other women for them to ogle. They’re staring at me like I belong in a circus.”

Val put his hand over her fingers, curled tight in the crook of his arm. “If I ever meet the men responsible for making you believe that, I will gladly rearrange their faces.”

She laughed softly through her nose. “That might take some time.”

However amusing she thought his remark, he didn’t find her response funny. That was another thing he could leave her with, extra confidence in her unique loveliness. She couldn’t doubt he found her attractive. Now he would convince her that any man who had a good pair of eyes would find her attractive, too.

When he reached the cross street, he turned her to face him so she would see his sincerity. “Get used to men looking at you, Rose. You’re a beautiful woman. Once you have pretty things to wear, you’ll feel like a beautiful woman.”

She searched his eyes. Still doubting. “Are you being glib, now?”

“Does it look to you like I’m being glib?” He regarded her straight-faced.

“No, but...”

“I’ll have to convince you, then.” He turned her to face the street, and a total of four clapboard buildings. “Where shall we start? Our choices are endless.”

“Hmm.” She curled her finger at her chin as if the matter required a great deal of thought. “I do like Mr. Appleton’s General Store. He’s a friendly bloke.”

“You wouldn’t want to make me jealous again,” Val murmured near her ear.

She shot him a worried look. “Oh, Mr. Appleton isn’t interested in me. He’s sweet on Susannah.”

“I’d rather not take the chance.”

“Oh, you.” She smacked him on the arm, chastising him for teasing her, but a faint blush on her cheeks encouraged him.

“Why don’t we try Middaugh’s Dry Goods and Clothing?” He led her across the street, which ended up being easier than he thought it would be. All traffic stopped.

“Hey, how’d you get that woman?” a man called out.

“I married her,” Val replied. “You’ll have to find one of your own.”

He felt proud having Rose on his arm, despite her ugly dress. That was something he could fix easily enough. Then she wouldn’t feel so self-conscious and have to wrap that worn plaid shawl around her. He opened the door to the store and followed her inside.

She stopped and lifted her nose. “I love how it smells in here...like wool and linen and denim. When I washed folk’s new clothes, the smell would come off them.”

Rose had been a laundress. Something about her he hadn’t known, because he hadn’t bothered to ask. He wanted to learn more, at the same time he didn’t. The less he knew about her life, the easier it would be to let her go.

“Shall we see what they have?”

She looked at him askance. “I warn you, they won’t have dresses long enough.”

“Then we’ll look at fabrics and have a dress made.”

The proprietor behind the counter glanced over, saw Rose, and immediately left his customer and came their way. “Morning folks. I’m Charlie Middaugh. May I help you, Mr...?”

“Valentine,” Val supplied. “My wife needs some fabric. And we’d like to get the name of a seamstress.”

Middaugh shook his head. “Know a tailor. We don’t have any dressmakers in town. Not unless one of the women who arrived yesterday knows how to sew.”

Rose looked at Val with a hopeful expression. “Susannah knows how to sew.”

“Then I’ll pay her to make you a dress.”

They followed Mr. Middaugh to the tables where rich wool, light cotton and bright calico were wrapped on bolts. “Take your time,” he said. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Rose did take her time. She touched each fabric with reverence and appeared enraptured as she rubbed the cloth between her finger and thumb. Her utter bliss in choosing fabric, something the women he knew would take for granted, puzzled him.

“How long has it been since you’ve had new clothes?”

“My mother took in her dresses for me.”

That explained why the garments were too short.

He felt a hard tug at his heart. Not pity—this was stronger, almost violent. “No one has ever purchased a dress just for you?”

Her expression turned oddly apologetic. “Are you angry we bought those readymade dresses on your credit?”

He stared at her, surprised. That’s what she thought he meant? “No, I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with myself. I should’ve had the foresight to take you shopping.”

Rose looked relieved. “That’s all right, I didn’t mind waiting.”

In other words, she hadn’t expected him to be thoughtful. Why should she? He’d told her he was leaving her, hadn’t seen to her basic needs and he’d attacked a man for helping her. He’d never felt more ashamed.

He spied a lady’s straw hat on display nearby. Adorned with pink and white lace and silk red roses, it was pretty and feminine without being overly fussy—like Rose. Lifting it with care, he positioned it on his wife’s head and tied the lace ribbon to one side of her chin. Then he took hold of an oval mirror on a stand and held it up.

He grinned at the awestruck joy that lit up her face. “You like it?”

“Oh Val, it’s...it’s beautiful!”

“Then it’s yours.”

Doubt flickered across her face. “Are you sure? We...we can afford it?”

“Of course we can.” He’d put it on credit, or sell his pocket watch if he had to, but he would not leave until he’d purchased Rose a proper wardrobe. “Every lady needs a hat.”

Her delighted smile took his breath away.

“I’ve never had a pretty hat. Always wore scarves or my mother’s bonnets. I can’t thank you enough...” She turned her head to look from other angles. He moved the mirror obligingly. He’d bought hats for women before, but never had he taken such pleasure in the gift or been so humbled by gratitude.

Rose took nothing for granted. He’d taken everything for granted—even her.

He set the mirror aside and gathered her hands. “I want you to have nice things.”

The adoration she showered on him made his stomach clench. Thankfully, he would be gone before she discovered he wasn’t God.

Her smile wavered. “I wish I could give you something.”

“You have.”

“What are you talking about? I haven’t given you anything.”

“For one, the pleasure of your company, happiness in seeing your joy, pride in showing off a beautiful wife...and a brand new perspective. Because of you, I’m learning to be grateful.”

Her lips parted and her eyes widened in amazement.

“Those are the things you’ve given me just today.”

She curled her fingers around his hands, a sweet trusting gesture. “If it’s not too much, I’d like to ask for one more thing.”

“I’ll grant it, if it’s in my power to do so.”

Rose lifted her head and begged him with her eyes. “Take me with you.”

The mere suggestion sent his pulse racing off at a gallop. Safety aside, he couldn’t be alone with his wife for a week. Not even for a single night. He would ruin her, and then he’d abandon her, and then he’d have fallen lower than he had ever fallen in his miserable life.

This was one request he couldn’t grant even if it meant going back on his word.

“I’m sorry, I can’t risk your safety. You must wait for me here, in town. With luck, I’ll be gone less than a week.” He squeezed her hands and placed an affectionate kiss on her forehead so she wouldn’t think he didn’t want to be with her. He wanted that very much...too much.  “While I’m away, have Susannah make you a dress befitting a lady.”