CHAPTER FOUR
Penny opened her eyes to the safety of her own room with golden rays of breaking day filtering through lace curtains. A mockingbird sang outside. From the distance, another bird answered. She exhaled with relief. What a horrible nightmare.
Even so, that irritating Jake in her dreams had been a handsome devil. Why hadn’t she ever met a man like him? Fierce aches in her body created a longing to pull the covers up and snuggle down for a few more hours of sleep.
Laziness didn’t run a ranch—or catch rustlers. She pushed the covers aside and slid from bed. With a stretch she decided she must have had one heck of a restless night to be this stiff and sore. After relieving herself in the chamber pot, she hurried around the bed.
“Ouch.” She’d stumbled over her boots. Bending over, she snatched them up. Good heavens, they were wet and muddy. Her favorite green shirt, best buckskin riding skirt, and underclothes were strewn across the floor. She set down the boots and gathered up her damp clothing. She paused.
Had it been a nightmare?
Shaking off the idea, she walked toward the fireplace. Of course, it had to be. Still, she spread the clothing to dry on the fire screen with a sense of unease.
What was wrong with Jake? There was no water in the pitcher on her dresser. No matter, she was in a hurry anyway. Penny grabbed a blue-checked gingham shirt and a dark blue riding skirt from the armoire, pulled on thick socks to cushion her aching blisters, and slid her feet into a pair of dry boots. Blisters? She didn’t remember having blisters yesterday.
She caught sight of herself in the mirror. Good grief on a broomstick, her hair looked a regular rat’s nest. Why hadn’t she braided it as usual last night?
Yeow, she stopped brushing and touched the back of her scalp. Gently, she probed the knot on her head. Could have happened when she rolled down the ravine. That part of her nightmare must be true. Carefully, she brushed and struggled with tangles, and used more time than she usually devoted to her appearance.
Peering into the mirror, she laid the brush and comb on her dresser. Enough time wasted on grooming. Grabbing a blue ribbon, she tied it in a bow on top of her head to hold her unruly curls away from her face.
She’d better find out if that worthless Jim Belton had the nerve to return last night. If she ever saw that thief again, she’d peel his hide and nail it to the barn. Penny opened the bedroom door.
“Jake,” she called. “Is breakfast ready?” She ran down the stairs toward the kitchen.
As she reached out to push the swinging kitchen door, it opened her way. The man from her nightmare stood there. He looked clean, shaved, and every bit as good as she remembered.
“You called?” His deep baritone swirled around and through her.
A friendly enough thing for him to say—except from him it seemed more a snide comment than a question.
“I . . . I . . .” Her knees gave way.
Dang, what was wrong with her? If he hadn’t grabbed her, she would have fallen. He guided her to a chair near the big round table. At least that hadn’t changed. But a woman Penny had never seen stood at the stove stirring something that looked like eggs in a skillet.
Only it wasn’t the right stove. And the woman wore pants, men’s denim pants. Looking around the kitchen, Penny saw a lot of changes. The pump handle was gone and the sink was different. More storage cabinets. New countertops. New curtains. And a big shiny steel thing she couldn’t identify. Then the room spun around her.
The man who’d called himself Jake Knight in her nightmare forced her head down between her knees. How could she concentrate with him so near and smelling so good?
“Take deep breaths. Slowly now.”
She gulped at a breath. “What’s happened? This was in my nightmare.” She looked up. “Only now it’s real.” The room still spun.
“It’s real, all right.” He pushed her head down again. “Deep breaths, remember?”
She gasped, but her lungs couldn’t hold air. “But where’s my Jake.”
“Who’s your Jake?” The woman asked. “What’s wrong with this Jake right here?”
Penny raised her head, gasping for breath and hoping for clarity. “Jake is my cook. He’s in his fifties. Can’t ride any more because of arthritis and an old injury. Cooks and cleans this house for me now.”
The wrong Jake sat on his haunches and looked her in the eye. “I thought we cleared that up last night.” He pointed a thumb toward himself. “This is my house. My brother Bart and I live here.” He nodded toward the woman. “Sally Rogers here is our cook and housekeeper and thinks she’s our substitute mom.”
He tilted his head and smiled at the woman he’d called Sally Rogers. “Come to think of it, she’s been a mom to us for twenty years. Her apartment is off the kitchen.” He stood and took the chair beside Penny.
Penny stammered out, “H—hello, M—M—Miz Rogers.”
The woman smiled, her face red from the heat of cooking. Her short salt and pepper hair curled around her face. “Everyone calls me Sally.” She heaped scrambled eggs into a bowl and set it on the table. She added a platter of bacon and ham slices and a pan of biscuits before she took a seat. “Jake, your turn to give thanks.”
Penny couldn’t help staring at him as he gave a short blessing. Though brief, the prayer was nice. Penny’s dad had always said one before their meals. The memory almost undid her.
How she wished Daddy was here now. Everything would be all right if he were. Squelching her sentimentality and weakness, she forced herself to be brave.
Penny asked. “Where’s the other man, um, Bart?”
“Sheriff business. Wreck over on the Bandera highway. Had to leave early this morning.” Jake took a giant bite of biscuit then gave the remainder to his dog.
Sally slapped his hand. “Now, Jake, don’t feed Rascal from the table. You know it’s not good for him.”
Penny fought to understand the situation. Biscuits not good for the dog? Her stomach rumbled with hunger. She hadn’t eaten since a hasty snack for lunch yesterday. Maybe if she had a full belly, she could make sense of all this.
No, nothing would explain what had happened in her life, but she needed food for the strength to face whatever had gone wrong. A meal would stall for time to think before she confronted this Jake person again.
The wrong Jake.
Helping herself to a serving of everything, she figured food was food. At least scrambled eggs, ham, and biscuits looked the same. The bacon smelled right, but looked different. Experimentally, she took a small bite. Mmm, better than she remembered.
She ate, pondering her plight and searching for answers. If these were praying people, maybe they weren’t cutthroats. A big maybe. She remembered some of the sanctimonious townspeople in Terry Springs.
How many men cheated on their wives then showed up in church with their families come Sunday morning? How many had engaged in spurious business dealings? How many church-going women shredded a so-called friend’s reputation without a care?
Yep, she’d better keep an eye on this Jake and Sally.
Penny poked at her eggs. “Have, um, have you seen my Jake? I’m worried about him.”
Jake peered at her. “What year do you think this is?”
“It’s 1896. Let’s see, today is July the 25th.”
Sally’s eyes about bugged out of her head and her mouth gaped open.
Jake shook his head. “Wrong. It’s October 25th, 2017.”
Penny dropped her fork to the floor with a clatter. “It can’t be. Are you crazy?”
He grabbed the fallen utensil, rose, and tossed it into the sink. Jake produced a clean fork from a drawer. He handed her the flatware and resumed his seat. “That’s what I tried to tell you last night. You’re the crazy one.”
“No one’s that crazy. You’re trying to prey on my mind. It won’t work. I slept in my bed last night. In my room.”
He glanced at her as he reached for another biscuit. “That bedroom has been unchanged for over 120 years.”
Sally nodded. “It’s part of Earl’s will. No one can remove Penelope’s portrait from over the mantel and no one can change anything in Penelope’s room except to modernize heating, air- conditioning, electricity, and maintain the paint and such. Once a year I launder the clothing.”
She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of learning she didn’t know what kind of heating Sally meant, or what air-conditioning was. “But it’s my room. I slept in my nightgown in my bed.” She tugged at her shirtsleeve. “These are my clothes. You must be the one who’s wrong.”
“Ma’am, have you had a bump on the head recently? Been in the hospital?” Jake leaned forward.
Penny touched the knot on the back of her head. “I must’ve bumped my head yesterday when I rolled down the ravine after my horse threw me.” She noted the way Jake and Sally stared at her. “But I’m not crazy!”
“Okay,” he said. “But suppose your knowledge of local history combined with a blow on the head made you delusional. You might have decided you were a person you’d read about.”
Sally clasped her hands together. “Oh, that’s brilliant, Jake. Like in that old movie we saw the other night on TV. What was it called? Oh, yes, ‘American Dreamer’ was the title. I loved that movie.”
“Then how would I know where everything in this house is located? How would I know the floor plan or which room was mine? Answer me that.” She leaned back and crossed her arms. Let them explain that one away.
Sally said, “This house was on the county historical tour last spring. It was all done up spotless and looked lovely. I wore a period costume like yours to act as hostess.”
Costume? Since when was her riding skirt a costume?
Jake speared Penny with a look. “Maybe you were on that tour.”
She frowned, willing herself to think clearly. “I don’t think so. How would I know about my Jake and about Earl Knight? Or about Jim Belton and my cousin Charlie rustling my cattle?”
“It was part of the tour. Printed up in a pamphlet.” He rose and left the room, but quickly returned. He handed her a pamphlet titled “Knight-Terry Ranch” which showed a photo of her house on the front. She read through the brief history while Jake and Sally watched her.
When she’d finished, she laid the pamphlet down on the table.
Shaken by what she’d read, she grasped for a way to ground herself. Anyone could print up that pamphlet, but that didn’t make it gospel, did it? She noted the photo showed the trees she and her father had planted appeared huge.
“I know lots of things not included there. Besides, my clothes fit me. Winona Wiggins in Terry Springs made them especially for me. She’s a widow with three kids to raise, so I always let her sew for me even though I know how.”
Jake shook his head sadly. “Make up whatever you want. You can’t change the fact this is my house and my ranch.”
Sally tilted her head and stared at Penny. “Jake, it’s not my place to interfere, but take a good look at this young woman and then go look at the portrait over the mantel. She’s the spittin’ image of Penelope Terry.”
Penny slapped her palms on the table. “Because I am Penelope Jane Terry, like I’ve been trying to tell you.”
Jake glared at her. He stood and threw his napkin onto the table before he stomped off toward the parlor, Rascal panting at his heels.
Penny and Sally followed. When she reached the parlor, Penny found Jake staring up at her portrait. He stood with legs apart and arms crossed.
“Come here,” he ordered over his shoulder. He pointed to a spot near the mantel. “Stand right here.”
Bristling at his high and mighty manner, she sashayed over to stand where he’d indicated. She snapped, “Since you asked so-o-o sweetly, how can I refuse?”
He paid no attention to her sarcasm. What a pigheaded man, ordering her around in her home.
He stepped back to stand by Sally. He peered at Penny, then at the painting, then back at her. “Wouldn’t have believed it after the way she looked when she dragged in here last night, but she does look a lot like the painting.”
“The same, you mean.” Sally tilted her head again to study the portrait. “Well, as the woman in the painting would have in a few more years.”
“Ten years. I was sixteen when Daddy had that awful man paint my portrait. I’m twenty-six now.” She smoothed her riding skirt. “But everyone says I’ve aged well, especially considering me being out in the weather so much.” Pushing an errant strand of hair behind her ear, she smiled. “I always wear my hat. One of the things Mollie taught me.”
“Hmph. Mollie was one of your teachers in finishing school, I suppose?”
Contempt laced his words. Penny waved aside his suggestion. “Mollie is the town madam. Visited Daddy regularly and stayed here a lot over the years. She taught me all she could about being a woman. Warned me about men wanting to marry me to get this ranch.
“She still checks on me regularly even though Daddy’s gone. See, my Momma died when I was four and Daddy didn’t know how to talk to me about girl stuff.” She watched a grin appear on his face. Was he laughing at her?
“You must have been a hit in finishing school.”
He was making fun of her. She glowered at him and snapped, “You know very well I wasn’t. They were mean to me, really mean. I hated it.”
She held out her hands and pretended to priss about back and forth in front of the fireplace. “All that walking so-so and embroidering and what to say at tea. What a bunch of time-wasting nonsense. Of course, Earl said it was just what I needed to fit his idea of what his wife should be.”
She crossed her arms. “Ha, as if I would want to be one of those worthless women who sits around all day doing nothing.”
Sally stepped forward. “Not all of them do nothing. Many women who don’t work volunteer in ways to help the poor and sick while they take good care of their own families.”
Penny softened her voice, “I know that. Momma did. Daddy said she took care of us, all the families who worked for us, plus any others she knew needed help. But she also helped Daddy with the ranch by doing the bookwork.”
She continued, “Daddy didn’t like staying indoors long enough for record keeping. He let me take over as soon as I was good enough with my sums and such. I reckon I was about ten at the time.”
Jake held up a hand to stop her. “Well this is fascinating, but doesn’t solve our dilemma. What are we going to do with you until you regain your memory?”
“I haven’t lost my memory. You’re the one who’s delusional.” Why were they doing this to her?
“You can’t think both Sally and I share the same delusion? And Bart? That’s three against your one.”
She needed to sit down, think about the situation. Her head pounded so loud she couldn’t concentrate. Rascal barked once as a cowboy ran into the room, saving her from replying.
“Boss, some skunk tore down a mile of fence by the Medina highway. Cattle are all over the road.”
“I’ll be right there.” Jake pointed at her. “You stay put.”
Penny followed him. “I’m going. I can herd my cattle as well as you can.”
He stopped and grabbed her arms. “You have no business herding cows after a blow to the head.” He nodded at Sally, “I’m counting on you to keep her occupied. If she gets worse, call an ambulance.” He was out of the house before either woman could answer.
Penny’s anger spiraled. How dare he keep giving her orders in her own house?
Leastwise, she believed it was her house.
Surely it was.
She put a hand to her temple. If her head weren’t hurting something fierce she would have been fast on Jake’s heels. Gently, she touched the lump on her head.
Sally laid a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, I’ll bet your head’s aching. Shall I get you a cold cloth and some aspirin? Would you like to lie down and rest?”
“I’m fine,” Penny lied.
Sally patted her shoulder. “Now don’t fret. You come along with me to the attic. I’ll show you the rest of Penelope’s things.” She grabbed a box as she guided Penny up the stairs. “Guess I’ll call you Penny for want of a better name.”
“Good. My mother named me Penelope Jane after my two grandmothers, but folks call me Penny.”
Half under her breath, Sally muttered, “This is gonna be a humdinger of a day.”
In the attic, Sally flipped a switch and light flooded the attic.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, is this electricity?” Penny pointed to the lights overhead.
“That it is.”
“Well I’ll be a fly on the wall. I’ve heard about it, but never saw it. Terry Springs didn’t have electricity last time I was there, but there was talk of getting it.”
Penny wondered how it came to be installed in her house in such a short time. Dang, things simply were not adding up. Maybe she was as crazy as that handsome scoundrel Jake said.
She touched the knot on her head again. How long could she have lain unconscious in that little cave? She’d heard tell of a woman over by San Antonio who had lain in a coma for two years before she regained her senses. Penny had been hungry when she waked up, but she couldn’t have been out long. Varmints would have been at her if she’d been there over a few hours.
So how had this new electricity been installed? Furniture moved? Kitchen changed? New people shown up? Thinking about it only made her head ache more.
Sally gestured at the large attic. “You can see the Knight family saved all the furniture through the years, just like specified in old Earl’s will. That chest over there has all the newspaper clippings in it. The trunk has the rest of Penelope’s things inside. Well, those that weren’t in her room.”
“My room,” Penny insisted.
“Sure, sure. Um, your room. I forgot.” Sally didn’t sound convinced. She handed the box to Penny. “See, these here are tissues. Like handkerchiefs, only you throw them away instead of laundering them. I figure if you believe you’re Penelope, you’re gonna need ‘em.”
Penny accepted the box. “You think I’ll cry like a baby?” She couldn’t keep the censure from her voice. “I haven’t cried since I was five years old, ’cept when Daddy died. Even then, I didn’t cry where anyone could see me.”
“Well, it’s not my place to say, but you may be upset by some things you read here if you go through those clippings. You need me to stay with you?”
Penny set the box on the chest and faced the housekeeper. “Of course not. I’m a grown woman, not some baby on pap.”
Sally raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “Then I’ll get on with my work. You call out if you need me.”
When Sally had gone, Penny took a tour around the attic. She spotted a familiar shape under a sheet and peeked beneath the spread. Yep, this was her sofa. She removed the cover and sat down. A spring poked her backside and she jumped up.
On examination, the dark burgundy had faded and the velvet’s plush was worn in spots. She threw the sheet back over it and moved to another—her mother’s rocker that had stood near the parlor fireplace. She sat down and started the chair moving to and fro. How many times had she entertained herself this way? What was Momma’s rocker doing up here?
Systematically, Penny checked under each of the sheets concealing furnishings. Most pieces she recognized, some she didn’t. Apparently this other Jake had condemned nearly all of her home’s belongings up here and replaced them. What was wrong with him? She looked back where her sofa was hidden. Maybe some needed discarding, but not all.
She opened the trunk. In the top tray were her family photographs, plus her mother’s small portrait given Daddy before their wedding. Penny wondered where the larger portraits were? She held up a photo of her cousin Charlie then threw it down.
She pawed through the other odds and ends. Her daddy’s eyeglasses. His watch, fob, and chain. Her mother’s hatpins. She removed the tray and set it aside.
Her slicker and her heavy winter cloak were next. She sure could have used that slicker last night. Wasn’t it last night?
Beneath those were all her coats and spare riding gloves. At the bottom, a thick covering concealed her mother’s wedding dress. Penny felt a tear slide down her face. Her daddy had planned for Penny to wear that same dress for her own wedding.
Daddy had been so disappointed not to see her safely married. At twenty-six she was so old she reckoned her chances had passed and she would remain a spinster on the shelf forever. Not that she’d had that many beaus.
Earl Knight had courted her for the last five years and had come close to wearing down her resistance a time or two. After all, she wanted a family and Earl did love her. Or, he loved who he thought she was.
Jim Belton, that lying snake, had tried to convince her they would make a good team. She had politely but firmly turned him down. Looked like he’d tried to get the ranch another way. Thank heavens, she hadn’t wed him.
That lawyer who moved away, Mark, um, what was his name? And old man Tipple, who insisted she would make a good stepmother for his six kids—what a horrid thought. She didn’t count a passel of worthless men who knew she’d inherit a valuable ranch. Mollie had warned her fortune hunters would be coming to call, and Penny had sized up each one fast.
Wondering if the month really was October, she figured she’d better prepare in case Jake hadn’t lied about everything. She kept out her cloak, spare gloves, slicker, and a heavy coat and then replaced the rest and shut the lid. Lawsy, how she dreaded the chest and its newspaper clippings. After scooting her mother’s rocker near the chest she opened the top drawer. She took out a scrapbook filled with pages of yellowed newsprint, and sat down to read.
What would she do if what Jake said was true? Nonsense, he must have lied. She wore her clothes didn’t she? She’d slept in her bed, hadn’t she? In her own nightgown. Skullduggery had to be afoot somewhere.