𝘍𝘖𝘙𝘎𝘐𝘝𝘌𝘕𝘌𝘚𝘚 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘙𝘌𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘉𝘜𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕 | ʀᴅʀ

Chapter Twenty-One

1893: New Hanover

Rosalie and Hosea rolled over the hills and down the dirt path in their wagon, deer, rabbits, and other wildlife scamping past. It was quiet, the sun high in the sky, but chilly as she huddled into her jacket, the poncho thrown over her shoulders providing some semblance of warmth. Thankfully she wasn't the type to get cold, but her nose and cheeks were still red despite her lack of discomfort.

She had been quiet for most of their trip. Her thoughts were occupied with Mac and their conversation before she left. Hosea hadn't pried about her solemn demeanor, but she could tell from his suspicious glance and furrowed brows that he knew something was wrong, even if he didn't know with who or what. She had spent the first half of her trip just trying to make sense of the head-spinning conversation.

As soon as Rosalie apologized for how she had been treating Mac, when she had expressed how truly sorry she was, and that she cared about their friendship more than anything, something had been decided in his mind. He had made a decision about something. She didn't know what, but she could see it in his eyes, and in the pinched expression he wore as her words settled between them. Mentally, a switch had been flipped—but she wasn't certain it was a good thing.

Rosalie wished he would talk to her instead of making some decision on his own. She knew he had the right to decide to do whatever he wanted to do, and she was lucky that Mac didn't get angrier with her, knowing how he was with his horrible temper, but it still hurt a bit that he seemed to make some kind of decision without her. His reassurance that things would return to normal between them, and that she didn't have to 'worry' anymore felt more like him dismissing her than a comfort.

She had the sinking feeling that things were better left unsaid, and that if Mac wanted things to return to the way they were, without those long glances shared between them, or the way they would sometimes sit too close to one another by the fire, then... then she could do that if that was what he wanted.

Rosalie had tried to make a move on him and he rejected her. Even if she had tried to kiss him when she wasn't certain about her feelings, Mac still rejected her. Maybe she needed to take that as a lesson, and realize all those silly little things Karen said to her were just silly little things. She needed to let it go and focus forward on who really mattered now.

Arthur.

Even if it broke her heart, and Arthur still didn't see her in that way, the only thing she was certain about was how much she cared for him. Caring for others was all she knew, truly, but caring for Arthur... that was different. She knew it. Forcing something to work with Mac when Arthur didn't look at her in a certain light was wrong. She knew better, and she made a mistake.

Rosalie just wanted to be loved. Enthralled by the idea of Mac loving her, and her potentially loving Mac... all she wanted was to be loved by someone in that way. That's all it was, really. She just felt like a fool.

"You going to stop brooding at any time, or you gonna enrich me with the thoughts buzzin' around up there?" Hosea asked, looking forward as he drove the wagon.

Rosalie looked over at him with a grimace. "I'm not brooding."

"Sure," He replied dryly. "And the sky isn't blue."

Rosalie looked up with a feigned look of thought. "Well, actually, it looks a bit gray, or like a... murky cream, don't you think?"

Hosea snorted and flicked the reins, the wooden wheels of the wagon thumping over the wet dirt and knots in the road. "I didn't take you for an artist."

She rolled her eyes and leaned over with her arms crossed, huddling into herself as she looked out over the hills. It was quiet again between them. Birds chirped as someone shot a rifle in the distance, probably hunting.