Page 65 of Fairest of Heart

“Agreed.”

Doc’s smile widened. “Good. We’ll leave Jeb, Angus, and Ike here with you. Jeb needs to rest his leg after yesterday’s exertion anyway.”

“Leg’s fine,” Jeb groused. “I rode most of the way.”

Doc shot him an exasperated look. “We need a rifleman to watch over Penny. You up for the task or not?”

Jeb’s scowl darkened, but he threw his shoulders back like a soldier reporting for duty. “Of course I am.”

“Good. Then quit your bellyaching. You, Angus, and Ike stay here with Penelope. I’ll take Dusty and Coy with me to follow Rowdy. Any questions?”

“I got one.”

Everyone turned to look at Angus.

“Can we eat now? These flapjacks are getting cold.”

Chuckles eased the tension, and food soon circled the table. Once plates were filled, heads bowed, and Doc spoke a blessing over the food. Penelope added her own silent prayer of thanks for unconventional families and the love that bound them together.

Whatever happens, Lord. Keep them safe.

Coy insisted on doing the breakfast dishes, but Penelope coaxed him into letting her dry. She really did hate to sit idle, after all. Though, the holiday Doc and others had forced upon her did provide opportunity to perfect her decoy scheme. With no other demands on her time, she was free to scour the house for filling material. Madame would not be easy to fool. If this plan was to succeed, Penelope had to find objects with faceted edges to mimic the feel of cut gems. If she filled the channel with smooth, round items like beans or beads, Madame would recognize the difference at once. If Narcissa believed the corset’s contents remained undisturbed, maybe she wouldn’t immediately pop the seams to verify the presence of the stolen gems. Perhaps she’d stuff the corset back into her trunk and wait for things to blow over. It was a slim chance, but worth the effort.

It took nearly an hour of hunting through the kindling box, dust bin, and forgotten crevices beneath beds before Penelope was satisfied with her collection of pebbles, seeds, and bits of metal. She even claimed what looked to be a gold filling from Rowdy’s jar on the mantel in the parlor. Using a wooden skewer, she pushed the items into the repaired boning channel one by one until half an inch remained at the top. Then she slip-stitched the top shut and inspected her handiwork by giving the corset a sharp tug on either side of the channel. The seam held.

Now for the most difficult part. Acting.

One would think that after spending months with a thespian troupe, Penelope would have picked up a thing or two about playing a convincing role. Yet when she dragged the galvanized tin washtub out to the yard and filled it with water and a few soap flakes, her heart beat with the force of a stampeding buffalo herd.

Act normal, Pen. It’s laundry, not Shakespeare.

Nevertheless, the nerves persisted, making her hands wobbly and her breathing erratic. How did Madame and the others do this with such calm aplomb night after night with scores of people watching? Penelope’s performance was likely for an audience of one or even none, but even so, her stomach swirled as if she were on a raft heading for a waterfall.

Breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, she pulled her mind from her stomach and placed it back on her task. She dropped three pairs of men’s drawers, two handkerchiefs, and a white shirtwaist she’d pulled from the late Mrs. Kingsley’s trunk. The bodice had been too small for Penelope to wear, but it did a fine job of bulking up her laundry pile, ensuring the corset wouldn’t hang on the line alone. Most of the items she’d pilfered were already clean, since she’d done laundry so recently, but she made a point to soak, scrub, and rinse each one just in case her performance did indeed have an audience.

Ladies didn’t typically wash their corsets, depending on their chemises and corset covers to protect them from perspiration and soiling. Although, sometimes a lady would spot-clean an area with a small brush, then leave the undergarment hanging in the sun to freshen and dry. So that’s what Penelope did, hoping her actions didn’t look as suspicious as they felt.

Once she finished the small load of washing and hung the items out to dry, Penelope took the corset to a section of the line farthest from the house, opened it flat, and draped it over the thick twine. She didn’t bother pinning it. With little to no wind, the boning would be heavy enough to keep it in place. Besides, the easier she made it to snatch, the more it would entice their thief.

She finished setting her stage by noon, exactly as she hoped. She hurried into the house to help Coy serve up the chili and corn bread he’d made for lunch. Rowdy returned as promised, and the rest of the Diamond D hands filtered into the kitchen as soon as Angus rang the dinner bell.

Penelope picked at her food, too unsettled to eat more than a few bites. Conversation rumbled around her, but she was too distracted to contribute. Her mind held only one thought steady—the corset on the line outside. Had Hunt seen it? Would he take the chance to seize it while all the men were busy in the house?

When Doc set out with Rowdy, Coy, and Dusty, she pleaded with them to take care. But as soon as they departed, she ran upstairs to Doc’s corner room, the one with a window overlooking the side yard. She peered out, examined the clothesline, then sucked in a breath filled with equal parts excitement and dread.

The corset was gone.

28

The sound of rustling vegetation accompanied by the smell of male exertion drew Narcissa’s attention away from the handheld mirror in which she’d been examining her carefully crafted appearance.

“I got it,” Cecil declared in a low voice as he jogged into their camp, his chest heaving.

He really was a fine specimen. Too bad he didn’t possess the wealth or intelligence to match those muscles.

“What ‘it,’ exactly?” She tucked the mirror into the bag sitting on the floorboard of the wagon, then turned to face her coconspirator. “You were supposed to scout the ranch and let me know when the time was right to make my entrance. Not risk discovery by swiping some random . . .” She waved vaguely toward a crumpled white item clutched in his right hand. “Whatever that is.”

He flicked his wrist and unfurled the item like a herald’s scroll. Her breath caught.