Miracle Jones (21 page)

Miracle had no hope it would ever be found, certainly not with her savings still inside it.
She described the box, finishing with “The lid was carved in intricate filigree.
You wouldn’t expect that kind of workmanship on a tin box.
It was unique.”

“If I see it, I’ll let you know.”

They were standing near the wagon, the sighing wind whipping up the leaves in quick, wild flurries, the sound of the falls dull and reassuring from behind a row of buildings to the east.
The moon seemed especially brilliant, and Miracle swept her gaze away from Harrison’s hooded eyes.
Why did she have to remember the feel of his arms around her now?
Why did she have to remember the ecstasy of being crushed in his embrace?

To her shock and surprise, he suddenly bent down and kissed her gently on the lips.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said gruffly, and then he strode away.

Her lips tingled, and she closed her eyes and groaned at her stupidity.
Thank you, Lord, for bringing me Uncle Horace.
But did You have to let me fall in love with Harrison Danner, too?
I don’t mean to complain, but couldn’t I just be allowed to forget him?

Miracle opened her eyes.
Since God didn’t answer, she figured this was her penance.

The back door of the hotel flew open, and a young man with fiery red hair appeared.
“Doctor Danner said I was to help you bring your uncle inside,” he said.

“Doctor Danner?” Miracle asked, surprised for a moment.

“Yes’m.
He’s the horse doctor.
There is a lot of Doctor Danners in Rock Springs.
You a friend of Doctor Harrison?”

“We – know each other,” Miracle admitted.
Then she and the young boy hauled up a protesting Uncle Horace inside Garrett’s Hotel.

¤   ¤   ¤

The night air was thick and cold as Brody Stephenson swept back a hanging maple branch, the leaves dry and frigid against his cheek.
He grimaced, but it was more an expression of fear and discomfort.
He had bad news, and the chief wasn’t going to like it.

The hard feel of a gun barrel against his temple brought him up short.

“You’re like an elephant thrashing through the underbrush,” a familiar voice said in disgust.
“The whole world could be snapping at your heels like a pack of wolves and you’d never hear it!”

“I didn’t mean to be late.
I jes’ ran into some trouble and was hurryin’ back.”

“What kind of trouble?” The question was short and sharp.

“Jeb.
He started flashin’ money aroun’ and getting’ loud.
Everybody in the Half Moon saw it.”

“Jesus, holy mother!” he exploded.
“Jeb was in the Half Moon?
Was Garrett there?”

“Nah.
Not while we was.
But Jeb left the money and the tin box, and when I asked him about Garrett we got in a fight.
Then he reached for his gun, and I – I had to do it – I couldn’t stop him!”

“What did you do, Brody?”

“I shot him, Chief.
I shot him dead.”

The silence that followed was so intense that Brody’s breath quickened.
He wasn’t too smart; he knew that about himself.
But his instincts were strong, and he’d bet half a year’s loot that the man he knew only as the chief was thinking of killing him right now.

Brody closed his eyes and sent up a prayer, the only time he’d pleaded with God since he was five years old.

The moment passed.
Brody squinted open one eye.

“What tin box?” The chief asked in a deceptively calm voice.

Too late Brody saw the trap he’d fallen into.
He swept in a frightened breath.
He and Jeb hadn’t told the chief about the money they’d found in that peddler’s wagon; they’d kept the stash for themselves.
Now he would have to ‘fess up.

“It was the girl’s and the old man’s.”

“What girl?” The chief’s fury lashed out like a whip.

Brody swallowed hard and whined, “The one with the peddler’s wagon that we hauled off to the barn and sold to that Danner fellow.”

“What was in the tin box?”

“A little money.”

“How much?” he thundered.

“Jes’ a little.”

“I see.
So you and Jeb decided to cut me out of this little windfall?”

Brody nodded.

“Jeb left this tin box in the Half Moon?”

“And most of the money at the gamblin’ tables.”

“Ah.” He paused.
“Well, I guess there’s nothing more to do.
The girl’s dead and so’s Danner and so’s that old man you threw in the river.
Garrett won’t recognize the box.”

Brody bowed his head.
He felt the surreal calm that surrounded the doomed embrace him.
“The girl’s alive, Chief.
So’s Danner.
And so’s the old man.
They were all there with the sheriff lookin’ at Jeb’s body.
I was standin’ in the shadows behind the Half Moon, and –”

The blow hit Brody so hard he saw colored lights.
He fell to the ground, stunned.

“For Chrissake, can’t you do anything right?” The toe of the chief’s boot dug viciously into Brody’s side.
Brody curled up into a ball.
“Garrett being alive was bad enough.
But now you’ve got this girl who got a good look at you.
A good look!
If she sees you, she’ll remember.”

“Danner and the old man don’t know us,” Brody mumbled through his pain.

“A helluva lot of good that does with this girl out there!” he bellowed furiously, kicking at Brody’s ribs until he heard the satisfying crunch of bone.
“Did she recognize Jeb?
Did she?”

But Brody had learned his lesson, and he was past believing the truth might save him.
He’d told as much as he was going to.
“Nobody rec’nized him.
They thought – he was a drunk – that got in a fight.” He spat blood onto the ground.

“You’d better be telling me the truth, Brody,” came the snarled reply.
“Or else your life ain’t gonna be worth a plugged nickel.”

Chapter Nine

Miracle stretched luxuriously, burying her face in the lovely feather pillow, reveling in the feel of real cotton sheets and a mattress that felt like it swallowed you up.

Garrett’s Hotel was pure heaven.

She opened her eyes to half-mast and spied the washbowl and pitcher atop the oak stand.
She would get up, wash her face, change her clothes, then see about Uncle Horace.

Uncle Horace!
Miracle’s eyes flew wide open.
Last night seemed like a dream; she could scarcely believe he was really alive.
Now she needed to make certain he was flesh and blood and unhurt.

Leaping from the bed, Miracle grabbed the satchel of clothes she’d brought from the wagon.
She was going to have to do some washing soon.
There was hardly a clean item of clothing left.

Choosing a plain brown wool skirt and a white shirtwaist, Miracle dressed herself quickly, poured water from the pitcher into the bowl, rinsed her face and hands, and glanced at her reflection in the tiny mirror on the wall above.

She didn’t look any different since making love to Harrison, she decided critically.
In fact, she looked remarkably the same.
But as she stared at herself, Harrison’s features superimposed themselves over her own, and her knees went weak.

Hellfire and damnation.
Was she going to overreact every time she thought about him?
Good heavens, she would be a whimpering wreck in no time if she didn’t forget him.

Grabbing her hair brush from her satchel, she dragged it savagely through her long trusses.
She was here in Rock Springs to find her father (and stay out of trouble with the law), and by God, she wasn’t going to think about Harrison’s promise to come and see her, or the fact that he seemed unusually interested in her, or that he kissed her last night and paid for her lodging.
No, it was best to put Harrison, and the events that had brought them together, aside.

With her future firmly focused in her mind, Miracle ran downstairs to the washroom, then hurried up again and knocked on Uncle Horace’s door.
She heard a snort and a groan from within and grinned.
“Serves you right if you’re paying for your misdeeds with a hangover,” she called to him cheerfully through the panels.
When he didn’t answer to repeated knocking, she went back downstairs to find help.

“I need someone to do some barbering,” she told the clerk at the desk.
“And I need a bath made ready for the occupant of room thirteen.” The added cost ticked up in Miracle’s mind, but she pushed the thought aside.
She would pay Harrison back somehow, sometime soon.
For now, first things first: Uncle Horace needed to be made presentable so that they could go about their business and earn some money.

“I’ll send someone right up,” the clerk assured her.
Grinning, he added, “Welcome to Rock Springs, ma’am!”

¤   ¤   ¤

An hour and a half later Miracle was standing in the doorway of Uncle Horace’s room, looking at a transformed man.
Gone was the dirt and grime and ragged beard.
Before her stood her beloved Uncle Horace, who, with Aunt Emily’s help, had taken in an orphaned half-breed whose only possession was a tin box full of money – a possession they’d never touched for their own.

“I suppose you ordered all this?” Uncle Horace declared crankily.
He swept his arm to include the barber, who was packing up his gear, and the still steaming tub of water in the center of the room.

“I did.” Miracle placed her hands on her hips and grinned.

Uncle Horace shook his head and straightened his brown wool jacket.
The jacket was one Aunt Emily had made ten years before, and Uncle Horace only wore it on special occasions.
Occasions such as when he didn’t know where the rest of his clothes were.

“You didn’t use your inheritance money to pay for this, did you?”

Inheritance money
was a kind name for the tin box of cash Miracle’s father had left for her mother.
“No,” she said truthfully.

He relaxed, and she saw affection in his eyes before he glanced away.
Uncle Horace was not one for big displays of emotion, unless he was drunk.
She had no doubt that he would be utterly mortified when he learned of his behavior these past few days.

“Glad to see you again, Miracle, my girl,” he added gruffly.
Unable to help herself, Miracle flung her arms around him and squeezed him tightly.
He squeezed her back, then held her at arm’s length, his blue eyes twinkling.
“I swear, it’s hard to keep a Jones down!”

“The only way to stop us is to kill us,” Miracle replied in a time-honored response.

“And then we might haunt you anyway,” Uncle Horace returned right on cue.

Miracle laughed.
“I’m so glad to see you!
I was so afraid that you were – that they had –” She shuddered, remembering Jeb’s sightless eyes staring toward the heavens.

“We got a lot of catching up on, Miracle, my girl,” he said, understanding.
“Now,” he added briskly, “if you have any extra money, let’s scratch up a meal and talk things over.”

Miracle didn’t know how to tell him she didn’t have
any
money any longer.
After the joy of finding him alive, a part of her had hoped he might somehow have saved the money, too.
Unfortunately, they were flat broke and desperately short of inventory to boot.

“We can eat in the hotel restaurant,” Miracle said, purposely refraining from adding that one Dr.
Harrison Danner would be picking up the bill.
There would be more than enough time for the truth later.

¤   ¤   ¤

“…and then I found myself hanging from a branch by the back of my collar,” Uncle Horace said, sopping up gravy with his biscuit.
“I’d been snagged, and it was the only thing that kept me from drownin’.
No, that doesn’t sound right.” He chewed on the biscuit thoughtfully, then declared with reverence, “It was like the hand of God, reachin’ for me, tellin’ me it wasn’t my time yet!”

Miracle regarded him with a mixture of affection and exasperation.
For the last hour she’d been listening to Uncle Horace’s accounts of what had happened to him – the truth, and several more colorful versions.
He was going to milk this adventure for all it was worth and enthrall his would-be customers as soon as they opened their wagon for business this afternoon.

“I thought you said you washed ashore.”

“I did.” He nodded solemnly, then twinkled at her.
“But
Romeo and Juliet
’s just a tale of two silly folks who killed themselves for no good reason if’n you don’t add in the fun.
I’ve got to make this good, Miracle, my girl.”

Miracle had told him most of her own escapades, leaving out the night she and Harrison had made love.
Uncle Horace had been horrified and shocked and relieved all over again that she’d come through the ordeal safely.
Now, however, since he’d had some time to think over what she’d said, his bristly gray brows pulled into a frown.

“You say you gave this Dr.
Danner some of my special elixir?”

“He was in pain.
I thought it would help, and it did.”

Uncle Horace rubbed his jaw, regarding Miracle speculatively.
“Think he hallucinated?”

“Some,” she said.
“Why?
Shouldn’t I have given it to him?
Will there be after effects?”

“Oh, no, no,” he assured her with a wave of his hand.
“It’s just that that particular brew is…”

Miracle waited patiently.

“Well, it’s got some interesting properties.
Sometimes they can stir a man’s – um – interest in women, if you know what I mean.
I knowed one family who got a passel of young’uns that way ‘cause whenever her husband’s rheumatics flared up, he guzzled my elixir.”

The blood ebbed from Miracle’s face.
Children.
Pregnancy.
Too many events had transpired for her to even think clearly.
She could be pregnant.
Just like her mother!

“Miracle?” he asked in concern.

Miracle tried to pull herself together, but her soul felt torn in two.
What for her had been a shatteringly beautiful experience had been drug-induced for Harrison.
She’d believed, naïvely, that in his delirium he’d still wanted her –
her,
Miracle Jones – even though he called out Kelsey’s name.
But Harrison had known nothing except that he’d been sexually stimulated by Uncle Horace’s potent tonic.
Any woman would have done as well.
Any woman.

“Miracle?” Uncle Horace asked again, this time thoroughly alarmed.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Are you all right?”

“Fine.” The shame of what she’d done made her want to bury her face in her hands.
She was angry at herself, and downright incredulous, that she – sane, good (well, almost good), intelligent Miracle Jones – could be so swept away by emotion.

How did it happen, Lord?
How did it happen?

“Are you ready to go back to the wagon?” she asked a few moments later, her voice strained.
“We need to check and see what we should order.
Then we’ve got to earn some money.”

“How’re we payin’ for this?” He gestured to the silver plate with the check on it.

The young man who’d helped Miracle the night before chose that moment to walk past their table.
Overhearing Uncle Horace’s remark, he said cheerfully, “Oh, don’t worry about the bill.
Doctor Danner said he’d pay for everything.”

“Doctor Danner?” Uncle Horace turned to Miracle and remarked sardonically, “Generous of the man.”

Miracle pinned a smile on her face she hoped wasn’t as sick as it felt.
In lieu of an answer, she pushed back her chair and left the room.
She had a lot to think about, and she couldn’t bear to do it under Uncle Horace’s unnervingly watchful eye.

The wagon was just where they’d left it.
Miracle unlatched the back doors and climbed inside.
A faint aroma met her nose, spicy and pleasant, filled with some indefinable something that made her want to draw the air deep into her lungs.
Harrison’s scent, she realized with a start.
He’d been here yesterday, and his own particular seductive odor still lingered.

She tried to drive thoughts of him from her mind, but when she pushed Harrison’s image aside, she envisioned his mother’s.
How was Eliza doing?
Miracle hoped her illness wasn’t as serious as she and all the Danners suspected.

Uncle Horace appeared and took control of the reins.
He planned to move the wagon to the center of town and hawk his wares.
Miracle, who believed in his remedies, nevertheless felt slightly self-conscious about setting up shop in Rock Springs.
Her father lived here somewhere.
It would be nice to find him in a less conspicuous way.

“It was the hand of God that saved me,” Uncle Horace murmured to himself as Miracle settled in beside him and he clucked his tongue at Tillie and Gray.
Glancing at Miracle, he grinned, his gold tooth sparkling in the late-morning light.
“The hand of God and a touch of my own special blood-warming tonic” – he held up an imaginary bottle – “which I’ll make available to the first five customers for only a half-dollar!”

Miracle inwardly sighed.
Uncle Horace’s fast-talking flim-flam tended to sell his products at most rural towns, but Miracle wasn’t sure Rock Springs was going to be the same.
“There’s a doctor in this town,” she told him.
“Doctor Danner.”

“Thought you said he was a horse doctor.”

“His brother’s a medical doctor.
And from what I’ve seen, he’s a good one.”