She clawed and struggled, but couldn’t get free from his iron grasp. Panting, she realized these might be her last few moments of life. “You’re responsible for all the trouble? The kidnapping? The snake? Who else would have such access? You did, every time you came to check on Katie.”
Is that pride in his sneer?
“I even went out to the ranch. How did you like the bloody hatchet? I thought that especially entertaining.”
I have to keep him talking! The alternative was too horrific to contemplate. “You were very clever to send the telegram to Dove Creek. You bandaged the kidnappers’ cuts and bruises once Clint locked them up. It’s all so clear to me now . . .”
In a moment of calm, she tried to jerk away, but he laughed and pinned her to the wall, both of them breathing hard.
Maybe someone will come. Keep talking. Keep talking.
“Please, Doctor! You’re mixed up! You need help. Let us help you.”
“I’ll see this through, only in a different way.” He glanced around.
Is he looking for something to kill me with?
“Please, Dr. Dodge. You were my father’s friend. Why are you doing this? Why? I don’t understand.”
His deranged laughter made her want to cower, but she wouldn’t.
“Your father was never my friend!” He flung the words at her so forcefully spittle covered her face. “I was the one who should have married Celeste. I treated her father the best I could, but he was destined to die. I had a flourishing practice, a nice place for her to live. I could have taken care of her, bought her pretty things. But no. Your father never gave me the chance before rushing her to the altar. I loved her! All those years, I loved your mother from afar, waiting, hoping. But like a rutting stag, he had her with child year after year. He was responsible for her unhappiness, for driving her away.”
“Doctor, I’m sure you’ll feel better later, once you lie down.” His hold around her throat tightened. Her head felt light. Her vision grew dim. Where is everyone? As long as they were talking, he wasn’t thinking about finishing her off.
“When I saw the will, I knew you’d come back to his beloved Eden,” he went on as if it felt good to clear his conscience. “I’d finally have my revenge. Scare you away for good. You’d hate what he’d loved.”
“And the money? Were you after that too?”
Another bark of malevolent laughter ripped from his throat. “That idea came to me later. How rich! I’d not only foil the mighty Brinkman’s plan to bring you all back, but I’d end up with everything he’d worked so hard for.” He sucked in a jerky breath. “With my brother as the mayor, getting access to that fortune won’t be too difficult for me once Harding is dead. My brother has always been as dumb as a log. And then I found dynamite hidden behind the old barn. My plan was perfect . . . and I won’t let you ruin it now.”
His sweaty hand around her throat constricted ever so slowly. No one is coming. No one will find me before it’s too late. She needed to save herself. In a move fueled with the thought that she might never see her sisters—or Blake—again, she jerked up her knee with all the force she could muster.
His breath swooshed out. He swung her around and slapped her with an open hand. “You shouldn’t have come! Now I have to kill you.”
Belle cried at the pain, but just then someone knocked them both over from behind. She fell. Blake and the doctor rolled one over the other until they hit the wall. They scrambled to their feet at the same time. Blake rammed his fist into the doctor’s mouth, which sent him reeling through the doorway. Blake caught him in the infirmary. As they wrestled across the counter, medicine bottles and surgical implements crashed to the floor and against the wall. The doctor grasped a scalpel.
Holding the doorjamb to steady herself, Belle cried out, “Blake! Watch out!”
Too late! The doctor sliced open Blake’s shirt, drawing blood. Blake hooked the large man with a foot around the back of his leg and drove his fist into his abdomen at the same time. Dr. Dodge doubled over with a cry of pain as he fell, but was back instantly with two punches to Blake’s face. Stunned, Blake fell back against the wall.
The doctor dashed out the back door just as Clint rushed in the front.
The sheriff took one look at Blake and Belle. “Where is he?”
Blake hitched his head, and the two ran out after him.
Regaining her senses, Belle followed as best she could. She ran through the alley and found herself in front of the hotel. Frenzied people were everywhere. Nobody understood what was happening.
“Look!” someone shouted and pointed up at the sheer rock wall.
Belle glanced up in horror at the same time Henry appeared at her side. There was no time for words. They watched Blake and Clint closing in on the doctor as he scrambled up the sloped ridge that led to the top.
Blake stumbled, then regained his footing.
“Let him go!” Belle shouted, frightened of the steep drop-off only a few feet away.
At the sound of her voice, the doctor stopped and looked down. Then he turned back to see Blake and Clint closing in fast. Bending, he struggled to lift a large boulder over his head, bent his knees, and launched the weapon.
Blake and Clint darted out of the rock’s path, and it careened past, clattering down the hill, and then off the edge, making people scream and jump back below.
Turning to run, the doctor’s foot slipped. He cried out. With arms akimbo, he looked back the way he was falling, fright etched on his face.
Belle screamed.
Henry grasped her and spun her around to his chest so she wouldn’t see.
A moment later, a deadly quiet settled over Eden—as well as Belle’s heart.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Two days later, Blake entered the Toggery, looking for Belle. The soft scents of new fabric, leather, and shoe polish wafted on the air. He’d been all over town, arriving at places just as she’d left a few moments before. At the café, Lavinia had not so slyly mentioned that Belle had recently received a telegram from Lesley, and then, as if she hadn’t just dumped a fresh road apple in his pocket, asked if he’d like a piece of warm chokecherry pie fresh out of the oven. Women.
In the light of the side window, he spotted Belle in deep conversation with Emma and Mrs. Smith, the woman Henry was involved with. He’d met her a few times but still hadn’t figured out what she meant to his friend. The women held several lengths of fabric between them. Laughter went up, causing him to smile. It felt darn good, having the threat to John’s daughters removed.
“Blake,” Emma called, giving him a quick, half-hearted wave. “Is Johnny over there? Seems he’s hidden himself away.”
Belle smiled, and Mrs. Smith shyly nodded.
“Let me have a look.” He walked around the shop, nodding to Mr. Buns, who looked about as happy as a colicky horse. Wasn’t difficult to guess he didn’t like all the changes coming to the store. The boy wasn’t behind a display of hats, or in the dressing room. At a rack of long dusters, Blake lifted one to find the child crouched underneath.
“Hello, Johnny,” Blake said softly, not wanting to frighten him. “That’s a good hiding spot.”
“Hi,” he whispered back with a slight lisp. He peered out along the floor, and a moment later up at Blake. “Want to hide wiff me?”
A little embarrassed warmth crept into Blake’s face. The innocence in the boy’s blue eyes was something Blake had lost at an early age. He saw caution there too, but not fear.
“Not today, but someday soon. How’s that?”
Johnny nodded, climbed to his feet, and took hold of Blake’s hand, surprising Blake again. He had little experience with children—except for the few months before the girls left the ranch. And then, he’d been a kid himself.
Now that Belle had a genuine reason to do so, she appeared at Blake’s side. “There you are, you little scamp.” She affectionately tweaked Johnny’s nose. “Your mama’s been looking for you.”
Emma and Mr
s. Smith walked over. His mother took Johnny’s hand.
“Are you shopping for new clothes for the upcoming party?” Emma asked. “I’ll be happy to help.” She looked him up and down with a critical brow.
He chuckled and shook his head. “No. I have plenty to wear, thank you very much. Besides, we have time before that happens. I need to get the dance floor put in, close in some rooms, and have a few other areas at the building site to make safe. I wish you’d postpone this crazy idea until the house is completed. Wouldn’t that be better? Then you can show it off.”
“We’ll have another party when it’s finished, silly,” Emma replied, undaunted. “A housewarming.” The better he got to know each sister, the more mystifying layers he discovered. Emma was no exception.
He narrowed his eyes. “What has your color up? Are you plotting against your partner?” She snuck a quick look at Belle, who was smiling.
Emma went up on tiptoe and gave him a brotherly kiss on the cheek. “We’d never plot against you, Blake. You not only saved Katie, but Belle as well. And you’re a good fellow.” Her eyes sparkled with merriment. Apparently finished with the conversation, Emma put her hand on Mrs. Smith’s back and directed the woman to the other side of the store. But only after giving Blake a surreptitious wink.
“How does your arm feel?” Belle asked now that they were alone. She gazed at his arm as if it was the most intriguing subject she’d seen all year. Since their kiss, and then her ordeal with Dr. Dodge, Belle had been friendly—but also wary. He’d seen the questions in her eyes.
Problem was, he didn’t know how to get around the awkwardness without talking. And talking could make matters worse, since he was as confused as all get-out himself. He had to go nice and easy from this day forward.
He rolled up his sleeve so she could see the few stitches Moses had thrown in where the doctor’s scalpel had sliced. “A mite tender, but I’ll live.”
“Good. Good that you’ll live, I mean.” She blushed scarlet. “Have you been by to see Mr. Little?”
“Nope, sure haven’t. I planned to do just that when I went over to check on the livery, the madman doctor’s other casualty of the first blast. Maverick and Mavis are darned lucky no one was hurt and that all that was affected was a small outbuilding. Why?”
“Because I have, early this morning. He’s doing fine, and that’s good, but even in that nice, large boardinghouse room, Mr. Little misses the stinky old tannery and his cramped quarters above. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I had been thinking about tearing down what’s left and building something completely different.”
“Oh? Like what?”
She shook her head. “Not really sure. But I do know anything other than a tannery would break Mr. Little’s heart. And I’d not want to do that to a man so old.” She glanced over to her sister. “I’m leaving. Bye-bye.”
Emma shot a hand in the air but didn’t break her conversation with Mrs. Smith and Mr. Buns, who stood next to the drape that closed off the dressing room. Blake followed Belle to the door, not ready to let her slip away just yet. He’d been ranching for a couple of days and was in need of a little of her attention. Why? He tried not to ask himself.
He stepped out into the sunlight behind Belle and closed the door. The weather couldn’t be nicer for the last day of September. People were coming and going as normal, and everyone had warmed up to Belle and her sisters considerably. Seemed after the doctor incident, everyone felt as close as family.
“Good morning, Miss Brinkman,” Cash called as he led two horses down the middle of the street toward the livery. “Beautiful day.”
“Yes, i-it’s beautiful,” Belle called back haltingly. Blake didn’t miss her cheeks darkening.
Rogue! He may have only been fourteen, but with Clint’s son’s height and build, he didn’t look a day younger than twenty-one. “Good to see you too, Cash,” Blake called boldly. “I have several broken wagon wheels out at the ranch. You going that way soon?” Blake almost chuckled when the boy’s shoulders slumped.
“You’re incorrigible.” Belle softly laughed and looked away.
“Somebody needs to keep that boy in his place.”
“And that somebody should be you?”
“Why not?”
A smile appeared on her lips. She surprised him by taking his arm. “Oh, Blake, it feels so good not to be worried about somebody trying to scare us off—or kill you.” She let go his arm and turned a full circle. “And the beauty of Eden has seeped into my soul.”
But you received a telegram from Lesley. What did it say, Belle? And how did you respond?
“I can’t believe at one time I thought of the ranch as a means to an end. Was I really that shallow?” A couple of cowboys riding down the street tipped their hats to her, and she smiled. “Look across the street. Mr. Little is waving to us from his room.” She raised her arm and waved back, smiling broadly. “I need to bake him a dozen cookies.” She captured his gaze with hers. “You think he’d like that?”
Who wouldn’t? “I do, Belle. I think he’d like that very much.”
They were heading for the hotel in the calm of the day, but Blake felt an edge to his mood. What does that mean? It was almost as if Belle had taken him at his word, saying the kiss didn’t mean a thing. She’s gotten past it. Too bad it was ever present in his mind.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
In what would be her new bedroom when the house was finished, Belle fiddled with her hair in the reflection of a large mirror that was set on a temporary dresser. The party night had arrived. Decorations had been hung in the trees, the studded-but-open walls, and the barn below in the ranch yard.
Frustrated, she made a face. With shaky hands, she pinned the last of her hair into place. The second-story room was spacious and had a gorgeous view of the mountains. Her chest tightened, thinking how she’d been blessed—she and all her sisters. In this house, she felt almost as if their father was still alive. And their mother too. All of them together.
Wearing only her pantaloons and chemise, she refused to let any thought or feeling put a damper on their party. “I won’t be sad tonight. Father intended this house as a gift. To be celebrated, not to be a reminder of things that could have been.” She took a deep breath and lifted the photograph of her parents off the dresser. It had been taken after they’d married but before Mavis had been born. Blake had found several photographs right after her father had passed and surprised the sisters with the gifts. Belle fingered the image for a moment and then placed a kiss on each beloved face.
“My room will be perfect, Father,” she said aloud, feeling a bit of comfort. “As will the rest of the house. Blake and the men have worked so hard, and Henry has practically burned up the telegraph apparatus with all the orders he’s been putting out on our account. Furniture, wall coverings, hardware. As much as we’ve protested, he’s not let us scrimp, and now I’m glad for it.”
Heat pricked her eyes. “Mother, you’d love it here. You’d have all the necessities you didn’t have before.” She glanced around the bare upstairs room. Blankets enclosed the open walls. Blake had had the carpenters fashion a temporary-but-sturdy staircase so each of the sisters could prepare in her own bedroom.
Steps echoed on the bare wood outside her room. “Knock, knock. It’s Mavis. May I come in?”
Belle quickly blinked away the moisture pooling behind her eyes as she set the picture back in its spot. “Yes. You’re just in time to help me with my buttons.”
Mavis floated in, looking beautiful in a lavender velvet gown perfect for her coloring. Tonight she wore elbow-length white gloves. She looked stunning. “Oh, Mavis. I’ve never seen you more beautiful.”
Her face brightened. “Thank you, Belle. I do feel pretty tonight.”
With the cool evenings, the girls had chosen to wear velvet, but in varying shades and styles. With the help of Mrs. Smith, Karen, and a few other townswomen, they’d been able to complete the dresses on time. Carefully lifting her periwin
kle-pink gown off the bed, Belle lowered it, then lifted one petticoat-covered leg and prudently stepped inside. Shimmying the dress into place, she turned. Mavis began fastening the row of twenty-five fabric-covered buttons with practiced speed.
Finished, Mavis ran her hand over the fabric. “Turn around and let me have a look.”
Feeling like a princess, Belle turned.
Mavis sucked in a breath. “Oh! Blake won’t know what to do with himself when he sees you.”
Belle, who was smoothing one sleeve, brought her gaze up. “Blake? What do you mean?”
Mavis smiled and tipped her head, tsking softly. “Seriously, Belle. You’re not going to pretend there isn’t something between you and Blake, are you? Your feelings are as plain as the nose on my face. Surely you’re ready to give up the pretense of friendship.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Belle sputtered, feeling muddled and a bit angry. Tonight was special. She didn’t want to ruin the celebration with cross words with Mavis or confusing thoughts of Blake. He’d invaded her dreams for the last month, though, exciting and puzzling her. He’s made it perfectly clear we’re friends and friends only! Why can’t my sister leave me alone? Tonight, all she wanted to do was relax and waltz a time or two. “Blake and I are friends. Just like the rest of you.”
“You’re being silly!” Mavis’s voice had lost its softness. “If what you say is true, you’d better let him know. He’s in love with you, Belle. There was a change around the time of your birthday, and I thought the two of you had an understanding but were keeping the surprise under wraps until now.”
Remembering the kiss, she stood firm. “I can assure you that is not the case.”
They stared at each other.
“Really?”
Unable to hold Mavis’s stare a moment longer, Belle fluffed out her skirt and repositioned the yards of velvet around her petticoat. “Yes, really.”
Lavinia pushed aside the blanket and slipped into the room. She stopped just inside the door. Her dark-blue dress was just as attractive as the others. “What’s going on?” she asked, warily creeping closer. “I heard your voices. You’re not fighting, are you?”
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