While the men ate, Molly hovered nearby in case there was something they needed. The men generally ignored her, and she appreciated that, for she didn’t like to call attention to herself, and the men seemed to respect her. Initially, Charles had hated her helping Angelita, but now that he knew what she was, he’d probably encourage it. It didn’t matter. She rather enjoyed it, except for mornings like this, when there was so much tension between her and Buck, she could almost slice it with a switchblade.
After the men had eaten and left to attend their chores, and the kitchen was cleaned up in preparation for another meal, Molly sat down at the long table with a cup of coffee. She’d barely taken a sip when Nicolette burst in through the back door. She stood and stared at Molly, her face crestfallen.
“Oh, Margaret … I’m so glad you’re all right. I’m sorry you had to go through such a terrible thing.”
Her genuine concern and dismay touched Molly’s heart. She wished, for Nicolette’s sake, that things could have been different for them. “It’s over, and I’m fine, honey. Let’s not dwell on it.”
Nicolette hurried to her and gently touched her splint. “And this. They did this to you?”
Molly reached out and tugged Nicolette toward her. “Come and sit with me.”
The girl slumped onto the bench. “Oh, Margaret. Things just seem to be falling apart.” She looked at Molly, her brow pinched with worry. “Is … is it true that you’re not going to marry Charles because you have Indian blood?”
Molly pushed a wayward curl off the girl’s shoulder. “It’s true. But it’s really the other way around, Nicolette. It’s because of my Indian blood that your brother chooses not to marry me.”
Nicolette’s eyes filled. “I don’t want to believe he’s really that … that much of a bigot.” She rested her elbow on the table and put her chin in her hand. “I … I really thought he loved you to distraction.”
Molly was still weary from the kidnapping ordeal, and hadn’t yet gathered strength enough to toil in the kitchen without tiring, much less do verbal exercises with Nicolette. “Well, I’m afraid it’s true. All of it,” is all she said.
“Why didn’t you tell me? You know I don’t care about those things.”
Molly swung her gaze from her lap to Nicolette’s face. “But your brother does,” she answered softly. “And I … I thought I had to be sure of his love before I said anything about myself to anyone. It was really foolish, I know that now. I don’t know what I was thinking. Even if I had never told him, he’d surely have figured it out once my mother came to live with us.”
Nicolette gave her a puzzled look. “Your mother?”
“He probably didn’t mention her,” Molly said with a weary sigh.
When Nicolette shook her head, Molly added, “I somehow thought that since I didn’t look Indian, I could live my life without acting like one. I was a fool to think that could happen. My mother is a dear, dear woman. She’s a beautiful, delicate half-breed, Nicolette, and although she’s almost thirty-eight years old, she still acts very much like a young girl.”
She told Nicolette about her mother’s rape, about the people who loved both of them and helped raise her. She mentioned her secret need to become successful, to marry well, all because she desperately wanted to help care for her mother.
When she’d finished, Nicolette sat quietly for a while, then suddenly stood and ran from the room, her hand over her mouth as if she were trying to keep from bursting into tears.
Molly gave her a few minutes, then followed her. When she reached Nicolette’s room, she saw her on her knees in front of the chamber pot.
She rushed to the girl and knelt down beside her. “What’s wrong, honey? What is it?”
Nicolette lifted her head and gave Molly a look of pure, abject misery. “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” she whimpered through her tears. “For no reason at all, I get sick to my stomach. I’m perfectly fine,” she added, “then suddenly … suddenly I’m so sick I think I’m going to die.”
Dread twisted in Molly’s chest, curling around her heart and pinching her stomach. “Oh, dear. When was the last time you flowed?”
Nicolette gave her a pitiful look. “I don’t remember.”
Molly slid to the floor beside her and closed her eyes. No, not this. Anything but this.
“What’s … what’s wrong with me, Margaret? Do you … do you think it’s serious?”
Molly looked at Nicolette’s chalky face, her wide blue eyes and quivering mouth. She smoothed back the girl’s hair. “It’s serious, all right.” When Nicolette collapsed into tears, she added, “But it isn’t fatal.”
“I’m not going to die?”
Smiling grimly, Molly shook her head. “I think you’re going to have a baby.”
Nicolette blanched whiter, then she flushed.
Molly got to her feet, pulling Nicolette up after her. “Come on, little one. Tell me all about it.”
She grudgingly followed Molly into her room and sat down beside her on the bed. “It’s … it’s Cody.”
“Yes,” Molly said on a sigh. “I rather thought it was.”
“He’s gone, Margaret.”
Another stab of fear entered her chest. “Gone? You mean, he just up and left?” She realized now that the “kid” Dallas had referred to at breakfast was Cody.
Nicolette closed her eyes, tears pearling on her cheeks. “He … we were so close. I love him, Margaret. Why would he leave me like this?”
Molly shuddered. She knew that kind of love well. It was spelled l-u-s-t. She’d experienced it herself—although fortunately it hadn’t been consummated—at least not then. But this … She’d instinctively known there would be trouble from the moment Cody hired on.
She looked at the girl again, wondering if perhaps the boy hadn’t been forced to leave. Another thought assaulted her. Maybe Charles had killed him. It was an awful thought, but knowing what she did now, and knowing that Charles knew of Nicolette’s trysts with Cody, she was almost certain the boy was dead. Gone. But her gut feelings wouldn’t help Nicolette. She pulled the girl into her arms, having not the slightest idea what they were going to do about this.
“We’ll keep this from Charles as long as we can,” she said. “Unless … unless you want to get rid of it.” She held her breath, knowing it was the practical thing to do, yet foolishly hoping it wouldn’t come to that.
Nicolette shook her head violently. “No. No. I don’t care about Charles. He can’t make me kill Cody’s baby. He can’t.”
Molly wondered how much she knew of her mother and what had happened to her. “Well, then, let’s make sure he doesn’t find out. When were you supposed to go back to school?”
“I thought I’d stay here until the last week in August. Now I don’t know.” She gazed up at Molly. “How big will I be by then?”
Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. She didn’t think Nicolette could be more than two months pregnant, not unless Cody had successfully seduced her almost immediately. “If we’re careful, we might be able to hide it until then.”
Nicolette snuggled close. “I don’t want you to leave, Margaret. Not until I do.”
Molly smoothed the girl’s curls, hiding her own selfish disappointment. If it were up to her, she’d be on the first train to California. But she had other things to do. At least she’d be around for Nicolette—for a while. She shuddered to think about what Charles would do if—or when—he found out his baby sister was going to have a half-breed’s baby.
“What’s going on here?”
Nicolette froze in her arms. Molly glanced up to find Charles standing in the doorway. “Nicolette has a bug of some sort. She’s sick.”
He gazed at them for a long time. “That’s odd. She seemed fine when I picked her up this morning.”
“Well, she’s not fine now, Charles. She’s miserable.”
He sighed impatiently. “All right. Feed her some warm milk or s
omething and put her to bed. I don’t have time for this. I’m expected in Cedarville this afternoon.”
When he’d gone, Molly let out a long, pent-up breath of air. “Why don’t you crawl into bed, honey?”
“Can I sleep in yours?”
“Of course. Here,” she said, “let’s get you undressed.” She helped Nicolette get out of her clothes, then tucked her into bed in her drawers and camisole. She bent down and smoothed back the girl’s hair.
“I’ll go down and see if Angelita has something for your stomach.” She debated telling the housekeeper about the baby. She thought she would; she needed the woman’s help to deal with this.
Tears slid from Nicolette’s closed eyes. “I really love you, Margaret.”
Molly’s insides twisted with emotion. “And I really love you, too, honey.” She moved toward the door.
“Margaret?”
She stopped and turned, giving the girl a gentle smile. “Yes, sweetie?”
“Why are all these terrible things happening?”
Molly leaned against the door frame and sighed. “Bad things happen. All we can do is deal with them the best we can.” She left the room, wondering how this was all going to end, and dreading the outcome.
Molly stood at the window and watched Charles ride off on his blood bay. She waited a few minutes, then crossed to the study, opened the door and slipped inside. As she leaned against the closed study door, she listened to the noisy thump of her heart. It seemed to echo in the quiet room. But she had to do this. Somehow, she had to find out if Charles was dealing in stolen cattle, and the only place she could think of looking was in his study.
Pulling in a deep breath, she crossed the blue and gray striped Venetian carpet to the mahogany desk and studied the drawers. Each one had a beautiful, leaf-carved wooden grip. She grimaced. And each drawer also had a keyhole. She tugged on each of the nine drawers. They were all locked up tighter than strung piano wire.
She sat down in the chair and studied her problem. Naturally he wouldn’t keep any incriminating papers out in plain sight, and she had a feeling that even if she somehow got into the drawers, she wouldn’t find what she was looking for.
She bent down and studied the panels on the inner walls of the desk. Nothing. The outside? Maybe. She went around to the outside panel closest to the fireplace. Nothing there, either.
The quiet room was giving her guilty jitters. She’d thought about including Angelita in her search, but she didn’t want to get the woman into trouble in case they were caught. But she didn’t want to get caught snooping, either.
She glanced at the pastoral painting on the wall over the Empire sideboard. Charles’s wall safe was back there; she’d seen him open it in front of her before. That was the likely spot for something he wanted to hide, but there was no way for her to get into it.
Pushing out a frustrated sigh, she walked toward the door, stopped and turned. With an eager sprint, she returned to the desk and checked the other side panels, those closest to the wall—close enough so that they couldn’t be seen clearly from any angle in the room.
Her heart leaped as her fingers pushed the back panel. Although she couldn’t find a keyhole, the panel jiggled. Pushing back her excitement, she pressed her fingers along the edges. Suddenly she heard a click, and the panel popped open.
With her good hand, she reached inside and pulled out everything she touched. Sitting on the floor next to the window, she went over every item, stacking each carefully beside her when she was finished. On the bottom, she found a small envelope. As she opened it, her heart surged with discovery. It might be nothing, but then, it might be just what Buck and Reno were looking for. It was a map, and there was a series of Xs scattered over the surface.
She dug into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, laid it over the map, and traced the outline of the map and the markings.
Anxious to get out of the study, she clumsily stacked everything back into the cubbyhole, shut the panel and crossed to the door. Hearing no movement in the hallway, she quietly left the study and crept down the hall toward the stairs.
“Afternoon, ma’am.”
She stopped, her heart beating a wild tattoo against her ribs. Turning, she looked straight into the sweaty, ugly face of Hiram Poteet. “Mis-Mister Poteet,” she managed to say, hoping she sounded calmer than she felt.
His beady gaze flicked to the closed study door. “The boss in?”
She swallowed hard, hoping guilt wasn’t written on her face. “No. Ah … I think he went into Cedarville this afternoon.”
He nodded, his gaze moving from the door back to her. “Thought mebbe he was in since you come out of his study.”
She nervously touched the pocket that held the map. “He’s not in, Mr. Poteet. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have something to take care of.”
She hurried to her room, her guilt escalating. The foreman had frightened her. He’d obviously seen her come out of the study, and no doubt would tell Charles. Pulling in a deep breath, she realized she had to relax. She hadn’t taken anything. Even if Charles were to discover she’d been in there, he wouldn’t find anything missing.
She pulled out the map and studied it, hoping it would help Buck and Sage. Later, after it was dark, she’d try to find one of them and show them what she’d discovered.
Charles hadn’t returned by dinnertime, and Angelita surrendered to Molly’s request that she and Nicolette eat in the kitchen. Nicolette toyed with her food, but managed to eat a fresh hot biscuit and some flan. When they’d finished, Molly urged the girl to practice for a while. She joined Nicolette in the salon and listened to the beautiful strains of a Chopin nocturne. Each time she heard a noise, she jumped, hoping Charles wouldn’t come home until she’d delivered her message to Buck or Sage.
Finally, Nicolette begged to stop, claiming fatigue. When the girl had gone up to her room, Molly pulled on a light woolen shawl and stepped outside. Night sounds swooped upon her. Crickets chirruped under the porch beneath her feet. Somewhere in the distance, a horse whinnied, and if she listened very closely, she could hear cattle lowing in a nearby pasture.
Lifting her skirt, she stepped off the porch and made her way carefully over the uneven ground. Suddenly she stopped, realizing that it would be foolhardy to go to the bunkhouse and ask to see either Buck or Sage. Spying a flicker of light from the barn, she made her way there and quietly stepped inside. Again, the familiar smells gently assaulted her, reminding her of the day she’d confronted Buck after he’d broken the stallion.
Giving her head a stern shake, she stepped farther into the barn and walked toward the light. It wasn’t relief that she felt when she saw Buck moving around in the back room. She would have preferred to find Sage, but she didn’t have the luxury of time to go looking for him.
“Slumming again, brat?”
She jumped, rolling her eyes at her skittish behavior. “I suppose you smelled me this time, too.”
He chuckled quietly. “Something like that.”
She watched him work, the kerosene lamp throwing grim light on his task. His hands were capable, strong. Briefly, she remembered how they’d worked their magic that one night they’d had together under the stars. A lump formed in her throat, and she flung away the memory, hating the havoc it played with her emotions.
“What do you want?”
Clearing her throat, she dug out the map she’d drawn earlier and stepped closer to him. “I thought you might be able to use this.”
He turned and glanced at her, then at the paper she offered. He put down the saddle and took the map, bringing it closer to the lamp. His forehead furrowed as he looked at it. “Where did you find this?”
She studied the top of his head, loving the way he pulled his hair to the back of his neck and tied it there. “I found it in a hidden panel on the side of Charles’s desk.”
He looked at her and frowned. “What in the hell were you doing in there?”
> “Well, you’re entirely welcome,” she answered sarcastically.
“You could have been … He could have—”
“Charles had left for Cedarville. No one saw me, and I put everything back the way I found it.” She held his gaze, deciding not to mention that she’d run into Mr. Poteet in the hallway. “Do you think it’s important?”
Buck leaned into the light again and peered at the map, his index finger moving rhythmically over his lips. “Could be. By the outline, it looks like all of the land Campion owns, plus some that he doesn’t.” He traced the marks with his finger. “These Xs could be … could be where he’s hidden the stolen cattle.”
A bolt of excitement shot through Molly. “You really think so?”
He gave her a jaundiced look. “Do you realize what he’d have done to you if he’d caught you?”
She nodded, feeling her excitement dwindle into fear. “But I knew he’d be gone for hours, Buck.”
“Just the same,” he replied, rising from his workbench. “You aren’t the precious commodity you once were. I think you’d better remember that.”
She knew her status had tumbled in Charles’s eyes. She hadn’t thought of the consequences of her intrusion into his private study until now. Her stomach quivered.
“But you did good, brat,” he said softly. “Sage and I will get on this as soon as we can.”
She suddenly remembered the conversation she’d had with Nicolette in the general store. “Is this a personal vendetta, Buck?”
He glanced away and rubbed his neck. “Sort of.”
“That old man, the one you lived with. Do you know who killed him?”
“I have a pretty good idea,” he answered.
“You think it was Charles?” When Buck nodded, she added, “Why would Charles have bothered to have an old man killed?”
“Because … because that old man knew what Campion was up to. Somehow, he knew.” He paused for a moment then added, “Haven’t you noticed how Campion seems to deal with his problems? He gets rid of them and if the ‘problem’ happens to be human, he kills it.” Something in his stance changed. He looked vulnerable.
Forbidden Moon--The Moon Trilogy--Book Three Page 21
