For the Roses
“No,” she assured her.
Eleanor agreed. “Do I have to sit there alone?”
Mary Rose looked around her for someone to keep Eleanor company. Harrison became her only candidate for the task, but only because he was the slowest one getting away. Cole had already reached the main barn, and both Travis and Douglas were hot on his heels.
Harrison didn’t particularly want the duty, but he was gallant enough to do as Mary Rose asked.
He made her beg first, however, which she thought was extremely rude of him.
She had to chase after him too. “Will you slow down?” she demanded when she finally reached his side. “Why are you frowning like that?”
“I was concerned about you,” he admitted. “You shouldn’t have gotten inside. She had a gun, Mary Rose. You could have been hurt. She already shot at Clive,” he reminded her.
“Eleanor wouldn’t hurt me, or anyone else for that matter. She’s afraid, Harrison. She’s had a bad time lately. Be kind to her.”
Harrison knew he was going to have to be a gentleman about this. He shouted to Douglas to come and get MacHugh, and when the brother arrived, he followed Mary Rose over to the porch.
She was finally able to go inside the house. Adam was in the library, sitting behind his desk. He was diligently working on one of his ledgers and didn’t notice her standing in the doorway for a minute or two.
She patiently waited, and all the while she fought the tears gathering in her eyes.
She finally gave up trying to remain composed. She was fighting the inevitable, after all. For as long as she could remember, she’d been disgustingly predictable. Regardless of the severity of the insult or injury done to her, she could always control herself and maintain her dignity until she got home and spotted her oldest brother.
Then she would fall apart.
Today she proved to be as predictable as a downpour during a picnic. All it took was for Adam to notice her.
“Oh, sister, what happened to you?”
Mary Rose promptly burst into tears and threw herself into her big brother’s arms.
February 13, 1864
Dear Mama Rose,
We just finished poring over a month-old newspaper Travis traded some skins for up near Perry, and a gentleman by the name of Benson reprinted Lincoln’s speech he made in Gettysburg. We had already read about the battle there back in July, where so many brave men gave their lives. Benson said our President made the speech on the site of the cemetery he dedicated on the site of the battlefield. Adam wept when he read the words, and he copied it all down just right so we could send it to you.
Cole thinks you’ve probably already read it, Mama, but we all think it’s too important not to read at least twice.
You and Lincoln are in our prayers.
Douglas
8
Mary Rose threw herself into Adam’s arms and wept like a little girl. He put his arms around her and patted her until she calmed down. It took her several minutes to regain control. Then she sat on the edge of the desk and poured her heart out. She told him all the horrid details of everything that had happened to her in town. She lingered over the Catherine Morrison episode. Adam examined her injuries while he listened, calmed her with his gentle voice as he said, “Is that so?” over and over again. In no time at all she was feeling fine again.
Her brother took her to the kitchen and washed her face so he could get a better look at the wounds to determine if stitches were going to be necessary. She held her breath until she heard the verdict, then smiled with relief over his decision. Stitches weren’t needed after all.
She was finally ready to get on with the business of the day. She started to give Adam his handkerchief back, noticed it was soaked with tears and old blood, and tossed it into the laundry basket instead.
Her brother suggested she go upstairs and get cleaned up. He returned to the library to finish his work. “Relax this afternoon, Mary Rose. You’ve had enough excitement.”
She chased after him. She couldn’t pamper herself with a bath as long as Eleanor was sitting on the front porch fretting. She needed to get her settled in, and then she was going to take the supplies she’d purchased to Corrie. She had made the woman a promise to return today, and Mary Rose didn’t want to break her word.
“I’ve indulged myself in childish self-pity long enough,” she told her brother. She stood in the doorway and watched Adam take his seat behind his desk once again. She noticed the ledgers were open, knew then she was interrupting his work, but decided he was just going to have to be patient a little longer. The books could wait. Eleanor couldn’t.
“Don’t forget to put some medicine on those cuts.”
“I won’t forget,” she said. “We need to talk about Eleanor now. She’s waiting on the porch. I told her she couldn’t come inside until you gave permission. Will you talk to her ... in private? She wants to tell you what happened to her before you make up your mind to let her stay or not.”
Adam was surprised by the request. “In all of your life, have you ever known me to send anyone away?”
“No, but Eleanor’s a different situation. She’s going to throw the family into chaos for a little while. Are you in the mood to put up with her?”
“What about your brothers? Shouldn’t they have a say?”
“They’ll do whatever you think is right,” she countered. “Cole will be difficult, of course, but he’ll figure out a way to avoid her until she settles down.”
Adam leaned back in his chair and gave his sister a speculative look. “Exactly how long is Eleanor going to be staying with us?”
She couldn’t look at him when she gave her answer. “For a spell.”
“Is that right? And exactly how long is ‘a spell,’ Mary Rose?”
She shrugged. “I wish I knew,” she whispered. “Talk to her, please? She’s scared. She needs a safe place.”
Adam let out a sigh. He stood up and came around the desk. “All right,” he agreed. “Go on upstairs now. I’ll take care of Eleanor. Her last name is ... ?”
“Border,” Mary Rose answered. “Shouldn’t I stay down here while you talk to her?”
Adam shook his head. “That isn’t necessary.”
She started up the stairs to the second floor. Adam was almost to the front door when she turned and called out to him.
“I want to make certain she . . .”
He turned around and looked up at her. “She what?”
“Apologizes to you. She insulted you, Adam, and I don’t want her to come inside my house until she tells you she’s sorry.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, go on upstairs. You’re giving me a headache. I’ll deal with Eleanor.”
Adam opened the screen door. Eleanor was sitting in one of the wicker chairs talking to Harrison. Their other houseguest wasn’t sitting. He was leaning against the post with his arms folded across his chest, looking both irritated and bored.
Adam waited until Eleanor had finished complaining to Harrison about the heat.
“Miss Border, will you come inside to the library with me? I’d like to talk to you.”
He raised an eyebrow over her reaction to his request. He hadn’t raised his voice, but she acted as though he’d just shouted at her. She jumped to her feet so quickly, she toppled over her chair in the process.
Harrison reached down and straightened the chair back up again.
Eleanor started toward Adam, then suddenly stopped. She clasped her hands together. “I can’t come inside, Mr. Clayborne.”
“You can’t? Why not?” Adam asked.
“Mary Rose told me I couldn’t until I apologize to you. I’m sorry, truly sorry, if you were offended. I didn’t believe that horrible driver. I thought he was lying to me so he could get rid of me. I certainly didn’t wish to give you the impression that because you’re . . . you know, well, that I couldn’t . . . because that wasn’t it at all. I didn’t even believe that man had driven me to Mary Rose’s house.”
She eventually had to pause for breath. Adam hadn’t blinked an eye during her explanation. Harrison was impressed. He couldn’t stop smiling. He wanted to ask her to explain exactly what Adam was, just to watch her squirm, but because he was a gentleman, he didn’t give in to the urge.
Cole didn’t have any such reservations. Being a gentleman obviously didn’t rank high on his list. He had just reached the steps leading up to the porch when Eleanor started her convoluted apology.
“Adam’s a ‘you know’? What’s that?” he asked her.
She turned to frown at the brother. “I was apologizing because I didn’t believe Adam was Mary Rose’s brother. She only told me she had four older brothers and a mama who lived in the South somewhere, but she never gave me any details. I will admit, I never asked.”
She paused to look Cole up and down. “Your sister was obviously jesting with me in the stagecoach when she said you and the other two were just like Adam. You aren’t, of course.”
She dismissed the brother from her thoughts then and there and turned back to Adam. “May I still come inside, sir?”
“Please,” Adam said. “You’re welcome to stay with us.”
“Wait a minute. I still want to know . . .”
“Let it go, Cole,” Adam suggested. His tone didn’t leave room for argument.
Eleanor walked over to the doorway. She waved her hand in Harrison’s direction, in an action that reminded him of England’s queen.
“Fetch my bags out of the dirt and put them in my room,” she commanded.
Cole grinned at Harrison. He smiled back at the brother. Then Harrison turned to Eleanor. “Sorry, Miss, but I can’t fetch for you,” he announced. “I’m not allowed on the second floor.”
Harrison went down the steps. “Guess that leaves you to do the fetching,” he drawled out on his way past the brother.
“Be sure to dust them off before you bring them inside, Kyle,” she commanded.
Harrison heard a blasphemy and decided then and there that the day was beginning to look better. He spotted Douglas running out of the barn. MacHugh was chasing him. The stallion was obviously in one of his moods and was taking his bad temper out on the brother. Yes, sir, the day was looking better and better.
“Adam, I want to talk to you about something important,” Cole called out. He had to shout at his brother so he’d hear him above Harrison’s laughter.
Adam let Eleanor walk past him before answering Cole. “I won’t be long,” he promised.
“What do you need to do?”
“Talk to Miss Border,” he answered. “It shouldn’t take any time at all.”
Adam was partially correct in his estimation. The talk with Eleanor didn’t take any time at all. It took three long hours.
The private discussion started out strained. An hour later Adam found himself in the most ludicrous position of getting the front of his shirt all wet again. Eleanor turned out to be a little like Mary Rose. After vehemently insisting she never, ever cried, she wept all over him.
Cole got tired of waiting for Adam to finish up. He was determined to talk to him about Harrison. Finding out their houseguest was an attorney had rattled him. He wanted to get Adam’s take on the situation before he made a real issue out of the discovery.
He heard all the commotion inside the library, opened the door to find out what was going on, and then stood there watching in stunned disbelief. Eleanor had her arms wrapped around Adam’s waist and was sobbing and trying to talk at the same time. Cole couldn’t make out any of the words. It all sounded like gibberish to him. Adam’s reaction was amusing to watch. He stood there in the center of the library with his hands up in the air, looking as though he’d just been told to reach for the sky. Cole’s brother appeared to be horribly uncomfortable, and definitely helpless.
Adam finally reached down with one hand and awkwardly patted Eleanor on her shoulder. He noticed Cole watching from the doorway, glared at him because he was smiling, and then motioned him to leave.
Cole immediately closed the door.
Neither brother mentioned the incident during supper. Eleanor had chosen to stay in her room. Mary Rose had taken a tray of food up to her and a fresh pot of tea she hoped would calm the overwrought woman.
She was the last to join everyone at the dining room table.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “Eleanor isn’t going to come down and eat with us tonight. She’s all tuckered out.”
She took her seat adjacent to Adam. “She certainly likes you,” she whispered to her oldest brother. “Of course, she doesn’t realize yet how stubborn you can be.”
“I don’t believe she likes Adam at all,” Douglas interjected. “Fact is, I think she might be prejudiced.”
Cole shook his head. He had thought the same thing until he saw her with her arms wrapped around Adam. She wouldn’t be holding on to someone she hated.
“No, she’s just rude,” he told the family.
“You sure?” Douglas asked. “I don’t want her around here if you aren’t sure.”
“I’m sure.”
“What do you have a bee in your bonnet about, Mary Rose? You’re frowning like you’re stewing over something or other,” Travis asked.
“I refused to give her permission to ride up to the ridge this afternoon,” Adam said.
“I am not a child. I don’t understand why you think . . .”
“We have a houseguest,” Adam said. “Kindly remember that.”
She immediately closed her mouth and turned to Harrison.
“Can’t we start? I’m starving,” Douglas asked. He reached for the bowl of potatoes but stopped when Adam asked him to wait another minute.
“Harrison? Do you happen to speak French?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“I’d like you to indulge us for this evening.”
“Certainly,” Harrison agreed without having the faintest idea what the brother had just asked of him.
Adam turned to the family. “We’ve been remiss, these past weeks, and have gotten out of the habit of saying our blessing. Mary Rose, would you like to lead us in grace?”
She nodded agreement, then bowed her head and folded her hands together in prayer.
“Au nom du Pere . . .”
Harrison was once again astonished by the Clayborne family. Each and every one of them spoke French throughout the meal. Mary Rose, he noticed, had the strongest vocabulary, and he assumed she had studied the language while attending boarding school. Understanding French and Latin would have been requirements. She wasn’t simply skilled, however. Both her accent and her ease in speaking the language indicated to him that she’d been studying for a long, long time.
Travis was amusing to listen to, for while he was fluent, he had a noticeable twang in his voice. He slaughtered some pronunciations. A Frenchman would have cringed hearing them.
The prayer Mary Rose had recited before supper was familiar to Harrison, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on where or when he’d heard it before.
“May I ask a question?”
“Again? What now, Harrison?” Cole asked.
Harrison ignored the brother’s sarcasm. “The prayer you all said is familiar, but I can’t remember where I’ve heard it before.”
“It’s a Catholic prayer, called grace,” Mary Rose answered. “We recite it before meals.”
“Good God Almighty, you’re Catholics.”
He hadn’t realized he’d spoken the thought out loud until he noticed everyone was staring at him. They were looking quite astonished and mystified.
“What have you got against Catholics?”
“Nothing,” Harrison answered. “I was just surprised. I don’t know why, but I assumed you’d be ... something different.”
“We are,” Mary Rose told him.
“You’re what?” Harrison asked.
“Different. We aren’t always Catholics.”
He leaned back in his chair. His mind was s
till reeling over the news. Lord Elliott was bound to be horrified. Their family didn’t just belong to the Church of England. They owned the front pew.
And why in heaven’s name did Harrison think the Claybornes would have joined the Church of England?
He smiled over his initial reaction to hearing the news. Lord Elliott was going to love Mary Rose just as much. He would, however, diligently try to convert her.
It finally registered with him what Mary Rose had just said about being Catholics some of the time. She wasn’t making a lick of sense.
“Wait just a minute,” he said. “You can’t be Catholics some of the time. It’s all or nothing. I know. My best friend is Catholic.”
“Yet you still dislike . . .” Cole began.
Harrison wouldn’t let him finish his comment. “I do not dislike Catholics. I was surprised to find out you were Catholic. There isn’t any more to it than that.”
“Why can’t we be Catholics some of the time?” Travis asked.
“We are,” Mary Rose insisted.
Harrison decided to play along. He would slowly force them with logic and patience to realize they couldn’t jest with him.
“All right, let’s assume you’re Catholics some of the time. Mind telling me when you are?”
“April, May; and June,” she replied.
He didn’t bat an eye. “What about July, August, and September?”
“Lutheran,” Travis told him.
Harrison was impressed. The brother hadn’t cracked a smile.
“And the next three months?”
“We’re different again. We’re Baptists, or at least try to follow their rules.”
Harrison had had enough. “Mary Rose, are you about finished . . .”
He was going to ask her if she was finished jesting with him. She wouldn’t let him complete his question, however.
“No, I’m not finished,” she interrupted. “Now where was I?”
“January,” Cole reminded her.
“Jewish in January, February, and March, and in April . . .”
“Jewish in January?” He practically shouted the words.