Thomas whistled low. “You want to bring a saloon singer up here to help Mrs. Wang?”
Heat flared through him. “She’s not a saloon singer.” And why did his brothers keep insinuating she was? “She sings in a theater there. Rose is a respectable woman who happens to have a beautiful voice. And she’s family—or close enough.”
Robert’s brows lifted. “Even if she’d be willing to leave Virginia City, why would she want to come back here? If she’s performing, she’s probably making good money. Better than what we would pay for household help.”
James’s gut twisted at that very logical statement. Perhaps he could kick in more funds from his portion of the ranch proceeds. “Money isn’t everything, Robert. Maybe she’d welcome the chance to be somewhere…” He paused, searching for the right words. “Somewhere she belongs.”
“You’re assuming a lot about what she wants,” Enoch said quietly. “About what her life is like now.”
The weight of truth in his brother’s words settled like a load of rocks on his shoulders. He was assuming. He’d been assuming for years that Rose might want to hear from him, that she might miss what they’d shared here before her mother took her away. The unanswered letters he’d sent through the years were proof enough of how wrong his assumptions might be.
“Besides,” Thomas added, “if she’s performing under a stage name, she might not want her past following her. Some people leave for a reason.”
James clenched his jaw. “She didn’t leave by choice. She was a child. Her mother made that decision.”
“And now she’s a grown woman who can make her own choices.” Robert eyed him. “Including choosing not to return.”
The logic was sound, but it did nothing to squelch the restless energy building in James’s chest. He’d spent too many years wondering about Rose, too many nights staring at the stars and remembering the sound of her laughter echoing through these rooms. What kind of life had she built for herself? Was she happy? Did she ever think of their childhood together, or had she put all of that behind her? Put him and his family out of her mind?
At last, he sighed. “Maybe she wouldn’t. But it can’t hurt to ask. The worst she can do is say no.”
Enoch was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on something beyond the window. When he spoke, his tone was gentle. “If you want to reach out to her, James, you have my blessing. We’d all love to have Rose back if she’s willing.” He looked around the table at his other brothers, who nodded in agreement. “But don’t get your hopes too high. People change. Circumstances change.”
“I know.” But even as he said it, a spark of hope kindled in his chest. Just the possibility of seeing Rose again, of hearing her songs fill these rooms once more, made something inside him come alive.
The scrape of chairs against the wood floor broke the stillness as his brothers pushed back from the table.
“Well then.” Enoch stood and stretched his arms above his head. “I suppose we have our answer. At least a plan to try.”
Thomas clapped James on the shoulder as he passed. “Good luck, brother. I hope she says yes.”
Robert lingered a moment longer, his expression thoughtful. “Just remember what Enoch said. Don’t build this up too much in your mind.”
James dipped his chin, though his pulse had already quickened with possibility. “I’ll be careful.”
While his brothers headed outside, he climbed the stairs to his room. The familiar creak of the seventh step, the way the afternoon light slanted through the hallway window—everything felt different now, charged with the potential of change.
His room faced west toward the mountains, and he stood at the window for a moment, watching the peaks catch the late afternoon sun. Somewhere beyond those mountains, Rose was living a life he knew nothing about.
He settled at his small writing desk, pulling out a sheet of paper and his pen. But as the nib hovered over the blank page, doubt crept in.
How exactly did a man reach out to someone who’d been ignoring his letters for years?
The stark reality of those unanswered notes hit him like a cold mountain wind. A host of letters over the years—carefully crafted, full of memories and updates on his family and gentle inquiries about her well-being. Letters that had vanished into silence as complete as a winter snowfall.
If Rose wouldn’t respond to James Balfour writing to her directly, perhaps she’d respond to something else entirely.
A new idea began to form, one that made his chest tighten with both excitement and guilt. What if it wasn’t a letter at all?
The advertisement section of the Virginia City paper—he’d seen plenty of notices there for employment opportunities, respectable positions that drew responses from people seeking honest work.
He pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and dipped his pen in ink.
Seeking experienced woman for household management position.
He paused. Too formal. Rose would completely ignore that.
He marked through the words and started again.
