by Carol Arens
Light penetrated Missy's closed eyes. The storm must be right on top of her for the lightning to appear so bright. She tried to open her lids but they felt like raw steaks dredged in sand.
Instead of thunder she heard the rustle of fabric, like a starched skirt, maybe a stiff petticoat...and a snort.
With the greatest effort she cracked her eyes open for half a second and saw a woman standing in the corner of a room holding a piece of paper in her hands. Oddly, it looked like a wanted poster.
What on earth? Where was she and how had she gotten here? The last Missy remembered was digging her fingers into Ace's mane and holding on for dear life, desperate to find...
"Zane?" Her voice clogged in her throat with all the clarity of mud. The effort of whispering his name made her feel as if she had competed in an uphill race and come in last.
Footsteps clicked across a wood floor. She forced her eyes open, calling on the pitiful bit of strength that she had.
The woman stood at the foot of the bed, frowning...no, wait, smirking?
Well, she was in a bed, that much she knew. If she had gotten to a place of shelter, maybe Zane was the one who'd brought her here.
"Zane?" she managed again.
The woman at the foot of the bed was very definitely smirking and...staring at Missy's chest?
"Gone," she stated, and Missy didn't know another thing until she woke again in the dark and found a man sitting beside her bed reading a dime novel by candlelight.
He laughed at something and shook his head. Fair brown hair that seemed to carry a dose of sunshine in it flopped over his brow. He skimmed it back, revealing cheerful brown eyes.
He squinted, reading by candlelight.
"I think you might like this one." With his eyes tracking the words, he tapped one finger on the page. "It's all about a bounty hunter who comes face-to-face with--"
"His mother's image on a wanted poster," she mumbled.
"Well, now!" The smiling man set aside the book and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "Welcome back, Mrs. Coldridge, you gave us quite a scare."
Mrs. Coldridge? My word, she must have missed some important events since the storm, like her own wedding.
"My...husband?"
"He brought you here, yesterday noonish."
Praise be, they were safe, both of them alive. She closed her eyes while relief washed over her. Once again she heard the scratching of a stiff skirt.
She opened her eyes to see the starch-like woman standing in the doorway.
"I'm the Reverend Raymond Gilroy and this is my sister, Hortense Gilroy. We are pleased to have you staying with us."
Clearly, the reverend was pleased. Welcome shone in his smile and genuine hospitality warmed his eyes. His sister looked as though a rodent had just scurried across the room.
"I don't know how I can thank you, Reverend. I don't remember anything since the storm."
"You wouldn't, you've been out since your husband found you unconscious and brought you here."
Not married, then. Zane would have said they were for appearances' sake.
"Is he hurt?" She turned her head to look for him--surely he would be at her side if he weren't--but the simple motion made it feel as though rocks were rolling around in her brain.
"Lie back, now." The reverend touched her shoulder. "You've been through an ordeal and need your rest. Hortense, bring Mrs. Coldridge some of that broth, if you will?"
Hortense answered with a frown, but she turned with a snap of petticoats and marched from the room.
"Don't worry about Zane, he's not hurt, but plenty worried. We all were."
"Where is he?"
"On a fool's errand, if you ask me," Hortense mumbled, coming back with the cup of broth. "Of course, no one would...ask me, that is."
"Thank you, Hortense, I'll help Mrs. Coldridge." He looked at his sister, his eyes alight with brotherly mischief. "I'm sure you've got a kitten to torture or a puppy to drown."
Raymond Gilroy lifted Missy's head and put the cup to her lips.
"Please forgive Hortense," he said. "Our puppies and kittens are perfectly safe. Sometimes I like to see if I can surprise a smile out of her."
After she finished the broth he lowered her head to the pillow.
"We were all worried about you. The doctor told Zane to think of things that were important to you. He read you books, but in the end he went after your little dog. He didn't want to leave but nothing was bringing you around."
"Muff!" How he must be suffering. Wesley Wage would be more likely to abandon him than care for him.
"There now, don't cry." He took her hands and wrapped his big ones around them. "Let's say a prayer together for their safe return."
While the reverend talked with God about keeping Muff safe on the open land, she prayed with him that He would return both future husband and pup to her unharmed.
* * *
In Missy's estimation, the reason for Hortense Gilmore's foul disposition was clear. Each morning the woman put on clothes that were scratchy, stiff and utterly suffocating.
With spring in full bloom, who wouldn't be driven to distraction by the high-necked garments of drab wool? Mercy, but it seemed that everything the unfortunate Hortense owned displayed various shades of gray.
Sitting on the front-porch rocker with a bowl of snap peas in her lap, Missy decided she could easily smother in the charcoal-colored threads of the borrowed gown she wore.
Snap a pea at one end, peel off the string, snap the other end. Watch, snap and watch again for Zane's return. That had been her occupation for the last couple of days. Raymond must have plucked every pea from his lovely garden just to give her something to do.
Hortense turned the corner of the house, carrying a pail full of water. She passed in front of one of the prettiest flower borders Missy had ever seen. Red hollyhock and blue delphinium made the dress she wore look even more depressing. How could the wearer of such a frock help but be anything but downcast?
But wait! If she wasn't mistaken, Hortense smiled as she dribbled water onto the flowers.
"Your flowers are beautiful, Miss Gilroy," she called out. "You must have a knack for growing them."
Hortense jumped, most certainly startled. She dumped out the rest of the water, drowning one small purple posy just poking its head above the soil. She glanced toward the porch with her customary frown. Missy was sure she saw a kitten dash for cover.
"What I have is a chore. It's my dear little brother who sets out all these...weeds then expects me to care for them."
"Just the same, they are lovely."
"Humph!" Hortense dropped the bucket. She mounted the stairs with her back stiff. "Water and weed, and all for what? The whores and sinners to enjoy?"
"Your brother seems like a wonderful man." Missy tasted a pea. The flavor was as sweet as Hortense was sour.
"I suppose he--" She shook her head, folded her hands primly at her waist. "Wonderful doesn't stick his sister out in the middle of nowhere with only jackrabbits for company."
Clearly, Hortense needed companionship. A trip to town would be just the thing. New clothes might cheer her, something cooler with a dash of froth and color.
"Hortense, we should make a trip to Dewton, the two of us. We could shop for summer gowns."
"And give up your perch here on the porch?" She sniffed and looked down her nose.
"After Zane returns, naturally." Missy wasn't about to budge from her perch until her man and her dog rode into the yard.
"It's been two days or more. Really, how long do you think it takes to find a dog, or its corpse? That man is gone. He's stolen what he wants from you and now...well, now he..." She reached in the pocket of her dress and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. "He isn't coming back. They never do."
With a flick of her wrist she unfolded the paper and dropped it. The broadsheet drifted onto the bowl of snap peas. Missy gasped at her likeness staring up at her.
"This fell out of his bel
ongings. I guess he was in such a hurry to get away and collect that reward he didn't notice."
"If he was in a hurry, it was to find Muff." What the bitter Hortense didn't know is that Muff wasn't lost on the prairie. It would take Zane a good long while to rescue him from Wage.
"Tell yourself that, then, Miss Devlin. But in the long run it will hurt all the more."
"Not all men are like the one who hurt you, Hortense."
Missy scanned the wanted poster, reading and rereading what her brother had posted. She ought to be angry for his interference in her life, but instead, her heart swelled with affection. In spite of what he had to believe was another one of her follies, he had posted a huge amount of money to see her safely home.
"Men are what they are." Hortense stared down at her, surely not aware that the lines tugging the corners of her mouth spoke of secret pain. "Name one who isn't a liar to his core."
"Zane Coldridge for one, my brother and yours."
"I don't know your brother, but I do know mine." Even though Hortense looked at her with venom, Missy wasn't sure that her intention was to cause pain so much as to express her own. "Your...whatever that man is to you...lied when he claimed you were his wife and lied again when he lit out of here. It's been time and enough to find that dog."
Hortense Gilroy crossed her arms over her cinched-flat bosom and stared out past the flower garden.
"One would think he would give it up and come racing back to your side, with you all but on your deathbed," she said. "You can bet your tainted soul that he lied about rescuing little Fluff...or whatever."
A soul was not a thing to be bargained, but Zane was coming back. She'd bet her next breath on it.
Chapter Sixteen
"That woman will bring shame on this house, mark my words." Hortense's voice carried through the open window. Eavesdropping hadn't been Missy's intention, but bent over the flowerbed just below the window, she clearly heard the conversation.
Along with Hortense's bitter words came the scent of freshly baked peach pie. Pie-baking, it seemed, was Hortense's redeeming grace.
Late last night when Missy had been unable to sleep, the reverend had sat up with her. He apologized six times over for his sister. Her story was a sad one, made heart-wrenching by the fact that she had become so bitter.
According to the reverend, there had been a time when Hortense had been as fun-loving as the next girl, sweet and trusting even. But then she met a man who loved her pies overmuch and claimed to love Hortense, too. The fellow was a cad, and her brother had tried to warn her so, but Hortense had set her cap and wouldn't listen to good sense. She planned to elope. Hortense waited on the front porch from dusk until dawn with her satchel on her lap, but her beau had run off that same night with a whore from Luminary. Hortense decided the tragedy was due to Raymond's negative attitude. All that remained of the sister he had known was her skill with a rolling pin.
"It's only a hat." Raymond's voice carried out the window. "And who is going to see it but the two of us?"
"It's red...with indecent feathers sticking out of it, for mercy sake."
Missy bent over, plucked a flower and stuck it in Emily's hat. She patted the purple blossom, remembering the painted face of her generous, if fallen, friend.
"She can't stay here, Raymond. That man is never coming back. All he wanted was money."
"If that's the case, Hortense, Miss Devlin will need our friendship. Can't you even offer that?"
"And when she turns up in a family way, what then?"
"Try and remember what your knees are for, Hortense. I don't even know who you are anymore."
A door slammed inside. Seconds later footsteps pounded across the dining-room floor and stopped at the open window above the spot where Missy knelt with a handful of crushed peonies.
Raymond glanced down, saw her and closed his eyes, his breath hissing through his teeth.
"I'm sorry you heard that. Truly, I don't know what to say."
"This hat was a gift from a woman in Luminary." Thank goodness the personal treasure had been stored in Zane's saddle pack during the storm. "One of Maybelle's girls, but a dear friend all the same."
Raymond rested his hands on the windowsill and leaned out. "Maybe I know her, then, in a professional sense. My profession, that is, not hers."
"Emily."
"Emily Perkins? Emily and I have had some wonderful conversations." Raymond reached out the window. "Here, let me take those and plunk them in some water and see if they revive."
"Reverend, what your sister said is true." Missy looked up through the sunlight. "Zane and I are not married yet. And...well, I could be in a family way." She handed up the flowers. "I guess you should know that."
His smile down at her was warm and without hesitation. "In my experience, weddings and christenings don't always follow that order."
Hers was one wedding that would happen first. Zane was coming back, no matter what Hortense thought. Any day now he would come riding in with Muff.
A black voice in the back of her brain reminded her of the West that Zane knew. In that brutal place anything could happen. Through no choice of his own, Zane might not be able to come back.
"I need to go to Luminary, Reverend. It's long past time I wired my family and let them know where I am."
* * *
The next morning Missy sat on the buckboard, wedged between the Gilroys.
"If you'd rather eat nails than go to Luminary, Hortense, you should have stayed home," the reverend said.
Hortense sniffed the air. Craning her neck, she peered at clouds hanging like a dirty sheet over the sky.
"That, brother dear, was a cruel thing to say."
"Hortense is sensitive to severe weather," he said. "She hides in a closet and--"
Hortense turned her face toward her brother, her mouth snapping open and closed, apparently seeking words to express her outrage.
"That's where I'd be," Missy vowed quickly. "I've been through two storms out here and let me tell you, they are not like the ones back home."
Hortense arched an eyebrow at her but held the words about to spit from her tongue.
"Next time you head for the closet--" a shiver raced across Missy's shoulders when she glanced at the sky
"--make sure there's room for me."
"Make room for a--" Hortense stared at her, straight in the eye. For half an instant her features softened. So quickly did the expression pass that it might have been a trick of wind and clouds playing over her face. "Clearly, I have no control of where you hide."
"There's Luminary ahead," Raymond announced. "Looks like we'll make it without getting wet."
Blessed be for meteorological good luck. The dull wool gown that Missy had borrowed scratched her skin without mercy. Any little bit of moisture would make her itchy and miserable.
Luminary didn't look any different from the last time she had been here, in spite of the rumors that the town was changing.
By the time Raymond pulled the team to a halt in front of Maybelle's, Hortense looked pale. Her hair frazzled out of its pinched bun.
"You can't make me go in there." Hortense's fingers dug into the seat of the buckboard. "We only came to send a wire. We were to do that and go home straight away... Raymond, please."
Raymond, please? Missy snapped her head around, away from the sign over Maybelle's door that advertised dancing ladies, to stare at Hortense.
Of all things, she dashed away a tear with thin, trembling fingers.
"It's a horrible, sinful place with women doing wicked things."
"Oh, for pity sake, sis." Raymond turned her chin, looking hard into her eyes. "The storm is going to hit and hit hard. Do you want to get caught out in it?"
"You know I don't, but really, I can't go in there."
"It won't be so bad." Missy patted Hortense's hand. "There won't be customers this time of day and there's a nice room at the top of the house to hide in. It locks from the inside and the out."
&nbs
p; "Take me home," Hortense whispered, or more precisely, croaked.
At that instant lightning hit the ground less than a block away.
With a screech, Hortense dove from the wagon and shot up the front steps. She was inside Maybelle's before the shock of light faded and the ground quit shaking.
"Would you mind looking after my sister? The horses are spooked. I need to get them settled in the stable around back."
"I'll do what I can." Missy shimmied off the wagon without taking the time for a hand down.
Rushing through Maybelle's open front door felt something like coming home. Candles and lamps gave the crimson room a rich glow. It was a warm cocoon in contrast to the threatening weather.
This time of day, the main room was deserted. Hortense gasped at the painting above the bar.
The youthful Maybelle, smiling down with an indecent proposal, must have robbed the small bit of breath cinched tight in Hortense's corset.
She swayed with one hand splayed over her breast.
Missy rushed forward and caught her under the arms. Hortense's weight and extra height sagged against her. She grunted with the effort to keep her burden upright. In the end her knees buckled and she wound up pinned between Hortense and a purple rug.
"Hortense! Wake up, I can't breathe."
Missy wiggled and grunted and finally managed to sit up with Hortense's head propped against her shoulder.
"What's going on in--" Maybelle, scurrying into the room, stopped in her tracks. She plucked her glasses from the top of her head and slid them onto her nose. She peered hard at the pair of women on her floor. "Well, dearie me, how on earth did you get there?"
She rushed forward and knelt down, taking a bit of Hortense's weight from Missy.
"We came in the front door. This is Raymond Gilroy's sister, Hortense."
"Yes, so I see. The poor dear."
"I don't know about the 'dear' part but, still, I couldn't have let her hit the floor smack-on."
"Clearly, but how did you...and where's your--" Maybelle glanced about the room then back at Missy. Her eyes widened. "Oh, dear me!"
A man's heavy footsteps sounded in the hall, coming quick.
