Linda Castle - Heart Of The Lawman

Marydyth released her grip on the edge of the washboard. She wiped her hands on the front of her dress. Putting one foot in front of the other she blocked out the pain in her side as she made her way through the darkness of the thick adobe passages.

Flynn rose from the wing-back chair in the lobby and sauntered to the front window of the Russ House. It afforded him an unobstructed view of the main street of Tombstone. Nellie Cashman and Mrs. Cunningham had done a fine job of making their hotel a success. The flooding of the mines in ’86 had dealt a hard blow to Tombstone, but as Flynn stared out the window he saw the town bustling with the usual assortment of bad men and businessmen. The place was fighting its way back with a mighty roar.

Idly he wondered if reopening the Lavender Lady would restore some of Hollenbeck Corners’ former glory. The idea rattled at the back of his brain as he scanned the street.

A painted cat entered one of the saloons across the street with a provocative flash of her turkey-red petticoats. A rowdy cowboy answered her invite, yelling hearty whoops into the dry air as he dismounted his horse on the run and nudged the swinging doors aside.

Flynn found himself smiling at the randy hombre. It seemed a lifetime since he had followed a woman like a buck in full rut. And longer than that since he had whooped in anticipation of bedding a whore. Since Rachel had come into his life he had been too busy to indulge in those pleasures.

His gaze fell upon a woman with a sedate blue bonnet walking from the direction of Schafer and Lord’s Mercantile. A gentle breeze made the feather on her hat sway back and forth.

He never did find a housekeeper to replace sour Mrs. Young, and it was just one more thing he had to deal with. He dragged off his Stetson hat and raked his fingers through his hair while he was chewing on the notion.

A whistle blew. His worry about Mrs. Young drifted away on the fading sound. The train from Yuma had arrived.

Marydyth Hollenbeck looked up and tried to stop the pounding of her heart. She was nearly home.

Home.

The word practically took wing and flew!

She gripped the seat in front of her with her workworn knuckles and waited until everyone else had gotten off the car. Then she rose, trying not to tremble, and headed for the door.

People stared at her and pointed, whispering about how she looked, but she didn’t care. They could not see beneath the jagged hair or the shabby dress the superintendent had given her before they let her out. They could not see her heart leaping with joy, or the tears of happiness threatening to pour forth. They did not know that the pitiful, threadbare creature who walked among them had a daughter named Rachel.

Marydyth inhaled air, fresh, free air, and nearly pitied the people beside her because they were not even aware there was a difference. How could they know the simple joy she felt by being able to walk where she chose?

Her feet were light as her heart as she made her way through the streets. The instructions had been simple. She was to use the money provided to buy a ticket to Tombstone. There, somebody would meet her and take her to Hollenbeck Corners.

Home.

A hundred plans flew through her head when she thought about it. She was so happy. She wanted to break into a run, to hurry to the hotel to get on her way to Hollenbeck Corners.

Who would meet her? Victoria? Moses Pritikin? But really she didn’t care who. All she could think of was collecting Rachel. Then they could begin their lives anew. They would pack only a few things, and then leave all the bad memories behind. She would get them on the train and they would just go.

Maybe Denver—or perhaps San Francisco. J.C.’s fortune would certainly buy a simple house in a respectable neighborhood. She could see that Rachel had a good education. Piano and dancing lessons—a proper finishing school.

Maybe she should learn a language. French?

France would be nice. Paris. There was nothing to stop her now—no bars, no ghosts. Marydyth was free. God had seen fit to show her mercy. She was going to be the very best mother any child ever had. There was only the two of them, but it was enough.

Dear God, it was enough to be a family.

She mumbled a prayer of thanks that the Lord had forgiven her for her sins as she put her feet on the boardwalk and hurried down the street toward the hotel.

Flynn chewed the inside of his jaw and searched every face that went by the hotel. He had made sure Marydyth had been told nothing, given no particulars about her release.

There were things he wanted to say himself. There were things that she would have to know before she saw Rachel.

Flynn was staring unfocused at the sunbaked caliche street when Ted Kelts stepped into his line of vision. The dapper businessman was the last person Flynn expected to see in Tombstone, but then the memory of Moses and Ted mentioning Ted’s trip to Washington flitted through Flynn’s mind. He started to step outside and speak to him but a clutch of people gathered on the boardwalk outside the window blocking his way. Kelts nearly collided with a thin woman who seemed to be in a big hurry. She crossed the street and opened the door to the hotel, then stepped inside the lobby. The threadbare dress was of poor quality and hung on her thin shoulders. She looked around at the lobby and turned.

He felt as if he had been kicked in the ribs by an Army mule. For the first time in memory, his knees went weak as water. He reached out for the back of a nearby green velvet chair for support.

The gold hair framing her face was jaggedly cut and no longer than his fingers, hanging limp and stringy. Her indigo-blue eyes were haunted, yet they glittered in away that was chilling. Her skin was gaunt and pale from lack of sun.

“Mrs. Hollenbeck?” Flynn took a step forward. “Marydyth?” he asked in a softer voice.

She rocked back on her heels at the sound of her name. The last trace of color in her face drained away. Those indigo eyes hardened until they resembled shards of Bisbee turquoise.

“You.” She hoped the one word held all the contempt she could manage. Time seemed to stop while she stared at him. He looked at her, unblinking. Marydyth studied the lean weather-beaten jaw as it jerked spasmodically. His eyes were as cold as ice-slicked sandstone and they bored into her. For the first time today she was ashamed of her plain prison-issue dress. For the first time today she felt a pang of dread.

Flynn tried to school his features, tried to hide his shock at the change in her. His stomach was knotted up, and it was hard to draw enough air into his lungs.

Dear God, what have they done to you? he thought, but all he said was “Ma’am.”

She moved suddenly, digging frantically into the pocket of the drab gray dress. She jerked out a folded paper and brandished it at him like a weapon. “I am free-my sentence was commuted by the governor. Go find somebody else to consign to hell, you bastard.” She continued to hold the paper up, as if it were a shield against hurt and harm.

Flynn flinched at the word “bastard,” and felt his pity turn to a hot flash of anger. He would have killed any man for saying that.

“Did you hear me?” she said. “I am free.”

“I heard,” he grated out. But when he didn’t reach to take the paper that she waved in front of her, she shoved it back into her pocket. Her hand hovered near as if she were fearful he—or someone—might take the precious document away from her. “I am not a wanted criminal anymore. You can get on your horse and—” her voice cracked “—just leave me in peace.”

“I came here to meet you, Marydyth, to take you back to Hollenbeck Corners.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’d rather walk.”