Whispers on the Wind

by Brenda Jernigan

  Could somebody have been in the cabin? But if they had been, she would have remembered. Wouldn’t she?

  Snatching up the scrap, she stuffed it into the pocket of her dress, hoping that one day she’d remember everything. Something terrible had happened tonight, and she was the only one who could figure it out

  Looking around the cabin one last time, Mary slipped on her heavy wool coat This cabin had been home for the last two years, but as always, Mary had never had a home for long. Something always happened. The mine had been her one hope of being able to support herself, and now that she was successful she had to leave. Glancing around, she realized her dreams had come to an end.

  She might be a wealthy mine owner but little good it would do her with murder hanging over her head.

  “But I’m not guilty, Jim,” she whispered to her silent friend. “I swear I’ll remember and find out who killed you.”

  The snow had started falling harder as the gray morning light replaced the inky black of the night before. Mary didn’t have the slightest idea where she was going. She just knew she had to get off the mountain and put some distance between herself and Gregory Gulch.

  She kept her head down to keep the snow out of her eyes as she rode, lost in her thoughts. She couldn’t go home to her sister’s even though she had planned a trip next week. If whoever had killed Jim figured out who she was, Brandy’s would be the first place they would look. She didn’t want that kind of trouble for Brandy and her family. When she’d left home, Mary had said she was big enough to take care of herself and she was, even though right now she could use someone to lean on, like her brother Billy. But she hadn’t seen him in two years, and the last letter she’d received from Brandy a couple of months ago had said that Billy and Claire were expecting their first baby. Mary couldn’t run to Billy for help. His wife needed him.

  How in the world was she going to prove herself innocent? She knew running wasn’t going to help the situation, but she had to have time to remember what had happened. And still the big question hung over her head. Why? That was the one thing that puzzled her. She had no reason to kill anyone. Certainly not Jim. He’d been like the father that she’d never known.

  There was no telling who her real father was. Since her mother had worked in a whorehouse, she probably had no idea who Mary’s father was, either. Mary hadn’t grown up like normal children. She had always had to be quiet when the men visited the house, so she’d learned to keep to herself and play with the one doll she had.

  Sometimes her mother would sit down and play with her. Mary smiled. That was her fondest memory of her mother.

  When the ladies of Independence, Missouri, took Mary away from her mother, her mother really didn’t make much of a fuss. At first Mary thought it was because her mother didn’t love her, but as she’d grown older she’d wondered if it was because her mother wanted Mary to have a better life. But going to the orphanage wasn’t something that Mary had wanted to do. She had to admit that she had been a wee bit rebellious—all right, perhaps she’d been very rebellious, but she hadn’t known how to fit in with the other children. It had taken a long time before all the misfits had become their own family. But they had survived and even made a home for themselves in Denver. And then one day a letter arrived for Mary.

  The one good thing Mary’s mother had done for her was to give her the deed to a gold mine, and that’s where Jim had come in. He had been different.

  She loved how he had treated her like a daughter, but also as an equal, particularly after she’d proven she could hold her own doing the hard mining work.

  The wind whipped around Mary, dusting her with fresh snow. She shivered uncontrollably as she snuggled deeper into her wool coat. She had never had nice clothes like other women, so she had always made do. But she was fast realizing that her coat wasn’t heavy enough for this kind of weather. The fluffy white flakes seemed to be clinging to the material until she looked like a snowman.

  Again Mary thought of her adopted family. How she longed to go and beg them to get her out of this mess. But she was too proud for that Plus she couldn’t take the chance of putting them in danger. She’d just have to figure a way out of this mess on her own.

  Unwanted tears sprang to her eyes, blinding her as she thought of Big Jim. He didn’t deserve to die like that, and her tears wouldn’t help him. The only thing that would help was for her to remember. Reaching up, she brushed the tears from her cheeks with fingers she realized were numb.

  Mary sighed. Her breath rose into the cold air and looked like steam escaping a boiling pot. She could never remember being so cold, but she couldn’t stop now; she had to keep going.

  She replayed yesterday in her mind. It had been a good day at the mine. They had hit another vein of gold, and she’d promised herself that after this vein had been mined out she would take her money and let other people work the claim. It was time for her to have a life and learn how to be a woman again.

  She and Jim had been in good moods as they’d returned to the cabin at the end of the day. Jim had mentioned that they would be having a guest for dinner, so she should keep her hat on, but after that everything else was a blur. She could see herself cooking supper and then nothing.

  “Oh, why can’t I remember?” Mary yelled. She grabbed her head as if she could squeeze the memory back into her mind.

  That was her big mistake. When she let the reins slip, the horse stepped into a hole, stumbling and pitching her forward. Mary screamed as she sailed off her horse. Her arms flailed in the air as a bank of snow loomed in front of her. The next thing she knew she was barreling headfirst into the snowdrift

  And the black hole once again swallowed her.

  Carter Monroe was damn sick and tired of snow.

  He felt like an animal with his bearskin coat, and he was just as grumpy. The fur was much too bulky, but it was necessary this time of year in the Rockies. He removed his Stetson as he rode and slapped it on his leg to rid it of snow, then settled it back on his head. He grunted and realized he was also beginning to sound like an animal.

  He glanced sideways at his deputy, Rick Mc- Callum. Rick had ridden with Carter for years. They were about the same size and temperament, but where Carter had dark hair and eyes, Rick had blond hair and blue eyes. Carter had to admit he liked Rick. He was a good one to put up with Carter’s grouchiness. “How much longer ’til spring?”

  “Hasn’t changed in the last hour—still three months away,” Rick said in his lazy drawl. “I think you’re getting old, Monroe.”

  “Right about now, I’d probably agree with you. My bones are starting to ache. I should have taken another assignment.”

  “Texas don’t sound bad,” Rick suggested.

  “A hell of a lot warmer, too.”

  Rick shifted in his saddle. “Just remember, Hank needs us until he can get on his feet again. ’Sides, it’s your hometown.”

  “I’d like to get my hands on the bastard who shot Hank. But I’m damn glad the bullet wasn’t fatal. At least it will be a chance to visit Ma again and get some good home cooking.”

  “That don’t sound bad at all. How long since you been home?”

  “Ma will tell you, too long.” Carter chuckled. “It’s been about two years. Maybe longer.”

  They had just rounded a bend when Rick hollered, “What’s that?”

  Carter peered ahead of them. Something black was protruding from the snow, and it didn’t have fur. “Looks like a body,” he said. “And I don’t see a horse, so it doesn’t look good.”

  When they reached the snow bank, they pulled their horses to a stop and Carter dismounted, tossing the reins to Rick. Carter made his way over to the drift, reached down, and grabbed a handful of wool. With one mighty jerk, he hauled the body out of the snow.

  “Is he dead?”

  As Carter turned the body around, the hat fell off and blond hair tumbled out across his arms. “Try she,” he corrected. He removed his glove and felt for a pulse on the si
de of her neck. “For the moment, she’s alive. But barely.” Carter brushed the snow from her face then sat her up. He shook the snow from her hair.

  “Need some help?” Rick asked.

  “No. Doesn’t look like there’s much to her.” Carter scooped the woman up in his arms, adding, “She has one hell of a knot on her head. She was either thrown or left for dead.”

  “No doubt But the question is, what is she doing way out here alone?”

  “Interesting question,” Carter said as he studied her face. Then he handed the girl to Rick. “I guess we’ll have to wait until she wakes up to find out.” “Hell, her lips are blue.” Rick cocked a brow as he frowned. “She might not wake up.”

  Once Carter mounted, he reached for the girl. “I’m aware of that” After several tries, he managed to unbutton her frozen coat Then he yanked it off her and handed it to Rick. “Here, you take that frozen coat, and I’ll take the girl.”

  “Some trade,” Rick grumbled as he folded the stiff wool and tied it on the back of his horse.

  Carter tucked the girl under his heavy coat, pulling her next to his body. Then he wrapped the fur back around them. A shiver shuddered through his body. Damn, the woman was cold. She was small, too, he thought.

  His mind burned with the memory of another woman. She’d been small, too. He let out a long, exhausted sigh. This one was going to need luck on her side if she was going to survive.

  They moved on, neither man choosing to talk. It had been a long three days.

  As they rode, the wind and snow increased until visibility was almost impossible. They trudged on until they could finally see the light of the small town of Appleton.

  Carter felt like a wood-burning stove by the time they came to a stop in front of the hotel. The girl’s body pressed next to him made his body burn.

  Rick dismounted first “I was beginning to think my butt had grown attached to that thing.” He pointed toward the saddle. “How is the girl?”

  Thawed.”

  Rick chuckled. “I’ll take the horses to the stables. You get the rooms.” He took Carter’s reins, then the girl.

  Carted dismounted before taking the girl back. He shifted her in his arms as he mounted the steps of the two-story, brown Stratford Hotel. For someone so little, the girl was becoming heavier by the moment Luckily, someone was coming out and held the door open for him to enter.

  “Obliged.” Carter nodded. When he reached the front desk, he said firmly, “I need two rooms and a doctor.”

  The clerk nodded. Funny, he didn’t even blink an eye at the bundle Carter carried as he said, “Sign here.”

  Maybe people dragged unconscious women into the hotel all the time.

  “My arms are a little occupied at the moment”

  “That’s your problem, mister.” The clerk hesitated, and Carter’s patience snapped.

  He leaned forward and said in a deadly calm voice, “The name is Carter Monroe, U.S. Marshal. I’m tired. And I’m hungry. If you don’t get the lead out, I’m going to mop up this floor with you.”

  The clerk’s eyes grew round as saucers. “Y—yes sir. Rooms ten and eleven are at the top of the stairs. And I’ll send somebody for Doc Elliot right away.”

  “That’s more like it” Carter took the keys, but kept his smile in check. Now why didn’t he get that kind of service when he’d first walked in? “My deputy will be here as soon as he stables the horses. Send him up to room ten.”

  Carter started for the stairs. His arms ached from the weight of the woman who hadn’t weighed that much when he’d first picked her up. Now he couldn’t wait to put his burden down and get out of his damn heavy coat

  Once in the room, he placed the girl on the bed and shrugged out of the wet fur, then tossed the long coat over a heavy chair in the corner to dry. He glanced around the room and decided it wasn’t bad.

  It was clean. There was a small fire in the fireplace which was the first thing that needed adjustment He tossed several logs onto the grate and stirred the coals until the flames were jumping over the logs.

  “That’s more like it” he said as he stood and wiped his hands. The heat felt good on his face. “We’ll be warm in a minute,” Carter told the unconscious girl. The color had returned to her face, but she had one hell of a knot on her forehead and dark circles under her eyes. He really couldn’t say she was pretty in her abused state. Her blond hair was tangled and dirty. He reached down and picked up a strand of hair, noticing there was dried blood on the end.

  Carter felt the hairs on the back on his neck stand on end. Hmm. He rubbed his chin. The blood hadn’t come from the knot on her head, so where had it come from? Maybe it was some sixth sense he had developed over the years as a lawman that warned him something was wrong with this woman. He’d bet a month’s pay she was running from something.

  The big question was, what?

  One thing was certain: he couldn’t get any answers until she woke up. He shrugged. Well, there wasn’t anything else he could do for the moment, so he washed up and changed into clean duds while he waited for the doctor.

  Twenty minutes later, Doc Elliot arrived. He shrugged out of his coat and grumbled, “Ain’t fit for man or beast out there. Surprised you made it, though.” The doctor turned and looked at Carter over his spectacles. “You don’t look sick.”

  Carter pointed toward the bed. “It’s the girl.” “Your wife?”

  “Nope.”

  “Hmm,” the doctor said as he placed his bag beside the bed. “Help me get the dress off her.” Together they removed the faded gray dress, and Carter placed it on the other side of the chair. He noticed her drawers were not fancy like most women’s, so she hadn’t come from wealth.

  The doctor began to examine her. He grunted and clicked his tongue, but no intelligent words came out of the man’s mouth.

  “Do you know her?” Carter asked.

  “Me?” Elliot gave him a quizzical look. “I thought she was with you.”

  “Nope. I found her upside down in a snow bank. Figured she could be a runaway or something and thought maybe she was from Appleton.”

  “Don’t think she’s from here. I know most folks around here, and I haven’t seen her before,” Doc

  Elliot said as he listened to her chest “Her heart is strong and her lungs are clear, so that’s a good sign. I’m a bit surprised she doesn’t have consumption from being out in the cold.”

  “I wonder where she’s from,” Carter said. “Maybe the mountain. There are lots of small mining towns up there, but I’ve never heard of a woman living on the mountain. Life’s too hard,” the doc said, and then he looked at her hands

  “However, appears she has done some hard work by these hands. But no woman could hold up under mining, so I’d rule that thought out”

  Someone knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” Carter called.

  Rick entered and nodded toward the doctor. “Horses are taken care of, and I’ve ordered us some grub. It will be ready shortly.”

  Carter made the introductions before asking the doctor, “What do you think about the girl?”

  Doc Elliot straightened and stretched the kinks out of his back. “She has a concussion”—he paused—“but other than that she appears healthy.”

  “What can we do for her?”

  “Not a thing,” Doc Elliot said as he placed his instruments back in his black beg. “She may wake up tomorrow or it may take several days.” He picked up his bag and turned toward Carter. “Seems the body is a strange instrument She might not be able to tell you anything when she comes to. Her memory could be gone or she could be completely normal and then all your worries will be over. If anything changes tonight, call for me.”

  “I’ll do that Thanks, Doc,” Carter said.

  After the door shut Rick pushed away from the wall. “So what are we going to do with her?”

  Carter’s expression was tight with strain. “Damned if I know,” he said with a sigh. “Let’s get something
to eat. I’ve suddenly developed a rip-roaring headache.”

  Rick chuckled. “Yep, and there it lies in bed.”

  Chapter Two

  Carter wasn’t sure he’d enjoyed dinner as his thoughts reluctantly kept returning to the unconscious woman upstairs, but at least his stomach had quit growling. And they were inside, out of the miserable snow. Spring couldn’t come soon enough for him.

  Rick had grumbled all through dinner about how sorry his company was, and he was probably right. Carter had been quiet throughout the meal. Usually they’d discuss the next day, but tonight Rick had talked and Carter had barely managed to grunt his replies. He’d never admit to his sidekick that his mind was upstairs because then Rick would never let him alone about the girl.

  They had left the table and were headed for the stairs when Rick asked him, “You want to bunk with me?”

  “No. I’d better keep an eye out for our pris—I mean the girl, in case she wakes up. Don’t want her to bolt before I have some answers,” Carter said with a grin. “If I get tired, I’ll sleep on top of the blanket, so she doesn’t wake up crying rape.”

  “Yep.” Rick chuckled. “I’d hate to have to arrest you.”

  Carter turned the doorknob and entered the room while Rick stood back leaning against the doorjamb.

  Carter arched his brow. “Arrest me? That will be the day.”

  “You can’t possibly care one thing about that little filly.”

  “Of course, I don’t,” Carter snapped, then he jerked his arm toward the girl. “Look at her. She looks like something the cats dragged in, but she’s also very young and, at the moment, helpless. I know I’ve been accused of being a coldhearted SOB, but I do have compassion once in a while.”

  Rick gave him a half smile. “I’ll guess somehow I missed that side of your sterling personality. I bet the outlaws you’ve hauled in would have a different opinion.”

  “A criminal doesn’t deserve compassion,” Carter said as he sat down on one of the chairs by the fireplace to remove his boots. “The ones I’ve met are guilty until proven innocent.”