He’d cursed himself a thousand times for falling off the roof. It was his own damn fault. He’d been prancing around like a stud horse showing off for a mare. Now he was paying for his carelessness, and so was Amy.
He nuzzled his lips into her hair, breathing in her scent. Lemon verbena. He was convinced now that his suspicions about her and how she’d gotten the deed to the ranch were unfounded. She’d told him the truth. He didn’t need a Pinkerton man to confirm it. It amazed him that he could have ever doubted her. She was an open book—a picture book. There was nothing that couldn’t be read right there on her face. Fear. Anger. Passion. Love.
He wondered if he was just as readable, because if he was, she’d know exactly how he felt about her.
He ran his fingers through his hair and watched the sunrise through the window. The breeze kicked up again, blowing the curtains and billowing the checkered tablecloth on the wall, giving him a brief glimpse of the painting beneath.
“What the—?” Carefully, he raised himself on one elbow and waited for the billowing tablecloth to give him another peek. He didn’t have long to wait. The wind lifted the tablecloth, revealing what looked to be a woman’s nude portrait like the one hanging over the bar at Jersey Lil’s.
Amy stirred at his side, stretching like a lazy cat. “Walker? You awake?” Her voice was thick with sleep.
“Uh-huh.”
“What are you doing?”
“Tryin’ to get a better look at that painting. Looks like one I’ve seen before, but I can’t imagine what you’d be doin’ with it.”
She stiffened. Then she raised herself up in front of him, blocking his line of vision.
“Lie down and roll over. I’ll rub your back.”
“No, I want to see it. It looked like—”
The moment she’d been dreading was finally here and there was nothing she could do but face it. “It’s a nude,” she said, inching her way off the bed. “But unless you’ve been in San Francisco in the Cock O’ The Walk, you’ve never seen it before.”
She turned away from him and retied the ribbons on her nightgown. Then, taking a deep breath, she reached for the corner of the tablecloth and pulled it off.
Walker could only stare. It was a nude all right, a life-size nude of a woman reclining on a long red velvet settee. His eyes narrowed. His gaze moved over every inch of the woman’s painted body—from her slender ankles, to her ruby-red mouth, to her violet blue eyes. Incredible eyes.
Amy’s eyes.
He pulled a long, hard breath, clenched his jaw, then slid an accusing look at her. “Was my pa as big a sucker as me?”
Even though she’d been expecting this, her eyes filled with tears. “I told you before, I never met your father.” She’d thought he loved her, but love was unquestioning loyalty and trust. And he didn’t trust her.
He reached across the bed and grabbed the quilt. “I gotta hand it to you, Amy. You fooled me good,” he said with contempt.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said, pointing to the painting. “That she’s me, but you’re wrong. I would never—” She stopped herself before saying something that would scorn her mother’s memory.
“Come on, Amy,” he cajoled, looking at her as if she were ripe for the plucking. “Your secret is out. Now, how about tellin’ me how you got the deed and where my pa is.”
Disheartened by his behavior, Amy gathered her clothing from the nail behind the door and stood facing him. “The woman in the painting is my mother, Bella Duprey,” she began, hoping her voice wouldn’t crack. “She was something of a legend in San Francisco. The Queen of the Barbary Coast. She made the fatal mistake of falling in love with your father, and when he tried to make a fool of her, she cheated him out of the deed to Heartbreak Ranch, then had him shanghaied.” She glanced at Walker, who was staring at her openmouthed. “At least that was her plan,” she continued. “I don’t know for certain, since she died that same night in a fire that destroyed the Cock O’ The Walk. It’s all written down in her journal. There, in the trunk,” she finished, pointing to it beside the bed.
She didn’t wait to find out if he had any questions. As far as she was concerned there was nothing more to say.
It was over.
Sick and shaking, she left the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind her. Toddy sat waiting for her by the kitchen table. She kept her gaze trained on his while she changed into her clothes. She understood now how much Toddy had meant to her mother. He was the most loyal and trusting friend a woman could have.
“Let’s go for a walk.” She fastened his leash and went outside, no particular destination in mind. Allowed to take the lead, Toddy began an investigation of all the trees in the area. By the time Amy thought about how many trees he’d visited, they had walked a mile or more, all the way to the top of the hill.
A strong breeze blew over the mountains from the west, whipping Amy’s skirt about her legs. Shading her eyes against the sun, she looked out over a vast, fertile basin, dotted with grazing cattle and live oak trees. A good distance from where she stood, there was a large white house, surrounded by a white, three-rail fence and a half dozen outbuildings and corrals.
Amy stared at the house in confusion. Walker had told her there weren’t any neighbors. Had she misunderstood him? Or had he lied?
Her questions demanded immediate answers. And there was only one way to find out.
Amy marched resolutely down the other side of the hill. The closer she got to the house, the more impressive it was. There were neat green lawns, well-maintained outbuildings, newly whitewashed fences and corrals teeming with animals.
Slightly winded, she approached the arched gateway and squinted at the wooden sign hanging overhead. She recognized the brand burned into the wood.
A broken heart.
Just like the one on her front door.
This was Heartbreak Ranch.
Amy stood staring at the sign while her mind raced for any explanation other than the obvious one.
Walker had lied to her. All this time he’d let her believe that her tumbledown shack was the only house on Heartbreak Ranch. She looked up at the big white house still a quarter of a mile away and remembered wondering where Walker and his men lived, where he had disappeared to the night Toddy chased him over the hill and where he had gone all the nights since.
Now she knew, knew why Walker didn’t want her taking his horse to find his men. Knew why he wouldn’t give up the ranch without a fight.
Holding Toddy on a shortened leash to keep him close to her side, Amy walked toward the house, thinking that at any moment someone would see her and alert the ranch hands to her presence. But no one seemed to notice, except a pair of gray burros that galloped up to the fence and brayed at them.
Toddy yipped and ran behind Amy, winding his leash around her legs.
“Toddy, for heaven’s sake,” she said, trying to get untangled. “They aren’t going to hurt you, you big baby.”
“Something I can do for you, ma’am?” a deep voice asked, taking her by surprise.
Amy twisted to see a man standing behind her.
“Yes. Matter of fact there is. You need to hitch up a wagon and get your boss. He fell off my roof and hurt his back.”
“Walker fell off a roof?” The ranch hand scratched his head as if he couldn’t believe it.
Amy nodded, then agreed to wait while he brought the wagon around.
* * *
RAGE HAD DONE wonders for Walker’s back. Even before Amy left with Toddy, he was out of bed, on his feet and looking in the trunk for the journal she’d mentioned. A red velvet gown and a faro dealing box confirmed what he suspected. Amy was a—courtesan was the word she’d used. Just a fancy name for a whore. The bottles in the trunk were of no interest, nor was the jeweled dog collar he’d come across.
He picked up the leather-bound book fully expecting to see a list of clients, but was surprised instead to discover it really was a journal.
A coupl
e of hours later, Walker was dressed and sitting on the front porch brooding as he reread the last entry.
What Amy said was true. Her mother had had his father shanghaied. She’d drugged him, cheated him out of the deed, lured him up to her bedroom then ordered the crimps to take him away.
Or had her plan gone up in smoke along with the rest of the Cock O’ The Walk? Maybe his father had died in the fire.
His father shanghaied or dead, Walker had to face that his pa was gone for good. He sat stunned by the finality of it for a few moments, letting it sink in. He shook his head. As much as he loved his father and would miss him, Walker didn’t approve of him trying to make a fool out of Bella Duprey. He’d witnessed his father’s downward spiral since his mother’s death and Walker recognized that this kind of disastrous conclusion had been inevitable. Bella Duprey was only marginally to blame. And Amy, he knew, wasn’t to blame at all.
He looked up when he heard the rattle of a wagon coming down the hill. His foreman was driving and Amy and Toddy were sitting beside him.
Walker struggled out of the chair and waited for the wagon. When it came to a halt, he handed Amy down in spite of her attempt to push him away.
Looking confused, the foreman said, “The little lady said you fell off the roof and needed me to fetch you home.”
“Fetch?” Walker stared pointedly at Amy, then glanced at Toddy. “Figures.”
“What?” asked the foreman.
“Nothin’.”
“Well, are you coming or not?”
“No. I’m stayin’ right here for the next couple of days—to recuperate. Go back and tell the boys to get to gatherin’ up those mamas and their spring calves.” Walker turned around and started to walk away when the foreman called him back.
“Hey, I almost forgot. One of the boys picked up your wire when he was in town.” He handed Walker a folded piece of paper.
“Thanks.” Walker read it, then stood staring at the missive long after his foreman had gone. He’d hoped it would say his father was alive and well, but instead it more or less repeated what Amy had told him. It ended with a statement that the last anyone saw of Sam Heart, he’d been heading up the stairs of the Cock O’ The Walk with Bella Duprey.
When Walker looked up, he saw that he was alone. Amy and Toddy must have gone into the shack. His first thought was that he and Amy needed to talk, to sort things out. He would admit that he’d been wrong to keep the truth hidden from her if she’d admit that she should have told him what she knew about his father’s misadventures. They were both wrong, but they both had dreams to protect. It occurred to Walker then that he and Amy actually shared the same dream. Heartbreak Ranch.
Taking long, purposeful strides toward the shack, Walker flung the door open wide and stepped inside. Only Toddy was there to greet him.
“Where is she?”
Toddy barked once, then walked over to the bedroom door and scratched his paw against the frame.
“Good Toddy. Good dog,” he said, patting Toddy’s head. Walker pushed against the half-open door and saw that Amy was busy packing her belongings.
“What do you think your ma would say if she knew you were giving up her dream?”
“She should have thought about that when she cheated your father out of his deed.”
Walker looked down at his boots, then back up at Amy. “From what I can tell, my pa did a little cheatin’ of his own.”
She glanced up, her gaze meeting his. “You read the journal?”
“Yep.” He picked the book up off the end of the bed and handed it to her.
Amy stopped packing and took it from him, her fingers caressing the cover. Then she laid it in the trunk on top of her clothes.
The realization that she was preparing to leave sent a surge of panic through him. “Dammit, Amy. You’re not leavin’ till we’ve talked this out.”
Amy slammed the lid of the trunk shut and turned to face him. “Don’t you ‘dammit, Amy’ me, Walker Heart. You lied to me!”
“And you withheld what you knew from me.”
Amy turned to look at the painting and put her hand to her mouth. Walker saw that she was on the verge of tears and chastised himself for being so rough. “Look,” he said, taking a step toward her. “Let’s call it a draw and split the pot.”
He waited for her to make a move, but she didn’t.
“I’ve been thinkin’,” he said, his heart in his throat, “that there’s one way to solve everything.” He took a deep breath. “You could marry me.”
Amy whirled around and stared at him, her eyes shining with tears.
“Marry you? You want me to marry you?” Her voice conveyed utter confusion.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked down at Toddy, who was sitting on the floor beside her.
“I just thought—” He broke off, wondering what to say next. He didn’t want to beg, but neither did he want his proposal to come off like a goodwill gesture. “Ah, hell, Amy. I’m not very good at sayin’ what’s in my heart, but the truth is that I love you. I’d be right proud if you’d be my wife.”
At his words, her sobs lessened and a small smile began to form on her face. “Oh, Walker. You’re sure? Because I love you, too.”
Grinning, Walker held out his hand to her. “Come here and see if you can teach this old dog some new tricks.”
Amy gave a surprised laugh and ran into his arms. He held her close and breathed in the scent of her. He suddenly thought, this would be the moment they would tell their children and grandchildren about. It was a pleasant thought.
Behind them a woman’s accented voice whispered, “You can have it all, mes chers—the ranch, each other and the dream.”
A movement, so slight it was almost imperceptible, pulled Walker’s gaze toward the painting over the bed. “Did you see that?” he asked, staring at the painting with narrowed eyes.
“See what?”
“Maybe I’m goin’ crazy here, but I could’ve sworn Bella Duprey just winked at me.”
Amy turned her gaze to the painting of her beloved mother and smiled.
* * * * *
Josie’s Story
Jill Marie Landis
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER ONE
Heartbreak Ranch
Spring 1890
WILLIAM HEART REINED IN atop the hill and let his gaze drift over the wide basin below. Rich grazing land, cut by fences, stretched like a patchwork quilt from a creekbed that fringed the hills to the surrounding mountains cloaked in haze. A huge barn and outbuildings along with corrals and holding pens stood at the base of the hill. Across from them, where the land began a gentle rise, a white frame house presided over the landscape. The place was well tended and newly whitewashed. The windows of the house sparkled in the spring sunshine.
Heartbreak Ranch. Will would have known the place anywhere, for the house was exactly the way his father, Sam Heart, had always described it. The journey to this place high in the Tehachapis had been long, but no longer than one would expect when coming all the way from the slopes of Mauna Kea on the Big Island of Hawaii.
As he gazed down at the old house, his heart swelled with anticipation, for in a few minutes, perhaps less than a quarter of an hour, he would be standing face-to-face with Sam Heart’s haole son Walker, the American half brother he had never known.
Will nudged the horse with his knees and the animal responded immediately. He was proud of the red roan Andalusian stallion he had purchased in Bakersfield, anxious to get the horse back to Hawaii and breed it with his rugged Hawaiian stock. He couldn’t wait to see his younger brothers’ faces when they saw the animal’s huge size and its color, the same as the island’s iron-rich soil. But before he could leave California, W
ill wanted to put a face to the name he had heard his father mention so often.
He let the horse negotiate the steep, rocky hillside and in no time reached the base of the hill. Crossing the quiet road, Will glanced over at the outbuildings. They seemed to be deserted. He had passed an occasional line rider in the hills and had seen a few men working the far edge of the basin, but no ranch hands appeared to be in the corral this afternoon. He headed directly toward the house.
He passed by the front door, aiming to tie up at a hitching post, which he knew from his father’s detailed accounts to be around back. As he skirted the side of the house, he drew up short when he suddenly heard the sound of voices carried on the breeze. By the time he realized he had ridden straight into an elegant garden party, it was already too late to turn back.
At least six tables with eight guests each were assembled beneath the leafy oaks and maples in the yard. The tables were covered with starched white linens, floral china and gleaming silver. Sunlight glinted off the stemware; copious bouquets of spring roses filled cut-glass vases on each table. A footed glass cake plate crowded with petits fours made his mouth water.
All eyes turned in his direction and conversation ceased as he dismounted. William was suddenly very aware of his trail-weary duster and battered black felt hat with its unusual hatband made of a dried flower lei.
With a cursory search, he tried to locate Walker Heart amid the well-dressed men and women gathered at the tables. He froze the second his gaze fell upon the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen in his life. Her bearing was as regal as that of a member of Hawaiian royalty, the ali’i. She sat with her shoulders straight, her head erect. Thick, rich, amber hair the color of dark honey was piled atop her head in the latest style. Tendrils escaped to tease her ears and cheeks. Even from where he stood across the grassy yard, Will’s hands itched to loop one of those strategically placed locks behind her ear. He became even more mesmerized when he realized she was staring back at him.
“Can I help you?”
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