RUNAWAY ROSE
Chapter Ninety-Five
In the months that followed, Jack and Rose
went to live at the ranch that Esther had willed to Rose and began to make a
home of it.
The house that Rose had shared with Esther
was still there, though it needed some repairs after being abandoned for
several months. Many of the outbuildings were also still in existence, but the
shed that had housed the airplane had fallen in, the early spring rains finally
taking it down.
Rose showed Jack every inch of the land, her
joy in returning home obvious. They walked over the vast acres of the ranch,
through the section of the valley that it encompassed and over the low, rolling
hills. The autumn land was brown and dry, but Rose knew that with work, and
with the coming of spring, the land could be made to bloom.
The Dawsons quickly decided that running
cattle was beyond their abilities—and their finances. Despite the money that
Rose had received from the reward, they still had limited funds and had to be
cautious with money, looking for the best ways to use what they had.
It was Rose who decided that truck farming—the
growing of fruits and vegetables for the local market—was the best way to use
the land, but it was Jack who helped her get started. Having grown up on a
farm, he knew more about running one than Rose did, even with the varied
experience she had gained in her years of wandering.
Jack made his way out into the open valley
every day, even when Rose did not accompany him, to see where the crop fields
could be laid, where water would come from, and where the best places to grow
each thing were. Although the warm, dry land of Southern California was a world
away from the Wisconsin farm where he had grown up, some things were the same
wherever he went.
And so, the Dawsons began a truck farm—the
first of its kind in the valley, which had always been used for running cattle
before. Some of the townspeople watched skeptically, not believing that their
plan would work. No one had ever tried large-scale farming in the area before.
Kitchen gardens and small fields, yes, but never had anyone tried to make a
living from agriculture there before. But Jack and Rose were determined to make
it work.
They hired people to dig irrigation ditches
from a spring at the base of the hills to the fields, and hired others to plow
the land and help plant the seeds. Few people believed that they would succeed,
but in January, when they first began bringing produce into town to sell,
people changed their minds.
They were some miles from San Diego, but
close enough that Rose was able to make contracts to sell produce to some
merchants there who would send buyers out to them. While on one of her trips to
the city, Rose impulsively invested in orange trees—something she had seen
growing all around Riverside, but had never seen in such large quantities
elsewhere. She planted them herself in a warm spot where water flowed but did
not flood, and soon her orchard was thriving.
Jack had set up his art studio soon after
they arrived, using the room that Rose had described to him. At first, he did
not spend as much time working there as he had expected—there was the land to
explore, and repairs to be made to the buildings, and a farm to plan. Much of
his energy was used in helping Rose to get her farm started, and in making
repairs—most did not require much strength, or the ability to climb.
To Jack’s surprise, he was growing stronger,
needing the walking stick less and less, especially after they bought two
horses for the farm and began riding them every day. The exercise strengthened
him, even in his bad leg, which would always be weak. His limp, while still
there, was less pronounced, becoming almost unnoticeable when he walked slowly.
Jack soon found a way to use his artistic
talents to help Rose in her venture—drawing plans for the irrigation ditches
and fields, recording on paper the best ways to grow the crops that Rose had
selected, knowing what would grow well there after her time with Esther. In
spite of his initial misgivings, the ranch, now turned to a farm, thrived under
their combined work.
Rose also planted a kitchen garden for their
own use, and invested in a few animals—not enough for the herds that were so
common in the region, but enough for their own use—a cow, some chickens, the
horses—and a few sheep. She had a fondness for the woolly, brainless creatures,
who were so adept at clearing weeds from a field. She wasn’t sure how to shear
them, having never kept sheep before, but she was confident that she would
learn, as she had learned a thousand other skills since she had left
Philadelphia so long ago.
But change was not the only thing taking place
on the ranch. Sometimes, old things reappeared, sometimes without rhyme or
reason.
One frosty morning late in December, Rose
stepped out the front door to take care of the livestock—and almost tripped
over the animal curled up in the doorway. The creature jumped, startled, and
then turned, jumping up and licking her face, yelping with delight.
"Tripper!"
Rose grabbed the dog’s head, ruffling the fur
and laughing. Tripper dropped to the ground, running in circles and stumbling
over his own paws, almost tumbling off the porch in his enthusiasm. Rose
laughed with joy as she watched him.
Jack came out, wondering what was going on.
His eyes widened at the sight of Rose doubled over with laughter, her eyes
following the antics of the large husky mix frolicking on the porch.
Tripper noticed him then and ran over to
investigate. Rose followed, ready to restrain the dog if he should threaten to
attack—Tripper had always been suspicious of strangers. But, amazingly, after
sniffing Jack over, the dog decided to accept him, jumping up to lick his face
with such enthusiasm that he knocked Jack over.
As Rose helped him up, pushing the
enthusiastic canine out of the way, she commented, "It’s strange how
easily he’s accepted you. He’s never liked strangers. Maybe he senses that you
belong here."
"Who—what—is that?" Jack sputtered,
not sure what was going on.
"It’s Tripper," she explained,
crouching down to hug the animal. "He’s been my boon companion since
Alaska. I thought he was gone, vanished while I was in Mexico." She petted
the dog’s thick fur, picking out a few burs and foxtails. "Where have
been, you big mutt? I thought I’d never see you again."
But Tripper couldn’t tell her where he’d
been, and she never discovered where he’d gone during those months—if perhaps
he had gone looking for her and gotten lost, or if he’d gone off with someone
else, or been taken away. Whatever had happened, he was back, and never left
her side again in all his days. He accepted Jack, but Rose was the one he
followed everywhere, accompanying her wherever she went. Even after a stray
female made her way to the farm and the two dogs started their own pack, he
still followed Rose, more attached to her than he would ever be to one of his
own kind.
Tripper was not the only one who made his way
to the farm that winter, however. Early in February, as Jack and Rose awkwardly
made their way around the barn and sheds, caring for the animals—Jack moving
awkwardly from his crippled leg, and Rose from her advancing pregnancy—they
were startled by the approach of a stranger who came to the front gate and
stopped, calling out uncertainly.
"Hello!"
Jack looked up from his work, setting aside
the milk pail he had been carrying back to the house. He gave Tripper a stern
look—the dog would gorge himself on fresh milk, and then lie in misery for
days, if allowed to—and started towards the gate. A moment later, Rose joined
him, moving politely but warily towards the man standing on the road going into
the property. They were always wary of strangers, but most meant no harm,
wanting only food or water. A few had been hired on temporarily.
Rose walked slowly toward the man, trying to
place him. He looked strangely familiar, but she had seen so many people that
she wasn’t sure. He could just be a stranger—but she was sure she recognized
him.
"Rose?" he asked uncertainly. Then,
remembering his manners, he corrected himself, "Miss Dawson?"
Suddenly, Rose knew who he was. He was older,
more mature, but she knew him.
"Gabe! Gabe Cane!" She rushed
forward, hugging him, while Jack once again looked on in confusion, wondering
what was going on. "Where have you been? Robert said that you left for
California the day after Alice’s funeral, but...have you been around here all
this time?"
"I’ve been all over," he told her.
"It took a couple of years to get to California—I didn’t have much money—and
I’ve been working ever since. I was passing through Aguanga and heard about the
Dawson farm, so I had to come and see if the Rose Dawson people mentioned was
you."
"It’s me," Rose confirmed. She
turned to Jack, motioning him over. "Gabe, this is my husband, Jack
Dawson. Jack, this is Gabe Cane, who I knew when I lived in New York."
"Hello." Jack shook Gabe’s hand,
looking at the young man a little suspiciously. He wasn’t sure if he trusted
this man from Rose’s past.
Gabe looked at Jack in confusion, and then at
Rose. "So you’re Mrs. Dawson? Where was he when you were in New
York?"
Rose sighed. "It’s a long story. We were
only married a few months ago."
"And you’re already expecting a
baby." Gabe had noticed Rose’s swollen middle. "It’s strange—I was
always sure that you and Robert would end up together."
A look of sadness crossed Rose’s face.
"We did, for a time. We were married in 1914—and Robert died in
1915." She shook her head to dispel the memories. "Will you join us
for breakfast? The bread I was baking should be done by now."
Gabe nodded his assent, following them to the
house.
In spite of his initial misgivings, Jack soon
came to like Gabe, once he was certain that Gabe had no designs on Rose. He
proved to be an adept farm worker, having learned his skills in the San Joaquin
Valley to the north in his early years in California. They soon hired him to
oversee the farm, their only permanent employee. Although they offered him a
small building to turn into a house on the property, he preferred to live in
town, leaving the Dawsons their privacy.
And so the winter passed, and spring came—and
with it the birth of Jack and Rose’s child.