Mail Order Promises

by Julianna Blake

  “Then you had to whine and complain about me to Dr. Archer—who is no more than a doddering, incompetent fool! I doubt he’s read a medical journal in twenty years! I should be at a prestigious hospital in Boston or New York. But I get caught one time—one time—stealing the answers for tests, and my medical career is over before it’s begun! Sure, my father took care of things for me—passed around enough money to keep me in medical school. But in the end, the word got around, and soon no one would hire me but a crotchety old doctor in a worthless mining town! It might as well be the ends of the earth, because surely I am living in Hell!”

  Foyle threw up his arms in a furious gesture. “And if that wasn’t bad enough, I have a harlot like you, looking down your nose at me! Telling Archer that I’m not good enough to be your doctor. You aren’t good enough to lick my shoes! You’re no better than filthy trash!”

  Lilly cringed under his verbal assault. The words mimicked, too closely, the words whispered in her ear as Theodore had violated her on the dirt floor of the church basement. She blinked back tears, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

  “I’ve seen your type before—I’ve had dozens just like you, when I was at Harvard. The type of girl who fawned all over me because I was a medical student, and they saw me as the key to a promising marriage and higher social position. They all acted sweet and innocent—but I knew what they really wanted. They were all too eager to spend time alone with me, which only proved they were asking for it—just as you were. You’re no different than they were. I gave them what they wanted—at least some of what they wanted, because I certainly would never lower myself to marry a woman who spread her legs so easily. Sometimes the little trollop would claw at my back in passion, she was so aroused, and sometimes she’d try to push me away, thinking she could just change her mind once she’d gotten me going. But that’s not how things work in the real world. I suppose you finally learned that lesson, didn’t you?”

  With dawning horror, Lilly realized that Foyle’s depravity wasn’t equal to that of Theodore Bennett—his was much, much worse. She wrenched her hands, twisting to release her bindings, but they wouldn’t budge.

  “Don’t bother with that, you stupid girl. They taught us a variety of very useful knots during our surgical apprenticeship—you aren’t going anywhere,” he laughed derisively. He sat on the bed and leaned over her, whispering in her ear, as if he were a lover. “Morgan got what he deserved when he was fooled into marrying another trollop for a wife…but only part of what he deserved. He’ll get it all over again when you disappear, never to be seen again.”

  He sat up, smirking down at her, letting his words sink in.

  “Wh-what are you going to do?”

  “Welll…” He made a show of cleaning under his perfectly-trimmed fingernails with the back of the sharp, slender knife’s blade. “I had thought to spend the day ‘playing’ with you, here, in Morgan’s own bed. I saw him walking down the street with a lunch pail this morning, so I figure I’ve got all day to have a little fun. But then, he’d see the bed and know instantly what happened. My idea is to make him suffer as much as possible. So I thought that perhaps I’d tie you up and wait for him to come home—then I’d tie him to a chair and make him watch while I play. But even that didn’t seem like it would cut deep enough.”

  He tapped the side of the blade against his palm. “It had me thinking—what is the worst possible thing I could do to Jake Morgan? It didn’t take long to figure out. I overheard him talking to Archer about his first wife once, and it seemed to affect him deeply. That’s why I gave you the bouquet—did you like them? I know women adore such trifles. It amazes me how little it takes to get a woman to yield to me—a few pretty words, a few trinkets, and they are putty in my very skilled hands.” He winked at her.

  Lilly’s skin crawled, but she said nothing.

  “I later overheard him talking to Dr. Archer, and I knew I’d really rattled him. So after giving it all some thought, I realized that the worst possible thing that could happen isn’t for him to watch you suffer—although that would be fun, too. No, the worst thing would be for you to abandon him for another man, just like his first wife did. So…” He leaned over her, making her cringe. “You and I will take a little trip. Somewhere more...private. Where I can play with you…” he traced the knife lightly down her bodice “…at my leisure.”

  She was afraid to breathe, with the knife so close to her heart. Panic thrummed through her body, but she forced herself to remain still, biting her tongue painfully to prevent the scream that tried to tear its way out of her.

  He sat up, smiling down at her. The handsome grin would have been attractive, had it not been so thoroughly chilling. “And when your dear, devoted husband—who seems to trust you about as far as he can throw you—comes home from a hard day’s toil, filthy from head to toe and eager for his supper, he will find an empty house. You’ll be gone, without a trace, without a note. All your belongings. Gone.”

  “No!” she cried, fighting against her bonds. She wouldn’t let Foyle hurt Jake like that. She couldn’t! She opened her mouth to scream, but Foyle’s hand covered it before she’d finished sucking in a breath. She kicked and flailed, fighting with every ounce of strength she had…until Foyle backhanded her, then grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back, revealing the fragile flesh of her neck. Lilly could feel the steel of his gleaming knife pressed against her heated skin.

  “If you like, I can finish you off now, and leave your bloody corpse for Morgan to find.”

  She stopped struggling, though she wondered if that would, indeed be the better option. Better he should find me dead, than think I left him. But no—she owed it to her unborn child to try to live through the nightmare, so she could survive—so her baby would have a chance at life. She stopped fighting, and capitulated.

  Just as she had for Theodore Bennett. She felt sick.

  “That’s a good girl.” He patted her on the leg. “Now I’ll have to administer another dose of chloroform, to ensure you don’t lose your head and try to scream when we leave. But I warn you now, if you should come to on the road, we’ll be well out of Helena by then, and if you scream, I’ll have to give you another dose. You don’t want that. It’s very difficult to estimate the correct dosage without a chloroform apparatus—which, of course, Archer’s backwater clinic doesn’t have. Actually, I was shocked he even had the chloroform,” Foyle complained. “But regardless—if I have to keep dosing you, without an accurate way to control the doses, you’ll very likely end up dead. In fact, I’m not entirely sure you won’t die from this next dose,” he chuckled, “though I assure you I’ll do my best to prevent that from happening. Fortunately for you, I’m a very skilled doctor.”

  Foyle rose from the bed, reached over to the dresser, and brought back a small bottle and the cloth.

  “Please…don’t.” Lilly was terrified of what might happen while she was unconscious. “I’ll stay quiet, I promise—”

  “Your promises mean nothing to me,” he spat. “Now hold still and cooperate unless you want me to accidentally overdose you…and kill your unborn child in the process.”

  The man had a knack for finding weaknesses and exploiting them.

  A moment later he held the cloth over her nose and mouth once again. The room spun, then the world faded away…

  Chapter 27

  His heart beat wildly as he ran as fast as he could down the middle of Main Street. He dodged around wagons and men on horseback. Irate drivers cursed at him for spooking their horses, but Jake paid no mind, and kept on going.

  His gut told him Lilly was in danger. He’d never been so sure of anything in his life. His chest ached as his lungs tried to pull in enough air to keep him going while he sprinted through town.

  He was almost there…almost to the corner. He tore down the side street to the back alley so fast, he almost lost his balance and tripped. When he reached the gate, he was shaking so much he couldn’t ope
n the latch for a few seconds. Nothing appeared amiss. The door was closed, the house as quiet as it usually was when he came home.

  “Lilly?” he called as the gate opened at last, and he sprinted up the walk. He dug into his pocket for the key with one hand, while he tried the door with the other. The knob turned, and the door swung open.

  Why isn’t it locked? Has she gone out?

  He stepped inside. There was no scent of baked goods or anything else on the cookstove. But then, she might have chosen to make an easy, cold meal on such a hot day. He closed the door behind him.

  “Lilly?”

  Nothing was out of place. He glanced around the kitchen—not even a glass drying on the drainboard. The parlor was the same—nothing amiss there, either. But something was off. Something he couldn’t place.

  He walked on, into the bedroom. That was when it hit him.

  All Lilly’s things were gone.

  The silver-handled brush and mirror were missing from the dresser top, her Bible was gone from the bedside table…

  “No,” he whispered. Rushing to the closet, he pulled it open.

  There were bare hooks where her dresses and bonnets should be. On the upper shelf of the closet, her valise was missing.

  “No!”

  He spun around and went to the dresser, pulling open drawer after drawer. The top two was empty, and the bottom two held only his own garments. Jake slammed the last drawer shut, running his hands through his hair.

  “No…no, no, no no!” It wasn’t happening again…it couldn’t be happening to him again! Why would she leave? They had been getting along so well. Was she still secretly angry over the flower incident? He knew she was disappointed that he’d asked her to stay home during the morning, especially after he’d promised her last night he wouldn’t keep her at home…but surely it wasn’t enough to send her packing. Was it?

  He went over every word they’d said to each other. Was I being unreasonable? I was just worried about her. Does she resent the loss of her freedom? Sadie sure seemed eager to have her freedom back, when she left him.

  Did he feel like he was controlling her? He remembered her making a comment about how much Clay Porter was driving his wife mad with his overprotectiveness—was his own fretting driving Lilly mad, as well? Or maybe she was upset about Sadie. She wasn’t happy when he had called her “my Sadie.” Or maybe she just feel unsafe in Helena. Could she have just gone home?

  Then he shook his head—Foyle! He had nearly forgotten about Foyle. Could Foyle have done something to Lilly? Or had he lured her from the house? But that didn’t make sense—Lilly would never be tricked into packing her things and leaving without so much as a note to him. Even Sadie had left a note when she left.

  But then, he’d gone after Sadie. Maybe Lilly didn’t want him to track her down—maybe she didn’t want to give him hope, by leaving a note, as if she cared about him at all. Maybe she made her leaving more cruel than necessary, to dissuade him from having any hope of reconciliation?

  Then he remembered the perfume on Foyle’s coat. Maybe he was too quick to assume it was spilled on the coat. If it was transferred in an embrace, shortly after Lilly had put it on, the scent could have been strong. It could have clung to his coat. Perhaps they’d had a tryst on the day of the break-in, followed by a lover’s quarrel. Could that have been the cause of the breakage in the apartment? It would explain how someone had gotten in without needing to break a window—Lilly let him in. And then perhaps he left, and she ran after him, and planned to come back home to clean up the mess before Jake arrived…only to be surprised by Jake coming home early.

  He shuddered, imagining the handsome young doctor taking Lilly into her arms. Embracing her, stroking her hair, his coat somehow brushing against her bare skin, picking up her scent…

  His stomach roiled. How could she have done this to him? And in such a cruel way?

  Jake stalked out to the parlor, kicking over a chair. He panted with rage, his shoulders heaving. Then his knees gave out, and he sank to the floor, covering his face with his hands.

  Sobs wracked his body, the pain unbearable. I never should have trusted another woman. Never. What good are the promises of a woman? Sooner or later, every promise is broken, every word a lie…

  He leaned forward, trying to catch his breath as despair squeezed the air from his lungs. His forehead touched the smooth wood floor, a few degrees cooler than the stifling air around him. It was a welcome relief.

  Wait…

  Where is the rug? He sat up, looking around. The Oriental rug was gone.

  “What the—?” Then he noticed the bookshelf. He spied the few favorite volumes that Lilly had brought with her to Montana, mixed in with his own small selection of books.

  Why would a woman lug heavy books all the way to Montana, only to leave them behind when she ran off?

  He thought again how there was no note left behind—and contrasted that with Lilly’s sweet demeanor, even when he lost his temper with her. Lilly wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t leave me, and if she did, she would leave a note. She wouldn’t leave me to worry.

  Then he looked at the floor again. Why would Lilly take the rug? Even Sadie hadn’t taken the rug with her when she left, and she had been the one to pick it out. Lilly had never expressed a particular fondness of it. Besides, even rolled up, it would be heavy and awkward, and she’d need a wagon to transport it. Surely she hadn’t taken the wagon and horses he needed to make deliveries of larger items he made, like the Crowley fence panels! No, you know she wouldn’t.

  As he glanced around, a glint caught his eye. He crawled over to the settee and peered beneath it. There was something in the shadows. He reached under and picked it up carefully.

  Glass. A long, curved shard…like from a drinking glass.

  Everything fell into place. It’s been staged—the whole thing!

  He dropped the shard and took off running, through the house, out the door, and through the gate he’d left open. He stood in the alley, looking in one direction, then another, unsure of what to do.

  Then a sound pulled his attention to the backyard across the alley. “Mrs. Gregory!” he yelled, running up to her back fence.

  “What on earth has you so riled up, Mr. Morgan?” She left the laundry basket by the line where she’d been hanging clothes, wiping her damp hands on her apron as she approached the fence at a sluggish pace.

  “Mrs. Gregory, have you seen anyone over at my house today? Or did you hear anything unusual?”

  She furrowed her withered brow in thought. “Unusual…like, how?”

  “Anything. Please. Just anything you’ve seen or heard since I left.”

  “Are you talking about the fella that came to pick up your carpet? That’s all I seen. It’s not like I stare at your place all day, you know. But yes, while I was out hanging my first batch of laundry, I saw the young man come by to pick up your carpet. Getting it cleaned, are you? Don’t worry, he was careful with it, if that’s what you’re worried about—laid it down with particular care in the back of his wagon. Though I can’t see as what a dandy like him is doing working for a rug cleaner. Looked more like a fancy rug salesman than a cleaner—”

  “Was he almost my height? But a little on the scrawny side? Dark hair?”

  “Yes, that’s the one. What’s the problem, he pick up the wrong rug?”

  Jake didn’t stay to answer her question. He turned and ran for the barn. His own wagon and horses were where they should be, so Foyle must have brought his own transportation—and Jake knew Foyle hadn’t acquired his own buggy yet. He had to be using something he borrowed from someone—most likely Doc. And a rolled-up carpet wouldn’t fit into a buggy, so it had to be Doc’s wagon.

  Jake saddled up Paca—who was younger and faster than Charley—as fast as he could, with his fingers shaking the whole time, cursing himself for every lost second. But it wouldn’t do to find out where Foyle was, then have to come back for a horse.

  He led Paca out
side and hoisted himself into the saddle, then spurred her with the heels of his boots, taking off without shutting the barn door. Paca snorted with irritation, shaking her head at Jake’s unusually callous treatment of her. He’d have to make it up to her later, because Lilly’s life was at stake.

  Racing down Main Street, he veered Paca around wagons and other men on horseback. More than a few shouted at him, but he ignored them. When he pulled the reins, stopping the horse at Doc’s office, Doc himself was tacking a note to the door and locking up the office.

  “I was coming to look for you,” he called. “Did you—?”

  “She’s missing, Doc.” He hopped down, holding Paca by the reins. “Where is Foyle?”

  “Are you sure she’s not just out visiting—?”

  “Yes, I’m sure! I don’t have time to explain. Just trust me, Doc. Now, where is Foyle? He’s using your wagon now, isn’t he?” He jerked on the reins without thinking, causing Paca to stomp fretfully.

  Archer looked surprised. “Yes, he came in this morning, asked if he could use my cabin for his day off. I don’t mind letting the boy use it once in a while, because it’s important for a doctor to get some rest and relaxation if he wants to keep his mind sharp—”

  “Doc!” Jake flailed an arm in irritation. Doc always did like to ramble a bit—and even more so when he was nervous. But Jake didn’t have time for that.

  “Sorry, sorry,” the older man nodded. “He’s probably up at the cabin now. He asked to borrow my wagon—the one I save for transferring patients to the hospital and such—so he could bring some supplies up there. Said he’d spend part of the time building some proper steps for me, as his way of thanking me for all I’ve done for him.”

  “Oh, no...” Fear flooded Jake’s heart. “He took her in your wagon. The rug is missing from my house. Neighbor said she saw a man matching Foyle’s description loading my rolled-up rug into a wagon. She thought he was taking it to be cleaned.”