Her Fearless Love_Seeing Ranch Mail Order Bride

by Florence Linnington

  He scratched his beard. “I never needed a wife. More trouble than they’re worth, really.”

  “Hmm,” Bonnie murmured, feigning interest. The man had essentially inappropriately ‘complimented’ her at one moment and then insulted her gender at the next.

  If nothing else, he was certainly an entertaining, although annoying, drunk.

  “You don’t work at the mine, do you?” Bonnie asked. “Why come here?”

  Mr. Percy blinked fast, and Bonnie wondered if she had asked too much too soon. Did he know what she was up to?

  “I got plans,” he said. “Gonna build a boarding house.”

  “Oh, that does sound nice.”

  He took a long drink of his whiskey. How intoxicated was he? If Bonnie had drunk five shots of vodka and half a tumbler of whiskey, she imagined she would not be able to talk or walk straight. It appeared Mr. Percy had quite the tolerance, though.

  “Will there be any jobs for women there?” Bonnie asked. “Just in case things do... do not go well with my fiancée.” She looked down at her lap again.

  “I imagine I’ll be needing a housekeeper and cook. It’ll be a men’s boarding house, though. I don’t much see you as being up to the job.”

  “I have worked before.” Bonnie looked up. “I was a seamstress back east.”

  “Working around other ladies.” Mr. Percy chuckled. “Working around men is different. Besides, I won’t be opening for a while.”

  “And why is that?”

  He dug through his thick beard to scratch his jowl. “Need the land first. Gotta have somewhere to build. Dang prices down here in town are like a train robbery.”

  “I am sorry to hear that. Could you not build it somewhere out of town?”

  He scoffed. “This land down here is the best on the mountain. Hardly any place can beat it.”

  What about the Hawkins’ land?

  Bonnie held the question back. She did not want to be too obvious. And perhaps Mr. Percy would have another drink, and then she could take the next step in the interrogation.

  Bonnie glanced over her shoulder and briefly caught gazes with Noah. His face was impassive as he dusted a liquor bottle.

  “You came here as one of them mail-order brides?” Mr. Percy asked. “Didn’t you?”

  “Yes, sir. I did.”

  He chuckled. “That’s right interesting. Brides through the mail. Maybe I should get me one. How much do one of you costs?”

  “Nothing,” Bonnie answered.

  “There has to be some kind of money involved.”

  Bonnie’s face grew hot. “I believe the future husband pays a small fee to the agency for their services,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Small fee... Huh... You know how much?” Mr. Percy drained his whiskey.

  “No, sir, I do not.”

  “Percy?” Noah called across the saloon.

  Mr. Percy shook his empty glass, and Noah brought the whiskey bottle over to fill him back up.

  Bonnie searched through every crevice in her head, looking for the right thing to say. How could she get Mr. Percy to open up and talk about the Hawkins’ land without making her own goal obvious?

  And then she understood. Perhaps she was going about this all the wrong way. Perhaps she needed to appeal to a different side of Mr. Percy.

  “I must admit,” Bonnie choked out, “it is very nice to speak with you. I have been so... lonely since Steve was taken in.”

  Mr. Percy nodded in understanding. His face had turned red. Was that a sign of the alcohol’s effects?

  Bonnie went on. “It makes me so angry, thinking about Steve being down there in that cell. He did not kill Mr. Hawkins. I know it.”

  Mr. Percy shrugged as if to say, Who knows?

  Angry tears sprang to Bonnie’s eyes. She wanted to scream at Mr. Percy for his indifference, but she held back. Instead, she channeled all of her fury and pain into her next words.

  “It makes me so angry sometimes that I want to destroy something,” Bonnie whispered through her teeth. “Do something bad. Even... hurt someone.”

  She shook her head. “Forgive me. I know that is an awful thing to say.”

  Bonnie held her breath, waiting for his response. She wanted him to agree that people sometimes did awful things when angry. If he did, perhaps she could slowly work her way into getting him to admit he had killed Mr. Hawkins.

  “Aw, now, that’s all right,” Mr Percy said. “We all feel that way sometimes.”

  “Have you? Have you ever been so angry at life’s injustices that you feared you were capable of doing something horrible?”

  Mr. Percy’s gaze drifted up to the ceiling, and silence entered the saloon. Bonnie reminded herself to breathe. Behind her, glasses clinked as Noah cleaned the bar. She knew he was only feigning work, though. Really, he listened in on the conversation as best as he could.

  “I don’t know about that,” Mr. Percy said, his hazy eyes turning to Bonnie. “But I been right mad, sure.”

  He slurped down the last of his whiskey, tilted his head, narrowed his eyes, and inspected Bonnie. “Tell you what. You’re still here come the time I open my boarding house, and we’ll see about a job there for you. Would you like that?”

  Mr. Percy dug in his pocket for some coins and set them down on the table. Bonnie swallowed against a lump in her throat. Was this conversation over, then?

  “That... that sounds nice,” she said. “Thank you.”

  Mr. Percy nodded in satisfaction and stood. He swayed the slightest bit with his first two steps, but after that, he found his footing and walked out of the saloon.

  Yes. That had been that. The conversation had ended, and Bonnie had achieved nothing.

  37

  37. Bonnie

  Chapter thirty-seven

  Bonnie stared into her soup bowl. She’d managed to put down a few bites. She knew she needed food, but the hollow pit in her stomach distracted her from any hunger that might have been there.

  “She did real good,” Noah said. “Amazing. Really had Percy believing everything she said.”

  Bonnie smiled weakly at him. They were seated at one of the hotel’s round tables with Wakefield and Neil. The restaurant had closed an hour before, and the four of them had convened to talk about everything.

  “Thank you, Noah,” Bonnie said. “But, unfortunately, acting skills did not achieve what I’d hoped they would.”

  Neil and Wakefield exchanged a solemn glance, and Bonnie put her soup spoon down with a sigh.

  “We still have no evidence,” she said. “Perhaps Mr. Percy is innocent.”

  “And maybe he’s not,” Noah said.

  “But we still know nothing,” Wakefield grumbled.

  They sat in that knowledge for a minute, stewing in the possibility of defeat.

  But, no. This could not be over. There was still a chance. Mr. Percy could be guilty. Or Margaret could be guilty.

  Bonnie had to be missing something. Some kind of important clue that would bring her closer to the killer. The Folsom bullet had been such a miraculous find. Bonnie felt God had put it in her path, and that He was helping her to solve this mystery. Surely He would not abandon her now?

  “Is Percy going to keep pushing Margaret to sell the land?” Neil asked. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

  “But he could wait weeks to speak with her again,” Bonnie inserted. “As she is in Pathways. And it will be too late by then. Steve’s trial will have passed. He will...”

  The next words died before they reached her tongue. Where would Steve be? Locked up in a larger jail in Cheyenne? Dead from the hangman’s noose?

  Bonnie pressed her lips together. She wanted to shake her fist at the sky and curse the entire world.

  “We’ll keep an eye on Percy,” Wakefield said. “There’s nothing more that we can do. Other than show up to Steve’s trial and speak our minds.”

  Bonnie looked around the table, from Wakefield to Noah, to Neil. With each solemn face,
she took in, the aching inside of her grew. She waited for Noah or Neil to say something, to disagree with Wakefield and say that, yes, there was more they could do.

  But neither of them said anything.

  Bonnie opened her mouth, gasping for air. “This is it, then? We are finished.”

  Neil winced. “Don’t call it finished, Bonnie. That’s not what’s going on here. We’re still trying.”

  “Are we?” Bonnie cried.

  Just as abruptly as it had come, her temper faded. She closed her eyes and breathed deep. Losing control of her emotions would do no one any good.

  “I am sorry,” she said, as she opened her eyes and looked at them each in turn. “I am not in the best state right now.”

  “We understand,” Wakefield said.

  “But I do know we cannot give up,” Bonnie rushed to point out. “Steve would not give up on any of us.”

  “We’re not giving up,” Noah said. “But we have to...” His face pinched, and he looked away.

  “Have to what?” Bonnie asked. “Prepare ourselves for the worst?”

  No one said a word, and that was all the answer she needed. Bonnie looked at her lap, where her fingers were so tightly laced they’d turned white.

  “We’ll keep an eye on Percy,” Wakefield said. “And I’ll send a message to Sheriff Ross tomorrow about our suspicions. It could be he’s already had similar thoughts about Percy, or what we know will jiggle loose something in his memory.”

  Bonnie nodded, her head heavy, and everyone stood. As she went to the front door with Neil, he turned to face her.

  “You’re staying here tonight,” he said. “I can go to your cabin in the morning and fetch you whatever you need.”

  “What?” Bonnie stared at Neil. Wakefield had escorted her home earlier that afternoon so she could retrieve her purse and bonnet, but she had not given any more thought to Neil’s request that she take up a room in town or at someone’s home.

  “It’s already been arranged,” Wakefield told her from across the room. “For as long as you need. And you won’t be paying.”

  “Thank you,” Bonnie said, “but I cannot impose on you.”

  “It’s not imposing,” Wakefield answered. “And it’s already settled. It’s not safe for you at that cabin all by yourself.”

  Bonnie hesitated. Wakefield could not allow her to stay in the hotel for free forever. But just how long until they felt there was no danger in Whiteridge? After Steve was released from jail... or convicted of murder? Once the killer thought they no longer had a chance of discovery and so decided there was no need to dispose of Bonnie?

  “We are close,” Bonnie said.

  The men looked at her.

  “If someone was watching me at home,” Bonnie said, “it means they are afraid. They know that we are close to finding them out.”

  Noah nodded eagerly. “That’s right. It could be the answer to all of this is right under our noses.”

  Wakefield rubbed his eyes and sighed. “Could be. Let’s talk again tomorrow. Until then, rest is what we all need.”

  He directed his gaze at Bonnie, and she knew he was right. It was a wonder she still managed to walk and talk, given how little sleep she had been getting.

  “I’ll show you to your room,” Wakefield told Bonnie. “If you need anything before I return in the morning, you know the cook? She’ll get it for you.”

  “Thank you,” Bonnie said with a numb tongue. The older couple who ran the hotel when Wakefield was not there was very nice. They lived in some rooms on the hotel’s second floor. At least she would not be alone in the hotel.

  Noah and Neil bid goodnight, and Wakefield took Bonnie to a room at the top of the stairs.

  “You’ll be safe here,” he promised her. “We have two guests staying in the hotel right now, so there are people around you.” He paused. “Still... lock your door.”

  Bonnie nodded. “Thank you.”

  Wakefield left, and Bonnie sat on the edge of the bed. The clock next to the washbasin ticked, and wind blew against the window panes.

  Bonnie stared at the floorboards. She had truly believed Mr. Percy would release some kind of valuable information. And yet here they were, with no concrete evidence whatsoever.

  It didn’t matter if the others had given up hope. Bonnie would not do so until the day she died. Plan or not, she had to take action.

  She stood and went to the door and listened for sounds. There were footsteps below, and then the front door closed. Bonnie counted slowly to one hundred and then slipped out of the room and headed out into the dark night.

  38

  38. Bonnie

  Chapter thirty-eight

  Slowly. Softly.

  Bonnie repeated the words to herself as she crept along the road. Some leaves rustled, and she froze, cocking her head and listening for more noises. The sound of an animal digging claws into bark brought her breath back.

  An opossum. Or a squirrel.

  The important thing was, it was not a human. Bonnie was not being followed. At least, she did not think so.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, she continued the trek up the road. Steve’s revolver rested in her jacket pocket, and it bumped against her thigh as she walked. She hoped she would not need to use it.

  Indeed, if she did need to use it, it was unlikely her bullet would hit its mark. She felt better with the revolver on her, though. It provided at least one layer of protection. Plus, it belonged to Steve and having something of his brought her comfort.

  At the Hawkins’ property, Bonnie stopped. The cabin sat cold and dark, one of its previous occupants dead and the other having moved on to a new life. The sound of the trickling of the creek carried across the yard.

  Continuing forward on the road, past the Hawkins’, Bonnie kept closer to the woods. Like every other scheme she’d concocted to free Steve, this one was very loose. She had no plan in place. All Bonnie knew was that she wanted to watch Mr. Percy’s house and see if he left it at night, and, if so, where he went to.

  The hope was that he would go and take another look at the Hawkins’ land. She wasn’t sure what it would prove, other than he still coveted the land.

  Bonnie compared it to the way she’d felt about a certain pair of gloves before coming out West. She’d gone to the shop window they were in every day after work for a whole week, looking at the gloves and trying to decide whether or not to exchange some of her limited spending money on them.

  In the end, she’d waited too long, and someone else had bought the gloves.

  She did not think Mr. Percy would allow the same thing to happen with the Hawkins’ land.

  Alternatively, once Mr. Percy left his house, Bonnie could sneak into it and see if he had a Folsom there. She knew going into someone’s home without their knowledge was highly dangerous, immoral, not to mention illegal. But, Bonnie had little options left.

  Flickering light came into view, and Bonnie scooted behind a tree. Keeping close to its trunk, she peered around its side. The light was coming from Mr. Percy’s cabin. Apparently, his binge at the saloon had not been enough to send him to bed early.

  Feeling her way around the tree, Bonnie walked around to the other side of the trunk. Between it and Mr. Percy’s yard was a thick bush. Perfect for coverage.

  Settling down with her back against the trunk, Bonnie found a semi-comfortable seat between the tree’s roots. She could see Mr. Percy’s window through the bush, and if she squinted hard enough, she could make out his dark front door.

  Now, if he left, she would see him.

  And if he did not go anywhere all night long, then she would be there in the morning. It would be harder to go undetected in this spot come light, though, so she would have to find a spot with more foliage come dawn.

  What did Mr. Percy do all day? That was what Bonnie needed to know. He appeared to have no job and no family. Did he mosey around all morning and afternoon, waiting for four o’clock so he could go to the saloon? And where did
he get all of the money he drank away?

  Bonnie pulled her jacket’s collar up to protect her neck and crossed her arms over her chest for warmth. The temperature had dropped since she’d set out from the hotel, and if it continued to do so, she would be shivering in no time.

  At least the cold would keep her awake.