his shame. She’d understandably been shocked and had turned away to prepare a pot of soup. Why had he let her see his weak side?
His only explanation was that his head hurt, making it hard to think straight.
Rose filled the soup pot and mixed up a batch of biscuits and popped them in the oven.
Putting aside his regret over confessing his sin of omission regarding Billy, he sat back and enjoyed watching Rose flit around the kitchen. His mother didn’t cook. Back east all the meals had come from the kitchen, prepared by a cook and served in a dining room. When Mrs. Humphrey prepared meals in this room he’d only been allowed to watch. Hence, cooking over the open fire had been learned by trial and error. Being able to share the kitchen with a young woman was a new experience. One, he decided, he quite enjoyed.
Rose brushed strands of hair out of her face. She wore her red hair in a braid down her back and it danced in sunshiny waves as she moved.
“Billy’s right,” he murmured half to himself. “Your hair is pretty.”
She ground to a halt and slowly came around to face him, her eyes narrow and challenging. She held the big stirring spoon like a weapon.
He held up both hands in a gesture of retreat. “Hey, it’s a compliment.”
Slowly the spoon was lowered. “Thanks,” she mumbled.
Billy went to her side. “How come you don’t like people saying your hair is nice?”
“Mostly because they don’t mean it.” She kept her back to both of them.
“I mean it.” Billy sounded hurt.
“I know you do.”
Duke waited, hoping and wishing she might turn to him and say the same thing. When she didn’t he couldn’t leave it alone. “I mean it, too.”
She stiffened. Then she slowly set the spoon on the cupboard and turned to face him. “‘Redhead redhead, fire in the woodshed.’ Remember that? I do.”
Her accusation ripped through him like a tornado, twisting, turning, filling him with tangled regret. He pushed to his feet, ignoring the dizziness, and crossed to her. He longed to touch her, to smooth her hair, to assure her in so many ways. “I was a foolish kid who didn’t know how to express his admiration.”
“Admiration?” Her eyes dripped disbelief. “For what?”
“Your hair is beautiful. You are beautiful.”
Her eyebrows reached for her hairline.
In for a penny, in for a dollar. He might as well say it all. “You are about the kindest, wisest woman I’ve met.”
She snorted. “Haven’t met many women, have you?”
He grinned. “Met some.” Indeed he’d met a lot of young women while back east. “None of whom would rescue an injured man. None who would likewise prepare him a meal. Rose Bell, you are something special.” He had the satisfaction of seeing pleasure flicker through her eyes before he returned to his seat.
Let her muse on that a while, he thought.
Billy chuckled. “Duke sure does like you, Rose.”
Rose jerked around and stirred the soup rather vigorously. “He hit his head too hard.”
A few minutes later she put two bowls on the table.
He caught her wrist. “Which one of us isn’t eating?”
She didn’t pull away but her face revealed a wealth of confusion. “I made the meal for you and Billy. I’ll ride on home.” She glanced out the window. “It will soon be dark.”
He looked out the window, too. “You have time to eat with us before you go. Billy and I will do the dishes so we don’t keep you.”
She glanced around as if seeking escape or excuse.
“Please eat with us, Rose.”
Not until she nodded did he release her wrist.
She scurried to the cupboard for another bowl. Put it on the table then ladled out soup and set out a plate of golden biscuits.
She hesitated only a moment before she sat in the chair opposite Duke. Only then did she lift her eyes to him.
He smiled at the expectant guardedness of her expression. “I’ll ask the blessing.”
She bowed her head and he did likewise. His heart was so filled with gratitude that his throat tightened and his words came out husky.
“God, bless this food. Bless those who share it at this meal. Thank You for Your many blessings. Amen.” Silently he added thanks for Billy, for Rose and for being safe at home with only a minor cut on his head. And for Rose being willing to share his table.
“Amen,” Rose and Billy echoed.
They were quiet a few moments as the biscuits were passed and the soup tested.
“That is so good.” Duke indicated the soup. “You’ll have to give me the recipe.”
Rose stared. “Why would I do that?”
He shrugged. “Maybe Billy and I will make it ourselves.”
Rose leaned closer. “I could tell you but then Ma would come after you with a fry pan and demand you forget you ever heard her secret ingredient.” She nodded with a hint of warning in her eyes. “So for your sake, I better not.”
He stared at her. Beside him, Billy shifted in his chair.
“Duke, you might get hurt.”
Duke knew she was joshing him but decided to play along. He widened his eyes in fake surprise. “But...but—” A sputter or two would help convince her that he bought her story. “I saw you prepare the soup. I saw what you put in.” He’d watched all right, but his attention had been on the cook, not the ingredients. He gave a shudder that he hoped seemed real. “I can hardly forget what I saw. Can I?”
Billy pushed his chair back and sat forward, preparing to run.
Duke rested a hand on Billy’s arm. “Don’t worry. I don’t think anyone is going to hurt us.” Time to end this farce. “In fact...” He leaned over the table and fixed Rose with a narrow-eyed look. “I remember your mother as a kind, gentle soul. I’m quite certain she’d never threaten to hurt me.”
Rose blinked and then amusement flooded her eyes. She leaned back and laughed. “I thought I had you worried but you were only teasing.”
Billy let out a gust of air. “You were teasing?” he asked Duke.
“We both were,” Rose said. “Sorry if we worried you, Billy.”
Billy looked from Duke to Rose and back again, confusion wreathing his features. Then his expression cleared and he nodded. “That’s how my friend, Andy, acted
