The Emperor's New Clothes (30 page)

Jack knelt and gently picked up the doll and the book. His hand trembled, his voice was gruff. “Where did you get these?”

“They're mine,” Jenny said, a defensive note in her voice. “Give them to me.”

Jack handed Lorelie the doll, and she stared and
rubbed her finger over the name “Jenny” embroidered on its skirt.

“Mr. Matthews, I really would like them back. Please.” Jenny lifted her chin. “They're very important to me.”

“You see, Jack, Jenny's not my real sister. My father adopted her and—” Ophelia sucked in her breath. Shock coursed through her as if she'd just been punched in the stomach. Her gaze darted from Jenny to Lorelie and back. How could she have been so blind? How could she have failed to see what was right before her eyes?

“I remember when I embroidered this,” Lorelie said gently. She raised her gaze to Jenny. “For my daughter.”

Jenny's eyes widened. She stared at Lorelie, and for a moment the resemblance between mother and daughter was unmistakable. From their blue eyes to their delicate build to their white-blond hair, Jenny was a younger version of Lorelie.

“I thought you said their child died,” Ophelia said to Tye.

“That's not what I said.” The astonishment in his eyes reflected her own. “I never said she died. I said they lost her.”

“Isn't it the same thing?” she said.

“Not exactly, Ophelia.” Jack's voice was steady, but his expression intense, his gaze riveted on Jenny. “We were visiting family in St. Louis—”

“That's where Papa found me,” Jenny said softly. “Outside the theater.”

Jack nodded. “Alma was with us. We were taking separate trains because she was coming back a few days before we were.”

“It was my fault.” A grim note sounded in Alma's voice.

Jack laid a comforting hand on the housekeeper's arm. How many times had they rehashed this through the years? Each, no doubt, shouldering the blame and the guilt and the sorrow. “We never could figure out quite what happened, but we thought Alma had the baby and she thought
we
had her. By the time we all met up in Dead End, realized what had happened and went back to St. Louis, it was too late. We couldn't find a trace of her.”

“We tried.” Lorelie's voice trembled. “We tried everything. Detectives, notices in the paper—”

“Good Lord!” Ophelia clapped her hand over her mouth. “I saw those, years later. Jenny was maybe six or seven. You see, we left St. Louis the day after my father found Jenny. He assumed she was abandoned and needed a home.”

“The notice?” Tye prompted.

Ophelia bit her bottom lip. “It was a newspaper clipping. Old and yellow. And really not much more than the headline.” She drew a deep breath. “It said something about a missing Wyoming cattle heiress. I asked Papa about it, but he said it was nothing and threw it away. I always wondered if maybe your parents lived in Wyoming.”

“My parents?” Jenny's voice cracked.

“It sure does seem that way, darlin'.” Jack's voice shook with emotion. “When we lost our little girl she had her favorite book—”

“
The Emperor's New Clothes
,” Lorelie whispered.

“—and the rag doll.” He choked back tears. “Jenny.”

“Dear Lord.” Alma dabbed at her eyes with her apron. “Who would have ever thought we'd get her back?”

“Ophelia?” Jenny clutched at Ophelia. “I think these are my parents.”

“I know, darling.” Tears welled in Ophelia's eyes, and
Jenny's face blurred. “It does seem that way.”

“Does this mean we have a real home now?” Hope rang in Jenny's voice.

A tear tumbled down Ophelia's cheek, and she dashed it away and smiled. “I suspect you do.”

Jenny leaned closer and whispered in her ear, “What do I do now?”

Ophelia whispered back, “Talk to them. You said it yourself. They're nice people. You'll be very happy with them.”

“What about you?” Jenny's eyes widened. “You'll stay here now too, won't you?”

“Jenny, I—”

“Promise me, Ophelia.” Panic shadowed Jenny's eyes. “Promise me you won't leave.”

“I can't promise, Jenny.” Ophelia grabbed the girl's shoulders. “But listen to me. All I ever wanted was for you to have a nice home. I never dreamed I could get you parents as well. This is a fairy-tale ending for you. It's perfect.”

“But Ophelia, if you leave—”

“I'll be around for a while.” Relief washed over Jenny's face, and Ophelia pulled her into her arms and hugged her tight. No matter what, this girl would always be her sister and the only family she had. Ophelia's gaze caught Tye's. He stared at her as if he knew her very thoughts. How could he? She wasn't at all sure herself what she thought. With a final squeeze she released Jenny. “Now, I'm going upstairs to get some rest. You get to know your family.”

“I will see you later, won't I?” Caution edged Jenny's voice.

“Of course.” Ophelia smiled in her most reassuring manner, and turned toward the door. Behind her, she heard the beginnings of a family reuniting.

“You know,” Big Jack said, “your name isn't Jenny.”

“No indeed,” Lorelie added. “The doll's name was Jenny.”

“Then…what's my name?” Jenny asked.

There was a moment of hesitation; then Jack's voice rang out firmly. “Lora Lee.”

“Lora Lee?” Disbelief colored Jenny's words. “Did you say Lora Lee? I'm not going to…”

Ophelia laughed through the tears that now freely made their way down her face. Lord, if it hurt this much to lose her sister, how much would it hurt to lose Tye? More? Less? She didn't plan to find out.

A few moments ago she had nearly decided to give in. To Tye and her own desires. Not now. Regardless of what she'd just said to Jenny, or Lora Lee, Ophelia was getting out and getting out this minute. Resolve surged through her. This time, there was no chance she'd change her mind.

The whole family, including Tye, would be so wrapped up in this miraculous turn of events, they wouldn't even notice she'd gone until it was too late. The return of their daughter might even distract them from the hell that would surely break loose as soon as the train arrived.

Her things were already packed. Regretfully, she'd have to leave most of the countess's clothes behind. All she had to do now was throw her bag out the window, and shinny down the drainpipe. That was the best way to avoid seeing any of the family downstairs. Besides, she'd done it a hundred times before. A sharp pang shot through her.

But she'd never before done it alone.

Gad, she detested this! Ophelia tried to keep in the shadows and stay out of sight to avoid recognition. The train would pull in any minute, and a crowd was already forming to greet the man who would allegedly bestow Big Jack's title.

Why on earth did she feel so guilty about all this? Big Jack's money, minus a few dollars here and there for unavoidable expenses, was still in the bank. So when it came right down to it, what had she really done anyway short of pretending to be someone she wasn't?

But that was the problem. The visit of a real genuine countess brought a certain degree of respectability and civilization to the town, and Dead End could now proudly call itself Empire City. What would happen to that pride when everyone learned their countess was a fraud? A fake? A two-bit swindler? Wouldn't their respectability be just as bogus? Ophelia wouldn't be here to find out.

The train whistle sounded in the distance, and relief surged through her. Just a few more minutes and she'd be gone. She refused to think about Jenny. Her sister was safe and exactly where she belonged. Where she'd always belonged. And as for Tye, well, that was one more thing she simply wouldn't think about.

Wheels squeaked, metal groaned and gears clanged, and the train pulled in spewing a great plume of steam into the Wyoming sky and bringing chaos in its wake. The crowd gathered on the siding near the station office far down the rails from her position. All eyes were on the disembarking passengers. She lingered for a second and watched Montgomery greet a distinguished-looking gentleman and a tall, elegant woman. Damn that Montgomery anyway. If he hadn't sent for this lord, Ophelia could well have pretended to be a countess for the rest of her life. In Dead End or even in Empire City, no one would ever have known.

With attention focused on that end of the train, it was a simple matter for Ophelia to slip onto the nearest car. She entered and found it far too crowded for her liking. She preferred to be alone right now. She hurried to the next one, and again there were too many people. Finally, in the third car she breathed a sigh of relief. One other passenger sat slumped in the car, a cowboy at the far end, and he appeared asleep.

Ophelia dropped into a backwards-facing seat, closed her eyes and rested her head. She could ignore the sights and sounds of the day, but she couldn't stop the thousand thoughts that beat against her mind.

How could she leave Jenny? How could she leave Tye? But how could she stay? It was better this way. For everyone. Jenny had a new life. And Tye, well, Tye was a man like any other. He might well say he loved her today, but what about tomorrow? No. It was far too frightening to risk.

It's the sheer terror of love that makes it so thrilling. And so very wonderful
.

She had to admit she'd never felt so alive, so complete and so real as when she was in his arms. It was as exciting as a standing ovation or a royal flush. But was it a gamble worth taking? Now, she'd probably never know.

She sighed and opened her eyes. The sleeping cowboy was directly in her line of sight. Odd. She thought he'd been sitting farther back when she came in. She must have been mistaken. Idly, she studied him. His long legs were propped up on the seat in front of him, his hat cocked forward, covering his face. A wisp of golden blond hair—

Not again! She groaned and her heart throbbed with emotions too confusing to sort out. “What are you doing here?”

His voice was muffled but unmistakable beneath the hat. “I stopped the train and got on a few miles out of town.”

“You can't do that.”

“Sure I can.” Tye pushed the Stetson back on his forehead and grinned. “I'm the mayor.”

“I keep forgetting.”

“You keep forgetting I'm not going to let you go either. I came after you as soon as I noticed you were gone, I—how did you get into town anyway? I know you didn't ride.”

“I blackmailed Zach into driving me in that little carriage of Lorelie's.”

“Blackmailed?”

Ophelia shrugged and tried not to smile. “I just mentioned Big Jack and ‘and such' in the same sentence.”

Tye laughed. “That would do it, all right.”

She grinned. “It did work rather nicely. I think Zach's
conscience is bothering him for going off with Jenny in the first place.”

“You know,” Tye drawled, “I've always heard confession is good for the soul.”

“Well, I've never heard that,” she snapped.

He planted his feet on the floor and leaned toward her. “Tell me the truth, Ophelia.”

“I have nothing to tell you.” She crossed her arms and stared out the window. “Besides, you already know everything, don't you?”

“I want to hear it from you.”

“Why? What difference does it make now?” A pleading note sounded in her voice. If he'd just leave her alone, she'd be out of his life for good and safe from him and from herself.

His voice was soft. “Wives always tell the truth to their husbands, remember.”

She stared in sheer disbelief. “I'm not going to marry you.”

“Yes,” he said with a pleasant smile, “you are.”

“I don't love you!”

“Yes.” The smile remained. Her hand itched to slap it off his face. “You do.”

“Why don't you believe me?”

“Because you don't lie well.” Was it a smile or a smirk?

“I don't lie at all. I—never mind.” She glared in annoyance. “You believed me at the creek. Why then and not now?”

“Shock, I think.” He studied her intently. “I didn't expect you not to share my feelings. You see, Ophelia, I”—he drew a steadying breath—“I've never told a woman I loved her before.”

Her breath caught. Her heart stopped. Time seemed to stand still.

I've never told a woman I loved her before
.

“Never?” The word was little more than a whisper.

“Never.” A solemn light shone in his eyes.

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“How do you know you can't?” he said quietly.

They stared at each other for a long silent moment. Hope surged and then sank beneath a fear too long harbored to be denied.

“It doesn't matter, Tye.” She shook her head. “I'm leaving. The train will pull out in a few minutes and—”

“And you won't be on it.” Tye drew to his feet and stepped to her side. With a sure, swift motion he scooped her into his arms and lifted her out of the seat.

“Tyler Matthews, put me down!” She pushed against his chest, struggling to escape.

“Ophelia, ouch, you're making this damned difficult.”

“Good! Then put me down!”

“Nope.” He bounced her in his arms, flipped her around and threw her over his shoulder. “There, that's much better.”

“This is humiliating, Tyler. I will never forgive you for this.” Gad, it was impossible to keep an angry tone in your voice when you were bobbing along upside down.

He strode toward the car door. “I can live with that.”

“I'll shoot you again, Tye, I swear I will!”

He carried her through the door and out onto the siding. She tried to ignore the gathered townspeople's shocked gasps and snorts of amusement. “I'll run that risk.”

“This time it won't be an accident!”

“I'll just have to learn to duck.” He set her on her feet and grinned. “I'll have a lifetime to learn.”

She groaned. “Why is it every time I make a decision that's right about you and me, you come along and
scramble my mind and my senses?”

“Because, my love”—he took her hands in his—“the only thing that's really right in all this is that you and I belong together. Forever.”

“Tye, I—”

“No, Ophelia. I'm not an actor. And I'm not like your father.” His gaze bored into her with an intensity that stole her soul. “I have been with a lot of women in my life. But I have never used the words ‘I love you.' Not even once. Not even in fun. Never until now. Until you.” He clenched his teeth. “Damn it, Ophelia, get it through your thick, obstinate, beautiful little head. I love you!”

Ophelia stared, stunned. How could she believe him? How could she not?

“That's her!” A voice yelled from the crowd. “That's the one!”

Ophelia glanced straight into the eyes of—

“Hell and damnation!” Ophelia scrambled to stand behind Tye in a futile effort to hide.

“Who's that?” Tye said.

She groaned. “Hairy Knuckles.”

“Harry Knuckles?” Tye laughed. “What kind of a name is Harry Knuckles.”

“Appropriate!” She peered over Tye's shoulder. Hairy strode straight for them. She groaned. “You've got to save me.”

“Why?” A grin sounded in his voice.

“Because you love me,” she said in a fierce whisper.

He sighed in an exaggerated manner. “But you don't believe me.”

“I believe you! I believe you!” Desperation colored her words.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes,” she hissed. Hairy was only a few strides away. “Now do something!”

“I don't know.” Tye shook his head. “Maybe you should agree to marry me first.”

She gritted her teeth. “A man who wanted to get married is how I got in this disaster in the first place.”

“I'd know that flaming hair anywhere!” Hairy pulled to a halt in front of them and pointed. “That's her all right.”

“What do you want with the countess?” a man called from the growing assembly.

“Countess? What countess?” Confusion crossed Hairy's fat face. “I want
her
. Ophelia Kendrake.”

“The Countess of Bridgewater,” someone said.

“Countess? Her?” Hairy snorted. “She ain't no countess. She's some actor's daughter. And she's a gambler. And she owes me.”

“Is this true, Ophelia?” Tye said under his breath.

Ophelia groaned and dropped her forehead onto Tye's back. “Which part?”

“The part about owing him?”

“No. Somebody was cheating but it wasn't me,” she whispered.

“She said she'd marry me.” Hairy nodded firmly.

Ophelia's head snapped up. “I most certainly did not.”

“I have to believe her on that one, Mr. Knuckles.” Tye shook his head. “This woman is not at all inclined toward marriage.”

“I don't care.” Hairy set his jaw in a bullheaded manner. “She owes me.”

“I do not.” Ophelia glared from behind the protection of Tye's shoulder.

“What exactly does she owe you?” Tye said quietly.

“Well.” Hairy narrowed his eyes at Tye as if assessing his options. “She took me for a lot of money. A lot of money.”

“Now see here, Mr.—”

“Knuckles,” Ophelia shouted.

“Knuckles.” Montgomery stepped through the crowd, followed closely by the lady and gentleman Ophelia had seen him with earlier. “You told me just two days ago the pot in question was not significant.”

“Yeah, well…” Hairy appeared distinctly uncomfortable.

“And you further told me that while you had offered marriage, she turned you down.” Montgomery raised a brow. “Isn't that accurate?”

“She's really good at that,” Tye said brightly. Ophelia jabbed him in the back.

“Yeah.” Hairy had the look of a man recognizing defeat.

“So.” Montgomery smiled pleasantly. “She doesn't actually owe you much of anything beyond the price of a drink or two. Now isn't that right?”

“I suppose,” Hairy muttered.

“So this can be resolved quite simply. Joe?” Joe Simmons stepped forward. “Joe, would you take this gentleman back to your place and give him a bottle of your best”—Montgomery cast a quick look at Hairy—“your second best”—Montgomery grimaced—“or whatever you have available in terms of whiskey.”

Hairy scowled at Ophelia. “All right, I'll take it. But I ain't happy.” He turned and followed Joe, his voice trailing behind him. “Say, why does everybody keep calling me Knuckles?”

Ophelia breathed easier, and stepped from behind Tye. Thank goodness Hairy was taken care of. She'd never dreamed the nasty man would actually follow her. Hell, if he'd caught up with her and Jenny alone…She shuddered at the thought.

“Well, that's that.” She smiled, and noted Tye wasn't smiling with her. He raised a brow and nodded at the gathering of townspeople. She turned slowly to meet a
crowd of stunned, accusing faces. The silence broke abruptly.

“She's not a countess? Then what—”

“—she's played us for fools that's—”

“—and what about Big Jack? He's—”

“—swindled! She's a liar and a—”

“—cheat and a fraud!”

“And those are my good qualities,” Ophelia said under her breath. Tye stifled a laugh. “It's not funny, Tye,” she whispered. “These people are mad and they have every right to be.”

He cast her a thoughtful smile. “Do they?”

“Yes,” she snapped.

“I think we should hang her!” an unidentified man cried, backed up by a chorus of “Yeah, yeah, hang her!”

She clutched Tye's arm. “Maybe not every right.”

“Hold on a minute now.” Tye waved his arms to quiet the mob. “We could hang her, I suppose.”

“Thanks a lot,” she muttered.

“But…” Tye shook his head regretfully. “That's not what a respectable town would do. No, sir, a civilized community wouldn't hang her.”

“Are you sure, Tye?” a skeptical voice called.

“Pretty sure.” Tye shrugged. “They might have hanged her in Dead End, but remember, this is Empire City now.”

“But we still think of it as Dead End,” another man pointed out.

“Couldn't we just change the name back? Just for this?” an eager resident chimed in.

“No, no. Afraid not.” Tye held up his hands in surrender.