RUNAWAY ROSE
Chapter Ninety-Four
October 6, 1917
It was not until the next day, after they had
boarded the train and begun the journey west again, that Rose told Jack of her
inheritance. In the midst of Jack’s relief that Rose had not run again, and
Rose’s own joy in the knowledge that she had overcome herself, the reason for
the lawyer’s assistant seeking her out had been forgotten. But when they
settled into their seats and left Chippewa Falls the next day, Rose knew that
the time had come to tell him.
"Jack," she began, reaching into
the bag at her feet. "I never did tell you the reason why Mr. Jennings
sought me out."
Remembering why Rose had come near to running
again, Jack turned to her, unable to hide his concern—and his curiosity.
"Why did he come looking for you? You aren’t in trouble again, are
you?"
Rose shook her head, laughing softly.
"Not this time. No, he came looking for me for a good reason." She
pulled the papers from her bag and handed them to him.
"What’s this?" He looked at the
papers, not understanding.
"These are legal documents. The old
woman who I lived with, Esther Henke, changed her will shortly before she died.
Her will had originally stipulated that everything was to be inherited by her
grandson, William Henke. Even before she sent me to Mexico to look for him, she
had made a few changes that I knew about, granting me a few items that had
special meaning to me. The airplane was one of them. However, William—Guillermo,
as he preferred to be called—was not always responsible. He had a great passion
for life, and for what he believed in, but the ranch that was his heritage had
never really interested him. He preferred the idea of being a Villista, a revolutionary
fighting for a great cause, even if it was for another country. I went to look
for him, and eventually found him, but it was with great reluctance that he
agreed to accompany me back to the United States. Even if I had brought him
back successfully, there was no guarantee that he would have taken up the
responsibilities that had been laid out for him. Esther knew him, and knew how
he felt—but she didn’t want the land that had been in her family for over a
century to simply be sold off if he didn’t want it. Her family had kept the
land only because of her marriage to an American—but it could still be sold off
if it was unclaimed upon Esther’s death. Unbeknownst to me, she put a provision
in her will that if Guillermo did not want the property, or if he died—something
likely enough for a revolutionary—the ranch would go to me."
It took a moment for her words to sink in.
"And so you inherited the ranch. But why did she choose someone not of her
family? And why didn’t you take control of the ranch when you returned to
California?"
Rose looked out the window for a moment,
watching the scenery outside the train. At last, she turned back to Jack.
"I think Esther knew that the ranch was
one of the few places I had ever really been able to call home. Although I am
no relation to her, she knew how much I respected and appreciated the land and
all that she and her forebears had done to keep it and make it prosperous. She
wanted someone who loved the land as well as she did to have it. In her will,
she called me the granddaughter of her heart. Esther was like a mother to me in
the time that I lived with her. In many ways, I was closer to her than I ever
was to my own mother."
Jack nodded, understanding the bond that
could grow between people, sometimes without any understandable reason. He had
known such things, too—Fabrizio had been like a brother to him, and he had
mourned his friend’s death as strongly as he had mourned the death of his own
brother in Chippewa Falls so many years before. More, perhaps, because he had
been a grown man, able to understand the meaning of death and loss when his
closest friend had died, while he had been only a child at the time of his
brother’s death.
Rose was silent for a moment, lost in her
memories. When she looked up, she carefully took the papers from Jack and
sorted through them.
"I didn’t claim the ranch upon my return
to California because I didn’t know that it had been willed to me. I was in
shock, in a way, after what happened in Mexico, and filled with guilt because I
hadn’t succeeded in bringing Guillermo back. I dreaded having to tell Esther
that he had died in the airplane crash, and then felt even more guilty when I
was relieved at not having to tell her. I went back to the ranch, but she had
died two weeks before I returned. There didn’t seem to be any reason to stay—with
both Esther and Guillermo dead, I thought that the ranch would be sold off to
the highest bidder, so I couldn’t stay there. Mr. Brinkley, Esther’s lawyer,
tried to talk to me while I was in town, but I brushed him off and left. I was
sure that I already knew what he was going to say, but I didn’t want to hear
it. I took my few possessions and left, and had no real address until we moved
to Los Angeles. It would have been very hard to track me down, and it was only
after an article was published in the newspaper about how I killed Guerrero
that they knew where to find me—it said that I was staying with the Hockleys in
Philadelphia. Once Mr. Brinkley’s assistant tracked me down, he was able to give
me the information."
"And you now own a ranch in
California."
"We own a ranch in California.
What is mine is also yours, now that we’re married."
He nodded thoughtfully. "And do you plan
to go there, to claim it?"
"I’ve already claimed it, and signed the
papers."
Jack shook his head, realizing that he hadn’t
made himself clear. "I meant, what do you plan to do with it? Do you want
to go there to live? Do you want to sell it? It’s up to you."
Rose looked down at her hands, considering.
When Jennings had told her of her inheritance, she hadn’t thought beyond the
fact that the place she had called home was now hers. She hadn’t thought about
how things might be for Jack. Would he want to live there? Would he be capable
of the rugged work necessary to run a ranch?
She looked at him, and at the walking stick
that was never far from his hand. He didn’t have the physical strength that she
did, and probably never would. Remembering how difficult the work he had been
doing when they first met again had been for him, she doubted that he would be
able to run the ranch. The paperwork would be easy enough for him, but the
harder physical work might be too much.
And yet, she wanted to try. She herself was
strong and healthy, able to work hard, though she would have to slow down for
her coming baby. She could hire people to work, perhaps change the way the
ranch was run, or what was produced. She had lived there long enough, and
observed enough, to know that there were options beyond keeping cattle—dry
farming, or keeping sheep or horses were among the ideas that had crossed her
mind.
"I want to try living there," she
told him at last. "It’s home to me, more than any other place I’ve ever
lived. I have so many ideas of things that we could try..."
Jack looked at the papers in her hands, and
then down at his walking stick and crippled leg. He knew how much this meant to
Rose, but what would he do there? He knew his physical limitations, even though
he often struggled against them, wanting to do more, wanting to be capable of
what he could do before the polio. It wasn’t likely that he would ever
completely recover, though, and he knew it. As much as this meant to Rose, they
still had to live together, to face the reality of what their lives were like.
"I don’t know, Rose," he told her
at last. "I don’t know if I could handle it. I worked on ranches a few
times years ago after I left Chippewa Falls. I know how much work it is, and I
don’t think I can do that now."
"Maybe you wouldn’t have to," Rose
told him, her eyes lighting as an idea came to her. "Jack, I still have
the money from the reward. I never wanted it, but...maybe I can make something
good of it." She paused, thinking. "I could use it to make the ranch
work again—not just because I want to, but because it would honor the Henke
family. It was Guerrero and his bandits who killed Guillermo, and it would only
be right that I use the money from the reward to rebuild what the Henke family
once had. Guillermo might never have taken over the ranch, worked it and made
it prosper, but it was still a part of his heritage. And Esther wanted me to
have it—she knew that I loved and appreciated the land, and knew that I could
do what it took to make it prosperous. In her memory, and in Guillermo’s honor,
I want to try to make it work."
Jack nodded, thinking about what she had
said. It was a chance for Rose to put her painful past behind her by turning
the sorrows of her life into something worthwhile. But there was still the
question of what he would do—even if Rose could make it work, he wouldn’t be
able to simply sit back and do nothing. He had worked his entire life, and to
be idle was contrary to his nature and to the way he was raised. He had to do
something.
"It could work," he told her
carefully, "but what would I do? I’ve never simply been able to do
nothing. And I couldn’t let you do all the work alone, especially not with a
baby on the way."
Rose thought about his words, her mind going
over ways to solve this problem. Then she smiled. "What have you always
done, Jack? What has always been your passion?"
He glanced at her, wondering why she asked.
She already knew the answer. "Art. It’s always been art."
"Then this would be a chance for you to
do what you’ve always enjoyed. It’s a wide, beautiful land there, open valleys
and rolling hills, small towns scattered around. The house is small—but still
large enough that we could raise a family there and still have room for other
things, especially if we added rooms onto it. You told me once that you dreamed
of being able to settle down and just work on your art—and maybe here, you
could. There’s a room with a large window that catches the morning sunlight,
and another window that gets the light of late afternoon. It would be perfect
as an art studio."
Jack rubbed his chin, tempted by the thought
of what she was describing. The idea of being able to work on his art full time
appealed to him, and he was already mulling over where such a plan might lead.
They had to do something, go somewhere, and the ranch that Rose had inherited
sounded like as good a place as any. Rose could run the ranch, and he could
work on his art—and perhaps they could make things work together, his work a
part of Rose’s, and Rose’s work a part of his. It was certainly worth trying.
He looked at Rose, who was watching him
hopefully, wondering what he was thinking. "I think we can try it,"
he told her, smiling. "Maybe together we can make it work."