by Joyce Armor
Oh, great. You frightened her now. He grabbed her free hand between both of his. “I didn’t mean to add to your worries.”
She looked at him pleadingly, and he sighed. “You were shot.”
She looked puzzled for a moment, then looked down at her side. “Oh,” was all she said before looking back at him. He looked perplexed. “What is it?”
“I need to call you something. How about…” He looked around the room as if he would find the answer in the curtains or on the washstand. “Abby?” It was the first name he could come up with. He wouldn’t mention it was the name of a dog he had owned several years ago. He was quite fond of that dog.
“I guess it’s as good a name as any.”
“I don’t know what happened to you or why, Abby, so I honestly don’t know if you’re in any danger. The sheriff will be here, probably in the morning, and will want to ask you some questions. Perhaps your memory will have returned by then.”
“Oh, I hope so. I really do not want to inconvenience you, though, Bodie. Is there a hotel or boarding house I could move to? Uh…” Now she looked down, blushing. Breathing in, as if gathering her strength, she looked him in the eye. “Did you find a reticule with me?”
“No, and you’re in no condition to move to another location. And you’re no inconvenience. We like having you here. Mrs. Glines is a born caregiver. She’s practically jumping with glee that you’re here.”
Why did he feel almost panicky at the thought of her leaving? He was concerned for her safety and health. That was it. Yet there was that little voice in his head that said, Your name sounded really sweet on her lips.
She had finished the toast. “Why don’t you get some more rest? One of us will bring supper up to you a little later. I see Mrs. Glines has left the bell here. She did that for me when I broke my leg. Just ring it if you need anything and she’ll come running. Or walking.”
She smiled. He helped her settle back into a prone position, picked up the cup and saucer and left, no more illuminated on her story than he was when he first discovered her.
Bodie was a little suspicious later that day when Mrs. Glines insisted that it would be rude if he did not sup with their guest. He was intrigued by the injured woman, he could admit to himself, so he carried his tray of stew, apple slices and biscuits, as well as coffee, up to the guest room as the cook followed with Abby’s tray.
They chatted as they ate, and it became obvious that Abby was intelligent and well educated. She could converse on a number of topics, ranging from politics and current events to construction, of all things. Her knowledge astounded her more than it did him. If she knew all that, why didn’t she know who she was or what had befallen her? And how was it she could recall all kinds of information but no memories?
Bodie told her all about the ranch, how he had grown it over the last eight years. He had a cattle herd of nearly 800 and also raised horses, which he sold to other ranchers and to the U.S. Army. She could tell how proud he was and longed to visit the stables and to ride out and see all he had accomplished. Ride out? That must mean she was familiar and comfortable with horses. That was something to hang on to.
“Bodie, will you take me riding?” she said suddenly and then worried that she was being too forward.
That surprised him. She seemed kind of delicate and probably citified. He could not help noticing, though, how hopeful she looked. He cleared his throat. “Well, I think you have to get over your concussion and gunshot wound before we think about doing that.”
Her shoulders kind of slumped and he felt guilty.
“I just don’t want your wound to fester or you to get dizzy on a horse. Maybe next week we could go.”
She smiled and it lit up her damaged face. He was glad he had spoken. What was it about this woman that made him feel like a raw youth? And more importantly, what was he going to do about it?
Chapter 5
Sheriff Langdon did show up the next day and was quite thorough in his questioning of Abby but gleaned no more information than Bodie did. While Abby still could not tell them what happened to her or who she was, she was getting little frames of pictures, as she explained it, including a Morgan horse and a gray-haired man with an authoritative but somehow kindly face. The sheriff promised to send inquiries out regarding missing women and instructed her to send word if she remembered anything vital. Shortly after he left, Dr. Prudomme returned. She was pleased that the patient had regained consciousness and that her gunshot wound had not putrefied. Miss Abby’s healing was proceeding nicely, she announced.
“What about my memory?” Abby looked so forlorn, once again Bodie wanted to scoop her up into his arms and tell her everything would be all right.
“It could come back all at once or in little pieces, like the pictures you’re starting to see in your mind,” the doctor explained. “The fact that you are experiencing flashes of memory is a good sign, so your memory could come back totally at any time.”
“Or not at all in any meaningful way?” Abby looked like she was about to cry.
The doctor sighed. “It is a possibility, Abby, but not likely, especially since you’re starting to see things. Those pictures are actually pieces of your memory.”
Abby was stoic as the physician casted her arm. Although both women may have wondered why the rancher stayed to watch the process, and he couldn’t have told them because he didn’t know himself, neither asked or even looked particularly curious.
After the doctor departed, Bodie left to take care of ranch business, and Abby slept before and after Mrs. Glines joined her for lunch, a tasty plate of cheese, sugared peaches and cold sliced ham. The older woman talked quite a bit about Bodie, explaining he had come to Wyoming from Nebraska when he was barely 20. He had inherited some money from his father and used that to purchase his land and stock. He built Two Forks from scratch, adding on to it each year. Ranching was a challenging life, and it somehow suited Bodie. She had witnessed him growing from a determined lad to a capable, successful man. Mrs. Glines, a widow, lived in one of three cottages on the other side of the stables. The foreman and his wife occupied another, and the third was currently vacant. Several ranch hands called the bunkhouse home.
Home. Abby felt a strange connection deep in her heart to this Wyoming ranch, although she knew it wasn’t her home and never would be. It just felt inviting and safe, like a sanctuary, the way she thought a home should feel. It wasn’t just the cozy room, of course. It was the people. Mrs. Glines was the quintessential grandmother, kind and friendly and encouraging. And Bodie was simply…wonderful. He was handsome and heroic, hardworking and also kind. At times he seemed a bit put out of sorts by her, and that only made him seem more appealing. So unlike the dandies…where? She had no idea. Lying in bed gave her way too much time to think about the attractive rancher, about the muscles on his forearms and his fine backside. She blushed, even though she was alone.
Bodie had to be suspicious of her. She was suspicious of herself. Where had she come from and who had shot her? She had to consciously will herself not to despair. She could not retrieve any memories, although her head felt full of thoughts. Sometimes that head seemed like it was about to explode. Thankfully, today the wonderful Mrs. Glines had brought her two books to read, Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and Phantom Fortune by Mary Elizabeth Braddon. She also had helped Abby out of bed and supported her as she led her into the bathing room. Abby was pleased to see how modern it was, with a beautiful copper bathing tub and a flush toilet. If she knew what those were, then she must have lived in a modern home or at least visited one before. The room also included a beveled mirror and dressing table. Like her bedroom, even the bathing room was simply designed with a homey feel.
She could not have made it into the bathing room without the help of Mrs. Glines, but assured her she was fine on her own to take care of her needs. The kind woman insisted on sitting outside the room as she bathed, lest she drown, Abby supposed. By the time she finished her b
ath, including washing her hair, making sure she kept her stitched knee and the arm the doctor had casted out of the water and not wetting the stitches under her chin, or at least not much, she felt infinitely better. Carefully she stepped out of the tub and began drying herself with the towel Mrs. Glines had provided. She still felt light-headed, and when she took her first steps, she had to grab onto the dressing table until she could regain her balance. Once she was stable, she called Mrs. Glines, who then carefully replaced the wet bandaging of her gunshot wound. Her side did not hurt nearly as much as it had and she could see it was not red or puffy, indicating infection.
Bodie had sheepishly told Abby they had discarded her dress and underthings, turning almost bright red as he said the “u” word. He had explained the clothing was torn and muddy beyond repair, so she picked up his light blue shirt and donned it again. As she slowly buttoned it up, she imagined she could smell the leathery, piney odor of its owner. She shook her head, warning herself to stop thinking about her rescuer. And she had to stop thinking of this ranch as her home. Sadly, both those tasks would be easier said than done.
Maybe she never would find her original home, as disturbing as that thought was. The nearest town, Bodie had told her, was Medicine Bow. She knew that was in Wyoming Territory, but only because he had already told her. It didn’t seem familiar at all. She loved it here, but she could not rely on Bodie’s kindness forever. Perhaps someone in Medicine Bow would give her a job and advance her some money so she could rent a room. That had her thinking about what kind of work she could do. Had she ever held a job? She had no idea, and she did not know if she had any skills whatsoever. That was a depressing thought. She knew her brain worked, however, so she could probably learn to work in a retail establishment or a post office, or muck out stables for that matter. Of course, she didn’t have any clothes, which would make it hard to find a job.
She sighed. Was life always this difficult?
Bodie joined her for supper in her room, where they remarked on the sumptuous roast beef and garlic potatoes. He had invited the cook to join them, but she had demurred. Afterwards, they played checkers. He didn’t need to explain the game to her, so she obviously had played it before.
“King me,” she called out triumphantly, and he laughed.
“We’re learning more and more about you.” She looked at him and noted he had a twinkle in his eye. “We know you can play checkers, and we know you’re awfully cutthroat about it. You’re very competitive.”
“Yes, and you still haven’t kinged me.”
He chuckled and added a black checker on top of hers. She won that game, and he won the next two. He was about to ask her if she wanted to play another game when he caught her trying to stifle a yawn.
“Well, you’ve tuckered me out,” he said, standing and stretching. “I think I’ll call it a night.”
She smiled, looking at the clock on the dressing table. “It’s only 8:15.”
“Dawn comes early,” he said and she blushed. Here she was lying in bed all day while he was out working.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything…”
“Hey now, you didn’t say anything wrong,” he interrupted. “I was just making an excuse for why I was leaving.”
“I hate being stuck in this bed.”
“The doc said one more day, and then you can at least join us for meals downstairs and maybe sit on the porch.”
“I know I should be grateful, and I am, I promise, but I must be used to being more active because I feel so…so useless.”
He picked up the checkers and the board, replacing them in the box and then patted her hand. “You’ve had quite a trauma, Abby. You need to give your body and mind time to heal.”
She felt almost a charge of electricity go up her arm at his touch, especially when he said the word “body.” Their eyes locked for a moment of intensity that she couldn’t hold. She looked away, and he removed his hand as if he’d been burned.
“Well, goodnight then,” he said and practically bolted out the room.
Abby could not help but smile. And then she could not help but wonder. How could she feel such a connection to someone she barely knew?
The scene played out similarly the next morning when Bodie joined Abby for breakfast. He had gotten up at dawn and already distributed hay to the north field and brought in some strays. He should have eaten downstairs and headed up to help the boys move the herd, but he was drawn to the young woman in a way he didn’t even understand. She looked so much better than when he had brought her home, and not just because her wounds were healing. She had a sparkle, a vivacity to her that seemed to perfectly balance her humble spirit.
They had just finished their omelets and were laughing about a dribble of orange juice down her chin when the bedroom door, which was ajar, burst open and Auralee Farnham strode in.
Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. Why hadn’t he even heard the carriage? You know why, because you were so enthralled with…He cut off the thought and jumped up to greet his mother, ignoring for the moment, the young woman in the light green frilly gown, looking over her shoulder. How could she have not a speck of dust on her after traveling across several states?
Auralee looked as imperial as ever, dressed in a shiny mauve something-or-other that was perfectly tailored to fit her ample figure. Her gray hair was perfectly coiffed in a chignon, and she wore a perfectly matching hat with a perfectly matching feather. Of course her slippers perfectly matched, too.
He approached her, making an effort to look happier than he felt. “Mother, I would have met you in town if you had let me know exactly when you were coming.”
She grasped him in a hug so tight, her fleshy fingers digging into his back, he struggled to breathe. The woman was strong. He started to ease himself out of the hug when he looked over her shoulder and noted the rather smug look of the debutante standing in the doorway. Except for her expression, she really was quite pretty, with golden blonde hair cascading in curls around her face, a turned-up nose and blue eyes. Lord help him. He had to get out of this trap somehow.
“Who is this?”
Auralee had finally noticed the young woman in the bed.
Bodie looked from Abby to his mother and back to Abby, who looked both amused and maybe a bit confused. And then to the debutante and back to his mother again. “This is Abby…my fiancée,” he blurted out. He had no idea where that enormous lie had come from and would have called the words back if he could have.
His mother gasped, the debutante scowled and Abby’s eyes widened. He crossed to her and grasped her hand, squeezing, hoping it conveyed that he was begging her to go along with the ruse. She gave him a tentative smile, which somehow reassured him. Bodie turned back to Auralee.
“She’s had some serious injuries and is recuperating here. We should let her rest now. I’ll see you later, honey.” He leaned over and kissed her gently on her swollen cheek, hoping his mother didn’t see the dumbfounded look on her face. He picked up the breakfast trays and walked out of the room, saying “Hello” to the debutante as he passed her. Her scowl turned into a flirty little smile as she brushed the curls from her cheek, making her green ruffles bounce. She was carrying a parasol, for God sakes. Just what she needed on a ranch.
Auralee, of course, followed him out of the bedroom and down the stairs, with the debutante close behind. “Who is this woman? Why didn’t you tell me? How could you embarrass me like this?”
Of course it was all about her. He stopped on the landing at the bottom of the stairs. “Mother,” he said quietly, still holding the trays. “Perhaps we should discuss this privately, later.”
“We certainly will, young man,” she huffed.
It was all he could do to keep from rolling his eyes. He turned and headed toward the kitchen. Still, she followed him. Uh-oh, Mrs. Glines. He thought about heading out to the stables instead of the kitchen, but he couldn’t very well take the breakfast trays out there. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound.
He entered the kitchen with his mother and the green ruffled woman close behind. Mrs. Glines, wearing a red, white and blue apron that made him want to salute, was kneading dough.
“My fiancée said to thank you for the breakfast tray, Mrs. Glines.”
He saw the tiniest flash in her eyes and then the moment she understood. “Of course, Bodie. You know I love Abby. She has been no trouble at all.” She looked past him at Auralee. “Can I fix you and your…little friend something to eat, Mrs. Farnham?”
“That won’t be necessary,” came the response, and Bodie’s mother managed to make it sound haughty.
Mrs. Glines kneaded the bread a little more vigorously than necessary, and Bodie bit his lip to keep from laughing. He turned to his mother. “Dinner is usually served around noon, and supper at 6, as you may remember.” He set the trays on the counter. “Thank you, Mrs. Glines. Breakfast was delicious, as usual.” He turned to his mother, smiling. “I have work to do. I’ll talk to you later.”
He started to walk out of the kitchen, but stopped and turned back to his cook. “Oh, and Mrs. Glines? Abby needs her rest. Please make sure she’s not disturbed while I’m gone.” She nodded, smiling, and he headed through the mudroom and out the door before his mother could say anything. He knew he was being rude not even waiting for an introduction to the debutante, but he didn’t invite her. As far as he was concerned, she was his mother’s problem. He did feel uncomfortable leaving Abby with the barracuda, however, but he trusted Mrs. Glines to watch over her. The ranch didn’t run itself.
As Bodie was saddling Laredo, the day’s tasks running through his head, Auralee and Miss Caroline sat sipping tea with Mrs. Glines. Although Auralee shamelessly pumped the cook for information about Bodie’s fiancée, Mrs. Glines was not new to the rodeo. She weaved and dodged, saying more than once, “You should ask the young woman yourself when she’s feeling better” and “Bodie would be better to answer that.” She had no intention of painting Bodie into a corner by providing any information he would have to corroborate, such as how they met. She truly could not remember when she enjoyed herself more. This was going to be an interesting week or however ever long the intrusion lasted.