Mountain Rose by Norah Hess Page A

structures, however, including the cabin. It was the weedy growth, the dead flower beds, the negligence of the entire area that made one think at first glance that it was an abandoned homestead. She imagined that such things were of small importance to a man. After all, Grandmother Molly had been dead for many years.
    "Well, what do you think?" Chase probbed after Raegan's long, silent scrunity.
    "It's much like Mama described it," Raegan answered after a hesitant moment. "She talked about her home a lot. Especially the last months, when she was bed-ridden." She paused, then added, "I was wondering, though, what happened to the flower beds she spoke of, and the big rose bush that covered the chimney in red blossoms in the spring?"
    A small frown etched Chase's forehead, as though he had noticed for the first time the absence of the things she mentioned.
    "Pa tended the yard after Molly passed away, but I'm afraid I didn't do the same after his passin'. Actually, I guess I didn't even notice how the weeds were takin' over. I'll get the sickle after them tomorrow."
    He lifted the reins and they moved out, arriving at the cabin in a short time. When the mounts were tethered to a hitching post, the mare a safe distance from the stallion, Raegan followed Chase along a beaten path bordered with waist-high weeds. Here and there she saw a flower struggling for its share of sun and air.
    I'll help you tomorrow, she thought, then stepped through the door Chase held open for her.
    She stood just inside a large room for a moment, peering into the gloom of drawn drapes. Stale air greeted her, as of a room long shut up. When Chase tramped across the floor and pulled aside the covering on the two windows, her sweeping glance took in the accummulated dust and grime. Her eyes lingered a moment on the dead flies caught in cobwebs formed in the corners of the glass panes, then dropped to the floor where sand and grit had somehow blown into the room and now lay in small drifts.
    To complete the dismal look of what she knew was the parlor, although she had never been in one, the furniture was shrouded with sheets and blankets. The one piece of beauty she could see was the fieldstone fireplace built into an outside wall.
    Raegan started when Chase spoke close behind her. "This room has been shut up the past couple years. In fact, all the rooms except for the kitchen and one bedroom have been closed off."
    When Raegan only stared at him, wondering how anyone could willingly live in just two rooms, he added defensively, "It didn't seem reasonable to keep the whole place open."
    "Well," Raegan said sharply, "I've lived in two rooms all my life and I hated it. I hope you won't mind if I open up all the rooms."
    "Of course not," Chase assured her hastily. "This is your home, Raegan. You do whatever you want to with it." He surveyed the room slowly, a look of long-ago memories coming into his eyes. "I'd like it fine to see the place lookin' like it used to again. Pa tried, but somehow the warmth that Mother Molly always brought to it was missin'. I'm thinkin' that you'll have her same knack for makin' this place a home again."
    Raegan heard the sadness in his voice and remembered her mother saying how fond the little boy Chase had been of his new mama. "I shall do my best, Chase," she said softly. "And now," she said briskly, "Shall we go to the kitchen?"
    Almost with reluctance, Chase walked to a door in the center of an inside wall and, opening it, said, "Right this way, madam."
    Raegan giggled at his teasing tone and words and followed him down a hall where two doors on either side stood closed. Bedrooms, she imagined, then walked through one at the end of the passageway when Chase held it open for her.
    She barely suppressed a cry of dismay. Never had she seen anything like this kitchen. The sun shining through the uncurtained kitchen windows threw into relief the dirt and disorder, missing not one piece of debris scattered about. It shone on rusty,