Chapter 6
The scythe blade swept through the tall grass, each pass in time with James’s pulse—a steady, urgent cadence, edged with something close to worry.
He stopped to check their progress and mop his brow, though the mountain air held a chill that hadn’t been there just last week.
His brothers worked nearby, silent and intent, their motions fluid, almost spare, as they cut and forked the hay into the wagon.
The north pasture stretched ahead, a little more than a quarter cleared now, but winter pressed close behind them, cold and relentless as a wolf on the scent.
Enoch straightened and stared at the work they’d accomplished.
“Let’s get this load in the shed, then we’ll stop to eat a bite.
” His words formed white clouds, and the lines at the corners of his eyes seemed deeper than usual.
They all felt it—the urgency to finish storing all the hay before the first snow.
The cattle that would soon need every bit of it to last through a hard winter.
Thomas drove the team toward the shed in the corner of the pasture that they’d built to house the hay. Each field contained such a building, making it easy to fork out hay for the cattle once snow covered the ground.
The four of them worked in silence, stacking the hay high in the shed.
His thoughts kept drifting to the breakfast table, to the way Rose had looked when she’d smiled at Robert—that same warm expression she’d once reserved for James alone. The memory sat in his chest like a stone.
“James.” Enoch’s voice cut through his brooding. “You’re woolgathering.”
He blinked. How long had he been holding this same forkful of hay? “Sorry.”
Robert stepped past him with his own loaded pitchfork. “Thinking about our houseguest?”
He tightened his jaw. “Thinking about winter. Same as you should be.”
“Rose seems to be settling in well.” Thomas shucked the hay from his tines and strode back for another load. “Mrs. Wang was beside herself this morning. Haven’t seen her that happy in months.”
“Good.” James tried to keep his voice casual, but something in the way Robert glanced at him suggested he wasn’t fooling anyone.
They finished unloading the wagon, then pulled out the food sack Mrs. Wang had packed.
James sat on a fallen log, unwrapping a thick sandwich. The bread was soft enough she must have baked it that morning, then filled it with sliced ham and her pickled vegetables. But his appetite had deserted him somewhere between Rose’s careful politeness at breakfast and Robert’s knowing looks.
“She remembers more than I expected,” Thomas said between bites. “About the ranch, I mean.”
“Of course she remembers.” The words came out sharper than he’d intended. “She lived here for years.”
Enoch studied him with those penetrating blue eyes. “Something troubling you about Rose being here?”
Everything. The way she looked through him as though he were a stranger. The careful distance in her voice when she spoke to him. The way she’d brightened when Robert talked to her.
“Nope,” he said instead. “Just concerned about the hay.”
“The hay.” The dip in Enoch’s tone suggested he wasn’t convinced.
James met his brother’s skeptical gaze. “We need to hire men from town. Extra hands to help bring in the rest of this area and the last two fields before the first snow hits.” He eyed the gloomy sky. “A storm could come this week, and we can’t lose all that hay.”
“Can’t spare anyone to ride to town.” Enoch took another bite of his sandwich. “Better we buckle down and get it done.”
“And the expense—” Robert piped up. “Especially with Rose’s wages now added to the books.”
“The expense of losing cattle to starvation will be a sight worse than paying a few men for a week’s work.” James pushed to his feet, brushing crumbs from his hands. The restless energy that had plagued him all morning demanded movement.
He couldn’t help a glare at Robert. “Besides, I would’ve thought you’d be glad for Rose to be here, what with the way you two were mooning at each other this morning.”
Robert’s sandwich paused halfway to his mouth, and Thomas’s brows shot up. Even Enoch turned to stare at him with those piercing blue eyes that saw straight through to a man’s soul.
“James.” Enoch’s tone carried a warning.
But the damage was done. Robert set down his sandwich, his expression thoughtful rather than defensive. “Rose was being polite, nothing more. She’s finding her footing here.”
“Right.” James kicked at a clump of grass, hating himself for the childish display. “Of course she was.”
But Robert didn’t leave it alone. “She’s wary, James. Can’t you see that? Whatever happened to her in Virginia City, it’s left her gun-shy.”
Thomas cleared his throat. “Maybe we should—”
“Enough.” Enoch pushed to his feet, brushing off his hands. “James, if you think we need extra hands, ride to town and hire them. Work with them on the two smaller pastures—we should finish this one by the time you’re done with those.”
James nodded. This would give him something solid to focus on besides his own foolishness. “I’ll leave now.”
“Good.” Enoch’s gaze lingered on him with something that might have been sympathy. “Enjoy the ride to town. Clear your head.”
As his brothers grabbed their tools for another load, James strode to his horse. It only took a minute to strap on his saddle and bridle, then mount up.
Leaving his brothers behind and setting out on his own felt strange, especially when there was work to be done. But he’d be in charge of the ranch when Enoch and Mandie left for England next year—best he start getting used to making decisions and handling responsibilities on his own.
The gelding’s hooves found their rhythm on the familiar trail. He may as well stop at the house and check on the women before riding on to town.
He tried to focus on practical matters as his horse picked its way down the mountainside. How many men could he reasonably hire? Three, maybe four if he could find them. The work would go faster with extra hands, but they’d need to move quickly. Every day they delayed brought winter closer.
Yet his thoughts kept circling back to breakfast, to the careful way Rose had answered their questions about Virginia City. She’d performed there, she’d said. Singing. The word carried weight he couldn’t quite decipher. Something that made her shoulders tense and her voice grow distant.
The worst part was Robert’s observation: She’s wary, James. Can’t you see that?
Of course he could see it. The way she held herself so carefully, the practiced quality of her smiles, the way she seemed to weigh each word before speaking it. Something had happened to her in Virginia City, something that taught her not to trust.
At the house, the yard showed no sign of the women. When he pushed open the front door, the faint rhythm of their voices drifted from the kitchen. Rose’s musical tones blended with Mrs. Wang’s brisk chatter and Mandie’s gentler interjections.
The sounds drew him like a moth to flame, and he approached the kitchen doorway.
Rose stood at the long wooden counter, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, flour dusting her apron and blue dress.
She was kneading dough at the counter, while Mrs. Wang cut something into a pot at the cookstove, and Mandie sat at the table peeling potatoes.
The sight of Rose in the familiar kitchen—her auburn hair tied back in a braid, sunlight streaming through the window to illuminate her profile—made his chest tighten.
Mandie looked up from her potatoes, a smile lighting her face when she spotted him. “James! We weren’t expecting you back so soon.”
Three pairs of eyes fixed on him, but it was Rose who held his attention. She’d gone still, her hands frozen in the dough, wariness creeping back into her expression like a shadow across sunlit ground. What was it about him that brought that look on every time?
He did his best not to let the frustration slip into his voice. “Just stopping to see if you ladies need anything from town. I’m riding in to hire men to help with the haying.”
Mrs. Wang wiped her hands on her apron and bustled toward the pantry.
“I make a list for you.” She emerged with a scrap of paper and began writing in her precise script.
“Salt, more flour, and wicks for the lanterns. Oh, and see if Mr. Henderson has any of those good apples left—the ones that keep well through winter.”
Rose’s hands continued through the dough, and she kept her gaze honed on her work. Her focus narrowed to the bread as if nothing else existed in the room.
Mandie’s voice came in her usual gentle tone. “Rose, would you like James to send a telegram for you? To let anyone know you’ve arrived safely?”
The kneading stopped. Rose’s hands pressed hard into the dough, knuckles whitening. For a moment, something flashed across her features—a quick, raw flicker of fear or pain, sharp enough to make him want to go to her. He had to hold himself back.
“No.” The answer came almost on a gasp. “No, thank you. There’s no one who needs to know.”
The quiet that followed hung thick, as if a storm pressed against the windows. Mrs. Wang cleared her throat and refocused on her writing, but James caught the look she shared with Mandie—a glance that spoke of worry, of questions left unasked.
Rose bent to her work again, kneading the dough with a force that seemed to battle whatever Mandie’s simple question had raised in her.
No one who needs to know. What kind of life had she left behind in Virginia City, that she had no one—not a soul—to wonder where she’d gone?
He kept his tone light. “Well, the offer stands, if you change your mind.”
She nodded without looking up, her movements still carrying that edge of barely controlled tension.
Mrs. Wang pressed the list into his hand. “You be careful on the road. Weather looks ready to turn.”
“I will.” He pocketed the paper, but couldn’t help a glance back at Rose’s bent head, the rigid set of her shoulders. The urge to say something—anything—that might ease whatever burden she carried pressed against his ribs like a physical ache.
Instead, he touched the brim of his hat. “Ladies.”
The kitchen door closed behind him with a soft click, but Rose’s strained expression followed him to his horse and down the trail.