Page 37 of A Late-Blooming Rose
Delia obviously fought not to smile and lost. “Oh, Papa.” She shook her head. “As if I’d do any such thing.”
Andre sent a glance of mock woe to Rose. “See how I’m disrespected in my own home?”
With raised eyebrows Rose leaned forward. “I distinctly recall you saying yesterday that this wasn’t your house, you were merely a hanger-on.” She pretended to keep her expression curious, although she wanted to dissolve into giggles like a girl.
They all burst into laughter.
“Rose has you there, Papa,” Delia chortled.
Joshua stood. “Once I bring the boys back, I’ll be at the parsonage. Father and I must strategize how to best handle the needs of posse members and their families.” He glanced at Andre. “Yesterday, the sheriff was a bit preoccupied. So, I don’t think she had a chance to tell you that although Mrs. McCurdy will retain ownership of their ranch, some of the McCurdys and gang’s possessions and livestock were confiscated. Those will be used to pay for Deputy Rodda’s funeral expenses and headstone as well as Horace Hatter’s doctor bill. Any stolen livestock or goods that we can identify will be returned to the rightful owners.”
With a nod, Andre settled back in his chair. “I was prepared to pay those bills. However Sheriff Granger’s solution serves justice.” He smiled at Rose. “Shall I meet you at the conservatory door in ten minutes, or do you need more time?”
“Ten minutes is fine. I’ll get my hat and coat.” Rose stood, smiled a good-bye to everyone, and left to go to her bedroom. As she climbed the stairs at a ladylike pace, she firmly tampered her excitement at spending time alone with Andre.
No girlish eagerness allowed.
Still, she hurriedly used the bathroom then donned her coat, gloves, and second-best hat in preparation to go out.
Downstairs, Andre waited at the glass conservatory door, looking dapper in a bowler and well-cut coat. Last night after the wedding, he’d shown Rose and Cora around the house, and they’d both admired the elegant, glassed-in room and the display of colorful blooms.
With a tender smile, Andre extended an elbow. “I’m glad to see you rested and eager to face your new life.”
I’m not sure I’d describe myself as eager.Rose slid a hand around his arm, the gesture so familiar her throat tightened.
Inside the conservatory, she slowed to inhale the scent of flowers. “I’m amazed some are still blooming at this time of year.”
“I baby my rose bushes, and they reward me. All except this one—the recalcitrant Empress Red.” He leaned to touch a leaf. “Hasn’t bloomed yet. I’m so frustrated, one of these days I’ll take the pruning shears and cut her down. Then dig up the roots and scatter everything on the compost pile.”
“Well, in another couple months, you’ll prune the bushes anyway. Might as well give the poor thing another chance. She might just be a late bloomer.”
“A late-blooming rose. Very well,RoseCollier. I’ll give the empress another chance.”
With a slight tug to get them moving again, Andre escorted her out the back doors of the conservatory and through the large garden along a winding path of Sioux quartzite bricks, which led to the lacy, iron gate in a low brick wall. The whole while he talked about his plans.
In the distance, Rose saw men clustered in one area, and others scattered throughout the park. There were too many to count, but she supposed between twenty and thirty. She also saw a row of tents, reminding her of the photos of an army encampment. “Where will everyone sleep when the winter comes?”
“Hopefully by then, we’ll have the enclosed shell of at least part of the building. We’ll add a stove, and some men can live there. The remainder can move into the hotel. Then, too, much of what is needed will be made off-site in the workshops of various craftsmen—stair-rails, molding, bookshelves, etc.”
They strolled through the acreage, and he pointed out where the fishpond would go. Then came a Chinese pergola, an arbor—where there’d be a wide sweep of lawn, and the vegetable garden. As they approached, the sounds of digging in the library basement grew louder.
“We’ll have maples for fall color. A walled garden with some apple, pear, and cherry trees—the fruit available to any community member in need. Mischievous boys will sneak over the walls to steal a treat.”
She squeezed his arm. “Maybe a girl or two, as well.”
“Absolutely.”
“The gardeners will plant trees—well, saplings now—exotic ones from all over the world capable of growing in our climate. Imagine—” He waved a hand across the vivid blue sky “—in a hundred years from now, how large and majestic they’ll be.”
“You’re creating an arboretum.” Rose tracked Andre’s hand, imagining the towering trees, thick trunks measuring their many years of life. “Those trees will witness a lot of history. Children playing, growing up, courting, having their own families….”
He beamed at her. “My thoughts exactly. My great-great grandchildren…I can almost see them playing a game of hide and seek among the thick trunks.”
“Willows will surround the pond.”
She looked around. “I don’t see a pond.”
He tapped his temple. “Use your imagination. A tiny stream runs through here that we can dam, along with some springs, including hot ones. Perhaps a spa—a place to soak or swim. I’ll pay gardeners, of course, but I’m also hoping for community volunteers.”
