Outlaw’s Bride (20 page)

“You have a present for me,” she said with a mischievous grin.

Frank found himself grinning back at her. “Yes, I do.” He could hear his heart pounding. He had waited so many years for this moment. He took the ring off his little finger and slipped it onto her middle finger. “I made this for you.”

He watched her touch the braided ring he had worn all these years, saw her pleasure in the gift.

Her eyes glowed with warmth and happiness. “I’ll always treasure it, Frank.”

Suddenly it wasn’t enough to watch her relive the past. He needed her here, in the present. So he
pushed a little harder. Pressed for more. “What happened, Merielle? Why didn’t you come? Who—”

She was gone. As quickly as that, the girl of his childhood was gone, replaced by the childlike person, bereft of memory, who had taken the place of his beloved.

“Frank?” She looked around, obviously upset and confused by her surroundings. “How did I get here? I want to go back to the house.”

Frank wanted to bellow with rage. He wanted to howl with despair. He had thought nothing could be worse than Merielle without her memory. He had been wrong. It was far worse to be teased like this. To get a taunting glimpse of the past and have it yanked away again. To think she might be getting better and see it was only an illusion.

“All right, Merielle,” he said in a soothing voice. “I’ll take you back to the house.”

“I can’t imagine how I got out here,” she said as she followed him down the ladder. “The last thing I remember is saying good night to Father.”

Frank wondered if she had snuck out of her room as she had in those days long ago, by shinnying down the live oak outside her window. He looked her over in the light from the lantern and saw the scrapes on her arms and the tear in her skirt. He felt a moment of stark terror. What if she had fallen?

He debated whether to tell Trahern what she had done, but decided against it. The only way to keep Merielle from using the window for escape would be to bar it or nail it shut, and he couldn’t
bear to think of her locked in like that. She had climbed that tree for years. There was no reason why she should suddenly start falling.

The problem now was how to get her back into the house without letting Trahern know she had been out. He took Merielle’s hand and led her from the barn. When they reached the front door, he eased it open and gave her a nudge inside. “Go on upstairs, Merielle.”

“Come with me, Frank.”

“Merielle, I—”

“Is that you, Merielle?” Trahern called from the parlor.

“Yes, Father. I’m going back upstairs now.”

Merielle grabbed Frank’s hand and drew him inside. He tried to free himself, then heard Trahern stirring in the parlor. Rather than get caught in the hall, he followed Merielle up the stairs. He felt foolish tiptoeing through the house, but the thought of seeing where Merielle slept kept him moving after her.

She pulled him into her bedroom and closed the door after him. “Come sit down, Frank.”

Frank had never seen so many frills, so much lace. Everything looked so fragile, so delicate. He knew if he touched anything it would break. Including Merielle. Especially Merielle.

What was he doing here? Why had she brought him here?

Frank stared at Merielle. What was she thinking now? What did she expect of him?

“This is Emily,” Merielle said, holding out a rag doll for his inspection. “She’s my best friend.”

“I thought I was your best friend,” Frank countered.

“Oh. Well, you are. Only I can tell Emily anything.”

“You used to tell me everything.”

Frank knew he was being contrary, but he couldn’t help it. This was an unbearable situation. He didn’t belong here. He should leave, but he didn’t have the strength to do it on his own. The best he could do was provoke her until she kicked him out.

Merielle’s brow furrowed. “Don’t you like me anymore, Frank?”

Frank realized the futility of playing games with Merielle. She couldn’t keep up with the rules. He sighed. “Of course I like you.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No, I’m not mad at you.”

“Then why are you frowning like that?”

Frank forced himself to smile. “There. Is that better?”

She smiled back at him. “Yes.” Merielle yawned hugely.

“You’re tired,” Frank said. “You should go to bed.”

“Will you help me get out of this dress? It buttons in back.”

Merielle turned her back to him. Frank knew he ought to make her call for Maria. But he told himself he could do this without letting his desire for her get out of control. He undid the buttons as quickly as he could. When he was done, Merielle
turned, pulled the dress down over her hips, and stepped out of it.

She stood before him in her undergarments with no more modesty than a newborn babe.

“Would you get me a nightgown from the chest at the foot of the bed?” she asked.

Frank moved as though in a trance. He lifted the lid of the mahogany chest and sorted through the intimate apparel he found there until he came up with a simple chambray gown.

When he looked up again, Merielle had removed the slips and the corset and was standing before him in a thin cotton chemise and lacetrimmed pantalets. When she reached for the bow at the top of the chemise he said, “No, don’t.”

She looked up at him. “I don’t wear anything under my gown.”

“You will tonight.” Frank slipped the gown over her head and pulled her arms through the sleeves. “There. Now get into bed.” He reached over and folded down the counterpane, then pulled down the sheet. Merielle obediently climbed into bed. Frank tucked her in, then sat down beside her.

“Sleep well, my love.” He leaned over and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. He started to rise but she grasped his hand.

“Stay with me until I fall asleep,” she said.

Frank bit back a groan of frustration. “All right.”

She turned over on her side and tucked his hand under her chin. He sat with her until the moon rose. The house was quiet. He gently freed his hand and crossed to the open window. The leaves
rustled in the tree. The moss swayed in the wind. He looked at the door, then back at the window. It was safer to climb down than to take the chance of getting caught in the house.

Frank was sitting on a low branch of the tree, seven feet off the ground, when he heard Trahern speaking to someone on the front porch. He figured Calloway was leaving. The longer he listened, the more familiar he found the voice. It wasn’t Calloway. It was Boyd Stuckey.

Frank strained to hear, but he couldn’t make out what was being said. The two men were speaking too softly, and the rustle of the leaves made the sounds indistinct.

Frank drew his legs up out of sight as Boyd mounted his horse and rode away. He waited until he heard Trahern go back into the house before he lowered himself to the ground.

He leaned against the house with his foot braced on the wooden wall, and rolled himself a cigarette. He struck a match on his jeans and cupped his hand around the tip while he lit it. He inhaled and held the smoke down in his lungs before he breathed it out, along with the tension he felt.

Boyd had been coming to the ranch more frequently of late to speak with Trahern. Frank figured they must be doing some business together. He didn’t begrudge Boyd his success, but he didn’t understand it, either. Boyd had taken the small inheritance from his aunt and become almost as rich as Trahern. Frank had asked Boyd once the secret of his success.

Boyd had grinned and said, “Calculated risks.”

Frank hadn’t understood Boyd then. Now he did. It was like what he had done tonight with Merielle. Pushing her to remember. Following her to her room. Staying there to put her to bed. Hoping against hope that a miracle would happen.

He crushed the cigarette under his boot. He was taking his own calculated risks. Only the prize he was hoping to win wasn’t wealth and riches. It was Merielle Trahern.

Ethan held a kitten in one palm and a leather work glove full of sugar water in the other. He had poked a hole in one finger of the glove and was trying to get the kitten to take suck. Tiny claws dug into his skin as the blind kitten latched on.

“It’s working!” Leah cried.

Ethan grinned at her. “Looks like it.”

“What’s going on?” Patch tied on her apron as she crossed to where Ethan was sitting at the kitchen table. Leah hovered over his shoulder.

“Leah noticed the calico cat was missing last night. We looked for her, but we never found her. I figured she’d come home sometime during the night, but she never did. Leah found these babies crying up a storm this morning and asked if there was anything we could do.”

Patch leaned over Ethan’s shoulder. “What are you feeding them?”

“Sugar water,” Ethan said. “There isn’t any more milk.”

“Gilley is supposed to deliver some this morning,” Leah said.

“Sit down, Leah, and you can take over for me,” Ethan said.

Leah quickly settled in the chair next to Ethan. He carefully transferred the kitten into her waiting hand. When he broke the kitten’s connection with the glove, it began mewing pitifully. Ethan stood behind Leah and helped her figure out the most comfortable way to hold both the glove and the kitten.

When the kitten latched on once again, Leah looked up at Ethan and smiled shyly. “Thanks, Ethan.”

“It was your idea to feed the kittens. I just found a way to do it.”

Patch watched as Ethan ruffled Leah’s hair. It was the sort of affectionate gesture that brothers the world over used with little sisters. It was a first for both of them, a beginning. Patch felt a sudden lump in her throat when she realized that the way Ethan had just interacted with Leah was exactly the way he had treated Patch in Montana.
Like a little sister!

Why hadn’t she ever realized that before? Was it possible that the affection she had felt for Ethan back then wasn’t romantic love? Then what was it she felt for Ethan now? It felt the same. No, that wasn’t precisely true. She was able now to admire qualities in Ethan that she hadn’t even known existed when she was a child. She needed him in a different way, not just as a friend, but as the missing part of a puzzle she was only beginning to unravel. She was discovering that her happiness was inextricably linked with his.

Patch shook her head slightly. She wanted to share her realization with him, but she was too afraid he would dismiss what she was feeling as fancy. She decided to cherish the feelings and let them grow. There would be time enough to tell Ethan later.

Patch stroked the fur of the kitten in Leah’s hand. “What do you think happened to Calico?” she asked Ethan.

“Nothing good, or she’d be here with her kittens,” he replied. “I think I’ll take another look around for her before breakfast.”

Ethan had already kicked the back door open and gone outside to search when Patch made a discovery of her own.

“Max is dead!”

She picked up Max’s cage from the counter beside the pump and brought it over to the kitchen table where the light was better. She opened the top and reached in carefully to lift Max out, then sat down across from Leah with the mouse in her palm. She rubbed a finger across his fur. He was stiff and cold, and Patch realized he had been dead for some time.

“I can’t believe Max is dead. He seemed perfectly fine last night.” Patch laid the mouse back in the cage.

Leah returned the kitten she had been feeding to the basket and picked up another one. “He was just a stupid mouse.”

“He kept me company when I was all alone on the journey here. And he made me smile,” Patch said in defense of her pet. “I guess I should have
let him go sooner. I just didn’t want your cat to eat him.”

“Cats are supposed to eat mice!” Leah retorted.

There was a knock on the back door. “Patch? Can you let me in?”

Patch shoved the kitchen door open and stepped aside to give Ethan room to enter. He carried something wrapped in his shirt. He lifted the cloth to reveal a patch of calico fur. “I’m sorry, Leah,” he said. “I found her under the house. It looks like she died sometime last night.”

Leah stared with stricken eyes at the bundle Ethan held in his arms. She hurriedly set down the makeshift feeder and returned the kitten to the basket with the others, then crossed the room to where Ethan stood near the stove. Leah reached out a hand, but couldn’t bring herself to touch the dead cat.

Ethan knelt and laid the bundle on the floor beside the stove.

Leah squatted down beside him, her chin on her knees. “What happened to her?”

“I’m not sure. There’s not a mark on her. If I had to guess, I’d say maybe she ate something that was poisoned.”

“Calico was poisoned?” she asked incredulously. Leah jumped up and pointed an accusing finger at Patch. “You poisoned my cat so she wouldn’t eat your mouse!”

“I never did any such thing!” Patch protested.

Ethan rose and stepped between them.

A knock on the kitchen door interrupted what promised to be an ugly showdown. Ethan kicked
the back door open and stared in disbelief at the old man standing there.

“You gonna invite me in or let me stand here all day?”