by Joyce Armor
* * *
Bodie, out driving 150 head of cattle to a new range with three of his cowhands, was battling guilt with an edge of something bordering on fear. How had he gotten himself into this fix? Obviously, he had panicked. He was usually so methodical; he was a planner. He never panicked. But he did. He had to tell her the truth. “Her” meaning Abby. Of course, then his mother would find out. And then the debutante would try to sink her fangs into him. A normal person with a normal mother would be able to sit down and explain the situation. And what exactly was the situation? He did not want a perfectly dressed, ruffly wife who knew which fork to use, could name eight varieties of tea and looked down at everyone she deemed beneath her. If he ever married, and it was a big “if” in his mind, it would be to an intelligent, courageous, honest, kind and loyal woman. Someone who would be just as comfortable moving cattle as hosting a dinner party. A woman who did not mind getting dirty. A down-to-earth, fun-loving lady with a sense of humor. Not snooty.
He knew he should tell Abby the truth, face the music as it were. Absolutely he should; that was a given. It was only a matter of time until she regained her memory, and then he would be caught in his lie. For some reason, he couldn’t stand the thought of her thinking ill of him. Logic told him she would think worse of him if she learned the truth before he told her. Yes, he had to tell her. He knew this with a certainty, and yet he could not make himself do it. She actually seemed happy to be engaged to him and even accepted his excuse that he could not fill her in on their relationship per the doctor’s orders. Thank goodness the doctor hadn’t returned since Bodie had placed the ring on her finger. He felt as if he was juggling several balls in the air and they all about to come crashing down.
Bodie had looked in on her before he started his day on the range. She looked so peaceful lying there on her side, one arm under her head and the one with the cast lying across the pillow. He marveled at her slender fingers, slightly battered as they were. They looked like they could caress a man…no, he wasn’t going there. A strand of hair lay across her face, and he gently brushed it back. She sighed a happy little sigh and he jumped back, afraid she would catch him ogling her. What if she actually were your wife? You could ogle her every day. He pushed the thought from his head. What did he really know about her? Abby could be a criminal. She could be married or betrothed to someone else. Just because she came in a pretty package did not make her pretty inside. Oh, she was nice, he knew. Could amnesia alter someone’s personality? Could she be nice because she didn’t remember she wasn’t? It was all so mind-numbing. He was better off communing with cattle. Sure, cowboy. Keep telling yourself that.
As he joined several of the boys at the chuck wagon to grab a dish of mulligan stew, Lou asked how Abby was doing. Bodie looked at the four dusty men sitting in various positions, eating their midday meal and sighed.
“She’s doing fine but has not regained her memory yet.” He shifted uncomfortably, took a drink of coffee from his tin cup, set it down and sighed. “If anyone asks, we’re engaged.”
Dead silence. Gaping mouths. Bulging eyes.
“It’s a long story and I don’t want to talk about it.” Bodie got up, took a couple of bites of stew while he was standing, tossed the bowl and spoon into the chuck wagon and then stalked off.
“Don’t that beat all?” one of men said, shaking his head.
* * *
Breakfast was still uncomfortable for Abby, but at least Caroline wasn’t there. Any hope of a serene meal disappeared, however, when Bodie’s mother began extolling the virtues of the missing woman. She was refined. She was educated. She sang like an angel. She came from a wealthy, prominent family. She could help advance Bodie’s career.
That one gave Abby pause. She had just stabbed a slice of melon but hesitated with the fork in her hand. “Is she going to expand his acreage?” She chewed the fruit thoughtfully, then shoveled a bite of omelet into her mouth, looking at Mrs. Farnham innocently.
The lady looked like she was about to explode. “Bodie was going to be an attorney-at-law,” she huffed. “With Carolina at his side, he could pursue that goal.”
Abby set her fork down. She felt mischievous today. “Was that his goal or yours? He seems very happy as a rancher, and he’s quite good at it. Masterful, in fact.”
Mrs. Farnham glared at her. “It’s beneath him. He comes from better stock.”
“Again,” Abby smiled, “is it beneath him or beneath you?”
“You’re impertinent,” Mrs. Farnham spat out.
“Forgive me. I only have my fiancé’s best interest and happiness at heart. Do you? He’s a grown man. I think he should do what makes him happy. It’s his life, after all.”
She jumped up as she spoke, grabbed her plate and coffee cup and headed for the kitchen before the future mother-in-law from hell could reply. She supposed she should try a little harder to get along with the woman, but it frosted her innards how that steamroller of a mother tried to manipulate her son, not to mention how she disrespected his fiancée.
Abby set her plate and cup in the tub where Mrs. Glines was washing dishes. “That woman,” she said, snatching up a dish towel. “She needs a big helping of humble pie. Or a swift kick in the…” She stopped, shaking her head.
Mrs. Glines grinned. “Thankfully she usually visits only once a year.”
Abby took a serving plate from the older woman. “For how long? It already seems like months.”
“It’s usually for a week or two. A very long week or two. It is so hard on Bodie, as he tries not to let her roll over him yet also tries not to offend her. That is really an impossible task.”
“What do you think of Caroline?”
“Oh, she seems nice enough. Too prissy for Bodie, though.”
“She hasn’t been nice to me. That one has claws.”
Mrs. Glines handed her another dish. “Well, watch your back. I don’t think they’ll try to poison you. They will, no doubt, try to undermine your relationship with Bodie. He cares for you, you know.”
“Of course he does. He is my fiancé.”
Mrs. Glines just smiled. Abby studied her for a moment. Why did she look so self-satisfied? Maybe she was the one who introduced her to Bodie. She definitely seemed invested in their happily-ever-after. What was Bodie doing now, she wondered. Herding or branding cattle? Roping mustangs? Baling hay? Digging ditches? Making repairs? She hoped he was warm, safe and happy.
* * *
At that moment the Dunne Pullman car was in Nevada, heading toward Medicine Bow, Wyoming Territory. The railroad detective would arrive in Medicine Bow before the Dunnes and consult with the sheriff about the young woman who was found there. They would meet in Medicine Bow and find the woman if she fit the description or claimed to be Jenna. Carter Dunne agonized over whether or not it could be his sister, although how she could have survived he could not imagine. He cursed. He had the worse luck.
As the train headed east, the siblings’ ailing father seemed to gain strength. His coloring went from gray to pinkish, and his son wondered if he was going to have to throw his father off the train, too. He realized, of course, that would be too suspicious. He had to do something, though, to keep the old man away from Jenna before he could get rid of her for good if she was, in fact, still alive. He could not imagine how that could be, however. He had to be certain, though. He could not get on a faster train; this was the only option. So he would have to somehow make his move in Medicine Bow. As the train came ever closer to the Wyoming destination, he stewed and plotted.
His father might be looking and feeling better, but he was still unsteady and still dying of a weak heart. If the rescued woman wasn’t in the downtown area of Medicine Bow, if the town even had a downtown, perhaps he could talk his father into resting before seeking her out. If he had to, maybe he would drug his food. Or trip him and cause him to fall and injure himself. The fall might even kill him. Either that or he would have to drug him on the train. But where would he get laudan
um or chloroform or some other drug? There was that slimy character he had met in the dining car. He would probably have it on him or know where to get it. Money could buy just about anything, couldn’t it? But then he would have to kill that fellow. He could not afford to leave any witnesses. He was so close to having all the money he would ever need for the rest of his life. Nothing would stand in his way. It wasn’t so hard to kill, was it? They couldn’t hang him more than once, could they, so it didn’t really matter how many people he killed after the one. That made him smile until he remembered he was supposed to be looking sad and confused at his sister’s disappearance.
Rexwell Dunne loved his son, at least he thought he did, but he was no fool. He knew Carter lacked character. He drank too much and had a gambling problem. He lied without batting an eye. Rex did not want to think he would harm his sister, yet the thought had occurred to him. He was awfully nonchalant about her absence, although he tried to cover. He had even suggested she had run off with a whiskey drummer. The thought that his son would harm or do something even worse to his sister was so horrifying that the dying man had shoved it to the back of his mind.
Carter would be stunned and furious, and perhaps even hurt, to know that his father had virtually cut him out of his will; the vast majority of his holdings would go to Jenna. If Jenna predeceased him, her share would go to Columbia University. He also was bequeathing a small settlement to his prickly sister and letting her decide whether or not to pass anything on to her equally straitlaced daughter. As for Carter, Rexwell Dunne had funded his son’s debauchery while he was living. He was not about to do so after his death.
* * *
Bodie had unsaddled his stallion and was rubbing him down when he heard rustling behind him. Before he turned around, he knew it would be Caroline. All his senses went on alert.
“There you are. I’ve missed you,” she purred, walking up way too close to him. Whereas Abby smelled fruity and fresh, Caroline’s odor was more jarring, too cloying for his taste. She wore a light pink, frilly dress that fit her perfectly, if it was meant to display a good portion of her breasts. He had to admit she had a pleasing form and was an attractive woman, but he felt absolutely nothing for her, except perhaps a bit of revulsion. She represented everything he disliked in society women, most of all the dishonesty.
He continued brushing Laredo. “You don’t even know me. Step back so you don’t get kicked. And you’re bound to get that frilly dress dirty if you stay here.”
She reluctantly took half a step back. “We could get to know each other,” she said in what she must have thought was a sexy voice. “Your mother thinks we’re an ideal match.”
His stomach churned.
“Your mother loves me, and I think you could, too.”
Still he kept brushing the stupid horse, frustrating Caroline.
“Can’t you turn around and talk to me?”
He stopped brushing and turned to her. “This is a working ranch. We depend on our horses, and we take care of them. And I’m engaged. Go back to the ranch house.”
“But you’re not married,” the annoying young woman said. “All’s fair, as they say, you know.”
And then she took a step, grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him right on the mouth. He heard a gasp and looked over the blond curls to see Abby standing at the barn door, her beautiful eyes filled with tears. She stumbled backwards, turned and limped toward the house. Bodie shoved Caroline away from him, probably harder than necessary, and didn’t miss her smug look as he bolted after his fake fiancée.
“Abby, wait!”
She had already reached the house and no doubt was hurrying toward her bedroom and barricading the door. Mrs. Glines came out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish towel.
“What happened?”
Bodie sighed as he ran his hands through his hair. “Caroline kissed me in the stables. Abby saw.”
The cook shook her head. “If you need a cattle prod to keep that woman away from you, use it. She’s a wily one.”
Bodie couldn’t help smiling. Dear Mrs. Glines had a way of cutting through the cobwebs. Then he thought of Abby, and his smile faded. He leaned against the stair railing. “I should just tell Abby the truth.” He had started plodding up the stairs as if headed to the gallows when Mrs. Glines grabbed his arm.
“Let’s not be too hasty about this. She might not take it very well, and it could impede her recovery. It might interfere with her getting her memory back.”
Speaking of wily ones. The clever old retainer didn’t fool him, yet she had a good point.
“Well, first I have to see if she will even talk to me ever again.”
He headed up the stairs, feeling as if his boots were filled with rocks. Every successive step became harder and slower. He was not even guilty this time. It was just another complication to this godawful mess.
As he expected, her bedroom door was closed. He stood before it for a good minute or two before he got the nerve to knock. There was no answer. He knocked again, a little harder. Still no answer.
“Abby, we need to talk.”
Nothing.
“Please.”
He heard footsteps then and the clicking of the lock. She opened the door. Before she turned her back to him and walked back to the bed, he could see that her eyes were red and puffy. It made his heart hurt.
He approached her but didn’t touch her or get too close to where she was sitting on the bed. She was wearing a lavender dress Mrs. Glines had given her. It was a little too big for her but still looked nice. Simple and nice. He’d be happy if he never saw a ruffle again.
“What you saw was not what it looked like.”
She eyed him accusingly. “It looked like you were kissing her.”
“She was kissing me.”
She didn’t say anything, and he fought the urge to squirm. Finally, he said, “I think she saw or sensed you standing there and did it on purpose.”
Abby digested that. She hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward. “Oh, that would be so like her. She’s evil.”
He smiled. Caroline was conniving and manipulative, no doubt. And then he realized his mother exhibited those same flaws and it wasn’t so amusing.
Abby stood suddenly, took two steps and hugged him fiercely. It took him a moment to get over his shock and hug her back. She felt so soft against his hardness, and he was going to be experiencing more of that hardness if he did not step out of her embrace immediately. So he did.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
“For what?”
“I should have trusted you.”
He leaned down and kissed her softly, meaning it to just be an encouraging peck, but the instant their lips touched, he deepened the kiss and felt like cannons were going off in his head. Her lips were soft and sweet, and her tongue tangled with his passionately. Before he ripped off her dress and ravaged her on the floor, Bodie stepped back abruptly. She looked...happy.
“Now that was a kiss,” she grinned.
And didn’t that make him feel guilty? He had to tell her the truth. But not now.
Chapter 8
As the train approached the Medicine Bow station, Carter Dunne felt confident in his plan of action. His father decided they would check into the Collier Hotel, freshen up and grab a bite to eat, which would give them plenty of time to meet the detective at the sheriff’s office at the designated time of 4:00. They had been assured the woman in question was recovering nicely but was too injured to go anywhere, so they could wait for the detective’s arrival.
Carter could not have devised a more perfect turn of events. He had been able to procure a vial of laudanum from the miscreant he’d crossed paths with in the dining car. They hadn’t even exchanged names, not that he would have given the seedy character his real name. The man obviously was a partaker in the opiate himself, as his eyes were glazed and his countenance sloppy, although his rumpled clothing looked like it once had been expensive. Carter was almost dis
appointed he would not have to kill the pathetic fellow. It was obvious the addict would never remember the transaction. And even if he did, Carter could always claim he had used the laudanum to help him sleep while traveling. A bit underhanded, perhaps, but not a crime, at least not a big one. Not that Carter’s conscience, or lack thereof, saw much of a difference between a small crime and a murder. It was all a means to an end.
By the time the train stopped in Medicine Bow, steam belching and brakes screeching, Rexwell Dunne had lost some of his earlier vigor. His breathing was labored as he paid a young man at the depot to deliver a satchel for each of them to the hotel, leaving most of their belongings in the Pullman. As they walked up the dusty street and approached the hotel, it became clear that Carter would have to assist his father in climbing the two steps into the building.
Maybe he’ll just drop dead here. Could it really be that easy?
He grabbed his father’s elbow and propelled him up the steps. There was no doorman. As they reached the lobby, Rex shook his son’s hand from his elbow and walked determinedly up to the check-in counter. Rexwell Dunne had his pride.
Of course it couldn’t be that easy. Nothing in this life ever was easy.