"Sleeping herb in coffee,” guessed Rainee.
"He only had chicken broth."
"So. Sleeping herb in soup."
Jessica glanced at her, remembering how she herself had reacted to a small dose of Penelope's medicine; she'd been dizzy, then fallen into a deep sleep. Could Penelope have given him some of that nerve medicine? Of course, there was no proof, nor was there likely to be.
"When Grace went upstairs to check on him, Penelope was pressing a pillow over his face,” Jessica went on. “Grace told the police she must have gasped when she saw it, because Penelope heard her and said if she didn't keep her mouth shut, Penelope would call in the police and accuse her of killing him. The poor girl was terrified and let herself be convinced that no one would believe the word of a servant over the word of Mrs. Hugh Gresham."
"Turkey magic,” muttered Rainee.
Startled, Jessica looked at her questioningly.
"Turkey never fight, always run from enemies,” she explained. “Why mother make turkey-spirit maid lie about you?"
"That was after I inherited instead of Penelope. Ironic, isn't it? If she hadn't wanted to get even with me, she'd never have been caught. No one but the maid thought his death was anything but natural."
"Not just for get even. If you hang, maybe mother think she get money."
Jessica sat down abruptly. It made a sort of crazy sense; Penelope must have killed Oliver for the money. Then when Jessica inherited instead and refused to share, Penelope had forced the maid into a false accusation. Her mother had been so strange in the last months; it was just possible she actually believed herself to be Jessica's heiress.
"Indian way better. Give away or kill dead person's horses and bury clothes. Then no reason for family kill each other."
Jessica smiled wryly at the idea of Penelope being forced by custom to give away or bury Oliver Duplessis’ fortune. “Henry says she wants me to come to Fort Worth to stand by her."
Rainee grunted contemptuously. “Great Cannibal Owl still hungry. You stay here, not get eaten."
Jessica nodded. “I'm not going, but I can hardly believe she actually—her own father. How could she—"
"That one could do anything."
"But what if she didn't? What if everything the maid said was a lie? I suppose I should at least send the money she spent on me when she took Travis and me into her house—the wedding she gave us and everything."
"They pay to get you husband?” asked Rainee, looking more disapproving than ever. “Foolish custom. How Travis know your value if not pay for you? Jed Beeker give my father many horses."
Jessica smiled weakly. “I'm sure you were worth every horse of it, Rainee."
"You speak truth. If Travis pay for you, he not let you go. Insist on wife or get horses back."
"I don't want to hear anything about Travis."
"Huh. Good you not go to mother. Why she think you would?"
"Penelope has a very selective memory,” said Jessica wearily. “She remembers forever what she considers offenses against herself, but rarely the offenses she commits against others. She always considers those justified. In fact, I'm not sure that she remembers much of anything any longer. She—she has—"
"Too much firewater in belly?” Rainee suggested.
Jessica nodded and closed her eyes.
"You all right?"
"Actually, I don't feel very well. Maybe I'll lie down for a bit before I go out on business."
"Good. You look like coyote who drinks from poison spring."
"I tell you sometime baby come from Saturday-night marriage."
"I don't know that I'm with child,” said Jessica in a wobbly voice.
"I know. Tomorrow send for husband."
Jessica shook her head.
"Send!” Rainee commanded in her best no-nonsense voice. “Now you two share lodge. No more Saturday night—"
"He doesn't come on Saturdays anymore,” Jessica interrupted drearily.
"—like you some loose woman in feathers,” Rainee continued. “You tell husband baby come. He move back to your lodge."
"You're a very bossy woman,” said Jessica sulkily. “Just because I feel that you're family doesn't mean you can treat me like a child."
"You act like child; Rainee treat like child,” said Rainee, but her tone had softened considerably at Jessica's declaration that she regarded her housekeeper as family.
"Oh, Rainee, what am I going to do?"
"Send for husband."
"I doubt that he'd come,” said Jessica unhappily. Then she straightened her shoulders. “And I wouldn't want him to. I can raise the child by myself. That would be better than giving him a father who can't be trusted."
"No trust?” exclaimed Rainee. “Why you say that? You need Travis, he come. He keep you from hanging for grandfather's death. Now you, send for him."
"No, and you're not to either."
"What are you doing here?” asked Jessica, overcome with confusion and alarm. She looked around wildly for her housekeeper, but Rainee was nowhere in sight.
"I've come to make my peace with you, Jessica. I know we've had hard words, but it's wrong for a mother and daughter to be at odds."
"I thought you'd been arrested,” said Jessica bluntly, too upset by her mother's unexpected appearance to observe any amenities.
"It was a mistake, dear. As you can see, they let me go.” Penelope gave her a bright, nervous smile. “Surely you didn't believe that I killed my own father?"
"You told them I had,” Jessica stammered defensively. The dog had slunk into the room and began to growl at Penelope from behind Jessica's skirts.
"I said no such thing. Why would I say you'd hurt Father? You weren't even in Fort Worth when he died.” Penelope glanced down at the agitated dog. “I think that creature wants to go outside, Jessica. Why don't you—"
"The police officer from Fort Worth said you told them I was the one with the motive."
"He lied,” snapped Penelope impatiently. “Now put your dog out."
"He doesn't like to go outside.” Where was Rainee, for God's sake? Jessica wondered desperately.
"Mothers and daughters should be close,” said Penelope. “I was so touched when you sent Henry the money for me."
Had Penelope really been touched? Jessica wondered. She had expected resentment because she hadn't sent more. “I was returning what you spent on me—for the wedding and everything,” Jessica mumbled. The conversation seemed unreal. Penelope was talking almost like a normal mother.
"I've brought you a little gift,” said Penelope. “It's not much, of course. My income is quite small."
Ah, now the demands and recriminations would start.
"But I did make these myself.” Penelope smiled and produced a little package wrapped in gaily colored paper. Reluctantly, Jessica accepted it because it was thrust into her hands. “Open it,” said Penelope eagerly.
Jessica did and found inside three little tea cakes of the kind her mother liked, except that these were misshapen and inexpertly frosted. Jessica realized with astonishment that her mother might actually have made them. “Th-thank you,” she stammered.
"You're welcome.” Penelope gave her another sweet smile. “Have one,” she invited.
"Oh, I'll—I'll save them for later."
Penelope frowned. “It's not often I cook, Jessica."
Jessica hadn't known she ever did.
"I made them just for you."
"Thank you."
Penelope snatched one of the cakes from the open package and thrust it at Jessica. “The least you could do is show your appreciation by trying one."
Jessica backed away from the out-thrust hand, but James Hogg, always ready to accept offerings of food, didn't. He leapt up, jaws open and drooling, to snatch the cake from Penelope's hand with a loud and appreciative “woof."
"Bad dog,” cried Jessica and then had to stifle a nervous giggle at the expression of alarm on her mother's face.
"Make hi
m give it back,” Penelope demanded.
"I'm afraid it's too late,” said Jessica. The dog had swallowed the little cake whole and was eying the remaining lumps in the package with longing. “But I promise I'll eat the others myself. Cake isn't good for dogs."
"Yes, do have one now, Jessica. I certainly didn't make them for your—your animal."
Penelope was reaching for another sweet when Rainee burst in breathlessly, saying to the man behind her, “There is evil one.” The man was Ras Landry.
Jessica looked from the sheriff to her mother. “She said she'd been freed,” Jessica said.
"Only on bond,” said the sheriff, “and she jumped it two days ago and disappeared. Had a telegram from Hartwig just this morning. They were afraid she might be heading this way."
James Hogg had begun to whine at Jessica's feet. Penelope was backing up, her eyes flicking apprehensively to the dog, whose whimpers and twitching increased. Jessica looked down at him too, then back at her mother. “What have you done?” she whispered.
"Nothing,” said Penelope. “He shouldn't have been so greedy."
"Come along, Miz Gresham.” The sheriff took her in a firm grip. “I'll be putting you on a train back to Fort Worth."
"Yes, yes,” Penelope agreed. “I must go back. Don't forget your present, Jessica."
The dog had gone rigid, then limp. Rainee was staring at the cakes on the table. “Great Cannibal Owl make evil medicine,” she muttered.
Penelope smiled flirtatiously at the sheriff. “I'm Jessica's heir, you know,” she murmured to him. “The Duplessis heiress still.” She produced her old trilling laughter.
"You're not,” said Jessica, overcome with horror. How could her mother have thought that?
"Of course I am. Now, Sheriff, you realize that I have to travel first class."
"Yes, ma'am. I'll even provide an escort,” he added dryly.
"Enjoy your cakes, Jessica,” crooned Penelope. The sheriff was urging her toward the door. “Wait, I must have some of my medicine.” She rummaged in her bag as Ras Landry led her away.
"You all right?” Rainee asked into the silence that followed their departure.
Jessica nodded.
"I take dog away."
Jessica shook her head.
"You eat cake?” Rainee was looking worried.
Jessica shook her head again.
"You want sit by self?"
Jessica nodded.
Studying her for a moment longer, Rainee nodded as well and went into the kitchen.
Jessica was in the rocking chair, her fingers trailing through James Hogg's thick fur, when a sound at the front door attracted her attention. Travis stood on the threshold, his face cold and closed. “Rainee sent word that you wanted to see me."
"She shouldn't have,” Jessica whispered, her heart aching. Travis looked at her as if she were a stranger.
Then his eyes sharpened, and he demanded, “What's wrong with you, Jessica?"
At his harsh tone, Jessica burst into tears. Had he been kind, she acknowledged to herself, she would probably have fallen into his arms in gratitude. As it was, his barely withheld anger toppled the last block in the wall of her self-control. “She killed James Hogg,” Jessica mumbled incoherently, tears pouring down her cheeks.
Travis looked at the dog, who appeared to be sleeping by Jessica's chair. “He looks all right to me."
"Dog dead,” Rainee declared. She stood in the kitchen doorway, hands on hips, scowling at both of them.
"What did you want me to do about it?” asked Travis warily. “You sent for me because the dog died?"
"If dog not die, Jessica die. Poison meant for her."
Travis's face turned white and grim. “Penelope,” he guessed. “I thought she was in jail in Fort Worth."
"She escape. Come for father's money."
Travis's mouth twisted. “So you put her in your will, after all?” He stared at Jessica with contempt. “You do pick the damnedest people to trust,” he added bitterly. “Anyone of your blood, is that it?"
"I not send for you to make her feel worse,” snapped Rainee.
"Why then?” He wasn't giving an inch.
"I have evil crazy woman in house, need help. Sheriff come first."
"Well, then I'm not needed."
"You talk to wife. She have news for you.” Rainee gave Jessica a compelling look.
"What?” Travis asked, studying Jessica in a way that made her want to run from the room.
"Nothing,” she replied quickly.
"Only foolish man leave without news,” said Rainee, “but then, you both fools.” She whirled and slammed the kitchen door behind her.
"All right, what is it?"
"I didn't make Penelope my heir,” Jessica replied, hoping that statement would divert him.
"Now, why don't I believe that's what Rainee was talking about?” he asked dryly. “Have you made a will at all?"
"No."
"Well, you'd best do it to be on the safe side, hadn't you? You wouldn't want all that Duplessis and Harte money to go to your worst enemy."
"You're not my worst enemy,” she whispered.
"Since when? Do I look a little less reprehensible because I, at least, haven't tried to kill you?” he asked sarcastically. “But that's getting us off the subject of your will. Since you're young, maybe you can afford to put off making one. Not feeling poorly, are you?"
"N-no,” Jessica stammered.
"Are you?” Travis looked at her more closely. “Jess, is something wrong with you?"
"No,” she said, alarmed.
"Are you sick?"
Had Rainee told him about the attacks of nausea?
"Have you seen a doctor? Let me look at you.” Travis pulled her abruptly from the rocking chair, and Jessica's hands flew protectively to her stomach, a gesture that he didn't miss.
"I'll be damned,” he muttered, remembering how much he'd wanted her to be carrying his child last winter—the night Joe Ray had blown their relationship sky high. Now evidently she was, now when they were further apart than ever. “You weren't planning to tell me, were you?” he asked sadly.
Jessica turned her head away, tears rising again in her eyes.
"Were you?” he demanded. “Do you really hate me that much?"
"You know it's not that."
"Well then, you don't trust me.” When she didn't reply, he pulled her roughly into his arms. “That's not fair, you know, not trusting me. I've always tried to make you happy. You were happy, damn it, until Joe Ray opened his big mouth. Look at me, Jessica.” He forced her chin up and looked into blue eyes drowned with tears. “It's not as if you've been so happy since you kicked me out."
Her lips trembled, but she didn't answer.
"You agree? Good. Well, I've been patient long enough. No matter how you feel about me, we're living together, same house, same bed, and you'll find I'm a damned good father to the child. I don't suppose you wanted it."
"I did too,” she protested.
"Well, that's a start. Damn, I don't have a house."
"What happened to it?"
"I sold it. I was so mad at you that I sold it."
"Did you make a profit?"
Travis stared at her in astonishment. “Jessica, you are one unromantic woman! Did I make a profit? Here I bought you a house, and all you care about is if I sold it at a profit."
"I have no reason to be romantic about you, Travis. I wasn't married for romantic reasons. Our marriage came about because you hate my family."
"Look, Jessica, let's get something straight. I've known for months that Hugh was mixed up with thieves, and I didn't do anything about it. Not because I don't hate him. I do. I kept out of it for your sake."
"You did?"
"I did."
"But they're both in jail,” she ventured uncertainly.
"I didn't put them there."
"But you're probably happy about it."
"Delighted,” he agreed. “You should be too. H
ugh's a thief, and Penelope's a murderer, several times over if she could have got away with it. For God's sake, you were an intended victim, Jess! As for the Harte side of your family, I probably like them better than they like me."
"Are you saying all this because of Grandfather's money?” she asked suspiciously.
"Don't be dense, Jessie. I'm rich too. I'm also hopelessly, head-over-heels in love with you."
Jessica's eyes widened. Her mouth rounded in an “O” of surprise. Her breath caught helplessly in her chest. Hopelessly, head-over-heels in love? Could that be the truth?
"At a certain point, in case it hasn't occurred to you, a few million extra doesn't make any difference,” he continued.
If he really was so much in love with her, why had it taken him a year to tell her?
"And that's how I feel about your money. It's nice, but we hardly need it."
Except for the initial deception, he'd always been truthful—so maybe ... just maybe...
"Jessica, are you listening to me?"
"You really mean it?"
"About the money?"
"No, not the money,” she retorted impatiently. “About being in love with me."
"Yes.” He looked wary again.
"Aren't you going to say anything else?” The brief glow ignited by his declaration was fading fast.
"Why?"
Although Jessica felt like an importunate fool, he was waiting for an answer, looking rather grim. “I just—just wanted to hear about—about your loving me."
"And then what? You're going to say you don't believe me? Or you don't care?"
She studied him with surprise. He was afraid of being rejected! He must have believed her when she told him she was using him for physical pleasure. Although he'd laughed at the time and seemed to accept the situation, perhaps he had been hurt. Had she been so protective of her own pride that she'd failed to realize his was at stake as well? “Travis, you know that I've always loved you."
"I haven't known it lately,” he muttered, “but it doesn't matter. We're going to have a child, and I'm not letting you go through that alone. We'll just have to live together—somewhere. I shouldn't have sold that damn house."
"It doesn't matter about the house,” she replied tenderly.
"Of course it matters. We're not living here; it's too dangerous, and you can't move into my room at the boardinghouse."
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