Coming Up Roses Read Free Page A

claimed. Well-meaning folks had a way of exaggerating a widow woman's attributes when an available bachelor was within earshot. Times were just that hard. But Zach didn't value a woman's looks overmuch, anyway. Being a widower and lonely, not to mention none too pretty himself, he considered anything on the uphill side of ugly a good prospect. He had hoped to scrub up and put on his Sunday best before moseying over to meet her, though. Nosy's escape from his pen had scotched that.
    Using his fingers as a comb, Zach tried to smooth the front of his hair, not bothering with the back since that would be covered by his hat. Then he did a half-assed job of wiping his face with his sleeve. God only knew what he must look like after working behind the plow all day. Damned no-account dog, anyway.
    As he drew near the Blakely farm, the sound of a dog's excited barking, interspersed by high-pitched shrieks, told Zach he had found Nosy long before he could actually see him. Judging by the noise, he also guessed that the mutt's nose had once again led him straight into trouble.
    As Zach rode up the rutted drive to the weathered, two-story white house, he could finally see what all the commotion was about. Nosy had discovered a new pastime, digging holes. From the looks of things, the dog found it far more entertaining than chicken chasing, and Zach could see why. Nosy had a found a woman instead of a chicken to play with him.
    Adding to the overall ruckus was a little girl, no bigger than a mite, who was dancing about, waving her spindly arms and screaming. It didn't appear to Zach that the child's shrieks were likely to make the dog leave off anytime soon. And Kathryn Blakely's swings with her broom weren't exactly what could be termed powerful dissuaders.
    Instead of clobbering the mutt, as he so richly deserved, she drew the broom up short every time she swung. A stranger to blows of any kind, Nosy seemed to think this new game of swing and duck was all for fun.
    With all the noise and confusion, Zach's slow approach went unnoticed. He drew his horse to a stop several yards shy of the flower bed, which cut about a ten-foot swath along the fence, extending out into the yard some six feet.
    Just having come from his own place, where the work was piled knee high to a tall Indian, he couldn't help but notice that the Blakely farm was in equally sad shape. It wasn't just that the house needed painting. The front porch was buckled and sinking at one end, the fence that bordered the rose garden leaned and swayed in the brisk breeze, and the barn looked as though a sneeze would blow it over.
    Zach returned his attention to the well-tended rose garden, which struck a strange contrast to the ramshackle condition of everything surrounding it. It was none of his concern, but to his way of thinking, a widow's time might be better spent on something other than flowers. Trying to survive out here without a man, she'd find herself rose rich and food poor come winter if she didn't get her priorities straight.
    As he refocused on Kathryn Blakely, Zach's serious thoughts gave way to amazement. While he had been looking elsewhere, she had somehow managed to get her coronet of braid tangled in the thorns of a rosebush that climbed the trellis behind her.
    Zach took in the damage and wondered why she persisted in darting after Nosy. True, the dog had dug some considerable holes, but none had unearthed the rosebushes or were so close they were likely to harm the roots.
    The dog probably wouldn't do any irreparable damage in the time it might take for her to untangle herself.
    There was just no figuring women. At least Zach had never had a knack for it. She obviously held the dirt around her roses in mighty high regard, and whether or not that made sense to him was beside the point. Damned dog. So much for his chances of getting off on the right foot with Kathryn Blakely.
    And wasn't that a shame? Rumor hadn't lied. Even in a threadbare, somber black dress