Page 30 of A Late-Blooming Rose
“Well.” Cora’s eyes sparkled with humor. “Since you wereGrandpapa’s friend, technically, I should call youGreat-Uncle Andre. Just like Rose is myGreat-Aunt.”
Little minx.
“Oh, but that sounds so…so aged.” Andre’s expression crumpled to one of mock tragedy. With a dramatic flourish, he rested a hand on his chest. “You wouldn’t want to do that to me, would you, dear child?”
Cora tilted her head and gazed downward, pretending to think for a few seconds. “Oh, all right.” Out came her dimpled smile.
As soon as possible, I’m taking that girl aside and giving her a stern talking to about charming our host.
“How did your Harvest Festival go?” Cora looked from Delia to Andre. “You wrote of the event with such enthusiasm and made me wish we could have arrived in time to attend.”
On the train trip, Cora shared Andre’s latest letter, and, in reading the contents, Rose had also wished to see the Harvest Festival he’d been so excited about. She hoped the community raised enough funds to build their new church.
With his fork, Andre pushed the last of his mashed potatoes around his plate, a troubled expression on his face.
Oh, dear. All that work. They must be so disappointed not to have raised enough money.
“The festival itself was everything we could have hoped for and more. At one point during the day, Sheriff Granger told me she estimated we had another five hundred attendees above what we’d anticipated.”
Cora’s eyes lit up, and she pressed her hands against the table. “This is your lady sheriff? She must be such an interesting person. I can hardly wait to meet her.”
Father and daughter exchanged a solemn glance, and then Delia set down her teacup, her eyebrows pulling together in apparent distress. “Unfortunately, not all of the day was as joyous. We had a…atragedy.”
Rose glanced between the two, her stomach tightening.
Delia let out a sharp breath. “An outlaw gang robbed the bank of all the money we’d gathered, assaulted the clerk, and killed one of the deputies.”
Cora gasped.
“Those desperados headed away from Sweetwater Springs. The sheriff led a posse out after them.” Andre made a circling motion. “Here in town, we should be fine. We’ve taken protective precautions.”
Rose hadn’t even thought to question their safety. Of course, she’d read stories and articles about the lawlessness in parts of the West. But somehow, Sweetwater Springs had seemed so safe.Surely, Andre and Delia wouldn’t have settled here if violence were a regular occurrence.I never would have allowed Cora to come if I’d thought otherwise.She glanced over to see Andre watching her, his eyebrows pulled together, as if assessing her state of mind.
He dipped his head. “Normally, this is a peaceable town.”
She inhaled in relief and settled back in her chair.
Delia toyed with her fork. “The robbery was six days ago, and we’ve had no word. The wait’s beenagonizing.”
For the first time, Rose saw Delia not as Andre’s daughter, but as awoman—one carrying a burden of sorrow and fear. “I’m so sorry.”
“Papa blames himself,” she said in a lowered voice. “We pay regular visits to the bank clerk, Mr. Hatter, who was the one hurt in the robbery.” Her smile trembled. “He’s doing better, although still weak. He, too, blames himself. As if a solitary elderly man could have stopped a band of armed men.”
“We’ve come at a bad time,” Rose said, feeling awkward about imposing themselves on a house of troubles—atownof troubles.
“Don’t think that!” Andre moved as if about to reach across the table for her, then lowered his hand. “The thought of your arrival—” he glanced back and forth from Rose to Cora “has been the only brightness of the last dark days. We had your visit to plan for, something to look forward to.”
Rose wished she had the right to go around the table and give him a hug. Instead, she clasped her hands together.
“In spite of our low spirits, please know how very welcome you are.” His smile held familiar charm. “However, you can see why lodgings aren’t available. Those who didn’t need to return home to feed livestock or for other urgent needs have remained in town.” He took a sip of his tea.
Rose nodded her understanding.
Cora leaned forward. “You’ve been more than welcoming!” she said, vehemently. “I only wish I could do something to help. Does Mr. Hatter need nursing?” She looked at Delia. “I don’t know if your father told you I’ve been studying nursing.”
Delia gave Cora a nod of approval. “Sweetwater Springs can always use more women with such skills. However, Mr. Hatter only has a concussion. The doctor ordered him to remain in bed. Mr. Hatter is elderly, and he’s taken a blow to his spirits as well as one to his head.”
“That’s understandable.” Cora sat back in her chair. “He’ll need several weeks of bed rest.”
