Ophelia

by Charlene Raddon

  “No!” His nostrils flared and he stomped the floor with his foot. “I worked damned hard for everything I got from my mines, and I'm not sharing it with anybody.”

  He grabbed for his gun, but Aubrey, behind him, moved faster, snatching it away. “There'll be no gunplay while I'm around.”

  Mortimer faced the lawman, throwing the papers onto the floor. “You bastard. You wouldn't have a job if it weren't for me. I built this town.”

  In quick, jerky steps, he backed against the wall so no one could get behind him. “You'll never see one red cent from me. I'll see you dead first.”

  “That's a threat,” Aubrey said. “As a lawman, I take death threats very seriously. Maybe I should take you to the jail to cool off for a while.

  “Is there no one in this town loyal to me?” Mortimer screeched. Shoving Owen out of the way, he raced for the door wishing he'd left it open when he came in. The knob twisted under his hand and seconds later he bolted up the alley.

  Brody started after him. Aubrey beat him to the door, saying, “This is my job, Duvall. You stay here in case he comes back.”

  “Yes,” Ophelia said, going to Brody. “Stay with me.”

  He put an arm around her shoulders, and she responded with an arm around his waist.

  “He looked apoplectic,” she said. “I've never seen a face that red before. Aren't you worried he might have a heart attack or do something rash?”

  “If his heart was going to fail him, it would have already. And he's too selfish and conniving to kill himself. He undoubtedly believes he can get out of this mess somehow.”

  “Brody's right.” Owen walked over to retrieve the divorce papers from the floor. “Men like Mortimer Crane always believe they can win.”

  “What happens now?” Ophelia asked, sitting down. Brody moved behind her and rubbed her shoulders.

  “That remains to be seen.” Owen tapped the envelope against his palm. “I'm returning to my office. I'll have these papers delivered to Mortimer's office in Cranesville.”

  After the attorney left, Brody knelt at Ophelia's side. “That was rough on you, I know, sweetheart. Maybe you should go up and rest.”

  “I'm not a wilting hothouse flower, Brody. But I do want to check on Marzda. She hasn't come down, yet, which isn't like her.” She stood, forcing Brody to get to his feet. “Go lock the back door. We don't want anyone else sneaking up on us like Mortimer did.”

  “I will. Then I'll watch the desk until Angie returns.”

  “All right.”

  He watched her climb the stairs until she'd reached the top. Before he could return to the kitchen, a guest in to register. As Brody waiting for the man, Mr. Ackerman, to sign the book, he couldn't stop thinking of that unlocked door. After accepting his key, Ackerman asked for suggestions for where to eat in town and how to find the location where the wagon would pick him up for the trip to the springs in the morning.

  Brody's frustration grew with each question and each delay, yet he maintained his smile and swallowed his ire.

  He grabbed a piece of paper and drew a map to show the guest where to find the places he needed to reach. Akerman turned into a chatterbox, talking about the beauty of the scenery and asking what happened to the mine on Moose Mountain.

  Finally, Akerman left and Brody hurried into the kitchen. Three feet into the room, he came to an abrupt halt. Mortimer stood by the open rear entrance; a six-gun aimed at Brody's chest. Through the open back door, two horses could be seen waiting.

  Brody cursed silently. His heart skipped a beat and a sinking sensation filled his belly. He should've locked the door sooner. Too hell with new guests. Brody's neglect had put Ophelia in danger. He debated going for his gun but knew it for a foolish move. Before he could get it out of his holster, Mortimer would already have pulled the trigger.

  “What do you want now, Mortimer?” he asked, stalling for time.

  “You're coming with me, Deuce.” Mortimer motioned with the gun for Brody to go outside. “Come quietly, or I'll kill that rotten wife of mine and make you watch.”

  Marzda lay shivering in bed, her face the same shade as the sheet she had pulled up to her chin.

  “Honey, what is it?” Ophelia rushed to the bed. “Are you ill?”

  “I can't get warm and my nose is running.”

  Ophelia placed a hand on the girl's forehead and found it uncommonly warm. “You have a cold. I'll send Brody for Dr. Spense.”

  Ophelia hurried to the wardrobe for an extra blanket which she spread over the patient. “I'll be right back. Would you like some hot oatmeal or tea?”

  Marzda shook her head. “I'm not hungry.”

  Ophelia ran down the stairs. Brody wasn't at the check-in desk.

  She peeked into his office, saw he wasn't there and went to the kitchen. The back door he had promised to lock stood wide open. Cautiously, she looked outside. He was gone.

  Returning inside, she noticed a piece of paper on the table. She picked it up and read, Come to Cranesville on today's train and bring a document giving me back my property, all of it, or I'll kill this no-good snake you think you're in love with. Come alone. Mortimer.

  “No!” Without a second thought she picked up her skirts and ran to the jail.

  “Cordelia! Mortimer's kidnapped Brody. Where's Aubrey?”

  “He came back about ten minutes ago to get his horse to look for Mortimer.” Cordelia stood up from the desk. “How long ago did this happen?”

  “Within the last ten minutes. I went up to check on Marzda. She's taken a chill. When I came back down, Brody was gone, and I found this on the table.” She handed her the note.

  After reading it, Cordelia reached for her hat. “I'll leave right now. Maybe I can catch them or find Aubrey. We'll hunt Mortimer down, I promise.”

  “Thank you, Cordelia.”

  After the deputy rode away, Ophelia ran to fetch the doctor. Mrs. Spense promised to send him to the hotel as soon as he finished with his current patient.

  Back at the hotel, Ophelia went straight to Marzda's room.

  “Do you think that man will hurt Brody?” The girl broke into tears on hearing the news. “Why did you marry someone so horrible?”

  “I didn't know how awful he was when I married him.” Ophelia tucked the covers more snugly around the girl's body. “He was good to me at first, and I think he loved me then. But nothing in life seems to stay the same for long, especially with people.”

  “I'm never getting married. Men are cruel.”

  “Don't think that way, Marzda.” Ophelia drew her close, wiping away the girl's tears with her hanky, then giving it to her to blow her nose. “You'll never find love or happiness if you make up your mind it doesn't exist. I shouldn't have married Mortimer, but not because he was a bad man. I didn't love him and that was the mistake I made. Someday, when you're older, a man will come along, and you'll realize love is worth fighting for.”

  “Are you going to fight for Brody's love?”

  “Definitely.”

  Dr. Spense knocked on the door, though it stood open. “We have a sick girl, do we?”

  “Yes. She's shivering and I think she has a fever,” Ophelia said.

  “Hi, Doctor Spense,” Marzda greeted him.

  He came into the room and went about examining her. “I believe all that's wrong with you, young lady, is that you've taken a chill. Stay warm, get lots of liquids and if the symptoms get worse, send for me.”

  “Thank you,” Ophelia said.

  “Certainly. Have to look after these young'uns. How are you doing after your ordeal on Saturday?”

  “Oh, I'm fine. I've put it out of my mind.”

  “Good. I'll be going then. Have a patient expecting to deliver a baby any time now.”

  Ophelia walked downstairs with him and saw him out.

  As he left, Angie returned with the supplies she'd gone to fetch. “What's going on?”

  “Oh, Angie. So much.” Ophelia helped her carry the packages into the kitch
en while she related the news about Brody's kidnapping and Marzda's illness. “What more is going to go wrong?”

  “Relax, Ophelia. Leave the child to me. You have enough on your mind.”

  “Thank you, Angie.”

  Angie walked into the lobby. “Look,” she called back. “The marshal is coming.”

  “Thank heaven.” Ophelia rushed toward the entry, slowing when she saw he was alone.

  She went out and waited for him to dismount from his horse.

  “I'm sorry, Ophelia,” he said, without getting down. “Cordelia told me what happened. I didn't see hide nor hair of either Mortimer or Brody. I did find tracks on the road to Cranesville, but that's out of my jurisdiction so I came back. I'll wire the marshal there and alert him to watch for them.”

  With her hands fisted and pressed to her heart, Ophelia fought to keep her tears inside. “Thank you, Aubrey.”

  He tipped his hat. “Let me know if you hear anything more from Mortimer. Are you going to do as he asked?”

  “I don't see as I have any choice.”

  “Well, I suppose you'll be talking to Owen. He's the best one to advise you about this. I'd hate to see you be the one to take the papers to Mortimer though. Keep me advised, all right?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  He turned his horse and rode toward the jail.

  Angie stood outside the door, eyes worried, mouth grim.

  “I have to go talk to Owen Vaile about the documents Mortimer is demanding,” Ophelia said. “I want to get this over with and bring Brody home.”

  If he's still alive.

  Owen stood when Ophelia entered his office. “What is it? You look mighty grim.”

  She handed him Mortimer's note.

  “Well, I'm not surprised,” he said after reading the message. “What do you want to do?”

  Her eyes remained dry, but inside, her heart ripped in half. “Draw up the papers and I'll take them to him. I won't let him hurt Brody again.”

  Owen studied her. “You realize he might have already had Brody killed. He might have you both killed once you give him what he wants.”

  “I know. What else can I do?” As much as she hated to let Mortimer win, she couldn't risk allowing Brody to be hurt.

  Owen went to the window, staring outside as if the answer lay in the rutted street. Shaking his head, he returned to the desk. “I wish I knew.”

  “How long will it take to draw up the papers?”

  “I can have them ready tomorrow morning.”

  “Do it, then.” She turned and left the office, her arms wrapped around herself as if it could protect her against more pain.

  Up on the hill, twin fawns frolicked while their mother grazed in the sunlight. Ophelia watched for a few moments, her heart too heavy to truly enjoy the sight, then walked on, tears raining down her face.

  Why was Mortimer always allowed to win? Why didn't God punish him for his sins? Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord. Oh, but she wanted her own vengeance. She wanted to see him suffer. Did that make her a bad person? Would she be condemned to hell for having such evil thoughts?

  She answered her own questions, knowing everyone would receive what they deserved in the Lord's own time and in his own way.

  At the hotel, she went straight upstairs to look in on Marzda. Angie had been at the desk but reported that she'd just checked on the girl and she was feeling better. Ophelia silently thanked the Lord. She had more on her hands right now than she felt capable of handling, though she knew she would. She had to.

  “What are you going to do?” Marzda asked.

  “I've told Owen to do whatever he needs to do to comply with Mortimer's demands. This afternoon, when the train comes, I'll go to Cranesville, give the papers to Mort and bring Brody home. Then we'll decide what to do next. We'll need to leave Wildcat Ridge, I'm afraid. Will you mind that?”

  “Not as long as I can be with you and Brody.”

  “Good.” Ophelia faked a smile and patted the girl's hand before standing. “I'm going to get ready for the trip.”

  “Please, be careful,” Marzda pleaded. “I don't trust that husband of yours.”

  “Neither do I, honey.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You have the document finished?” Ophelia asked when Owen entered the hotel.

  “Yes.” He held up a briefcase. “Right in here. The train will arrive soon. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, more than prepared to bring Brody home but not for the rest of her mission. Terror over how everything might turn out had her skin clammy and her muscles so tense she could barely move them.

  “Good. I'd feel much better if I could go with you.”

  An almost hysterical laugh erupted from her throat. “Oh, Owen, so would I.”

  She forced a smile. Never had she dreaded a journey more. Not only had she no desire to see Mortimer ever again, she felt no interest in seeing Cranesville. Only for Brody's sake would she go through this ordeal. Lifting her skirts, she trailed Owen out the door.

  At the corner of Lilac Avenue, Hester joined them, taking hold of Ophelia's hand. “I'm going along to see you off,” she said.

  To see how many people came from their establishments to wave goodbye shocked Ophelia. It was true—you can't keep a secret in a small town. She didn't know how word of Brody's abduction and her trip to pay his ransom had spread through Wildcat Ridge, but obviously it had. Touched to realize they cared, Ophelia waved to them, her eyes blurred.

  “Good luck,” Garnet called out from the Crystal Café's doorway. In the distance a train's horn blasted.

  Ophelia nodded in response, doubting she could speak intelligibly. A large lump filled her throat, her breath raspy. She had only lived in the town a month but already she loved it and its residents. She would hate leaving here.

  They had just reached the depot when the train chugged up alongside the loading platform.

  “Are you going to be all right?” Owen asked as he helped her up the steps onto the platform.

  As right as a prisoner climbing a scaffold.

  “I'll be fine, Owen. Thank you again.”

  Being an ore train, it had only one half-empty passenger car. To get the locomotive to stop in Wildcat Ridge, they'd had to wire a request to the stationmaster in Evanston and hang a red flag from the depot.

  She thought of her last train ride when she'd arrived at Wildcat Ridge with such hope in her heart for a new and better life. She remembered her confusion on seeing Brody that day, and for the first time, allowed herself to accept that a part of her had known instantly who he was.

  The overwhelming joy that had burst into her heart terrified her. She was married. Nothing could come from having him back in her life. Better to block his existence from her mind.

  After all, it couldn't truly be him.

  Trees, meadows, and more trees slid past the windows. Birds flying as if racing the train. Deer fleeing the noisy monster.

  Would she ever see Wildcat Ridge again?

  What if Brody was already dead?

  Thoughts that could drive her insane if she let them.

  The stop at Curdy's Crossing lasted longer than she liked. She disembarked and drank coffee while more ore was loaded onto the cars. Finally, they were on their way again.

  The noise of the locomotive and the wheels rattling along the tracks didn't help Ophelia's nerves. The closer they came to their destination, the faster her heart pumped. To keep her hands still, she gripped her purse tightly in her lap.

  Brody, oh, Brody, we're coming to bring you home. Please be all right.

  Cranesville looked small compared to Wildcat Ridge. Tents and thrown-together cabins surrounded the town still and canvas and wood structures held many of the businesses.

  As they reached the edge of town, Ophelia noticed a charming white church with a house close by, stolen, no doubt, from Wildcat Ridge. In the center of town over a hundred yards away, a crowd cheered and shouted whil
e a man on a wooden platform juggled five fist-sized balls. The air carried the atmosphere of a carnival.

  As soon as she left the train, she'd go to the marshal's office and ask for help.

  The unattended depot amounted to little more than a loading dock. Railroad cars full of gold ore waited on a side-track where the engineer and brakeman busily worked to hook them on between the passenger car and the caboose. One man waited on the platform, his hands in the pants of his checkered suit, the usual cigar sticking out of his mouth.

  Mortimer.

  Brody's fingers bled from trying to undo the knot on the rough hemp rope binding him to a chair in Mortimer's mine office. Behind him, his hands were also tied, making the work even more difficult. The gag in his mouth tasted like dirty socks, making him a little ill. Outside, a weasel-like man called Nails stood guard on the porch, the typical type of bully Mortimer liked to have around him. Brody watched him through the window.

  If only Brody could reach his gun, lying on a table across the room. He had to get free and protect Ophelia. He'd prayed she'd ignore her husband's demands and stay in Wildcat Ridge, but he knew her too well to believe she'd do that. She would arrive at any time.

  At some point before this ended, Mortimer would kill him—he had no doubt of that. What worried him the most was that the rotten skunk might kill Ophelia as well.

  Brody's hands sweated as he labored, adding to the struggle of his task. More sweat trickled down his temples and onto his neck. Inside, his queasy stomach churned, and his pulse raced. At all costs, he had to prevent anything happening to Ophelia.

  Outside, Nails stood up, facing the road. The rumble of buggy wheels on the dirt road sounded.

  They were here. Brody's heart pumped faster, and he increased his painful efforts to free himself.

  Boots sounded on the slat porch. Skirts swished. The door opened, and there she stood—looking beautiful and terrified—until Mortimer shoved her inside. She ran straight to Brody.

  “Thank the Lord you're alive. I was so frightened.”