Valentine's Rose (11 page)

“Be fitting a lady,” Rose echoed. An unhappy look returned to eyes. “Aye, that’s what I’ll do, then, while you’re gone. I’ll work on being fitting.”

“That’s not...” He stopped before he embarrassed her for misunderstanding the meaning of his words. Her lack of education wasn’t her fault. In fact, he suspected she’d be quick to learn. Sadly, he wouldn’t be around to be her teacher.

“Sweet Rose, you don’t have to work at being fitting. Just be yourself and you’ll be fine. Everyone loves you just the way you are.”

Her expression turned reproachful. “Not everyone.”

––––––––

T
wo days later...

“Don’t worry, Rose, you’ll learn. Let’s try again.”  Susannah offered Rose her arm and escorted her into the dining room. “At a dinner party, the most distinguished gentleman—in this case, let’s pretend it’s your husband, will escort the lady of the house—that’s you—to her seat.”

Susannah stopped at the middle of the table. “Here is where you will sit, and your husband will sit opposite. If there are no servants to serve food, he will serve the plates, there at his right, and you will preside over tea and sauces.”

“Sauces...” Rose repeated. She searched the forest of tableware to locate what Susannah had called a sauceboat. She would become a fitting lady if it killed her—and it just might.

She rubbed at a spot on her temple, which had started throbbing after two days of cramming her head full of etiquette and protocol. At least it kept her busy while Val was away, checking the property and drilling in search of coal. She was dead certain he had the easier job.

Charm, attended by Delilah, and Prudence, with Danny as her escort, took their seats around the table. Susannah had insisted on having her son present, so he could learn proper manners as well. The three ladies had asked to join in on the lessons, which Rose was sure had more to do with being entertained than learning.

Everyone, save her, seemed to know the proper customs and manners, things Rose hadn’t been taught. Oh, her mother and Da had insisted on good behavior, but this was different. Some rules attached to being a lady were ridiculous. Keeping one’s bonnet on in the house when visiting, but not if staying the night. Using one hand to lift the side of her skirt slightly above the ankle when crossing a street. Apparently, keeping the hem of a perfectly good dress out of the mud using
both
hands was considered vulgar rather than practical.

Susannah pulled out her seat opposite, between Charm and Danny. Rose, sitting between Delilah and Prudence, stared in dismay at all the glassware and utensils. “Why are there so many glasses and forks and spoons and such? What’s the sense in putting everything you own out at once? Just means more to clean.”

“Rose, honey,
you
won’t be cleaning them,” Delilah drawled.

“She means your husband will employ kitchen staff,” Prudence added. “If he can’t afford servants, he won’t be able to buy you all this,” she indicated the tableware with a sweeping motion of her hand, “so you won’t have to clean it.”

Rose liked the Iowa farm girl’s practicality. She also admired Prudence’s ability in the kitchen, which she’d demonstrated by helping Mrs. Fry with the refreshments for the wedding, as well as the evening meals. Being plain, she declared, wouldn’t matter out here, not after the men tasted her cooking. 

“Whether or not you have servants is beside the point,” Susannah said. “Given Mr. Valentine’s background and family, you’ll be attending dinner functions and hosting them, so you’ll want to know proper etiquette to avoid embarrassment.”

Susannah spent the next hour explaining which things were used for what, and proper table manners, and the things you could talk about, like weather, and things you shouldn’t talk about, like politics. “The discussion of emotional topics at dinnertime upsets digestion,” she explained.

Rose shook her head, puzzled. “My Da had always had a good appetite when he got all wound up over local politics.”

“Political intrigue does tend to get the stomach juices flowing,” Charm acknowledged.

“It is also impolite to talk about bodily functions at the dinner table,” Susannah added.

“And don’t forget, avoid sneezing, coughing and—” Charm scrunched her nose and waved her hand in front of it, “—expelling gas.”

Danny went into a fit of laughter.

His mother pushed back her chair and stood. “Let’s move onto other topics.”

With effort, Rose restrained the urge to join Danny laughing. She scooted her chair back, and then realized, upon Susannah’s pointed look, she should’ve waited for her
husband
to assist her. “How about something fun, like dancing?”

They’d no sooner moved the furniture aside than someone began knocking on the door. Mrs. Fry went to answer, and in a few moments, she returned with a soldier in tow.

“Ladies, this is Lieutenant Goldman.”

Had Rose not clapped eyes on Val first, she would’ve said the sandy-haired officer was the handsomest man she’d seen since arriving. He didn’t exceed her in height, but appeared taller because he stood so straight.

“Lieutenant, may I introduce Mrs. Valentine, Mrs. Braddock, Miss Walker and...” their hostess hesitated until she spotted Delilah, who’d faded into the far shadows at the end of the dining room. “Miss Bodean.”

Delilah murmured a greeting, keeping her scarred cheek turned to the wall. The officer’s gaze lingered, becoming speculative. Of course he’d notice Delilah’s beauty. But how would he react if he saw the ravaged side of her face? Even if he weren’t unkind, she still wouldn’t want him staring at her.

Rose broke the awkward silence. “How can we help you, Lieutenant?”

The officer removed his hat. “You’re Mrs. Valentine? Where can I find your husband?”

“He’s out at the claim, said he’d be back within the week.” Rose hesitated. Asking what business the officer had with Val was impolite, but making sure her husband wasn’t in trouble was more important than being polite. “Is there something I should tell him?”

“You can tell him Mr. Jarvis has been arrested for making threats.”

“Threats?”

“Death threats against him and Mr. Hardt.”

The blood left Rose’s face. Susannah put her arm around Danny shoulders, drawing him closer. Concern was reflected on every face in the room.

“There’s no need to worry,” Lieutenant Goldman assured Rose. “We’ve got Mr. Jarvis locked up. Just tell your husband we need a statement from him.”

“Can you assign soldiers to protect him in the meantime?”

The officer shook his head. “My men are spread too thin to provide personal protection to individuals.”

Rose worried her lower lip. She hated the thought of Val being out there alone, even if he had ordered her to wait until he returned.

“Mrs. Valentine, if it will put your mind at ease, I’ll stop by and check on him,” the officer said in a gentler tone.

Grateful, Rose smiled. “It would ease my mind, thank you.”

Lieutenant Goldman tipped his head in a grave nod. “Pleased to be of service.”

Susannah put her finger to her mouth like she’d just thought of something. “Would you happen to know the quadrille, Lieutenant?”

After the officer recovered from his surprise, he eyed her quizzically. “Yes, ma’am. I’m familiar with the quadrille.”

“And the waltz?”

“That, too.”

“What about the polka, the gallop...?”

Rose smiled broadly.
Finally
, a man Susannah found interesting, and good for her, she wasn’t letting proper manners stand in way of getting to know him.

The lieutenant appeared to realize the same thing at the same moment. He fiddled with a corded hatband, seemed a bit nervous. Or maybe he was shy. At least he didn’t turn and run. “Yes, Mrs. Braddock, I know how to dance.”

“Excellent. Could you spare a few minutes to partner with Mrs. Valentine and help us teach her some of the steps? She’s eager to learn and I’m a poor substitute for her husband.”

That’s
why Susannah wanted him to stay?

The lieutenant’s sandy eyebrows arched; he’d been equally surprised. But he stopped toying with his hat and his tense posture relaxed. Every sign pointed to relief. “It would be my pleasure.”

Rose heaved a disappointed sigh. Those two would’ve made pretty children.

She went along with her friend’s suggestion, not because she was interested in dancing with the lieutenant. She’d rather dance with her husband. Before she could do that, however, she had to finish her lessons.

––––––––

S
ix days later...

“Thank you ever so much for the ride, Mr. Sprouse!” Rose waved to the farmer as he turned the mule team around and drove them up the narrow, rutted road. She was glad to be out of that wagon. Her insides felt rearranged by the constant jolting.

Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage and her new satchel and set off down a footpath carved through the tall grass. The spindly stalks reached her shoulders, and would grow higher before they were done. She’d never seen grass grow this high.

According to the farmer, the path led to the house Val had been living in for more than a week. He’d told her he would be drilling to collect samples, looking for coal—his black gold.

She had done as he asked and waited, although each day dragged into the next, made all the worse by her longing for him. Did he long for her? Had she invaded his thoughts a thousand times a day, as he had hers? Regardless, she refused to be ignored any longer.

Rose breathed in the rich, earthy fragrance and ran a gloved hand over the tops of the slender, swaying stalks, which in summer would bloom purplish blue.
Turkey Foot
, the farmer had called it, aptly named for the grass’s three-pronged tops. Prairie chickens and songbirds loved the seeds. Overhead, a red-tailed hawk circled, as if to see if she might be something tasty, and then flew off in search of smaller prey. She could understand why the posters called this paradise.  The land looked untouched since the time of creation.

The path took a turn and the leafy tops of trees became visible over the grass. Mr. Sprouse had told her the homestead was built near a creek, and she’d know she was getting close when she saw the post oaks. Her heart beat faster and she picked up her pace, having no problem walking in the new shoes she’d obtained, thanks to the kind shopkeeper.

She couldn’t wait to show off what she’d learned. More than that, she wanted to show Val how much she missed him and turn this pretend marriage into a real one. Now that she’d become a lady, he would have no reason to leave her behind.

The grass ended at a clearing.

She frowned at the sight greeting her. That wasn’t a house. It was tarpaper box with a slanted roof covered with more tarpaper. Nothing grew in the bare dirt around the shanty, although it appeared someone had started a garden of rubbish. Not as bad as the garbage overflowing the alley behind the apartment building in Five Points, but foreign refuse looked obscene out here in this pristine wilderness. She walked past the trash, looking askance at a pile of cans, which according to the labels had contained beans.

Was that all her husband had been eating?

“Val?” she called out. Her voice bounced back from a nearby copse of trees.

The buckboard wagon he’d rented held a load of rocks and dirt. Concealed beneath the seat were his drills and shovels and what looked like a large blade that might fit a plow. There was the horse, contentedly grazing in a field of shorter grass. Val had to be around somewhere.

“Hello? Anyone here?” Rose approached the door, little more than a wooden frame with more tarpaper attached, held up by leather hinges. Her hand trembled as she reached for a piece of rope hanging from a small hole, which she assumed was attached to a latch inside. Even with Jarvis in jail, there were other dangers, like animals. Or Val might’ve come down ill...

A flock of birds burst from the trees, twittering, and her nerves jumped. Something moved within the grove; a shadow appeared, and the shadow became a man.

She caught a sharp breath as Val emerged from the trees, his upper half bare.

He didn’t see her because he was looking down at the ground, lost in thought. His trousers hung low on his hips, suspenders dangling, and he carried his shirt slung over his shoulder. His hair looked jet black and dripped water. He must’ve bathed in the creek.

Her stomach did a slow flip. She curled her fingers, eager to explore the sprinkling of dark hair across his chest, follow the thin line that arrowed down his abdomen and discover the secrets he’d hidden from her.

“Val?”

He looked up with surprise and halted, staring at her like she was a ghost. Dark bristles covered the lower half of his face. The half-grown beard gave him a rakish handsomeness.

“Rose?” His voice quavered, and an answering shiver ran through her.

She dropped her satchel and raced to meet him. He met her halfway. As she threw her arms around his neck, he lifted her by the waist. Their mouths collided.

He kissed her with the frantic desperation of a man who’d been deprived of the essentials in life, like food and water, and held her so close not even a blade of grass could fit between them. The kiss went from awkward to searching to deeply satisfying.

She’d hoped he would be pleased to see her, but his reaction exceeded her dreams. He couldn’t kiss her like this and then let her go. Her heart soared as high as those birds winging into the sky.

The first thing that brought her back to earth, the bristles on his face began to burn the skin around her mouth. She drew back and reached up to his jaw, ran her fingers over the stiff, half-grown beard. “I like the way it looks more than the way it feels.”

He blinked at her like she’d cracked him on the head. Then his brows gathered in a frown. He grasped her arms and moved her away, his surprised gaze sweeping her, top to bottom. “What are you doing out here?”

“Coming to see you.” Smiling, she wound her arms around his neck.

He removed them, a flicker of regret in his eyes. “It’s not safe—”