Chapter 212: Morning Dew Still Clung to the Grass Blades

Morning dew still clung to the grass blades as Rose Jackson finished tidying the chicken coop. She carefully arranged seventy eggs in a bamboo basket, each separated by dry straw. The eggs would fetch ten dollars and fifty cents—enough to buy fabric for new clothes for the children.

"Rose, let's go!" called Aunt Laura from next door.

Rose responded, tucking the fabric coupons and spare change into her inner pocket. Her younger brother had left them for her during his last visit, insisting she buy herself something new.

At the village entrance, Walter Brooks's oxcart was already surrounded by people. As Rose approached, she spotted Nolan Brooks's tall figure standing by the cart shaft. Her face burned—last night's absurd dream still vivid in her mind.

"Rose, daydreaming again?" Aunt Elizabeth pulled her forward. "Hurry up, or there won't be any seats left."

Rose kept her head low as she squeezed onto the cart, only to feel the weight shift beside her. Turning, she found Nolan sitting right next to her. The scent of soap and morning dew clung to him, making her breath hitch.

"Hold tight!" Walter Brooks shouted as the cart lurched. Rose tumbled straight into Nolan's arms, her nose bumping against his firm back.

"You okay?" He turned to steady her.

She shook her head hastily but caught a glimpse of his collarbone beneath his collar. The memory from the riverbank flashed before her—his sun-kissed skin glistening with sweat, muscles flexing as he swung the hoe...

"Fresh eggs for sale!"

At the market, Rose's clear voice drew customers. She had taken extra care with her hair today, and her faded blue blouse made her fair skin glow. Half a year of eating eggs regularly had even softened the fine lines at the corners of her eyes.

"Little lady, how much for the eggs?"

Three rough-looking men crowded around her. The leader, Zachary Dawson, had a face full of scars and beady eyes that kept darting toward her collar.

"Fifteen cents each," Rose said, pulling the basket closer.

"I'll take them all!" Zachary pulled out a handful of coins. "But you'll have to deliver them." He reached for her wrist.

Rose jerked back. "Take them yourself!"

"Playing hard to get?" A yellow-toothed man spat. "A divorced woman like you—"

Before he could finish, Rose smashed an egg straight into his face. Yolk dripped down his ugly features, drawing laughter from onlookers.

"You asked for this!" Zachary roared. All three lunged at her. Rose stumbled, the basket overturning, eggs shattering across the ground.

"Help!" She clung to a hitching post. Vendors nearby looked away—not one dared to speak up.

Then came a dull thud. The hand gripping her released. Rose looked up to see Zachary flying backward like a ragdoll. Nolan stood with a whip in hand, his expression terrifying.

"Scram." One word. The thugs fled.

Rose's legs gave way, nearly sending her kneeling into the broken eggs. Nolan caught her, his warm palm pressing against her icy hand.

"I'll take you to the clinic."

"No need—" She tried to pull away, but he held firm. Something in his deep eyes made her heart tremble.

Just then, a scream pierced the air: "Look out! Zachary's back with more men!"

Rose turned. A dozen thugs with clubs charged toward them. Nolan yanked her behind him, his whip cracking through the air like a gunshot.

"Stay behind me." His voice was low, his back taut as a drawn bow.