Disarming Amy: Locket of Love Series, #1

Chapter 1

M illy, wake up. We have an early start today, Amy said, moving across the room and drawing back the curtains to let in the sunlight.

Milly shot upright on the bed, rubbing her eyes, her hair a tangled mess on top of her head, looking like a ball of tumbleweed calling for a brush.

Do we have to go to Grandma Reed? Terrence Gilbert said he’d take me to the carnival. It’s only going to be here for one more day. She exhaled as she did what her sister asked and got out of bed.

Amy’s hands found her hips. Milly, you’re fifteen. It’s time you stopped horseplaying around and took on some responsibility. I’ll be married to Seth Armstrong soon. Seeing to Grandma Reed’s needs will pass on to you once I’m gone from here. Seth has plans to go east. What’s more, you know our father doesn’t like you hanging around those Gilberts, they’re a rough lot. Besides Grandma Reed needs help. She sent word. Mercy’s been struck down with the influenza, and you know Pa won’t lift a finger to help her.

I know, but it doesn’t seem fair when we have all this money. Milly must have caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, her fingers darted to her head and began to comb through her hair. She teased the strands and tried to pat them down.

Amy’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. We don’t have any money, Pa does.

Wherever did her sister get the notion their father’s money belonged to anyone but their little brother Asher? Dead or alive, everything their father owned was for him.

Milly sat in front of the dressing table and fixed a stare on Amy’s reflection in the glass. Our other grandmother left you a tidy sum, why can’t we use that to replace Mercy, until she’s well enough to go back to work?

You sure know how to spend other people’s money. We won’t be staying long. Mercy’s niece will be down in a couple of days to take over from us.

I’m just saying, there are options.

Well, you can pursue those options when you come into your own inheritance and stop trying to spend mine.

I declare, Amy Wheeler, you can be meaner than a bobcat, when you have a mind.

And you’re about as selfish as one, Millicent Wheeler. Since you like to spend money so aimlessly, why don’t I ask Pa for an advance on your dowry? I’ll tell him you want to use it to support Grandma Reed, instead of going there yourself to help. What do you say to that?

Said it before, and I’ll say it again. You’re mean. Milly stuck her tongue out in the mirror.

Amy’s lips curved upward, as she rolled her eyes at her sister’s childish display. Milly may be fifteen, but sometimes she acted a whole lot younger.

I guess I must be, if that’s what it takes to do what’s right. Ma must be rolling in her grave to hear you talk this way. Saying you’d rather go gallivanting with the Gilbert boy, than taking care of her mother, now she’s gone and can’t do it no more.

Why’d you have to go and say it like that for? Now I feel bad inside. Milly gripped her stomach for emphasis and pouted.

And so you should feel bad. A young lady shouldn’t be hanging around with boys anyway. You’re getting too old, and it’s about time you started to act ladylike. Amy moved closer to her sister and rested a hand on her shoulder.

Terry’s my best friend in the world. No one is going to think anything of me going to the carnival with him. We’ve been going around together my whole life.

Amy arched a brow. Does he still see you that way?

Milly swung to face her, dislodging Amy’s hand. What’s that supposed to mean? Her mouth fell open, and her cheeks deepened in color, so she knew what Amy was implying. She shook her head. Sure, he does. It’s never been like that between Terry and me. He’s like a brother. Besides, Seth’s sister Violet, got his attention.

Doesn’t that bother you? Amy asked, seeing the veil come down over Milly’s gaze. Her sister’s mouth said one thing, but her eyes for a brief while revealed something else.

Nope. She swung back to face the mirror again. I told you we’re just friends, best friends. He knows my secrets and I know his.

Well, it isn’t healthy. He’s nearly a man.

According to how he tells it, he’s already a man. Milly giggled.

So why is he still messing with you?

He isn’t messing with me. It’s never just the two of us. For the most part, his twin sister April’s with us. Lately his ma’s been insisting on it. I reckon she’s of the same mind as you.

Why didn’t you say April was going too?

And miss out on you nagging, and preaching at me? Where’s the fun in that?

Amy sighed. Her younger sister thought little about keeping up appearances. It was her job to set Milly straight. If she continued to hang out with Terrence Gilbert, her reputation would be at risk. They weren’t snotty nosed kids anymore, and if Milly wouldn’t listen, maybe Terrence would. Their friendship the way it was had to end.

You’re a terrible little sister, Milly Wheeler.

Milly grinned. I know, but you love me anyway, isn’t that a fact, or you’d have called me Millicent.

To my detriment, yes, it is. Now go on with you and get dressed. Pack some things to stay overnight. We'll be staying until Mercy’s niece comes to take our place.

Amy began to make her sister’s bed.

Leave it. The maid will get it. Why do you always have to be doing stuff you don’t have to? Pa pays others to do these things, so we don’t have to. Milly got up and walked over to the chair where her dress hung and put it on.

I suppose you were too little when Ma died. She didn’t get around to telling you this, but she always told me to learn to do for myself. ‘You’ll never know when the money will run out,’ she’d say. And if that day ever comes, I should be ready.

Milly chuckled. If that day ever comes, I’ll come looking for you, to move in.

You have a smart mouth, Amy said. Palm flat, she smoothed out any wrinkles left on the bedspread with her hands, then moved to the dresser, and picked up a brush. Come over here and let me do your hair. It’s time you learned to do things for yourself, Milly. I know Pa doesn’t encourage us to be self-sufficient, but we need to know how to do things. He married Ma knowing she had nothing and could do for herself. It’s the same reason he doesn’t care too much for Grandma Reed. He thinks she’s greedy and acts like she’s entitled. But Ma said Grandma Reed used to be wealthy and lost it all, because she didn’t do something she was meant to. She never did tell me what that something was.

Milly’s eyes sparkled with interest. Didn’t you ask Grandma Reed?

Nope, I never did. I got the feeling Ma didn’t want me to. She stopped talking when Grandma Reed came into the room. Then Ma got sick and died. She never did finish the story.

I think when we get to Grandma Reed’s we should ask her? What else will there be to do once we finish all the chores.

You mean when I finish all the chores, and you get tired of watching me work.

I’ll do some too if you say yes to me asking her. I’m sure Momma won’t mind now. It will pass the time, and if I can’t go to the carnival with my friends, I can at least get a good story for my troubles.

We’ll see. Come on. If you’re ready, let’s go down to breakfast.

Together Amy and Milly made their way to the breakfast parlor. There she would inform her father of her decision to go and stay with her grandma for the weekend. Amy knew he wouldn’t be happy, but he wouldn’t try to stop them.

Their grandma hadn’t stepped foot in the house after accusing their father of killing her daughter. She’d said he’d gotten her pregnant knowing the risk to her life, all in his relentless pursuit for a son. Now he had what he wanted, but at what cost? Her child was dead. That was three years ago. Their father had since married again, needing a mother for their infant brother, Asher. A child Grandma Reed had never seen, nor was she likely to if their father had any say in the matter.

Their father was at the table reading his morning paper. Her three-year-old brother was firing morsels of his breakfast at their father’s newspaper while her stepmother tried to stop him. Milly, although finding the scene amusing, took her seat, lowering her head to ignore their stepmother’s obvious distress and Asher’s poor behavior.

Stop that, Asher, and be a good boy for Grace.

Her stepmother gave her a weary smile and removed the food from Asher’s fingers before he had a chance to launch another piece across the table at their father. Who was oblivious to the goings on by his three-year-old behind his newspaper. Not that he would have chastised the child. No, he would have treated Asher’s behavior as Grace’s fault and not his—for spoiling the boy to beyond rotten. Asher did what he liked, when he liked. He didn’t listen to a soul—least of all Grace. His father saw to that.

Good morning, girls. Grace gave them both a weary smile. Her eyes had shadows under them as if she hadn’t slept.

Amy returned the smile. She liked Grace, but she also felt sorry for her. Her stepmother was only eighteen when she’d come to live with them as a governess to Amy and Milly. Amy had been eight years old and Milly five. It was hard to believe ten years had passed. By the age of twenty-five Grace was married to their father and had inherited the responsibility of being mother to three children. Now she carried a child of her own.

Their father hadn’t looked up from his paper when they entered. The side facing them had bits of scrambled eggs stuck to it, leaving little soggy patches around it where it had hit.

Good morning, Pa, Amy said.

Milly said nothing as she placed food on her plate. He grunted something in acknowledgment, his eyes never straying from what he read.

Milly and I will be spending a night or two with Grandma Reed. Her companion is sick. She’ll be on her own until Mercy’s niece arrives in a day or two. I hope you don’t mind.

Her father flicked and stiffened his hold on the newspaper. He didn’t respond right away. She didn’t expect him to. She was sure, were the newspaper not blocking her view of his face, his lips would be pursed, his jaw rigid, and his eyes flaring. But he wouldn’t want to frighten Asher, with his fiery glare. It was one of the reasons she chose to ask him at breakfast, and not last night when she’d received the message. Asher’s tears affected him like nothing else.

The newspaper shuffled as it closed. He gazed and arched his brow at the bits of scrambled egg hanging from it as he folded it. He smiled, looked at Asher, who giggled with delight, and brushed his broadsheet clean.

Children are so ungrateful, he said, tucking his newspaper under his arm as he stood.

For a second, Amy thought he referred to her request to visit her grandma, the woman he hated.

When you grow up, Asher, I hope you have the mind to tell me where you’re going, and not just go wandering off as if you have no value to the people who love you.

Whatever do you mean, dear? Grace asked, opting to spoon feed some of the scrambled egg into Asher’s mouth.

Her father pulled the paper from his arm and waved it. Says here a Texas heir’s gone missing. He’s the son of an oil baron. He’s got a team of Pinkerton men out looking for him. He’s the only son. I can only imagine what his father’s going through.

Do they think he was abducted? Grace asked, covering her mouth as it fell open.

They don’t know. Says here they found some rover with his horse, wearing his clothes. They were going to hang him as a horse thief. Apparently before they could carry it out, he produced papers that stated the young man had given him his horse in exchange for his clothes. Saved the man’s life, but now no one knows what the heir is wearing or where he is. I reckon he lost his mind. Left a pretty little fiancée too.

Pa, about Grandma Reed? Amy reminded him, seeing as he chose to talk about some stranger’s troubles and ignore her request.

Go, before she starts spouting more of her lies about me. With that he left the room.

Chapter 2

Eugene Collart-Acus regarded the shaded areas of the space above his lip and chin. How long does it take to grow whiskers? He'd been at it a while now, and as far as he could see, the hair sprouting only succeeded in making his face look dirty, being as the hair on his face was a lot darker than what was on his head. However, his chin and top lip could do with learning from his head. The hair there had grown well and was almost past his shoulders. His gaze drifted to his bedroom door in response to the knock.

Gene, are you in there?

It was Toby, his friend from the neighboring ranch. Come in, Toby, he said, and returned to inspect his chin and the lack of whiskers he'd expected to see by now.

The door opened, and Toby walked in. Your mom said I'd find you here and that you’ve been in your room most of the morning.

Through the mirror, Gene saw Toby eyeing up his travel bag which lay open on the bed.

Are you going someplace? And what's on your face? I thought you'd given up the idea of growing whiskers.

Then you thought wrong. I need them. It's part of my disguise.

What disguise? What do you need a disguise for? Toby scratched his head and stared at Gene puzzled.

Do you ever listen to a word I say?

Sure, I do.

So, you remember me telling you I will not be marrying Cora Bourdain, on my father’s say so?

I heard you, but I thought you were joshing. The engagement has been announced, invitations sent.

"Not by me and not with