by Kit Morgan
“Impression of what?”
Belle sighed. “The MacDonalds told my husband and I to take you home with us. They’ll come fetch you when they’re done with … well, whatever it is they’re doing. They didn’t tell us specifics, but then, they never do.” She chuckled.
“That’s odd.” She noticed she was not only still wearing her party dress, but that she wasn’t in a hospital. “They didn’t take me to the hospital?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I was sick last night. I … ate something bad.” She wasn’t about to go into details. It was embarrassing enough to be done in by a single cracker covered with spray cheese.
“Oh, you poor dear. But don’t worry, we’ll get you home and fix you right up.”
Lorelei smiled weakly. Couldn’t Shona and Dallan or the other Cookes have just taken her home? But as sick as she obviously was, they must’ve decided against it. Maybe they could still drop her off. She wasn’t still that sick. She’d had food poisoning before and been able to handle it. She licked her dry lips. “Where do you live?”
“A few miles on the other side of Clear Creek, but with the added distance, we’re looking at about six.”
“Then it would be easy for you to drop me off. I live above Dunnigan’s Mercantile.”
“You … do?”
“I just moved in. I appreciate you giving me a ride – I really need to get out of this dress.”
Belle gave her a funny look, then glanced at the dress. “It’s beautiful. Did you make it?”
“Me?” Lorelei laughed. “If only. I can hardly thread a needle. Shona lent it to me for the party.”
Belle smiled. “I see. Where are you from originally?”
“Portland. But I’ve lived in Clear Creek for years.”
Belle gave her a look as if what she was saying didn’t add up. Then she studied Lorelei’s dress while running a hand over her own. “I used to have beautiful clothes when I lived in Boston. Seems like a lifetime ago.”
Lorelei studied Belle’s worn clothes. “Did you make that dress?”
“Yes – do you like it? It’s not my best work, I had to rush to finish it because I was also sewing new dresses for my daughters at the time. They’re going to be Christmas gifts.”
“You sew a lot?”
“With as many children as I have, yes,” she said with a laugh. “Can you stand?”
“I can try. Besides, I need to use the restroom.”
Belle stared at her. “The what?”
“The bathroom?”
“Bathroom,” she drawled. “You mean … a water closet?”
Lorelei stared at her. “Water closet, yeah.” It was the 1800s word for “bathroom,” but why was Belle using it?
Belle sighed, reached under the bed and pulled out an old-fashioned porcelain chamber pot. It looked brand new. Lorelei wondered where Shona and Dallan found it. More important, why was the woman offering it to her? Was this some kind of joke?
“I’ll leave you to it,” Belle said as she handed it to her and stood. “I’ll let my husband know we can leave soon.” She gave Lorelei a nervous smile and left the room.
Lorelei shoved the heavy quilts off of her – the same ones she’d washed for the MacDonalds over a week ago. Only now, they looked almost new. “What the …?” She fingered the fabric, then the stitching. There were no old stains, no musty smell … what was going on? She got out of bed, shivered and went to the dormered window. She must be in the back of the house. Had the electricity gone out? It was freezing.
She rubbed her arms and looked outside at the snow-covered trees, more trees than she remembered. “Wow.” It was a beautiful sight. The trees were very tall, the woods thick. She noted the frost on the windows, went to the bed, notice her cloak and scarf at the end of the bed and put them on. After another shiver she grabbed the top quilt and wrapped it around her. She had to find a toilet and fast.
She went to the door, opened it and stepped into a long hallway illuminated by a window at either end. There were several other doors and she was confused as to what part of the house she was in. Where was the mezzanine? The place must be bigger than she thought. And when was there a power outage? Brrr! She hoped the electricity was on at home.
She opened the first door she came to – another bedroom. She went to the next – another one. She opened every door on the second floor but still found no bathroom. Lorelei remembered Shona said the cabin had eight beds upstairs – that’s what she needed the quilts for. But the quilts on the beds – and the one she’d was wrapped in – though they appeared the same, looked much newer.
She found the staircase at the end of the hall, went down it and found herself in a large living room, with a wide door leading to a dining room. Where was she? Was she even in the same house? She crossed the room to a door and opened it. Another bedroom.
“All done?” Belle said as she came into the house through what had to be the front door. “I’ll empty the pot.”
Lorelei gaped at her. “Um … I didn’t use …”
“Oh, would you rather use the privy? It’s out back in the trees. The trail’s covered in snow, but you can follow the footprints.”
“Out back?!” Had she heard her right?
“Yes, follow me.” Belle went into the dining room.
Lorelei could only follow. Maybe this was some sort of hunter’s cabin behind the main house. Were the MacDonalds shooting for a rustic vibe? She reached the kitchen and stopped. “Oh, wow. Definitely rustic.”
“I beg your pardon?” Belle said.
“Nothing.” Lorelei stared at the wood-fired cookstove, the dry sink, the hutch against one wall. Nothing looked less than a hundred years old, but it had all been made, or restored, to appear brand-new.
“Yes, I know, it’s not everything one needs. Amon built this to replace the original men’s camp but never finished it. He left for England and none of us have had time to work on the place.”
Lorelei nodded, not knowing what to say. Did this Amon still own part of the property? “How far is this from the main house?”
“Main house?” Belle said, confused.
Lorelei’s bladder reminded her where they were going and indicated this wasn’t the time to argue. “Never mind. Where’s the trail?”
Belle led her through a back door and into a small yard. There was a clothesline strung between two small pines and a trail of footprints that disappeared into the thick trees.
Lorelei nodded at Belle and, doing her best not to fidget, took to the trail. It led about sixty feet away to an honest to goodness outhouse. “Great.” But beggars couldn’t be choosers. She took a deep breath, prayed it wasn’t full of spiders, and went inside.
* * *
“And this is my husband Colin.” Belle waved at a man readying an old-fashioned buckboard. It had a two-horse team and Lorelei wondered if they trailered the horses in from the Cooke ranch or some other ranch or stable. If this was part of the MacDonalds’ idea, it was certainly working on her. She felt like she was in the Old West. People that stayed would love it.
“Hello,” Lorelei said, too softly. Then, a little stronger: “Nice to meet you.”
He turned. “My pleasure. My wife tells me you’re feeling much better.”
Her brows shot up at his British accent. “Oh, yes. Last night was, um … a little rough.”
“We understand,” Belle said.
Lorelei smiled and studied Mr. Cooke. She hadn’t seen either of them around town. And Englishman would have stood out as soon as he opened his mouth. She wondered if they were there to help the MacDonalds out. “Do you live around here?”
The couple exchanged a concerned look. “Yes, I thought I explained,” Belle said. “We live on the Triple-C.”
Lorelei’s brow furrowed. “I haven’t seen you around town.”
“We don’t get to town as much as we used to,” Mr. Cooke said. “It’s easier to send our foreman or one of his sons.”
She smiled. “That makes sense.�
�� She didn’t know what half the Cooke family looked like anyway. She was only familiar with the three youngest – Nathaniel, Winston and Avery – because Clear Creek had just one high school.
“Let’s go.” He offered his wife a hand.
Lorelei glanced around. She didn’t see a car or truck anywhere.
“Coming?”
She looked at them and her breath caught. “We’re riding in the wagon?”
They exchanged another look. “You don’t want to walk, do you?” Mr. Cooke asked.
“No … it’s just that I thought you’d drive me home.”
“We are, but to our ranch,” Belle said again. “It’s what the MacDonalds said. They were quite …” She glanced at her husband. “… insistent.”
She stared at them. What did happen last night? “Was I that sick?”
“We wouldn’t know,” Belle said. “We weren’t there. But according to them, you definitely need looking after.”
She thought about that and hoped the panic rising in her chest didn’t show on her face. Was something wrong with her, something she didn’t know about? Had they taken her to the hospital and brought her back?
“Come along, Miss Carson,” Mr. Cooke said. “We really must be going.”
“You’re not feeling ill again, are you?” Belle asked from the wagon seat.
Lorelei looked up at her. How was she going to climb up there in her dress? But more importantly … “Did they take me to a doctor?”
“Not that we know of,” Belle said. “But if you’re feeling sick, we could always drop by Doc Drake’s on the way home.”
“Doc Drake?” Who the heck was that? “Is he at Clear Creek General?”
Belle blinked a few times. “I’m sorry, at what?”
“We’ll talk about it on the way,” Colin insisted. “We must get going before the snow starts up again.” He held a hand out to Lorelei. “Come, dear.”
Lorelei looked at the two big bay horses, then at him. She’d never been this close to horses except at a Fourth of July parade. But she wasn’t being offered an alternative. She took his hand and gathered a handful of voluminous skirt with the other, not wanting to tear the dress any more than it already was. The quilt didn’t make it easier.
“Right then, here you go.” To her surprise, her led her to the back of the wagon. “You’ll ride here.”
“Oh, okay.” At least she wouldn’t have to climb onto the seat.
He lifted her into the buckboard like she was nothing. “There – you can sit on those bags of oats behind us.”
She turned, saw the grain sacks and some crates of what looked like groceries, then sat and pulled the quilt tighter. A biting cold wind was kicking up.
“You don’t have a coat?” Belle asked.
“No.” She rearranged the quilt and put part of it over her head. Belle, she noticed, had her heavy shawl, a scarf around her head and neck, and a blanket across her lap.
Colin climbed up, put part of the blanket over his legs and picked up the reins. He got the team moving and the wagon lurched forward.
Lorelei was afraid to question the Cookes about much yet. For now, she was hungry, cold and disoriented, but all in all still felt better than last night. She’d been so sick and … something else. Didn’t she feel unexplainably good at one point? She thought she had, right before she went to sleep. Maybe they gave her some sort of medicine. She hoped it wasn’t addicting – she’d read about the opioid epidemic.
The wagon bumped through the snow-covered woods. She liked the sound of the horse’s hooves on the snow and the jangle of harness, but boy, could this thing use some shock absorbers! She was facing backwards and could see other wagon tracks, some of which were already covered with new snow. Did they all belong to this wagon, or did the MacDonalds have two or three? She’d have to ask them when she saw them again. The sky looked like it was going to snow again. She saw the landscape, sighed at the beauty of it all and … “Oh no!”
“What is it,” Belle asked as she turned on the wagon seat to see her.
“I have to go to work!”
“Work?” Mr. Cooke said. “But it’s Sunday. And where the devil do you work?”
She tapped her forehead. Think, think, think, Sunday … “Okay, I think I have time. I just have the four-to-eight shift at Dunnigan’s.”
“Dunnigan’s?” Belle said.
“Shift?” Colin added.
“Yes,” Lorelei said, as if it should be obvious. Why wasn’t it obvious? “I work part-time at Dunnigan’s Mercantile. And at the laundromat, and at Daisy’s Café.”
Belle stared at her in confusion. “And before, you said you live above Dunnigan’s?”
“Yeah. What about it?”
“My aunt and uncle own Dunnigan’s.”
“Oh, you’re related to the Jensens?”
The Cookes gave each other another look. Mr. Cooke eyed her this time. “Oh, yes. The MacDonalds told us you wouldn’t be yourself and that you also wouldn’t be … working for a time. Though I thought they meant something else.”
“What? No, I can’t afford to lose hours! I have to work this afternoon!”
Colin smiled, but his gaze was firm. “My dear child, you’re not yourself and you’ll not be going to work. If you’re worried about your wages, I’ve been told that they’re taken care of. In the meantime, you’re to stay with us, on the MacDonalds’ orders, and we’ll look after you until they come fetch you. Is that understood?”
She stared at him, mouth open. He’d been nice enough when he said it, but she could tell he meant business. “You kidnapped me?!” she finally shrieked.
“No,” Belle quickly replied. “It’s all right. You’re free to go wherever you like – we won’t hold you against your will. But you’re here as our and the MacDonalds’ guests. Free of charge, if that helps.”
Lorelei was a little less alarmed – but only a little. “Is this some kind of a cult?”
Now Belle looked confused again. “I don’t know what that means … but no, I don’t think it’s that. Please, I think it will all make sense soon enough.” Belle sighed. “And I should probably talk to the MacDonalds when they return about …” She trailed off with a shake of her head.
Whatever happened last night, they obviously weren’t going to tell her yet. Lorelei knew she’d just have to play it cool, see what happened and be prepared to escape whatever weirdness these so-called Cookes and the MacDonalds had planned. “All right. Sorry for freaking out on you.” She turned and faced the road behind them.
After what seemed like forever but was probably no more than an hour, she saw another wagon. Then a horse and rider, and another, and still another. She turned, knelt on the sacks of grain and faced front. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?” Mr. Cooke asked.
Lorelei didn’t clarify, just kept looking around. They’d left the woods for the open prairie, and now … this. A well-traveled dirt road was fronted on either side by wooden houses and storefronts and boardwalks. Everyone on the street was in costume. There wasn’t a car in sight or power lines to pull her from this dream land. But how in the heck was there an entire Old West town in the middle of nowhere?! She didn’t know of any Western-themed parks in the area. “This is like Westworld IRL. Do you have robots?”
“Lorelei, are you all right?” Belle asked. “Because I’m afraid you’re speaking gibberish.”
She gaped at the town as her lower lip trembled. Where was she? Where were they taking her?
“Lorelei?” Belle repeated.
She tried to speak but nothing came out. This didn’t make any sense. Considering the direction they were traveling, she thought they’d come out on the other side of Canyon Park, but she must have been wrong. “Where … where are we?”
“You mean you don’t know?” Belle asked.
Mr. Cooke turned to Lorelei as she shook her head, eyes wide. “My dear child, this is Clear Creek.”
Her eyes widened further, her chest
grew tight and her head began to spin. Or did everything else? She had no idea, for it all went suddenly black.
Chapter Seven
“Lorelei?”
The voice was gentle, caring, but she didn’t recognize it.
“Let me try,” a man said, and an unexplainable peace seeped into her bones. “Lorelei, can you hear me?”
She opened her eyes slowly, not wanting the peaceful sensation to stop. It reminded her of …
Her eyes popped open and darted around the room. There wasn’t much furniture, just a hutch with a few small baskets of bandages and some brown bottles full of who-knew-what, a bedside table and a bed – which she was in. Finally, she looked at the man hovering over her and holding her hand. He was in his late forties, brown hair graying at the temples with a day’s growth of beard and blue eyes. “Who are you?”
“I’m Doc Drake. And you are?”
Didn’t he already say her name? “Lorelei Carson.”
“Good.” He held up a finger. “Can you follow this?” He moved it right, then left.
Her eyes followed it as it all came back: the party, the Cookes and MacDonalds, the handsome Englishman and his fascination with spray cheese, the ride with Belle and Colin into … “Ohhh,” she groaned.
“Does your head hurt?” the doctor asked.
“A little. It’s just …” She looked to her right. Belle sat in a chair watching them, Colin standing behind her. Cookes, or so they said. But not any Cookes she’d known or heard about before today. “Belle?”
The woman came and sat on the bed. “I’m right here. How are you feeling?”
“I dare say, you took a nasty tumble,” Colin added. “You’re lucky you didn’t land on a crate of supplies.”
She swallowed, her throat dry. There was something wrong, something terribly wrong, and she couldn’t figure out what. A 19th-century town in the middle of eastern Oregon …
“Father?”
All heads turned as a young man entered the room. He took one look at Lorelei and froze, his hat in his hands. He looked like a young cowboy, straight out of an old movie.
