by Joyce Armor
“I’ve done all I can for her right now.”
“Thank you.” Bodie was sincerely grateful for her treatment. “How much do I owe you?”
“Two dollars or two of Mrs. Glines’s cinnamon rolls,” the doctor smiled.
“I’ll get you three,” the cook beamed and headed out.
Bodie had heard the rumor that the doctor had a trust fund so didn’t worry about making a trade instead of paying cash.
“I don’t recognize the patient, and Mrs. Glines said you don’t either,” Dr. Prudomme said, although she knew he felt some connection with her.
“No. I have no idea what she was doing on my property or what happened to her, other than the fact that someone shot her.”
“You should contact the sheriff.”
“I will when I have time.”
“Would you like me to stop by and inform him when I get back to town?”
“That would be helpful. Thanks, Doc.”
The doctor smoothed out her brown suede riding pants, smiling. Not everyone accepted a female physician, especially one who dared to wear breeches, even in these modern times. For heaven sakes, it was nearing the end of the 19th century. Even many women were against females practicing medicine, as if it were too coarse a field for women’s delicate constitutions. Piffle! To Eleanor’s way of thinking, women made better doctors than many men because they tended to show so much more compassion and empathy to patients. They were willing to listen.
The doctor accompanied Mrs. Glines to the kitchen as Bodie watched the young woman in the bed breathe in and out. She looked beat up, all right, but much better than when he’d found her. Who was she? Was she in trouble? Or was she the trouble herself? Could she be wanted by the law? He had heard of female outlaws, like Belle Starr and Big Nose Kate. Maybe the sheriff would know something. He took one last look at the battered woman and shook his head. He adjusted the quilt covering her and moved a wisp of hair from her cheek. Time would tell.
Supper would not be ready for two or three hours, so Bodie headed out to the barn to saddle up. He knew Mrs. Glines would take good care of the patient. Meanwhile, he’d go back to where he found the woman and look for any clues of how or why she got there and go back to riding his fence line if he had time.
“Is she all right, boss?” Dex looked up from where he was brushing down his horse, a pinto he named Bonita.
Bodie stopped, considering how to answer. “I guess she’s as good as she can be right now. She was shot and has a concussion and a broken wrist. She’s still unconscious.”
“Who would do that to a woman?”
“I hope I don’t find him.” Bodie led Laredo out of his stall and began saddling the stallion. The woman and her circumstances were a mystery, that was for certain. This late in the day, he did not expect the sheriff to show. It was not like the injured woman would be going anywhere for a while. For some reason, that pleased him.
It was easy enough to follow her tracks once he reached the south pasture. It had rained yesterday and much of the land was still wet and muddy. He walked Laredo as he followed her path. She had traveled far, nearly three quarters of a mile, he judged, which amazed him considering her condition. Eventually, he remounted and kept trailing where the prairie grass was tamped down. After backtracking her trail for 15 or 20 minutes, he stared down at a ravine along the tracks of the Union Pacific Railroad. He crossed to the other side of the ravine, where he found no tracks, just a disturbed area of ground that could have been caused by her or by an animal. Could she have fallen or jumped off a train? It did not seem possible; he did not think she could survive such a fall, particularly if she had been shot before she fell. If she fell. It was a mystery, all right. He didn’t particularly like mysteries.
He tracked a ways up and down the ravine, looking for any of her possessions or other clues. Finding only a muddy blue shoe and a small brooch with red stones that could be rubies, but he doubted it, he put them in his saddle bag, mounted and headed back to the fence line. There he spent a couple of hours making repairs. The day’s events were almost enough to make him forget his mother’s upcoming invasion. Not quite, though. He knew that view of her imminent arrival might be unkind. He knew she loved him dearly. He also knew, however, that he would struggle, as always, to feel like the grown man he was when she descended upon him. Her energy force filled the room and threatened to flatten him if he didn’t keep up his guard. He shook his head, sighing. There had to be a way to get her to stop trying to manipulate him and control his life. Words had not worked so far. It was a balancing act to stand his ground but not hurt her. He owed her so much.
Finding a good place to stop, he rolled up the remaining barbed wire, covered it with a heavy cloth and placed it, his gloves, wire cutters and plyers back in his saddle bag, taking care not to disturb the items he had found in the ravine. He told himself he wasn’t anxious to see the lovely young woman lying in one of his guest rooms, knowing even as he had the thought that it was a lie.
Chapter 4
Her head was pounding. She ached all over. Her skin was stinging in numerous places, as if someone had stuck pins in her. Her side smarted with every breath she took. And the scenario had a familiarity to it somehow. Carefully, she tried to sit up. A stabbing pain in her side hurt so badly when she did that, she gasped and quickly collapsed back down. That’s when she noticed she was in a bed, a warm and comfortable bed, with soft sheets and a pretty pink and green quilt. She could see a pine night stand and chair next to the bed and a darker bureau across the room. There was a big brown oval rug near a fireplace, where a cozy fire blazed. She had an odd picture of herself sitting in one of those chairs by the fire, reading. Where was she? What happened to her? Her arm hurt, too. She picked up the covers and looked. Oh, it was splinted. No wonder it hurt. How did that happen? She closed her eyes and thought about it. Nothing came to her. Nothing. She tried again, concentrating harder, which only made her head pound worse. Nothing. She opened her eyes in panic.
What was she wearing? It looked like a big blue shirt. This must be a dream. Or a nightmare. She was so thirsty. And a little bit hungry. She started as a gray-haired, heavy-set woman walked into the room and beamed. She had never quite understood that word until now. The lady’s entire face lit up. She imagined this was what St. Nicholas’s wife looked like, all happy and twinkly. The lady was wearing an apron over a colorful flowered house dress. She looked like she should be sitting in a big chair, with children all around her, reading an enchanting story. Now where did these ideas come from? She must be a creative person if she could weave such an inventive story so quickly.
“You’re awake. That’s wonderful.” The lady rushed over to the bed and sat, latching on to one of the young woman’s hands. “You’re looking better than when Bodie brought you in. At least there’s a little color in your cheeks.”
Bodie? Who was that? She tried to smile but failed miserably, though she felt comforted by the woman’s presence and enthusiasm. “W-water?” She was surprised at the weakness in her voice. Did that mean normally she was a forceful woman? She was a woman, wasn’t she? She looked down and saw her breasts under the blue shirt. Of course she was a woman.
“Here, let me help you sit up a little. I’m Mrs. Glines, by the way.”
She carefully helped the woman sit, noticing the grimace she tried to cover, and placed a couple of pillows behind her to support her back. Good, the woman wasn’t a complainer.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re in pain. We’ll get some willow bark tea down you and that will help, but I’ll give you some water first.”
She poured from a pitcher on the nightstand and handed the patient a tin cup. The woman’s hands shook, and Mrs. Glines steadied the cup, helping her drink. The young woman took several swallows, then handed her back the cup, trying to smile again, but it was more of a grimace. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Glines set the cup on the nightstand and stood. “I’m sure Bodie will have lots of questions when he returns
.”
“Bodie?” she croaked.
“He’s the one who found you and brought you here. This is his ranch, Two Forks.”
“I’m on a ranch?”
Mrs. Glines smiled. “Yes, Bodie brought you in this morning.”
She was on a ranch. Although she did not know why, she did not think she had ever been on a ranch. What did that mean? Was she an Easterner? Or a Southerner? She couldn’t be European. She didn’t think she was Oriental.
The patient looked so confused, compassion welled within the older woman. She patted a battered hand. “Everything will be fine, dearie, don’t you worry. What’s your name, honey? I don’t want to keep calling you ‘dearie.’”
The young woman’s mouth opened as if she were about to say something, but nothing came out. Then she got such a stricken look in her eyes, Mrs. Glines thought she might faint. Finally, she tried to speak. “I…I…I don’t know.”
A single tear slowly made its way down her swollen face. Mrs. Glines sat back down and held the woman’s hand again. “You hit your head and it probably knocked that information right out of it. You just need to rest and relax. I’m sure it will come back to you. Do you remember anything at all about what happened to you?”
The cook could almost see the wheels grinding in her head as she tried to come up with something, with anything. At last she shook her head, her eyes welling with tears. With one last squeeze of her hand, Mrs. Glines rose again.
“Everything will be all right. You’ll see. I’ll go get you that tea. You just rest. Do you want to lie down?”
She nodded and Mrs. Glines removed one of the pillows and helped her settle back down. She had heard of that condition where a body could not remember who they were…ambrosia, no…ambulation…no. Anyway, Harley Cotton had it when he got kicked in the head by a mule. Of course, he died and the family had to sell the ranch, so maybe that wasn’t a helpful comparison. Should they call the doc back? It wasn’t like she could get inside the woman’s head and pull her memories out. The young woman in the bed was a pretty little thing. And so polite, even in her distress. The older woman couldn’t help but notice she was not wearing a wedding ring. Hmmm. She chuckled. Bodie would wring her neck if he could read her mind. At least she could be subtle in her matchmaking, unlike someone’s domineering mother.
* * *
After rolling up his sleeves and washing his face and hands in the mudroom, Bodie strode into the kitchen as he dried off on a towel. The trusty Mrs. Glines was brewing tea and stirring a large pot of beef stew. He could smell her mouthwatering biscuits in the oven. He lifted one lid on the stove to find a vegetable medley steaming. He smiled. Mrs. Glines was a jewel; you could take that to the bank.
“How’s our patient?” he said as casually as he could, tossing the towel into a basket in the mudroom.
Mrs. Glines smiled as she poured the tea into a cup. “She’s awake.”
He grinned. “That’s great.” He started to head off, anxious to hear what she had to say.
Mrs. Glines put a hand on his forearm. “Wait.”
He stopped, dreading what she was about to say. Was the woman a criminal after all? Had she brought danger to his ranch?
“She cannot remember anything. She has am…ambu…”
“…Amnesia?”
“Yes, that’s it. She doesn’t even know her name.”
He felt relief somehow that it was that and not something worse. Then again, maybe she was faking the amnesia. He had heard of cases like that, about people trying to get out of taking responsibility for their bad deeds. He was about to start off again when the cook handed him a cup and saucer with a piece of toast on the side. “Take this tea to her and make sure she drinks it. It will help with the pain.”
He was not a tea drinker himself and always felt like he was from the Land of the Giants when he held a delicate teacup in his hands, but he soldiered on, trying to calm his heartbeat as he ascended the stairs. What was it about this woman, or maybe it was the situation, that had him on edge?
He knocked softly on her bedroom door and got no response. The door was ajar and he quietly walked in. She wasn’t moving in the bed as he approached. She appeared to be sleeping, which gave him a chance to observe her while he placed the teacup on the nightstand. He sat, so she would not find him hovering over her if she awoke. He was relieved to see her steady breathing, in and out. She sure was beaten, bruised, scratched and cut up. One eye had a purple crescent under it and her chin looked a little swollen around the stitches. He remembered her arm was splinted and she had also gotten stitches on one knee. She was scraped and bruised everywhere he could see and no doubt several places he couldn’t see. That thought warmed his blood until he tamped it down.
Her auburn hair was spread out on the pillow, and somehow, battered as she was, she looked stunning. He appreciated a beautiful woman as well as anyone, he supposed, although it wasn’t the most important thing to him. At least it hadn’t been since he had almost proposed to Melinda Cotton, when he had been poleaxed to discover she didn’t give a hoot about him. What a dummy. He would never make that mistake again, believing a woman just because she said something.
The woman in the bed stirred, and slowly her eyes opened. She blinked several times, then her head turned and she saw him. For a moment there was a look of stark terror in her transcendent blue, blue eyes that startled him.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said quickly. He wanted to haul her up into his arms to comfort her, but thought she would probably clout him with her splint. “I’m Bodie Farnham.”
She took a deep breath, trying to gain control on her emotions. “Oh. I’m sorry. I…you just surprised me. Thank you.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“For being so kind. For saving me.”
They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity but must have only been a few seconds before he cleared his throat and picked up the teacup. “Mrs. Glines will have my head if I don’t get this tea down you,” he smiled.
She struggled unsuccessfully to sit up. He set the tea down quickly, sloshing a little of it into the saucer and onto the toast, and helped her.
He had big callused hands, and she was surprised at how gentle he was. With the sleeves of his dark blue chambray shirt rolled up, she could see the muscles of his forearms, which were lightly dusted with dark hair. He was nothing like the effete gentleman she was used to in…where? She didn’t know. Bodie was…”rugged” might be the word she was looking for. And what a man should be, she suddenly realized. And he was possibly the handsomest fellow she had ever seen, although how she would know this since she could not remember ever seeing anyone, she didn’t know. His thick brown hair looked like it was trying to bounce back after holding a cowboy hat all morning. His nose was perfect, not too big, not too little, not too wide, not too thin. He had a hint of stubble on his square chin that made him look somehow more manly. His skin was tanned and practically glowing. He looked so desirable she had to start wondering if she was a wanton. She shuddered involuntarily.
“Are you all right? Are you cold?”
She shook her head.
“Let me help you with the tea.”
He put his hand on her neck and brought the tea cup to her mouth. In his head, he started counting from 100 backwards, anything to not think about her angel-soft skin and kissable lips. She took a couple sips of tea then held up her non-splinted hand. Still, he didn’t move his hand from her velvety neck.
“Can you try to drink a little more? It should help with the pain.”
“All right.”
He smiled and her insides kind of melted. Goodness, he was a handsome man. He helped her drink most of the tea until she finally could drink no more. He set the cup in its saucer and handed her the toast. She thought he would leave then, but he stayed sitting, just looking at her as she nibbled absentmindedly on the toast. She thought she should say something, but for the life of her, she could not think of what it would be. Finally, he
spoke.
“Mrs. Glines says you have no memory of what happened.”
He saw then the fear and panic in her eyes before she tried to cover it. She could not be faking that. So the amnesia was most likely real.
“I…I am trying. It just won’t come.”
“Nothing at all? No snippets of memory of anything?”
“I…I think I remember the pain.” She shook her head, wincing at the discomfort it caused.
He felt compassion for her. She had obviously been through an ordeal. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the brooch he had found and handed it to her.
“Does this look familiar?”
For an instant, something flashed in her brain, a gold ball gown with the brooch at the top of the bodice, disappearing as quickly as it came. “Oh…It’s beautiful,” she said, holding it up to the light. I thought…but no, I do not recognize it. Rubies?”
“I don’t know. It’s probably paste.”
She passed it back to him with a shaking hand, which felt suddenly hot where their fingers touched. “Tell me what happened. Where are we? Where did you find me?”
You’re on my ranch in Wyoming Territory.”
She was shocked. “Wyoming Territory?”
He described how he had come upon her and what he had found when he tracked her back to the ravine.
“A train?”
“The Union Pacific. Do you remember riding on a train?”
She thought about that. “I think I have been on a train. Maybe more than once. I don’t know when, though. Oh, it’s so frustrating.” She clenched her fists and then thought better of it with her right hand, since that hurt. “I feel so…so unanchored and helpless. I hate this.”
He patted her arm, almost mesmerized by her silky skin and then drew his hand back before he did or said something foolish. “I want you to know you’re safe here. We won’t let any harm come to you.”
She gasped. “I didn’t even think of that. Do you think someone is after me?”
