A broken shrub caught her eye. From her vantage point, the branches clearly bent. Beneath them something glinted in the sun. She picked her way over. Horse tracks indented the snow a few feet from the shrub. She knelt and traced the print. Nearby a piece of metal lay partially buried and she plucked it up. The coin glittered. Foreign, perhaps Spanish?
Snow stuck to her fingertips as she straightened and scanned the horizon. The sun hung low in the sky. Sliding the notebook from her pocket, she recorded her position. She threw one last look at the mysterious tracks before picking up her pail and heading home.
Shivering, she let herself into the house and, with a covert glance around for Mother, headed up the stairs to her bedroom. She’d change clothes before dinner so Mother wouldn’t notice the dirty wet spots on her skirt.
With the door closed to her bedroom, she went into the bathroom and washed herself, leaving her clothes in a heap by the tub. Clutching the coin, she walked into her darkening bedroom. The lengthening shadows in her room persuaded her to turn on the one dim light that hung from the ceiling.
She opened the closet door and studied the skirts. No pink tonight. Perhaps the green? She reached for it and held it up. Yes, this one fit nicely. She slipped the coin into the pocket of the skirt. Humming, she set the skirt on the bed and went back to the closet to retrieve her comfortable black shoes. As she crouched down, something glinted in the corner.
A lone ruby earring, resting near her lace-up boots, blinked at her.
Gracie knelt down and picked it up, then looked at her box. Her fingers trembled as she fiddled with the clasp and opened the lid.
An empty velvet interior greeted her.
No pearls or diamonds, even the plain gold ring she’d planned to sell was gone.
She pulled the box into the light and edged her fingers along the hidden bottom. With a quiet pull the scarlet interior gave way and revealed money. She pulled the money out and from beneath it retrieved her papers.
Safe, at least. She still had her cash and her clippings. Her eyes burned as she replaced the items, returning the interior of the case to its original position. She dropped the earring in, set the closed box on the bed and dressed with haste.
There was a thief to catch and the sooner, the better. She rushed downstairs and could feel the hotness in her cheeks when she burst into her parents’ room without knocking first.
It was a small room but the best Uncle Lou could offer the wheelchair-bound William. Her mother’s things were set neatly in their places—jewels on the vanity, clothes in the closet and suitcases nowhere to be seen. A colorful afghan, similar to the one on Gracie’s bed, covered their four-poster bed. All in all, despite the small size and lack of a bathroom, the room appeared cozy.
But Daddy wasn’t in there.
She ran down the hall and her mind churned as fast as her legs. Who would steal her jewels?
Why would someone prowl around her room in the first place? She frowned. The only person she imagined resorting to thievery was Julia. And for Trevor’s sake, she hoped desperately she was wrong.
As she burst outside she noticed a path had been cleared for her father’s wheelchair. Its wheels left unmistakable indentations on the ground.
She followed the marks and reached the stables gasping for breath and sides burning. At the entrance she bent over and heaved for air a few times before she felt able to walk in and explain the situation in a coherent way.
The warm mustiness of the stable enveloped her and though she could not see her parents, she heard them. She followed the sound of their voices to the far end of the main aisle. They were in the tack room inspecting Uncle Lou’s saddles. Her mother stood in a corner, features drawn. Gracie grimaced. Mother must still have her migraine. This news would only make her head ache more.
Gracie cleared her throat. Heads snapped up.
“There is a thief in our midst.” She launched into her predicament and a shocked silence filled the room.
Edith’s soft white hand went to her chest and she swayed unsteadily, face pale. Gracie wanted to step forward and comfort her but knew her mother would not appreciate the outward display of sympathy.
Why had she brought the jewels anyway? It had been a silly whim, an instinct they might prove useful in her search for Striker. Boy, had she been wrong. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…” Her voice trailed off lamely.
Trevor shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. There’s no reason your jewelry shouldn’t be safe here.” His voice held a commanding note and he seemed to rise above the others in the room. Even Uncle Lou had shrunk.
Only Trevor seemed capable at the moment of handling the situation and she wished she could go to him, rest her head on his shoulder.
“The first thing we’ll do,” he continued, “is find Julia.”
Gracie shook her head warningly at him. Mother didn’t need to know a former prostitute lived less than a mile away. Especially when that former lady of the night was the mother of the man her daughter had kissed.
“Your mother? What does she have to do with this?” Edith asked.
“I’ll wager quite a bit.” Trevor glanced around the little room. “Why don’t you head to the house for supper and I’ll get Julia.”
Uncle Lou hauled a saddle off the wall as a dogged expression crossed his face. “I’m coming, too.”
Gracie backed out of the tack room and into the main aisle. Her mother followed, pushing William’s chair. The men trailed after her.
Gracie was having trouble meeting her parents’ eyes. Although they had not objected to her bringing her jewelry box to Oregon, she still felt horribly guilty because she’d withheld her specific motives for taking it along.
“William and I will go ahead into supper.” Steel determination strengthened her mother’s spine and her voice sounded stiff. “I do hope this matter is settled shortly.” Nose high, she wheeled Father out. He did not speak at all.
Tension left Gracie’s shoulders as they moved out of sight. She felt like a failure at the moment, as well as a debtor. The jewels were worth a great deal, enough to live on for a number of years in comfort. She let her eyes drift closed briefly, then opened them and turned to Uncle Lou. “I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault, Gracie. We’ll get to the bottom of it, right, Trevor?” The grim set of Uncle Lou’s mouth matched Trevor’s and she could not help but feel that everything would turn out fine with these two working on it.
She looked up at Trevor and noted the new crease at the side of his mouth. It had to be troubling, thinking his mother had stolen from friends.
But they didn’t know for sure, she reminded herself. She licked her lips. “Perhaps we should not immediately accuse Julia.”
“And why not? She needs money and everyone here knows she can’t be trusted. You better stay out of this, Gracie.” Trevor stared down his nose at her and his scar seemed even whiter than usual against his dark skin.
She pursed her lips. “I’ll not accept you ordering me about. These are my jewels, and I will be involved in their recovery. I’m truly unsure your mother is the culprit.” She glanced at Uncle Lou. “What do you think?”
“I agree with Trevor—you need to stay with your parents. Julia will be like a cornered snake.”
“No, what do you think about the thief being someone else?”
“Look,” Trevor interrupted, “she’s the obvious choice. I don’t know why you’re set on giving her the benefit of the doubt but, in any case, you need to step back and let us take care of it. Now go on to the house and get some food.”
His tone set Gracie’s teeth on edge. Who did he think he was? She was twenty, plenty grown to decide when she would eat.
And it didn’t help that Uncle Lou lingered beside the wall, a smirk on his face.
How could she ever marry? Men appeared to be domineering and controlling. She hated obeying her parents. How would she listen to a husband? It was foolish to think of marriage at a time like this, anyhow.
She left the barn and picked her way through the dusky evening to the house. After finding Striker she planned to leave this place and return to Boston. Dances, dinners, theaters…
Boston was a glamorous, exciting cage.
She marched up the porch stairs. But she’d be leaving much behind. Boston couldn’t offer the raw beauty or personal freedoms she found here. She sighed and pulled open the front door, the handle icy against her palm. Obedience did not come easy, and yet she felt God calling her to it.
Desires or obedience? What would she choose?
* * *
A sharp crackle woke Gracie. She rose from Uncle Lou’s chair in the study and rubbed her eyes. A log lay crookedly in the fireplace. Its falling must have woken her. The fire had dwindled down to hot embers. Rubbing her arms, she went to the fireplace and tried stoking it with the poker like she’d seen Mary do. The embers only hissed and continued to fade.
She flinched as the poker was pried from her hands. Trevor stood before her, hat covered in a thick layer of snow and eyes shadowed. His silent entrance unsettled her.
“Let Trevor get the fire going,” Uncle Lou said from behind her. “Can you get us something hot to drink?”
“I can try.” She turned and noted the circles beneath Uncle Lou’s eyes. They must not have good news, but first she would get them some food and drink even though questions ricocheted through her.
In the lighted kitchen she tried to make sense of all the knobs on the stove. Where were the matches? She groaned. It was no use. Thanks to her parents and a life of indulgence, she was almost as helpless as a baby. She opened the cupboards and found cookies and cake. Loading them onto a tray, she set it on the table. Then she found bread and, venturing onto the small porch connected to the kitchen, cheese and leftover chicken from the refrigerator. She made sandwiches, careful not to slice her finger open with the knife. Once finished, she placed the sandwiches as well as plates next to the sweets and brought it all back to the sitting room.
The men sat on the couches, warming themselves by the blazing fire. Their hats, socks and shoes lay on the hearth.
She set the tray on the table. “Here are sandwiches. I apologize, but I don’t know how to get the hot water boiling on the stove. I mean, I know how to turn it on but not where the matches are or what temperature to set it at.” She grimaced, feeling like a dunce.
Uncle Lou flashed a crooked smile. “I’ll take care of things. Why don’t you sit here and talk with Trevor. He has a few questions for you.” He left as silently as he arrived and Gracie was suddenly alone with Trevor.
She sat next to her uncle’s damp spot on the couch and waited for Trevor to stop scarfing his sandwich so they could move on to more serious matters.
She settled back into the couch. The room warmed, filling with the scent of chocolate cake. Trevor made no move to speak but stared into the fire. His shoulders had returned to their tense position and he bent forward with his arms set on his knees.
His hair had grown longer since the first time she’d met him. The strands hit his shoulders, hung over his cheekbones and she wondered if he planned to cut them soon. He looked rugged, tough, a man not easily bested. The longer hair did not effeminize him at all. Gracie swallowed past the lump in her throat.
Her turned toward her, the flickering shadows from the fire dancing over his features.
“What did you and Uncle Lou discover tonight regarding your mother?” she asked.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Julia is gone.” Trevor did not look at her and his voice sounded suddenly hoarse.
“Gone?”
“Nowhere to be found. We rode for as long as we could, searching for her. Went to the stables, to the edge of the ranch. She didn’t take her herbs or beans but her bags are gone.”
“Beans?”
“She’s always kept them for digestive matters.” He rubbed at his face, brisk movements and Gracie longed to still his hands, to hold them within the safety of her own.
“How odd. Isn’t it dangerous for her to walk around in this weather?”
“Yep, but she won’t care. She was getting a little stir-crazy at my house anyway.” He leaned back and studied her, crossed his arms against his chest and stretched out his legs.
His feet were only inches from hers, she thought numbly. “I don’t understand why she would be snooping in my room.”
Trevor shrugged. “As far as I can see, she had the opportunities for thievery. What I can’t understand is why she didn’t take anything else. This house is filled with foreign valuables. That’s why I need you to tell me about those lights you saw.”
“Uncle Lou didn’t seem concerned.”
“Tell me.”
“Last night there were three again. This afternoon I walked to where I saw them and found this.” She reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out the coin. Giving it to him, she marveled at the warmth from where their fingertips touched. He examined the coin closely and she watched his face. He was harder to read than most.
Uncle Lou reappeared with china cups and a teapot. Gracie rose and took them from him. He sat down in his former spot and she poured tea for the men, keeping a covert watch on their expressions.
Trevor handed the coin to Uncle Lou without a word, and a tense silence stretched between the two men.
“What do you think?” Uncle Lou twisted the gold in his hand, then passed it back to Trevor.
“Hard to say,” Trevor answered. “Could’ve fallen off Julia on a ride. Could be Mendez.”
“Why Mendez?” Gracie gave them their tea and sat down.
When Trevor glanced at her, she sucked in a quick breath. His expressionless look had slid away. A ferocious light gleamed in his eyes. She could see the anger, the rage, brewing within, and for the first time she felt a small slither of fear. It was as if she were seeing a different man and it scared her. She had sensed the danger in him, but she had never seen this potent power that now altered his entire countenance.
“This is a Spanish coin.”
“Surely he’s not the only one who carries those.”
“Go to bed, Gracie.”
She almost listened. Almost. His hard expression did that to her. But she recovered her resolve and said, “I’d like to, Trevor, but I really must know what you two think about the likelihood of my jewels being recovered.” When both men’s faces went slack, she stumbled on. “They’re not only worth a small fortune, but they hold sentimental value. Some are family heirlooms.”
“Unfortunately, the chances of recovering them are small.” Uncle Lou’s jaw twitched. “We don’t know who took them or when they went missing.”
“I know they were in my closet as of a few days ago. Now that I think of it, my closet door was ajar, which is what caught my attention.”
Uncle Lou threw his hands up in the air and Trevor scowled.
“What? Is Julia still involved with Mendez? It is somewhat coincidental for Julia to disappear right when all this is happening.” Trevor’s expression darkened, and Uncle Lou looked away. Why were they angry with her? It was her jewels missing. Did they think she cared more about money than safety? That could be the case, if Mendez was involved.
And if Uncle Lou was Striker, then they couldn’t speak freely in front of her.
It might be in her best intere
sts to say good night and then listen outside the door.
She shifted on the couch. No, her jewels were still missing and she doubted Mendez would have only taken her things, which happened to be wedged in the corner of her closet in a very unassuming box. If the lights did belong to Mendez, then his presence here could only be for a reason more sinister than mere thievery.
Like taking Mary.
The thought petrified her. “You were gone for hours. You discovered nothing in all that time?”
“Like I said, you need some sleep.” Trevor’s voice was as frosty as his hat had been when he’d walked in over an hour ago.
“Uncle Lou, please, can’t you give me any information to help me sleep better tonight?” She swallowed hard. “Surely you two did not just stumble around the ranch all night long.”
“Actually, we did. Trevor’s right…there’s not much we can do until morning. Then one of us will drive into Burns and the other will ride the property looking for trails.”
“We can also check the train station,” Gracie added. “I’m certain they keep a log of passengers.”
Trevor’s scarred brow rose, reminding her of how he’d looked at her the first time she met him. She set her chin. They would not push her out of this adventure merely because she was of the fairer sex.
“Tomorrow I’ll ride to the train station,” she announced. “Uncle Lou, you should go into town and Trevor should check all the places Julia could hide on this property.”
“You’re not going anywhere without an escort.” He spoke casually, but there was steel in his tone.
“Really, Trevor. Mendez is not after me.”
“He’ll snatch who he can.”
Gracie faced Uncle Lou. “How big is the ranch?”
“’Bout one hundred acres,” Trevor answered for him, and Gracie had to check the quick irritation that flared up. His legs sprawled in front of him in a lazy fashion, mimicking his voice.
She sighed. If only she’d locked that silly box. Too late now. The most she could do would be to hound these two men as well as follow her own leads.
Love on the Range Page 19
