Heart Of The Lawman. Linda Castle
shirt and folded it end over end, twisting the material until a steady stream of water gushed out. When it was wrung as dry as she could get it, she tossed it into another tub of clear water to rinse. Over and over she repeated the task—scrubbing, wringing, rinsing.
She had not had a change of clean clothes in so long she could not count, but Superintendent Behan wore a clean shirt every day, just like Superintendent Gates before him and Superintendent Ingalls before that. She had counted the march of days and months through three different superintendents.
How many more she would see come and go before she died within these earthen walls?
Memories of her life in Hollenbeck Corners rose unbidden to her mind. Images of her fine clothes and the house J.C. had built for her flashed through her consciousness. She had been rich, and, if not liked by the townspeople, she had at least been respected for the position her husband held. But that was long ago, before Flynn O’Bannion had found the Wanted posters. Before the terrible thing she had done came back to haunt her, before God found a way to punish her for her sins.
Marydyth shook herself and focused on the washing, forcing her emotions to the edges of her mind. When she was sure the blaze of rage was subdued, she allowed herself to think again.
It was odd. When she came to Yuma she was a bundle of emotions. Then she slowly changed. First her compassion had died, followed by her ability to feel pain. The only defense against the crushing brutality inside these walls had been to stop caring, stop feeling. Marydyth had been thankful when she stopped experiencing those emotions, it made each day more bearable. She had allowed herself to retain only two emotions in this place; her love for Rachel and her hatred of Marshal Flynn O’Bannion. Two emotions, as different as hot from cold or ice from fire, but both had kept her sane.
And both were of equal measure and intensity. She hated Flynn with the same passion that she loved Rachel.
Marydyth was bent over the washtub when the short hair at the back of her neck prickled.
She stiffened, suddenly alert and aware. Living in this pesthole had required her to develop senses and hone instincts she had never known she possessed. Even when she had been on the run after Blaine had forced her to marry Andre, she had not felt as hunted as she did within these walls.
She gripped the sides of the washboard, ready to use it as a cudgel to defend herself. She partially turned, keeping the tub of hot water at her back for protection.
Marydyth met the fetid breath and unwashed stench of one of the prison guards. “Superintendent wants to see you in his office.”
The information refused to register in Marydyth’s brain. “See me? Why?”
“If I knew, I sure as hell wouldn’t be tellin’. Come on.” She received a bruising prod from the thick oak stick the guard carried.
“Move out,” he barked.
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