Big Sky Homecoming. Linda Ford
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grunted and leaned into her hold as she urged Hope to move forward.
Billy followed on horseback. “Is this my fault?”
“Of course not. Why would you think that?”
“’Cause I’m stupid and do stupid things.”
“Oh, Billy, don’t you believe that. Besides, we all do stupid things at times.” Anger twisted inside her, both at the knowledge that this gentle man had been made to feel that way and because Duke had chosen to ride a horse that almost killed him. “Such as how smart is it to ride a horse you can’t control?”
Duke mumbled something but she couldn’t make sense of his ramblings.
“You’ll soon be home safe and sound,” she murmured.
He mumbled again and seemed to snuggle into her arms. It sounded as though he’d said, “Nice.”
Heat stole up her cheeks. Surely he didn’t mean having her arms around him. It was only to keep him from falling on his head again. She marginally relaxed her hold but he swayed and she fought his weight to keep him in the saddle. She had no choice but to hold tight.
The ranch buildings came into sight. She glanced around. Now would be a good time for that obnoxious foreman, Ebner, to show up and offer a hand. Or anybody.
But apart from the neigh of King who stood outside the corral wanting in, there wasn’t another living, moving being to be seen.
She rode up to the front of the house and stopped at the steps. This was only the second time she’d been this close to the house. Once, she and her sisters had come with Ma in the wagon. She and Lilly had been eleven or twelve, which would have made Cora fourteen at the time. Ma had heard Mrs. Caldwell was ill and had done the neighborly thing and brought over a hot dish.
Cora had protested. “Ma, do you think they’ll welcome us? Most likely they’ll chase us off with a shotgun.”
Lilly had clutched her hands in her lap. “They might be really mad.”
Rose smiled as she recalled how fiercely she’d reacted. “They don’t deserve Ma’s help.”
Ma had shushed the girls. “We will do what is right and good, and not let the actions of others determine our own.”
A woman who wasn’t Mrs. Caldwell had come in answer to Ma’s knock and, with a friendly smile, had thanked Ma for the dish. Rose learned later the woman was Mrs. Humphrey who worked for the Caldwells.
They’d been informed Mrs. Caldwell was indisposed, and no invitation had been offered for them to step inside.
Ma had smiled as if there had been no insult and said to tell Mrs. Caldwell they’d pray for her recovery.
Rose had been so impressed with her ma’s attitude that she promised herself to be more like her. All too often her anger dictated how she acted, but today would be one time she actually succeeded in doing what was right despite her feelings.
“Billy, help me get Duke off the horse.” She slipped to the ground as she and Billy steadied Duke, then he slid into Billy’s arms. Billy would have crashed under his weight if Rose hadn’t taken a portion of it.
Together they guided Duke up the steps. Billy pushed the door open.
Rose released Duke and stepped back. She’d never been in this house, knew she wouldn’t be welcome. Any more than she had welcomed Duke into the Bell house.
Billy staggered under Duke’s weight and glanced back at Rose. His expression drooped. “Rose, don’t go. Don’t leave us.”
Duke’s head came up. “Rose...” She understood that word well enough. “Help.” And that one, too.
She could not resist a call for help from anyone.
She stared at the door and swallowed hard. If anything symbolized the difference between the Bells and the Caldwells, this door did—big, heavy-looking paneled wood with a fine brass handle. The door to the Bells’ house was a plain slab of wood with a black knob.
Billy wobbled. She pushed aside any insecurities and grabbed Duke’s arm, lifted it over her shoulder and edged through the door.
They were in a kitchen about the size of the entire living quarters at home. A big wooden table, several inches thick, stood in the middle of the room. Half a dozen chairs were pushed up to it.
At one end of the room a fireplace lay with wood ready to light. A huge black stove occupied the opposite side of the room. Cupboards and shelves filled the walls.
“He needs to lie down,” she told Billy.
“Through there.” He pointed to one of the three doorways and they shuffled into a sitting room. Her eyes scanned a burgundy sofa and several armchairs, each with a table and lamp beside it. But she didn’t see anywhere she could rest a person dripping in blood.
“Is there a blanket or towel to cover the sofa with?”
Billy hurried to fetch something, leaving Rose to hold Duke up on her own. He turned unfocused eyes on her and grinned crookedly. “Hi.”
She laughed. “You wouldn’t sound so welcoming if your brain wasn’t scrambled.”
“Yes, I would.” He nodded, causing him to almost lose his balance.
“Whoa! Take it easy.” They sidestepped a bit before she got him steadied.
Billy trotted into the room with a heavy gray blanket.
“Spread it on the sofa.”
He did so, meticulously smoothing it into place.
She edged Duke to the sofa and eased him down. She stood over him, studying him. “About the best I can say for you at the moment is you’re alive.”
He wiped his eyes. “That’s not such a good feeling right now.”
“You’re not gonna let him die, are ya?” Billy wrung his hands.
Duke cracked open one eye. “Are ya?”
Why did his question bring such a rush of emotions? Regret, determination and wild wishes all tangled together.
“Of course not. I need to get some water.” She rushed from the room, pressing her cold hands to her hot cheeks. What was the matter with her? One glance around the room answered her question. She didn’t belong here and, should Duke be in his right mind, he’d be the first to tell her so.
And yet...
Didn’t it feel good to have him need her?
She shoved the thought away and concentrated on the task before her, dipping hot water from the reservoir on the stove, filling a bowl, opening drawers until she found towels. She searched through them, looking for a ragged one that would serve to clean up Duke’s blood. All she found was one towel that had a slight stain. She took it and a couple of others with her back to the other room.
She pulled a stool up to the sofa and carefully began to wash away the blood on Duke’s face. The wound continued to bleed. With barely a hesitation that she was about to ruin a beautiful tea towel, she pressed it to the wound and held it in place while she gently washed his face.
Once the blood was cleaned from his eyelids, he opened his eyes. Aware that his gaze locked on to her face, Rose avoided meeting his eyes. She dragged the towel over the blond whiskers along his jaw to his hairline. She couldn’t help noting how golden his hair was. Slowly she cleaned toward the wound and lifted the cloth. The bleeding had slowed enough she could see that it was deep, but thanks to the amount of blood he’d shed, it was clean.
“Billy, will you please get that sack of things Ma sent with me?”
He dashed away to do so.
Duke continued to stare at Rose and she tried to ignore him, keeping her eyes glued to the wound as if by doing so she