Her Fearless Love_Seeing Ranch Mail Order Bride

by Florence Linnington

  “All right,” she agreed.

  “Soon as I’m done, I’ll come check on you,” Neil said as they left the cabin. “Until then, stay in town, you hear? The hotel. Church.”

  Bonnie glanced up the road, in the direction of her home. Nothing but the leaves stirred. Still, the shivers returned to her neck.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “I will stay there.”

  And find something productive to do.

  Perhaps she could use her time in town to find out more about Warren Percy.

  At the split in the road, Neil turned to face Bonnie. “Don’t go far. Please. I’m asking for Steve.”

  At the imploring tone, Bonnie cocked her head. “Did Steve ask you to watch over me?”

  Neil flushed. “It’s what good friends do. We look out for each other’s families.”

  Bonnie’s heart warmed. “Thank you, Neil. You are truly a great friend to Steve, and I have come to think of you as the same.”

  Neil nodded. “We need to stick together, no matter what happens.”

  “Yes,” Bonnie murmured.

  “I’ll ask a bit about Percy today,” Neil said, “but I need to be careful not to draw attention to myself.” He paused. “We both do.”

  Nausea filled Bonnie. “I am afraid I have already drawn too much attention to myself,” she said, “judging by the events of last night.”

  Neil’s jaw ticked. “Just be even more careful from now on. Be careful who you talk to.”

  Bonnie chewed that over. Had someone she’d asked questions told the killer about her? Or had news simply gotten around? Or was she right on the nose, and she’d already spoken to the killer?

  “I will,” Bonnie promised.

  They waved goodbye, and Neil turned for the mine, and Bonnie turned for the hotel.

  35

  35. Bonnie

  Chapter thirty-five

  Bonnie opened the hotel’s front door and headed straight past the empty front desk and to the dining area. Stopping in the doorway, she cast her gaze around the large room. A couple of men finished breakfast up in the corner, and an elderly woman sat drinking tea while reading a book.

  The elderly woman looked up from her book, her gaze dipping to the revolver in Bonnie’s hand. Bonnie looked at it as well, then tucked the gun under her arm, just for propriety’s sake. She had to look awfully silly toting a gun around.

  The door to the kitchen swung opened, and Wakefield came out and scooped up one of the men’s empty plates.

  Bonnie intercepted his return to the kitchen. “May I speak with you?”

  His brow furrowed. “What’s happening?”

  “It is...” Bonnie cast her gaze toward the two men. Who were they? She couldn’t remember seeing them around town before. Then again, powers of observation had not been as important to her a few weeks ago as they were now. It used to be, everyone in Whiteridge was a stranger who held the potential of becoming a friend. Now they were all possible killers or people who might hold information that Bonnie needed.

  Wakefield understood. “Let me put these down, and we’ll go into my office.”

  In the small room at the end of the main hallway, Wakefield closed the door behind them.

  “Have a seat,” he said.

  Bonnie could not. With nerves spinning through her, all she could do was pace. Unfortunately, in such a small office, that meant spinning on her heel every few steps. Her fingers wrapped tightly around the revolver, and the cold metal was beginning to comfort her. It was something familiar.

  Wakefield eyed the gun. “You’re just walking around with that?”

  Bonnie set the gun on his desk. “I’d put it in a holster if I had one.”

  “Ah.” He paused. “I can loan you one.”

  The fact that he gave no argument against Bonnie carrying a revolver sent a chill through her. If Wakefield and Neil both believed she could be in danger, that meant Bonnie was not being paranoid.

  “Do you know Mr. Warren Percy?” she asked. Forget the holster. They had more important things to discuss.

  Wakefield crossed his arms in front of his chest and frowned. “I do.”

  Bonnie stopped pacing. “Mr. Hickson. Do you know him?”

  “Yes. I know every miner.”

  “He told me that Mr. Percy wants the Hawkins’ land. From an interaction I witnessed between him and Margaret the other day, it appears to be true.”

  Wakefield rubbed his jaw. “I don’t like that fellow. It doesn’t surprise me at all that he’s trying to get his claws in the Hawkins’ land.”

  “It doesn’t?” Bonnie asked, relieved to finally speak with someone who had some valuable information on Warren Percy.

  “No. He moved here last year looking to start a boarding house.”

  “A boarding house? But there is already a hotel. Are there enough men here for a boarding house?”

  “Exactly,” Wakefield said. “To answer your question, there will be enough men eventually. Zimmerman is planning on hiring two dozen more miners over the next year. And I don’t mind some friendly competition, but that’s not what Percy is about. His plan, once he gets around to building this boarding house, is to charge next to nothing. Course, the place will be absolutely run down. It’ll be like living in city slums.”

  “He has been here a year,” Bonnie said, “and he has not built this. Why? Wouldn’t it be wise to begin construction in preparation for the miners who will be moving here?”

  “Daniel Zimmerman owns the land here in town. He wouldn’t come down to Percy’s asking price.”

  “Which must have been rather low, I assume.”

  “Right,” Wakefield said.

  “The Hawkins’ land is exceptionally nice. It has a creek and would be easy to clear.” Bonnie twisted her hands around and looked out the window, catching sight of the shed Mr. Hawkins’ body had been found in. She turned away from the sight. Someone needed to burn that building down.

  “Do you know anything else about him?” Bonnie asked, aware of the desperate note in her voice.

  Wakefield appeared to be thinking hard. “Not much. Other than that he’s a man who likes the bottle. What’s going on?”

  “Do you think he could be someone who is... capable of murder?”

  A heavy silence descended upon the room.

  “I think a lot of men are capable of murder. Given the right circumstances,” Wakefield added. “But that’s another conversation. You’re asking me do I think Percy killed Hawkins in order to grab his land?”

  “I see it as plausible,” Bonnie said.

  Wakefield nodded. “I can see it, too. But again, we don’t really know the man. And you don’t have any evidence, do you?”

  Bonnie’s stomach turned to lead. “All I have is what I told you. I know that he wants that land. And what about the gun? The Folsom?”

  Wakefield spread his palms. “Anyone could have that and keep it hidden. Sheriff Ross’ sweep of the miners wasn’t more than a stunt to look good. He knows as good as anyone else that a killer ain’t so dumb as to keep the murder weapon on his person.”

  “Then what can we do?”

  “We need to get the information out of Percy himself.”

  “You make that sound so simple,” Bonnie sighed.

  Wakefield grinned wryly.

  “Wait.” Bonnie’s heart skipped a beat. “You said he possesses a penchant for alcohol.”

  “Right.” Wakefield nodded, and then his eyes lit up as he understood what Bonnie was after.

  “Do you suppose that were we to encourage him to drink to intoxication, he might...”

  “His tongue might loosen up some,” Wakefield finished. “It’s worth a shot. Although...”

  “Yes?”

  “We’ll have to get someone to drink with him. That’s the only way. Noah or Neil. I don’t drink anymore.”

  “Or I can do it,” Bonnie said.

  Wakefield inspected her. “That’s not a good idea.”

  “Because I am a
woman.”

  “Exactly. The saloon is no place for you.”

  “Please.” Bonnie licked her dry lips. “I can manage in there, and I want to help. I need to.”

  Again, Wakefield paused. “No offense intended, but can you hold your liquor? You’re right small.”

  Bonnie chewed her bottom lip. “Um, no. Not exactly. But don’t you suppose this plan would work better if a woman were to drink with him, as opposed to a man?”

  “Hit him with two weaknesses,” Wakefield said. “The drink and the attention of a woman. Yes, I do think that will work best.”

  Bonnie’s palms began sweating, and her heart rate increased. This was it. They had a plan. What would she ask Mr. Percy? How would she go about the conversation without making it clear she mined for information?

  And how would she keep a clear head while under the influence of alcohol?

  “I never drink,” Bonnie murmured. “That is the only issue. I fear I will not be able to keep up with him.”

  “I have an idea,” Wakefield said, waving his finger in excitement. “You’ll take Percy to the saloon, and Noah will pour your drinks. He’ll make sure that you won’t become drunk as Percy.”

  “He will give us different serving sizes?” Bonnie asked.

  “You like water?” Wakefield winked.

  36

  36. Bonnie

  Chapter thirty-six

  Bonnie twisted her handkerchief in her hands. The anxiety she’d felt upon first hatching the plan with Wakefield still persisted. Though she had an end objective, getting information out of Mr. Percy, it was getting there that distressed Bonnie.

  Wakefield and Noah had had their suggestions. Questions she could ask Mr. Percy. Noah had flat out suggested she use her ‘womanly wiles,’ as if Bonnie should know what he meant by that.

  If the stakes hadn’t been so high , she would have laughed at such a thought. Womanly wiles!

  Standing on the hotel’s front porch, she raked her gaze across the street. According to Noah, Mr. Percy had a regular habit of drinking at the saloon around four every afternoon. Which meant he should be walking up at any moment.

  Bonnie glanced toward the saloon, its door propped open with a hunk of wood. It wasn’t a place she would ever think of going, and she was grateful Noah waited for her in there. Plus Wakefield was in the hotel. If something should go wrong, like Mr. Percy or another man gave her trouble or became inappropriate, they would be there to help her.

  Looking back to the road, she caught sight of the man she waited for. Mr. Percy walked toward the saloon, his slight limp slowing him down a bit.

  Burying her face in her handkerchief, Bonnie bowed her head and rushed across the street. She made choking noises, doing her best to pretend to be in the deepest emotional pain.

  Her shoulder knocked into Mr. Percy, and she gasped and lifted her face.

  “Whoa there,” he said.

  “Oh, I am so sorry,” Bonnie wailed. “Please forgive me.”

  Mr. Percy’s brow furrowed, and the recognition entered his eyes. “That’s all right, Miss Potter. You all right there?”

  “I... No... I am not.” The words began as a lie, nothing more than a line delivered by an amateur actress, but as Bonnie said them, the truth came forward, and with it the pain. She was anything but all right. She had left one life only to watch her new one crumble around her.

  Moisture filled her eyes, and the facade became more real. “I am feeling awful,” Bonnie gasped, as hot tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Mr. Percy’s eyes widened. “Oh. There now. Is it your husband?”

  “My fiancée,” Bonnie corrected him. “And yes. And no. It is everything. I do not know what I will do next. How can I stay here with Steve gone? Where am I to go?”

  Bonnie was back on her planned lines. Make it seem like you need his help, Noah had said. Men love that.

  Bonnie wiped away her tears.

  “There now,” Mr. Percy said. “It will be fine... most likely.”

  Bonnie let out a shuddering sigh. “Please excuse me for my hysterics. I did not mean to burden you with any of this.”

  “Aw, now, it don’t hurt me nothing. Hey now, how about a stiff drink? You look like you could use one.”

  Bonnie’s heart sang with the triumph of success. He had taken the bait, but she kept the charade going and pretended to consider the offer. “I suppose I could use one...”

  “I’m headed to the saloon myself. I know that’s not usually the place ladies like to patronize, but no one cares up here.”

  Bonnie tucked her handkerchief into her purse. “I suppose, if I am there with a gentleman, it will be all right.”

  Mr. Percy’s chest puffed out at her words. “Let’s go, then. Right this way.”

  Noah looked up from behind the bar as they entered the saloon, the slightest bit of triumph showing on his face. He quickly bowed his head, though, and got busy wiping off a glass. Three men sat at a table in the middle of the saloon, talking in low voices.

  “Where should we sit?” Mr. Percy asked. “How about the bar?”

  “Oh, I do not know. How about this table here?” Bonnie nodded at the one in the corner. The further they were from the bar, the better. That would make it harder for Mr. Percy to see what Noah was up to. That and he was more likely to talk if there weren’t people within earshot.

  “Sure,” Mr. Percy agreed.

  Bonnie hurried to take the seat facing the bar. That left the chair across from her empty. Mr. Percy settled down, his back to the bar.

  “What are you drinking?” Mr. Percy asked.

  But Noah was already there, playing his part just like they’d planned. “Miss Potter,” he said. “How are you doing?”

  “I am... best as I can be right now,” Bonnie answered sullenly.

  Noah nodded in understanding. “Vodka on the house.” He set two shot glasses of clear liquid on the table. “This will help fix you up.”

  Mr. Percy’s eyebrows rose in pleasure, and he picked his shot of vodka up. “To your man. Hopefully, he’ll, uh, find his way through this.”

  Bonnie raised her shot glass. “Yes. May God help him.”

  They took the shots, the water sliding down Bonnie’s throat. She coughed, miming the one time as a child she’d snuck into her fire’s study and taken a drink of whiskey. Mr. Percy slammed his empty glass on the table and breathed in deep.

  Bonnie dabbed at her lips and did her best to imitate Mr. Percy’s relaxed state by softening her shoulders and slowing her breathing.

  “Another round,” Mr. Percy called across the saloon.

  Noah brought two more shot glasses. Once again, only Mr. Percy’s contained real vodka. They took the shots, and Mr. Percy asked for another one.

  “Can you handle one more?” Mr. Percy asked Bonnie, the question more a dare than anything else.

  “I am not sure.”

  He chuckled. “Have one more with me. You can take that.”

  They took the shots, and the minutes slid by. Mr. Percy ordered another shot, and then another. He relaxed more, draping his arm over the back of his chair and stretching his legs out.

  “A whiskey,” he told Noah.

  “No more for me,” Bonnie said pretending to be woozy and put a hand to her head for good measure.

  Noah wordlessly brought Mr. Percy the whiskey and returned to the bar. As he sipped his drink, Mr. Percy looked at Bonnie over the glass’ rim.

  “I’m sorry about your fellow,” Mr. Percy said. “Really am.”

  “Thank you.” Bonnie said with her eyes downcast.

  Surely, he did not mean that. Not if he was the one responsible for Steve’s being in jail.

  “You have options, though. A pretty woman such as yourself.”

  Bonnie’s skin crawled, but she forced herself to meet his gaze and smile shyly. This plan would only work if she at least pretended to humor the idea of being friends.

  “Thank you,” Bonnie said. “I appreciate that. And what
of you? Do you live here all alone?”