“Is Merril all right?” Nichole took an involuntary step forward.
“Oh, yes, Merril's fine. I wasn't implying you were any healthier, only that you are better looking.” Doc laughed at his own joke. He adjusted his glasses and grew serious once more. “How do you feel, young woman?” He set his bag on the chair near the door and then searched through the contents. “Not resting and not following your doctor's orders, I hear.”
“I'm fine,” Nichole replied and smiled at the funny old doctor.
The doctor quirked an eyebrow. “Well, we shall see about that. Please, have a seat.” Doc indicated the end of the bed and Nichole perched on the mattress. “Have you been able to remember anything yet? No? I wouldn't worry about that. These things take time.”
“Yes.” Nichole glanced at Amy who stood in the doorway. “They must.”
Doc Johnson listened for a moment to Nichole’s back with an odd horn device then probed her head gently. “Still a little tender, I see. Well, that is to be expected. Other than the sore head, how have you been feeling? No dizzy spells? No fainting?” At a shake of her head, he replied, “Good.”
He withdrew a small pair of scissors from his case and pushed the hair from her forehead. With quick, sure snips, he cut each tiny stitch and pulled the thread from her injury.
“Doctor,” Amy spoke as soon as Doc Johnson finished. “The spring roundup is ending.”
“Yes, yes.” The doctor acknowledged as he returned his instrument to his case. “There should be no problem with this young lady attending the festivities,” he said as he patted Nichole on the cheek with a smile. “It is good to see you doing so well, little girl. Now, I have to run. Amy, tell that husband of yours I said hello.” He nodded to Amy as he passed her to step from Nichole’s room.
“It seems to be one thing after another with you folks this year. No need to see me out. I can find my way. Good day to you both.”
Chapter 28
Nichole Harris
Nichole listened to Doc Johnson’s footsteps descend the stairs and the front door close. “He's become a regular here and at The Shilo, hasn't he?” Nichole opened the chest to find another plain skirt to wear.
“Skirt and blouse again?” Amy inquired.
“These are more comfortable than the heavy gowns, less frilly and fancy.” Nichole indicated Amy's clothes. “Not that there’s anything wrong with your frilly—” She touched her heated face.
Amy chuckled. “Let me choose one I think you might like.” She opened the wardrobe and pushed several outfits aside, finally pulling out a blue cotton day dress, and presented it to Nichole. “We should also choose one for the barbeque. Jeanne or Lawna will need to press it.”
Nichole sighed at the ruffled sleeves and hemline on the gown Amy presented.
At least it doesn’t have a bustle.
Amy unhooked the garment from the hanger at Nichole’s reluctant nod. “You never cared for this one, although it’s like what I wear when I'm here. It's loose enough to pull over your head, then tied snug with the ribbons down the back.” Amy chatted as she slipped the material over Nichole's wet hair and helped her find the armholes. “Jason didn't explain how you and Merril ended up without your clothing.”
Nichole’s face warmed again, but she couldn't keep the smile from her face as she settled the neckline well above her cleavage.
“I see.” Amy laughed and spun Nichole around. She straightened the seams and pulled the ties tight in the back. “You always did have a soft spot for that wild one.”
“Jones started shooting at us before we could get our clothes,” Nichole confessed. A glance in the mirror showed her how red her face had become.
“Ah,” Amy said as if that explained everything. Once the dress was fitted to her liking, she picked up the hairbrush. “Have a seat. I'll brush this out.”
Amy had just finished tying a blue ribbon on the bottom of the braid when a hard pounding at the front door reverberated through the house. Amy stiffened immediately, then turned and left the room.
Nichole rose and followed her down the stairs.
Amy paused at the bottom and looked hesitantly toward the kitchen, then, she stepped to the door just as the pounding began again.
A young cowboy, no more than fifteen years old, pulled a dusty felt hat from his head. He looked apologetically at Amy. “Excuse me, ma'am, for disturbin' your afternoon, but we wondered if you might have seen Merril Shilo ride by this way?”
Amy glanced at the other young wrangler who held the reins of two horses, then back to the boy at the door. “Has something happened?”
“I ... I don't know what you mean, ma'am,” the cowboy stammered, and looked away.
At the mention of Merril's name, Nichole rushed down the remaining steps. Her ice blue eyes caught and held the young cowboy’s nervous glance. “Has something happened to Merril?” She stopped in the doorway beside Amy.
“No, ma'am.” The youngster gripped the hat in his hands and shifted his glance from one woman to the other.
“What, then?” Amy countered. “Why would you come here to find him?”
The cowpoke looked from Nichole to Amy and swallowed hard. He glanced over his shoulder at his friend in the yard, and then sighed and scuffed his boots on the wooden deck. “We'd jus' got back to the bunkhouse when we heard Miss Renata screamin'. She was yellin' about someone being crazy and somebody dyin'.”
He glanced up at the women in the doorway, and then looked back down at his boots. “We all ran up to the house to see what the matter was. Right then, Merril came bustin' out on the porch. He dang near knocked me clean over the railin'—and ma'am—he never even saw me. He walked straight to that big black horse of his and rode away.”
“Go on,” Amy urged when the boy hesitated.
“Ma'am, I don’t know if I should, you bein' ladies and all—”
“Just say it.” Nichole's tone was harsh and brooked no argument.
Startled, he gawked at her. “Nobody wanted to go after Merril, not then. We didn't know what was goin' on, and most of us felt it weren't none of our business, anyway. It was about then that Miss Renata ran out on the porch.”
The boy blushed and looked back at his boots and shrugged. “Miss Renata's dress was torn real bad across here.” He motioned to his chest, but never looked up at the two women. “She was still carryin' on, only not as loud. She said Merril had tried to ... touch her, and when she refused him, he got really mad and tore her dress.” A noise from Nichole's throat made him look up, but he continued his tale. “She said Kevin tried to stop him, and he just went plumb crazy. He tried to kill his brother, ma'am. We ran into Doc Johnson and sent him back over to The Shilo.”
“Oh, my,” Amy breathed.
“Amy, you don't believe him, do you?”
“I'm tellin' the truth, ma'am. I swear to God. I was there. Mr. Shilo's in real bad shape like I said, he couldn't even stand up. We had to carry him to his room, and Miss Renata—”
“That's enough.” Nichole’s short command stopped the young man from speaking.
It's not his fault.
She softened her tone and added, “If we see Merril, we will send a message to The Shilo.”
“I appreciate it, ma'am. Sorry to have been the one to tell ya.” He put the felt hat on his head with something akin to relief in his boyish features and raced back to his friend.
Nichole closed the door and leaned against it—anger and fear combining to drive the breath from her lungs.
“I must find Jason.” Amy turned toward the dining room, so deep within herself and her own thoughts she seemed to have spoken to herself.
“Merril wouldn't do this, Amy,” Nichole stated. “He hates Renata. He would no more make a pass at her than the man in the moon.”
“That may be, but the fact remains that whatever happened, Merril is running from it. I must find Jason.” Amy didn't pause.
Nichole watched as Amy walked away. She passed the dining room table and disappe
ared into the back of the house.
She must know something.
Anxiety built in her chest, and she knew she couldn't just wait here. She had to find Merril; he was injured, hunted, and wrongly accused. Before she could change her mind, she slipped out the door and hurried to the side of the house and peeked around the corner.
Jimmy Leigh stood next to the old man with the puppies. They spoke for a moment then Jim's head came up sharply, and he looked toward the back porch.
Nichole held her breath, afraid he’d seen her.
Instead of heading her direction, he made his way to the back of the house.
Now was her chance. She grasped the hem of her dress with one hand and ran to the edge of the corral. At the wooden fence, she paused. The horses snorted and pranced, wary of her strange scent. She spoke gently to the shy animals, but they paced away. Movement near the house forced her hand, and she crept behind the barn.
The double doors were open on the back side of the barn. Tied to a post near the corner was Jim's gelding, rested from his return from The Shilo, and awaiting the stableman's attention.
Inside, someone shuffled around the front stalls and spoke softly to the puppies.
Without pause, she untied the reins and led the big horse away from the barn. The gelding was a much larger horse than Sugar, but it didn't matter. There was no other way.
Nichole hiked her skirt above her knees and slipped the toe of her boot into the stirrup. Pulling herself up, she swung her leg over the saddle and wiggled onto the leather seat. Jim’s horse acknowledged her weight and pranced uneasily as she tightened the reins. Her feet didn't reach the stirrups, but that couldn't be helped.
“Come on now,” Nichole spoke softly. “Work with me, here.”
With a shake of the reins and a small amount of pressure from her heels, the gelding shot away from The Highlands ranch house. Her braid came undone, and her long, blonde hair streamed out behind her.
Where would Merril go? Where can I look that Kevin's men haven't?
She retraced the trail past the branding site, to the small thicket surrounding the spring pool. Merril wasn't there. She sat still and tried to imagine where he might have gone. Why couldn't she remember where he would go? She should know that, shouldn't she?
“Nicki!”
The shout brought her around, and she scoured the prairie behind her; panic fluttered in her chest.
Where had the shout come from?
Abruptly aware of her vulnerability, Amy's warning flashed through her mind.
I'm like the dumb blonde in a slasher flick. Shit.
She didn't even have a gun with her. Movement caught her eye as a rider made his way across the field to her.
Jones wouldn't call my name, would he?
Then she recognized the rider. The relief of seeing Jason's angry face made Nichole practically swoon in the saddle.
“Damn it, Nicki! What the hell is wrong with you?” Red-faced and furious, Jason pulled rein beside her.
Relief filled her head and sounded in her voice. “It's you.”
“You're damn lucky it's me! I knew—I knew the minute I found you gone, along with Jimmy Leigh's horse, where you would go. Thank God you're predictable if nothing else. Did you think Merril would sit by your lovers’ pond, and wait for you to save him? After what he's done, he's bound to be out of the area by now.”
The gelding danced away from Jason's horse, and Nichole tightened her grip on the reins. “Merril didn't try to rape Renata. She's lying, Jason. She—”
“Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think you are the only one who could find Merril and set things right?”
“If you know she's lying, then why don't you—”
“Renata isn't the problem.” Jason interrupted. “Those two brothers have been working up to this for years, and nothing I say is going to change that. But you— You have caused me enough grief and worry in the last two days to last a lifetime. It is going to end.” Jason's face had grown redder as he spoke. “You are coming home with me right now. You’re not to leave that house without my express permission and an armed escort.”
Nichole breathed a deep sigh and looked at the barren plain. Now, she could imagine Jones behind every tall blade of grass. “You're right. I’m sorry I frightened you. I just... I want to find Merril. This story—what they say happened—it isn't right.”
“I know.” The anger drained from Jason's face. He turned away and gazed over the prairie.
Nichole studied his profile, so similar to her own. He clenched his jaw several times, lost in thought. She reached over to him and pulled a blond curl from beneath the collar of his jacket. “What are you thinking?”
When he faced her, his gaze was firm. He met her blue eyes equally with his own, studying her silently for a moment as if he weighed his words. “I was thinking about your father. What he would have said about all this.”
“What would he have said?”
“I don't know anymore, Nicki. I just don't know.”
He ran his fingers through his hair and replaced his hat on his head, turning his mare away without meeting her eyes. “Let's go home. If Kevin can't find Merril, then he doesn't mean to be found. We have a barbeque to prepare for. And even if the Shilos don't attend, I intend to make sure it’s a good one.”
They didn't speak on the ride back to the ranch house. When they reached the yard, Jason dismounted and held the bit while Nichole climbed down from the big horse, then he took both animals to the barn.
As Nichole walked to the house, she saw Amy watching from the window. She met her gaze when she stepped inside. “Sorry I took off like that.”
“No apology is necessary.” Amy waved her hand. “I understand.”
“You're not angry?”
“Angry? Whatever for? Worried, yes. However, I was in much the same mind to do what you did; that's why I went to find Jason. I knew he'd talk me out of it. Now, come with me. There are many things to do and decide on before Friday,”
Nichole followed Amy through the house to the kitchen. Lack of sleep began to have its effect, and before long, Nichole excused herself to her room.
As she struck a match to the lamp on her dresser, another pain raced through her head. She pressed against the dull ache it left in its wake. All she could think of was closing her eyes. After she turned down the bedcover, she sat and removed her boots.
Nichole struggled with the ties on her dress and considered calling Jeanne to help, but asking to be undressed seemed absurd. Finally, she found her way free of the laced ribbons, and she let the gown fall in a heap on the floor. She was asleep the minute her head hit the pillow.
She slept late the next day, waking only when the sunlight moved across her room to her bed. Her sunburned skin stretched tight and dry across her shoulders and stung her nose, reminding her of yesterday and what happened to Toma. She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow, wishing to escape into slumber once more.
Outside her window, Jason called instructions to one of the hands.
Where is Merril?
She rolled over and gazed dispiritedly at the ceiling.
I wish he were here.
Inch by inch, her legs slipped from beneath the covers, and she rose from the bed. Taking the photo of him from the mantel, she lowered herself to the dressing table chair and stared into his eyes.
Tomorrow night would be the big barbeque. She should decide what she would wear, but sorrow weighed her down. She rubbed her forehead and turned to looked woefully at her wardrobe.
How can I even pretend to care about this celebration?
A knock sounded at the front door.
More bad news she supposed, but she didn't care. Merril was gone, and the parts of her memory that were coming back made no sense.
It was frightening.
She couldn't find any part of her that cared what frilly dress she might wear. Toma was dead. Merril was missing. And her mind was coming apart.
She put h
er head in her hands and listened to the murmur of voices that floated up the stairs.
Chapter 29
Jason Harris
Jason held the door handle in a viselike grip. A muscle twitched along his jaw. This was too much. First, the boy arrived from The Shilo early this morning saying a couple of the hands had seen Jones hanging around. They had tried to follow him but had finally turned back. It probably saved their lives. And now, this. He expelled an exasperated breath and opened the door wide. “Well, Renata, what brings you here this early? I hadn't expected guests today.”
“This isn't a social call, I'm afraid.” She stepped into the house, drawing with her a tall, bearded man Jason had never met before.
“Jason, this is Dr. Clemens.” Renata placed a hand on each man. “Dr. Clemens, this is Jason Harris, the cousin of the woman I spoke to you about.”
Jason eyed Dr. Clemens with suspicion as they shook hands.
“Dr. Clemens agreed to visit with Nichole.” Renata continued speaking as she removed her gloves. “He has studied cases like hers, haven't you, doctor? I'm sure if anyone could help Nichole, Dr. Clemens could.”
Renata bit her bottom lip and gave Jason an innocent smile that didn't deceive him. He studied her a moment with a cold, hard look, then turned to Dr. Clemens.
“Dr. Clemens.” Jason acknowledged the stranger coldly. “Your name is familiar. Have we met before?”
Dr. Clemens shook his head. “No. I don't believe so.”
Jason released his hand and stepped back. “I'm sorry to say you've come a long way for nothing. My cousin still sleeps, and after yesterday, I don't want to wake her for uninvited guests.”
“Nonsense,” Renata scoffed. She removed her hat and tossed both gloves and hat on the table near the door. “She'll be down before long. We shall wait.”
“Renata, I'm sure Dr. Clemens has better things to do than to—”
“I'll wait.” The bearded man cut Jason short. “Cases like this fascinate me.”
Passage (Soul of the Witch Book 1) Page 23