Forget Me Not Read Free

slipped his hand into his trouser pocket, and came up with a small ring of keys. Before he could open the door leading to the cells, the street entrance was filled with a woman who, without any preliminaries, uttered frantically, “I’ve been robbed!”
    J.D. was about to jump all over Tuttle’s back when his focus veered toward the feminine voice. The lady looked so out of place framed inside the raw-wood doorjamb, wearing her eastern window dressing clothes, that J.D. couldn’t help staring. It wasn’t every day a woman laced up like that came into Sienna. From head to toe, she was decked out in pleats, sashes, laces, flounces, and straw flowers. The colors were springlike, soft shades of rose and a blue likened to the early-blooming forget-me-nots that grew alongside Buffalo Creek.
    She wasn’t classically beautiful, but her face was pretty enough to keep his gaze lingering. Thick, cinnamon-colored hair was braided behind her ears, the coils twisted and pinned upward beneath a sassy-looking hat sporting dyed plumes. The shape of her mouth was wide, and her cheeks were structured high with a light dusting of cosmetic color. Her eyes were an amber hue, just like the shimmer of bourbon splashed into a sunlit tumbler. She had a pampered figure, the kind that said she wouldn’t last five minutes out-of-doors doing anything more than taking a leisurely stroll.
    â€œRobbed?” Tuttle said, the keys jingling in his fingers. “Where?”
    â€œOn the train.” Her voice held a faint tremor, as though she were in serious trouble.
    â€œThe Number Thirty-five? Why didn’t old man Vernier come tell me?” The keys were put back inTuttle’s pocket, and he grabbed a rifle from the rack. “How many gunmen were there, ma’am?”
    â€œNone.”
    Tuttle froze. “But you said you were robbed.”
    â€œI was.”
    â€œHow so?”
    She answered quickly and with a note of alarm. “I’ve gone over the course of events from here back to Laramie, and I think I know what happened. After we left the last tank tower, we came upon a herd of buffalo. The train stopped suddenly so that those gentlemen wishing to shoot could do so. But with the screeching halt, floor luggage slid beneath everyone’s seat. In the confusion, someone handed me what I thought to be my valise, only it turns out that it wasn’t.”
    â€œThen you weren’t exactly robbed.”
    â€œMy valise had five hundred dollars in it. This valise does not.” She motioned to the wicker case in her grasp. “For all intents and purposes, I was robbed,” she insisted. “You have to telegraph the next depot and tell them to search the train for my luggage. A terrible error has been made.”
    â€œMa’am, for the next seventy-five miles the rail stations are nothing but cow pastures without a telegraph office to be had. Could be whoever gets off at one of them has your case. There’s no way for me to track down each individual. Folks are too spread out in this country.”
    A strangled cry broke from her throat. “But my five hundred dollars!”
    â€œThe best I can do is wire the first town over, which is Tipton,” Tuttle said while replacing the rifle, “and see if we can get this cleared up.”
    â€œWhat am I going to do in the meantime? I have no more than fifty cents to my name . . . no clothes . . . no . . . nothing.” She rapidly blinked, clearly on the verge of spilling tears.
    J.D. folded his arms across his chest and shifted hisweight. Crying women had their hearts in the wrong place. A true survivor wouldn’t be weeping over her situation, she’d be cursing it. J.D. could see that this one was about as helpless as they came. He didn’t have a high tolerance for women who had no guts.
    â€œTuttle, at least unlock Rio so I can get out of here with one man,” J.D. said, resigned