Harnessed Passions

by Dee Jones

  "Dourn could be an alias."

  "That's what I'm thinking. As much as I'd like to blame the guy though, I just can't imagine he's the one behind everything happening. There's just that nagging feeling in the back of my mind. Then there's Sharon Farnsworth."

  "Now who's she?"

  "Her family owns the land next to the stables. She used to live around here until her sister Heather died."

  "Oh, I remember now. There was some talk at the time of Julia being responsible for the accident. She died out at the ranch as I recall. The talk died down though, when the Sheriff and Dr. Stewart confirmed it was just an accidental drowning. That would have happened just about the time you came here."

  "I know, Louise told me about it. I also know Sharon blamed Julia for her sister's death. Now here she shows up five years later, friendlier than the devil himself, all smiles and sweet words. None of it adds up, Harold. There's just too damned many coincidences for me to trust any of it at face value. I even considered perhaps Jeremy was responsible at first, but Julia means too much to him for him to cause her any grief, and there's something else."

  "What, more good news?"

  "Julia claims to have seen Heather Farnsworth's ghost, twice now. The first time, she said Heather tried to drown her at the pond. The last time was the night of the fire. I can't accept the idea of spooks and spirits haunting the ranch."

  "How can you be so certain she didn't see Heather? It's possible after all; they were best friends."

  "Julia said Heather told her she's responsible for her death and she's come back for revenge. Does that sound like the act of a best friend, dead or alive?"

  "It sounds crazy that's what it sounds like."

  "Listen Harold, Julia's no crazier than you are."

  "And who's saying I'm sane?" the man teased, straightening up looking at his friend sternly. "So tell me, if your wife hasn't lost her senses, what do you think she saw?"

  "I think she saw someone posing as Heather; a jealous friend perhaps or somebody who has a grudge. Perhaps just some kid playing a sick joke. I saw a woman at the ranch the night of the fire as well, but it didn’t look like a ghost to me. I don't know what’s going on, but I know those footprints we found at the pond weren't made by any ghost."

  "What foot prints?"

  "Jeremy and I went back to the pond after Julia's accident. We found several footprints, one set were barefoot. Jeremy also found a piece of rope and a torn piece of white satin with traces of blood on it. You can't tell me a ghost is capable of bleeding."

  "Okay. What do want me to do?"

  "I was hoping you could check out this guy, Dourn. See if he really is who he claims to be. Then see what you can find out about Sharon Farnsworth and any other enemies Julia might have had, either here or back in Boston. If I started snooping around somebody might get antsy and panic. We’ve lost enough horses; I can't risk taking the chance of losing more or having Julia hurt again."

  "Alright pal, I'll do what I can. I'll make some inquiries about Dourn and we'll see what pans out about Farnsworth and I'll want to see that piece of rope and satin you found," Harold began making notes as he issued his own orders to his partner. "There is another possibility neither of us want to think about," he said after a few moments.

  "Which is?"

  "That it's Julia herself doing all of this. She may not even be aware of it."

  "That's crazy Harold and you know it. You're just as bad as the damned stable hands, accusing Julia of be this mystery woman lurking around the ranch. She could never do any of those things, not to herself or to her father's land!"

  "Alright Daniel, calm down. It was just a thought and one you may have to face. I know there have been rumors circling the town about this mystery woman of yours and I don't doubt the news of Julia's accident has found its way into the bonnets of the local gossips. There are still those who feel Julia was responsible for the Farnsworth gal's death, even though the sheriff cleared her of it. It could also be something as sinister as someone trying to frame her,” Harold suggested. “Someone who has never forgiven her for the past, perhaps?”

  “Sharon Farnsworth,” Daniel nodded, understanding the track his friend was leading down. “I’ve thought about that a lot. Louise said she was hateful to Julia after Heather died. That, as well as the grief that surrounded her friend’s death, was what sent Julia to Boston in the first place.”

  “I definitely think we need to check out the girl. What do you know about her?”

  “I know her parents moved to New York after Heather died. Apparently they never sold their land and that’s why Sharon is here now; fixing it up to a livable condition. She said she arrived the day of Victor’s funeral.”

  “Okay, that’s a place to start. I think I’ll ask Williams at the general store. He’s a wealth of information; he may have a forwarding address on the family. Tell me what you know about Dourn?”

  Daniel spent the next half hour giving his friend the information he needed and telling him everything he knew, or was told, before the two decided to call it a day and go back to Harold's home.

  The thought of Julia being responsible for everything happening at the ranch was hard to swallow and Daniel swore he wouldn't think about it again, yet as they rode back to the house in silence the words his friend had said began to echo through his mind. He had managed to put an end to the gossip at the ranch, but to hear it from his best friend and know the rumors had reached as far at town, didn't sit well on his nerves one little bit. He turned to Harold narrowing his turquoise eyes.

  "Goddam you Leonard," he growled. "Why did you have to go and accuse my wife?"

  "Look, just forget I mentioned it, alright? Chalk it up to a lawyer's curiosity; my meddling instincts are running overtime."

  "I can't forget it; it's too crazy to conceive, but the bloody thoughts are still there, no thanks to you."

  "Daniel look; the day of Victor’s funeral, Julia was attacked from behind, right? She hates snakes, as you have pointed out and if her near drowning wasn't an accident, then somebody had to have been behind that as well. The only thing she doesn't have an alibi for, was the night the fire started."

  "Like hell she doesn't," Daniel snapped, irritated beyond rationality. "She was in bed with me and damn close to losing her virginity. If it hadn't been for her brother banging on the door, I would have made her mine, then and there."

  "There you have it; she couldn't possibly have started the fire when she was in bed with you."

  "That's what I've been trying to tell you, you son of a bitch!"

  "So you proved your point." They again fell into silence until they neared Dr. Stewart's office. The old man was just coming out the door when he spotted Daniel and Harold riding by in the Turner's Dearborn. He waved at them; stopping them before they could pass.

  "How's that wife of yours Daniel?" he asked, stepping to the carriage and reaching up to shake the two men's hands.

  "She's just fine thank you," he answered turning to his friend and added, "innocent as an angel." The old man cleared his throat and looked back to Harold, who offered him a shy smile as explanation.

  "How's your baby coming along?" the doctor asked him, making an attempt at polite conversation. "Getting settled in with him, alright?"

  "Everything's great, but it'd be better if I could sleep through the night. Harrison has a habit of waking up every two hours to eat and that usually wakes up Maggie who comes into our bed. I’m about ready to sleep at the office."

  "Sounds like his father," Daniel remarked with a snarled grin. "Always has to have something in his mouth."

  "Yes, well," the old man stammered, as he shuffled his feet in preparation to leave.

  "Hey doc," Daniel said, stopping him from turning away. "I was wondering if you could answer a few questions for me."

  "Depends on what they are."

  "A few years back, a young girl died at the swimming pond on the Turner property."

  "Heather Farnsworth. I remembe
r; sad situation, especially for your wife. She took it hard. What do you want to know?"

  "Do you remember how she died?"

  "We don't have that many young girls drown around here to forget them."

  "So she did drown?" Daniel commented, eliminating the idea of the same person being behind Julia's attack as well as Heather's death.

  "That's the official cause of death. She was alive when she fell in the water and dead when she was pulled out."

  "How can you be sure she drowned?" Daniel's attention was on full alert as his partner confronted the aging physician.

  "Her lungs were filled with water. You have to be breathing for that to happen."

  "I remember at the time, people said she was struck on the head. Could that have been what killed her?"

  "She did have a severe laceration on the head, but she wouldn't have died from it normally. If she hadn’t ended up in the water, she would have suffered a concussion, been in bed a few days, nothing more. No doubt she fell and struck her head tumbling into the water and drowned. She wasn’t a very good swimmer as I recall."

  "Could somebody have struck her and then perhaps pushed in the water?" Harold asked, receiving a questioning look from Daniel.

  "It's always possible, but I doubt it. Heather was a friendly little girl; well-liked and easy to get along with. I just can't imagine anybody wanting to hurt her."

  "Do you remember anything else happening at the time, anything unusual that could prove useful?" Harold continued his examination, while Daniel listened with interest.

  "Why all the questions? What are you getting at?" The doctor eyed the two men suspiciously as he confronted them both.

  "Sharon Farnsworth is back in town, did you know that?" Harold asked.

  "I hadn't heard, but I don't keep an ear on the gossip."

  "I know she blamed Julia at the time for Heather’s death. I just want to clear up the suspicion." Daniel glared at his partner, anger burning hot within his blue eyes.

  "That's absurd. Julia would never have harmed that girl; they were like sisters, everyone knew that. Those two were never seen without the other one." The doctor eyed the man sternly before turning to Daniel, narrowing his examining eyes on him. "Do you believe those rumors about your wife?"

  "No, I do not," Daniel answered confidently. The doctor nodded his head as though to silently applaud the man's insight and turned, stepping up to his own carriage. He stopped and turned back around looking at the men for a moment, before speaking.

  "There is one more thing now that I think of it, though I probably shouldn’t be telling you," he said, scratching the grey stubble on his chin. "I suppose there’s no harm to it now. The doctor over in Graves County is a friend of mine. A couple of weeks after Heather's death, we were talking and he told me she'd gone to see him."

  "She saw another doctor, why?" Harold's years of cross examination was beginning to pay off and he pushed for more information from the old man.

  "He said she came in to confirm her pregnancy. There was a young man with her, but he didn't get his name. Heather told him they had gotten married in secret and didn't want her family to know about it; they wouldn’t approve of the social differences. He put her on a special diet and sent her home with instructions to come talk with me, but she never did. If you think anyone would have had a motive to kill her, try finding that man who was with her and see what he has to say." The old man shut the door to his carriage and pulled it onto the street, leaving Harold and Daniel to watch his departure.

  "Pregnant?" Harold said in a shocked tone.

  "That could explain her death," Daniel said softly. "Perhaps the father didn't want to marry her and decided to get rid of her before she had a chance to tell her own father, either that or he was already married."

  "But Heather told the doctor in Graves, they were married. If she was telling the truth why kill her, especially since he went with her in the first place? It wasn't as though it was a surprise to him. Something doesn't add up here. I'm going to take a trip over to Graves County in the morning and check out this other doctor's story. Want to come along?"

  "I can't. I've got to get the horses ready for the sale and there's Roustabout's training to take care of, but I want to know what you find out the minute you get back."

  "You'll be the first to know."

  When Daniel walked into the large well-furnished house, he spotted Julia and Margie deep in conversation. Julia's face was a deep red and Margie was laughing openly at something she either said or something Julia had told her. He walked over to her with deliberate slowness leaning his arms on the back of the small settee, pinning his wife in the cushions.

  "Hello Princess," he said smoothly, leaning down to kiss her cheek. Julia lowered her eyes at the man's intent stare, the color burning hotter against her ivory complexion. "I thought I warned you to keep quite?" His tone was even as he confronted her, but his eyes sparkled like rare gems, reminding her of the consequences for talking.

  "Oh stop it, Daniel," Margie growled, slapping his arm. "She didn't tell me anything I didn't guessed myself. It wasn't that hard either; after all, you practically raped her on the front walk."

  "He did what?" Harold snorted, laughing and slapping his leg at the vision he imagined of his sophisticated partner attacking a woman in broad daylight.

  "I did no such thing Mrs. Leonard and you know it," Daniel sat next to his wife, laying his arm around her shoulders. "I merely kissed her good-bye. If that's rape, then I think half of this country is in trouble."

  "You did more than kiss her, Daniel Browning. Why she nearly swooned before she reached the steps."

  "My wife does not swoon, Margie Leonard."

  "Exactly what would you call it, when she can barely walk two steps without passing out?"

  "Did you pass out?" Daniel asked his wife, concern etched on his handsome face.

  "No, Daniel. Margie's exaggerating," Julia answered, blushing again under his inspection.

  "Enough," Harold argued, interrupting his wife from commenting. "We’ve had a long day and I'm starving, so let's eat." The four walked into the dining room where Sylvia, the Leonard's maid, was just setting dinner on the table. There was roast turkey with hazel nut dressing, fresh cream corn, grits and corn bread with strawberry preserves. The table was set with gold trimmed china and crystal goblets and Daniel noticed the look of total awe from Julia and leaned close to whisper in her ear.

  "Margie likes to go all out," he whispered, sending warm shivers running along her spine. "It's rare when she can show off her good stuff." Julia giggled softly, as he wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her back out the door and away from preying eyes.

  "I missed you," he whispered softly, covering her mouth with the gentle pressure of his own. Julia's arms wrapped around his neck and her lips parted eagerly kissing him back. She felt the muscles respond in Daniel's neck and shoulders as he restrained to keep his control; their tongues battling the secret war she loved participating in, anxious for the evening to wind down so they could go home. She delighted in the feel of him next to her and her fingers toyed with the leather lace he had wrapped around his hair, holding it in a tight ponytail behind his neck. She played and twisted with the length of the dark strands until the broke free and she could twine her fingers through the mass.

  Julia lingered in her husband’s embrace for several long moments; kissing, tasting, feeling his heated response press against her thigh until Margie called to them. Daniel growled a reluctant moan, as he pulled away from her slowly. He kissed the tip of her nose and pressed the hard evidence of his desire against her thigh one last time before he took her hand and led her to their waiting meal.

  Glancing at the clock as she sat in the chair he held for her, Julia mentally began calculating the hours. It was five o’clock now, an hour to eat and share pleasant conversation then back home; another forty-minutes; a drink with her mother before they could retire. That would mean by eight thirty at the latest, she would
finally be able to enjoy her husband’s charms without interruption. She was certain she could wait that long, unless she could convince him into pulling over under a tree. After all, the Dearborn did have a covered roof.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  As predicted, Daniel pulled the carriage away from the walkway at ten minutes after six. Julia made arrangements to come back and visit soon and Daniel exchanged a private conversation with Harold, assuring him he would be waiting for his visit on the following day.

  They drove the short distance back to the office Daniel shared with Harold and pulled the horses up to the livery where Ben Winslow was working outside the large barn, shoeing an old black mare. Julia frowned; this wasn’t where she wanted to be; she was eager to go home and be alone with her husband, not visiting the local merchants.

  “Hey Ben,” Daniel called out as he jumped from the Dearborn and tethered the horses around the post. He shook hands with the heavy set black man and patted the horse on the neck. They spoke for several moments before he shook his hand again and went back to Julia.

  “I need to get some things from my flat, and Ben said he’d feed the horses for us.” Julia narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but accepted her husband’s help climbing down from the carriage. They walked hand-in-hand to the three story brownstone that stood on the corner about a block away and stopped. The large window outside held the words Stone and Browning, Attorneys at Law. Daniel saw the confused look on his wife’s young face and smiled

  “Why are we here?” she asked; chills traveling up her spine as he squeezed her hand gently.

  “I told you, I have some things I want to pick up from my flat. I figured we might as well stop now rather than make another trip into town.”

  “You mean you live at your office?” she frowned again as he wrapped her hand inside his and walked casually toward the door.

  “I don’t live in my office, I live above it,” he chuckled. “I’ll have to arrange to lease it out, or perhaps keep it for business; I haven’t decided yet. I suppose we can make that choice later down the road.”