Chapter Seven
Though Marston hadn't wanted to stay around Rose any longer it seemed fate wasn't on his side. Leaving simply wasn't an option. The doctor had said he needed to take it easy and Marston could tell by the pain his shredded thigh was in that riding horseback for hours wasn't something he could manage.
Rose had put fifteen stitches in his thigh, ten in his ankle and another ten in his shoulder. By the time Langley had returned with the doctor, Marston had already cleaned up, changed clothes and had been sitting on the porch. The doctor had left him some laudanum for pain, told him to rest for at least a week to let the wounds begin to close and then he had left.
"Where are you going?" Rose asked that evening as Marston stood from the porch chair and limped toward the steps.
"I'm going into town. I'll get a room at the hotel."
Rose shook her head as she finished clipping a faded purple dress on the line. "It's a long ride to town and the doctor said you need to rest."
"I'll be fine," he assured her. "I've had worse than a ripped up leg."
He'd rather have the pain in his body from riding than the torment he felt in his soul as he sat and watched her. Rose tempted him as nothing else ever had and the fact that something inside of him wouldn't' let him give into that temptation and simply take what he wanted from her irritated the hell out of him.
"It's not your leg I'm worried about," she insisted. "It's your head. You shouldn't be alone after a head injury like that."
"Why the hell are you worried about me?" Marston demanded and then he kicked himself for asking it. Did he really want to know the damned answer?
'Yes you do. That's why you're still here,' Great his favorite voice was back again.
'I'm here because a chunk of my leg is missing,' Marston countered silently.
'Would you be honest for once in your life?' the voice grumbled. 'You're still here because you don't want to leave.'
Marston growled under his breath. "Are you okay?" Rose's voice broke through the argument he was currently having with himself. He looked up from the dirty ground and let his eyes find her face.
She had one arched red brow raised and her teeth were nibbling her full bottom lip. She was truly beautiful. Like the sight of a hoof trampled waterhole when you'd been riding days in a drought.
Growling, Marston turned away from her. "I'm fine, dammit. I wish you people would stop asking me if I'm okay and worrying about me. And quit thanking me for stuff. And quit treating me like I'm something I'm not!" Marston stalked off to the barn without giving Rose time to respond.
Rose watched him go and wondered if that outburst meant he was staying or leaving. On one hand, Rose knew she should fear Marston and, in a way, she did. But on the other hand she had seen glimpses of his kindness, generosity and caring. And her desperation for friendly companionship outweighed her fear tenfold.
Rose was about to go into the barn to plead with the man not to leave until leg healed, when he came limping out with a burlap sack of nails and a hammer. Langley was hot on his heels. "Can I help you fix the corral? I'm real good at pounding nails. Can I use the hammer?"
Rose hid her smile behind her hand as she watched them. It was clear that Marston was a man who didn't talk much and Langley was a boy who rarely ceased. Rose hoped Langley wouldn't irritate Marston too badly. The boy had been his whole life without a strong male influence and needed someone who would be patient with him.
Marston nodded in response to Langley's questioned and handed him the hammer. Langley's eyes lit up and Rose continued to watch them as she finished hanging up her wet clothes.
"Now you hold that piece up and I'll nail it in. Yep, I'm real good at nailing. I just never fixed nothing up because I'm no good at nailing and holding at the same time. That's hard to do, you know? Hey, what are you doing with those nails?"
Rose looked up from a pair of trousers to see Marston holding the flat ends of four nails up to Langley's mouth. Her first instinct was to rush to her son's aid but she forced herself to remain still and simply observe.
"Hold these between your lips," Marston ordered.
"Why would I wanna do that?" Langley asked skeptically.
"That way I don't have to reach in the bag every time we need one," Marston replied.
"Well why don't you hold them in your mouth?"
Marston's eyes narrowed. "Because I need you to hold them in yours."
Langley rolled his eyes but did as he was told and put the flat ends of the nails between his lips. Marston caught Rose's gaze and the victorious smile on his face had her laughing—Langley was now rendered completely unable to speak.
***
"Eat with us," Rose ordered as she sat a third plate potatoes, corn bread and beans on the table that night.
"I'm not hungry," Marston lied just before his stomach rumbled.
"You sure sound hungry to me," Langley countered with a grin. "Sit down and have some taters. Mama makes 'em better than you do. I promise."
"Langley!" Rose scolded, but the smile threatening to curve her lips took any harshness from her voice.
Rose sat down next to Langley and motioned for Marston to sit at the other side of the table. Marston stared down at that chair as if it were a lit stick of dynamite. He had never in his life been invited to sit down to a family meal. Hell, he'd never in all his life been a part of a family.
'You could be now if you wanted to.'
"I don't want to," he growled.
Rose let out a squeak at his sudden outburst of temper. "Okay then," she nodded. "You don't have to."
She reached for his plate but Marston quickly reached out and grabbed her wrist gently. "I wasn't talking to you."
"Then who were you talking to?" Rose asked with confusion.
Marston shook his had. "No one."
"Are you going to eat with us then?"
Marston stared down at his dark, calloused and scarred hand holding on to her tender, pale wrist. "Yeah, I'll eat."
Marston released his hold on her and sat down with a wince. Langley was grinning across from him. "He was talking to himself, mama. He does that when he doesn't think anyone is listening."
"Shouldn't you be shoving potatoes in that overactive mouth?" Marston grumbling before shoving a bite in his own. Damn, but the kid had been right. Rose was one hell of a cook.
"You can't eat yet!" Langley exclaimed.
Marston paused mid-chew and fixed Langley with a stare that had the boy shifting in his seat. "Why not?"
"Because we haven't said grace yet," Langley replied, glancing over at Rose for approval.
Marston sat his fork down. "Well you go ahead and do what you want. I'll just sit here real quiet and let you speak but I don't take no part in saying grace."
Rose smiled at her son. "Go ahead, Langley."
Marston watched Rose as she folded her hands and bowed her head. She was so soft and gentle. She woke up a protective urge in him that had long been dead. He wanted to care for her and for Langley. He wanted to take away that load weighing down her dainty shoulders.
Marston's stomach rolled. He was no one's protector and he shouldn't want to be!
His attention went to Langley when the boy's voice filled the quiet. "Dear Lord, thank You for the food we're about to eat. It smells real good. Thank You for making mama such a good cook. Thank You for keeping Marston safe today against the coyotes. Thanks for sending him to me and mama cuz we sure needed a friend. Please watch over my pa up there in heaven with You and make sure he knows that mama and I will be okay—especially now that we have Marston. Amen."
Langley attacked his food with gusto but Marston found that he had suddenly lost his appetite.
Friend? He wasn't anybody's friend. He was a murderer. A thief. A heartless bastard who took what he wanted and never regretted it. Marston looked out for himself and no one else.
Damn that boy and his diarrhea of the mouth.
Marston heard a quiet sniffle and he turned to see Rose watching him closely. She quickly averted her gaze but not before Marston saw the emotion and tears shining in her blue eyes.
Emotions that caused his heart to feel like it was being ripped open in his chest. Marston stood from the table and limped toward the door.
"Where are you going?" Langley asked.
"I'm not hungry," Marston replied before heading out into the night.
***
Rose stepped out into the darkness of night a couple of hours later. The kitchen was cleaned and Langley was tucked into bed, though the lantern light shining from beneath his door told her he was probably reading instead of sleeping.
Rose sat her lantern down on the small table beside her rocking chair and settled down with her sewing. She had the porch to herself and couldn't help but wonder where Marston had gone. She hoped he hadn't taken off without saying anything.
Rose had seen more on that man's face at dinner than she had expected to see. He'd been scared. Rose wasn't sure why eating dinner with them would scare Marston but the man had been terrified. He had tried hard to seem cold and distant but Rose was almost certain she'd also seen a bit of longing mixed in with that fear.
Marston was a mystery that Rose simply couldn't figure out but she found herself drawn to him despite her common sense which told her she should know better.
Rose threaded her need and began sewing a patch into the knee of the trousers in her lap. She rocked back and forth gently and became lost in her thoughts on life. She didn't realize that she was no longer alone until Marston's deep voice came from the second chair on the other side of the tiny table.
"Don't you ever stop working?"
Rose's head shot up and she gasped before shaking her head and covering her heart. How did such a big man move so silently? "I don't have that luxury," she replied before continuing to move that needle and thread with practiced ease. Marston nodded before leaning back in the chair. "Thank you for staying," Rose added. "Langley would have been very upset if you'd left without saying goodbye. He likes having you here—so do I if I'm being honest."
Rose saw his golden eyes widen slightly before he turned his gaze away from her. He pulled a sharpening stone from his pocket and then slid his knife from his leg. The blade was at last ten inches long and it gleamed in the lantern light.
"You shouldn't want me here," Marston warned as he slid that knife across the rock. The metallic sound caused a shiver to run down Rose's spine. Marston's face was suddenly cold as he looked into her yes. "I'm a bad man, Rose. A very bad man. I could kill you both and never feel a moment of guilt."
Rose's hands shook and the trousers slipped from her grip. She let out a whimper of pain when her needle sank deep into her finger. Before she could blink, Marston was out of his chair and on his knees in front of her. She was breathless as he took her hand in his and examined it closely.
His eyes narrowed at the sight of the lone droplet of blood welling from the hole she'd placed in her skin. "You should be more careful," he scolded.
Rose couldn't respond because in the next moment he was pulling her hand to his mouth and pressing the most tender of kisses to her self-inflicted wound. His golden eyes once again held that gentleness she'd seen in the woods.
Hadn't he just gotten done telling her he could kill her and her son?
"Bad men aren't supposed to kiss away hurts," she whispered, her voice trembling nearly as badly as the rest of her.
Marston growled, dropped his hold on her and stood gingerly, keeping his weight off his torn leg. He scooped his knife and sharpening stone from the table and glared at her. "I am a bad man, Rose. I'll stay a few days for my leg to heal but then I'm leaving and you'll never see me again. My advice for you is to keep your distance."
With those final parting words, Marston left the porch and limped beneath the moonlight into the barn. Rose was left alone feeling more confused and conflicted than she had been when she'd first come outside to clear her head.