Passage (Soul of the Witch Book 1)

by C. Marie Bowen

  “That's fine by me.” Nichole glanced at her cousin's chiseled profile, then quickly away.

  “What's this?” Jason grinned at her. “You aren't having regrets already, are you?”

  “Don't tease, Jason. This betrothal is a mistake. What if I refuse to go through with it?”

  “The agreement has already been drawn up, Nicki. Philip and Kevin expect us at noon. It is too late to change your mind.”

  The trail wound down a small incline, and the carriage swayed alarmingly. Jason slowed even more until the rutted road leveled out. They continued in silence. The early summer sky was dark blue and interrupted by only a few puffy clouds. Soon, the road began to climb and turn westerly. In the distance, a lone white peak rose to the south.

  “Will Merril be there?” Nichole's voice broke the silence as she picked at the folds of her gown. Jason's chuckle brought her head up.

  “Is that what this is about? Your beloved Merril? I think marrying his brother would be the perfect revenge for his past indiscretions.”

  “How dare you throw that in my face? You know nothing about it. Everything that happened between Merril and me happened before you came here.” Heat crawled up her neck. She pulled a fan from her reticule and flipped it open to cool her face.

  “I know you caught him with Renata. She told me about it,” Jason replied casually, his eyes on the road.

  “You speak to her? I don't know what could have possessed Philip to bring that woman home with him, and then allow her to live at his ranch.”

  “I know exactly what possessed him,” Jason smirked with a chuckle.

  “I’m not sure what upsets me more, Jason,” Nichole shot back. “That you would discuss my broken heart with that morally corrupt woman, or that you believe revenge against Merril would serve as fertile ground to build a marriage with his brother.”

  Jason rolled his eyes and turned to Nichole. “Morally corrupt?”

  “Well she is, and you know it. She's a harlot, a... a paid companion to men.” Nichole hissed at her cousin, unable to find a description any lower.

  “You mean she's a whore.” Jason's grin stretched even wider.

  “Jason Harris, I will remind you to watch your tongue. What would your wife think?” Nichole scolded and hid her smile at her outrageous cousin behind her fan.

  “Ah, yes, Amy. I've meant to speak with you about her, as well. She's coming to the ranch for the barbeque, and I want you to be nice. I am going to ask her to stay at The Highlands rather than return to Denver—”

  “She's going to stay?” Nichole interrupted, appalled.

  “Yes. You'll move to The Shilo to be with your husband, and I want Amy at The Highlands with me.”

  “So, she is going to take my place. I always knew she would.”

  “First of all, no one could ever take your place. You're my cousin, and I love you. Secondly, you have very little idea what goes on in a marriage bed. I miss my wife.”

  “Jason, I just don't know what to say. You shock me. I believe that was your intention.”

  Ahead on the trail, a cloud of dust caught Nichole's attention. “Someone's coming.”

  Jason reached for the rifle at his feet with one hand, while he pulled back on the reins with the other.

  As the carriage slowed to a stop, Nichole recognized the rider. She placed a restraining hand on Jason's arm. “It's Merril.”

  “He must have found out about the betrothal,” Jason warned.

  “No.” Nichole shook her head, never taking her eyes from Merril's face. “This is something else. Put the rifle down, Jason.”

  The rider was almost upon them. Nichole nudged Jason, who put the rifle on the floorboard. She caught his silent look of aggravation, and then Merril had her full attention.

  Merril reined his mount to an abrupt halt beside the carriage and greeted the travelers with a grim expression on his tanned face. “Good afternoon, Nichole. Jason. I hate to be the bearer of ill tidings—especially on such an auspicious occasion.” Merril's anger accented his sarcasm. “I do hope you will forgive me.”

  His distress involved more than just her and Kevin.

  I've never seen him like this.

  Nichole sat forward on the seat. “Merril, what's happened?” Her gaze met his and her heart pounded in her ears.

  The long muscle in Merril's jawline worked for a moment before he answered. “My father is dead,” Merril growled between clenched teeth. “He collapsed as Kevin told us his plan to marry our lovely neighbor.” Merril's cold stare moved from Nichole to Jason. “His death comes at a rather convenient time for you, doesn't it?”

  The stunned silence held for only a moment as Merril's comments sank in.

  “Philip is dead?” Nichole exclaimed in horror. “Dear Lord ... Merril, I'm so sorry.” Her fan dropped unheeded to her lap as she gasped into her gloved hand.

  Jason's head drew back, as though Merril's comment hit the mark. “What the hell does that mean?” Jason stood and looked across at the tall man seated on the coal-black mount. “I am more than tired of your slights to my character. If there's something you want to say to me, then say it, or be damned, for all I care.”

  “Jason, what are you doing?” Nichole gripped her cousin's jacket. “Stop it this instant.”

  Jason shrugged Nichole's hand off his arm and stepped down from the carriage as Merril dismounted.

  The men circled each other alongside the road.

  “Both of you stop this, right now. What's the matter with you?” Nichole slid across the bench, her gaze torn between Merril and her cousin. She couldn't bear to watch, and she couldn't turn away.

  Jason raised his fists.

  Merril's lips ticked up in a half-grin. “You want to fight me, city boy?” His voice dripped with sarcastic disbelief. “You're sure about this?”

  Merril's mount edged away from the men, then bolted away as a rattlesnake shot from the grass. Disturbed by the commotion, the big diamondback slithered across the road and disappeared beneath the carriage.

  Nichole exhaled a small sigh of relief she hadn't followed Jason from the buggy. Her gaze rose to meet his just as her head jolted back. The carriage horse bolted in terror away from the snake, across the uneven prairie. Tossed in the air, Nichole screamed as her gloved hand slipped from the front rail. The entire vehicle bounced high and with a loud crack, her world tipped sideways, then went black.

  Chapter 7

  Merril Shilo

  A loud crash resounded through the Shilo ranch house as Merril kicked open the front door and stepped inside. In his arms, he cradled Nichole’s bloody and unconscious body tight to his chest. Regret and remorse bitter in his mouth. “Kevin?” he yelled as he stalked across the entry. “Henny? I need some help!”

  Kevin staggered to the library door dressed in his best charcoal suit. He held an empty glass in one hand and a liquor decanter in the other. “What?” he bellowed at his brother then fell silent staring at Nichole's long, bloody curls.

  Merril stalked past him. “Get Doc Johnson back here,” Merril commanded and took the stairs two at a time.

  “What happened?” Kevin’s footsteps follow him up the stairs. “Damn it, answer me!”

  Merril cursed his brother under his breath as he shouldered open the door to his room and laid Nicki on his bed. A horrifying gash gaped along her hairline. Blood ran through her hair and darkened the bedding beneath her head. The bitter scent left a taste of copper in the back of his throat. He bunched the coverlet together and held it to the cut on her forehead to staunch the flow.

  “For God's sake Kev, get Doc. I think she's dying.”

  “What the hell did you do?”

  “Doc's on his way back.” Jason pushed past Kevin in the doorway and rushed to the bedside opposite Merril. “How is she?” He knelt and took Nichole's limp hand in his.

  The men exchanged glances. “I don't know.” Merril looked away from Jason's worried blue eyes, so like Nichole's, and swallowed. “I couldn't find a pu
lse.” With his other hand, he brushed the long blonde hair from her face.

  “Excuse me, Kevin.” Doc Johnson edged around Kevin's broad shoulders and into the room, medical bag in hand.

  Merril looked up at the sound of Doc's voice and saw the worried faces of Henny and her daughter peek through the doorway.

  The doctor set his bag on the nightstand and knelt beside Merril; his gaze never left Nichole's pale and lifeless face. He placed his hand over Merril's grip on the bedding and looked into Merril's eyes. “I've got it, son. You can let go.”

  With a shudder, Merril forced his hand to release the material, stood and stepped back from the bed.

  A tear slid down Jason’s face as he held his cousin's hand, his fingers on her wrist. “There’s no pulse, Doc.” Jason moved his fingers, felt again, and shook his head.

  With one hand pressed to Nichole's head, Doc Johnson rested the fingers of his other hand along her neck. After a few seconds, he repositioned his fingers and closed his eyes.

  The weight of silence in the room and the horror in his heart held Merril paralyzed.

  This is the fault of my jealous rage fueled by loss. It should be me lying there instead of you, sweetheart.

  His vision glued to Doc Johnson's face, knowing the Doc’s next words would destroy his world. The wait stretched, heavy as the silence of the men around the pale still woman.

  After an eternity, Doc opened his eyes and nodded at Jason. “She has a pulse.”

  Jason released Nichole's hand and sat on the floor. He covered his face with his bloodstained hands and murmured, “Thank you, Jesus.”

  Merril rounded the bed and touched Jason on the shoulder. “Here,” he said, and held out his hand.

  Jason looked up, gripped Merril's bloodstained hand with his own, and came to his feet. The handclasp lasted just a moment longer as Merril reassessed Nichole's cousin. He could see Jason doing the same as their eyes met and held.

  Jason pulled away first. He ran a hand through his hair and shoved the curls from his eyes. “I could use a drink,” he murmured. His eyes slid back to his cousin.

  “Let's go downstairs,” Merril suggested, then realized Kevin still stood rooted in the doorway, arms crossed, his face a dull red.

  Kevin's clenched jaw sent a rhythmic tic up the side of his face. “I think you’d best explain to me just what the hell happened,” he snarled at Merril.

  “Take your discussion out of this room, gentlemen,” Doc Johnson's firm tone brooked no argument, then it softened, “Henny, would you fetch me some warm water and soft linens.”

  Henny's dark face bobbed once. “Yes, sir.” She wrapped her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and disappeared from the hallway.

  Merril stretched his hand toward the door, his gaze pinned to his brother's face. “Shall we?” His whole body tense and prepared for whatever Kevin might do.

  Kevin spun on his heel and stalked away.

  Merril glanced back at Jason, then over at Nichole and Doc Johnson. “We'll wait in the library, Doc. Keep us informed.”

  Jason watched his cousin a moment longer, and then followed Merril.

  Merril pulled the door closed behind them. “I'm going to wash up out back and see if Henny needs a hand.” Movement at the far end of the hall made him pause.

  Renata lingered in the shadow. Her measured pace took her back and forth across the narrow hall. She appeared hesitant to approach the men. Even in the dim light, he could see her black hair hung to her hips and shone like satin. A high Spanish comb held the fine hair from her face, and a light shawl draped from her elbows.

  Merril's lip curled with disgust.

  Jason turned at Merril's expression, and his gaze lingered on Renata. “You go on. I'll be down in a moment.”

  Merril waited until Jason looked back at him. He tipped his head toward the woman in the shadow. “Let me give you a piece of friendly advice. Stay away from her.”

  Jason's jaw clenched, and he glared at Merril. “What do you care?”

  “I don't.” Merril nodded toward Renata. “She's trouble, pure and simple. That cat will eat you alive, city boy. If I had to wager, I'd bet she has a claw or two in you already.”

  “I'll thank you to mind your own business.”

  Merril's smile ticked up in amusement at Jason's defensive agitation, and he glanced at Renata. “Do yourself a favor,” Merril met Renata’s lifted brow with a shake of his head. “Watch your back around her.” He went downstairs, ignoring their murmured voices behind him. At the base of the steps, he ignored the clink of glass in the library and headed toward the back of the house.

  I can’t speak to Kevin right now—not with Nichole's blood on my hands.

  He crossed the great room and passed the long dining room table with its heavy wooden chairs. The center room had been built large enough to hold half the wranglers during roundup, and often had. The tall windows northwest windows were bright with afternoon light. The mountains appeared as distant blue hills trailing away to the north. The entire west wall of the room was made from stone encasing the large fireplace, cleaned and empty for summer. Through an arched opening to his right, he went by three small bedrooms his father had built for Henny and her family, then out the back door.

  Henny had been a part of his family for as long as Merril could remember. A house slave on his grandfather's plantation in Georgia, Henny was given her freedom when Philip inherited and sold the estate. Henny and her husband, Tobias, were the only freed slaves who didn't take their papers and go north. Instead, they accepted Philip's offer to work for him and moved with the Shilo family to Texas. After the war, Tobias trusted his small family to Philip's care and returned to the Deep South to look for his sister. He never came back.

  Merril stepped into the open yard between the house and several outbuildings. He stopped near the well, worked the hand pump into the trough, and washed the blood from his hands. He ran his wet hands over his face and through his hair. “Damn.”

  My hat's still on the road near the carriage.

  The cookhouse door opened, and Henny elbowed out, holding a kettle of warmed water. Katy came right behind her, arms filled with linen towels. “Let Mr. Merril take a towel, Katy. He's like to drip all over my clean floor when he goes inside.” Henny sidestepped Merril's attempt to take the kettle. “I got this Mr. Merril, but thank ya.”

  Merril took a towel from the top of Katy's pile and wiped his face, then tossed it over his shoulder. With two strides, he was ahead of the women and opened the door for Henny.

  “You should let me carry that upstairs,” he offered.

  Henny shook her head. “It helps to keep busy. You need to see to your brother. He's takin' Mister Philip's death hard, and now this.”

  Merril followed the women through the great room, hesitating at the foot of the stairs.

  Henny and Katy made their way up to the second floor. There were tears on Katy's face, and she kept her gaze cast down at the linens.

  Merril turned from the staircase and stood silently at the library door.

  On the far side of the room, Kevin downed another glass of whiskey. He rested his hands along the mantelpiece, shook his head and mumbled to himself.

  Merril watched for a moment longer then walked in. “I could use one of those.” To his left, his father's large desk faced the room. Tall windows behind it showed the front porch and the ranch beyond. Two leather guest chairs stood angled toward the workspace. On his right, a small couch and table sat on a carpet before a wall of books. His father had brought the books with him from Georgia, then to here from Texas. The family library was undoubtedly the most valuable room in the house and smelled of liquor and leather.

  Kevin faced Merril. The mantel on the stone fireplace behind him held a decanter of scotch and another one half-full of whiskey. There were several clean glasses stacked neatly on a plate beside the decanters.

  “Help yourself.” Kevin filled his glass and moved to the desk, surveying the yard as he drank.<
br />
  Merril poured himself a shot of whiskey, then leaned against the fireplace.

  “Merril,” Kevin snapped without turning around. “You gonna tell me what happened?”.

  Merril drank half his shot, allowing several moments to pass before he replied. “We met on the road just past the second gully, the one that washed out last spring.”

  “I know the place.”

  “They were in that two-wheeled contraption of hers. I told them about Pa.” Merril hesitated and took a sip of his whiskey. “Jason got down on the road. Nicki—she was sitting in the carriage alone when a rattler spooked the horse. It panicked and took the buggy across the prairie. When the axle split, Nicki was thrown. She hit her head on a rock.”

  Kevin turned and set his empty glass down hard on the desk. He leaned forward and glared at his brother. “Do you expect me to believe you had nothing to do with this?”

  “It was an accident.” Jason stood in the doorway drying his hands with a towel.

  Renata, positioned behind him, peered inside over his shoulder.

  Jason entered and took a seat in one of the guest chairs, tossing the hand towel onto the desk. “I didn't set the brake, and I didn't secure the reins before I stepped down. If anyone's to blame, it's me.”

  Merril poured Jason two fingers of whiskey. “Nicki would never blame you.”

  Renata smiled at him while she seated herself on the small couch, as though she were a member of the family.

  “Like you said, it was an accident.” Merril handed Jason the drink. He ignored the wave of Renata's hand and took a seat in the other chair.

  “So, we just wait? Is that what we do? Wait?” Kevin grabbed his empty drink and returned to the mantel. Glass clinked against the decanter as Kevin refilled his drink. “You want one?” he snapped at Renata.

  “Yes, please,” Renata said in her low sultry voice.

  Merril caught Jason's questioning glance and shook his head in exasperation. Kevin was an ugly drunk and more than halfway there already.

  “What happens if she doesn't wake up?” Renata asked when everyone had been silent for several moments.