Chapter 7
Cody was not happy in the slightest accompanying Rosamund Swire on a picnic, far from it. The words of his mother still rang in his ears: “If you accompany Miss Swire on a picnic and then still do not wish to marry her, then I shall agree that you do not have to marry her.”
When Cody had told Morgan and Indiana about his mother’s words, they had thought it an excellent idea to end her interference, not that they had put it quite so bluntly. Misty, however, had seemed upset.
Cody, with Rosamund at his side, walked toward the creek, watching the sunlight reflect from the ripples in the water. People had always said he was a hopeless romantic, and he supposed that was, in fact, true. He spent much of his time daydreaming about his and Misty’s life together once they were married. “Misty would love it here,” he said absently to himself.
“Misty!” Rosamund spat the word. “Do not mention her name when you are here with me!”
Cody turned to Rosamund. “Rosamund, when you asked me to accompany you on the picnic, I explained to you very clearly that I was happy to accompany you, but that you were not to read anything into it. I shall be marrying Miss Misty.”
At that, Rosamund giggled spitefully.
Cody simply shrugged and kept on walking along the banks of the creek.
“Those cattle do no smell appealing,” Rosamund snorted in disgust.
Cody smiled to himself. Perhaps that wasn’t what she had in mind when she thought she’d get some alone time with me, he thought.
Rosamund looked as if she was about to have a temper tantrum, and as Cody had been on the receiving end of more than one of her infamous tantrums before, he thought he should change the subject. “Buffalo Bill Cody…”
“I know who he is,” Rosamund snapped. “I am well studied, if you recall.”
“Oh yes,” Cody said, speaking quickly as if that would somehow placate her. “There is talk that his show will be starting up again soon.”
“Did you make that up?” Rosamund asked accusingly.
Cody was taken aback. “No, of course not.”
“Oh,” she snapped, jutting out her chin in an aggressive manner. “Well, I’ve only heard that Annie Oakley has recovered well.”
Cody nodded. Conversation with Rosamund was always difficult, and this was the case now. “Yes,” he said.
“Hmpf!” was Rosamund’s only reply, and she walked away, in the direction of the creek. Cody watched her as she walked, wondering if she was storming off or simply walking. He hoped she was simply walking.
The lingering tension hung in the air. Cody thought of Misty.
They walked along the creek bank in silence. Rosamund nearly slipped and Cody reached out his hand to steady her. When she had regained her balance, he tried to let her hand go, but she clung to it. He gave his hand a little shake but she clung even harder and dug in her fingernails. She should be a rancher, Cody thought, with such a strong grip.
Finally, Cody managed to shake her off, but he felt quite ungentlemanly in doing so. Nevertheless, he could not in all good conscience walk around holding hands with Rosamund Swire.
They reached the top of a grassy hill and paused to catch their breath. Cody looked down and surveyed the sweeping view. Below him stretched contented cows grazing on the rich, fertile soil, and beyond, mountains on the horizon.
Cody realized that Rosamund had been speaking. “Oh sorry, what did you say?”
Rosamund glared at him. “I said, this is where we should have our picnic.” Her voice was filled with anger.
Cody shrugged. “As you wish.” Rosamund is unpleasant, he thought. Surely my mother can see this for herself.
Rosamund, at any rate, appeared to have lost interest in speaking, and simply wanted to sit in the sun and eat lunch.
Cody opened the picnic basket he had carried up, and found sandwiches wrapped in paper and tied with pretty ribbon. No doubt his mother has given strict orders to the cook for the contents of the basket.
“Isn’t this nice,” Rosamund said, wiping some chicken from her mouth in not quite a ladylike fashion. “Imagine, this is what life will be like when we’re married.”
Cody nearly choked. “Rosamund,” he said, trying to keep his tone even, “we shall not be getting married.”
Rosamund’s face turned an unpleasant shade of beet red. “What do you have against me?” Her voice rose shrilly.
Cody studiously avoided a direct answer to that question. Instead, he said quite firmly, “I am in love with Misty. Misty and I will be getting married.” He pronounced each word separately and distinctly, and with emphasis.
Cody expected outrage, but to his discomfort, Rosamund smiled and looked quite smug. “That’s what you think.”
The tone of her voice made the hairs on the back of Cody’s neck stand up. What did she know that he didn’t?