Passage (Soul of the Witch Book 1)

by C. Marie Bowen

  “Doc was right.”

  “—being engaged to you. I don't know you. I can't marry you. It's not a good time.”

  “I shouldn't have said anything. Damn.”

  Nichole stopped and gasped for breath, panicked by the enormity of all she couldn't remember. Tears filled her eyes, and a sharp pain sliced across her head. “Ah...” she cried out.

  Kevin captured her hand and stroked it. “Hush now, sweetheart. I'm the one that needs to apologize. This isn't your fault.”

  Nichole held her other hand to her head and moaned. After a moment, the pain subsided, and she opened her eyes. Kevin was on one knee beside the bed, her hand imprisoned in his, she tugged until he released it.

  “I'm sorry I said anything,” he repeated.

  Nichole looked away. The emotion left her nauseous with a dull ache behind her eyes.

  “I should see your brother now.” She wiped at her face with her hand.

  Kevin rose and crossed to the chest of drawers. He withdrew a large white handkerchief and handed it to Nichole.

  “I'll send Merril in,” he said and left the room.

  * * *

  Jason Harris

  Renata rose from the couch and motioned to Jason the moment he returned to the library.

  Jason knew she wished to continue their conversation in private and turned from Merril's curious glance toward the front door.

  She followed him onto the porch, then indicated the outbuildings toward the back of the house. They walked past the well pump and the chicken coop, and then paused on the far side of the corral across from the barn.

  Jason leaned on the wooden rail and watched the horses while he waited for Renata to speak.

  “How is she?” Renata stood with her back to the pen and looked toward the sunset.

  “Except for her memory, she seems fine. We'll postpone the engagement, of course.”

  “Encourage her to proceed with the marriage. It would be best for everyone.”

  Jason raised an eyebrow at Renata. “What's your rush? After Philip's funeral and her memory returns, she'll marry Kevin. The ranches will merge. I'm not concerned.” He looked across the paddock toward the barn. After a moment of silence, he continued. “I'll send a letter to Amy this evening and let her know what's happened. If you have another missive for your friend in Denver, you can send it with mine.”

  “Such a kind offer. Perhaps I will write a short note.” Renata turned and met Jason's gaze with her own. “Do you tell your wife everything?”

  “Most things.” He turned back to the horses. “She'll be here for the barbeque. I intend to ask her to stay.”

  “And you would have me forget our dalliance? Have I met your beloved Amy before? I think not. I shall have to introduce myself at your party.”

  Jason chuckled and looked at Renata. “I can't imagine a circumstance where a woman of Amy's standing would be introduced to you. Besides, if she discovers I bedded you, I believe she would understand. Our dalliance is not an affair of the heart, after all—more of a business transaction.”

  Her dark gaze flashed with anger. “Philip found out about us, you know. Henny must have told him. He was angry and threatened to send me away.”

  Jason faced Renata. “I hadn't heard.”

  “No one heard, and now, no one will.”

  Jason stared, appalled at Renata's triumphant smile. “What are you implying?”

  “Let me ask another question. Does your Amy know you invested much of the Harris fortune in other endeavors?”

  “No, but Quincy and Nichole were aware of it. What's your point?”

  “There is no one now who knows you had approval, is that correct? This is very sad for you. Taking money that doesn't belong to you is theft.”

  Jason felt his face flush in anger. “Don't threaten me, Renata. They were aware of my plans.”

  Renata laughed. “How will you prove that? You told me it was easier to change investments if you didn't need Quincy's signature. You hold the new investments in your name alone.” She laughed again and walked away.

  “You can't blackmail me, Renata. What could you want from me?” Jason followed, noting her self-satisfied smile when she glanced back.

  “I want only one thing from you, Jason Harris. Convince your cousin to marry Kevin Shilo. I want it announced at the barbeque. If you don't, I will take matters into my own hands.”

  Jason stopped walking. “Why would you care about that?” he called at her back.

  Renata waved her hand in the air, and chuckled, but never looked back.

  * * *

  Merril Shilo

  Merril circled the empty library. He picked up items then set them down while he waited his turn to visit Nichole.

  He'd watched Renata and Jason slip away as soon as Jason came downstairs. Those two were an odd pair. He didn't know Jason well, but after today, he'd gained respect for the man. Renata, on the other hand, was a manipulative little whore. Whatever was going on between them didn't bode well for Jason.

  The rush of footsteps down the stairs alerted him and he looked up from the book in his hand. Kevin marched into the library, followed by Doc Johnson.

  “You told her about the engagement?” Doc threw his arms in the air as he followed Kevin across the room. “Why? Why in the world would you do that to her? She doesn't know who you are.”

  Kevin reached the mantel and picked up the empty whiskey decanter then slammed it back down. He grabbed the scotch and poured himself a drink. “She said you told her about Pa.” He took a drink, then glared at the doctor. “It was the right thing to do. Once she gets her head around it, everything will be back the way it was.”

  “You may have set her recovery back weeks with a shock like that,” Doc persisted.

  “Enough, old man. You're not my father.” Kevin took another swallow and turned his back on the doctor. He leaned his arm across the mantel and stared down into the empty fireplace.

  Doc Johnson's face shone red above his white beard. He faced Merril. “Go up and talk with her, son. Make sure she's all right. I'm going to have a few words with your brother, whether he wants to hear them or not.”

  Merril slid the book back onto the shelf. “You sure you don't want me to stay while you talk to Kevin? He's had a lot to drink.”

  Kevin turned his head and glared at his brother. “What's that supposed to mean?”

  Doc shook his head. “I need you to check on your young lady. I can handle your brother.”

  “She's not his young lady,” Kevin yelled.

  Merril grinned at Kevin then walked out the door. Behind him, Doc instructed Kevin to put the glass down and have a seat.

  Merril hesitated outside the room until their voices softened. He wasn't about to let Kevin take his anger and grief out on Doc Johnson. He couldn't hear what they said, but they weren't shouting. Satisfied, he climbed the stairs to check on Nichole.

  He paused at the door and peeked in the room.

  Nichole sat forward, her knees to her chest and her face hidden behind one of his large white handkerchiefs.

  She'd broken off their romance almost two years ago, yet the sight of her distress made him want to beat the hell out of his brother. He eased into the room and left the door ajar. If voices rose downstairs, he would be able to hear them.

  Chapter 10

  Nichole Harris

  Nichole buried her face in the big square cloth Kevin had handed her. As their footsteps faded down the stairs, she drew a trembling breath, glad to be alone. It gave her a chance to think.

  The loss of her memories, her life, set her adrift. With no perspective to reason through what she'd learned since waking, she struggled beneath a layer of confusion.

  One last person to meet and then I can rest.

  The pain in her head left her exhausted, and she longed to escape into sleep.

  At the sound of footsteps in the room, she lowered the handkerchief.

  A cowboy stood just inside the door. His head cock
ed as he listened to something down the hall.

  This man must be the younger brother, Merril.

  He was taller than Kevin but had the same muscular build and broad shoulders. His legs were long, and he was lean through his hips and waist. He wore a gun belt slung low around his hips, the holster strapped tight to his leg. With his denim trousers and cowboy boots, he lacked only a western hat to complete his costume. His faded blue shirt gaped open at the neck, exposing a portion of his tanned chest, and dried blood stained his neck scarf and shoulder.

  I bet that’s my blood.

  Her puzzled gaze moved to his face.

  Deep-set green eyes caught and held her own. A warm half-grin creased a dimple down to his jawline. “Hey, Nic. Doc said I should check on you.”

  The sound of his soft voice sent a trail of gooseflesh down her spine as her heart skipped a beat. The sudden rush of emotion was more than she could bear. She pressed her arm tight against the pain between her breasts, and her eyes filled with tears. She couldn't tear her gaze from his, and she couldn't speak, her breath had been knocked from her lungs.

  “Nicki, are you ill?” His grin disappeared, and he took a step toward her. “Should I call Doc?”

  She shook her head as sparks crisscrossed her vision and she struggled to breathe through hiccupped sobs. “How do I... know you?” she managed to ask, her voice hoarse with accusation. “Why does it feel like... my heart is breaking?” She lowered her forehead to her knees and fought to contain her inexplicable grief.

  His weight lowered the bed beside her, and he lifted her onto his lap. “I'm sorry, Nicki,” he whispered into her hair.

  She curled against his chest and gulped air through the tightness in her throat. “Why do I feel these things? What's happening to me?”

  “I don't know, Nic.” He brushed the curls from the side of her face. “You never told me this before. I never knew you felt this way.”

  Her lungs filled in short gasps, then her breath rushed out, along with her tears. She hurt all over from the fall. Her broken mind terrified her. Unwanted shame and embarrassment poured out as she leaned against the solid comfort of his chest.

  His arms held her close, but she wasn't imprisoned. If she moved, he might release her, so she kept perfectly still. “I can't marry your brother,” she sniffed.

  He rubbed her back and rested his chin on the top of her head. “I know.”

  The warmth of his hand felt good. When he kissed the top of her head, she let her eyes fall closed. “I'm scared.”

  “Don't be, Nic. Everything's all right. You're safe.”

  He caressed the back of her head and neck, and she relaxed into his arms. His voice was low and even, as he murmured reassurances. She lost track of what he said, and instead, listened to the soft rumble in his chest.

  * * *

  Merril Shilo

  Merril eased Nichole’s head onto the pillow and moved her hips from his lap to the mattress. He took up the coverlet from a stack of fresh bedding on the dresser and tucked it around her while she slept.

  Downstairs, the front door slammed.

  Doc must be heading home. He would want to reach Kiowa Crossing before dark.

  Merril sat in the bedside chair and watched Nichole sleep.

  Nicki had shocked him with her declaration of heartbreak. When she'd found Renata in his arms two years ago, she acted as though he handed her the perfect excuse to break off their relationship. She’d never let him explain, refused his attempts, and insisted she didn't care.

  He’d made the mistake of believing her indifference—hadn't realized her heart held anything more than relief to be away from him.

  “Is she asleep?” Doc asked softly.

  Surprised to find Doc at the door, Merril nodded and rose from the chair. He crept into the hallway and pulled the door closed behind him.

  “How is she, son?”

  Merril ran his hand through his hair. “She's upset, frightened her memories won't return.”

  “Did Kevin upset her?”

  “He confused her.”

  Doc shook his head and walked toward the stairs. “Once Kevin stopped drinking, he left for The Crossing—said he needed to speak with Cecil Cobb right away.”

  Merril followed Doc downstairs. “Pa's attorney?”

  “Yep.” Doc picked up his bag and retrieved his hat from the coat rack. “He seemed anxious about your pa's will. I told him he had other things to attend to just now, but he wouldn't listen to me.”

  “What about Reverend Michael and the burial service?”

  Doc Johnson shrugged. “He didn't want to hear that, either.”

  “Well, damn. Wait for me, and I'll ride with you and speak to the reverend myself.”

  “I'm in no hurry.” Doc covered his bald head with his bowler. “I'll wait outside.”

  * * *

  Nichole Harris

  Disturbed by the light, Nichole stirred in her sleep and blinked her eyes. An oil lamp on the dresser cast a steady glow across the room.

  What the hell?

  Movement near the window caught her attention, and she rose on her elbow, unsure of where she was and who was in the room.

  A woman stood beside the open window. Her long dress and hair billowed back in the evening breeze falling still as she lowered the sash. The color outside cast an odd reddish glow onto the woman’s face as she drew the draperies closed.

  She straightened her long, elaborate skirt, and faced Nichole. “Did I wake you?” Her voice held the hint of a Spanish accent. A tall comb pulled her hair from her forehead. The hairstyle drew her features into sharp focus and accented high cheekbones and a thin, straight nose. She tossed her hair over one shoulder and smiled. Fine lines creased at the corner of her eyes and mouth.

  Nichole sat up and ran a hand over her face to give herself time to think.

  Where am I?

  Then she remembered.

  There was an accident. This is Merril's room.

  The woman crossed to the doorway and retrieved the lit candle from the top of the chest of drawers. “I did not mean to disturb you. I thought only to light your lamp and close the window. I am Renata.”

  “Renata—yes, Jason mentioned you. You didn't disturb me. The oil lamp surprised me, though. Everything here is very authentic.” Nichole rubbed at the dull pain above her brow and studied her visitor’s clothing.

  A fold of dark satin draped from her narrow waist over an ankle-length black skirt. A ruffle rounded the skirt at the knees and darted material belled from ruffle to the floor. She wore a white V-neck blouse beneath a matching black satin jacket with tight sleeves. A silver cross between her breasts reflected the light from the candle in her hand. Her clothes were as beautiful as they were inexplicable.

  Renata chuckled. “The lamp surprises you? You think we are so backward at The Shilo that we use only candles?” She set the candle holder on the dresser and approached the bed. “The doctor told us you had forgotten everything. That is very hard to believe.”

  “I know, right? I should know these things...” Unable to articulate her confusion, she lowered her eyes. “Doc Johnson said my memory would return. I wish it would hurry.”

  “Hmm,” the woman made a dismissive sound. “Doctor Johnson is an adequate physician I suppose, for horses. He practices his medicine on livestock as well, did you know?”

  “He's a veterinarian?”

  “It is true,” Renata affirmed. “Perhaps a real physician, one who knows this type of injury, would be of more help to you than our Doc Johnson.”

  “If my memory doesn't come back I'll ask Jason about a specialist.”

  “Yes. You should ask. However, I will contact a doctor friend of mine, just in case. How could it hurt?” Renata shrugged and took another step closer to the bedside. “You have always impressed me, you know. A woman so young, with such wealth and responsibility. Owning a ranch in this man's world must be difficult. I suspect it is why you sought marriage. It would be a relief to
hand that responsibility over to your husband, would it not?”

  “What? You're saying... it's my ranch?” Disbelief and panic pinched her voice.

  “Why, of course. It belonged to your father, and now it is yours—the ranch, the land, the cattle—even the house in Denver. All yours.” Renata uttered a short laugh and gestured with her hands as she spoke. “Jason helped your father with accounting, but he has been here only one year. You must insist he explain about your investments. A woman should know what is hers, don't you agree?”

  Nichole rubbed at the constant ache above her brow. “You're right. Jason will help me.” Her stomach rumbled, and her bladder pinged its urgency reminding her she had more immediate concerns than investments. “Is the bathroom down the hall?”

  Renata hesitated as though she wished to say more, and then tipped her head. “You can ask Katy to draw up a bath.” She retraced her steps to the door and retrieved the taper just as footsteps sounded in the hallway. “Here is Katy with your dinner. I'll remind Henny you need a nightdress and some clothes for tomorrow.” She wrinkled her nose at Nichole's bloodstained blouse and swished her skirts out of the doorway and around the girl in the hall.

  The girl stood frozen until Renata passed, then her eyes lifted to Nichole’s. “Good evenin', Miss Nichole. Mama said I should bring you some food. Are you hungry?”

  “You are ... Katy?” Nichole guessed and smiled at the teenager.

  “Yes, ma'am.” A sad smile lit her coffee-colored face. “I'm sorry 'bout your accident.” Katy walked in and set the linen-covered tray on the corner of the dresser. “Would you like me to pull the chair over, so you can eat your dinner here?”

  Nichole estimated Katy to be around fourteen, an awkward age of long legs and knobby knees. Despite her brave smile, she could tell the girl had been crying. “Thank you, Katy. I’m starving. First, though, I need to use the bathroom.”

  Dark eyes turned to her in confusion. “Miss Nichole, we don't have a bath room here like you do at The Highlands. Mama said we would set up a bath after you eat. She wants to look at your head before we wash the blood from your hair.”