by Stacy Henrie
Despite her parents pushing, it didn’t seem like Lavina and her husband were as willing to give up that life as the Druitts wanted to believe. Were they hoping to entice their daughter with more than property as Maggy had guessed earlier? A beautiful house and ranch might be enough to sway the girl, especially if the gift came with a heaping amount of parental pressure, too.
She felt more than frustrated as she exited the inn at the conclusion of the meeting. There were still too many questions without answers. If Howe was still their primary suspect for the snake and the sabotage to the buggy, which she believed, where did his motive and the Druitts’ align? Or did they? Were they unknowingly working independent of each other?
“Maggy?”
Hearing Vienna call after her, she turned and pasted on a smile. “You heading home, too?”
“Soon.” Her expression looked troubled, which elicited Maggy’s compassion. But she couldn’t be seen talking so freely with Vienna.
“I’ll see you on Saturday to set up the decorations.”
She turned to go, but Vienna said in a rush, “Can I ask you something?”
“If it’s whether I like the yellow or the blue,” she said, facing the girl again, “I’m afraid I still don’t have an answer.”
Instead of prompting a smile as she’d hoped, Vienna glanced downward. “It isn’t about the decorations. It’s about...” She lifted her chin, giving Maggy a glimpse at her watery green eyes. “Chance would be furious if he knew I’d bullied you into talking to me again.”
“Is that what he said?” Anger had her clenching her jaw. “That you’re bullying me into talking to you?”
Vienna’s face flushed. “I haven’t meant to, truly. I’ve just found that talking with you is very helpful...”
“I’ve enjoyed every one of our conversations,” Maggy said with confidence and honesty. “And I would welcome another right now.”
She linked her arm with Vienna’s and steered her toward the far end of the porch. A seedling of doubt attempted to sprout inside her. After all, she’d committed to trying to spend less time talking with Vienna. But she wouldn’t stand by and let this girl’s husband convince her yet again that she was the one in the wrong, that she was the bully.
They sat in the same rockers they had the first afternoon they’d met. Only this time, Vienna hesitated only a moment before asking her question. “What did you do after your husband died?” Maggy had told her the other week about Jeb being killed in the fire. “I mean...how did you go from being more like me to...well, being like you are now?”
Maggy was tempted to laugh at the wording of the question, but she didn’t. She wouldn’t belittle Vienna’s courage to ask something so personal, for Maggy and for herself. And while she couldn’t tell her the part about deciding to become a detective, there were other things she could share.
“The biggest thing was time,” she answered as she set her rocker into motion. The back-and-forth rhythm helped her stay calm, in spite of the memories that would come to mind as she talked.
Vienna sighed, her hand rising to her stomach as it often did. “I don’t feel like I have time. Not with this little one on the way. I so want him or her to have a happy, loving home.” Maggy heard the silent plea behind her words—is that possible?
“I felt so lost after Jeb was killed. So scared.” She remembered the irony of those feelings. She’d felt them nearly every day while Jeb had been alive, and yet, they’d remained a constant inside her even after his death. “It took me several weeks to realize those feelings were mine, not something Jeb had put in me. I could keep feeling and living in fear and emptiness, or I could choose to feel something else.”
She paused, reliving that pivotal day in her mind. “And did you?” Vienna prompted. “Did you choose to feel something else?”
“Yes and no.”
Vienna shook her head in obvious confusion, making Maggy chuckle.
“I let go of feeling scared all the time,” she explained, “but I didn’t know what to replace it with. It took more time before I realized I could feel...free.”
“Free,” Vienna echoed in a half whisper. The awestruck quality of her voice reminded Maggy so much of herself that tears burned in her eyes.
She willed them back. “I was free of Jeb’s unkindness, both in word and deed, but I still needed to be free of the ugliness I’d let those things create inside me. So every morning the first thing I did was tell myself that I wasn’t worthless. That I was somebody.”
“Did you believe it?”
Maggy gave her a grim smile. “Not at first. There were days I had to tell myself over and over again, almost every hour, that I was worth something.” Her voice cracked with emotion at the memory, but she didn’t feel embarrassed. Vienna wouldn’t judge her. “The more and more I told myself that, the more I came to believe it. It was only then that I could see Jeb’s actions clearly and how my own fear had me making excuses—to myself and to him.”
“I’ve started to see some things differently, too,” Vienna admitted.
Maggy wasn’t surprised. Howe’s dander was up about more than Vienna talking with her. She guessed he’d gotten a glimpse of Vienna’s inner strength and it frightened him.
“Anything else that helped you while you were with him?”
Her real question rang in the air between them as if Vienna had shouted it. She was asking if things might get better if she stayed.
Maggy took her time answering; she couldn’t know what Vienna needed to do for her situation. Only Vienna could. But she hoped to offer some insight. “I needed that separation from Jeb for me to really see him and myself. Maybe it will be different for you, Vienna. Had I known and believed I was worth something back when he was living, I like to think I would have stood up for myself. And yet I don’t think we would have lasted too long that way. Jeb needed me weak and doubting. It was the only way for him to feel like he was enough himself.”
Her last declaration reverberated through her, clearly and powerfully, in a way that told her what she’d said was the truth. By the look on Vienna’s face, the young woman had been as affected by the words as Maggy.
If this understanding, this ability to see her past so clearly, was the result of sharing her experience with Vienna, then she wished she’d shared it sooner and with more people. Maybe the more she did so, the less she would feel those old anxieties.
As if reading her thoughts, Vienna asked, “Do you ever feel scared now? Being engaged to another man like you are?” She fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve, making Maggy wonder if she were hiding new bruises. “Do you ever worry Mr. Kent will end up being like your late husband?”
“No,” Maggy replied without hesitation and with full conviction. “Because I know Mr. Kent is different. He’s kinder and doesn’t feel challenged by my strength.” He was also handsome and smart and had a dry sense of humor that Maggy had come to admire.
If there ever was a man she might consider marrying, it would be Edward. She felt safe with him, and equally as important, she felt valued by him. Her thoughts and feelings mattered to Edward, and not just in how they related to his case. He seemed genuinely interested to know her.
But she wasn’t staying. She had the possibility of a wonderful new job waiting for her. For the first time, though, she didn’t feel the usual flicker of excitement at the thought of being promoted to head female detective.
“There are times I still feel scared.” She wanted to be as honest as she could with Vienna. “Flashbacks of memory will bring up all those old words and feelings. Even with someone as kind as Edward.” Maggy recalled how he’d found her in the middle of an episode that first day and how terrified she’d been when he’d held her wrist that first time.
Vienna dipped her head in a slow, thoughtful nod. There was no censure or pity in the gesture. “I could see that happening to me, too.”
New tears glistened in Vienna’s eyes. “Thank you. I do feel stronger each time we talk.”
Which explained Howe’s anger.
Had he been the one to tamper with the buggy? If so, would Maggy incur his wrath all the more after talking with Vienna today? She didn’t want anything happening to Edward or the ranch because of her.
Concern chewed at her peace of mind, until she reminded herself that Howe’s main quarrel seemed to be with her, and if he did try something, that would be his choice. Just as talking with Vienna had been her choice—one she was glad she’d made. Seeing the return of strength and hope in Vienna’s green eyes solidified Maggy’s resolve to face whatever outcomes came of her decision.
“I’d better go,” Vienna said, climbing to her feet. “Thanks again for talking with me and answering my questions.”
Maggy stood up from her rocker too. “You’re more than welcome.” On sudden impulse, she gave the young woman a quick hug. If she’d been blessed to have a sister, she liked to think the girl might have been a lot like Vienna. “I’ll see you Saturday.”
With a wave goodbye, she turned and headed toward the hitching post where she’d left her horse. Except the animal wasn’t there.
Maggy studied the other tethered mounts, but none of them were hers. Fury followed quickly on the heels of her concern. Hands on her hips, she surveyed the occupants of the porch and those moving about in the street. She didn’t recognize anyone, though.
She resisted the urge to kick one of the porch columns. First the buggy and now her horse. Her only consolation was that she hadn’t ridden Persimmon into town. She could hire another horse and carriage, but it felt like a waste of money, especially since she or Edward would need to pay to fix the broken one.
“It appears I will be walking,” she muttered to herself.
Keeping her chin high, she marched into the street. She’d certainly experienced far worse than a seven-mile trek on a summer day.
She hadn’t gotten far when she heard someone call her name. “Miss Worthwright.”
“Mrs. Druitt,” Maggy said, dipping her head as if on a social call.
The woman looked around. “Did you...walk to town today?”
“Uh...no.” She couldn’t reveal that her horse had been stolen. Not when she didn’t yet know if this woman was an accomplice to the deed or not. “Edward was kind enough to convey me.” Which was true. “But he was needed back at the ranch, so he was unable to wait until our meeting ended.” Also true.
Mrs. Druitt’s expression revealed only genuine pity. “If you aren’t opposed to walking the last mile or so, I can drive you that far.”
It took a great deal of effort for Maggy to hide her surprise and her happiness at her good fortune. That the very woman she hadn’t been able to converse with earlier was now offering her a ride back was more than fortuitous.
“That would be wonderful. Thank you.” She climbed onto the seat and arranged her skirt, feeling grateful she didn’t have to straddle the horse in her dress again. It wasn’t that she cared how she looked, but more the questions of why she wasn’t using the buggy that might come up.
As Mrs. Druitt headed south, Maggy settled in for a good, long chat. Hopefully one that would give her and Edward some definitive answers. She started out by asking the older woman about the history behind the upcoming ball. Mrs. Druitt, as Maggy well knew, loved talking about anything to do with the wives’ club and their events. After a while, Maggy steered the conversation from the club to questions about the woman’s early years in the area.
She learned the Druitts were among Sheridan’s founding families, a fact Mrs. Druitt clearly took pride in. However, each time she asked about the best ranches in the area or what Lavina and her husband would do if they did move here, her efforts were thwarted. Mrs. Druitt would reply with noncommittal answers such as “Oh, I couldn’t say.”
Frustration, born of the continuous dead ends in the conversation and the rising temperature, had Maggy feeling overly warm. She fanned her cheeks with her gloved hand, attempting to cool down. Her lapse into silence ironically produced an even greater talkative streak from her seat companion. Mrs. Druitt chattered away about the Fourth of July activities coming up next month and about some social occasions in the fall.
“They’re lovely events,” she said. “If you’re still here, I think you’ll quite enjoy them, Miss Worthwright.”
Maggy froze, her hand still in front of her face. A tingle ran up her spine. Had the woman actually said If you’re still here? Pasting on a neutral expression, though inside she was crowing with triumph, she lowered her hand to her lap. “I’m sorry. I think I misheard you. Did you say if I’m still here I’ll enjoy the events?”
“Is that what I said?” Mrs. Druitt laughed a bit too robustly and shifted nervously on the seat.
From the corner of her eye, Maggy could see that the woman’s face resembled a tomato in color. “Is there some reason I wouldn’t be here next month or this autumn?”
“No, of course not. It’s just that...well...” Maggy watched her visibly squirm. “Sometimes, unfortunately, things don’t work out between a couple. Nevil and I once thought Lavina would fancy one of the local ranchers, but then she became smitten with Felix.” Mrs. Druitt threw her a tight smile. “I only meant it would be a pity if things didn’t work out for you and Mr. Kent. We would certainly miss you.”
Maggy returned her smile—it wasn’t hard to do, given how victorious she felt. “I appreciate you saying so, Mrs. Druitt. Although...” She let her lips droop into a frown. “I don’t think everyone shares your opinion of me.”
“Oh?” The woman’s tone suggested confusion.
She pushed out a fabricated sigh. “Yes, someone meddled with my rented buggy today.” Maggy needed to see Mrs. Druitt’s reaction to this information, so she could test the theory she’d been thinking about since the near disaster. “If I’d kept driving, I would have likely been seriously injured.” She feigned a shudder. “It’s all rather frightening, especially since whoever did this had to know it was me who’d be driving the buggy today.”
Mrs. Druitt jerked back on the reins so quickly that Maggy had to grab the side of the carriage to keep from pitching forward. “I... I...just remembered I promised to be home early. May I let you off here?” Her face now looked as white as flour.
“Oh, of course. Thank you for the ride, Mrs. Druitt.”
Maggy hopped down to the ground and waved enthusiastically as the woman drove off, none too slowly, either. There were still about two miles to go before she reached the ranch, but she didn’t mind the walk. It would give her time to think and align these new bits of information with what she and Edward had already gathered.
Because, at long last, Get-Her-Man Maggy was one giant step closer to solving the case.
Chapter Thirteen
Edward glanced in the direction of the drive for the tenth time in so many minutes. His concentration on the accounts book he balanced on his knee was waning. Where was Maggy? He’d expected her much sooner, but there was still no sign of her and her horse. Had something happened? Perhaps the person who’d damaged the buggy had figured out his failure and had attempted to finish the job. His gut tightened at the possibility.
There had been no footprints near the stable, and he’d found nothing amiss inside the building, either. Whoever had perpetrated the damage to the buggy had been as thorough in concealing their work afterward as they had been in nearly splitting the axle.
He frowned at the number next to his pencil, trying to reme
mber what he’d been adding. If there hadn’t been things that required his attention here—such as the finances and overseeing the training of a couple horses—he could’ve stayed in town and ridden back with Maggy. Though she might have taken that as evidence that he didn’t trust her to look after herself, which wasn’t true. He trusted her; it was Howe and anyone involved in the sabotage whom he didn’t trust.
Tossing aside the pencil and book, he stood. It was pointless to keep calculating the same sums over and over again. He’d walk to the bridge to see if Maggy was coming.
He strode down the drive, his gaze lifting to the top of the arch. Each time he glimpsed the Running W brand—his brand—prominently displayed there, he felt a measure of satisfaction. He loved every square inch of this place, most of which he’d helped clear and construct with his own two hands. The same two hands that had known little physical labor five years ago.
Now he couldn’t imagine a life where he didn’t work and sweat and dream of the fruits of his efforts. He didn’t plan to give up such a life without a fight, either. And a fight was something he felt that he and Maggy were almost ready for.
After crossing over the bridge, Edward started up the road. The buggy still sat where Maggy had left it earlier that afternoon. He sent a prayer of gratitude heavenward, though it wasn’t his first today, that she’d been protected.
“Edward!”
He shifted his gaze to the road and felt his concerns ebb away when he saw Maggy strolling toward him, one gloved hand lifted in a wave. She’d unpinned her hat and was using it to fan her face. Her auburn hair had come loose, as it often did, from its pins, so that it tumbled past her shoulders. She looked tired but as beautiful and confident as ever. The sight of her made his heart jump inside his chest—and it wasn’t just because she was safe.
Only then did it register in his mind that she was walking, not riding a horse. A flicker of uneasiness disrupted his relief. “Did something happen to the horse?” he called out as she drew closer.