“Yes, I’m Martha McWhirter.” The woman came down the steps to stand beside the buggy. “Founder and proprietress of the Woman’s Commonwealth. I want to start by thanking you for your generous donations to our organization all these years.”
“Oh, you’re welcome, but I’m actually Mrs.—”
“She’s still Miss Caldwell.” Yuri cut her off, then hopped down from the buggy and came around the back of it to greet Mrs. McWhirter.
The woman watched Yuri’s movement’s with narrowed eyes, almost as though she distrusted something about him wanting to greet her. “I’ve explained the rules to you by letter, Mr. Amos. No men are allowed on the property. If you’ll kindly empty Miss Caldwell’s things from the wagon and deposit them here, the women and I are perfectly capable of seeing they are delivered to her room.”
Yuri wasn’t allowed on the property? At all? Rosalind’s eyebrows winged up.
But Yuri was already nodding his head at Mrs. McWhirter, clearly unsurprised by her instructions. “Of course. Just give me a minute.”
He climbed into the back of the wagon and slid her trunks to the edge, then grabbed the smaller suitcase she’d carried withher on the train. Rosalind used the time to climb down from the wagon, careful not to do anything that might aggravate her ribs.
She would have stepped to the back of the wagon next to pick up her suitcase, but Mrs. McWhirter reached out and gripped her hand.
“I want to thank you again for your donations. We’ve been able to finish the new dormitory so every woman has her own room. The windmill you paid for last year keeps our laundry yard supplied with water, and we’ve added more troughs and clotheslines so we can take in work from Belton. We used some of your funds to purchase barbed wire too, so we now have enough fencing to keep the entire property fenced in, plus have pens for all the livestock.”
She smiled. “I’m so glad to hear it. I can’t wait to see everything for myself.”
The portly woman smiled right back at her. “I’m more than happy to give you a tour.”
“Here’s the last of everything.” Yuri set the final trunk on the ground, then glanced up at the white clapboard house. “Are you sure you don’t want help taking her trunks to her room?”
Mrs. McWhirter bristled. “Quite sure. Thank you.”
He cut his gaze away from the other woman and took a step closer to Rosalind. “How are your ribs?”
“They’re all right.” She pressed a hand to the worst of her injuries. It still wasn’t fully healed, but it was getting better every day.
He handed her smallest suitcase to Mrs. McWhirter. “She’ll need some extra tending until her fractures heal fully. The doctors say it should be at least two more weeks of rest and binding, but she might need longer.”
“We’re careful with all of our women, Mr. Amos.” Mrs. McWhirter took the suitcase, her voice clipped. “Now if you’llkindly vacate our premises. You’re making some of our residents nervous.”
Once again, Rosalind felt her brows pinch. She looked around the property, which now held even more women, many of them trying to look busy while pretending not to watch them.
She might not have met the women yet, but she wanted to call out that they had no reason to be nervous around Yuri. He was the kindest, most gentle man she’d ever known.
But Yuri didn’t defend himself. He merely stepped back from the luggage, wiped his hands on his trousers, and nodded once more.
It shouldn’t have hurt, the way he stood there silently, so close and yet so distant, but it did.
His gaze finally drifted to her, and he gave her a small nod. “Good-bye, Ros.”
“Wait.” She rushed to his side before he could climb onto the wagon. He didn’t intend to say good-bye to her like this, did he? Without so much as even a hug? “Where are you going? You’re not headed back to San Francisco yet, are you?”
“The stage comes twice a week. I’ll be at the boarding house for two more days.”
Her throat turned dry. “What if I don’t want you to leave?”
He shook his head. “You know that’s not possible.”
“And the annulment?”
“I doubt there’s a telegraph line that runs to Belton, but there should be one in Waco. I’ll send a telegram from there when I travel through on my way to San Francisco. The papers should get filed sometime next week.”
It all felt so final. She couldn’t stand the thought of saying good-bye, not to the one man she’d been able to trust back in Sitka, not to the man who’d taken time to see her as more than just the daughter of the richest person in town. Not to the manwho’d crawled into bed with her and held her tight for nearly three weeks.
She couldn’t say good-bye to him. Not yet. Not like this. She reached out and fisted a hand in his shirt. “Will you come back? To say good-bye at least?”
