CHAPTER THREE
Jake grabbed the woman before she hit the floor. “What do you make of this wacko?”
“Maybe she’s read too much local history.” Bart picked up the rifle the woman dropped. “Lucky this Winchester didn’t go off when she dropped it. Man, would you look at this stock?”
Jake glanced at the rifle then lifted Penny into his arms. “Fancy engraving on the grip. Someone with money special-ordered that one.” He didn’t have time to look at guns. Instead, he headed toward the staircase.
Bart led the way but stopped to examine the revolver in her holster. “And that’s a fancy Colt in her holster.”
“Which she slung over the banister and probably nicked the wood.”
Carrying both the rifle and the holstered Colt, Bart trailed after him. “No, Jake, really look at these. This rifle has to be way over a hundred years old, but it’s in perfect condition. Same with the Colt.”
Rascal bounded up the stairs behind them.
“So, someone took good care of it. Handed it down in the family. So what?”
Still trailing him, Bart asked, “What are you gonna do with her?”
“She thinks she’s Penelope? I’ll put her in Penelope’s room.”
“Oh, man, think what you’re doing. What if she’s a nut job intent on getting this ranch?”
“You’ve got her guns. Can’t think of anything she could use in that room to do more than brush her hair.”
“You’re sworn to keep that room exactly as Penelope left it. I don’t think you’re allowed to let anyone actually sleep in it.”
As if he could forget all the crazy strings tied to his inheritance. “You have a better idea?” Jake struggled to open the door without dropping Penny.
“Guess not.” Bart pushed by to turn down the bed. “You’ll have to get those wet clothes off her, though. She looks half frozen.”
Damn, Bart was right, he’d have to undress her. Jake plopped her onto the bed, then started with her fancy hand-tooled boots. This nut had money. “Grab a tee-shirt from my room, would you?”
“If you’re set on her sleeping in here, why not take something from the chest or armoire?”
Jake stopped, thought it over, and then nodded as he started on the other boot. “Might as well. They have to be laundered periodically anyway to prevent dry rot. Apparently cedar and lavender aren’t enough.” He peeled off her socks. No hope for it but to strip her. He worked at the fastening of her buckskin riding skirt.
“What kind of a skirt doesn’t have buttons? Damn these leather ties.” He gave in and cut them.
Bart glanced over his shoulder. “Man, she’s gonna hate you did that.”
“Then she shouldn’t have come here.” When Jake had peeled the skirt away, he stopped and stared. “Bart? Um, maybe you should look at this.” He tossed the skirt aside, barely missing Rascal.
Bart stopped rummaging through the armoire and stood by the bed. “Are you kidding me? Pantaloons?”
“Yeah, with ties instead of elastic. What do you make of that?”
His brother dropped a nightgown on the bed beside Penny. “No woman wears anything like that today. Maybe Amish or Mennonite women, but I don’t know any of them.”
“You wouldn’t.” Jake started on Penny’s dark green blouse. At least the shirt had buttons.
“What the hell do you mean by that?”
“Don’t get mad, little brother. I only meant that you tend to favor the kind of women who wear enticing lingerie.” Jake struggled to slide the wet fabric from Penny’s arms.
“Damn right I do. Fancier and skimpier, the better.” Bart stepped closer and peered down. “What the hell is she wearing?”
Jake untied the ribbons of her undergarment. “I think it’s what they used to call a chemise. Instead of a bra.”
“No, that would be a corset.”
“I bow to your superior knowledge of women’s lingerie.” Jake gave a mock bow. “Guess this is instead of a slip or undershirt.”
“Wow, she is really built.”
Jake sent him a glare. “Reel in your hormones and focus. We were discussing her clothing.”
Bart cupped his hands in front of his chest. “Okay, but did you notice how nicely—“
“Bart?” He shouldn’t be so sharp with his brother. Jake was having trouble focusing himself. Everything about this woman was perfect—except that she was crazy. Pale white skin, dark red hair glistening in the light, trim figure except where it counted. He’d have to be blind or dead not to notice this woman.
“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Bart picked up the chemise. “Weird. Why would she dress like this?”
“Beats me.” Jake pulled the nightgown over the woman’s head and arms. “Bad bruise on her hip. Scrapes on her knees. Long scratches on her elbow, too.”
“Maybe someone beat her. If so, I’d better talk to her.”
“Don’t go sheriff on me. Looks more likely from a fall.”
Bart leaned over. “Yeah, looks like your right. Still, don’t know why she’s turned up here. You think she’s part of the plan to get the ranch?”
“Can’t let our guard down. Still, I don’t see how this woman could figure into it, do you?” Jake tugged the sleepwear down as he removed her pantaloons. He tried not to look, but he was a man. And she was definitely a natural redhead.
Jake tossed the under drawers aside. “Creepy undressing an unconscious woman. Makes me feel like a pervert.”
“What are you going to do about her wet hair?” Bart asked. “You could wrap her head in a towel so she doesn’t catch cold.”
Jake pulled the covers up to her chin. “Furnace will keep her warm enough. Let’s leave her here and get some sleep. I have a feeling we’re gonna need it tomorrow.”