Rose Heart
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“That’s it,” Rose whispered. “It worked.” Her breath came out in a rush as she leaned over the table to peer into her handbag and check how much money was inside. The bells jingled, just like when she’d counted them earlier that evening.
She could see it now—that was what had happened. It wasn’t luck after all; not this time. But how many times had she gone through this process of counting the money before realizing she had been lucky? How often did she have to count it again only to find it was still right? Was there some kind of trick she didn’t know about or was someone pulling her leg?
But then again, maybe it would work for everyone else except her. Maybe she couldn’t do this on purpose. Or perhaps she was simply going mad from being so tired and hungry and thirsty that she was losing all sense of reality.
If the latter were true, she might be better off admitting it, because no matter how hard she tried, she wouldn’t make a dime tonight. Not until she went home first thing tomorrow morning. At least if she went back to the saloon early enough, she could get at least three more hours’ sleep before leaving for home.
And once she got back home, she could take two days to recuperate and decide whether she wanted to give up this mad idea and start selling apples again instead. That sounded reasonable and sensible enough; it had always been her first choice. But now it seemed like such an unappetizing prospect, even for one who liked fruit as much as she did.
She sighed heavily. “I’m sure you’re right.” She picked up her purse and turned toward the door. “It won’t work for me anyway. I’ll go ahead and head home.”
“Wait!” A woman’s voice stopped her with its unexpected urgency. When Rose glanced around, she found herself face-to-face with Mrs. Beadle. The older woman wore her gray hair pinned up in a bun, and her black dress looked freshly pressed. It was obvious from the look in her eyes and the way she gripped Rose’s arm that something was very wrong.
Rose frowned but kept her attention fixed on Mrs. Beadle. “What is it?” she asked. “Is there a problem?”
The older woman shook her head, looking confused. “No, nothing’s wrong…” she stammered, then hesitated and glanced left and right as though searching for help. With an effort, she focused on Rose again, her voice low and hurried. “Please come into my parlor… just for a moment…”
With a sigh, Rose followed Mrs. Beadle and shut the door behind them. She had expected the room to be dark, but the overhead light gave off bright light that lit up the area around Mrs. Beadle’s chair as well as the small table between them.
As soon as they stepped inside, however, Rose realized that the light wasn’t the problem at all. Rather it was the fact that her hostess seemed to be holding back tears and talking very fast while staring off into space. The whole scene was surreal. Why was she here? What did it have to do with her?
Mrs. Beadle’s hands trembled as she pulled the silver bell from under her chair. Rose heard her ring it twice before the sound ceased altogether, and then Mrs. Beadle lowered her voice further yet.
“I don’t believe I should tell anyone about this, Miss Heart. Even if I knew why it had happened. But since you are a friend—”
Rose felt like she was watching a play unfold. Everything was happening so slowly, but it was also taking place so quickly at the same time. Her own thoughts were in utter chaos. Had Mrs. Beadle seen her doing something she shouldn’t have done? What could it be?
Did her husband suspect she had cheated on him somehow? Was he going to call her home to answer questions about her behavior? What exactly was she supposed to say? Would the truth make things any better?
If it made her situation worse, she doubted she would ever be able to explain it to her family. They might think she was guilty of cheating after all. No, no… she couldn’t let that happen. She hadn’t done anything wrong!
“You mustn’t say a word,” she repeated.
But Mrs. Beadle shook her head. “I’m telling you because you’ve never lied to me and you’ve always helped me and my boys when we needed your kindness.” Tears spilled down her cheeks now as she continued, “If you were going to steal money or rob someone, I would have known about it long ago. You’re a good person, Rose.”
For some reason, those words struck a chord within Rose. Yes, she believed she was a good person too, which was precisely why she was so reluctant to do what Mrs. Beadle suspected she had done. “I can’t help you,” she said, trying to pull away from the other woman. “You’d better run along home before anyone finds out…”
“I can’t go back home like this…” Mrs. Beadle began to cry loudly.
Rose didn’t understand what had brought on the crying, but suddenly it sounded as though everything was falling apart, and she could see disaster looming at every corner. “Oh… Mrs. Beadle, I…”
Her voice trailed off in bewilderment. The old woman’s eyes were closed tightly, and her shoulders jerked with each sob.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right.” She sniffed loudly and wiped her nose with a handkerchief that smelled of lavender. “And even if I wasn’t… well, at least I know I’m not alone anymore…”
That was it. She had finally found an explanation for all the odd events and feelings that had been plaguing her for the last few weeks, months… years. “Mrs. Beadle…”
“Yes?”
“Tell me what this has to do with me…”
As the older woman spoke, the room filled with laughter. Rose spun around quickly until she found herself facing the door, but no one was there. It was impossible—she had walked into the parlor alone, but when she faced forward again, two men stood near the fireplace, their faces flushed from the heat of the fire.
The older man who Rose assumed was Mr. Beadle, nodded as he looked down at his watch and then glanced toward the other man, whose name she learned was Frank.
“It’s late,” Mrs. Beadle said with a sigh. “We need to get home now…”
“You go ahead,” the older man urged. “I will stay here and talk to Miss Heart.” He reached over to pat her shoulder as he added, “There’s no need for us both to leave the house tonight.”
Rose felt trapped, but she didn’t want to admit it to either of them, especially not to her employer. She could still hear Mrs. Beadle’s voice pleading with her not to leave, but she couldn’t bear to stay another moment longer and risk being discovered by someone else.
With her heart pounding, she pushed past Frank and stepped through the open doorway, leaving the older Beadles standing behind.
The cold wind cut through Rose, and she shivered despite wearing layers of clothing and a heavy coat. A chill settled in her stomach as she watched her employer turn away, and she tried desperately to figure out what she should do.
Should she wait for the woman outside, where she could see her? If she did, Mrs. Beadle would think Rose was up to something suspicious. Or maybe she should just walk away without looking back. If that would keep Mrs. Beadle safe, then so be it…
When Rose turned around, she saw the older Beadle waving frantically in her direction. Her hands were clasped in front of her chest as if she were holding something, and then Mrs. Beadle ran across the yard, her heels clicking on the gravel driveway. When she stopped only a couple of feet from Rose, she cried out in dismay.
“What are you doing out here alone in this kind of weather?”
Rose wanted nothing more than to explain, but instead, she took a step backward and then darted inside the house as fast as she could. “I thought I heard people talking—”
“No… I mean… yes…” The woman’s eyes widened and her cheeks grew red with embarrassment. She turned and fled from the porch, and Rose rushed after her.
She found Mrs. Beadle in the kitchen, wiping tears from her face and blowing her nose with her hankie. “Don’t be upset,” Rose begged, taking the handkerchief from the older woman. “I’m sure it was nothing… I…”
“It was very nice of you to come out on this cold night to check on me,” she told her. “I don’t suppose you would happen to have any milk left from your morning breakfast?”
“Of course.” Rose hurried into the pantry to retrieve the jug. “Do you mind pouring the milk, while I take a look at the stove?”
Mrs. Beadle nodded as she poured the liquid into a large mug. As soon as Rose returned to the kitchen, she noticed the fire was still roaring in spite of the fact that the stove had cooled off during the day. “You must remember to shut down the pilot light before you close for the night, Mrs. Beadle.”
The older woman’s eyes widened, and her brow wrinkled. Rose realized how stupid it sounded, but her words weren’t meant as a complaint or accusation. The pilot light was supposed to remain lit at all times in case a fire broke out, but she knew the woman was too frail to operate the gas burner in the dark.
The woman was afraid of flames and always insisted on having a man nearby when she cooked.
“I’ll put out the pilot light,” Rose told her, trying to reassure her. “That way we won’t waste anything.”
When the woman handed her the cup, she asked, “Will you pour yourself some as well?”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Beadle said, as she placed the mug in front of Rose. “But I can make tea for myself.”
“You should drink something warm to settle your stomach, Mrs. Beadle. It looks like you’ve been crying.”
Mrs. Beadle shook her head as she lifted the cup to her lips, and her shoulders began to quiver. After taking a few sips, she set the mug down.
“You should get to bed,” Rose told her. “Come back tomorrow to clean my room. You shouldn’t have to spend any more time than necessary in this house.”
“Yes… you’re right,” Mrs. Beadle murmured.
“Why don’t you rest for a minute?” Rose motioned to a chair beside the table. “Sit down and let me take care of things…”
A sob caught in the older woman’s throat. “I-it’s already so late. And I’m so tired…”
“Please… sit.” Rose took the chair next to her and wrapped her arm around Mrs. Beadle’s shoulder. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
The woman sat there staring at Rose until the younger woman finally stood up and turned to the stove again. Then Mrs. Beadle rose slowly, picked up the mug, and made her way slowly to her bedroom.
Rose listened to the sound of her shuffling footsteps in the hallway and then heard a door close softly behind her, and she wondered what kind of life she was going to lead with this elderly spinster living next door. What did she even know about the woman?
That she didn’t mind cleaning houses in the middle of a blizzard and that she was good enough to do business with a traveling salesman’s wife. Did she even know how much money a man could make selling ladies’ fashions?
As she wiped off the stove and turned to shut down the pilot light, she thought about what she had just done. How long would it take for him to find out about this, if he ever found out about it at all?
***
“What were you thinking?” Morgan demanded as soon as Rose opened her bedroom door the following evening.
“I don’t understand… why am I here?” She tried not to raise her voice, knowing she wasn’t supposed to talk about Mr. Lark in front of Mrs. Beadle, but his angry gaze made her want to lash out. If they kept fighting like this, he wouldn’t be able to control himself much longer. “How is that possible?”
Morgan glared at her. “You’re here because you were hired to spy on me.”
Rose backed away from him. “But you never asked me…”
“I would’ve asked you if you hadn’t been so quick to tell everyone what happened with you and my sister. And then you went to her funeral…!” His voice rose. “Do you realize what that did to me? My sister is dead! I lost her in a freak accident, and now someone’s trying to destroy my family’s livelihood by telling people that I killed her.
Do you think I haven’t thought about it every single day since I got that telegram? Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?” He slammed his hands against the wall, leaving deep gouges in the plaster. “Do you know what I’ve gone through?
Because you’re certainly no help. Just last night I was wondering how I was ever going to convince anyone that my sister was innocent, and you show up at my doorstep, acting like nothing’s wrong—”
“Don’t!” Rose gasped, shaking her head and backing away. “Stop… talking.”
“You know how many times I wished I could punch someone in the face over this?” Morgan grabbed Rose’s wrist and yanked her toward him, pressing her into the wall before she could retreat. “Did you forget what I told you when I first met you? When I asked, ‘Is this real?’ And you told me that everything was fine and it was a joke. Why are you lying now?”
“It’s not a lie!” Rose protested as tears began to form in her eyes. “You… I… we—there’s no need for you to feel this way. Please. Let me explain—”
“No, I won’t let you explain anything,” Morgan said. “Not until you start treating me with the respect that I deserve instead of making fun of me or insulting me whenever you get the chance.”
“Then why do you even care what I think? It doesn’t matter anyway—”
“Yes, it does matter. You’re still my wife. No matter what you say, we’re married.”
He pushed away from her and headed for the stairs, and Rose followed him, feeling trapped yet helpless as he strode through the house. He went straight to the bedroom and closed the door behind them. She couldn’t believe he was doing this to her.
They had agreed not to fight like this anymore; she knew he cared about her and wanted to protect their marriage. But now, in one fell swoop, everything had changed.
“Are you going to hit me?” Rose whispered when he stopped and faced her.
His glare froze her heart. “If I can get past the fact that you lied to me, insulted me, and humiliated me in front of my friends and family… if I can forgive you for being a hypocrite while pretending to be so religious and righteous…”
Her stomach churned, and she looked away.
“… then I’ll hit you.” He shook his head in disgust. “That is how much I hate you right now, but only because you’re hurting me.”
Tears filled her eyes, and she covered her mouth with both hands to prevent herself from crying out loud. How could she have hurt him so badly? All she ever meant to him was friendship. She had promised to stay loyal to him, to love him as a friend, and she hadn’t been.
She had been trying to save his life and his reputation. Wasn’t that what he would want, too? To keep his name clean and clear so that he could return to his ranch? She didn’t have to worry about that now.
The whole thing had turned into something far bigger than either of them could have anticipated. Not only was Mr. Lark determined to ruin his family’s livelihood by telling everyone that Morgan was involved in my sister’s death, but now Rose was also suspected of murder. She could hardly breathe as she waited for Morgan to speak again. Would he leave? Or would he say more?
He stared at her with an expression of utter confusion on his handsome face, which made her wish that she could go back in time and warn him against hiring her. “Why are you saying all this to me? You never cared before.”
“Of course I did. You’re my best friend—”
“Best friend,” he repeated slowly as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard.
“What about now?”
Morgan opened his mouth, then closed it without answering her. After several seconds, he finally sighed and nodded. “There’s a lot you don’t understand yet, but it doesn’t change who you are to me.” With a sad smile, he walked over and hugged her from behind. “I’ve already lost the only woman I ever really loved, so I’m sorry. If you weren’t so stubborn—”
Rose pulled away from him and turned around, wiping away her tears. She had never thought about marrying anyone else; she just wanted to live in peace with Morgan and have their baby. “Let me guess, you were going to propose to me the day you got your inheritance?”
“Yeah…” His voice trailed off, and suddenly he seemed unsure of himself. “That’s right.” He paused, staring down at the floor as if debating whether to tell her the truth or not. “We would have gotten married right after you found out you were pregnant. Then, you could have run off and left me in peace.”
“So, I wouldn’t have been allowed to come back here?”
He hesitated, as though trying to decide how much to reveal.
“Just answer the question,” Rose pleaded softly.
Morgan took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling for several seconds before he answered. “You would have been free to come back any time you wanted to see our baby,” he said quietly. “But you could never have lived with me.”
She gasped in shock, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of her lungs. “That’s why you never talked about us getting married! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You would have refused to leave.”
“Well, I sure as hell will not refuse now. That’s not what I want, Morgan. And we don’t have to worry about that now. Let’s just forget all this nonsense, okay?” She reached up and stroked his cheek. “It’s just like you said: We’re both guilty until proven innocent.”
***
She had to make him listen to reason. She didn’t care how many times they had argued before, or how many times he accused her of lying, stealing, and scheming against him, she wasn’t leaving. Now, when he most needed her friendship, he was treating her worse than he ever had before. He didn’t even seem angry anymore—just confused.
He stood motionless, his arms hanging at his sides, and then he started pacing the floor. It was hard to read him. Did he hate her for what she had done to his career, or did he feel nothing but pity for her? She knew he felt something; otherwise, why was she still standing there?
“I know you don’t understand everything,” Rose began softly, “but I need your help. I’ll explain everything later.”
He stopped pacing and looked up at her in surprise. “How can you ask me to believe you after you lied to me all these years? You’ve done nothing but lie to me since the day I met you.”
“I never told you anything that was a lie. All of it was true. There are things you won’t understand unless you—”
“Don’t try to play me,” he interrupted. “If you think I’m so stupid, then go ahead and leave, but I want you gone by the morning!”
With a sigh, Rose turned away and walked over to the door. Before she went through it, she turned to look at him. “I love you, Morgan. But you don’t seem to realize that because you’re such a stubborn man.”
The next day, the two men who owned the hotel in which she was staying arrived to take her to her new home, where she hoped to stay forever. Her belongings were packed quickly; she had hardly slept the night before.
At least she hadn’t spent any of her money, she thought, trying to comfort herself. The ranch was only four days’ ride away, and she planned to get there before anyone noticed she’d been missing.
As the wagon carrying her luggage rumbled across the prairie, Rose thought about the last few days and wondered if she should have stayed in Montana with Morgan. If she hadn’t insisted on going to Kansas City, maybe he would have come back sooner, and then none of this would have happened.
But, as usual, she had made another mistake, and now the consequences would haunt her for many years to come.
***
They traveled through the plains of Wyoming, crossing state lines into Colorado. Rose rode behind the driver as he drove the team of horses along the winding dirt road. They kept to themselves; no one bothered them, although a group of settlers rode past, waving and shouting greetings. Rose smiled politely in response, not wanting to start an argument.
The day wore on, and finally, the sun set, and darkness settled over the land. After a long, quiet meal, she climbed up on the roof of the wagon so she could watch the stars twinkle in the sky above.
After several hours, she heard the faint sound of a horse galloping across the prairie and then coming closer.
Rose jumped down off the wagon and hurried toward the sound, stopping at each hitching post she passed. “Morgan?” she called out. “Where are you?”
No one answered her, but she soon caught a glimpse of dark hair and blue eyes as he came riding around a bend in the road.
“Oh, thank God!” she cried as she ran up and threw her arms around him. As she clung to him, she tried to calm her heart and stop the tears from forming in her eyes. “Thank goodness you got here in time. We almost lost him.”
“He’s all right?” Morgan asked, looking over his shoulder at their son.
She nodded. “Yes. Thank heaven he’s all right! What took you so long? I thought you would have ridden by a long time ago.”
His frown deepened, and then he shook his head. “I couldn’t find a train.”
“You couldn’t find a train?”
“That was my first mistake.”
“And now we’re stuck here,” she said angrily.
Morgan looked down at their son who lay asleep in the wagon bed. His face broke into a broad smile, and he looked like his mother when she smiled at him. A moment later, Morgan’s own expression changed.
“What is it, Morgan?”
“We need to go faster,” he explained, “before it gets too late and the sun sets again.”
“Then let me ride in front with you,” she pleaded. “My horse will carry more than two men. It won’t matter if I miss dinner.”
Morgan hesitated for a moment and then nodded reluctantly.
Rose rode beside him. He held the reins between his knees as he guided the team of horses at an easy pace. She watched the night scenery go by: wild dogs barking and howling in the distance, rabbits darting across the road ahead of them, cattle grazing along fences.
She felt like she was traveling through some strange dream; she couldn’t grasp why they were moving so slowly. Then she saw a rider coming up fast on them, and she gasped and leaned forward, ready to cry out in alarm, but Morgan put his hand on her arm to hold her back.
A minute later, the rider pulled up alongside them. When he recognized the man leading the wagon and realized that it was Morgan, he dismounted and walked over to talk with him. “I’ll ride ahead, and tell the folks we’re coming,” Morgan said, taking a step back to give him room.
It didn’t surprise her to see that it was a woman driving the buggy; she knew that women did most of the work on the frontier. In fact, she had helped with chores when she’d visited her father’s ranch in Nebraska, helping to herd sheep or drive the cowboys in the corral.
But she had never seen a woman do a job like this, guiding the team of horses and pulling the buggy. She had to admire the way she maneuvered the team of animals along the narrow path and then slowed down as they approached other traffic on the road. Her hands were steady and strong, holding onto the reins and guiding the horses as though she had done this all her life.
Morgan led his horse next to hers. He looked at her questioningly and then pointed at the baby. Rose looked away, knowing that he wanted her permission.
As always, she didn’t want to offend anyone, so she said nothing. Morgan mounted the team, and with the woman driving, they moved swiftly past the other travelers on the road. Soon, they were leaving all those strangers behind.
The End