Jane Bonander (23 page)

She gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m not so fragile that I can’t take the truth.” For the first time, she felt some hope regarding Charlotte. Oh, she knew Charlotte was dead, but now there was a possibility that out there somewhere was her baby. With Tristan’s help, Dinah would move heaven and earth to find the child.

She glanced at the bouquet of wildflowers one of the girls had picked that sat on the windowsill. She wished she could place them over Charlotte’s grave, but Dinah wasn’t even sure she had one.

David interrupted her thoughts. “You discovered Emily called Tristan Teddy, is that what brought on this concern?”

She nodded as she crossed to the door. “Now I have to find her and apologize. I wasn’t able to concentrate on anything she said after that.”

Twenty minutes later, after searching every room in the house, the attic, the cellar, all of the outbuildings, and even the shady places Emily often liked to paint, Dinah tried valiantly to fight her fears. She couldn’t find Emily anywhere. Something Emily had said to her one day came back to haunt her: Whenever she was truly upset, she would walk to Hatter’s Horn.

Dinah didn’t want to alarm anyone. This was her problem, and her fault. If she hadn’t been so preoccupied with stupid notions of Tristan and Charlotte, she wouldn’t have ignored Emily and the woman wouldn’t have disappeared. Dinah didn’t want to involve anyone else in the search. She would try doing it her way first. If she was lucky, she’d overtake Emily on the road.

Donning her shirt, trousers, and boots, Dinah went to the stable and hitched the horse to the rig, grateful she’d watched Miguel do it the day the children had planted corn. As she rode out of the yard, Little Hawk stepped from the barn.

“Where ya goin’?”

She waved and smiled, hoping she appeared casual. “I’ll be right back.”

She’d gone a half mile and hadn’t found Emily. She’d called her name and had gotten no answer. Discouraged, she didn’t notice the peddler’s wagon approaching her until the peddler shouted a greeting.

Dinah pulled the rig to a stop beside him. “Have you come from Hatter’s Horn?”

“Indeed I have, ma’am. Going in to shop? I’ll bet I have what you need right here.” His smile was wide; he sported a gold tooth. She remembered him from the day he’d been visiting with Lucas near the road.

“Oh, thank you. But I’m actually looking for someone. Did you meet anyone on your way from the village? A woman?”

The man frowned and scratched his grizzled jaw. “Didn’t meet anyone. Sorry I can’t help you, but I’d like to show you some of my wares.” He reached around and pulled out a box in which there were a variety thimbles, baby whistles, pudding sticks, and playing cards.

Dinah tried to be polite, but was anxious to move on. “I’m so sorry. Why not stop at the house sometime? I really must get go—”

He came off his wagon seat like a shot and grabbed the reins. “You aren’t going anywhere just yet.”

From behind a bushy juniper, Emily had watched Dinah stop and talk to the peddler man. Dinah was looking for her, Emily knew that, but she couldn’t let herself be found. Somehow, she’d upset Dinah. It was the picture. The picture of Tristan had made Dinah act funny. Dinah hadn’t liked it. Emily had worked on it so hard, and Dinah didn’t like it.

When the man took the reins, Dinah seemed afraid. Puzzled, Emily was preparing to see what was wrong when another man rode up. Dinah knew him. Emily knew who he was, too, but she couldn’t remember his name. He had come to the house and had been nice to her.

They were visiting in the road. The man who had ridden up on a horse took Dinah’s arm. At first, Dinah jerked it away, then the man said something to her and she dropped her arms to her sides and went with him, leaving the rig in the road.

Emily huddled beside the juniper, wondering why Dinah left the rig in the road. Then she understood. The peddler man left his wagon and drove the rig up a path and into the trees.

She was sleepy. The trip to Hatter’s Horn had been been easier when she was a little girl. She yawned and curled into a ball on the grass.

Dinah had no choice but to go with Charles. He claimed to have Emily. They rode through the brush and bramble, deeper into the woods. On the fringes of Dinah’s consciousness, she heard the wail of a mourning dove. The air was pine scented and pungent. The sun spattered through the flickering leaves, creating curious, shadowy patterns on the grass.

“Taking Emily was dirty and uncalled for, Charles. She’s no threat to anyone.”

“All’s fair, Dinah.”

“Why are you doing this?” She didn’t understand. Even when she’d seen him appear beside her and the peddler, she hadn’t been willing to believe it.

“Money, of course.” His grip was firm at her waist.

She shook her head. “All those years you struggled for money to care for your mother. What happened to your values?”

He chuckled a laugh behind her. “I discovered values have no place in my life, especially if they keep me from getting what I truly deserve from society.”

“In other words, the world owes Charles Avery a living.”

“Something like that. After Mother died, I discovered I was in debt clear to my chin. Your uncle offered me a way to get back on my feet.”

“At my expense,” Dinah answered, almost to herself. “What would your mother think of this?”

His laugh was caustic. “Don’t try to bombard me with guilt, Dinah. Mother’s dead. Dead, don’t you understand? She’s not looking down at me from some lofty heavenly cloud, watching my every movement, disappointed at how I turned out.”

Dinah sighed. “Charles, Charles. When did you become such a cynic?”

“When I discovered that my entire life I’d been a first- class fool, following the rules like a good son.”

“You were a nice person then.”

He didn’t respond.

Dinah heard the creek close by. She also recognized her surroundings. “The cabin,” she murmured, her heart sinking.

Charles’s chuckle was almost evil. “Ah, yes. You had quite a swim yesterday, didn’t you?”

She felt a jolt of fear, remembering Tristan’s silence as they’d ridden home. He’d seen something. Closing her eyes, she prayed he would remember when she and Emily didn’t return home. Her heart pounded and her stomach rebelled. She observed, “I wouldn’t have thought you the voyeur type, Charles.”

“I’m not.” He sounded indignant. “I didn’t sneak down and watch you screw your husband in the water, Dinah.”

She flushed, embarrassed at his tone and his words. “If you’ve hurt Emily in any way, Charles Avery, I’ll see that you burn in hell.”

He snickered. “I don’t believe in heaven and hell, remember?”

She saw the cabin in the distance. Although Charles had not said it, she knew Uncle Martin was there, waiting for her. Of that she had no doubt.

Lunchtime came and went, and when neither Emily nor Dinah arrived, David began to understand Alice’s concern. He had a few worries of his own. Tristan wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning, so he had bade David farewell, making him promise to return after he’d delivered his paper in San Francisco.

David tried to console Alice. “Maybe Emily and Dinah went somewhere together.”

Alice uttered a shaky sigh. “They would tell me where they were going if they did. And they’d never miss lunch. Well, that tiny Dinah might, but Emily wouldn’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I told her last night that I was making rice pudding for lunch. It’s her favorite. In any case, she wouldn’t just not show up.”

A nervous knot twisted in David’s stomach, but he said nothing.

“Uff dah.
They’re in danger. I can feel it in my bones. Besides that, Dinah is a responsible girl. She wouldn’t keep Emily out so long. Emily needs her rest. And I haven’t seen either one of them since early this morning.”

“I saw Dinah just after Tristan left. She told me she was going up to talk to Emily then.” He’d also sensed that although Dinah wouldn’t take foolish chances, she was angry enough with her uncle and upset enough about Charlotte to do something she normally wouldn’t.

Alice’s face was a mass of worry lines. “Well, maybe they are together then. But where? And why haven’t they returned?”

Just then, Little Hawk barged through the door, breathing hard. “Me’n Henry found the rig!”

“What? What’re you talking about?”

He caught his breath. “This morning I saw Miss Dinah leave in the rig. She—”

“Was Emily with her?”

He shook his head. “She was alone, ma’am.”

“Did she say where she was going?”

“Nope, but she said she’d be right back. Then, me’n Henry decided to follow her, but we lost her. We took a short cut back and found the rig. The horse was standin’ there, eatin’ grass.”

Alice caught the edge of the table and gripped it hard. “What’s happening around here? Lord, this is a fine time for Tristan to be off chasing calves in the high country.”

The door opened and Emily entered. Her skirt was torn and streaked with grass stains.

Alice stumbled to her and took her in her arms, praising the Lord Almighty for keeping her safe. Drawing away, she touched Emily’s face.

“Uff dah
, my girl, you had us scared to death.” She clucked her tongue as her gaze wandered over Emily’s disheveled appearance. “What have you been doing?”

Emily lowered her head and studied her shoes. “I fell asleep.”

Alice craned her neck, searching the space behind her. “Is Dinah with you?”

Emily appeared surprised. “No. Dinah went with the man.”

David rose slowly from his chair. “What man, Emily?”

“You know,” she said to Alice. “The one who was here before. He was a nice man.”

Alice gasped into the handkerchief she’d been using to clean Emily’s face. “You mean that Charles Avery?”

Emily nodded. “The man who was here before.”

With her arm around Emily, Alice led her to the table and made her sit. “Well, if she went with him, I guess I shouldn’t worry too much, but why did she leave the rig?”

David didn’t dare voice his concern. He was afraid he knew why Dinah went off with Avery, and he was certain it wasn’t by choice.

Dinah stepped into the cabin, noting the dank smell. It was sparsely furnished with a table, two chairs, and a crate on which stood a pail, the dipper handle hanging from the lip. There was no stove, and the ashes in the fireplace looked cold. Off to the right was a door leading to another room. Uncle Martin stood at the window. How strange it was to see him again. She felt no tugging emotion. No familial ties.

“Well, well. If it isn’t my favorite uncle,” she managed, her voice laced with sarcasm.

He turned, giving her a grim smile. “Even when your life is threatened, you make jokes.”

“It’s either that or tell you what I really think of you, you slimy pile of maggot-infested cow dung.” Though her hands were tied behind her, she clenched her fists, itching to get her fingers around his neck.

“Please,” he said, holding up one hand. “Don’t hold back. Tell me what you really think of me, then ask me if I care.”

Dinah studied him from across the room. He’d fattened up some, like a lazy, grunting hog. Blood vessels had broken in his bulbous nose, making her wonder how much of her father’s fine brandy he had swilled.

They continued to study one another.

“I can see how much you hate me, Dinah.”

She gave him a dry laugh. “Hate requires too much energy, Martin. I prefer to save my strength.”

He smiled, a sinister movement of his mouth. “For what?”

She ignored his question. “Where’s Emily?”

He tossed Charles a questioning look. “Emily?”

Charles stepped forward. “She was out looking for Emily Fletcher. I told her we had the woman. It was the perfect ploy to get her to come without kicking up a fuss.”

Dinah sagged with relief. Thank God. Emily would be safe anywhere but here.

“Untie her,” Martin ordered. “Then chain her to the bed in the other room.”

Charles pulled her into the other room. It was small and dark, and Dinah fought her recurring fears. Her heart began to pound and breathing became an effort, but she forced herself to stay calm. She wasn’t entirely successful, because Charles noticed the change.

He pushed her onto the bed and untied her wrists. “What’s the matter with you?”

Dinah didn’t want to give them any ammunition to use against her. “N-nothing. I’m cold, that’s all.” The only light came from the other room, and that would be gone once they closed the door. She glared at Charles as he chained her wrist to the iron bedstead. “How can you work for that… that lickfinger, Charles?”

Charles raised his eyebrows as he tested the tension of the chain around the bedstead. “Your vocabulary has taken quite a turn for the worse.”

She forced a laugh. “Having to live with the dregs of society will do that to a person. And I don’t mean the patients, Charles, I mean the so-called sane help.”

He finished his chore, then stood and simply looked at her.

“Well? Was there something else?” He was a silhouette in the doorway; she couldn’t see his face.

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you, Dinah.”

She curled her feet under her, tucked her free hand between her knees to keep it from shaking, and returned his gaze. “Don’t take pity on me yet.”

Martin ambled into the room, appearing pleased. “You know, Dinah, insanity runs in your mother’s family. It’s only a matter of time before you succumb to it, just as your sister did.”

Her anger was overcoming her fear of the room. “If anyone’s insane in the family, it’s you, Martin. Charlotte would have been fine if you hadn’t tossed her into Trenway as if she were some worthless criminal. You are responsible for her death. I don’t blame anyone else.”

“I didn’t want her to die, Dinah. I just wanted her out of the way. How was I to know she was such a weakling?”

She could barely stand the sight of him. “You knew.”

Charles hovered nearby like a servant.

Martin glowered at him. “Get outside and keep watch.” Like a servant, Charles obeyed.

“You talk so tough,” Martin mused, then laughed, a snorty, wet sound that rose up from his lungs. “I used to admire that in you. It gave you spunk.” He shook his head and sighed. “What a precocious child you were, Dinah-mite.”

Her father’s endearment on her rapacious uncle’s tongue made her want to vomit. “Don’t call me that. You have no right to call me that.”

He leaned close enough for her to smell the liquor on his breath, and though it was dark, she imagined she could see the pores in his splotchy nose oozing brandy. She resisted the urge to spit in his face.

“Yes, you are a spirited little filly. I find it a disgusting quality in a woman.” He made an impatient gesture, then crossed to the door.

“I have some papers for you to sign, Dinah. That’s all I want from you. If you sign your money over to me, I’ll let you go. Now, isn’t that fair?”

Dinah swallowed a laugh of disbelief. Even though Martin was her blood uncle, she had no doubt that her life was in danger whether she signed the papers or not.

“You can’t break Papa’s will, Martin.”

“Perhaps not. But I’ve retained a lawyer who says that with your signature, we have a good chance of tying the trust up in legal mumbo jumbo for years. By then, even if they deny my request, I’ll have made good use of the money, and there won’t be a cent left for those pompous asses at the university.”

“What if they freeze the funds, Martin?” She could have bitten her tongue for badgering him.

Martin stood at the door, appearing agitated. The thought had obviously occurred to him as well.

“You could be hanged for murdering that nurse, you know.”

She had wondered when he’d bring that up. “I didn’t kill her.”

“So you say. What other scenario is there? That she crawled into that black box and locked herself in? Amazing feat, considering it locked only from the outside.”

Dinah refused to be baited. Pleading with him to listen to her story was a foolish waste of energy.

“So this is all about the money. It’s been about the money from the start, hasn’t it? Papa would feel so bad if he knew what you’d done.”

“My brother was a tightfisted fool.”

She closed her eyes, blocking out the image of this despicable man. “Papa was good to you, Martin. He was generous. He gave—”

“He gave me handouts. He had all the luck; I had none. Believe me,” he snarled, “it wasn’t easy playing the kindly uncle all those years.”

A grizzly thought made Dinah swallow a lump of fear. “It wouldn’t surprise me if you were responsible for Mama and Papa’s deaths, too.”

He laughed, truly amused. “That’s the wonderful part of this whole thing. I didn’t have to kill them. I wanted to, I even worked out a plan, but”—he lifted his shoulders—”in the end, I didn’t have to. Isn’t that priceless?”

She remembered a time when his laugh made her giggle. Now, it made her want to gag. “Papa didn’t leave you out of his will, Martin.”

He cursed. “No, the skinflint left me with just enough money to pay my debts. No more.”

“Then maybe you should have gone out and gotten a job.”

He lunged and grabbed her ankle, squeezing so hard Dinah nearly cried out.

“You are pushing me too far, Dinah Odell.”

Her ankle throbbed. “Why Papa left you as our guardian I’ll never understand.”

He released her and returned to the doorway. “Who else was there, Dinah?” His voice held a hint of irony. “I’ll leave you to ponder your fate, dear niece. Although I don’t see what there is to think about. Your money or your life. It’s as simple as that.”

Giving the chain around her wrist an angry yank, Dinah watched him go. It was probably simpler than that. Her money
and
her life. No choice at all.

He closed the door, enveloping her in darkness. She heard her ragged breathing and her heart, clubbing her ribs. Curling into a tight ball on the bed, she squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her free hand over her mouth.

In the back of her mind she knew she couldn’t let her fear get the best of her. It would make Martin the winner, and she refused to lose to him again.

Instead, she thought of Tristan. Tristan, who had married her to keep her safe, yet didn’t know she was in peril now. Even if they hadn’t argued before he left, he would have gone. She would not blame him. Could not.

She had to shoulder all the blame. She’d been distracted by the words under Emily’s picture. Her distraction made Emily feel rejected. Because she was responsible for that, she had to undo it. That’s where she’d gone wrong. She shouldn’t have tried to find Emily on her own. She’d promised both Tristan and David she wouldn’t leave the ranch, and she had. She was to blame for the predicament she was in. No one else.

Now, she had to do something. She couldn’t simply roll over and let Martin have his way. She had too much to live for.

She said a quick prayer for Emily’s safety. At least she wasn’t here, sharing her fate.

By now, someone would have missed her. But with Tristan gone, would anyone do anything about it?

It was barely dawn when Tristan and the boys rode into the yard. His last conversation with Dinah had gnawed at him all night, and he itched to get home.

David met him at the door.

Tristan smiled and grabbed his hand. “I’m glad you’re still here. Sorry I had to rush off like that. I want to sit down and have a good visit. Can you swing by here on your way home?”

“Tristan,” David began, his face serious, “did Lucas find you?”

“Lucas? No, why?”

David frowned and rubbed his neck. “He went to look for you. There’s been… Something has happened.”

“What? What is it?” He felt as though his heart was being squeezed.

David expelled a heavy breath. “There’s no easy way to say this.”

“What, damn it?”

“Dinah’s gone.”

Tristan’s stomach plummeted. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

“Little Hawk saw her leave here yesterday morning in the rig. From what we’ve pieced together, she was probably going to look for Emily, but Emily came back alone.”

Tristan swore, but his stomach continued to twist. “I leave for one day, and all hell breaks loose. She knew better than to leave the ranch. She
knew. “

David explained what he thought had happened, starting with his conversation with Dinah earlier in the morning. “And, since Emily says she saw Dinah leave with a man she knew, we figured it had to be Avery. There was a peddler there, as well.”

The peddler. How had he allowed himself to forget the peddler? Tristan rubbed his hands over his face, his stubble rough against his palms. He should have taken the time to talk with Dinah about her fears yesterday before he left. Reassure her that he understood them and understood why she was feeling the way she was.

His instinct told him she was distraught and anxious because of her uncle, therefore her judgment was questionable. He didn’t believe for a moment that she thought he’d molested her sister, but he’d been insensitive to her. He should have known better.

He’d married her to keep her safe. Now, he loved her. She was part of his heart. His soul. And he couldn’t keep her safe from anyone. Anything. What an arrogant bastard he was to think that he could. He should have sent Lucas into the high country. This was his fault. He should have stayed.

“So Odell has her by now.”

David was quiet beside him as they entered the kitchen. “That would be my guess.”

Tristan swore again. “They could be anywhere. On their way to New York, for that matter.”

“I rode to Hatter’s Horn yesterday and wired the train station in Sacramento, hoping they could give us some information.”

Tristan poured himself a cup of coffee, noting that his hands shook. “And?”

David refilled his cup. “Nothing.”

“Emily saw her go off through the woods with Avery. Not down the road. Is that right?”

“That’s the way she remembered it.”

Tristan studied the steam that rose from his cup. “Wouldn’t that indicate to you that they weren’t going to the village? I mean, they can’t take her straight into Hatter’s Horn. Someone might recognize her.”

“Couldn’t they bypass the village?”

“Possibly. But I have another idea.” He rose from the table.

“Where are you going?”

“First I have to talk to Little Hawk and have him take me to where he found the rig. I have a feeling I know where they are. Then,” he added, tossing David a wry grin, “we’re going to do a little play acting.”

He left the house, surprised when he met Little Hawk at the bottom of the porch steps.

Little Hawk was carrying a tattered travel bag that Tristan recognized as Dinah’s.

“What are you doing with that?”

Little Hawk appeared agitated. “Miss Dinah didn’t want it anymore. She told me to throw it away, but I kept it instead. I was looking through it, Tristan. It’s got lots of pockets and secret compartments. Inside one of them, I found this.” He handed Tristan a letter.

Curious, Tristan slid the paper from the envelope, opened it, and read:

On this day, the thirteenth of February, eighteen seventy-five, I, Daisy Jenkins, exonerate Dinah Odell from any wrongdoing regarding the circumstances of my death. I planned it, I executed it. It is my life, I am entitled to do with it as I wish. I am dying. I don’t expect to live until morning. Miss Odell reluctantly did my bidding.

Daisy Jenkins

Tristan hadn’t realized he was crying until a tear plopped onto the paper, slightly smearing the ink. Grinning at Little Hawk, he wiped the moisture from his eyes, grabbed the boy, and hugged him hard. “You’re a hero, my man.”

Little Hawk was plainly puzzled at Tristan’s show of emotion. “Huh?”

“If you hadn’t found this letter, Dinah might have had to go to jail.” Although he’d never expressed his fears, Tristan had been afraid that Dinah’s story wouldn’t stand up in court by itself.

Little Hawk’s dark eyes were as big as dinner plates. “Now,” Tristan continued, “take me to the place where you found the rig.”

Dinah was stiff and sore and her head ached. She’d been awake most of the night, or at least what she thought was night. She’d kept her gaze on the thin band of light that shone under the door, trying to gauge time.