Nell held out her hand, then turned away when she caught a whiff of the perfume, which smelled like something a sporting girl would wear. “It’s certainly not my cologne,” she said. She used only a little toilet water, and it had a rose scent. She held her breath and raised the handkerchief to her eyes to see it better in the dark. “But it is my handkerchief! I embroidered it myself. Where did you get it?”
“Like I say, it was in my husband’s pocket.” The woman gave Nell a stern look. “You better watch your step, miss. It won’t do to go after a married man. He won’t be stepping out with the likes of a gad-a-way like you.”
The woman stomped off, her husband behind her, protesting, “Now, Mother, I don’t know where that came from. I’ve never saw it before.”
Nell hurried toward the ranch house, where she ran into Lucy. “The strangest thing happened. See that man over there,” she began.
But just then, Mr. Archer put on his coat and reached into his pocket to take out his gloves. Instead, he pulled out a white handkerchief that stank of perfume. “What’s this?” he asked.
“Oh, my lord!” Nell said, putting her hands to her face. “Somebody’s put one of my handkerchiefs with that awful-smelling perfume into your pocket, too. The handkerchief is mine, but that’s not my scent. I don’t know how it got there.”
Before they left, a third man approached Nell and said, “Miss Nell, is this yours? I am flattered as all get-out, but I’m thinking I’m too old for you.” He held out a handkerchief.
“Looks like somebody’s been pirooting around,” Buddy said behind her. Nell turned and saw him exchanging a smirk with Wendell.
She grabbed the handkerchief from the man and threw it at Buddy. “You! I thought you weren’t going to play any jokes,” she fumed. “You took my handkerchiefs—you went into my room and stole them—and … and soaked them in that horrid perfume and put them into men’s pockets.”
“Why, I thought you’d be pleased. It’s a real nice way to meet folks.”
“To have them think I’m a fast woman, you mean. This is just awful. Awful!” Nell wasn’t sure whether she was angry because of the joke or because she’d begun to think that Buddy was sweet on her.
She turned to Lucy, who glared at Buddy. It was Mr. Archer who spoke, however. “What did you think you were doing, son? Were you planning to spoil Miss Nell’s reputation?” He turned. “And you, Wendell? I am surprised. You boys are a pair of crockheads.”
The two hands looked down. “It was only a joke,” Buddy said.
Lucy asked Nell how many handkerchiefs she had.
“Twelve.”
“And you took all of them?” Lucy asked Buddy.
He gave a slight nod.
“I guess you two cowboys have some apologizing to do,” Mr. Archer told them.
“Yes, sir,” Buddy said. He glanced at Wendell, and the corners of his mouth went up a little. “I’m sorry, Miss Nell,” he said. Wendell muttered a second apology.
Nell started to protest, but Lucy touched Nell’s arm, and she fell silent. Later on, Lucy told her, “I know it’s rotten, but it was a joke. And a pretty clever one at that. It reminds me of a little boy who dips a girl’s braid into an inkwell to show he likes her. Maybe it’s some special cowboy’s way to get your attention. Whatever it is, if you want to get along out here, you have to learn to take it. The ranch needs cowboys more than it does a hired girl.”
* * *
Over the next few days, half a dozen handkerchiefs turned up, all of them perfume-soaked. One man rode ten miles to call on Nell, and a woman in a store in Las Vegas all but slapped her before Nell explained that one of the Rockin’ A hands had played a joke on her.
“Oh, well, I understand, then,” the woman said. “Still, you keep away from my husband just the same.”
Nell had recovered nine of the twelve handkerchiefs and wondered what had happened to the others. It was understood among the hands that this might have been the greatest practical joke Buddy had ever pulled.
Buddy tried to make it up to Nell, complimenting her on her cooking, opening the door for her when she carried the wash basket outside, even offering to help her hang the laundry, which Nell told her was a comedown for a cowboy. But she would have none of it.
“I believe he’s stuck on you,” Lucy said.
“What of it?” Nell was hurt that she had opened her heart to the cowboy and he had tricked her. “I don’t like him,” she told Lucy, who only rolled her eyes.
* * *
Nell did like Willy Burden, however. She liked that he was sweet on Martha, his girl in Albuquerque, and never seemed to mind that the other hands teased him about it. “After payday, I’ll never see you buzzards again,” he told them. Nell kept her promise, and one day when Wendell drove her into town for supplies, she went into the jewelry store with him to pick out a ring. “Solid gold,” she told him. “You can buy cheaper, but fifty years from now, you don’t want a ring that’s got the gold worn off.”
The ring cost seven dollars, more than he’d planned to spend, but Willy said that with his next pay, he’d still have more than the hundred dollars he needed to file for a homestead and set up housekeeping. Nell knew that Mr. Archer was going to give Willy an extra twenty-five dollars as a wedding present. She and Lucy had already presented him with a wedding shirt they’d made, and Nell had embroidered Willy’s initials on the pocket. He’d tried it on for size and grinned and said he’d never felt so bugged up in his life.
A few days later, Willy was late for breakfast. When he came into the kitchen, he looked crestfallen. “I lost my wallet,” he said. “I lost my wallet, and it had near a hundred dollars in it.”
The cowboys stopped eating and stared. “You trying to get out of marrying, Willy?” one asked.
The others laughed a little, hoping this was a joke, for Willy was well liked.
“It ain’t a joke. I went to get it this morning, and it’s gone. I looked all through my trunk, even took out the bottom of it, and I gone through my clothes and everything, but it’s gone.”
This was a serious matter. “You think somebody took it?” Mr. Archer asked.
“No, sir, I can’t say as I do. I think I must have lost it. Last time I remember it was when I went to town with Miss Nell.”
The cowboys turned to Nell, who blanched, but Lucy stepped in. “You all know Miss Nell don’t steal, so you can just forget about her.”
“Is it in the wagon?” Nell asked.
“I looked all through it, and it ain’t there neither.”
“I’ll check the groceries. Maybe it got caught in with the flour or the sugar.”
Lucy took over the serving while Nell searched the larder. She and Willy spent an hour taking out all the cans and bags of potatoes and beans, sugar and flour. But the wallet wasn’t to be found. “You must have left it at the store. Or maybe somebody found it in the street and turned it over to the sheriff,” she said. “You want me to go into town and see if it’s turned up?”
Willy said he’d go. He was away most of the day, and when Nell saw him ride into the corral later, she knew from the way his shoulders drooped he hadn’t found his money.
She went to the corral and watched Willy unsaddle his horse. After a time, he glanced up at her and shook his head. “I guess I’m not getting married.”
“She’ll wait,” Nell said. “She’ll be disappointed, but she’ll wait.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, but he didn’t sound as if he believed it. “There’s another fellow been telling her I ain’t the marrying type.”
“If she loves you, she’ll believe you. If you’d like, I’ll write her a letter.”
Willy looked up from the bridle in his hands. “Would you, ma’am? I’d sure appreciate that.” But Nell could tell by the way he slunk off to the bunkhouse that he didn’t believe a letter would do much good. She didn’t either.
CHAPTER FOUR
Nell had gone to the chicken yard with a hatchet, to catch the old r
ooster. They would have chicken and dumplings for dinner. But as if the rooster knew what Nell had in mind, he took off, skittering across the yard toward the bunkhouse. The bunkhouse was all-male territory, but she had to catch that bird. The rooster scooted through the door ahead of Nell, and she stopped when she reached the doorway, not sure she should enter the cowboys’ domain.
She hadn’t been inside the bunkhouse before, and as she let her eyes adjust to the dim interior, she took in the row of bunk beds. Some were made up; the sugans, as the cowboys called their quilts, were smooth. Others were rumpled. She glanced around at prints of Indian fights and dogs playing poker and the magazine pictures of all-but-naked women, pinned to the walls. Scattered among them were cartes de visite of mothers and sweethearts, and provocative shots of scantily clad hookers. The prostitutes in Las Vegas sold such pictures to their clients. Tobacco sacks and decks of cards and dime novels were thrown about, along with one or two Bibles and what the cowboys themselves called bibles—packages of cigarette papers. Small trunks were shoved under the beds or placed against the ends of the bunks.
As she took a step into the bunkhouse, Nell spotted Buddy in the middle of the room, and she almost backed out. Would he think she’d seen him go into the bunkhouse and followed him? Her face burned at the idea, although Buddy hadn’t seen her, because he was deep in conversation with another Rockin’ A hand, Charlie Potter. She could slip back outside, and the men would never know she’d been there, but she had to get that rooster. Besides, she’d caught a few words between the two and was curious. Nell knew Charlie, of course, but not well. He generally gulped his food and left as soon as he was finished eating, barely exchanging a word with her or the other boys. He was surly and didn’t seem to have friends among the cowboys. Now he was squatting beside an open locker, looking up at Buddy, red-eyed angry.
Neither man saw her.
“I asked what you’re doing in here,” Buddy said. “You were supposed to be with Gus, rounding up those cows over toward the mountains.”
“I’m laid up. Must be something I ate.”
“I ate the same thing you did, and I’m fine. You been on a spree, looks like to me.”
“I reckon I was. Must have got hold of a bad batch of busthead.”
“And you’re still drinking it.” Buddy pointed to a half-empty pint bottle lying on a nearby bunk. “Mr. Archer won’t like it, you having liquor in here. Best you get rid of it before he finds out.”
“Yeah, and who are you to tell me what to do? You think you’re the whole herd. I expect you’re going to tell him, just ’cause you’re sweet on that chippie.”
Nell raised her chin a bit. What did she care that Buddy had a girl somewhere?
“You watch what you say about Miss Nell.” Buddy raised a fist.
Nell’s mouth dropped open. Were they talking about her? Was Buddy really sweet on her? Had Lucy been right when she’d said Buddy had played tricks on her just to get her attention?
“I seen you watching her, trying to get her to look kindly on you. She ain’t much of nothing.”
“You shut your mouth, cowboy. I’m not fooling around with Miss Nell. She’s a lady. You take it—” Buddy stopped because he’d glanced at the floor. He looked up at Charlie. “I don’t believe that’s your trunk you’re going through.”
“No? Well, ain’t that a dinger!”
“It appears it’s Rafael’s trunk, and you got his do-funny in your hand. That isn’t yours either.” The two men stared at a tiny silver statue of a saint that Charlie was holding. “Rafael sure would be sorry to lose that.”
“Mind your business.” Charlie spat a mouthful of tobacco juice on the floor, splattering it on Buddy’s boot.
“Maybe somebody going through the wrong locker is my business. I had a silver pocket watch that disappeared. I never did understand it. Now that I think on it, there’s other things that’s got lost, too. I heard the boys complain about it. I wonder if maybe they’ll turn up in your trunk.”
“You accusing me of something, maybe saying I’m a thief?”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
Charlie glared at Buddy. “I could kill you for that.”
Nell wondered if she should sneak away. This was between the two men, and neither one would be pleased that she was eavesdropping. She should tell Lucy what was going on. It would be up to Lucy whether to tell Mr. Archer. Still, she stayed where she was. She didn’t want to leave Buddy to face Charlie by himself.
“I’m just asking for a look,” Buddy said. “Be easy enough to settle if I just have a look in your trunk.”
“Well, you can go to hell. I’ll tell Mr. Archer myself, tell him you was going through my locker. Who’s to say you aren’t the thief.”
“I believe he trusts me.”
“Oh, so you do think you’re something. I can talk a pretty good piece myself. There’s nobody to speak up for you.”
“I will,” Nell blurted out, then put her hand over her mouth. She should have kept still. Now the two men knew she was there, and Buddy would think she’d been snooping. Nobody liked a snoop.
Charlie whirled around. “This is men’s territory. Ladies ain’t supposed to be in the bunkhouse. Mr. Archer won’t like it. You get now.”
“Roosters aren’t supposed to be here either. I just came to fetch that old bird. I’ll leave in a minute, but I’m kind of curious myself about what’s in your trunk,” Nell said, feeling brave as long as Buddy was there. Since the men knew she’d been listening, she might as well find out if Charlie was a thief.
“Let’s have a look, then,” Buddy said.
“I ain’t got the key.”
“Then I’ll shoot off the lock.” While Charlie was talking to Nell, Buddy had removed his gun from his holster, and now he moved a little so that Charlie could see it.
Charlie shrugged. “You going to put me out of business, are you?”
“I intend to shoot that lock if you don’t open it.”
Charlie took a few steps toward Nell, Buddy behind him, and stopped at the unmade bed where the bottle of whiskey lay. The rooster had made itself at home next to it. Shoving the bird onto the floor, Charlie took a key out of his pocket and unlocked the trunk. He started to open it, but Buddy told him to step back. “Miss Nell, would you look inside? I kind of have a feeling there might be a gun in there somewheres.”
Buddy was right. A loaded gun lay on top of a pile of dirty clothing. Nell took it out and set it on a bunk behind her, out of Charlie’s reach. Then she removed the clothes, two dog-eared Police Gazettes, and a bunch of what Buddy had called do-funnies—trinkets. The trunk was empty, and she frowned. Something didn’t seem right. She knelt down and peered into the locker, then felt the inside. “I think there’s a false bottom,” she said. She pried up a piece of cardboard that had been cut to fit inside the trunk. Beneath it lay a jackknife, a silver pocket watch, a lady’s ring, a gold watch fob shaped like a bull, a collection of odds and ends, and a pair of woman’s bloomers. Nell blushed when she saw the undergarment, glad it wasn’t hers. She pushed it aside and discovered a wallet. “This is Willy’s! I saw it at the mercantile when he bought his girl’s ring,” she said. She looked inside. “It’s empty. Willy had almost a hundred dollars in it when he was at the store.”
“I found it,” Charlie said.
“Sure you did.” Buddy glared at the cowboy. “And I just bet you’ll say it was empty then, won’t you? When were you going to give it back to Willy?”
“I forgot about it. You know I ain’t much for remembering. You recollect that time—”
Buddy gestured at the items in the trunk with his gun. “You forget to tell me you found my watch, too? And I believe you must have forgot to tell Wendell about his knife. You sure are something at disrememberin’.”
“You know me—”
“Yeah, I know you. You’re a thief, and a pretty low one to steal from your own pards.”
The remark riled Charlie, who took a step for
ward, stopping only when Buddy aimed the gun at him. “You can’t call me that. I’ve killed men for less.”
“I bet you have, shot them in the back most likely.”
“Where’s Willy’s money?” Nell spoke up.
“Yeah, I’d like to know that, too. Best turn out your pockets, Charlie.”
Charlie did as he was told, but his pockets held only a few coins.
“There isn’t any money in his trunk,” Nell said. “Do you think he hid it?”
“Most likely, he gambled it away in some Las Vegas bucket of blood,” Buddy told her. “He’s got the reputation of a rotten gambler.”
“You got a leaky mouth,” Charlie said.
“And you got a lying one. Where’d you lose it?”
“I didn’t have no chance. It was a fixed game. They was cheaters, all of ’em. They didn’t leave me with even a cartwheel.” Charlie suddenly brightened. “I didn’t steal nothing. I was planning on doubling Willy’s money for him. Now, wouldn’t that have been a nice little surprise?”
“You damn fool! You think I believe that?” Buddy said. “Did you plan on doubling my watch, too, and Wendell’s pocketknife?”
“I’ll make it up to Willy. I’ll pay him back.”
“And how’ll you do that?” Buddy sneered.
“Out of my wages. I swear.”
“That’ll be fine,” Buddy said, and Nell wondered for a moment if he was going to let Charlie off. She’d heard about frontier justice where men, not the law, made decisions about how to punish criminals. Maybe if Charlie paid Willy back, everything would be all right.
“So we’re okay on that. I sure do appreciate it,” Charlie said.
“No, we’re not okay,” Buddy told him. “You can mail Willy’s money to him. You get your bedroll now and your horse, and you get out. I want you gone right now.”
The Patchwork Bride Page 4