She tried sitting up. Someone had removed her shoes, but she was still dressed in her black crepe skirt and shirtwaist.

  “Take it easy,” the doctor said. Hands on her shoulders, he gently pressed her back against the pillow. “You have a concussion, but it doesn’t appear to be too serious.”

  Mama’s worried face hovered over his shoulder. “Is anything broken?”

  “Not as far as I can tell,” he assured her.

  That was good to hear, but Josie would have felt a whole lot better had he not looked and sounded so serious when he said it.

  Dr. Stybeck snapped his black leather bag shut. “Keep her comfortable and apply this to her bruises.” He handed Mama a brown vial containing tincture of arnica. “With a couple of days of rest, she should be good as new.”

  Josie sincerely doubted that, but his assurances earned Mama’s grateful smile.

  After the doctor left, Mama undressed her and helped her into a linen nightgown. It was a slow, torturous ordeal. There wasn’t a bone or muscle in her body that didn’t hurt. Once back in bed—under the covers this time—Josie spent the rest of the day drifting in and out of sleep, her dreams marred by fragments of sights and sounds that ended up with her being caught beneath the pounding hooves of cattle. Such was the horror that she woke up each time in a cold sweat to a less frightening but still disturbing memory of being held in strong arms, her head cushioned against a firm, masculine chest. The vision seemed too real to be only a dream.

  Mama appeared by her bedside throughout the day, regular as clockwork. She plied her with tea and wrapped warm towels around her bruised legs.

  “Mama, how did I get here?” Josie asked during one such visit.

  Mama straightened the blankets on the bed. “How did you get here?”

  “Who brought me to the house?”

  Mama thought for a moment. “I believe his name was Dr. Hastings.”

  “Hastings?” Josie closed her eyes. A vision of red plaid trousers and a tall silk hat flashed through her head. The oddly dressed man conflicted with the memory of strong arms and a bracing masculine fragrance.

  “Yes,” Mama said with a nod. “He drove you home in the back of his wagon. Mr. Wade carried you inside.

  At mention of Wade’s name, Josie’s eyes popped open. “Mr. Wade did that?”

  “Yes, and he waited in the parlor until he knew you were all right.”

  Josie bit her lip. Was it possible that those strong heavenly arms she couldn’t stop thinking about belonged to Brandon Wade? She squeezed her eyes tight.

  Oh, please, please, please don’t let it be so.

  ***

  Amanda stopped by the house later that afternoon. If she was upset that her speech wouldn’t make it to the convention, she did her best to hide it.

  “The important thing is that you’re all right,” she said, patting Josie’s hand. “My speech will be just as relevant at the next convention.”

  No sooner had she left than Meg arrived and fussed over her like an old mother hen. “I don’t understand.” She touched her palm to Josie’s forehead as if to check for fever. “I thought you were going to Austin.”

  “That’s exactly where I was heading.”

  Meg withdrew her hand. “But then what were you doing in that race?”

  Josie stared at Meg in confusion. A race? What was her sister thinking? “I wasn’t in a race. I was trying to outrun a cattle stampede.”

  Meg gasped and her hand flew to her chest. “There was a stampede?”

  “No, no, I just thought there was.” Josie rubbed her forehead. Her head still hurt and her thoughts were disjointed, but it was obvious from Meg’s face that Josie owed her an explanation.

  “When I lived in Arizona, there was a terrible brush fire and it started a cattle stampede.” Her mind drifted back in time for a moment before she could refocus her thoughts. “It was a miracle Ralph and I escaped alive. Unfortunately, one of our neighbors wasn’t so lucky.”

  The poor man had been trampled to death, leaving behind four small children and a heartbroken widow. Josie shuddered at the memory.

  “This morning, when I saw the cloud of dust, I was convinced it was cattle, and I tried to get away.”

  Meg’s eyes softened. “Oh, you poor, poor thing.”

  Josie suddenly thought of her mare. “Oh, no, Maizie!”

  “Don’t worry.” Meg reached for Josie’s hand. “T-Bone found her and brought her home. She’s fine. And Grant has already checked the wagon. He says repairs shouldn’t take him but a day or two.”

  “He didn’t have to do that,” Josie said. Her brother-in-law was in much demand as an attorney and had little free time.

  “It was Grant’s choice to take care of it,” Meg said. “So, see? You have nothing to worry about.”

  “Except for the hope chest,” Josie said with a groan. “Mama will have a fit.”

  Meg squeezed Josie’s hand between her own. “We’ll worry about that later. Right now, the only thing you need to think about is resting.”

  Josie grimaced at the thought. Who had time to rest? Certainly not her; she had a newspaper to run. “Don’t say a word to Mama. You know how she feels about that chest.”

  “My lips are sealed,” Meg said. “Now stop worrying. Mr. Woodman is an expert. Remember when Amanda accidentally shot it? Not once, but twice. And then there was that fire. He made the hope chest look good as new and will do so again. I know he will.”

  Josie covered her face with her hands. “Only if he’s a magician.” She didn’t even know the location of the wood pieces.

  “Right now, you simply must tell me how you managed to win that riverfront property. Everyone’s talking about it.”

  Josie regarded Meg over her fingertips before dropping her hands away from her face. “What are you talking about? What property?”

  Meg gave her a wide-eyed stare. “Why, the property you won with Mr. Wade, of course.”

  Josie gazed at her sister in dismay. Either the heat had affected Meg’s brain, or things had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

  ***

  After leaving the Lockwood house, Wade had ridden into town. The doctor had assured him that Josie would be good as new with some rest. Still, he’d been reluctant to leave.

  He hadn’t been able to believe his eyes when he saw her drive the wagon over the side of the road and down that dangerous precipice. The crazy woman. What had she been thinking? She could have been killed.

  Reaching his office, he dismounted and tied his horse to the hitching rail. With a glance at the Gazette office across the street, he shook his head and stomped up the steps to the boardwalk.

  Booker greeted him as he entered the office. “Congratulations, Chief. Heard you won the big prize.”

  Wade tossed his hat on a wall peg and sat at his desk. “Thanks, Booker. Have you seen my daughter?”

  “No, sir.” Booker looked uncertain. “You don’t seem all that happy. Is it ’cause of the lady editor? Heard you two have to share the prize.”

  “That’s still to be determined. Right now, Mrs. Johnson is recovering from an injury to her head.”

  The door flew open and his daughter stepped into the office looking all pink cheeked and out of breath.

  Brandon nodded. “Ah, there you are. I was wondering where you were.”

  “Hello, Mr. Booker,” Haley said before turning eyes rounded with appeal to her father.

  “Papa, can I ride Thunder? Oh, please, please say yes.”

  Brandon tapped the edge of his desk with a pencil. “Haley, we’ve gone through this a dozen times.”

  “You know I’m a good rider.”

  “That’s not the point. I have to keep my horse close. If a news story breaks, I may have to go somewhere in a hurry.”

  “It’s Saturday. Nothing important ever happens on Saturday.”

  Brandon laughed and tossed his pencil down. “Is that so? Do you agree with that, Booker?”

  Booker grinned and held up the palms of his hands. “Don’t ask me. I’m just an innocent bystander.”

  “So, can I? Papa, please.”

  Brandon felt himself wavering. “What’s going on? Why do you need to ride Thunder today?”

  “It’s hot, and me and the others want to go swimming. My friend Susie is gonna show me where the swimming hole is.”

  Brandon felt a sense of gratitude that his daughter was starting to fit in and make friends. For that reason, he gave a reluctant nod. “All right.” He glanced at his watch. “But I want you back by three o’clock.”

  “Oh, Papa, thank you.” Haley threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him before rushing away. A moment later he watched her mount his horse and ride away. Her slight body looked almost too small to be perched upon such a large animal, but she was a good little rider. He’d worked hours to make sure of that, and his horse was well trained. Still, he couldn’t help but worry.

  Chapter 9

  Upon hearing a drowning man cry for help, Mr. Winkelman handed his coat containing a roll of banknotes to an obliging fisherman. Thanks to Mr. Winkelman’s quick action, the drowning man was saved, but the obliging fisherman hasn’t been heard from since. —Two-Time Gazette

  First thing that Monday morning, Josie headed straight for Mr. Troop’s office, her parasol propped open. During the night, it had rain hard enough to muddy the streets, but not hard enough to end the drought. Now the sky was clear. Despite the early morning hour, it was already uncomfortably hot, and the humid air felt heavy as a wet blanket.

  Her shoulders were still sore and her legs bruised, but most of the swelling on the back of her head was gone, and it only hurt if she turned a certain way or moved too quickly. Her brain was now functioning more clearly, and her memory had returned. This was both a good and a bad thing, for she now had to set things right again.

  The developer had sent a message asking her to join him and Mr. Wade at his office first thing that morning to sign papers. Of all the crazy things, she’d been named a winner in a contest she hadn’t even entered. A terrible misunderstanding had occurred, and she hoped to straighten out the mess before Mr. Wade arrived.

  Wherever she went people commented on the race and the thrilling conclusion, which had ended with her concussion. The bank president’s wife seemed to speak for everyone when she proclaimed that “Since the winners are the editors of two competitive newspapers, fireworks are bound to follow.” Her prediction was the talk of the town.

  Any protests on Josie’s part fell on deaf ears. She was accused of being too much of a lady to own up to her amazing accomplishment.

  Josie hated disappointing everyone, but there would be no fireworks. Mr. Wade had won the race fair and square. She couldn’t in good conscience accept property she had no earthly right to.

  Admittedly, she was tempted to claim ownership, and that she wasn’t proud of. If only the prize in question wasn’t the piece of land Ralph had loved and dreamed of one day owning.

  The last thought almost made her stumble on the boardwalk. Breathing hard, she paused for a moment and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Such dreams they’d had—none of which had come true.

  Refusing the prize was the right thing to do. Still, it pained her more than words could say. How she hated the thought of turning over Ralph’s dream lot to the man who had nearly bankrupted her and who might still do exactly that. With this burning thought in mind she snapped her parasol shut. Tucking it under her arm, she burst through the door of the land office with such force Mr. Troop practically jumped out of his skin.

  Recovering quickly, he shot up from his desk and greeted her like a long-lost relative. One would never guess that this was the same man who had only a few short weeks ago yanked all his scheduled advertisements from her paper.

  “Ah, Mrs. Johnson. Sit down. Sit down. As soon as Mr. Wade arrives we’ll get started. Would you care for some coffee or tea?”

  “No, thank you,” she said. Retrieving her hand from his strong clasp, she sat and waited for him to do likewise. “I came to tell you that there’s been a . . . grave misunderstanding.”

  Troop’s eyebrows rose like hot-air balloons. “A misunderstanding, you say?”

  “Yes.” She placed her parasol across her lap and pulled off her gloves. “You see, I was on the way to Austin and—”

  The door flung open and in stepped Mr. Wade. Meeting his gaze, her heart sank. She had hoped to finish her business and leave before his arrival. The last thing she wanted was to see him gloat upon learning he was the lone winner.

  Troop jumped up and enthusiastically greeted him—but not before checking his watch. The man’s warmth was as thin as a penny.

  Her mind suddenly went blank and she momentarily forgot why she was there. If only she could keep from recalling the memory of Brandon Wade’s arms around her, or the feel of her head against his manly chest . . .

  Realizing with a start that her gaze had followed her thoughts, her cheeks flared.

  Any hope that Wade had failed to notice her wayward glance was dispelled by the look of amusement that flashed across his face. “Mrs. Johnson,” he said, pulling off his hat. “I trust you’re feelin’ better.”

  “Yes, thank you,” she said, forcing a cordial tone. His concern seemed genuine, and he had taken care of her following the accident. For that she was grateful. “I understand you were kind enough to see me safely home.”

  “I’m sure you would have done the same for me,” he said, then frowned. “Or maybe not.”

  She afforded him her brightest smile. “We’ll never know, will we?”

  Troop cleared his throat, drawing their attention away from each other. “Now that you’re both here, we can take care of business and be done with it.” He picked up two legal documents and placed them side by side on the edge of his desk. “The race was a complete success,” he gushed. “I’ve already sold half the properties.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Wade said, seating himself on the chair next to hers. “That’s prime land.” With a sideways glance at her, he picked up the document closest to him and proceeded to study it.

  Playing for time, Josie reached for the second document, forcing herself to breathe. She had intended to explain the situation to Mr. Troop in private. Had she not suffered a concussion and been thinking right, she would have straightened out the confusion at once. At her mother’s insistence, she’d been forced to stay in bed for most of the weekend. Unfortunately, this was her first opportunity to set matters straight.

  She steeled herself. “You can remove my name from the deed,” she said. “The property is yours, Mr. Wade.”

  Wade dropped the paperwork onto the desk. “You’re giving up the land, just like that?” he asked, incredulous.

  “I have no need for the lot, and splitting it will only ruin it.”

  He gazed at her a moment before responding. “Mrs. Johnson’s right,” he finally drawled. He addressed Troop, but his eyes never left hers. “Splitting the lot will ruin it.”

  “I don’t agree,” Troop said, reaching into a desk drawer for a map. “The lots are long and narrow. That’s so that as many lots as possible front the river.” He spread the map across the desk and stabbed the center of it with his forefinger. “The most logical way would be to split it width-wise. With some careful planning, the rear lot would still have a view of the river.”

  Josie stared at the map. The thought of Mr. Wade building a house on the very spot where Ralph had proposed marriage near broke her heart. She felt dizzy, but whether from grief, the heat, or her head injury she couldn’t say.

  Wade examined the layout, then shook his head. “If we divided it here,” he said, pointing with his finger, “it would leave the back lot with no access to the river, except through someone else’s property. And the front lot would have no access to the road. The only way to reach the road would be to trespass.”

  Troop looked at the map. “That’s true,” he admitted. “I didn’t expect the race to end in a tie.” His gaze traveled from one to the other and his smile faded. “I’m sure the two of you can work out the details.”

  Brandon turned to her. “Perhaps you’d be willing to sell your half to me.”

  Her thoughts having drifted back to Ralph and the day of the picnic, it took a moment to realize that Brandon had directed his comments to her. “T-that won’t be necessary,” she stammered. “You see, the lot rightfully—”

  Troop rudely interrupted. “If you will look at the contract you’ll see that the winner—or, in this case, winners—are not allowed to sell the property for one full year or until all properties are sold. Whichever comes first. I don’t want to have to compete with other sales.”

  Brandon’s expression stilled and grew dark. “Are you saying I can’t buy Mrs. Johnson’s half?” His look suggested that had been his plan all along.

  Troop shrugged. “Sorry.” His gaze slid between them like a fox measuring the distance to the hen house. “Do you need time to discuss how you wish to divide the land among yourselves?” he asked, though his tapping fingers stated he was impatient to get their business over with. No money could be made here.

  “That won’t be necessary.” She and Wade spoke in unison.

  She lifted her chin and tried not to think of the land as Ralph’s. Just as she tried not to think of the children she and Ralph had planned on having. How could a marriage that seemed so perfect leave behind so many broken dreams?

  She clenched her hands. “The lot should not be divided, and it won’t be!”

  “I quite agree.” Wade rose and replaced his wide-brimmed hat. “Dividing the property makes it virtually worthless. And since I’m an all or nothing type of guy, I hand over my half to Mrs. Johnson. At least one of us will benefit.”

  Josie shot to her feet with such force her parasol flew off her lap. “Oh, no! You don’t understand. The property is yours. All of it.”

  Wade bent over to retrieve her parasol. Straightening, he handed it to her. “No, no, that wouldn’t be right. Contrary to what you might think, I didn’t purposely set out to ruin you or your newspaper. Please accept my half by way of apology.” Without another word, he stalked to the door.