Heartbreak Ranch: Amy's StoryJosie's StoryHarmony's StoryArabella's Story

by Chelley Kitzmiller

  Pacing over to the window, she held the drapery aside and looked out at the night sky. From the second-floor vantage point she could see across the dark basin and the foothills beyond. William was out there somewhere, hopefully in Havilah or very near it by now. She pictured the tall, handsome Hawaiian with smiling eyes walking into the Golden Gate Hotel, summoning the clerk, settling into his room.

  Was he thinking of her?

  She groaned. How could he not when she had all but thrown herself at him? The thought of what might have happened if he had been a bit more receptive sent a chill down her spine. Alternately cold and then hot, she pressed her cheek against the cool windowpane and sighed.

  “Oh, Mama,” she whispered into the darkness. “What in the world am I going to do?” Josie closed her eyes and tried to think of what her mother might advise and she recalled the day her mother lay dying. Walker Heart had already passed on and Amy, although not yet fifty, had lost the will to go on without him.

  Josie’s own bout of yellow fever had been slight and, afterward, she and Magdalena had nursed both Walker and Amy. Near the end of her mother’s life, Josie had hovered at Amy’s bedside all day, refusing to leave. The trees had cast long afternoon shadows across the lawn when Amy awoke and said in a thready voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve taught you all I know, Josie, honey. You’re more than capable of running Heartbreak Ranch. That’s why I don’t mind leaving it in your hands.”

  “But, Mama,” she had protested as tears streamed down her face, “you can’t give up. You’re young yet. I need you—”

  Amy slowly moved her head from side to side on the pillow. “You have Clay and the others. And there’s Julian. He’s such a gentleman.”

  Her mother had always wanted a gentleman for Josie. Someone with an impeccable background and social standing. Josie didn’t know why it was so important to her mother that she marry well, especially when her papa openly admitted he didn’t care a whit about gentlemen. All he had ever wanted to be was a rancher, and he hoped Amy would never throw him off the place. Every time he said it, they would laugh and share a secret smile.

  Now, as Josie stood in their room staring out at the night, she could almost hear her mother’s dying words. “God forbid you should ever reach a point where your life looks bleak, Josie, but if you’re in need, dire need, darling, look through the old trunk up in the attic. It’s your Grandma Bella’s legacy to us. It will help you find the strength to face anything.”

  Josie figured that if a withering heart didn’t constitute dire need, then she didn’t know what might. She couldn’t understand why this overwhelming desire for Will Ipo possessed her so. Perhaps there was some hidden flaw in her, some explanation for this obsession.

  She picked up the lamp and hurried down the hallway to the door that led to the attic stairs. Holding the lamp aloft in one hand and gathering the material of her gown in the other, she carefully walked up the narrow stairway.

  The attic was cold and drafty and smelled musty. When she dropped the long skirt of her nightgown and the flounce grazed the floor, it sent up a puff of dust that made her sneeze. She looked around until she spied an old leather trunk shoved up against one wall.

  “This is a wild-goose chase, Josie Heart.” She chided herself in a whisper as she crossed the dusty, creaking floorboards and bent down, holding the lamp closer to the trunk. Propped up behind it was a large, rectangular object covered with a yellowed sheet. Curious, Josie carefully set down the lamp at a safe distance and went back to tug at the fabric. The sheet fell aside, partially exposing a gilt-framed portrait of a woman who looked startlingly like her mother. Because the trunk sat in front of the huge frame, only the woman’s hauntingly familiar face with violet eyes and one bare shoulder were visible.

  Josie grabbed a leather handle and pulled the trunk aside. Her eyes went wide and she gasped when the artwork was revealed in all its startling glory. There, reclining on her side on a velvet chaise, naked as the day she was born, lay her mother. Too stunned to move, Josie stood for a moment and stared as jumbled thoughts raced through her mind.

  Amy Duprey Heart—the woman who had always insisted on good manners and a show of good breeding, her mother, a paragon of virtue—posing nude on a chaise longue? It was unfathomable. Unthinkable.

  Still in shock, Josie sank to her knees and alternately stared at the portrait and then the trunk, as if the latter were Pandora’s box. Had it not been for her mother’s last words, she would have been afraid to open it for fear of what dark secrets lay inside.

  “Look through the old trunk up in the attic.... Grandma Bella’s legacy...help you find the strength to face anything...”

  The trunk was unlocked. She reached out and tugged on the latch. The long unused hinges creaked as she slowly lifted the lid, peering curiously into the dark recesses of the old trunk. Instead of the musty smell she expected, a heady, unrecognizable herbal scent that reminded her a bit of lemons wafted out of the interior of the trunk.

  Some kind of heavy fabric lay on top, hiding whatever was beneath it. She lifted the material, realizing that it was a garment of rich, red velvet. She raised the piece in her hands and watched as it unwound to reveal a scarlet gown with a deep, plunging neckline.

  “Oh, good heavens!” she whispered, and let the dress fall into her lap. Reaching into the trunk she lifted out an intriguing wooden box. An intricate painting of a tiger decorated the shining, varnished lid. In the lamplight, the tiger’s twin emerald eyes appeared to be winking up at her. She fiddled with the lid and found yellowed playing cards inside. With a shrug, she set the box on the floor.

  How much time had passed she didn’t know, but she was aware that she didn’t have much of it to waste. Will Ipo would be on his way to Los Angeles tomorrow and if he stopped by to say goodbye, she wanted one more chance with him. Desperate for something that would give her hope, Josie fished around inside the trunk and pulled out a jeweled dog collar.

  Grimacing, she rolled her eyes. Toddy. The collar could only have belonged to Toddy, the disgusting dog that her mother had inherited from Bella Duprey. From the day she was born, Toddy had always treated her as an intruder, so Josie had stayed away from the hateful creature and had only vague memories of the huge poodle. Her mother dearly loved the old thing, even when the dog had been obnoxious enough to up and die of a heart attack right in the middle of Josie’s fourth birthday party.

  The creature’s untimely death had sent Amy into hysterics, which in turn had frightened Josie and her young guests half to death. It had taken all of Walker’s and Clay’s patience and perseverance to calm the children, but the party was beyond salvaging. Her mother had the men build a small stone mausoleum to mark the dog’s grave site. Toddy’s final resting place overlooked the ranch from the hillside across from the house.

  Josie snorted and tossed the glittering collar back into the trunk.

  Then she saw it: a leather journal lying in the bottom of the trunk next to a collection of bottles and vials, some still half-filled with liquid. She took out the journal, careful not to disturb any of the mysterious vials.

  Leafing through the book, she could tell immediately that the many copiously filled pages had not been penned in her mother’s hand. The front piece explained that the journal was that of Bella Duprey. It contained sections, one on something called “Captivating Your Man,” one entitled, “Toddy’s Tricks and Commands.” Another section was “My Life—Bella Duprey,” followed by “Recipes for Romance and Other Concoctions.”

  Josie’s gaze flew back to the portrait. The eyes of the reclining nude seemed to be staring directly into her own. She found it hard to look away. When she shifted closer to the light, the journal dropped atop the gown that was still lying in her lap. A loose page fell out and fluttered to the floor beside her. Josie lifted the folded page, opened it and recognized her mother’s handwriting.

  Josie dearest,

  If you are reading this, then it is because I am not with you and you hav
e turned to your grandmother for help. Although you never knew her, Bella Duprey was an incomparable woman with quite a reputation, one I kept hidden from you for reasons that will become obvious once you read through this journal.

  I was never ashamed of my mother or of what she did, for without her I would never have met your father or come to Heartbreak Ranch, but I intended to keep her history from you, until you were old enough to understand. As you read, you will realize what a strong-willed woman Bella was and I hope you will draw on the same strength to overcome whatever difficulties you are now facing. Mother left this journal for me and all of her descendants, struggled to pen it in English so that future generations could read it and use her knowledge.

  There is a portrait of Bella that used to hang over our bed until you were born. Your father and I decided that it should be stored. Perhaps you will be able to locate that in the attic, too.

  Dear Josie, I wish I could be there for you, but as I am not, I hope you will find the answers you need in the pages of this book.

  Always remember me,

  Your loving mother

  The hours sped by as Josie sat on the dusty floor with the journal open in her lap. As she scanned the pages of the book in the dim lamplight, she would occasionally glance over at the portrait of the woman whose life had been so colorfully chronicled by her own hand. For a second she thought the portrait of Bella was smiling at her, but dismissed the feeling as the result of lack of sleep.

  No one could have slept through the adventures of Bella Duprey. From life on the streets of France to fame on the Barbary Coast, Bella tamed men and made a name for herself, leaving her every triumph and discovery carefully noted for her descendants.

  Immersed in skimming through the compelling material, ever mindful that her time was running out, Josie nearly gave up hope of ever finding a way to win Will Ipo’s heart. That is, until she discovered a passage in “The Art of Fascination” headed “Things to Do with Champagne.”

  As she read the unbelievable sexual acts suggested, she was alternately scandalized and then convinced she must have inherited more from Bella than a trunk and violet eyes. Obviously she was cursed with the same hot, harlot’s blood—for as she perused the detailed instructions for making love with a partner under the influence of an elixir mixed with champagne, she easily imagined herself in the role of a wild temptress beguiling Will Ipo. Not once did thoughts of Julian Fairchild interrupt her fantasy.

  Poor Julian. No matter what the outcome of tomorrow’s meeting with Will—if there was another encounter with the Hawaiian at all—she was bound and determined to call the wedding off. She could never marry Julian now, not after knowing what real, soul-shattering love felt like.

  As the lamp oil burned low, a new aura of sensuality came over her. She felt bold and daring, challenged rather than stymied. No longer desperate, but determined, Josie slammed the journal closed. She put the tiger box inside the trunk and gathered up the journal with the red velvet dress and the vial she needed, then closed the trunk lid. She carried the items to the bottom of the stairs and then returned for the portrait. Bella deserved to be ensconced in her rightful place over the bed. Perhaps her grandmother’s painting would bring her luck.

  In the kitchen, she moved with the stealth of a thief as she flew down the steps to the cold cellar below the pantry and found the two remaining bottles of champagne in her parents’ meager collection of wine.

  She raced to her room, dropped the supplies on the bed and hung up the dress. She sneaked back to the cellar to chip ice from the blocks stored in a straw-filled oak box and hurried up to her room to chill the champagne.

  Then, too excited to sleep, she curled up with the journal again and read until just before dawn. When she could no longer hold her eyes open, she slipped Bella’s journal beneath her pillow and fell asleep.

  Her dreams were full of vignettes in a Barbary Coast bordello, where she and Will Ipo cavorted on satin sheets beneath the portrait of Bella Duprey.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WILL WAS FULLY convinced he was an idiot. He wasn’t asking for trouble, he was begging for it as he stood sheltered from the spring rain on the front porch of the Heartbreak Ranch house, knocking at the door. When no one answered immediately, he quickly turned to leave, but before he took a step, the door swung open behind him.

  “Will?”

  The sound of her voice pierced his heart. When he turned around, Josie was standing in the doorway smiling back at him. But something was different—no longer was her heart in her eyes. In fact, the change in her was so dramatic, all he could do was stare.

  Slowly she sized him up as if he were an ahi caught in a net. Her confident smile—so different from the hopeful, pleading expression she’d worn last night—was so bold, so intriguing, that he was speechless.

  “I’m so glad you took the time to stop by again,” she said lightly. “Come in. No need to stand out there in the rain.”

  “I can’t stay long,” he finally managed as he whipped off his hat and stepped over the threshold. He followed her into the now familiar parlor with its arrangement of settees, tables covered with bric-a-brac and books, the piano draped with a fringed shawl.

  “Surely you have time for a cup of tea.” She shook out his wet duster and hung it on a nearby hall tree alongside his hat.

  “Just one,” he said, wishing he felt happier that she had obviously gotten over her infatuation. He wished he could say the same for himself.

  “I’ll get the tea,” she said, heading for the kitchen. “I’ve already got the water boiling.”

  He started to follow her out of the parlor. “Where’s your cook?”

  She halted abruptly in the narrow hall and slowly smiled. “I gave Lena two days off. She’s been wanting to go into Caliente to visit with her sister and see her nieces and nephews. After she worked so hard with Mrs. Fairchild to put the engagement party together, I thought she could use the rest.”

  Knowing they were alone together in the house made Will uneasy. True, it was broad daylight outside, still early afternoon, but they were unmarried and without chaperones. He told himself his discomfort stemmed from the fact that he had found it hard to sleep for thinking of Josie. His wayward thoughts were leftover from his state of mind last night.

  “I suppose Julian and his mother will be here to keep you company for dinner,” he said, trying to make conversation and purposely calling her fiancé to mind.

  “They’ve gone to Bakersfield for three days.” Her voice echoed in the hall.

  She would be alone tonight. Will sighed, determined to cut his stay even shorter.

  He paced the confines of the parlor until she returned with the tea tray. It was impossible not to notice the way her hips swayed provocatively as she crossed the room and bent to set the tray on the tea table in front of the fireplace. A low fire burned behind the grate, taking the chill and dampness out of the room.

  Will moved to stand in front of the fireplace and held his hands out to the warmth. Although the Californians were proclaiming it spring and shedding their winter clothes, he had never been so cold.

  Josie straightened. He watched her reach up with both hands as she tucked a loose strand of dark amber hair into the bun on the crown of her head. The movement caused her breasts to thrust upward. What was a man to do, but stare?

  “One lump or two?”

  Will nearly choked. “What?”

  “In your tea. One lump of sugar, or two?”

  “Three,” he finally managed, indulging his sweet tooth.

  She smiled up at him as she used delicate silver tongs to drop three cubes of sugar into a cup of steaming brew. As she handed him the delicate cup and saucer, which were almost too small to hold in his big hands, Josie looked directly at his mouth.

  “It’s a special recipe of my grandmother’s. It might take a sip or two for you to get used to the taste,” she said.

  Will pursed his lips and blew on the steaming liquid.

  Jos
ie appeared content to watch.

  “Aren’t you having any?” he asked her, blowing over the rim of the cup again.

  “Mine’s cooling.” She pointed to a cup of tea already poured and resting on the tray. “Why don’t we sit down?”

  He sat. Will continued to stare at her over the rim of the teacup. Perched uncomfortably on the edge of the settee, he felt like an awkward giant caught up in the spell of a dainty, beautiful enchantress.

  He took a sip of tea, looked up and found Josie smiling at him with satisfaction.

  “Tastes like almonds,” he said.

  “It’s mostly herbs. Very relaxing.”

  “I shouldn’t get too relaxed. I want to get to Caliente before sundown.” He thought he saw a flash of panic in her eyes, but after studying her carefully, he decided he was mistaken. She appeared as calm and collected as when she opened the door to greet him.

  They shared tea and ginger cakes and all the while Will felt himself grow more uncomfortable, unable to concentrate on the conversation. After two and a half cups of tea he had let himself become lulled by the cheery warmth of the room, so much so that he didn’t feel like moving, even though he knew he had to leave.

  Josie’s smiles were far too tempting. He wanted to drink in her essence, to commit her every smile, every movement to memory. Then when he returned to Hawaii he would have the images of this last afternoon with her to remember.

  * * *

  JOSIE WATCHED Will sink into the lethargy described in the section of Bella’s journal entitled “Recipes for Romance and Other Concoctions.” It was all she could do to keep from leaping off the settee and putting the rest of her plan for the evening into action, but she forced herself to follow Bella’s instructions to the letter, to savor each and every moment and let the elixir take effect.