Rebel With A Heart. Carol Arens
didn’t need to be privy to. It would take a heavier snowfall than this to keep men of low morals and women of loose values from their amusement.
Despite the cold, the front door was open to let out the choking smoke that built up in those places. If it were up to Lilleth, Jess would never be old enough to witness mostly exposed bosoms and the men ogling them.
“When we walk past the front door of the saloon, squeeze your eyes closed.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed, but a grin crossed his face. And weren’t his eyes cracked open a slit?
Well, a grin was better than tears. Blooming adolescence would be something for Bethany to deal with once they set her free.
All would be right when she was Auntie Lilleth again, free to spoil and coddle.
They had taken only a few steps around the corner of saloon when the wind began to howl. Cold air bit through their wool coats. Mary whimpered in her sleep. The three blocks to Mrs. O’Hara’s couldn’t come soon enough.
It became difficult to see through the swirling snow.
Just in time, Lilleth spotted a house in the distance.
“That way, Jess.” She pointed through the shifting white veil.
In another moment a front porch came into view. A front porch with a red lantern hanging from the eves!
It couldn’t be. Mr. Hotel Owner would not have sent her here...he couldn’t have. Maybe Mrs. O’Hara simply liked red lanterns.
In any case, there was nothing for it but to knock on the door. The children couldn’t take much more of the cold. Lilleth’s own feet were becoming icy stubs.
The door opened after the third knock. Dim light and warmth spread over the porch.
“Is there something I can do for you, missus? Are you lost? And in this weather!”
Jess didn’t bother to hide his grin or squeeze his eyes to respectable slits. Clearly, he was bedazzled by the woman with nearly purple hair, clown-red cheeks and eyes lined with black. Or more likely it was her mostly exposed bosom that made his eyes pop wide in wonder.
“No, not lost.” Lilleth took Jess by the shoulder and turned him to face the street. “The owner of the Riverwalk Hotel directed me here after he gave away my room.”
Well! Mr. Hotel Owner would not insult both her and Mrs. O’Hara by his little joke. This would not be the last he heard of it.
“On occasion I do rent upstairs rooms. But this wouldn’t be the place for you and your children. It wouldn’t be seemly. I’m sorry.”
“I understand, Mrs. O’Hara. We’ll find another place.”
“I hope you do. I wouldn’t turn you away, but there’s the children, you see.”
Yes, there were the children. Lilleth hustled Jess down the steps. Mr. Hotel Owner would be well aware of them before this night was through.
Chapter Two
One mile outside of town, Trace opened the gate of Hanispree Mental Hospital and walked through.
Apparently neither Dr. Merlot nor Nurse Goodhew had braved the weather to come outside and lock it for the night. Good luck for Trace—it saved him having to scale the tall stone wall surrounding the place.
The grounds of the hospital looked like a winter playground. The pristine snow covering everything resembled a sparkling blanket. Now that the storm had blown away, the moon shone down to make the area glisten.
But the wind was cold as needles.
To anyone who didn’t know better, which would be nearly everyone until he finished his exposé, Hanispree was a lovely place to house the mentally ill. Benches and flowerbeds, bare at this time of year, were connected by a series of winding paths. The building itself was made of the same stone as the wall, with three stories of windows overlooking the elegant park.
To Trace’s knowledge, no inmate of the hospital had ever set foot on the paths or sat upon the benches, even when the park was at its loveliest in the spring.
A shiver took him from the inside out. One day soon he would have this place shut down. The patients would be better off away from here, housed in institutions where their well-being was important to the caregivers.
Trace walked across the grounds toward a wide front porch, leaving a trail of footprints in the snow. The verandah, lined end to end with rocking chairs, welcomed him forward.
Through the front window the glow of a fire in the hearth cast golden light into the night. Too bad the aura of comfort was a lie.
Unseen in the dark, he watched through the window for a moment. Nurse Goodhew dozed in a fireside chair with her stocking-clad feet stretched toward the flames.
To call Mrs. Goodhew a nurse was like calling a grade-schooler a professor. From what he had learned, she was there for appearances only. Well, also to keep Dr. Merlot entertained of an evening.
Ah, here came the good doctor now, tiptoeing toward the snoring Mrs. Goodhew and touching her where a gentleman shouldn’t.
Spy time was over; if Trace didn’t get inside now, he might be shivering on the porch until they finished their tawdry business.
He rapped on the door. When a few moments later Nurse Goodhew opened it, she was wearing her shoes and a sour-looking smile. Dr. Merlot was nowhere to be seen.
“Good evening, Mrs. Goodhew. I’ve come with a delivery of books.” He stepped inside, then stomped the snow from his feet. He took off his hat and thumped it against his thigh.
“Mr. Clarkly! Really, this floor was spotless. Who do you think will clean it now?”
“Why?” Trace lifted his spectacles an inch off his nose and peered at the floor through the broken glass. “I do beg your pardon, Nurse Goodhew. I didn’t mean to create a mess.”
He shook his head, adding a few more splatters to the floor.
“You must be a madman, coming out in this weather to bring books to people who can’t even understand a word on the page.”
“Yes, but I’m certain they will enjoy the pictures.” He pulled the book on top of the stack from under his arm, opened it and extended it for her to see. “Look, we’ve got animals of every kind, frolicking in water.” He turned the page. “Or nibbling grass.”
“Give them here, then.” Nurse Goodhew took the stack. “I’ll see them delivered first thing in the morning.”
She wouldn’t, of course. She never did.
“Thank you. I’m sure your patients will be grateful for your kindness.” Trace shook his shoulders, dropping more globs of melting snow on the floor. “Oh my, beg pardon again. If you’ll allow me, I’ll clean this up before I go. It’ll just take an instant.”
“See that it does. That water will leave a mark if you’re not quick about it.”
“To be sure, Mrs. Goodhew.”
“I’ll be back with cleaning rags.” She frowned at him authoritatively. “Don’t move from that spot.”
“Oh no, not an inch, I swear it.”
Half a second after she stepped out of the room, Trace slipped off his boots and coat. He hurried to the desk where the key to the back door of the inmates’ cells was kept. The second drawer down, he recalled, under a bottle of whiskey.
Tonight, there was only the bottle of whiskey.
He hurried back, stepped into his boots and put on his coat, and waited two full minutes for the nurse to return with her cleaning rags.
She shoved them at him with another frown. He made quick work of drying the floor. He’d lose some time