For the Roses

Chapter 1

Montana Valley, 1879

The baby was finally coming home.

Cole waited next to his wagon for the stagecoach to round the last bend in the road. He was so excited, he could barely stand still. The cloud of dust coming from above the hill indicated she was close. He couldn't wait to see her. He wondered if she'd changed much in the past months, then laughed out loud over the foolish notion. Mary Rose had been all grown up when she'd left for her last year of school. Other than acquiring a few more freckles on the bridge of her nose, or letting her hair grow a little longer, he couldn't imagine any significant changes.

Lord, he'd missed her. They all had. Life on the ranch kept them running from sunup until sundown, and it was only at dinner that they all ached to have her around trying to boss them into eating something new and different she had prepared for them. She was a fine cook when she didn't stray from the familiar, but none of them could abide the fancy French sauces she liked to pour over everything.

The stagecoach was over an hour late, which meant that crusty old Clive Harrington was doing the driving. He would have had to catch up on all the gossip with Mary Rose before they started out. Clive would demand her full attention, and knowing what a soft heart his sister had, Cole knew she wouldn't rush him.

They were fast friends, but no one in Blue Belle could understand why. Clive Harrington was a cantankerous old buzzard who constantly scowled, snapped, and complained and was, in Cole's estimation, a thoroughly disagreeable son-of-a-bitch. He was also as ugly as sin. The walkways in town would clear at the first sight of him, unless Mary Rose was around. A magical transformation took place then. Clive went from ferocious to meek. Not only did he act as though he were everyone's best friend, he also wore a ridiculous, ain't-life-grand grin from morning until night. Harrington made a complete fool of himself doting on Mary Rose, and all because she doted on him. She really cared about the old coot. She took care of him when he needed caring, made certain he was included in their holiday dinners, and personally mended all of his clothes for him. Harrington always took ill once a year, usually around roundup time, but sometimes a full month before. He'd appear on their doorstep with his hat in one hand and a dirty handkerchief in the other, asking for a bit of advice about how to cure his latest mysterious ailment. It was all a ruse, of course. Mary Rose would immediately park old Clive in the guest room and pamper him for the full week it always took before he felt fit again.

Everyone in town called Harrington's week of infirmity his annual getaway, and from the way the old man was dabbing at the corners of his eyes and rubbing his nose with his handkerchief while he slowed the horses, Cole surmised he was already planning his next holiday.

The stagecoach had barely rocked to a stop when the door flew open and Mary Rose jumped to the ground.

"I'm finally home," she called out. She picked up her skirts and ran to her brother. Her bonnet flew off her head and landed in the dust behind her. She was laughing with sheer joy. Cole tried to maintain his somber expression because he didn't want Harrington spreading the rumor he'd gone soft. Cole liked having everyone in town fear him. His sister's laughter proved contagious, however, and Cole couldn't control his reaction. He smiled first, then burst into laughter. Appearances be damned.

Mary Rose hadn't changed at all. She was still just as dramatic and uninhibited as always, and, heaven help him, she'd be the death of all the brothers, who constantly worried about the way she always wore her heart on her sleeve.

She threw herself into his arms. For such a little thing, she had the grip of a bear. Cole hugged her back, kissed her on the top of her head, and then suggested to her that she quit laughing like a crazy woman.

She wasn't offended. She pulled away, put her hands on her hips, and gave her brother a thorough inspection.

"You're still as handsome as ever, Cole. Have you killed anyone while I was at school?"

"Of course not," he snapped. He folded his arms across his chest, leaned back against the wagon, and tried to frown at her.

"You look like you grew another inch or two. Your hair seems more blond too. When did you get that scar on your forehead? Did you get into a fight?"

Before he could answer her questions, she turned to Harrington. "Clive, did my brother shoot anyone while I was away?"

"Not that I recollect, Miss Mary," he called back.

"Any knife fights?" she asked.

"I don't think so," Clive answered.

Mary Rose seemed convinced. She smiled again. "I'm so happy to be home. I've made up my mind. I'm never leaving again. Adam isn't going to make me go anywhere, no matter how good it might be for my mind or my soul. I'm all refined now, and I've got the papers to prove it. Lord, it's warm for spring, isn't it? I love the heat and the dirt and the wind and the dust. Has Travis gotten into any fights in town? Never mind," she added in a rush. "You wouldn't tell me if he did anything wrong. Adam will though. He tells me everything. He wrote more than you did, by the way. Is the new barn finished? I got a letter from Mama Rose just the day before school ended. The mail arrived right on time too. Isn't that something? We live in such modern times. What about…"

Cole was having trouble keeping up with his sister. She was talking as fast as a politician. "Slow down," he interrupted. "I can only answer one question at a time. Catch your breath while I help Harrington unload your baggage."

A few minutes later, her trunk, boxes, and three valises were packed in the back of the wagon. Mary Rose climbed up on the flatbed and started sorting through her things.

Cole told her to wait until they got home to find what she was looking for. She ignored his suggestion. She closed one box and turned to the second one.

Harrington stood next to the wagon, smiling at her. "I sure missed you, Miss Mary," he whispered. He blushed like a schoolboy and gave Cole a quick look to make sure he wasn't going to laugh at him.

Cole pretended he hadn't heard the confession. He turned away before he rolled his eyes heavenward. His sister was obviously pleased by Harrington's admission. "I missed you too, Clive. Did you get my letters?"

"I surely did," he replied. "I read them more than once too." Mary Rose smiled at her friend. "I'm happy to hear it. I didn't forget your birthday. Don't leave just yet. I have something for you."

She was diligently sorting through her trunk and finally found the box she had been searching for.

She handed it to Clive. "This is for you. Promise me you won't open it until you get home."

"You got me a present?" He looked flabbergasted.

She smiled. "Two presents," she corrected. "There's another surprise tucked inside the first."

"What is it?" Clive asked. He sounded like a little boy on Christmas morning.

Mary Rose took hold of his hand and climbed down out of the wagon. "It's a surprise," she answered. "That's why I wrapped it in a box with such pretty paper. Thank you for the ride," she added with a curtsy. "It was very lovely."

"You ain't mad because I wouldn't let you ride up on the perch with me?"

"No, I'm not angry," she assured him.

Harrington turned to Cole to explain. "She begged me to let her sit up there with me, but I didn't think it would be fitting for such a dignified young lady to be riding shotgun."

Cole nodded. "We need to get going, Mary Rose."

He didn't wait for her agreement but turned and got up on the seat of the wagon. He took the reins in his hands and asked his sister to quit dawdling.

She had to chase after her forgotten bonnet first. Clive was clutching his present with both hands while he slowly walked back to his coach. He acted as if he were carrying a priceless treasure.

They were finally on their way home. Cole answered her questions while she removed most of the evidence proving she was a refined lady. She took off her white gloves first, then pulled out the pins holding her prim bun together at the back of her neck. She wasn't satisfied until the thick, blond mass floated down her back.

She let out a sigh of pleasure while she threaded her fingers through her curls.

"I'm so sick of being a lady," she said. "Honest to heaven, it's such a strain."

Cole laughed. Mary Rose knew she wouldn't get any sympathy from him.

"You wouldn't laugh if you had to wear a corset. It binds a body up as tight as a coil. It isn't natural."

"Did they make you wear one of those things at school?" Cole was horrified by the idea.

"Yes," she answered. "I didn't though. No one could tell, after all. I never got dressed in public."

"I hope to God not."

He had to slow the horses when they started the steep climb up the first ridge. Mary Rose turned around so she could watch to make sure her trunk didn't fall off the back of the wagon.

Once they'd reached the crest, she turned around again. She took off her navy blue jacket, draped it over the back of the bench, and started unbuttoning the cuffs of her starched white blouse. The collar was chafing her neck. She unbuttoned the top three buttons.

"Something odd happened at school. I didn't know what to make of it."

"Make of what?" he asked.

"A new classmate arrived in January. She was from Chicago. Her parents came with her to help her get settled."

"And?"

Mary Rose shrugged. "It's probably nothing."

"Tell me anyway. I can hear the worry in your voice."

"I am not worrying," she said. "It was just so peculiar. The girl's mother was born and raised in England. She thought she knew me."

"She can't know you," he said. "You've never been to England. Could you have met her someplace else?"

Mary Rose shook her head. "I'm sure I would have remembered."

"Tell me what happened."

"I was walking across the commons. I smiled at the new arrivals, just to be polite and make them feel welcome, and all of a sudden, the girl's mother lets out a scream loud enough to frighten the stone gargoyles on top of Emmet Building. She scared me too."

"Why's that?" he asked.

"She was pointing at me all the while she was screaming," Mary Rose explained. "I became quite embarrassed."

"Then what happened?"

"She clutched her chest with both hands and looked like she was going to keel over."

"All right, Mary Rose. What'd you do?" He was immediately suspicious his sister wasn't telling him everything. She had a habit of getting into mischief, and she was always astonished by the trouble that would inevitably follow.

"I didn't do anything wrong," she cried out. "I was acting like a perfect lady. Why would you jump to the conclusion I was responsible for the poor woman's condition?" she asked, sounding wounded.

"Because you usually are responsible," he reminded her. "Were you carrying your gun at the time?"

"Of course not," she replied. "I wasn't running or doing anything the least improper. I do know how to behave like a lady when I have to, Cole."

"Then what was the matter with the woman?"

"When she finally calmed down, she told me she thought I was a woman she used to know. She called her Lady Agatha Something-or-other. She said I was the spitting image of the woman."

"That isn't peculiar," he decided. "Lots of women have blond hair and blue eyes. It's not unusual."

"Are you saying I'm plain?"

He couldn't resist. "Yeah, I guess I am."

It was a lie, of course. Mary Rose was the complete opposite of plain. She was really very beautiful, or so he'd been told over and over again by every eligible man in town. He didn't see his sister that way. She was sweet and good-hearted most of the time, and a little wildcat the rest of the time. She used to be a brat, but now that she was all grown up, he guessed she wasn't such a pain after all.

"Adam assures me I'm pretty," she argued. She shoved her brother with her shoulder. "He always tells the truth. Besides, you know very well it's what's inside a woman's heart that really matters. Mama Rose thinks I'm a beautiful daughter, and she's never even seen me."

"You about finished being vain, Mary Rose?"

She laughed. "Yes."

"I wouldn't worry about the coincidence of looking like someone else."

"But that wasn't the end of it," she explained. "About a month later, I was called into the superior's office. There was an elderly man waiting for me. The headmistress was there too. She had my file on her desk."

"How'd you know it was your file?"

"Because it's the thickest one at the school," she answered. "And the cover's torn."

She looked at her brother and immediately knew what he was thinking. "You can quit smiling that know-it-all smile of yours, Cole. I will admit that my first year at school didn't go well. I had a little trouble adjusting. I realize now I was simply homesick and was trying to get thrown out so you'd have to come and get me. However," she hastily added, "I have had a perfect record ever since, and that should count for something."

"Tell me about the man waiting in the office," he said.

"He was a lawyer," she said. "He asked me all sorts of questions about our family. He wanted to know how long we'd lived in Montana and why our mother didn't live with us. He wanted me to describe to him what my brothers looked like too. I wouldn't answer any of his questions. I didn't think it was any of his business. He was a complete stranger, after all. I didn't like him at all."

Cole didn't like him either. "Did he explain why he was asking all these questions?"

"He told me there was a large inheritance at issue. I think he went away convinced I wasn't a long-lost relative. I've made you worry, haven't I?"

"A little," he admitted. "I don't like the idea of anyone asking about us."

She tried to lighten his mood. "It wasn't all bad," she said. "I hadn't studied for my English exam because Eleanor kept me up half the night complaining about some latest slight. Since I was in the office, I got to wait until the following day to take the test."

"I thought you weren't going to put up with Eleanor again."

"I swear to you I wasn't," Mary Rose replied. "No one else would take her for a roommate though, and the mistress practically got down on her hands and knees begging me to take Eleanor in. Poor Eleanor. She has a good heart, honest she does, but she keeps it hidden most of the time. She's still a trial of endurance."

Cole smiled. Eleanor had been the one wrinkle in his sister's otherwise perfect life. Mary Rose was the only student at school who would suffer the young woman's presence. The brothers loved hearing Eleanor stories. They found the woman's antics hysterically funny, and when any of them needed a good laugh, an Eleanor story had to be dredged up.

"Was she as ornery as ever?" he asked, hoping his sister had a new story to tell.

"She was," Mary Rose admitted. "I used to feel guilty telling all of you about her, but then Travis convinced me that since no harm was done and she'd never find out, it was all right. She really can be outrageous. Do you know she left school a full week before everyone else? She didn't even say good-bye. Something was wrong with her father, but she wouldn't tell me what it was. She cried herself to sleep five nights in a row, then she left. I wish she'd confided in me. I would have helped if I could. Her father wasn't ill. I asked the headmistress after Eleanor took off. She wouldn't tell me anything, but she puckered her lips, and she only does that when she is really disgusted about something. Eleanor's father was going to donate a large sum of money so the mistress could build another dormitory. She told me it was all off now. Do you know what she said?"

"No, what?"

"She said she'd been duped. What do you suppose she meant by that?"

"Could be anything."

"Just the night before Eleanor left, I told her that if she ever needed me, all she had to do was come to Rosehill."

"Why'd you go and tell her that?" Cole asked.

"She was being pitiful, crying like a baby," Mary Rose explained. "I wouldn't worry about her showing up at the ranch though. It's too uncivilized out here for her. She's very sophisticated. But she hurt my feelings when she didn't say good-bye. I was her only friend, after all. I wasn't a very good friend though, was I?"

"Why do you think you weren't?"

"You know why," she replied. "I tell stories about her and that isn't at all nice. Friends shouldn't talk about each other."

"You only told us about incidents that really happened, and you defended her to everyone at school. You never talked about her there, did you?"

"No."

"Then I don't see the harm. You've never criticized her, not even to us."

"Yes, but…"

"You also made sure she was invited to all the parties. Because of you, she was never left out."

"How did you know I did that?"

"I know you. You're always looking out for the misfits."

"Eleanor is not a misfit."

"See? You're already defending her again."

She smiled. "After I've talked matters over with you I always feel better. Do you really believe the lawyer will quit asking about us?"

"Yes, I do," he answered.

She let out a sigh. "I missed you, Cole."

"I missed you too, brat."

She nudged him with her shoulder again. The talk turned to the ranch. While she'd been away at school, the brothers had purchased another section of land. Travis was in Hammond getting the supplies they needed to fence in a portion of the vast expanse so the horses would have enough grazing space to see them through the winter.

Cole and Mary Rose reached Rosehill a few minutes later. When she was just eight years old, she had named their home. She'd found what she believed were wild roses growing out on the hillside, declared it was a message sent to them from God telling them they were never supposed to leave, and all because her name was Mary Rose and so was her mama's. Adam didn't want to dampen her enthusiasm. For that reason, he didn't tell her the flowers were pink fireweed, not roses. He also felt that naming their ranch might give his sister an added bit of security. The name stuck, and within a year, even the residents of Blue Belle were referring to Clayborne homestead by the fanciful name.

Rosehill sat in the very middle of a valley deep in the Montana Territory. The land was flat around the ranch for nearly a quarter of a mile in every direction. Cole had insisted on building their home in the very center of the flat expanse so he would be able to see anyone trespassing on their land. He didn't like surprises; none of the brothers did, and as soon as the two-story house was finished, he built a lookout above the attic so they would always be able to see anyone trying to sneak up on them.

Majestic, snowcapped mountains provided the backdrop on the north and west sides of the meadow. The east side of the homestead was made up of smaller mountains and hills, which were useless land for ranchers because of their need for rich grazing pasture. Trappers worked the eastern slopes, however, as beaver and bear and timber wolf were still quite plentiful. Occasionally a worn, weary trapper would stop by the house for food and friendly conversation. Adam never turned a hungry man away, and if their guest was in need of a bed for the night, he'd put him in the bunkhouse.

There was only one easy way into the ranch, and that was from the main road that led over the hill from the town of Blue Belle. Outsiders were pretty worn out by the time they reached even the riverboat stop though. If they used wagons to haul their possessions, it usually took them a good day and a half more to reach Blue Belle. Most didn't bother to go farther than Perry or Hammond; only rugged, determined souls, or men on the run, ever continued on. While there were occasional whispers of gold hidden in the mountains to the north, none had actually been found, and that was the only reason the land had stayed uncluttered. Decent, law-abiding families, hoping to homestead free land, crossed the plains in prairie schooners or took their chances on any one of the multitude of riverboats navigating the Missouri River. By the time most of these families got to a large town, they were happy to stay there. It was somewhat civilized in the larger towns, which of course was a powerful lure to the eastern, church-going families. Honest folks cried out for law and order. Vigilante groups heard the call and soon cleaned out all the riffraff hanging around the larger towns, including Hammond.

In the beginning, the vigilantes were a solution, but later they became an even more threatening problem, for some of the men got into the nasty habit of hanging just about anyone they didn't like. Justice was swift and often unserved; hearsay was all the evidence needed to have a man dragged out of his house and hanged from the nearest tree limb. Even wearing a badge gave one no protection from a vigilante group.

The real misfits and gunfighters looking for easy money, who were quick and cunning enough to escape lynching, left the larger towns like Hammond and settled in and around Blue Belle.

For that reason, the town had a well-earned seedy reputation. Still, there were a few good families living in Blue Belle. Adam said it was only because they had got settled in before they realized their mistake.

Mary Rose was never allowed to go into Blue Belle alone. Since Adam never, ever left the ranch, it was up to Travis or Douglas or Cole to escort her on her errands. The brothers all took turns, and if it wasn't convenient for any of them to leave their chores, Mary Rose stayed home.

Cole slowed the horses when they reached the crest of the hill that separated the main road into town from the Clayborne estate. Mary Rose would ask him to stop the minute they reached the last curve that led down into their valley below.

She was as predictable as ever. "Please stop for a minute. I've been away such a long time."

He dutifully stopped the horses and then patiently waited for her next question. It would take her a minute or two. She had to get all emotional first, then her eyes would fill up with tears. "Do you feel it? Right now, do you feel it the way I do?" He smiled. "You ask me that same question every time I bring you home. Yes, I feel it."

He reached for his handkerchief and handed it to her. He'd learned a long time ago to carry one just for her. Once, when she was still a little girl, she'd used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe her nose. He wasn't about to ever let that happen again.

They had a panoramic view of their ranch and the mountains beyond. No matter how she remembered it, every time she came home, the first sight of such beauty would fairly overwhelm her. Adam told her it was because she gloried in God's creation and was humbled by it. She wasn't so certain about that, but the vibration of life coming from the land did stir her as nothing else could. She wanted her brothers to feel it too, this link between God and nature, and Cole would admit, but only to her, that yes, he did feel the pulse of life beating all around them. The land was never quite the same from glance to glance, yet always enduring.

"She's as alive and beautiful as ever, Mary Rose."

"Why is it you and Adam both call Montana a woman?"

"Because she acts like one," Cole answered. He didn't blush or feel embarrassed talking such foolishness, because he knew his sister understood. "She's fickle and vain and won't ever be tamed by any man. She's a woman all right, and the only one I'll ever love."

"You love me."

"You're not a woman, Mary Rose. You're my sister."

She laughed. The sound echoed through the pine trees. Cole picked up the reins and started the horses down the gentle slope. They had lingered long enough.

"If she's a woman, she's taken us into her embrace. I wonder if my roses are beginning to wake up yet."

"You ought to know by now the flowers you found aren't roses. They're pink fireweed."

"I know what they are," she replied. "But they're like roses."

"No, they aren't."

They were already bickering. Mary Rose sighed with contentment. She kept her attention focused on her home. Lord, she was happy to see her ranch again. The clapboard house was rather unimposing, she supposed, but it was still beautiful to her. The porch, or veranda, as Adam liked to call it, ran the length of the house on three sides. In the summer they would sit outside every evening and listen to the music of the night.

She didn't see her eldest brother working outside. "I'll bet Adam is working on his books."

"What makes you think so?"

"It's too nice a day to be cooped up inside unless there was book work to do," she reasoned. "I can't wait to see him. Do hurry, Cole."

She was anxious for the reunion with all of her brothers. She had gifts for everyone, including a box full of books Adam would treasure, drawing paper and new pens for Cole to use when he was designing a new building to add to the ranch, medicine and brushes for Douglas to use on his horses, a new journal for Travis to keep the family history in, several catalogues, seed for the garden she, under Adam's supervision, would plant behind the house, chocolates, and store-bought flannel shirts for all of them.

The reunion was every bit as wonderful as she knew it would be. The family stayed up well into the night talking. Cole didn't tell his brothers about the attorney who had visited Mary Rose's school until after she had gone up to bed. He didn't want her to worry. He was worried, however. None of them believed in coincidences, and so they discussed every possible reason the lawyer could have to want information about the Clayborne family. Douglas and Cole had both done unsavory things when they were youngsters, but time and distance from the gangsters they'd preyed upon had convinced them their crimes had been forgotten. The real concern was for Adam. If the attorney had been hired by the sons of Adam's slave master to track him down, then trouble was coming their way.

Murder, they all knew, would never be forgotten. Adam had taken one life to save two others. It had been accidental, but the circumstances wouldn't be important to the sons. A slave had struck their father.

No, the father's death would never be forgotten or forgiven. It would be avenged.

An hour passed in whispered discussion, and then Adam, as head of the household, declared it was foolish to worry or speculate. If there was indeed a threat, they would have to wait to find out what it was.

"And then?" Cole asked.

"We do whatever it takes to protect each other," Adam said.

"We aren't going to let anyone hang you, Adam. You only did what you had to do," Travis said.

"We're borrowing trouble," Adam said. "We'll keep our guard up and wait."

The discussion ended. A full month passed in peaceful solitude. It was business as usual, and Travis and Douglas were both beginning to think that perhaps nothing would ever come from the lawyer's inquiry.

The threat finally presented itself. His name was Harrison Stanford MacDonald, and he was the man who would tear all of their lives apart.

He was the enemy.

November 12, 1860

Dear Mama Rose,

Yore sun wanted me to show off my writing skil and so I am writing this her letter to you. We all work on gramer and speling afther Mary Rose goes to sleepe. Yore sun is a fine teecher. He dont lauf when we make misteaks and he always has good to say when we dun fore the nite. Since we are brothurs now I gues you belong to me to.

Yore sun,

Cole