“He’s ready,” Bella said, pointing to the bed. “Take him. Quickly. Please.” She was trembling so badly she had to grasp the back of a chair for support.
Unable to watch, she pressed her palm against her heart and headed for the opposite door.
“Come, Toddy.” He pranced across the room to her side. “That’s my good boy,” she said, praising the dog in the honeyed tone she used whenever he did exactly as she commanded.
The crimps took hold of Sam Heart and jerked him to his feet. He retched and vomited on his shining black boots as well as the crimps’ worn ones, earning himself a rap on the side of the head.
“Damn you, Bella Duprey!” Sam cursed. He struggled futilely as the seamen dragged him to the window. “I hope you go to hell for this,” he gasped.
“I think it is you, Sam, who is going to hell.”
Her heart breaking, Bella lingered in the doorway with her fingers clutching the brass doorknob. As the crimps shoved Sam Heart out into the night, the man mustered one last burst of energy.
He lashed out, kicking and swearing. The toe of his boot caught on the edge of the table beside the window and sent the kerosene lamp atop it crashing to the floor.
Glass shattered. Kerosene spilled. Immediately, tongues of orange flame licked up the lace curtains, raced down across the polished wooden floor and encircled the wooden chest.
Horrified, Bella screamed and ran toward the fire. She could think of only one thing—saving her precious trunk filled with memories of the past and hopes for the future.
Amy’s Story
Chelley Kitzmiller
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER ONE
Barbary Coast
San Francisco, California
One week later
“I GOTTA WARN YOU, missy. There ain’t much left to see.”
Amelia Duprey sat perched on the edge of the buggy seat, her gloved hands tightly clenched around Toddy’s braided silk leash. Despite the warning, when the buggy rounded the curve, she gasped at the sight of the charred ruins of the Cock O’ The Walk. It was almost as shocking as coming home from school to the news of her mother’s death only hours before.
Howard Evans reined the horse to the side of the road and set the brake. “Hard to take, ain’t it?”
Amy nodded, unable to speak. Only the stairs were left standing. As a child, she used to hide behind a potted palm at the top of them and watch her mother greet the customers.
Toddy’s whine drew Amy’s attention away from the rubble. “I know, boy. I know.” She put a comforting arm around the dog and patted his shoulder. In a sitting position, the curly canine was as tall as Amy.
“I couldn’t bring myself to ask you before,” Amy ventured, “but...do you know how the fire got started?”
“Well, I—” Howard hesitated, regarding her with a look of uncertainty. “Considering it happened so suddenlike, I ’spect someone knocked over a kerosene lamp.”
“Was there a fight?”
Howard shook his head. “Your mama didn’t allow no fights. Fact is, everything was goin’ as planned—I mean...just fine.”
Amy’s brow puckered in question but before she could speak, Howard went on to explain.
“She’d finished dealing for the night and went upstairs,” he said, his gaze on the ruins. “It weren’t an hour later when she come running back down, leading Toddy with one hand, dragging her trunk with the other and screaming, ‘Fire!’” He paused and took a deep breath as if to muster the courage to finish. “Everyone panicked and started running every which way. I grabbed the cash box and ran out the side door to go ring the fire bell. By the time I got back, the place was ablaze. Bella weren’t nowhere in sight, but she’d tied Toddy up to the handle on her trunk so I figured she was all right.” He bowed his head. “I figured wrong,” he said on a down note. “She’d gone back inside.”
“Why would she go back in?” Amy asked.
“For that.” With a glance behind him, Howard indicated the blanket-wrapped bundle in the rear seat. “Next thing I knew she come running out of the building dragging that painting of hers. By the time I got to her she was on her knees gasping for air. I done everything I could to try to save her, but there weren’t nothing I could do. She died in my arms.”
Thinking about the horror of that night, of the terrible way her mother had died, Amy shuddered. She would never understand why her mother had risked her life to save a painting. But then there was a lot Amy would never understand about her mother, which was exactly the way it was meant to be. Bella Duprey’s mystique was part of her success.
Amy turned to Evans. “I’m ready now,” she said in a steady voice. “We can go.”
He continued to hold the reins still. “I know it ain’t my place to tell you what to do, but I owe it to Bella to try to talk some sense into you. It’s only been a week since you got here. Seems to me that you should give yourself some time to think about what you want to do with your life before you go off to a ranch you ain’t even seen. Your ma left you more than enough money to see you through. And you’d have even more if you decided to sell the property.”
“Sell the ranch? Oh, no, Howard. I couldn’t possibly sell it,” she said, shaking her head. “Settling down on a ranch was Mama’s dream. I know you think I’m acting irrationally, but I really have thought things out. If I don’t like what I see, I can always come back here.”
“I know all about your mama’s dreams, believe me. But things are different now,” the gray-haired man argued. “It’s not up to you—”
Amy placed her gloved hand over his. “Howard, Mama gave me everything I ever wanted. I don’t know if it’s possible, but I have to try to make her dream come true.”
“You’re just as stubborn as Bella was,” he said with a rueful smile, then snapped the reins.
Minutes later they arrived at the stage station. Two burly men hefted Amy’s trunk and her
mother’s smaller one to the top of the coach. When they reached for the painting, she cautioned them to take extra care and watched as they stood it upright between her trunks.
Satisfied it was secure, she led Toddy around to the side of the coach. “Up, boy,” she commanded, patting the floor. Toddy needed no urging. He jumped up into the Concord and sat down. “He’s the smartest dog I’ve ever seen,” she said, turning to Evans.
“Bella was plumb crazy ’bout that fool dog. Spent a lot of time training him.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper and a small cloth bundle. “Here’s a list of basic tricks and commands you need to know right off to make him mind you. And here’s some of his favorite treats. Your mama made them special. He’ll do just about anything to get one, so you best hide them where he can’t see or smell them or he’ll drive you crazy with his beggin’. Everything else you need to know ’bout him is in Bella’s journal. You should know, Missy, that your mama put a lot of work into that journal. I believe she intended it to be useful for you one day, although I’m not quite sure how. As far as I know, it’s just full of dog commands.” Evans regarded Toddy with a look of dismay. “To hear Bella talk about that animal, you’d think he was human. Claimed he was the best thing that ever happened to her. Said he taught her more about men than all the courtesans in France.” The moment the words left his mouth, he reddened with embarrassment.
“Is that so?” Amy barely managed to hold back a smile. “In that case—” she lowered her voice to a whisper “—he’ll be quite an asset because I know nothing at all about men.” With that, she lifted her skirt and climbed up into the coach.
A red-faced Evans stood at the stage door until she was settled. “If you need me for anything—
anything at all—I’ll be working downtown at the What Cheer House.”
The moment had come. Amy didn’t speak for fear she would cry. She had known Howard Evans all her life and thought
of him as the father she never had.
“Thank you for loving Mama and taking care of her all these years.” She tried to stem the welling tears but could not. “I know in her own way she loved you, too.”
“That she did, honey. That she did.” Howard squeezed her hand, then stepped back as the Concord lurched forward.
* * *
IT WAS NOON when the stage pulled into Havilah, a busy mining town high in the Tehachapi Mountains. It stopped in front of the Golden Gate Hotel. As the passengers disembarked, the hotel proprietor, Leopold Wattiez, announced that he provided the best accommodations in town along with French-cooked meals.
Amy decided that a French-cooked meal was exactly what she needed before continuing on to the ranch. She tied Toddy to the post next to the water trough and went inside.
“Voilà!” said the rotund cook a few minutes later, as he set the plate down in front of her. Amy was hard-pressed to see what was French about the roast beef and potato dish, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Recalling some of the French phrases her mother had taught her, she praised his efforts and earned a beaming smile plus all the information she needed about the town, where to shop and where to hire a wagon and driver.
Not knowing exactly what supplies she would need, she decided to buy a little of everything so she wouldn’t have to come back for a while. Then she hired a boy with a spring wagon to load up her things and drive her out to the ranch.
An hour later, they came within view of Heartbreak Ranch.
“I ain’t been out here for a long time, but I’m purty sure this is it,” said the boy, pointing a finger.
Amy gasped in delight at the small white house surrounded by ancient oaks and emerald-green hills covered with bright orange poppies, blue lupine and owl’s clover. Dozens of fat steers stood grazing, not even looking up as the wagon drew close.
It’s Mama’s dream come true, she thought, wishing her mother were here to share this moment with her.
Riding in the back of the wagon, Toddy ran back and forth, barking with excitement.
“Toddy, quiet,” Amy commanded, then realized he probably thought the steers were big dogs and wanted to chase them. Until he got used to them—and they to Toddy—she’d have to tie him up.
The closer they got, the more Amy saw that the house’s beauty was an illusion, caused by distance and wishful thinking. Up close, it was nothing more than a tumbledown shack. Overcome with disappointment, she now felt relieved that her mother wasn’t there to see her dream shattered.
So this is Heartbreak Ranch. She shook her head. She’d wondered about the name. Now she knew. It broke her heart just looking at it—the chipped and peeling whitewash, the dilapidated front porch, the weatherworn door branded with a broken heart. Maybe she should have taken Howard’s advice and stayed in San Francisco.
“Where do you want me to put your things?” the boy asked.
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to turn the wagon around and head back to Havilah. Instead, she surprised herself by saying, “Anywhere will be fine.” Before she could change her mind, she climbed out of the wagon. Toddy leaped out of the wagon bed, nearly toppling her in his excitement to get down. She grabbed his leash and gently commanded him to settle down, but it was an effort in futility. Straining against his leash, he pulled her across the yard to the house, where he used his long nose to push the door open.
The inside of the house was even worse than the outside. Thick dust and dirt covered everything. A stack of old newspapers lay on the table, the edges chewed away. The furniture—what there was of it—was crudely made and the earthen floor was covered with animal droppings and litter.
The thought that this was her legacy made Amy groan. “Oh, Toddy, I don’t know....”
“That’s the last of it,” the boy said, walking up behind her.
Only when he held out his hand, did Amy remember that she needed to pay him. She reached into her reticule, pulled out three coins and dropped them into his palm.
“Much obliged, ma’am. Let me know if you need me for anything else, you hear?”
Amy could only nod. The fact was, she needed so much she didn’t know what to ask for first. Dazed, she stared after him as he climbed into the wagon and released the brake. He was beyond shouting distance when she thought to ask how she was supposed to contact him.
Toddy snapped her out of her thoughts when he jumped up on his hind legs and dropped his big paws on her shoulders.
“Good grief! What are you doing?” she asked, struggling to push him off. “Down, Toddy. Get down.”
She barely finished speaking when a raccoon scampered out of its hiding place and ran between them, then out the door.
Amy screamed and jumped back.
Toddy yipped and lurched forward, yanking his leash out of her hand. He ran after the creature at a full gallop.
Amy chased him, yelling for him to stop. Finally, the raccoon darted up an oak tree and sat on a branch looking smugly down at the dog.
“Bad dog!” Amy scolded between gasps. She tried to pull him away from the tree, but he fought her every step, twisting and turning, barking and yipping. She had no idea how to control the animal. Nothing on the list Howard had given her covered chasing raccoons up trees. Remembering that his other commands were in her mother’s journal, she decided to look them up at the first opportunity. On her way back to the house, she stopped at the pile of baggage and supplies and opened her satchel. She pocketed a handful of Toddy’s bite-size treats, thinking they might come in handy if Toddy gave her any more trouble.
Looking up at the sky, she figured she had about an hour before nightfall. After her town meal, she wasn’t hungry, which meant she wouldn’t have to tackle the kitchen area just yet. That was a relief, since it was the dirtiest.
She supposed the first thing to do was to put the bedroom in order so she would have a clean place to sleep. She tied Toddy to a porch post and fed him the leftover beef she’d saved from her supper.
It took less time than anticipated to clean the bedroom and make up the bed. As soon as she finished, she went outside to get her mother’s painting. Having already decided against hanging it in the main room because of the difficulty she would have explaining it to anyone who saw it, she opted for the bedroom.
Lifting the heavy, gilt-framed, life-size nude up to the nail above the bed proved to be a challenge. It took her three tries before she succeeded, then she jumped down off the bed and stood back to admire her efforts.
“You’re home, Mama,” she said, feeling a little foolish talking to an inanimate object. “I know it’s not exactly what you had in mind, but I promise you that one day it will be everything you dreamed of and more.”
A pistol shot interrupted her one-sided conversation.
Amy shrieked, jumped back and flattened herself against the wall next to the window. Outside, Toddy barked furiously. Dear God, don’t let him get shot. Cautiously, Amy sidled up next to the window and peeked out. At first, all she saw was Toddy fighting against his rope. Then she saw a half dozen men on horseback galloping toward the house, their guns drawn. Who were they? What did they want? She looked around for something to use as a weapon, then realized the futility of it. If they meant to do her harm, she was virtually at their mercy.
As she waited, something drew her gaze to the painting. Be brave, chérie. I am with you. I will always be with you.
Outside, an angry voice called out, “Whoever you are, get out here.”
Amy straightened her spine, smoothed back her hair and headed for the door.
The riders, still astride their horses, formed a semicircle several yards from the porch step. The sun had slipped below the horizon making it impossible for her to see their faces clearly.
“Who are you and what do you want?” In spite of her resolve, her voice cracked.
One of the six nudged his horse a step forward. “Name’s Walker Heart and you’re trespassin’ on my property.”
“There
must be some mistake,” Amy replied without hesitation.
“Damn right there is,” the man rejoined. “And you made it. Now get the hell off my land.”
Amy gasped. No one had ever spoken to her in such a crude manner. Forgetting to be cautious, she stomped out onto the porch, where Toddy’s loud, insistent barks provoked her all the more.
“Toddy, quiet,” she commanded so sternly that the curly, white canine lay down and put his head between his paws. “And you, Mr. Heart,” she said, pointing an accusing finger, “I’ll thank you to mind your language. You happen to be speaking to a lady.”
Walker Heart’s eyes widened in surprise at the blue-eyed blonde decorating his front porch. From a distance she hadn’t appeared to be anything
special—just another squatter’s wife. He’d ordered the last squatters off his property a month ago and threatened to shoot them if he ever saw them on his land again. He was sick and tired of folks trying to take what didn’t belong to them and had decided to get tough even if it meant gaining a reputation as a bully.
Damned if she isn’t the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen, he thought. And the maddest. Feet slightly apart, arms akimbo, she looked ready to do battle. But so was he. He rearranged himself in the saddle and leaned forward over the saddle horn. “I’m only gonna to tell you one more time. This is my land and I want you off it. Now.”
His land. Amy’s heart sank. Was it possible that this wasn’t Heartbreak Ranch after all? Had the boy made a mistake and brought her to the wrong ranch?
She was about to tell the rude Mr. Walker Heart that she would gladly leave if she had the means to do so when a thought struck her. Heart was the name on the deed.
“Are you related to a Sam Heart?” she ventured, hoping two and two would make four.
Walker cast a sideways look at the Indian next to him, then turned back to her. “He’s my pa.”
Heartbreak Ranch: Amy's StoryJosie's StoryHarmony's StoryArabella's Story Page 2