7 ROSE

ROSE WATCHED Andrew leave the room and thought about faking a killer headache that would keep her in bed until morning. She would even be glad to have an 'authentic' killer headache, since anything would be better than having another conversation with Andrew Johnson, especially one that ended with "I'm yours."

She blamed her wobbly legs on jet lag, her racing heart on drinking strongly brewed coffee on the flight and refused to believe that one man could turn her into a shaky-kneed coward with just one look.

Rose went into the bathroom and washed her hands of Texas dust and Pookie hair before squaring her shoulders and leaving the cozy bedroom.

She knew she certainly couldn't leave Francisca alone with her boyfriend. He'd have her niece out of her clothes and flat on her back within fifteen minutes of the first kiss. Rose blushed to think she knew about that from experience.

She peeked into the room across the hall before descending the narrow staircase. The house was nice enough, and it seemed that Bobby had been telling the truth about owning a cattle ranch, but ranching didn't seem like the most secure way to make a living. Then again, better than Hollywood directors of Paris artists. Francisca had a knack of attracting unusual people.

The latest candidate met Rose at the bottom of the stairs, his Buffalo-size dog at his heels.

"Is your room all right?" Bobby looked frightened of her, which made Rose almost feel sorry for him.

"it's lovely," she said, eyeing Gus. "Please move," she ordered, and the animal hid behind Bobby and allowed Rose to step into the hall.

"Where's Francisca?"

The young man shot a worried glance at his dog, whose tail was between his legs. "She's outside with, uh, the Pookie dog, and Gus was making the little guy kinda nervous so I thought I'd bring the rest of her stuff upstairs. How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Get Gus to mind. He's never been much for dog obedience, if you know what I mean. As a matter of fact, old Gus sort of does whatever he wants around....."

"Bobby! Hey, Bobby!" High-pitched voices called.

"Oh, Lord," the cowboy muttered, looking like he'd been caught stealing candy from babies. He dropped Francisca's bags and turned reluctantly back to the kitchen.

"I think you have company," Rose said, following him. And the company was female, which was interesting.

"The twins," he grumbled. "They won't leave me alone."

"Hey, Bobby." two identical blondes cooed.

They stood side by side in front of the kitchen door and looked like a cowgirl beauty queens. "Have you seen Marty anywhere around?"

"Uh, Last time I saw him I think he was working on one of the bikes."

The twin teenagers---and Rose didn't think they could be much older than eighteen----stared past Bobby to his guest. "Your company's here? Is this your girlfriend?"

"This is Francisca Handel's auntie," Bobby said, giving Rose a little push forward as if he thought he needed protection.

"Rose Marti," she said, filling in the introductions. "And you are obviously sisters."

"We are the Lynette twins," the one on the left said. "I'm Mandy."

"I'm Sandy," the other one added. "We are real sorry Bobby stopped running around with us, but we got new outfits for the wedding."

"When is it gonna be, Bobby?"

"You will be first to know," he promised. "Me and Francisca are still trying to figure that part out. So what are you two up to tonight?"

"Marty said he'd take us to the movies."

"if he's not too late."

Bobby hurried forward to usher them out the door. "Check In the shop," he said. "If he's not there holler at the bunkhouse and someone will tell you where he's at."

"Thanks, hon," one of them said, while the other girl waved to Rose.

"See you later."

"Goodbye," Rose called. "It was nice meeting you."

"Maybe I'd better go help them find Marty," Bobby said, hurrying out the door with Gus trotting at his heels. Rose went to the window and watched them stroll toward a distant at of buildings. Boots, jeans, hats and checkered shirts worn by all three Texans made them look as if they belonged together. Why would her niece think she could become a rancher's wife and fit into this brown, dust-covered world?

"I LOVE IT HERE," Francisca declared, rounding the corner of the house. The dog had done his business eventually, though the flat-faced animal had seemed perplexed by all the new smells. "It's just as I pictured a Texas ranch would be. Everything's so open and just like the movies."

"I'm real glad to hear it," Andrew replied, holding Pookie under his arm like a football. Sure that Gus was waiting nearby to pounce on the canine intruder, Andrew had Decided to protect the Shih Tzu instead of carrying suitcases. He wasn't taking any chances. There was nothing surer to kill romance than the murder of a pet, especially if the killer was the guy's own dog. "I hope you will be real happy here."

"Thanks." she shot him a grateful smile. "I hope everyone around here is as nice as you."

"We try."

"Bobby said you practically raised him."

"Well, I guess so, but...."

"And that you are like an uncle to him the way Rose is an aunt to me."