Miss Thorne Blossoms

by Jordan Bollinger

  Meg freshened the tea pot, sat down, and picked up another magazine. Then, in a light voice, added, "In fact, I have recently come to the realization that even my mother and father kissed." And, she ended with a giggled.

  The last comment made Victoria smile.

  After a few minutes, she asked, "So, are you thinking of a 'wedding type' dress, or a more 'useable' dress, or perhaps, just a new walking suit?"

  "That's just it," Victoria wailed. "I have no idea. I think my grandparents would expect me to have a fancy wedding. But, I could certainly get more use from another walking suit than a wedding gown. Except..."

  "What?" Meg asked, looking at her friend.

  "I think I'd like a real 'wedding,' but I think he and Elise had one. So, maybe he won't want another. And, I don't want to remind Neil that I have money. I'm afraid that will always be a sticking point between us. So, I need to proceed carefully."

  "Yes, I can appreciate that," Margaret said, frowning. After a moment of silence, she said, "Well, what if the four of us had dinner together, and I begin a conversation about weddings."

  "Meg, I'm not even sure I'm engaged. I don't want to back Neil into a corner."

  "You won't be," her friend insisted. "Gus has been wanting me to pick a date and make plans for a while now. If Neil decides to say anything about you two, all well and good. If not, you can begin your own conversation regarding weddings, later."

  "Yes, I suppose your right," Victoria sighed, before she went back to looking through the magazine in front of her.

  *****

  "One of my deputies told me this morning that the new female dealer is gone," Frank announced, as he entered into the new surgery. "Brumbell told him she'd gotten into an argument just before closing time the night before and quit. He says she took her things and left first thing yesterday morning."

  "So, we can assume she's now in the brothel. But, we still have no idea where it's located," Neil groaned.

  "We have to believe that she will find a way to either get a message out to us, or somehow bring attention to the place," Frank said flatly.

  "We should have had someone watching her all the time. They could have followed her and whomever took her," Neil said.

  "I'd thought of that," Frank told him. "I'd hoped that I could have a rotation of deputies hang around the saloon. The trouble is that Brumbell is always there, watching everything. He'd certainly have noticed a string of my men continually staring at the woman."

  "Yes...yes, I suppose you're right."

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Colleen woke up and opened her eyes. At least, she thought she had. However, she still found herself engulfed in an ocean of absolute darkness, which was oddly both stuffy and cold. Her mouth was incredibly dry, and her head pounded.

  All right, what was the last thing she remembered?

  She was dealing poker. At least, she believed that's what she'd been doing. Yes, she'd been sitting at a table, in a well-lit, still populated saloon, dealing poker.

  Then, what had happened?

  It was late, just about closing time and the place had pretty much cleared out...and...Brumbell had come over and praised her—told her what a bonus she was to the business. And then...then he'd poured them both a drink and toasted her.

  Usually, she wouldn't drink anything—especially something Brumbell gave her. But, there were still several people lingering over their beers, and he'd poured them both drinks. She'd seen him do it—fill their glasses from the same bottle.

  He'd told her what a success she was, clinked glasses, and taken a drink. Or, had he?

  Focus, Colleen!

  He'd raised the glass to his mouth, and then...and then...he'd...he'd what? He'd raised his glass, and started to take a sip, when his attention appeared to have been drawn to a pair of rising voices in a far corner of the room. And, he'd slapped his shot glass down on the table so hard, most of the liquor had splashed out.

  How could she have been so foolish?

  Oh well, it was too late to cry over her mistake. She had to assess her situation. First, she needed to figure out her immediate surroundings. Groping around her, she decided she was lying on a narrow cot. Her throbbing head didn't make it easy for her to sit up. But, after several minutes of struggling, while doing her best to be silent, her feet found the floor and she sat upright.

  It was only then she realized she was barefoot—both her shoes and stockings had been removed. Now, she felt herself, patting at her body. Her dress was gone, as well as her corset, but she was still wearing her chemise and drawers.

  Still trying to function in the impenetrable inky blackness, she took a step, and hit a wall. She continued to feel around until she realized, she wasn't in an actual room, but a closet. However, she did found her suitcases beneath the bed.

  She sat in the tiny space between the cot and far wall, and managed to open her suitcase, and feel around. Everything seemed to still be there, including several bottles of 'Mrs. Winslow's Soothing Syrup.' She removed a petticoat out of the case and wriggled into it, before she slipped into a woolen dressing gown and tied the sash in a knot.

  She took one of the bottles from her case, opened it and poured a bit out, onto the floor, far back, against the wall, beneath the cot, where it wouldn't be noticed. Then, she dropped the little bottle into one of the robe's pockets.

  After she was more warmly and modestly dressed, she fumbled around until she found the secret latch that opened up the false bottom of the case. A moment more of groping revealed both derringers were still there.

  Now, she had a conundrum—should she take one or both of them and hide them in the room? Or, secrete one or both on her person? Or, should she leave them where they were hidden?

  A million questions and answers buzzed around in her head. She could hide one and leave the other in the case's false bottom. But, what if they—whomever they were—took her cases from her?

  However, she was sure that they weren't going to keep her in this closet for very long. So, hiding them in here—even if she could find a suitable hiding place somewhere—since her exploration had revealed only the cot, and her cases in the tiny space—probably wasn't a good idea.

  After giving it much thought, Colleen took one of the guns and secreted it in a special, heavily lined, little pocket concealed in the buckram faced hem of her petticoat. She decided to leave the other where it was hidden. Since they hadn't taken her things from her initially, they'd probably move them with her—whenever they moved her. At least, she hoped they did.

  Once she'd again concealed the secret compartment in her suitcase, and returned it back beneath the bed, she sat back, and waited. Her head still ached, her mouth tasted furry, and she really needed to relieve herself.

  She'd been doing her best to ignore this last problem, but if someone didn't come soon to take her to a convenience—or at least bring her a chamber pot—she was going to be forced to use a corner of her tiny cell. And, she was pretty sure it wouldn't please her captors.

  *****

  "How is it possible for the deputies to lose Miss Murphy?" Victoria wailed.

  "It's not their fault. They were only told to let Frank know when she disappeared," Neil argued.

  "So now she's gone, to only the Lord knows where, and in mortal danger. We should never have agreed to this plan. I know I supported it, but I was wrong. We were wrong to allow this young woman to put herself in danger," she said, her voice climbing in pitch.

  "Calm down, Rose. Miss Murphy knew what she was agreeing to. She understood the danger. And, I believe she will somehow succeed. She will find a way to either free herself and the girls, or at least send us a sign as to where they are."

  "I certainly hope you're right."

  Changing the subject, Neil said, "I saw you going into Meg's early this morning. I got the impression you had a definite reason for going there. What's going on?"

  When she turned away, he repeated, "What's going on?"

  "I just wanted to sp
eak to Meg about something, that's all."

  "I figured that much out on my own."

  "I needed to talk to her about...about what happened last night," she admitted.

  "You mean our after-dinner conversation?" he inquired, with a grin. "Or, our after-dinner-conversation outing?"

  "Both...I suppose," she answered, blushing.

  "I see. And..."

  "Well, I...Meg suggested we have dinner with them...and she is going to start to talk about planning their wedding."

  "Because..."

  "In the hope you might say something about weddings, or us, or our wedding."

  "But, why?"

  Victoria sobbed, "Because I don't know if we're engaged. I don't know if we have some sort of understanding or not. I'm so confused. And, I don't like feeling like this!"

  Neil reached out for the doctor's hand, and squeezing it, said, "I really thought we understood each other last night. Especially, after our moonlight walk."

  "So, we're...what..."

  Neil stood up, went to stand before her and said, "Just to clear up any questions you might have... Dr. Thorne, will you marry me?" And, he kissed her, right there in the office, with Kit, only steps away, in the kitchen.

  Victoria flushed, and whispered between kisses, "Yes..."

  "Good. Now, are we still meeting Meg and Gus for dinner or not?"

  *****

  After what seemed like an eternity, Colleen heard some soft footsteps, a key turn in the lock, and the door open a bit, allowing a tiny sliver of light into the room.

  A child's voice, called out softly, "Please, miss...don't try and get out...or we'll both be punished. Just let me come inside. Please."

  "All right," Colleen said, "but I certainly hope you have a chamber pot or bucket or something, because I'm about to burst. In fact, I don't think I could go anywhere or do anything if I don't get some relief soon."

  "I have a bucket and a cup of tea for you. So, just stay on the cot, and I'll open the door more, so we can see, because I ain't allowed to have a lamp or even a candle."

  The girl entered, handed Colleen the bucket and stayed standing in the doorway. And, in an apparent attempt to give her at bit of privacy, the girl faced outward.

  "Oh, thank goodness," Colleen exclaimed, as she relieved herself. Then she added, "Thank you so much. What's your name, child?"

  "I'm Lynn, miss. I came here with my sisters, Lisa and Lori. But they're gone. I think Sir did something to Lori, but I don't know what happened to Lisa. She was just gone one morning. And they all seemed angry she'd managed it. But what I can't understand is if she did find a way to escape—why she didn't take me with her?"

  Colleen shook her head, and lied, "I don't know that, Lynn. Now, where am I? And what's going on? I don't remember anything after having a drink with Mr. Brumbell." And after a brief pause, she asked, "Did you say you had some tea for me?"

  Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the light, so she could now see her rescuer. Without a doubt, from the description the judge had given them, this was the last of the three sisters. The poor girl was small and thin, even for a twelve-year-old. She visibly shivered from the cold, even though she wore a fairly clean and substantial calico dress.

  As she stepped in, she held out the cup of tea, but whispered, "Only don't drink it, miss." And, as Colleen tried to take the saucer, the girl held on to it, and gave just the tiniest shake of her head. It wasn't until after Colleen nodded she understood, did the child release her grip on the tea.

  Colleen sat back down, on the far end of the cot and primly held her cup out in front of her. The girl closed the door nearly shut, before joining the young woman on the bed. And leaned forward to block anyone who might be watching, as Colleen tipped the cup back, between the cot and the wall.

  Once the cup was empty, she asked, "Now what?"

  "Miss..."

  "Am I to be locked up in this hole of a closet again, or are you supposed to move me?"

  "I'm sorry, miss. I don't know what will happen, I was just told to bring you the tea and the bucket, miss," she answered in clear voice. Then she whispered, "But, if I can manage it, I'll bring you a glass of water—that's just water. And, be careful about eating or drinking anything."

  The girl left, leaving Colleen in the dark again. But, she tried to keep positive because at least she knew she was in the right place, and she'd found the youngest of the missing girls.

  Then, as an afterthought, she felt for the doorknob, kneeled down, and look through the keyhole. Only she wasn't able to see out—the key must have been left in the lock.

  Now, another line of thought took hold. She was sure she could find a handkerchief in her case. Perhaps, it would be starched and pressed enough for her to slide it beneath the door. But, what did she have in her case to use to push through the keyhole? A hairpin, perhaps?

  It was only then she noticed there was not so much as the finest line of light coming in from the hallway.

  So, the key in the outer lock was useless to her. And, in a moment of pique, she wondered if the child had been instructed to leave it there, to taunt her and emphasize how powerless was.

  She'd been lying on the cot, facing the wall, pretending to be asleep, in case someone came for her, or might even be watching her from a secret peephole. All the time she was thinking about what she knew about the problem and her current situation.

  She was still lying there, considering her options which, she was sorry to admit were quite limited—if not nil—when she heard the young girl's soft footsteps again.

  The key turned in the lock, the door creaked open a crack, and the child said, "Stay on the cot. I've brought you another cup of tea and some water to wash with."

  She stepped in just far enough to hand Colleen the tea, before she placed a tin pitcher, sitting in a tin basin on the floor. Then, she set a folded towel and cloth on the corner of the bed, and hopped back to the hallway, and after relocking the door, making a great, noisy show of removing the key.

  As soon as the child retreated, Colleen dumped the tea in the slop bucket, before she picked up the pitcher and drank from it. Never had anything tasted so good—left her so refreshed—as that water.

  She took a last sip, before she located the basin, and poured some of the remaining water into it. Then, she stuck the pitcher at the far corner of the room, in the hopes she could retain it—and the untainted water it contained.

  Once she was sitting on the edge of the cot, she reached out to the spot she thought the wash cloth was, but when she picked it up, something fell from the folds, making a clanging sound as it hit the floor. Colleen held her breath, praying that the noise hadn't been nearly as loud as it had sounded to her, and waited. But, when no one came to investigate, she groped on the floor until she found the item.

  God bless the child!

  It was a key.

  *****

  Gus and Neil arrived at the back of the workshop at the same moment. Neil looked at him and asked, "What's in the package?"

  "A chunk of beef," he answered. "We butchered a steer yesterday. So, I thought I'd bring the ladies some meat."

  They trotted up the steps and knocked on the door. While they stood, waiting for admittance, Gus said, "I hear I need to congratulate you—that that is why we're meeting here for dinner instead of the restaurant. It appears that wedding plans must be made, not only in secret, but by committee."

  "Well, thank you for your well wishes," Neil said, laughing. "But, I'm still not quite sure why we're here. After all, surely the ladies will make all the decisions."

  "Probably, but apparently including us in the discussion is supposed to give us the illusion we had input."

  "Ah..."

  Meg opened the door to reveal Victoria already sitting at the set table, flipping through a fashion magazine, and smiled at Neil, before she allowed Gus to kiss her cheek, as she received the package, which was now oozing blood. "Thank you—I think," she said, as she set it onto a plate, and then into th
e icebox.

  Then Meg added, "I heard what you all just said. And, it's not true. We do want to hear your opinions."

  The doctor looked up, grinned at the men, and added, "Of course, just because we listen to your opinions doesn't mean we are going to go along with them."

  "You see, Neil, we are practically superfluous..."

  "I don't suppose," the doctor began, "Frank has discovered anything more about Miss Murphy?"

  "No. But you need to keep faith. She knew what she was getting in to, and she has some knowledge about how to deal with things."

  "What did you two ladies do with Eva and Kit?"

  "They're getting to have dinner at the restaurant as a treat. So," Meg admitted, "we can talk in private."

  "Why?" Gus asked.

  "Because no one is supposed to know about us," Neil answered. "You two need to get married first. Then, we'll announce our engagement."

  "Are you sure that's the reason?" Victoria asked.

  "I don't know what you mean," Neil responded.

  "This isn't more about 'you having to be able to support me,' is it?"

  "No," Neil protested. "I have the money from the farm in the bank, and as soon as the town doctor pays me for my work on their new surgery, I'll be more than ready to marry you, Miss Thorne."

  "I see." But Victoria was smiling.

  *****

  After dinner was over, Gus looked at Meg and said, "You need to pick a date for our wedding."

  "But..."

  "It's not just about us, Margaret. Eva and Brian can't get married until after we do. And now, Victoria and Neil are waiting. I promised you we'd wait until after the first of the year, but it's nearly Christmas. Choose a date, woman!"

  "January eighteenth," she answered.

  "Why that day?"

  "I have no idea. You told me to choose a date, so I did."

  "All right," Gus said. He rose, went to the pantry and returned with a bottle and four glasses.

  "What's that?" Meg asked.

  "Brandy. Harding gave it to Josh the last night he was sleeping with the loom pieces. But, he's no drinker, so he gave it to me and I brought it here. And, now, I think we should toast our wedding date." He poured out generous amounts of the amber liquor, as he said, "Then we'll let the good doctor select a date for their wedding."