Chapter 7
Try as she might, Mina Morlock couldn't get the melody out of her head. It was the song that Jesse Bartleby had sung the night before, when he'd found her under the willow tree, mourning her fate. She still had his rich bass in her ear. Every once in a while she even found herself humming the tune.
Mina hadn't left her bedroom yet today. Lunchtime had come and gone, but she hadn't eaten. Not just was she not hungry, she also didn't care to sit across from Neville. She and the rancher usually ate lunch alone in their luxurious dining room while the ranch hands and everybody else ate out in the mess hall, where Neville Morlock didn't have to look at them.
After waking late, Mina had never dressed today. She still wore her silken robe over her silken nightgown. She had no reason to get ready for anything. Her activities consisted mostly of entertaining Neville and she didn't feel like doing that today. He hadn't sent yet for her, either.
Probably had a bad conscience.
He had beaten her twice in one day yesterday. Lying across her bed, Mina felt her left cheek. It was still hurting where he'd hit her. Maybe she just imagined that her cheek was still smarting. What was definitely still hurting were her pride and her self-esteem.
To get slapped around like a saloon girl.
Pondering her misery, Mina wiped a tear away. She lived in a golden cage, all right, but she wasn't happy. Yes, she was married to the richest man in Kansas. Countless women envied her for her position, but they had no idea what they were missing: horrors. She would have gladly traded places with any of them. Even the barefoot girls of Jesse Bartleby's skinny cowboys out in his camp had to be happier than she was.
How she envied them.
To be free. To be close to Jesse Bartleby. To listen to him sing at night. The melody he'd sung drifted through her head again and she began to daydream.
Oops…!
Once again she'd caught herself thinking about Jesse. Imagining how it would be, to be one of the girls in his camp. To adore him from afar. Mina knew that she shouldn't allow her thinking down that road. No good came from it. She was never going to be one of Jesse's happy gang. She'd always be chained to this fat, spoiled child that she called her husband.
Another tear stole out of her eye. Mina wiped it away and sat up. She inhaled briskly. Got to pull yourself together, girl, she told herself.
She got up and walked around in her bedroom, misty-eyed, wondering what Jesse Bartleby was really like, up close and personal. He was a charming fellow with a melodious voice. But would she still think of him as a nice guy once she got to know him better? Many people, even Neville Morlock, could be charming for a night. But once you met them on a daily basis, once you lived with them, they many times changed. Sometimes so much that you wondered if those were still the same people that you had met originally.
A first impression could fool you.
Neville, who'd been ugly but had also been witty and charming at first, had definitely pulled one over on her. He turned out to be a completely different man from what she had first thought. Mina had no problem to live with a man who wasn't all that attractive physically as long as he gave her that special feeling. As long as he was kind and courteous to her.
At first, Neville had been full of compliments and sweets for the soul, which more than made up for his physical shortcomings. But once she was his, he'd deteriorated rapidly. Had she known him then as she knew him now, she would never have married him. But that train had departed, as they say. That ship had sailed. She was no longer a single woman, free to daydream about a handsome cowboy like Jesse Bartleby and his beautiful songs and his strong arms and his magical eyes.
She found that she was humming his tune again.
She shouldn't be doing that. She should just forget Jesse Bartleby once and forever. After all, she couldn't say that she really knew him. They'd only met once, last night.
But somehow Mina felt that Jesse was cut from an entirely different piece of wood than her husband Neville.
Her cheek started to hurt again. She felt her bondage acutely. Just when her misery was about to overtake her and a black cloud of melancholy swept through her soul, she heard a knock on the door.
"Who's there?" she said.
"Mrs. Mina, it's me," a woman's voice whispered. "I've got a private letter here for you."
A letter?
Mamie had a private letter for her?
Mina immediately walked over to the door and cracked it open. It was highly unusual that she should be receiving a letter, especially one that nobody was supposed to know about.
"Who is it from?" Mina asked breathlessly.
Mamie, her housekeeper and confidant, tugged at her bonnet. "I'm not sure."
"Who gave it to you?" Mina whispered.
"I think it's from Mr. Bartleby." Mamie looked at her mistress questioningly.
Mina's hand flew to her chest. Jesse Bartleby was sending her a message?
How dare he?
She felt a stitch of indignation at his insolence. At the same time she was excited. The singing cowboy had sent her a letter.
"Does anybody know about this?" she asked.
Mamie just looked at her with doubt in her eyes and slowly shook her head. No.
"Thank God," Mina said. "Give it to me, please, before anybody sees us."
Mamie handed the letter over. "I sure hope the missus knows what she's doing."
"Not a word to anybody," Mina whispered.
Mamie raised her hands in a helpless gesture. "I sure hope the missus knows what she's doing," she mumbled again as she waddled away.
Mina closed the door and leaned her back against it. Her heart was in her throat. Excitement washed through her as she glanced at the letter's red seal. This was a very elegant letter, she felt. Jesse shouldn't have sent it.
She held the letter up to her nose and inhaled with closed eyes. It smelled like the wind over the prairie in spring. She imagined that Jesse Bartleby smelled like that.
For a moment she felt guilty like a red-handed murderer for her thoughts. But why, she asked herself. She hadn't done anything wrong. However, deep down in her heart she knew that she was headed for trouble. No good could come from dreaming about one man while being married to another. And if Neville found out that she had a letter of one Jesse Bartleby in her possession, there'd be hell to pay.
Which was one reason to read this letter as fast as possible and then to get rid of it.
She quickly broke the seal that held the page together and unfolded it. She admired his even handwriting and began to read.
Her mouth fell open when she realized what the letter said. This was not a romantic note from one lonely soul to another. This was a declaration of war! Jesse and his men were about to come and destroy the ranch! He'd be raiding the place, robbing it for all it was worth, and he'd be killing the Black Thirteen and who else?
She might be a widow by tonight.
She read the letter again. These were not the ravings of a madman, she found. These were the thoughts of a man who had reasoned everything out. He intended to follow through with his design.
Her hand with the letter sank down as Mina stared at the wall and thought everything through. Jesse commanded her to hide by the willow tree, where they had met last night. She'd be safe there.
Mina frowned. How generous of him.
But was hiding out the right thing to do? Her husband Neville was a pig and a clown, greedy, selfish and hard to live with. Always shouting everybody down. Manipulative. Evil. Scheming. Constantly pulling the wool over everybody's eyes.
And the Black Thirteen were hired guns. Killers.
They all had it coming.
But was it right to just go ahead and kill them?
She couldn't allow that.
That just wasn't right.
Neville was a pig in human form, all right. But that didn't mean that he deserved to die. She was his wife. Even if she would have rather seen him gone, she had to warn him somehow. That was the
right thing to do, and she was committed to doing the right thing, even if that meant that her hardship at the hands of Neville Morlock would continue.
Mina frowned. How bitter life could be at times.
She began to pace her bedroom floor again. By now not just her cheek — her whole head was hurting!
What to do?
If she did nothing and Jesse came and killed the Black Thirteen and possibly a couple of brave cowhands that were taking it upon themselves to defend the ranch, he'd once and forever be a wanted criminal. And so would be his men.
But deep in her heart she knew that Jesse was no criminal. He was a good man. A kind man. Nobody who stirred the hearts of men with songs the way he did could be an evil person. He had the well-being of his people on his mind, which Neville was threatening. How foolish! Desperate, Jesse was acting rashly.
But he was about to make a terrible mistake.
The blood of innocents might flow if she did nothing. She had to do something.
What if she told her husband?
He would round up the Black Thirteen and then they'd go and ambush Jesse. He'd be gone before sundown as the killers knew the tricks of their trade.
No way did she want this precious man dead. She'd rather die herself.
The longer she thought about the mess, the more she became convinced that Jesse really meant business. He was known to be a man of his word.
God, help me, Mina thought.
A wave of dread flushed through her. Letter in hand, she knelt down by the bed and closed her eyes.
What am I going to do?
Suddenly an idea flashed through her heart. Would it work? Excited, she thought it through. It might work. Well, it was the only chance she had, she decided.
Mina got up, shrugged out of her robe and immediately set out to get dressed. She had a plan now. There was no time to lose.
Would her daring rescue plan work?
She would find out soon enough.