RUNAWAY ROSE
Chapter Eighty-Five

Jack turned, surprised, as Rose darted past him. Her angry, frightened exclamation had been audible above the sounds of music playing and people talking, but he had no idea what had upset her so.

Señor Ortiz rushed past him, pursuing the fleeing woman. As he did so, Jack reached out and grabbed his arm, nearly unbalancing both of them. As the man turned, shocked, Jack grabbed his collar.

"What in the hell did you say to her?" he demanded, his voice rising above the shocked whispers and murmurs of people staring in the direction Rose had gone.

Ortiz shoved him away. "All I did was offer her a reward."

"A reward? For what? Did you proposition her?"

"Proposition her?" Ortiz looked at Jack as though he had lost his mind. "Far from it. She killed a man in Mexico for whom there was a large bounty offered. Juan Guerrero was a notorious criminal—"

"Shit! That was the worst thing you could possibly have said to her. She’s never forgiven herself for killing him." Jack hurried in the direction Rose had run, calling after her. "Rose! Rose!"

He reached the entrance to the reception hall, nearly knocking over the coat check girl in his haste. There was no sign of Rose, only the still audible clacking of her high-heeled shoes on the pavement as she fled.

"Go get the Hockleys! Now!" he demanded of Señor Ortiz. "We have to stop her before she runs away again."

"I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about—"

"Do what I say!"

Ortiz hurried off. Jack didn’t realize that he was brandishing his walking stick threateningly until he saw the crowd of people staring at him. Slowly, he lowered it to the floor, leaning on it as the full realization of what had just happened sank into him. Rose was trying to run again. If they didn’t reach the Hockley mansion before she did, it was doubtful that they would ever find her. She would change her name and appearance, disappearing before anyone could track her down.

He wasn’t entirely certain why she was so upset, but he knew that he couldn’t let her run away again. Not after they had finally found each other again. Not when she was expecting a child.

The Hockleys came rushing up, Señor Ortiz and his family in hot pursuit. "What happened?" Ruth demanded. "Where did Rose go?"

"I think she went back to the mansion," Jack told her, gesturing in the direction he had heard the footsteps in. "She’s very upset..."

"Maybe we should just leave her alone for a while, then," Nathan suggested. "Give her a chance to calm down."

Jack shook his head. "If we don’t hurry, she’s going to run off again. Chances are we’ll never find her if she does."

"What do you mean, she’ll run off again?" Ruth wanted to know.

"Every time things go wrong, she runs. That’s what she’s been doing for the last five years. Running away."

"My God," Ruth whispered, as the full implications hit her. "She’s expecting a child. She can’t just disappear."

"She’ll try—and she’ll probably succeed," Jack told them grimly. "She’s hidden for years. Only a few people have ever seen her once she decided to leave a place behind."

"We’re leaving now," Ruth decided. "Nathan, have the car brought around."

Nathan looked reluctant, still not convinced that they needed to go after Rose, but a cutting glare from his wife changed his mind. He quickly directed one of the waiters to go to the parking area and have his chauffeur bring the car around.

Jack paced agitatedly while they waited, his limp becoming more pronounced as he worried about what Rose might do and where she might go. Rose was a strong, self-sufficient woman who could take care of herself—but it wasn’t just her anymore. There was a baby to think about. She had already lost one child; he didn’t think she could bear to lose another. And he didn’t want to think about losing her again.

The Hockley car pulled up, the chauffeur hurrying to open the doors for them. The Ortiz’s car was right behind it. In minutes, they were on their way to the Hockleys’ home.

*****

Rose threw open the front door with a bang, then flew down the hall and up the stairs. She was reminded acutely of another day when she had done the same thing in a different mansion in Philadelphia. Then she had been running from Cal and the life that was being forced upon her. Now, she was fleeing for the sake of her baby.

She didn’t want to run again. Not this time. Not when she was beginning to find peace again. In just a few weeks, she and Jack were to be married. She had at last reconciled with her mother, and was again beginning to think of what good things the future might hold.

But she didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t bring her baby into the world in some dark, dirty prison in a foreign country. It would die there—or it would be taken from her and given to someone who could raise it properly. Either way, she would lose the child she had wanted for so long.

Rose began to toss her belongings into her bag, cramming everything that she could into it. She didn’t bother to take the time to change her clothes. She had to get away, and quickly. Her baby was depending upon her.

Kathleen knocked at Rose’s door. "Mrs. Calvert, are you all right?"

She froze, trying to decide what to do. Kathleen had helped her to escape from her marriage to Cal, but the situation was different this time. She couldn’t ask the young woman to help her escape from the law. She might not help, and even if she did, it could mean trouble for her. Rose’s troubles were her own fault; she couldn’t pull anyone else into them.

Kathleen knocked again. "Mrs. Calvert?"

Voices came from downstairs—Jack, Ruth, Nathan...Señor Ortiz.

Panic welled up inside Rose. Grabbing her half-packed bag, she slammed it shut, running to the door. She didn’t have everything she needed, but it didn’t matter. She had survived by her wits before, and she would again.

"Mrs. Calvert?" Kathleen looked at her in shock as Rose pushed her aside and ran past her, eyes darting from side to side. She had never seen Rose so upset—she was shaking with fear, her face red from the long run in the summer heat.

Rose stopped suddenly, whirling around to face her. "The servant’s staircase—where is it?" she demanded, staring at Kathleen intently.

Before the maid could respond, Nathan and Ruth Hockley appeared at the top of the stairs, Señor Ortiz right behind them. Rose could hear the sound of Jack’s walking stick thumping on the stairs as he followed them.

Not waiting for Kathleen’s answer, Rose ran down the hall. She could hear her mother shouting after her to stop, but she paid her no heed. She had to get away. She had to.

Rose began throwing open doors, looking for an escape route. She wasn’t yet completely familiar with the huge mansion, and had no idea where the back staircase might be. There had to be one; the servants rarely used the same staircase as the owners of the house, and they moved up and down the stairs all day.

The end of the hallway loomed before her. There were three doors left. Looking behind her, she could see that the others were fast closing in on her. Nathan looked bewildered, Ruth upset, and Señor Ortiz determined. Jack called her name as she picked up speed, determined to escape.

Throwing open the first door, she jumped back as a shriek came from the room—she had interrupted a pair of servants enjoying a tryst while their employers were away. Darting on, she threw open the last door on the left. There was no more time or space to run.

Slamming the door behind her, she ran inside—only to find herself trapped. There was no way out of the room, and no lock on the door. There was no escape.

Rose ran to the one window and looked out, but immediately realized that there was no way to climb down. She was on the second floor, with nothing between the window and the ground but sheer wall. There was no way to lower herself to the ground, and she couldn’t risk jumping.

She whirled around as the door flew open. Señor Ortiz approached her.

"Mrs. Calvert—"

"Stay back!" she shouted, her voice shrill with panic. "Don’t come any closer!"

He moved closer, not sure how to handle her. She was hysterical, her eyes wide with panic. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why she was so frightened.

Instinctively, Rose reached for the nearest object—a silver candlestick. With all her strength, she grabbed it, trying to bring it down on Ortiz’s head.

Abruptly, the candlestick was knocked from her hand. Rose gasped in shock as Jack pushed her away from the shelf of knickknacks, keeping her from grabbing another weapon. Knocked off balance, she felt herself falling, only to be caught by another pair of arms.

Ruth steadied her daughter as Rose struggled to escape. She had never witnessed such an emotional display. Rose was screaming, her face red from exertion. She jerked wildly against her mother’s grip, trying desperately to escape.

Jack and Nathan helped Ruth restrain her daughter. Rose was struggling hysterically, her face contorted with anger, fear, and desperation—a dangerous combination. There was no telling what she might do.

"Rose, stop!" Jack shouted. "It’s all right!"

"The hell it is!" Rose shouted back. "I’m not going to prison! I won’t! My baby will die there!"

"Prison?" Ruth asked. "What are you talking about?"

"I didn’t want to kill that man! It was self-defense! Don’t you understand? Don’t I even get a fair trial?"

"You’re not going to prison," Señor Ortiz told her. His wife and daughter were watching the whole scene in shock.

"Not if I can help—" Rose broke off, Ortiz’s words slowly penetrating her mind. "What do you mean, I’m not going to prison?" She stopped struggling, but remained tense, ready to break free at the slightest provocation.

"Juan Guerrero was the most wanted man in Mexico. He was also wanted in several border towns in the United States. There was a substantial reward for his capture, dead or alive, equivalent to about five thousand dollars. Once I’ve contacted the proper authorities, they’ll send you the reward."

A reward? Rose thought. I’m being rewarded for taking someone’s life? Oh, God. I can’t take this. I just wanted it to be forgotten. I’ll never be able to get away from it now.

Her breathing came faster and faster as the news sank into her mind. She felt dizzy, light-headed. "Rose? Are you all right?" Jack asked, but she heard him as though from a great distance. "Rose, calm down—"

It was too late. Even as Jack said the words, Rose crumpled, fainting into her mother’s arms.

*****

Some time later, Rose awakened in her bedroom. She lying atop her bed, her clothing loosened and a light blanket covering her. Kathleen was nearby, keeping watch. When she saw that Rose was awake, she slipped from the room, hurrying to tell Ruth.

Rose turned her head when she felt someone take her hands. Jack was sitting on the edge of the bed, still dressed in his formal attire. He was looking at her with worry, which changed to relief when he saw that she was awake.

"How do you feel?" he asked, stroking her hands.

"I...I..." Rose didn’t know what to say. Suddenly overwhelmed, she burst into tears, tossing the blanket aside and flinging herself into Jack’s arms.

Jack held her close. "Shh, Rose, shh. It’s all right. Everything is going to be all right."

"I promised I wouldn’t run again, but I had to. I couldn’t give birth to our baby in prison. It would die there—or be taken away. I’ve already lost one child—I couldn’t lose this one, too."

"You’re not going to prison, Rose. Whatever gave you the idea that you were?"

"Señor Ortiz told me that he was going to contact the authorities..."

"About the reward."

"I didn’t know that I was going to be rewarded. He mentioned a reward, but who would give a foreigner who killed a citizen a reward?"

"He was wanted on both sides of the border, Rose. You’re a heroine."

"No, I’m not. I’m a murderer. I didn’t have to kill him—I could have shot him someplace that would have stopped him, but not killed him. He wasn’t alone. The others could have helped him—if they were awake enough. They were all drunk, but still—"

"But he killed a lot of innocent people. If you hadn’t killed him, someone else would have eventually. At least you had a good reason. You didn’t do it for the money."

"I don’t want the money. No one should be rewarded for murder."

"It wasn’t murder. It was self-defense. You did it to survive."

"It was murder. I killed him, and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself. Other people might think it was an act of heroism, but I’ll always know the truth. No one should ever kill another person, Jack. You don’t know how it feels. I took away his life, everything that he was and might have been in the future. It was no different from Cal killing those women. Neither of us had the right to decide who would live and who would die, no matter why we did it."

"Cal had a choice when he killed those women. Guerrero had a choice when he killed all those people. You never had a choice. It was you or him, and it was better that you lived than him. You have a conscience. You care about other people, and you won’t deliberately hurt them like he did. I talked to Señor Ortiz while you were unconscious. Juan Guerrero’s reputation preceded him. He had no conscience. People meant nothing to him. He would as soon kill someone as look at them. You’re not like that."

"Maybe not, but it still doesn’t excuse what I did. And what is choice, really? Did Cal really have a choice when he killed those women? He was a madman, Jack. He might have believed that what he was doing was right. How do I know that Guerrero was any different?"

"You don’t. You never will." Jack spoke to her steadily. "But you can’t change what happened. Whatever his reasons were, he was a dangerous predator, one that the world is better off without. If nothing else, you should accept the reward money because you did the world a favor, removing a dangerous person from it."

"He’ll only be replaced by another. There’s bad people all over the world."

"But more who are good."

"I still don’t want that reward. It’s blood money, a payment for taking the life of someone else."

Jack sighed. "Rose, Señor Ortiz has already sent a telegram to the authorities in Mexico. Your reward should arrive soon."

"No!"

"You deserve it, after what he and his gang put you through. It’s time to let go of your guilt."

"I can’t, Jack. I can’t let go of my guilt anymore than I can let go of my memories. He’ll always be there in my mind—just like Marietta. And if I accept the money as payment for what his gang put me through, then I’m nothing more than a whore—taking money in exchange for my favors. I won’t accept it. I can’t."

"I don’t think you have much of a choice."

"I’ve always had a choice. I won’t accept it. That’s all there is to it." She pulled away from him, lying down and pulling the blanket over herself. "Leave, Jack. I want to be alone."

Chapter Eighty-Six
Stories