"I never realized how self-serving you really are. If it’s not too much trouble do you think you can take me to see Cal and Rilla in the morning? I think I would feel much more comfortable staying with them."
"Do you really find me so detestable?"
"I didn't say anything like that. But you must realize, as a single woman I can’t stay here on my own with you. I’d be lain to ruin."
"You wouldn’t if you married me."
"Clarkson, I don't understand this great need of yours to get you a wife. Your fiancée has just left. You need time to grieve her absence. Proposing to me so soon after has to be a rebound reaction, and I’m sorry, but I must decline."
"Did you say grieve? Why would I grieve? I want to dance from the rafters. Kimberly is with the one she wants to be with, and I’m happy for her as I’m sure she would be happy for us if you would only say yes to me. And by the way, I asked you to marry me long before we knew Kimberly had gone. You're not a rebound anything."
"I'd never say yes to you. I don't even know who you are anymore. I just want to get as far away from you as possible. So if it pleases you, can you see to it that my things are taken to Rilla's in the morning?"
"Yes, if that’s what you really want. Can we at least have dinner together?"
"All right."
"Excellent, come with me I had the housekeeper arrange for a cold supper, something we could serve ourselves. I hope you like it."
During supper Missy got a glimpse of the Clarkson she knew and loved. He was attentive and engaging. Speaking of his plans for the Ponderosa, telling her his brother Cassidy and his son would be coming to stay with him for a while, to help him on the ranch until he knew the ropes.
She was so relaxed with him she’d almost forgotten she asked to leave until he asked her what time she would like to leave. The spell was instantly broken and she felt dead inside. Not wanting the night to end so soon, she'd agreed to adjourn to the library. He asked if he could read to her like he used to, she acquiesced.
As she listened to his voice she could feel her resolve slipping. She was almost tempted to change her mind and it was on the tip of her tongue to do so, but the beautiful Susan came into the room asking if she could interest them in a nightcap. Clarkson’s greeting felt too familiar, his smile a little brighter.
Jealousy ate through to her core.
Ignoring the housekeeper. Missy spat something out before she left the room. She wasn't even sure what it was she'd said.
That night Missy cried herself to sleep. Her stupid pride had made her throw away everything she'd ever wanted, and for what? A life without love, to be a miserable old woman destined for spinsterhood, because she doubted she would ever marry. Nobody else would ever be good enough.
The dawn choir chirped its way through her window beckoning her to welcome the new day and she groaned and covered her head to shut the bird song out. It was as though she'd barely closed her eyes, which felt puffy and grainy. She must look a mess.
She refused to even approach the mirror until she washed her face.
As the dawn sky peeked its way through her curtains she made a decision. She would say yes to Clarkson. She suffered agony last night before convincing herself she wanted to stay. After all wasn't half a loaf better than no bread at all? And she was tired of going to bed hungry.
Maybe Clarkson was right. What could it hurt to find out? She'd better tell him now before she got cold feet.
Missy ran across the hall to Clarkson’s room. She tapped on the door and waited. After a long pause, she knocked again. Still nothing she cracked the door open and peeked inside. His bed was empty and looked to her like it hadn't been slept in. Had he fallen asleep in the library?
She fast footed down the hall, went into the library and turned to stone, filled with a desire to pluck out her eyes.
There they were, the pair of them stretched out on the floor. Susan only wearing the clothes the good Lord made her, and Clarkson right alongside her with his shirt unbuttoned and his belt splayed across the floor.
The room turned a deadly shade of red. A geyser erupted through Missy. The explosion in her brain made her dizzy. She marched over to the drinks cabinet and lifted the jug of water.
"This ought to cool you down." She said and emptied the entire content over Clarkson’s head releasing the glass jug when she done, which went the same way as the water, bouncing off the yelping Clarkson's nugget and shattering on the ground. "Make sure you have a driver ready to take me to Rilla’s house in one hour, and don't ever speak to me again as long as you live, Clarkson Dalton. I never want to see your face again."
Missy marched out of the room and slammed the door behind her.
Chapter 23
Stunned and clueless, Clarkson rubbed the bump growing on his forehead. Had Missy lost her mind? A sound to the left of him caught his attention and he turned his head slightly and gasped. His eyes bulged from his head and his mouth hung open, his bodily functions loosened, He clenched as he glared at the sight before him.
He scurried backwards until he ran out of space, his back and head hit the wall with a resounding thud.
Blinking, he rubbed at his eyes, unable to form the words that would allow him to ask the vital questions. What in the world was going on? What had he done? And why couldn't he remember any of it? He looked down and saw his shirt hung open and clasped the front shut and mumbled. "What did we do?" He shook his head, confused and feeling groggy.
It wasn't possible, he had no regard or desire for Susan but the evidence was clear. He was definitely seeing what he thought he was seeing and it made him want to vomit. What he did with this woman wasn't in him. He'd wanted to save himself for marriage, for Missy, not this stranger.
He averted his eyes, he’d been staring, unseeing, overwhelmed and grief stricken by the sense of loss and disgust in himself. He was never drinking again. He rose slowly and stuttered. "Did...did we?" He couldn’t say the words make love, he had no love for this woman. Instead he waved his hand behind him and in the woman’s direction. He couldn't look at her for fear of throwing up.
He would have to make it right and marry her. How could his life get any worse? The woman he truly loved was right there at his fingertips and he'd soiled whatever hope they had of being together for something so meaningless, he couldn’t even remember doing it.
If suicide was an option he'd take it, welcome it. This was just too surreal. Clarkson buried his face in his hands as he disappeared into a well of disappear. He was unclean and not fit to lick Missy’s boots. With his back to Susan, he buttoned his shirt and bent to retrieve his belt. He would arrange the carriage for Missy as instructed. He couldn’t argue any longer.
Staying with Rilla and Cal was the safest thing for her. He must have some kind of disease. He’d go with her and speak to Cal. He needed help. If he was stupid enough to do something like this, at the very least he should be able to recall some small molecule of his transgression.
He'd an inkling Missy wouldn't be happy see him nor would she be pleased of his intention to join her, As well as the fact she wouldn't be talking to him for a while. But he'd seen pictures of gargoyles who looked softer than her.
She glared right through him as if he was invisible. He'd have gladly accepted any punishment she cared to dish out, than her total disregard.
It was as though she reached into his chest and pulled out his heart with jagged nails, leaving behind an infected hole.
He wished he could declare his innocence, but he didn't know what he had done. And it just dawned on him, Susan never did answer his question, as to what exactly had transpired between them. She's simply smiled at him thrown a rug over herself and floated gleefully from the room. He'd remembered thinking, well, at least one of them was happy. However, she hadn't said he did anything to, or with her. Maybe it was all just a horrible misunderstanding.
Now I was just clutching at straws. I'm a dead man. Calvin is going to kill me. Well, he should be thankful for s
mall mercies. He could have been dealing with Cassidy, his older brother.
Missy ignored him for the entire journey. She neither looked at him nor the scenery, her face eyes front and unmoving, like a statue.
Clarkson's heart sunk when he looked from the carriage window and saw the welcoming committee, waiting to pounce. Did his family have bat like sensor tuned in on him. He’d love to know how they always knew and were there lurking, waiting for him when he'd messed up. Why couldn't he catch a break?
Family court was already in session, and they hadn't even got inside the door yet. From the looks on everyone's face, he'd already been tried, convicted, hung, drawn and quartered for something he didn’t remember doing. To make it worse, they'd found him guilty of whatever it was, even without Missy saying a word.
All those biased, disloyal cretins did was see Missy’s belongings, in order to reach their guilty until proven innocent verdict.
Although her lips were pursed, too, his mother's eyes were kind and told him she would give him the benefit of the doubt. Which was the most important to him really. He mainly came to tell his ma that, having compromised his housekeeper, he'd decided to marry her. Show his ma she raised him right. He'd done some wrong things over the past few days, but it had always been his intent to do right by everyone.
Cal walked over to him. "I don't suppose it’s worth asking you what happened. Seems to me everybody's face is telling the same story. How could you mess up something so simple? Okay, little brother. You can thank your lucky stars the others ain't here."
"Yeah, sure, the last thing I'd want is to be stared at and judged by another eight pair of accusing gary eyes. You don't even know what happened, and you've already colored me black."
"I haven't assigned a color to you yet but if'n I did. It would be magenta or scarlet to go with your current behavior."
"See, that's what I'm talking about."
"Shut up and get in there. You can explain it to your mother. Just so you know, she a female, too. When you disrespect these woman, you disrespect her, too."
Clarkson shoulders slumped. What’s the use?
Cal had called it right. Magenta was his new color from the top of his head to the tip of his feet. Sitting in a room of family, listening to someone report on him was more shame than Clarkson could handle. He tried to leave as Missy give her account of events, but Cal forced him to stay. He sat head down, looking at his overly warm magenta hands to go with his ears, neck and cheeks. He'd seen his reflection when he glanced up at the cabinet, the floor as a focus for his gaze was safest.
That way he couldn't accidentally see the shocked and accusing glares of the women in the room. Cal’s posture seemed to relax as he fired question after question at Missy.
"I wonder if you ladies could excuse us. I need to speak with Clarkson, on his own. From what I'm hearing, this whole things seems staged. I think we need to go to the Ponderosa, so I can speak to your housekeeper."
"Why? I said I would marry her."
"Idiot, you're not marrying anyone until I get to the bottom of this."
"I'm not a child."
"Then stop acting like one."
"You're not the boss of me."
"Listen to your brother. He's not Pinkerton's finest for no reason. If Calvin thinks something is off, then something is off. He has a gut for these things," his mother said, with pride in her voice, her gaze traveling around the room, her head bobbing up and down, agreeing with herself.
Clarkson would like nothing better than to tell her she was wrong, but she wasn't, even when they were boys Calvin could always spot the truth. So none of them even bothered trying to lie to him.
His hand on Clarkson’s collar, Calvin pulled him from his seat. "No argument. We’re going to the Ponderosa. We can talk in the carriage." Cal kissed his wife and his mother and waked through the door. Clarkson followed.
If Calvin could find out what really went down, he’d be in a better place mentally. It was the not knowing, and the fact he'd allowed Missy to discover him in such a compromising position that troubled him the most. Drunk or sober, he could never willingly hurt her feelings.
Watching Cal at work, as he interrogated Susan, was something to behold. He even scared Clarkson, as he listened to Calvin ask her the same questions over and over again.
Who initiated contact? What did Clarkson say to her? Why was she in Clarkson’s side of the house, where, as the housekeeper, she had separate accommodations? Did Clarkson have any distinguishing marks? The questions were never ending and her answers were constantly changing.
He would even feed her back wrong answers and ask her if that was correct and she’d say it was.
Calvin had interrogated Clarkson, too, on the way, but nothing so drawn-out. Then he told Clarkson, he thought Susan must have drugged him. With Kimberly gone, she saw him as an easy mark. She'd used his naivety against him, knowing if she compromised him, Clarkson was the type of man to do the right thing.
"She's good, I'll give her that. Her one mistake was thinking you were in love with Kimberly. She hadn’t banked on you being in love with Missy. She hadn't seen Missy as a threat to her plans, that was her undoing. And trying to take advantage of my brother is the next. When I’m done with her, she'll wish she'd never heard the name Dalton," he’d said. "As for Kimberly running off with her prince, I'm kind of glad. I always thought Missy was a better match for you. I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever come to your senses. Then when you did, you disappointed the hell out of me. Have you no idea how to woo a lady?"
"Obviously not. Why didn't you just tell me Kimberly would be bad for me?"
"Because that’s something a man has to come to on his own. Besides, would you have believed me.?"
"I doubt it. You’re not the only one who can be pigheaded, I guess. What am I going to do about Missy?"
"What do you want to do about Missy?"
"If this thing you say about Susan is true and I didn't behave inappropriately, then I want to ask Missy to marry me."
"Just like that from one woman to the next with no regard for her feelings especially when the woman she'll be replacing was her best friend, who ran out on you. How d’you think that makes her feel?"
"I don't know. Why don't you just tell me what to say to make it right?"
"Because you'll always be coming to me instead of figuring things out for yourself. Put yourself in Missy’s place, and I’m sure the answer will come to you."
"Why did you really think I didn't do what Missy thinks I’ve done?"
"Because I know you brother. There is no way on this green earth, drunk or sober, you would have eyes for any woman you didn't love. That’s why I could never understand why you would pursue Kimberly when you've always been in love with Missy. You let Kimberly beat you on purpose so you could go running to Missy to kiss it better. You're a fool when it comes to the ladies, make no mistake. Even Kimberly knew it, and she ain't the sharpest knife in the knife rack."
"So why didn't anyone tell me...okay don't say it. I have to figure it out on my own. I get it. Let's just clear my name so I can go and see Missy. I think I know what I have to do now." The sooner they could get to the Ponderosa and confront Susan. The sooner, he could talk to Missy.
"For heaven sakes, please don't go in there lips all puckered up. The way Missy is feeling you might lose her, and this time for good."
He never did get time to respond to what Cal said. They had reached the Ponderosa.
After they'd been here over two hours. Finally, Susan cracked and admitted she'd drugged Clarkson and staged the whole thing, thinking if she had Missy as her witness, Clarkson would marry her and she would be the real mistress of the Ponderosa, not just its housekeeper.
She loved the place as if it were her own. She'd just wanted somewhere to belong.
Calvin had ordered Susan to leave before he had her locked up. Clarkson stopped him. He told Susan she could stay in the guesthouse, while he arranged to get something built for her
, away from the house, on the land. Until then he'd have it blocked off and she wasn't allowed in the main house ever. But she could continue on as the ranch manager. She did a good job, and until Cassidy came, he'd need someone who knew what they were doing.
"Trust me, Miss, my brother is more generous than me. I'd see you off my land in a minute."
"Can we go back now? I need to speak to Missy."
Cal would never understand why he allowed Susan to stay.
He’d never experienced being on the outside looking in, not feeling a part of something. It can make you do crazy things out of desperation. He understood her motive too well. He didn’t forgive Susan, nor did he trust her, but she was good at what she did and she loved the Ponderosa. No matter what she’d done, he couldn't take that away from her, knowing it was all she had.
If he wanted to start a life with Missy, he had to be the man she wanted him to be. The man in the letters.
Chapter 24
The carriage approached the main gate leading to the front of Rilla's mansion just as another carriage headed out of the same gateway in the opposite direction. Clarkson’s head spun around as he gazed through the carriage window and saw Missy sniffling into her handkerchief.
The vein in his neck popped and throbbed. Inside he knew what seeing Missy leave meant, but he didn't want to believe it. He needed to hear the words spoken out loud. Which is what happened when their carriage pulled up alongside his mother who'd been standing out front seeing Missy off.
Clarkson pushed down the window and stuck his head out. His mother stared at him through tear filled eyes.
"Missy's gone. She's taking the carriage to the Harbor she's planning on getting the next ship back to England.
Eyes blazing, Clarkson glared at Cal. "Get out," he said, "get out now. I need to catch up to her." Cal's legs had barely touched the ground when Clarkson screamed at the driver to catch up to the carriage carrying Missy away from him.
Love Letters (Unbridled Book 3) Page 11