Wild At Heart (12 page)

“Seems to me he did a good job.” Mariah pulled a pillow from beside her onto her lap, trying to imagine Adam as an artist. Why would he quit drawing because his father died?

She gazed out the window and saw Quinn ride past on a fine-looking bay horse. “I don’t know a lot about ranching, but your herds are large and your house is one of the finest I’ve seen in the area.”

“Yes, the ranch is doing well, now, but it’s been a struggle, especially the first years after Pa’s death. And you can tell, I’m not much of a lady, much to Ma’s chagrin. It’s just not practical. I’d wear pants if she would let me, but she draws the line at my split skirts.”

Mariah grinned. “I never thought I’d admit this, but your skirt is much nicer for riding than a dress. Although it sure felt odd having all that fabric between my legs. Made walking difficult at first.” She hoped her grandmother never found out what she’d done.

“Split skirts are better for fighting the winds we have, and I don’t have to worry about all the cowboys seeing my unmentionables.”

“That’s certainly true.” They shared a giggle, and Mariah felt as if she’d gained a new friend. “I want to thank you for your hospitality and your prayers. I’ve gone to church most of my life, but praying was always something the minister did.”

Anna leaned forward and picked up Mariah’s hand. “Prayer is for everyone. God is my best friend, and I can’t imagine not talking to Him every day.”

Mariah had never thought of God as a friend. He always seemed like a distant deity waiting to squash her if she did wrong.

“God helps me through each day, especially with difficult situations. I don’t understand everything that happens, like Pa dying, but I trust that God is in control.”

Mariah stood and walked to the window. She wished she knew God as Anna did, but because she didn’t, the conversation made her uncomfortable. Or maybe it was guilt over the secret she held.

Determined, she whirled to face Anna. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Anna smiled and leaned forward, curiosity shining in her eyes. “What is it?”

“You know the writer that Adam invited to stay here at the Rocking M?”

Anna nodded. “Yes, he mentioned it. I thought he was crazy to invite a complete stranger to visit, even though I have to admit I do enjoy the man’s stories when I can sneak them out of Adam’s room.” Anna blushed as if she’d revealed a huge secret of her own.

Mariah swallowed the lump in her throat, finding her confession harder to make than she’d expected. “Well… I’m the man he invited. I mean, Drew Dixon is my pen name.”

Anna looked confused; then her eyes brightened. “
You’re
the writer?” She slapped her leg and hee-hawed as if that were the funniest thing she’d ever heard.

Mariah fought a niggling of irritation and scratched her arm. Did Anna think it funny that she wrote dime novels? Hadn’t she just confessed to enjoying them?

Anna bent over laughing, holding her stomach. “Oh, that is a hoot. Adam doesn’t know, does he?”

Mariah wrung her hands together. “No. I didn’t know how to tell him. I plan to, though. Soon.”

“No!” Anna sat up, suddenly sober. “Don’t tell him. It really doesn’t matter anyway. You’re my guest now, not Adam’s.”

Mariah read through the final pages of her latest dime novel,
The Preacher’s Outlaw Sister.
Toward the end of the story, her heroine had a bad encounter with a stinging nettle plant. Smiling, Mariah knew for certain that the scene would be realistic.

She shook her head, still unable to believe that people around here actually ate the pesky plants and used them for tea. She hadn’t been able to force herself to taste the greens Leyna had made after being in irritating discomfort for over a day from her encounter with the beastly plant, even though everyone else wolfed it down at dinner. The turkey was a different issue. She figured she deserved to eat it after the distress it had caused her.

She penned a letter to her editor, telling him several other ideas she had recently thought up for future novels. Seeing the West and being here truly did stir her creativity; she’d caught Adam’s passion for the area. She wondered if he knew how poetic his words were at times and how he stirred her to want to be a better writer. Mariah folded the note, laid it on the cover of her manuscript, then wrapped the whole thing in the brown paper and twine that Anna had given her.

After pinning on her hat, she studied her reflection in the small mirror hanging on the wall. In spite of wearing a hat most of the time she was outside, her skin had definitely darkened. Her friends in Chicago would most likely consider her tan ghastly, but she rather liked it. She turned her head and checked her hair then grabbed the manuscript and hurried out to catch Adam.

Anna had mentioned he was driving to town today for some supplies that were due to arrive by train, and Mariah hoped to catch a ride. Anna giggled when she told Mariah that Adam wanted to see if the writer had arrived yet. Mariah still struggled with keeping her secret from Adam, but after his comment about her writing and Anna’s encouragement to not tell him, she’d remained silent on the issue.

Two hours later, Mariah walked into the small mercantile, thankful that Adam hadn’t put up a fuss about her riding along. In fact, she was almost certain that he had enjoyed her company as much as she had his.

He’d regaled her with stories of the Marquis de Mores and the meat processing plant he’d built just across the Little Missouri River from Medora. A tiny town on the west side of the river had the nickname of Little Misery, and the marquis hadn’t liked that, so he started a new town just east of the river. She thought it romantic that the man had named the town for his wife, Medora. What kind of man did something that sweet?

He must have loved her very much. Mariah sighed, wondering if a man would ever care for her that much. Silas was too ambitious and selfish. How could she have ever been enamored with him? Now that she’d met real men like Adam and Quinn, she’d never look at a man the same. Pale-skinned city men just didn’t hold a candle to these wide-shouldered, tanned, good-hearted cowboys.

Her eyes adjusted to the dimmer interior of the mercantile, and shadows began to change to shape. She breathed in leather and spice scents, and her mouth watered as she passed a small pickle barrel sitting on the counter. After paying the clerk to mail her package, she scouted out the quaint store.

As she read the label on a jar of hand cream, her nape started tingling. Mariah glanced up. A scruffy-looking man resembling the train robber tore his gaze from hers and moved into the shadows across the room. Her heart skittered. Had the heinous thief escaped from jail?

On second glance, she decided he wasn’t the man from the train. Perhaps he was just another man looking at a woman in a town with few females—or did he have a nefarious purpose?

Adam had instructed her to stay at the store, and he would return for her after picking up his supplies at the depot. She had a sudden urge to be back in his presence. She set the lotion down and hurried to the door, looking over her shoulder. The man was no longer in sight.

Was she overreacting? Had her inventive writer’s imagination conjured up something that didn’t exist?

Her curiosity wouldn’t let go, and she stepped out onto the covered walkway in front of the mercantile. Darting her gaze to the left, she scanned the sleepy town to see if Adam was coming. Lifting her skirts, she walked down the steps to the ground. Suddenly a hand clasped her wrist. Someone yanked her into the shadows between buildings. A cry escaped her lips before a nasty-smelling hand covered her mouth.

Mariah shoved an elbow in her captor’s chest. He grunted. Mariah was spun around and came face-to-face with the scruffy stranger. He shoved her up against the rough weathered planks of the mercantile. She was certain her heart would burst clear out of her chest. A nasty saltiness from the man’s hand filled her mouth, making her want to retch.

“Don’t guess you know who I am, little missy.” His leering grin turned Mariah’s stomach even more. Stringy blond hair hung out from under his filthy hat. His front tooth was chipped a quarter of the way off. The man’s foul body odor made her want to faint just to get away.

But she’d never been the fainting type.

She struggled against his overpowering hold and kicked him in the shin. He shoved her harder against the wall and pressed his body against hers. A whimper struggled for escape, but she forced it back. Better not to let him know how scared she was.

“You promise not to scream if I let go of your mouth?”

Mariah considered tricking him but reconsidered. She nodded and wiped her mouth with her sleeve when he complied.

“Tell me what you want and let me go.” Her voice sounded far braver than she felt.

He grinned. “My brother’s in jail because of you and that cowboy he shot on the train.”

I’m a dead woman.
The thought of her grandma mourning her instilled her with a strength she hadn’t felt before.

“Stop wiggling.” The man pressed his forearm against her throat, cutting off her breath. Mariah froze.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you. Not yet, anyhow. Just need to deliver a message.” His leering grin sickened her, and he leaned even closer, as if breathing in her scent. “My brother wants you to know that after I bust him out of jail, we’re coming after you and that low-down McFarland.”

The man’s dull gray eyes sparked, and he pressed his foul mouth against her lips, his whole body molding with hers. She shoved against his chest, but he ravaged her mouth further. Suddenly he broke the kiss, leaving Mariah gasping for breath.

“Be expecting a visit soon. I plan to finish what I started here.”

He released her so fast that she fell to the ground. Leaning over, she spat and swiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Anger simmered, pushing her to her feet. Who did he think he was that he could take such liberties?

At the corner of the alley, she watched the vile man cross the street, never looking back. He headed directly for a lone house standing a few hundred feet from the rest of the town. Mariah darted across the street, unsure what to do.

She should wait on Adam, but she had to know if the man was alone or if he had accomplices. He loped up the steps of the stone house and went in the door. Mariah’s feet were moving before she could stop them. Hunkering down, she ran toward the structure, knowing if he looked out the window that he’d see her. There were no bushes or trees to hide behind.

Mariah held down her hat, and her heart pumped as fast as her feet. Her grandmother’s words echoed in her head,
“A lady should never run.”

Mariah thought, in this case, where her life could be at stake, those words didn’t apply. She darted around the corner of the stone building. In spite of the heat from the sun, the rock walls felt cool to the touch. She caught her breath and peered through the corner of the open window. She heard a man’s playful growl and a lady’s high-pitched giggle. Mariah squinted to see inside the dark structure. Her attacker stood next to a woman dressed in something that looked like fancy lace undergarments.

Gasping, Mariah covered her mouth with her hand and took a better look. The man swigged back a drink of liquor, most likely. He laughed and wrapped his arm around the woman, and they disappeared through a doorway. Another female clothed in a silky dress smiled with red painted lips at a man sitting in a chair. He stood and kissed her thoroughly on the mouth.

If Mariah had any doubts, she now knew exactly what this place was.

“Are you sure, Doc?” Adam grimaced as he looped his arm back in the sling.

He nodded. “Yep. Keep it immobilized for a few more days. It’s healing well, but you don’t want any permanent damage.”

Adam heaved a sigh and paid the man. He squinted at the bright sunshine outside and pulled the brim of his hat down. He might not be able to pull his full weight on the ranch yet, but at least he was able to draw if he did a little at a time. It might still be possible to meet his deadline, after all.

If nothing else, this injury had shown Quinn that he was easily able to get along without Adam. That might help things when he told his family he’d be leaving. He thought of traveling the West and drawing pictures. Quinn would call him foolish and say he just didn’t want to work hard, but Adam longed to give folks back East a taste of the West. And he craved seeing more of God’s great earth. How could he explain that to a brother whose roots went deep?

He’d always had itchy feet. That’s why he made the trips to Bismarck for supplies and Quinn stayed home. The Rocking M truly belonged to Quinn. He’d earned it from the day he’d first set foot on the ranch, and especially after their pa died. Adam had known all along that he wouldn’t end up on the ranch. Sure, it was plenty big enough for them all, but it wasn’t where his heart was.

With the rough winters they often had this far north, you never knew what to expect or whether you’d lose most of your livestock. The fewer people the ranch had to provide for, the better.

He nodded to a man and his wife as they passed in a buggy. His mouth suddenly went dry when the buggy pulled past him and he saw Fancy Feathers running toward the town’s only house of ill repute. What was the crazy woman doing now?