River Queen Rose. Shirley KennedyЧитать онлайн книгу.
at the corners of his eyes. Age couldn’t have caused them because he didn’t appear to be past thirty or so. She gave Maggie, the nearest ox, a pat on the head. “There’s this team and another in the front that need to be unhitched. I was hoping you could help me, but I didn’t realize…” She glanced at his cast again. “I’ll get my brother-in-law to help.”
“I’ll do it.”
“Of course.” She’d caught the quick glint of resentment in his eyes and realized her mistake. Men had their pride, and here she’d just insinuated he wasn’t capable of helping her. “I’d appreciate it, Mr. Fleming…Deke.” How he could lift those heavy yokes off the oxen while on crutches, she couldn’t imagine, but she wouldn’t argue.
His mouth curved into a crooked little grin. “Don’t worry. Stand by. You can put them in the corral when I get them unhitched.”
At least he wasn’t so prideful he couldn’t admit he needed a bit of help. She watched as he threw one crutch aside, hobbled over to the four oxen, and proceeded to lift the yokes off with little difficulty. Amazing what he could do while standing on one foot. Of course, his exceptional strength didn’t hurt. She couldn’t help noticing how the muscles in his arms rippled beneath his shirt sleeves when he lifted the yokes off the animals’ necks. Soon as they were unyoked, she led each pair to the corral and penned them inside. She brought the second wagon around to the barn, and they did the same. At least the chore kept her busy for a while. Tending to the animals left her little time to think, but when all the oxen were penned, watered, and fed, thoughts of the horrible events of the day came rushing back. “I’d better go inside now.” Her voice was shaking. There was nothing she could do about it, and she was beyond caring. “I thank you very much for your help, Deke.”
“Any time, Mrs. Peterson. He was a good man. I’m going to miss him.”
She hadn’t thought about it until now, but he must also be grieving. And he must know more about what happened. “Mr. Murphy said my husband was killed in a duel. How is that possible?”
“That’s a good question. Duels are illegal in this county.” He frowned with concern. “It’s a long story that maybe you’d best wait to hear ’til later.”
He was right. At the moment, all she wanted was to get in the house and find Lucy before somebody else told her the news. “Yes, it can wait. Good day, Deke. Thanks for your help.”
The shadow of a smile crossed his face. “If you need someone to talk to, I live in the barn”—he jerked a thumb over his shoulder—“any way I can help, I’d be glad to.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Maybe she would. Deke might be just the hired help, but there was something about him—maybe his sincerity and the compassion in his eyes—that made her think she’d seek him out again.
* * * *
Deke Fleming watched after the retreating figure of Rose Peterson until she’d rounded the house and was out of sight. The poor woman had just lost her husband, yet she’d shown a lot of strength and hadn’t fallen apart. She’d put the animals first—apparently no one else in the family had—and he admired that. He also admired the tall, straight way she carried herself and how her thick, shiny hair, sort of a gold-bronze color, hung loose around her shoulders.
He looked down at the cast on his leg and gave a cynical laugh. Oh, sure, Deke, that wasn’t pity you saw in her eyes. She’s already crazy about you.
He’d lived his whole life in the Australian outback. He hadn’t known a lot of women, but those he had met were nothing quite like the newly widowed Mrs. Peterson.
* * * *
Rose found Raymond sitting on the porch, head in his hands. He looked up when he heard her coming up the steps, and she saw he’d been crying. “I can’t believe it,” he said in a bewildered whisper. “Emmet was… Emmet was…” He wrung his hands. “What are we going to do?”
She bent and took his hand. “Emmet was a wonderful brother to you, and you must always remember that.” Indeed, her husband had always treated his younger brother with the greatest of kindness, despite all his faults. “I know how you feel. This is so hard for all of us. Was it only hours ago we’d started our last day on the road, everyone cheery and joyful? Now look at us.” She patted Raymond on the shoulder. “We’ll talk later. Right now, I must find Lucy.”
Heartsick, she left Raymond and hurried inside. She glanced around. At another time, she would have been eager to see the whole house, but now all she wanted was to find her daughter. After a quick search, she found Lucy sitting at the kitchen table, a slice of bread covered with butter and jam in front of her. Tom Murphy’s mother stood at the sink. “I hope you don’t mind, Mrs. Peterson,” she said in her raspy voice. “Lucy said she was hungry, so I fed her.” She gave an indignant sniff. “Couldn’t find much. Looks like Bridgett made off with all the food. I never liked that woman.”
“Of course I don’t mind. That was very kind of you.” Rose stepped to the sink and spoke softly. “Does she know?”
The old lady shook her head. “Thought you’d want to tell her,” she whispered back. “You’d better do it soon, though. She knows something’s wrong.” She flicked her gaze upward. “Emmet’s ma is in a state, and his pa has got her lying down. The sister’s lying down, too. I’ll be going now.”
“You don’t have to leave, Mrs. Bidwell.”
“Call me Dulcee. Everyone does. It’s best I go. If you need to talk to someone, I’m right next door, the house with the big red barn.” Her faded eyes filled not only with compassion but keen understanding. “I reckon sooner or later, you’ll need someone to talk to, so come over any time. I fix a fine cup of tea, if I do say so.”
After she left, Rose sat at the table, across from Lucy. Dulcee was right. The uneasy expression on her daughter’s face signaled her sense that something was wrong. Rose hunted for the right words, but whatever they were, they eluded her. Best to tell her straight out and not worry about perfection. “I have something very sad to tell you, sweetheart.”
“Is it about Daddy?”
“Yes. You see…” Her voice caught, but she must control it. This was no time to break down. “You won’t be seeing Daddy for a while. He’s in heaven now.”
“You mean he’s dead?” A tear slid down her little girl’s cheek.
“Yes, he’s dead, and I’m so sorry. This is a terrible time for all of us, but you must be strong. I must be strong.” She couldn’t help it. Tears blinded her eyes and choked her voice.
Without another word, Lucy slid from her chair, came around the table, and put her arms around her. “We’ll be all right, Mommy. Please, you shouldn’t cry. It doesn’t do any good to cry.”
Rose hugged her tight. What a brave little girl, and she was right. She didn’t need the wisdom of a five-year-old to tell her tears were useless. She didn’t know what sorrows the future held, but from this moment on, she was done with them.
For the rest of the day, Rose found plenty to do. First off, she found a tiny bedroom off the kitchen that no doubt had belonged to Bridgett, the infamous cook. She put Lucy down for her nap on the single bed. That was only temporary. Later they’d decide which upstairs bedroom would be hers and Lucy’s. Now was her chance to see the house. Downstairs, she walked from the kitchen into the dining room and then the parlor. How spacious the rooms were, and nicely furnished, too. On the second floor, everyone was lying down. Tiptoeing, she found three large bedrooms and what looked like a sun room. How sad Emmet wasn’t here to see how impressed she was. If all had gone as expected, she’d be celebrating right now, reunited with her husband, joyful that this beautiful home far exceeded her expectations. But she had no time to dwell on what might have been. Tom Murphy had warned about the cook running off. Ordinarily, that wouldn’t have mattered because Coralee did the cooking and was always in complete control of the kitchen. Not today, though. Her mother-in-law was in no