The Rancher Takes A Bride (The Burnett Brides Book 1)

coming out of her daydream. "Yes, sir."
    "Then please read your lines."
    Rose took a deep breath. " Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself, To make a bondmaid and a slave of me; That I disdain: but for these other gawds, Unbind my hands, I'll pull them off myself, Yea all my raiment, to my petticoat, Or what you will command me will I do. So well I know my duty to my elders. "
    The actress who was playing Katharina said her lines, and then once again it was Rose's turn. She repeated her lines, and then Katharina was to pretend to slap her. But the actress's hand connected with Rose's cheek, leaving her stunned.
    "Sorry, guess I missed my mark," the woman replied.
    A few snickers could be heard around the stage. At first Rose was shocked the woman had actually hit her. Then the director started yelling at her, waving his arms. "You're supposed to run off the stage."
    Still holding her bruised cheek, she ran across the stage and behind the curtains. For a moment the urge to continue running was strong, but she shook her head in denial. It would take more than the leading lady's jealous behavior to run Rose off.
    Several hours later, Rose felt as if her cheek was bruised from being slapped, her voice was scratchy, and her legs were aching. But her first rehearsal had gone relatively well, with the director only yelling at her twice.
    Isaiah brought the wagon around to the front of the makeshift theater, and she crawled in, her feet aching and her body tired. Bart, the man Travis had insisted ride along with her, climbed in the back of the wagon.
    Rose ignored the man, just as she'd pretended all day he wasn't there.
    "Good even', Miss Rose," Isaiah said, looking her over. "How did your first rehearsal go?"
    Rose sat down wearily in the wagon and glanced over at the older man. "All right, I guess. But I am tired."
    Isaiah smiled and clicked to the horses, putting the wagon in motion. "I remember your mama saying those same words. Rehearsing ain't easy. She used to come out of the theater and want to go straight home and to bed. She would be plumb tuckered out at the end of a play."
    Rose glanced at Isaiah as she hung on to the side of the rocking wagon. She sighed. "I wish she were here now to help me. I feel like there is so much to learn."
    "You'll get it, Miss Rose. Don't you worry."
    "Either I'll start to understand what the director wants, or he'll be looking for a new Bianca." She gave a little laugh. "I'm certain that would please Mr. Burnett."
    Isaiah reached up and scratched his head. "I was surprised he let you act in this play."
    "He didn't have any choice. I was not going to miss this opportunity."
    Isaiah gazed at Rose, his black face wrinkled in a frown. He turned and glanced at the man sitting in the back of the wagon. His hat was pulled down low, and a soft snore occasionally drifted out from under it.
    "Why is acting so important to you, Miss Rose? Is it because of your mother or do you have a real love for it?" Isaiah asked, slapping the reins of the horses, to pick up a little speed as they left the city of Fort Worth behind.
    Rose turned and glanced at the older man. "It's all I've dreamed of since I was a little girl. I can't remember anything else I've ever wanted as much."
    Isaiah glanced at her, his dark eyes full of understanding. "But why have you wanted to be an actress? Because of your mother?"
    Rose grabbed the edge of the wagon to keep from bouncing off the seat as they hit a rut in the road.
    "You know I can't remember very much about my mother. Only hazy images of her all dressed up on her way to the theater."
    "Do you remember your father with her?" Isaiah asked.
    She looked at him oddly and searched her memory. Strangely enough, the few memories she had were not of her parents together. She had images of them, but they were always apart.
    "No, Isaiah, it seemed that there were men with her, but I don't remember who they were, only that they weren't my father."
    "Miss Rose, your mother was a good woman, but she made a lot of mistakes in her life. You were probably the best thing that ever happened to her."
    "What are you saying, Isaiah?" Rose asked. She gazed quizzically at the Negro man as he controlled the horse, his strong hands managing the reins.
    "After you were conceived, your mother didn't see your father until right before she took ill and died. He'd already moved on down the road, looking for a new game and a new woman."
    A breeze blew across the prairie, swirling the