Chapter Four

    "Ma'am?" A deep voice broke into Rose's dreams and she resented it. She had been dreaming that she'd been sleeping upon a luxurious bed with silk sheets and pillows as soft as clouds. There hadn't been a single thing she had needed to clean and nothing to cook and no one to look after. There'd been plenty to eat and Langley had everything he could possibly want. 

    Sometimes dreams were cruel—especially when they were so far from being the truth. 

    "Ma'am, do I need to go get a doc?" that voice spoke again. 

    The voice wasn't completely unpleasant but it held no tenderness or true concern. Why was there an unfamiliar men speaking to her? Rose's eyes flew open and she saw the owner of the voice crouched down in front of her. His face was mere inches from her own and Rose found herself both captivated and terrified. 

    His eyes stole her attention. They were a gold color unlike any she'd ever seen in her life. The skin around them was dark and tanned, his nose was long and sharp and his face was covered in a thick, heavy brown beard. 

    "Ma'am, are you gonna get up?" he growled with irritation lacing his deep, gruff voice. 

    Rose reached back into her memory, wondering who he was and where he'd come from. Suddenly the truth came crashing back down on her. 

    She remembered him riding down the hill, telling her his husband had sent him. Letting her know that her husband was dad and would never be coming back to her or to Langley. Speaking of her son...

    "Langley!" she cried out as she sat up suddenly and her head collided with the stranger's. 

    "Son of a.. God! You stupid...!" The man's voice was a low roar as he rose up and rubbed roughly at his head with his skillet sized hand. Rose could barely breathe. The man was massive. He had to be close to seven feet tall and his body was broad and thick—though judging by those muscles currently working in his bare forearm, none of his body was fat. 

    "Where is my son?" Rose demanded, glancing around her for anything she could use to defend herself. What weapon could one use against a man who was roughly the size of an ox?

    "I'm right over here," Langley's voice came from the kitchen table. "Marston cooked me some potatoes—I mean taters. They taste real good, mama, especially with those peppers we had in the cellar." 

    Rose looked behind her and saw Langley sitting at the table, his feet swinging and his plate full of potatoes and peppers. She turned her attention back to the stranger. "You cooked my son something eat?" 

    "Someone had to," he grumbled without meeting her gaze. "You were sleeping." 

    "I wasn't sleeping. I was unconscious," Rose argued as she got to her feet. Surprisingly she did feel well rested—more rested than she had felt in years. Unfortunately the stranger was probably right and she probably had been sleeping. Sleep was something she hadn't had much time for since Langston had been taken away. Between the work, the worry and the nightmares sleep was a stranger. 

    Thoughts of Langston had Rose's legs disappearing beneath her once again and she sat down hard on the couch. 

    "I thought you were unconscious too," the stranger admitted as he began scooping buttery potatoes onto a plate. "But then you started to snore." 

    "It was funny, mama. You sounded like a big old bear." 

    "What am I going to do...?" Rose whispered to no one in particular as she remained lost in her own thoughts. Langston was dead. How? She had just received a letter from him just a couple weeks before saying that he had been released and he would be coming home to her and Langley. What was she going to do without him? She couldn't go on supporting her and her son alone.. she was barely hanging on as it was. 

    Rose knew it was cold-hearted to be thinking of money at a time like this but it seemed money was all she'd been able to think of for a long time. It was all that mattered when your cupboards were empty, your son's clothes were falling apart and there were debtors breathing down your neck. 

    Rose and Langston had never been in love but she had had tremendous fondness and respect for the man who had saved her life and given her son a name by marrying her eleven years ago. This was not how their life had been supposed to go! Langston had had to go get himself tossed into prison and then get himself shot. Now she was alone with her son and she was fresh out of hope. 

    "What am I going to do?" she whispered again, desperate for an answer, pleading for guidance. 

    "You're going to come on over and eat some damn taters is what you're going to do," the stranger grumbled as he plopped a plate full of them on the table. 

    Rose forced herself to swallow down her own fears and uncertainties. She had to be strong for her son. Slowly she stood and made her way on stiff legs to the table.

    "Thank you for cooking for us," she said politely as she met the stranger's golden eyes. She couldn't' get over how handsome he was even with that thick beard blocking most of his face from view. But there was something in his eyes—a coldness that unsettled her. She sensed a sadness within him and wondered what caused it. 

    Then Rose scolded herself. She had just lost her husband and should not be looking at another man let alone wondering how she could help him. Langston had been her savoir, her hope and now she would never see him again. That knowledge had new tears filling her eyes.  

    Marston saw that tear hovering on her lashes and he waited for it to roll down her full pink cheek. Then he shook his head. "Don't worry about thanking me, ma'am. Just sit down and eat and we'll call it even." 

    "Won't you sit and eat with us?" Rose asked, gesturing toward an empty chair. 

    "No, I don't think so," Marston quickly denied. "I gotta get going. I left the sack of money over there." 

    Rose glanced toward the small table beside the door and saw the leather sack sitting there. "Money?" 

    "Yeah the money from..." Marston's eyes went to Langley who was watching them closely. He turned back to Rose. "The money from Langston. His horse is out in the barn and settled in." 

    Rose nodded as her stomach rolled and she picked at her potatoes without eating them. She was afraid if she took a single bite she would be sick. 

    "Why does Marston have pa's money and horse?" Langley asked. "Where's pa?" 

    "I'll be going now," Marston stated, reaching for the door. 

    "Marston?" Rose called out and Marston found himself unable to do anything but turn back around and look into those big blue eyes. 

    "Yes ma'am?" 

    "Thank you for everything. Thank you for bringing my husband's belonging back to us. You could have very easily kept them for yourself." Marston was about to respond when she wiped a tear from her eyes and rendered him speechless with her next comment. "Thank God for you, Marston." 

    Marston didn't know what to say. Why did these damn people keep thanking God for him like he was some kind of good man? It unnerved him and made his stomach burn and ache. 

    He couldn't come up with any kind of response so he simply tipped his hat and quickly slipped out the door as Langley demanded once again to know where his pa was. Marston had no urge to be there when the boy learned that the man was dead. He didn't envy the news that Rose would have to break to him. 

    Rose...A beautiful woman who confused him greatly. 

    Was she that talented at hiding her lack of morals behind wide blue eyes and polite words? Or was it possible that she really had loved that old man he'd found on the road? No, surely not. A woman that beautiful didn't waste her time on an old man. There had to have been some other reason she had married the man and judging by the running water in that cabin and the sack of money Langston had had—money had been it. Clearly Langston being sent to prison had disrupted the woman's plans. 

    Marston hoisted himself up onto the gray and pointed its nose toward town. It was late and the temptation of a hotel bed was too strong to ignore. He'd been spending too much time lately sleeping on bedrolls and the hard ground. 

***

    Rose fell into bed that night exhausted beyond belief. Langley had taken the news about Langston fairly well but, then again, the boy had never met the man who had given him his name. The law had come and carted Langston off to prison for past crimes mere days after Langley had been born, leaving Rose alone to raise the boy. 

    The money Langston had left them had lasted a while thanks to Rose's frugality but it had eventually run out. Rose had taken odd jobs sewing and doing laundry and she had sold off everything of value in the cabin but still it hadn't been enough. 

    She had been forced to take a loan against the cabin just to survive. A loan which she was now unable to repay and the banker was breathing down her neck and demanding payment while threatening to take her son's home if he didn't get it. 

    "Damn you, Langston. You made me promises.. promises you didn't keep," she whispered into the darkness. 

    It wasn't his fault and she knew that. His intentions had been true and pure when he had asked her to marry him all those years ago and if he hadn't come along when he had then she would very likely no longer be alive. 

    Rose thought about that three hundred dollars in the sack that Marston had given them. She had no idea where Langston had gotten that money and she was afraid to think too deeply about it. She was too desperate to worry about the right and wrong of it. With that money she could make a payment to the banker, pay off the credit at the store and the blacksmith, refill their food supplies, buy feed and tackle for the horses and buy some fabric to make a few new outfits for Langley. 

    She was hopeful she could do all that and still have enough to do a bit of repairs to the cabin and have a bit of money set back to fall on should she need it later. 

    Marston...

    For some reason that man and his golden eyes kept creeping into her mind. She wondered what kind of man he was. His eyes said he was a cold man—a sad man. Maybe even a dangerous one. But his actions said something different. He could have easily kept that money and horse for himself. And she had been unconscious most of the time he had spent at their cabin. He'd had plenty of chances to harm them and hadn't—instead he'd cared for them and even cooked supper. 

    Rose couldn't help but wonder what he thought of her. She knew what most people thought of her. A twenty-seven year old woman married to such an old man—a man in prison. Everyone judged her and looked down upon her. If only they knew the truth..... But Rose would rather them believe their own assumptions than have the truth get out. The truth was too painful. 

    The terror of her life before Langston was something she didn't want to relive, even in conversation. The terrifying events that had led to Langston buying her out of the back of that wagon and the horrific truth that had led to Langston offering to marry her and give her son his name were shameful things that she didn't want anyone knowing.

    Rose clung to her pillow and sobbed, wishing things could be different but thanking God for the blessing He had given her when Marston had come riding in with that money. At least now Rose could feed her son a little longer.