Mountain Heiress: Mountain Midwife

by Cassie Miles

  Gabby was captivated by the story of her long-ago past. One of the Rousseau children must have moved back East and established themselves in Brooklyn. But which one? Did she have other relations? Aunt Rene had never mentioned anyone other than Michelle. “How does all this relate to Charlotte?”

  “Supposedly, the key to finding the treasure is hidden in the house. And Charlotte thinks it’s her duty to protect it.”

  While Gabby mulled over the idea of a treasure map tucked away behind a brick in the old house, she heard Zach come into the room. In the light from the fireplace, he was even more handsome. His deep-set eyes were a piercing blue. His shaggy brown hair curled over the collar of his plaid shirt. When she looked at him, she couldn’t help grinning.

  He didn’t smile back.

  “Now you’ve heard the legend,” he said. “I suggest you forget all about it.”

  Chapter Three

  The last thing Zach needed was Rhoda filling Gabby’s head with wild stories about the Frenchman’s Treasure. This strange woman from Brooklyn might start tearing down the Roost in the hope of getting rich quick. He took a sip from his steaming mug of herbal tea and gazed into the fire on the hearth, trying his best not to notice how Gabby was clutching the striped blanket over her half-naked body. Didn’t this woman ever wear clothes?

  “Why should I forget the treasure?” she asked.

  Rhoda answered for him. “Zach thinks that if the treasure or a treasure map ever existed, they would have been found by now. And I guess that makes sense. People have been searching for over a hundred and fifty years.”

  “When it comes to secrets,” Gabby said, “time doesn’t matter.”

  What the hell was she talking about? He knew that asking for an explanation would open a can of worms, but he couldn’t let her statement stand unchallenged. “Tell me more.”

  “Think about the archaeologists in Egypt. They’re still finding artifacts in the sand, and those things have been hidden for thousands of years.”

  He hadn’t expected her to talk about archaeology.

  “I went to a King Tut exhibit in Manhattan,” she said. When she gestured, her blanket slipped, giving him another glimpse of the leopard bra. “You wouldn’t believe all the gold. And those thousands of years didn’t matter. Finding things is just a matter of knowing where to look.”

  “This is different,” he said.

  “Think about the last time you lost something and couldn’t find it,” she said. “You search and you search and you just can’t locate it. A couple of days later, you remember that you were in the kitchen when you lost it. You go to the drawer by the door and...ta da! There it is.”

  Her logic made a certain amount of sense, but Zach wasn’t going to concede. He was right about the treasure map. “Michelle used to travel a lot. She’d leave the house vacant for days at a time. We tried to keep an eye on things, but anybody who wanted to search could have gotten in.”

  “Zach’s right,” Rhoda said. “Treasure hunters have had plenty of chances to poke around at the Roost.”

  “Why is Charlotte so worried about it?” Gabby asked.

  Rhoda made a tsk-tsk sound. “On the day of Michelle’s memorial service, her house was broken into and some of her things were tossed around. They took the typical stuff like computers, a television and electronics. Sheriff Burton thought it was just a burglary.”

  “But he investigated,” Gabby said. “At least, I hope he investigated. That’s his job.”

  “The sheriff did all he could.” He didn’t appreciate her implication that law enforcement in this area was less stringent than it would be in a city.

  “Did he find fingerprints?”

  “The thieves wore gloves,” he said. “Even out here in the middle of nowhere, criminals know how to avoid being caught.”

  He’d been with the sheriff when his deputies studied the crime scene. They’d all come to the same conclusion. Michelle was a wealthy woman, and the thieves had hoped to find something of value while everyone was out of the house at the memorial service. The only person who thought of the Frenchman’s Treasure was Charlotte.

  “Maybe Michelle’s death triggered some kind of clue,” Gabby said. “Was there anything in her will?”

  “That’s a thought,” Rhoda said. “We should check with the lawyer.”

  Zach shot her a glare. He couldn’t believe Rhoda was considering Gabby’s nonsense. “Michelle’s will isn’t public information. The thieves wouldn’t know about it.”

  Gabby wasn’t deterred. “Bad guys could have broken into the lawyer’s office and—”

  “Forget about the treasure.” He paused to sip his tea. “If I believed there was a real danger from treasure hunters, I wouldn’t leave Charlotte alone in the house.”

  “Is that so?” Gabby arched an eyebrow. In spite of being a drenched mess with her hair hanging in limp strands and makeup smearing her cheeks, she managed to look sophisticated. “And I suppose you’re never wrong.”

  “Seldom,” he said.

  For a long moment, she held his gaze. He recognized the defiance in her dark brown eyes. She wasn’t the sort of woman who was going to take orders and back down. Everything he said, he would have to prove. For the first time, he saw the family resemblance. Gabby was a lot like her great-aunt.

  Rhoda stood. “Why don’t you come with me, Gabby? I’ll get you some dry clothes. Then Zach can take you back to the Roost.”

  Without looking away from him, she said, “Not on horseback.”

  “He’ll take the truck,” Rhoda promised.

  Zach watched as the two women went down the hall toward the bedrooms. Gabby was going to be a handful, no doubt about it. He’d been prepared not to like her. During those last difficult months when Michelle’s health was failing, Gabby couldn’t be bothered to visit. And yet, when she heard of her inheritance, she hightailed it across the country to stake her claim.

  Before he met her, he was ready to dismiss her as an ungrateful, greedy relation who only wanted to take advantage of her great-aunt’s inheritance. But now, he wasn’t so sure. She had an innocence that seemed real. She wasn’t a great beauty but she carried herself with confidence, even while wearing those sandals.

  Dealing with her was going to be complicated. He looked down into his mug of herbal tea and wished it was whiskey. One day at a time, he had to take Gabby one day at a time.

  * * *

  GABBY FELT ALMOST human after washing her face, dragging a comb through her chin-length hair and changing into dry clothes. On the bottom, she wore a pair of Rhoda’s faded red sweatpants that were Capri-length on her long legs. The zip-up sweatshirt fit just fine on top. Shoes were a problem. Gabby’s feet were at least two sizes larger than Rhoda’s and much too small to fit into a pair of sneakers belonging to Zach. For now, her sandals would have to do.

  When she climbed into the passenger seat of Zach’s big, old truck, she was hit by the smell of dirt and wet dog. “Do you have a dog?”

  “Three.”

  “I’m guessing they aren’t pocket poodles that fit nicely in a Gucci bag.”

  “Two hounds for hunting and a border collie named Daphne.” He looked over his shoulder. “I’m surprised Daphne didn’t run up to meet you when you crossed onto my property.”

  “Is she a guard dog?”

  “She’s a border collie,” he said in a tone that you’d use with a slow learner. “The breed is known for their intelligence.”

  “So Daphne probably took one look at me and decided I wasn’t a threat.”

  “Yep.”

  When he cranked the engine, the radio came on. Of course, it was tuned to a country and western station. She had dozens of more questions, but talking to Zach had thus far proved futile. The man seemed determined to either ignore her or snap her head off every time she opened her mouth. Still, it didn’t hurt to keep asking. “How old is Charlotte?”

  “Don’t know,” he said.

  “Could we call a truce? I’ve
had enough of the strong, silent treatment.”

  He shrugged.

  “I know you’re lying about not knowing anything about Charlotte,” she said.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because you care about what happens to the kid. When you said that you’d protect her from treasure hunters, your voice was forceful.” She’d liked his protective, masculine tone. “And your jaw was as hard as steel. You’re not going to let anything bad happen to her.”

  “Damn right, I won’t.”

  “So, how old is she?”

  “Eighteen or nineteen. She stopped going to high school last year. I’m not sure if she graduated.”

  The road between the two houses was filled with ruts. The rain had stopped but the tires splashed through puddles as they drove. “Has Charlotte talked to you about her future plans?”

  “Nope.”

  “Rhoda said her parents were out of the picture. I’m guessing the girl doesn’t have a place to live. Do you think she’d be willing to stay with me for a while?”

  “Do you want her to stay?”

  “Of course, I do.” Gabby hadn’t expected to find anyone at the Roost, but she was glad to have bumped into a possible cohort, even Crazy Girl. “For one thing, I need all the help I can get.”

  “That’s for damn sure,” he muttered.

  “For another, I don’t want to kick Charlotte out before she’s ready to go. I appreciate what she did for Michelle.” If Gabby had been closer to her great-aunt, she might have known when her health was failing. “I nursed my other great-aunt Rene in the last years of her life, and I know that caring for the elderly isn’t easy, even when they’re cool like Michelle. I wish I’d been here.”

  The first time she heard of Michelle’s death was a phone call from her lawyer, Jason Fox. He’d faxed a copy of the will and Michelle’s last wishes to be cremated and have her ashes spread. Gabby really hadn’t known her great-aunt well enough to grieve, but she’d felt empty, like a part of her was gone. It hadn’t seemed like there was anything left for her to do.

  Zach cleared his throat. “Rhoda asked Charlotte if she wanted to stay with us, but she refused.”

  “Because of the treasure hunters.”

  “She and Michelle were real close,” he said. “It’s going to be hard for her to let go.”

  Empathy and understanding from Zach? That was a surprise. “Does Charlotte have other friends? Somebody her own age?”

  “She likes working with the horses.”

  “Like you.”

  She knew almost nothing about him but suspected there were interesting stories about how the former rodeo star became the owner of a successful horse ranch. Now wasn’t the time to push for details, but she was curious.

  When they pulled up in front of the house, she saw that Charlotte had been busy in her absence. She’d moved the suitcases and boxes from the back of Gabby’s car to the front porch of the house, and she’d gotten dressed. In her jeans and puffy vest with her long hair tied back and a navy blue Denver Broncos baseball cap on her head, she looked like a teenager—a teenage boy. When it came to clothing, Charlotte was definitely the “before” version—sorely in need of a makeover.

  She tromped through the mud to Gabby’s side of the truck and yanked the door open. “I’m sorry.”

  Gabby noticed the red splotch on the side of her face where she’d hit her with the pepper spray. “I’m sorry, too.”

  When she climbed down from the cab of the truck, Gabby couldn’t help but notice Charlotte’s discomfort. The thin girl shifted her weight back and forth. Her eyes were downcast. Her arms folded around her middle, and her shoulders hunched as though she was expecting to be beaten. This behavior wasn’t the way to make friends. Gabby’s second lesson—after she showed Charlotte the wonders of moisturizing—would be on how to meet people without curling into a ball of nervousness.

  “Come here.” Gabby pulled her close and gave her a hug. “I truly, deeply appreciate everything you did for my great-aunt.”

  “You got it backward,” Charlotte said. “Michelle took me in and gave me a place to live.”

  “And you cared for her. All I know from the lawyer was that she died from heart failure. Was she in the hospital?”

  “Only once.”

  Charlotte tried to pull away, but Gabby held her. “Can you tell me about it? What did the doctors say?”

  “They put in a stent.” Her voice was a little shaky. “They found other medical problems. With her lungs and her liver. The doctors said she didn’t have long to live. They wanted her to stay at the hospital and rest, but...” Her voice trailed off into silence.

  “I didn’t know my aunt well,” Gabby said, “but I know she made her own choices and lived her life the way she wanted. I expect she chose the way she wanted to die.”

  “At home.” A sob trembled through Charlotte’s narrow shoulders. “As soon as she could walk, she got out of that hospital bed and hired a nurse to come back to the Roost with us and take care of her medication.”

  “You did everything you could to help.”

  “It wasn’t enough.”

  Charlotte collapsed against her. Though her body was wrenched with powerful emotion, she didn’t make a sound. Her silent tears touched Gabby’s heart. This poor girl had no support system whatsoever. There had been times in Gabby’s life when she’d felt alone and bereft of family, but her experience was nothing compared to Charlotte’s abject loneliness.

  Gently, Gabby stroked her back. The girl was so thin that her ribs stuck out. She felt as delicate as a baby bird. Looking past Charlotte’s shoulder, Gabby saw Zach watching them from the porch. His expression was oddly gentle, and he almost seemed to be smiling.

  “It’s okay,” Gabby murmured. “We’re going to take care of each other. Do you think you can stay here with me?”

  “Yes,” Charlotte said quickly. She broke away from the hug, sniffled and looked Gabby in the eye. “I’m really glad I didn’t shoot you.”

  It went without saying that Gabby was also happy about that outcome. “We need to talk about that gun.”

  With her sleeve, Charlotte wiped the moisture from her cheeks in a gesture that couldn’t have been less feminine. “I need the rifle. There are these guys who are trying to break into the house. Treasure hunters.”

  “But I’m here now,” Gabby said. “Nobody will try to break in with both of us here.”

  “What if they do?”

  “We call the police.”

  “It’ll take them at least a half hour to get here.”

  She hadn’t thought of the timing. Living at the end of a rutted road without street signs was different than being in Brooklyn. “I don’t like guns.”

  “Because you don’t know how to use them,” Zach said. “If you’re going to live here, you need to learn how to defend yourself and your property.”

  “Zach can show you,” Charlotte said. “He’s a really good teacher. Maybe tomorrow you can have a lesson.”

  “Great,” she muttered. “Until then, can we at least put the gun away somewhere? Leaving it on the stair landing seems dangerous.”

  “Yes, it does.” Zach gave Charlotte a puzzled look. “Have you got an explanation?”

  “I couldn’t sleep, and I was going upstairs and then back downstairs. If I was all the way down in the kitchen, my rifle wasn’t going to do me much good if it was up in my bedroom closet. So I left it in the middle.”

  “You know better,” he said. “You don’t leave a loaded weapon out where anybody could pick it up and use it.”

  She scowled. “I know.”

  “Gabby could have stumbled over the rifle and caused an accident.”

  “I get it.” Charlotte rolled her eyes. “It’s lucky that both Gabby and me are going to be staying here. If you put the two of us together, you have one smart person.”

  Before Gabby could object to being labeled as Tweedle-Dee to Charlotte’s Tweedle-Dum, she heard a confirming woof. On t
he porch, sitting beside her pile of belongings, was a black-and-white dog with pointed ears. One eye was blue and the other brown. The dog seemed to be grinning at them. “Daphne?”

  “What’s she doing here?” Zach asked.

  Charlotte went to the dog and scratched behind her ears. “Right after Gabby took off, Daphne showed up and started following me. She hasn’t let me out of her sight. It feels like she’s herding me.”

  “Keeping you safe.” Zach looked over his shoulder, scanning the darkness that surrounded the house. “Daphne senses things we don’t see.”

  A psychic collie? Gabby would have laughed if she hadn’t felt a prickling on the back of her neck. She didn’t want to think about the coyotes and other possible dangers that Daphne might be seeing with her two-colored eyes.

  * * *

  ABOUT A MILE from the front porch of the Roost, a man in black crouched beside a fence post and peered through the night vision scope mounted on his rifle. He wanted a better look at the new girl. In spite of the three times magnification, he couldn’t make out details at this distance. She was taller than average and kind of clumsy in the way she walked. And she was a hugger. When she’d wrapped her arms around Charlotte, a flicker of envy had gone through him. He’d been keeping an eye on sweet little Charlotte for the past month and had developed an interest in her, even though the girl was as plain as a female sage grouse.

  Having another person at the Roost would make his search more complicated, and time was running out. He needed a new tactic, needed to be smarter. The more he thought about it, the more he suspected that Michelle had hidden what he was looking for. At this point, he didn’t care as much about the money as he did about the potential prison time. He wouldn’t let himself be locked away. Sweat trickled between his shoulder blades. His knit cap was itchy on his ears. He wasn’t going to let anyone take away the expensive goodies he’d been buying for himself. He’d taken the risk and deserved those things.