For the Roses (Claybornes' Brides (Rose Hill) 1)

“Don’t you think you should ask your brothers before you offer their services?”

From past experience, she knew that asking their permission wasn’t a good idea. “No, I’ll ease them into agreeing. Do call me Mary Rose, or just plain Mary, like everyone else in town does. Do you have a horse and wagon, or did you ride into Blue Belle on the stagecoach?”

“I have a horse.”

“Shall we go then?”

She was obviously through discussing the matter. She stepped off the walkway, smiled at her brothers as she passed them, and headed for the stables. Harrison must have taken a minute or two to make up his mind, because he didn’t catch up with her until she was halfway down the road.

“The gentleman next to Cole is my brother Douglas,” she told him. “I believe I’ll wait a little while before I introduce you to him. His mood is bound to improve.”

“He does look irritated about something,” Harrison remarked.

He’d given the man a close inspection when he strolled past him. Harrison walked by Mary Rose’s side, with his hands clasped behind his back, while he considered a delicate way to ask her about Douglas.

“Is Douglas a stepbrother?” he asked in what he hoped was a casual tone of voice.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“He doesn’t look like you or Cole. I never would have guessed he was related. He reminds me of a friend of mine named Nicholas. He was born and raised in Italy.”

“I don’t believe Douglas is Italian. He might be Irish. Yes, I believe he is.”

“You believe he is?”

She nodded but didn’t offer any additional information. Harrison was thoroughly confused. “Did your father marry a second time?”

“No. Cole and I are the only ones in the family who resemble one another.”

He waited for her to tell him more. She didn’t say another word about her brothers, however, and, in fact, turned the questioning around on him.

“Do you have any brothers?”

“No.”

“Any sisters?”

“Afraid not.”

“What a pity,” she concluded. “Being an only child must have been terribly boring for you. Who did you fight with while you were growing up?”

He laughed. “No one.”

No wonder the poor man didn’t know how to defend himself. It was all making perfectly good sense to her now. He didn’t have any older brothers to teach him all the necessary things he needed to know.

Harrison glanced back over his shoulder to get yet another look at Douglas.

His conclusion didn’t change. He still didn’t believe Douglas was related to Mary Rose. Everything about his physical appearance was different from Cole’s. Douglas had curly black-brown hair and dark brown eyes, a square chin, and wide, yet pronounced, cheekbones. Cole’s facial features were more patrician in structure, and his nose was almost hawklike. Harrison couldn’t tell which one was older. Odd, but they appeared to be about the same age. Perhaps only a year separated their births, he reasoned, and perhaps too, Douglas was simply a throwback to one of their ancestors.

Anything was possible, he knew, and damn but he was anxious to find out if he was wasting his time or not.

“You don’t look Irish.”

“I don’t?” She smiled up at him and continued walking. She was obviously unwilling to discuss the matter further.

“Mary Rose, where in thunder are you going?”

Her brother, Douglas, shouted the question. She turned around. “I’m going to the stables,” she answered in a near shout of her own. She hurriedly turned around again, quickened her pace, and only then called out the rest of her explanation.

“Mr. MacDonald will be joining us for supper.”

The two brothers watched their sister all but run away from them. Cole waited another minute and then put his hand out, palm up, in front of his brother.

Douglas let out a low expletive, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a silver dollar.

“Never bet against a sure thing,” Cole advised.

Douglas slapped the piece of silver into his hand. His gaze stayed on the stranger. “I don’t get it,” he muttered. “He looks fit enough to me. He towers over Mary Rose. Hell, he’s over six feet tall, and he’s got muscle, Cole. You can see he does.”

“I see,” Cole replied, laughing.

“He moves like you do, I noticed right away, and his gaze doesn’t miss a thing. Honest to God, I can’t understand what she sees in him. He looks kind of normal.”

Cole was gloating because he had won the wager. Douglas found his behavior irritating.

“Damn it, he’s wearing a gun. I’d be wary of him if I met him in a dark alley.”

“It’s a new gun.”

“So?”

“He’s never used it.”

“Then why is he wearing one of those fancy new gunbelts?”

Cole shrugged. “I guess he figured he should. There isn’t a single nick on the leather. It’s got to be brand-new too.”

“Is he stupid then?”

“Seems so.”

Douglas shook his head. “He’s gonna get himself killed.”

Cole’s smile widened. “And that’s why our sister is bringing him home.”

Douglas wanted his money back. “You knew all this before you made the bet?”

“You could have asked. You didn’t.”

Douglas accepted defeat. His gaze went back to the stranger. He watched until he disappeared around the corner of the stable.

“Dooley told Morrison he’s from Scotland. Said he was book-smart too.”

“Then he’s a city boy?”

Cole nodded. “Seems so,” he agreed. “He can’t shoot his new gun, and I don’t think he can fight. You didn’t see any scars on his face, did you?”

“No, I didn’t see any scars. I guess he’d have some if he’d been in any knife fights.”

“My point exactly,” Cole said. “I talked to him for a couple of minutes. He sounds educated, but he doesn’t seem to have any common sense. He told me he was afraid to shoot at Webster. Said he was worried he might hurt someone.”

Douglas laughed. Cole waited until he’d calmed down, then said, “If he had any sense at all, he wouldn’t be wearing a gun. He’s giving everyone the notion he’s qualified.”

“It’s a shame,” Douglas remarked. “Someone that big ought to be able to fight. He could be a real mean one if he only knew how.”

Cole agreed. “It’s a crying shame all right.”

“What did Mary Rose say his name was?”

“MacDonald,” Cole replied. His grin was wide when he added, “A-Crying-Shame MacDonald.”

February 11, 1861

Dear Mama Rose,

We got into a little trouble in St. Louis. I was carrying Mary Rose on my hip and a troublemaking man came along and tried to bother us. The baby’s got curls now, all over her head, and she’s right friendly to anyone who looks at her. Well, she smiled at the man, showing off her four front teeth and drooling down her chin, and he starts in wondering in a loud voice how come she don’t look nothing like me. He kept trying to take her from me too, but Cole came along and of course he looks just like little Mary Rose’s brother what with the same yellow hair and blue eyes. Anyways, he snatched our baby up in his arms and tells the mister to mind his own business.

The troublemaker got us all thinking we should keep on going until we find us a place where people mind their own business. Adam’s thinking the prairie might be far enough away from folks, so we’re packing up our lean-to and heading out tomorrow. It’s a shame you can’t write back to us yet, but just as soon as we get ourselves situated, we’ll send you our whereabouts.

Adam’s looking over my spelling now and he says to tell you we got to get us a proper cabin. Mary Rose is crawling everywhere and the dirt we call a floor inside the lean-to is sticking to her hands and knees. She tries to eat the dirt when we aren’t looking. None of us know why she d

oes that. She sure is a happy little thing though. We all got to take turns putting her down for her nap. She sleeps with one of us every night and I got to tell you, I’m getting sick of waking up with her piddle on me. She wets through everything we put on her. Guess that’s usual though, isn’t it?

We sure wish we could see you so we’d know what our mama looks like.

Love,

Your favorite sun, Douglas

3

Douglas was vastly amused by his brother’s nickname for Mary Rose’s latest charity project, but his mood drastically changed when he got a good look at Crying-Shame’s stallion. He suddenly wanted to kill the man. It didn’t matter to him that MacDonald might not be able to defend himself. If the son-of-a-bitch was responsible for the mount’s pitiful condition, then, by God, he deserved to die.

Cole had ridden down to the stables in the wagon with his brother. The owner, a red-haired, potbellied giant of a man named Simpson, told them Mary Rose and the stranger were out back by the corral. Cole was going to collect his and Mary Rose’s horses, but Simpson kindly offered to saddle the gelding and the mare and bring them out, and so Cole rode with Douglas around the corner to where MacDonald’s horse was being housed. They’d only just rolled to a stop when Douglas tossed Cole the reins and reached for his shotgun. The weapon was propped on the seat between the two men. Cole was quicker than his brother. He snatched the shotgun out of Douglas’s hand and threw it into the back of the wagon.

He knew what his brother was thinking. “Find out first,” he suggested in a low voice. “Then you can kill him.”

Douglas agreed with a curt nod, then jumped to the ground. He stormed over to the corral, where Mary Rose and MacDonald stood watching the animal.

She had been stunned speechless at her first sight of the horse but was quick to recover. She kept her attention on the stallion while she tried to understand why anyone would treat him so maliciously. White, puckered scars covered almost every inch of his coat. She couldn’t imagine how the poor thing had managed to survive.

She decided she’d better get the particulars. “How long have you owned the horse?” she asked in a voice strained with worry.

“Almost three weeks now.”

“Thank God,” she whispered. She was going to ask him another question, but then she spotted Douglas coming toward them and she immediately hurried to put herself between the two men. She could see rage on her brother’s face.

“He’s only owned the horse three weeks, Douglas. Just three weeks.”

Harrison found her behavior puzzling. “Why are you shouting?”

“It was important for Douglas to hear me. I didn’t want him to kill you.”

If he was startled by her bluntness, he didn’t let it show. His attention turned to her brother. He noticed how red and mottled Douglas’s face was and immediately understood. Douglas was staring at the stallion, enraged on the animal’s behalf.

“Douglas has become an expert in the care of most animals,” Mary Rose said. “Ranchers come from miles around just to get his advice. My brother has a particular fondness for his horses. He’s also extremely protective, and when he saw the scars on your animal . . .”

“He only saw the scars.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Someone used a whip on him, didn’t he? Do you know, I thought his coat was white until I got closer, then I could see a hint of gold. Who did this to him?”

Douglas had reached the two of them and now stood with his hands fisted at his sides while he studied the animal and listened to the conversation. He was trying to get rid of his anger and finding it an almost impossible task.

“I don’t know who was responsible.” Harrison replied. “I asked, but no one knew. I forget about the scars. I just see MacHugh.”

“MacHugh? What a peculiar name,” she said before she realized she might be insulting him. “I mean to say, what a fine name,” she hastily corrected. “Peculiar and fine,” she ended, with a nod so he’d believe she was sincere.

She was going to great lengths not to injure his feelings. He smiled in reaction. She really was a sweetheart and appeared to be completely unspoiled. If that was the case, then she was going to be a refreshing change from all the other women he’d known in the past.

He wondered if she realized how incredibly lovely she was.

He pulled himself back to the topic at hand. “I named him after a crusty ancestor of mine. I saw certain similiarities.”

“You did?”

“That’s one damned ugly horse.”

Cole made the judgment from behind. Harrison didn’t turn around when he answered him. “Get past the scars and you’ll see he’s one damned fine horse.”

“You think he’s fine?” Mary Rose whispered the question.

“Yes.”

She let out a barely noticeable sigh. She could feel her heart melting. Harrison was a good and decent man. It was such a rarity for any man to ever look beyond the surface, at least that was the conclusion she’d come to after having to fend off several arrogant, opinionated suitors, and she could really name only four other men who had conquered the ability to look deeper, into a person’s heart. Her brothers were all good and decent, even when they didn’t want to be, and perhaps Harrison was too. Lord, she hoped she was right. Good men were so difficult to find these days, especially in Montana Territory.

They also tended to die young. Their high standards and their values got them killed. But not this one, she vowed. Come heaven or purgatory, she was determined to help him learn how to get along in the wilderness. Besides, it really wasn’t all that difficult once you got the hang of it.

MacHugh was busy putting on a show for his audience. He was rearing up and snorting and acting as if he had just been fed a bucket full of crazy weed. Harrison was used to his theatrics. He knew MacHugh was trying to intimidate them, and from the worried look on Mary Rose’s face when the stallion came charging toward the fence, he concluded she was duly impressed. She moved toward her brother Douglas, seeking his protection without even realizing it.

Harrison found himself wishing she’d moved toward him.

“Does he let you ride him?” she asked.

Douglas had calmed down enough to join in the discussion. “Why would he buy him if he couldn’t ride him, Mary Rose? Use your head, for God’s sake,” Douglas instructed her.

“I would have purchased him anyway, even if I couldn’t ride him,” Harrison said.

“Well, now, that’s plain stupid,” Cole remarked.

Harrison didn’t take offense. “Perhaps.”

“Because of the similarities you saw?” she asked.

He nodded. “Tell me what they were,” she said then.

“The horse is every bit as stubborn as my ancestor was reported to be,” Harrison said. “There was fire in his eyes, but something else too. Patience, I guess, for the men who didn’t understand him.”

She sighed again. “Patience,” she whispered.

Harrison nodded. He couldn’t imagine what had just come over her. Her eyes had taken on a dreamy, faraway look. He wondered what she was thinking about.

She thought she might be falling in love. It was a fanciful, schoolgirl notion. She didn’t care. As long as she didn’t tell anyone what she was daydreaming about, it was all right, wasn’t it?

“I figured I could learn a few things from him,” Harrison told Douglas. “I’m short on patience.”

He really would make a wonderful husband, Mary Rose decided. He wanted to be patient.

“He’s got strong legs,” Douglas said. He moved closer to the fence. “Actually he’s quite sound. Did you look him over? In his mouth?”

“Yes.”

“No diseases you know about?”

“None.”

“Where did you get him?”

“Right outside of Hammond, at Finley’s place. Have you heard of it?”

Mary Rose’s eyes widened. “You went to Finley’s? Dear God, he only buys horses he’s goin

g to kill for the meat he sells. How much did you pay for him?”

“Twelve dollars,” Harrison answered.

“Then you were robbed, MacDonald.” Cole happily volunteered his opinion.

Douglas disagreed with his brother. “I’m not so sure he was, Cole. He might have gotten a bargain.”

“I did get a bargain,” Harrison insisted. “And I was extremely fortunate. If I’d been an hour later, MacHugh would be dead.”

“And that is why you would have purchased him even if you couldn’t ride him.”

Mary Rose was smiling over her conclusion. She turned to Cole. “Isn’t he sweet?” she whispered.

“He’s stupid,” Cole whispered back.

Harrison heard the exchange. He shrugged and then walked around to the gate. MacHugh followed him. The horse acted as if he wanted to tear Harrison from limb to limb, yet when he walked inside the corral, MacHugh gave him only a hard nudge before settling down.

He stayed meek and willing until Douglas tried to get near him. Harrison grabbed hold of the bridle and soothed the panic away.

Mary Rose’s brother shut the gate behind him and walked forward. The horse immediately started fussing again.

“Stand where you are,” Harrison called out. “Let him come to you. If you don’t move, he won’t hurt you.”

Douglas agreed with a nod. He stood with his legs braced apart and waited to see what the stallion was going to do.

He didn’t have to wait long. As soon as Harrison let go of the bridle, the stallion came charging across the corral. Mary Rose was certain MacHugh was going to kill her brother. She wanted to scream a warning, and it took all her discipline to keep quiet. Cole was sure he could see fire in the stallion’s eyes and immediately reached for his gun. By God, he’d shoot the damned thing before he’d let it trample his brother to death.

“Don’t you have any sense, Douglas?” Cole whispered.

MacHugh stopped a few inches away from Douglas. He wasn’t through with his terror tactics, however, and had to rear up twice before he finally decided to behave.