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house for the Randolph men. She will be expected to cook, clean, wash, and generally see that the house runs smoothly.” George paused, but Rose had no changes to make. “In exchange she will have a room of her own, be paid each month in gold, be taken to Austin once a quarter, and returned to town if the contract is broken.” George turned the paper around so Rose could read what he had written.
    “Now you need to put down my part,” she said.
    “Why?”
    “I can’t expect you to make a promise if I’m not prepared to do the same.”
    “You’d better write it,” George said, pushing the paper toward Rose.
    “I, Rose Elizabeth Thornton, agree to cook, clean, wash, and generally provide for the needs of George Washington Randolph, and his six brothers.” Rose signed her name and date. “There,” she said, showing the paper to George.
    “I think that covers everything.”
    “There’s something else,” Rose said.
    “What now?” Impatience and annoyance scraped in his voice. Only the look in her eyes kept him from tearing the paper into tiny pieces.
    Rose felt humiliated, but she also felt desperate.
    “I owe some money.”
    “To whom?”
    “The undertaker.”
    There seemed no end to this woman’s requests.
    “How much?”
    “Fifty dollars?”
    “How could you run up such a sum?”
    “I wanted Daddy buried next to Mother. The army wouldn’t pay for it.”
    Damn those big eyes! Why did every explanation make him feel like a bigger heel than before?
    “If I hire you, I’ll settle your debts,” he said, getting to his feet and handing her the written agreement, this time being careful not to look into her eyes.
    He had dismissed her. Rose could feel it. He waited for her to leave the restaurant ahead of him, but she might as well not have been there at all. She wanted to run away, to do anything rather than go back and suffer the humiliation of seeing him choose Berthilde or Peaches over her.
    But pride made her walk at his side. Pride enabled her to hold up her head. Pride put steel in her nerves for the announcement she knew would destroy her last hope.
    “You sure took a long time,” Peaches said when they reached the sheriff’s office.
    “She didn’t tell you any lies about us, did she?” inquired the Widow Hanks.
    “Ya,” agreed Berthilde Huber.
    “Miss Thornton merely had some questions she wished to ask without the whole town as an audience. And I had a few questions to ask her.”
    “I bet we got a few boys in town who could give you the answers,” Sulphur Tom quipped.
    George couldn’t say what made him react so sharply to the old man’s ribbing. But whatever part of his mind Sulphur Tom prodded into action, he got more of a response than either of them anticipated.
    “I have a natural respect for anyone who’s reached your advanced age,” George said, directing a chilling stare at the irreverent Tom, “despite the obvious ill-treatment you’ve given your body”—howls of appreciative laughter came from the bystanders, including Sulphur Tom himself—“but your longevity will be severely jeopardized if you insult Miss Thornton again. Now if you will hand me your agreement,” he said turning to Rose, “I’ll sign it before all these witnesses.”
    Rose handed him the agreement, her surprise lost in the furious response of the people gathered around, most especially Miss Peaches McCloud.
    But no one was more shocked than George himself.
    Rose couldn’t remember when she had been more miserable. Every part of her body ached. After staying overnight in Austin, George had insisted upon leaving at dawn in order to make the return trip in one day. He had given her the choice of traveling on horseback with him or following in a wagon.Her response had been automatic. She would ride with him. Now she wondered if she hadn’t made the wrong decision, on more than one count.
    In addition to being certain that she wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week, she hadn’t been able