Even Rose.
Closing the door, he crossed the hall to get ready for bed.
* * *
The rooster in the chicken yard woke Rose at dawn. Barefoot and dressed in her ragged flannel nightshirt, she pattered out onto the front porch of the duplex. In the east, the unrisen sun streaked the clouds with a blush of fiery pink. An early meadowlark called from the lower pasture.
The morning air was cold enough to make her shiver. She inhaled its freshness, easing herself into the day after a night of hellish dreams that had seemed all too real.
The nightmares were nothing new. Sometimes she dreamed about Mexico and Lucho’s ugly face grinning down at her. Other times it was Ham Prescott and the awful impact of the blast striking his body, or her grandfather staggering into the cabin, barely alive. Last night’s dreams had been a kaleidoscope of memories. She’d woken with a jerk, shaking in the darkness, grateful to be awake and happy that it was almost morning.
Jasper’s truck was already gone. She knew, without looking beyond the house, that Bull’s truck would be gone, too. The roundup started at first light. And after last night’s clash, it wasn’t surprising that Bull would want to make an early getaway.
She would give him a day or two to think about the land before she cornered him again. There was always the hope that he’d come around and do the right thing. But knowing Bull, she was going to need a backup plan.
Would Ferg Prescott be part of that plan? He had offered to help her with anything she needed. She didn’t trust Ferg, but if his offer included access to legal help, she couldn’t afford to walk away—not if Bull left her with no other option.
The lights were on in the kitchen. The aromas of fresh coffee and bacon drifted on the morning breeze. Rose had planned to clean her new truck today, but it wouldn’t hurt to pitch in and offer Bernice some help, as well. It was time she started earning her keep.
She took time to make the bed, shower, and put on clean jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. The ribbon she’d used to tie back her hair was missing. Regret stabbed her as she remembered how María had given her the ribbon to wear on her sixteenth birthday. That aside, having her hair loose was a nuisance while she was working. She would have to make do without it today, or maybe find a rubber band or a length of twine in the house.
By the time she left the duplex the sun was coming up. Behind the house, she stopped to watch the chickens, scratching and pecking for grain in their fenced yard. There were about fifteen of them, their colors—blacks, reds, and rusty browns—reminding her of the birds she’d loved and nurtured as a girl, living on her land with her grandfather. She’d had other chickens in Mexico, and goats, too. She loved goats, with their wise faces and mischievous ways. Maybe when she got her land fenced, she could have chickens and goats again.
She entered the kitchen through the back door. Bull’s two sons were sitting at the table, wolfing down bacon, eggs, and pancakes swimming in maple syrup.
“Pour yourself a cup and help yourself, honey.” Bernice gave her a smile. “You’re just in time.”
“Thanks. I’m starved.” Rose filled a mug with coffee, took an empty chair, and heaped her plate. The kitchen brought back memories of the old days, when she’d made breakfast for Jasper and Bull and any hired hands that showed up. The fixtures and appliances were new, but the cozy warmth and the smells of good food were the same.
Bull’s sons studied her with curious eyes. She’d met them the night she arrived here, but only for a moment before they’d gone off to finish their homework. “Aren’t you boys going to school today?” she asked, making conversation.
“It’s Saturday. We don’t have school on Saturday. Everybody knows that.” Will’s expression was so much like his father’s that Rose had to smile.
“So what do you do on Saturdays?”
“Our dad has chores and stuff for us to do,” Beau said. “If we get done, we can ride our horses.”
“You have your own horses?”
“Uh-huh,” Beau said. “They’re ponies, not big horses. Mine’s Brownie. Will’s is Chief. We take care of them and everything.”
“So where do you go riding?” Rose hadn’t spent much time around children, but she found herself warming to Bull’s bright, handsome sons.
“Mostly just around the ranch,” Will said. “But if Jasper or one of the cowboys goes with us, we can ride into the escarpment. There are some neat canyons there. Some even have Indian drawings on the walls.”
“But we can’t go there today.” Beau nibbled on a strip of bacon. “All the men are on the roundup, and our dad doesn’t let us go without a grown-up.”
“Dad says that next year, when I’m ten, I can help with the roundup,” Will said. “But this year I have to stay home with the baby.”
“I’m not a baby!” Beau’s hand clenched his fork in an angry grip. “I can do anything you can do!”
“That’s enough, boys,” Bernice warned. “Unless you want to spend the day in time-out, you can learn to get along.”
Rose speared a second pancake and doused it with syrup. “I want to do my share w
hile I’m here,” she said to Bernice. “How can I help you today?”
Bernice was cleaning the cast-iron pancake griddle with a paper towel. She paused. “I can handle the housework fine. But with a mountain of bread and cake to bake for the roundup celebration tonight, chasing after these boys will be more than I can do. If you could keep an eye on them and maybe help them with their chores—”