by Sandra Kopp
Melinda sat frozen, too horrified to move as cold realization concerning the implications to herself soaked in. Philip Schiff’s death left Marna a widow, and now only Melinda stood between Eldor and his heart’s desire. Despite the muggy heat she felt cold as ice. Crushing despair rendered her oblivious to the rivulets of sweat stinging her eyes and the red ants now swarming over her arms and neck.
A vicious bite to her cheek jarred her back to her senses. Melinda slapped the offending insect and then stifled a gasp. Someone might have heard, and she gritted her teeth while listening intently for a moment. Hearing nothing, she crawled backward out of the undergrowth, brushed herself off and stole back to her horse.
For the rest of the afternoon she huddled beneath the hedge, terrified that Eldor or one of his party might happen along and, hoping against hope that, if they did, Meg would not nicker and disclose her presence. Eldor’s fury the previous day would pale in comparison to what he would do now.
Toward evening she rose and, leading Meg, picked her way through the brush and rocks to the wash. With bated breath she pulled aside the branches and peeked through. The men had not returned. Melinda followed the wash to where the bank was less steep and crossed over but, finding herself in a clearing, took cover again and waited for nightfall.
Well after sunset she ventured forth, and after a cautious look around, led Meg into the clearing and mounted. Urgent to get home, the horse immediately tried to run, but Melinda held her to a trot. Her heart pounded and her parched throat felt as though full of dust. Philip’s terrible visage burned into her brain as she rode through the darkness without even the moon for light, praying she would not encounter Eldor and that this unfamiliar road would quickly lead her home.
Wyar herdsmen did not kill Philip Schiff! The thought of who might have sickened her.
Meg snorted, pranced, and crowhopped. She suddenly reared, hopping forward on her hind legs as she fought to break free. Melinda, already drained by the day’s grisly events, possessed little strength to control her. If Eldor lurked nearby he would hear the horse’s petulant puffing before Melinda sensed his presence. Meg knew her way home—and a faster gait might save them both. Melinda gave Meg her head and hung on.
The horse thundered down the road, her nimble legs devouring the miles. After some distance she bounded off the road into a field of ripened grain. Dry stems snapped around them and Melinda prayed they had not entered one of Eldor’s fields.
After what seemed an eternity they reached the other side. Meg slowed a little, ears erect as she peered ahead. Without warning, she gathered her legs and jumped, clearing a low hedge bordering the field and nearly unseating Melinda who, as she fell, managed to grab a handful of mane and cling to Meg’s side as the horse again broke into a gallop.
Something hard glanced off Melinda’s shoulder as Meg dodged an object in her path. Moaning, she tried to haul herself onto the horse’s back again, but the cinch had loosened and she succeeded only in pulling the saddle partway down Meg’s side. The horse swerved again, and Melinda tightened her grasp and hung on for dear life. Meg slid to a stop and veered left, but immediately whirled to the right and froze, tense and quivering as she punctuated the air with loud snorts.
“Who’s there?” a man’s deep voice thundered.
Meg reared straight up. Melinda lost her hold and fell, grunting as the impact with the hard-packed ground jarred the wind from her. Meg tried to bolt, but a large hand seized the reins just under her chin and held her fast.
“Whoa! Easy now.” A pause. “Meg! What are you doing here? Melinda? Are you here? It’s me, Braun.”
Sobbing with relief, Melinda struggled to her feet. Braun Topyl swept to her side and wrapped a comforting arm around her shaking shoulders. “Melinda! What happened?”
“Oh, Braun! I have to get home.”
“I’ll not send you off in this condition. Come, let me take you inside.”
Braun righted the saddle, lifted Melinda into it, and led Meg to the house. Luwanna, clad in a nightgown, stood in the doorway. Seeing Melinda’s bedraggled state, she gasped and put a hand to her mouth.
Braun tied Meg to the fence while Melinda alit. “Go into the house,” he told her. “I’ll see to the horse.”
Melinda numbly obeyed. Luwanna ushered her to the kitchen table and poured her a cup of tea. “Here, drink this.” She sat down opposite Melinda, regarding her anxiously. “You are so pale.”
Melinda nodded her thanks and sipped the tea. Only then did she notice the scratches and ant bites on her arms and the bits of leaves and twigs stuck to her clothes and hair.
Braun entered the kitchen and sat down beside Luwanna.
“I am so sorry about your field,” Melinda quavered.
“Never mind the field. We are concerned for you. You are lucky to have suffered only scratches. You might have been killed the way that horse tore through here.”
Luwanna reached over and laid her hand on Melinda’s. “Please, tell us what happened. You look like the devil himself attacked you.”
Melinda moistened her lips. “Have you heard about Philip Schiff?”
They exchanged glances and shook their heads. “No,” Braun said.
Melinda set down her cup. “I had heard rumors about Eldor building a house in the foothills as a surprise for me.” She managed a trembling smile. “Can you imagine?” Teary-eyed, she paused to collect herself and then continued, “Just yesterday he acted like he hates me. But Gilda Rainer said he has praised my work and looks forward to a family and now. . .is building. . .” Melinda stopped and took another sip.
“This morning I decided to look for this house. I think I found it, but barely got a good look before someone on horseback raced up to it, shouting and waving. Two men left then—the one horse looked like Eldor’s—and I followed at a distance to a gully full of brush. Hearing voices, I hid in the bushes where I could watch. Eldor and his father were there with Marna and a man named Angyar. Two other men I’ve never seen before carried a body out of the ditch.” Her voice broke. “It was Philip.”
Her hosts gasped. “Dead?” Braun asked.
Melinda nodded. “One of the men said Philip had been stabbed with a pitchfork at least a dozen times and that his throat had been cut.” She swallowed. “I saw, too, the bone sticking out through the flesh on one arm.”
Luwanna paled. “Oh, Melinda! What did you do then?”
“I waited until everyone left, but feared to leave myself because I don’t know that country and didn’t want anyone, especially Eldor, to see me. So I waited for nightfall and then decided to let the horse find our way home. That’s how we ended up in your field,” she finished ruefully.
“I’m sure there’s no harm done.” Braun stared at the table. “Do they know who killed Philip?”
“Eldor’s father blames the Wyars.”
Braun vehemently shook his head. “Wyars are the last people who would harm Philip.”
“Then who—” Luwanna began, but her husband’s sharp look silenced her.
The three exchanged glances and then Melinda rested her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Melinda awoke in an unfamiliar room. At first she could not remember where she was, but Luwanna’s voice coming from outside resurrected the gruesome images from the previous day and reminded her that she had spent the night with the Topyl’s.
Melinda sat up. Her clothing, freshly washed and ironed, hung on the door. She rose and dressed, combed her hair, then went to the kitchen.
“Good morning.” Luwanna finished wiping the table and laid the towel aside. “You look much better. Here, let me get you some breakfast.”
Melinda glanced out the window. “It’s late. You should have woke me.”
“You needed the sleep.” Luwanna poured tea and then took a pot of ham and potatoes off the fire. She spooned a generous helping onto a plate and placed it in front of Melinda, who thanked her and began eating.
Braun dashed back outside. Luwanna bolted to the bedroom, donned a robe and climbed into bed. As calmly as she could manage, Melinda rose and began gathering the dishes.
Pounding hoofbeats thundered up to the fence. “Melinda!” Eldor bellowed. “Have you seen Melinda?”
Braun’s voice answered. Melinda piled the dishes on the cupboard and reached for a washcloth, hoping she appeared nonchalant.
The door flew open. Eldor pushed past Braun and entered the kitchen. “Melinda!”
Melinda turned, her eyes wide and innocent. “I’m here, Eldor.”
Relief softened Eldor’s taut face and relaxed his shoulders. “Thank heaven! I feared some harm had befallen you. But why aren’t you home? What are you doing here?”
Melinda feigned surprise. “I came over yesterday to see Luwanna. She wasn’t feeling well and had so much work that I stayed to help. By evening she was really sick, so I spent the night.”
“Oh?” Eldor regarded her narrowly. “How is she now?”
Melinda and Braun exchanged glances. “Much better,” Braun answered.
Melinda turned to Eldor and cocked her head. “Is something wrong?”
Eldor’s chest heaved as he leaned his hand on the back of a chair. “A man was killed in the foothills. Philip’s man, Angyar found him yesterday. We don’t know who did this or why. The sheriff’s investigating now.”
Melinda gasped.
“Who was it?” Braun asked.
Eldor shook his head. “’Twas hard to tell, he was so beat up.” He looked at Melinda. “When I came home and found you gone—” His voice broke. Impulsively he circled the table, caught Melinda in a warm embrace, and buried his face in her hair. “I feared the worst,” he murmured.
Taken aback, Melinda stood speechless, her arms hanging at her sides. But as Eldor tightened his hold and caressed her shoulder she slowly slid them around his waist and snuggled into his chest.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “But you’re there so seldom—” she looked into his face—“I didn’t think you’d notice.”
Eldor sighed and slowly released her. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but paused and glanced at Braun, who watched intently from across the room. “Come outside with me,” he whispered and, putting a hand on her arm, guided her to the door. Melinda cast an apprehensive glance toward Braun as she plodded outside.
A few steps from the house Eldor stopped and turned her to face him. “You really should have left a note, even if I am seldom home. Should something happen—like yesterday—I’d have no idea whether you’d been taken or had left on your own. I wouldn’t even know where to start looking. I only came up here because Topyl’s are nearby and because you are friends, and I hoped they might know where you were.” He paused and then continued, “Now do you see why I didn’t want you up there?”
“But you never gave a reason, and if I’m with you—” Daunted by his probing stare, Melinda hung her head. “I’m truly sorry, Eldor,” she said quietly.
Yet you’re building a house up there!
“Why did you feel you had to stay here last night?” Eldor queried.
“Luwanna was terribly sick. We feared for the baby and I thought that, if she required the doctor, Braun might need my help.”
Eldor’s mouth tightened. “Braun cannot care for his own wife?”
“Luwanna’s my friend,” Melinda cut in. “I like her and enjoy her company. She would do as much for me, and I would appreciate her help, were I in her state. And, like you once did, Braun attends to his fields alone and can’t be with her all the time. You, of all people, should understand that.”
Eldor managed a rueful smile. “Ah, yes,” he murmured. “Very well, Melinda. Your explanation makes sense and I accept it.” He sobered. “Considering the circumstances, you may stay here a few days if you wish.” He caught sight of Melinda’s scratched and reddened arms and stopped abruptly. “What the devil happened to your arms?”
Feverishly Melinda groped for an answer. “I was picking raspberries. The best ones, of course, are toward the middle of the patch. Unfortunately, the ants know that, too, so we competed.”
Eldor smiled wryly. “And you got bested, by the looks of it.”
“I wouldn’t say that. I got the berries.”
“But the ants got your hide.” Still smiling, Eldor shook his head. “Anyway, as I started to say, we’ll harvest the field across the road from the house next week. I’ll need you home then.”
“I’ll be there.” Melinda searched his face. “Are you still angry with me, Eldor? Do you hate me?”
Eldor regarded her tenderly and then, to Melinda’s surprise, gathered her into his arms again and kissed her. “Oh, no, no, no,” he whispered. “I’ve never hated you. It’s just—some of the things I have to deal with. You’re very precious to me, Melinda.” He gazed at her a moment and then kissed her again. “Now tell me when you’ll be there so I know not to worry.”
Melinda melted. “I can be home today if you want.”
Eldor thought a moment. “Actually, next week might be best—again, considering what happened. Come home on Monday, unless I tell you differently.” He kissed her once more. “Farewell for now.”
“Farewell, Eldor. Be safe.”
Eldor released her and walked to his horse, paused, and said, “The yard really is beautiful, Melinda. Well done.”
A tear welled up and spilled down her cheek. “Thank you.”
Eldor mounted and smiled down at her. Chirruping to his horse then, he galloped away.
Melinda floated into the house. Braun and Luwanna stood by the window, their faces filled with concern.
“What did he say?” Braun demanded.
Melinda poured out her story. As she finished, she managed a shaky laugh. “He must be concerned, for he called me ‘Melinda’ today. Usually I’m ‘Medella’.”
Braun and Luwanna stared, aghast. “Does he really call you that?” Luwanna whispered.
Melinda nodded. “A pet name, I suppose.”
“When did he start that?” Braun demanded.
“At the church the day we married. Why? What does ‘Medella’ mean?”
“N-Nothing.” Braun absently brushed the question aside. “But, Melinda, be careful. This situation uneases me.”
“You shouldn’t stay alone,” Luwanna put in.
“You have both shown such kindness. I’ll not burden you further.”
“You are no burden. You’re our friend.” Braun nervously rubbed his neck. “Melinda, did you recognize the corpse? Was it really Philip?”
“Yes. He was bloody, but still easily recognized.” A puzzled frown furrowed Melinda’s brow. “Why did Eldor—”
“That bothers me,” Braun broke in. “You say Eldor was there. If you recognized Philip, surely he did, too. Why would he lie?”
“Might the sheriff not want this known?” Luwanna wondered.
“I doubt the sheriff even knows yet.” Braun looked squarely at Melinda. “Last time you saw Eldor you thought he hated you. Today he lavishes you with kisses.” He hesitated. “Forgive me. I hope I am mistaken, but I fear Eldor meant only to impress Luwanna and me with his affectionate display.”
Melinda’s eyes welled. “You think he didn’t mean it.”
“I know you yearn for his love. But I sense danger. Stay with us this week and let’s see what unfolds.”
Melinda nodded. “All right.”
Eldor galloped down the cobblestone street. A small frame building across from Flanders Inn bore a neatly-carved sign that read, “Sheriff.” Eldor reined his horse in and swung out of the saddle, pausing to greet a passerby before tying the horse to the rail bordering the walk.
Sheriff John Reid, a portly gray-hair
ed man of about fifty, looked up from his desk as Eldor bounded through the door. “Master Rand. What brings you here?”
Eldor held up a hand as he caught his breath. “Nasty business, I’m afraid. Philip Schiff’s been murdered.”
“What?” Reid sat up straighter. “When?”
“I don’t know. Probably a couple of days ago. His man, Angyar, found him yesterday in a gully about a mile from his house, stabbed and his throat cut. Angyar went to my father, who sent him up to get me. In the meantime, Father summoned Jim and Tom McNeil. They headed for the gully where Angyar said he found Philip. Along the way they met Philip’s wife who, according to Father, acted scared and kept repeating that she feared something terrible had happened to Philip.”
Eldor swallowed, his face twisted with emotion. “We all reached the gully at about the same time. Angyar pointed to where he found the body and the McNeils went down and retrieved it.”
“Mistress Schiff saw her husband in that state?”
Eldor grimaced and closed his eyes. He nodded. “Yes.”
The sheriff looked down, shaking his head. “My, oh my. That poor girl. Where is she now?”
“With her sister, Della Tanner.”
“And the body?”
“Dan Schiff requested it. The family has their own cemetery, and Dan didn’t want his son paraded through town.”
The sheriff sighed. “I’ve driven renegade Horse Lords back into Ha-Ran-Fel and served under King Fortius during Ryadok’s war. Seen some mighty terrible things; yet nothing distresses me more than the brutal murder of one of Teptiel’s own sons. Who would do such a thing?”
“I think I know.”
The sheriff motioned to a chair near his desk. “Tell me.”
Eldor sat down, rested his arms on the desk, and folded his hands. “I believe one or possibly two Wyar herders killed Philip.”
The sheriff raised an eyebrow. “Why do you suspect them? From what I’ve heard, the Wyars hold the Schiffs in high regard.”
“Not all of the Wyars knew Philip well and not all of them left the Schiffs’ employ on favorable terms. One in particular, Pharen, worked for Dan Schiff a little over a year ago. They didn’t get along and even came to blows. Rumor says that after one fight Pharen turned around and beat Philip. Shortly after, Pharen entered my employ, but had I known what he did at the Schiff’s I would never have accepted him.”