Page 59 of A Late-Blooming Rose
The door on Rose’s side opened, and Sam stuck his head inside the coach, a worried expression on his face. “Beau just started favoring his right foreleg. I’ll check his hoof. Hopefully, he’s only picked up a rock. Once I remove it, he’ll be as right as rain.”
Andre nodded. “Very well.”
The coachman jiggled the door back and forth. “Open or shut?”
“Open.” Rose wanted to view more of the creek.
Andre settled back against his seat. “Shouldn’t be long.” He winked. “Sam’s veryefficient.”
When Sam returned, his expression was gloomy. “Beau appears to have bruised his sole.” He glanced at Rose and shrugged. “Nothing too serious that a poultice and some rest won’t mend.”
“How long will that take?”
Sam frowned. “Probably a day or two.”
“A day or two,” Rose echoed, concern tightening her stomach. “But what about the wedding?”
“Let’s worry about that later,” Andre said. “We’ll see what Seth and Trudy suggest.”
Sam lifted his hat and rubbed an arm across his forehead. “In the meantime, I’ll unhitch Bayou and ride to the Flanigans. I can borrow their wagon to collect you and drive the rest of the way while I lead Beau.” He repositioned his hat on his head.
Sounds so complicated.Rose glanced at Andre. “You said their homestead was close. Why don’t we just walk?”
Sam shot Andre a pointed look. “No sense tiring yourselves out. I’ll be back right quick.”
“Well, this is inconvenient,” Andre said with a huff. He shrugged and glanced ruefully at Rose. “While we’re waiting, why don’t we step out and stretch our legs?”
Once clear of the coach, Rose could see a prosperous-looking farm about half a mile away, spreading over the prairie—a two-story, white house, barn, and what looked like a smaller cabin amid outbuildings, a corral, wide fields, and an orchard.
Rose wondered what life would be like so far from town. She thought appreciatively of all the hours she could spend reading instead of paying or receiving calls.
Before too long, a farm wagon came into view, pulled by a sorrel with a flaxen mane and tail and a bay with a white stocking. “Here comes Sam.” Andre squinted. “Looks like Seth Flanigan’s driving.” He glanced at her. “Won’t be as comfortable a ride.”
Rose had never traveled by wagon before. “We’re close enough to the house, so comfort won’t matter.”
The driver pulled to the side of their coach. With a grin at Andre, Seth Flanigan set the brake, tied off the reins, and swung down to the ground. Tall and broad-shouldered, he took long strides to clasp Andre’s hand. “Heard about your plight, Mr. Bellaire. Welcome.” He flashed Rose another grin.
She couldn’t help smiling back.
Although not conventionally handsome with his narrow face, strong nose, and square jaw, the man had unique and compelling eyes, gray with a dark circle around the iris, making him strikingly attractive.
Andre touched Rose’s arm. “Miss Collier, I’d like you to meet our rescuer, Seth Flanigan. Seth, this is our new librarian, Rose Collier.”
“Miss Collier, I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’ll be relieving us of our load of books. Ever since Trudy moved here over a decade ago, those crates have been the bane of my existence. First, they cluttered up my barn, and now, they fill the attic.”
She smiled and raised her eyebrows. “That’s the first time I’ve heard books described as anyone’sbane.”
“If you ever had to trudge through the snow to the barn in midwinter, searching through ten crates for a certain title your wife wanted to readthat day, you’d understand.”
“Oh, dear.” She couldn’t help laughing at his description. “What a thoughtful husband you are, Mr. Flanigan.”
“Call me Seth.” His grin turned sheepish, making him look like a lovesick youth. “My Trudy is worth every blasted minute of pawing through those books. But I’ll be much happier having them organized and easy to find on your library’s shelves instead of in my household.”
“I don’t blame you,” she said with genuine warmth, liking the man.
Seth gestured toward the wagon. “Shall we go? Trudy was just about to put dinner on the table.” He looked over at Sam, busy with Beau. “You going to be all right, there?”
The coachman rubbed the gelding’s head. “Yes, sir.”
