Dorothy Garlock - [Wyoming Frontier] (40 page)

Katy couldn’t believe it either. She pushed her way to Rowe’s side and grabbed his arm.

“You can’t,” she hissed. “You have no right!”

He looked down at her with a puzzled frown on his face.

“What do you mean, ‘no right’? If I had my way we’d hang the bastard. He can thank Elias and Big John for persuading the rest of us not to hang him.”

“What you’re doing is barbaric!”

“What he did was barbaric!”

“Let the marshal handle it.”

“What marshal? They’ll not bother about something they consider so piddly. They’ve got robbers and murderers to catch.”

“I don’t want you to do this!”

“It’s going to be done. That man is going to suffer for what he did to that girl.”

“There are other punishments. He didn’t actually rape her.”

“As far as she’s concerned, he did. Would you rather I turn him loose to complete the job?”

“I’d rather you be civilized and turn him over to the proper authorities. You’re not a feudal lord with life and death power over your subjects,” she said heatedly.

“I am the proper authority here. He is guilty and will be punished.”

“Why don’t you cut off his hand? A public whipping is just as sadistic!”

“Go on down to Mary’s or over to Mrs. Chandler’s. I’ll come for you when it’s over.”

“If you do this, don’t bother. I’ll not go with you!”

Rowe ignored her parting shot, strode over to Ashland, and took the whip from his hand.

“This is my job, Art.”

Hank stepped forward and tore away Lee’s shirt, leaving his back exposed to the light cast by the lanterns. The crowd stepped back. There was a breathless stillness before Rowe began his self-appointed task.

The lash broke across the quiet like the snapping of a dry branch. The pain caught Lee by surprise and took his breath away. After that, the lash across his back came with regularity and he set his teeth to endure it. It came to him through his agony that it was Lizzibeth, the madam from the whorehouse, who had stepped forward to count the blows in a loud, strident voice. He locked his jaws with the determination of a bulldog that had been his pet when he was a child. He’d be damned if he’d give this rabble the satisfaction of hearing him cry out. Lee centered his thoughts on what had sustained him throughout his entire life—pride and revenge. He endured the agony inflicted on his body, but he knew he would never heal from the humiliation until his tormentor was dead.

Fire! His back was on fire.
Twenty-five.
The bastard was trying to kill him! Through the agony that filled his brain an intense hatred grew.

“Twenty-six,” the madam shouted.

The agony went on. The serpentine fire engulfed him. Once, he thought he couldn’t endure it. Then he closed his mind, and from somewhere in the darkness he heard his papa say, “You’re a Longstreet and don’t you forget it.”

Lee was not aware when the woman shouted, “Fifty!”

Rowe coiled the bloody leather and handed the whip back to Ashland. The crowd stood silently as Rowe cut the rope between Longstreet’s bound hands, and he and Hank caught the man beneath the arms as his knees buckled. They half-carried, half-dragged him to the bench and set him down. Rowe went to where Mrs. Longstreet and her children stood on the walk in front of the hotel.

“I make no apology for what we did to your husband. He deserved every blow.”

Vera nodded numbly. She looked at the man slumped on the bench. He was as far apart from her as he had always been. She gazed down at hands that had worked to raise their children, then back at the man who considered himself so far above her and his own flesh and blood.

“If someone will help him to his room, I’ll . . . take care of him.”

“Ma!” Taylor grabbed his mother’s arm. “No! Let him take care of hisself; he won’t thank you for it.”

“Hush, Taylor, he’s your pa. Agnes and I will look after him, Mr. Rowe.”

“How can you do it, Ma, after what he did to Myrtle?” Agnes wailed.

“Because he has no one else, and because I owe him for giving me the two most precious things in my life—you and Taylor.” She turned to Rowe. “I’d be obliged if you helped him to his room. And . . . Mr. Rowe?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“The children and I want to stay on here. We’ll work and pay our way. They’re good children—”

“You have a place here for as long as you want it, Mrs. Longstreet. My wife and I will help you in any way we can.”

Rowe turned quickly away when he saw the flood of tears come to the woman’s eyes.

Katy looked at the calm, set faces of the crowd that stood silently around the well. A public whipping was something that was common fifty or a hundred years ago, not in 1874. The man should be punished, but it wasn’t Rowe’s place to do it and certainly not in this manner. This country would never be civilized if justice were meted out in such an offhand manner.

The ghastly
plop
made by leather hitting bare flesh jarred Katy from her thoughts and set her to trembling. She looked at the tall, dark man standing on spread feet, wielding the whip, and could not equate him with the man who had loved her so tenderly. She couldn’t see his face and didn’t want to. Her stomach heaved violently. She darted through the crowd just as Lizzibeth called out, “Four!”

Katy walked rapidly down the street, up the hill past the cookshack, to the cabin where she and Rowe had lived since Mary and Hank were married. She had to be alone to absorb the dreadful revelation that her husband was less than the perfect man she had thought him to be.

For a long while she stood with her back to the door, her hands over her face. How could he do this? Her gentle, loving Rowe had in an instant turned into a cold, vengeful brute capable of stripping another man, tying him to a post, and whipping him as she had seen cruel overseers whip slaves before the war. Lee Longstreet deserved punishment; there was no doubt about that. What he did to that poor child was terrible. It was Rowe’s duty to see that he was taken to the territorial capitol and brought before a judge of the court. Instead, Rowe had chosen the jury, set himself in judgment, and elected himself to mete out the punishment.
He enjoyed it.
It was as if he had reverted to being a primitive landlord of a thousand years ago.

Katy undressed in the dark and slipped her nightdress over her head. She usually unbraided her hair before she went to bed, but not tonight. She crawled into bed, turned her face to the wall, and pulled the covers up over her ears. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and seeped into the pillow. An ugly little serpent of bitter disappointment had slithered into her Garden of Eden.

She knew the instant Rowe’s foot landed on the step stone. She also knew he would be angry that she had come up to the cabin alone. He had told her repeatedly that she was to stay with Mary or Laura if he was unable to be with her in the evenings.

A match flared, then went out. He knew she was here. She heard him drop the bar across the door, move across the room, remove his gunbelt and hang it on the peg beside the bed. She heard the chair creak when he sat down to remove his boots. When he lifted the cover to get into the bed, she moved a few inches closer to the wall.

“Katy?” His hand cupped her shoulder to turn her toward him, but she shrugged it off. She expected him to chastise her for coming to the cabin alone, but a silence followed. Then, she felt his hand on her braid. “You didn’t undo your braid. You know it gives you a headache to sleep on it.” His voice came softly out of the darkness even as his fingers pulled the ribbon from the end of the long rope and began to pull the strands apart.

“Leave my hair alone.” She tried to pull the braid over her shoulder, but he refused to let go.

“No. I’ll not allow you to sleep on the braid because you’re peeved with me.” He continued to loosen her hair, then rubbed gently at the nape of her neck. “Come here to me, sweetheart—”

“No. I’m not a chattel to be fondled when it pleases my lord.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” He grasped her shoulder to turn her toward him.

Anger flared in Katy. She balled her fist and swung. The blow caught him on the upper arm.

“Don’t paw me!”

“Paw you!” A crude oath slipped from Rowe’s lips. “Now, goddammit, Katy, I’ve had enough!” In a lightning fast move he flipped her over facing him, wrapped his arms and legs around her, and clamped her to him. Her arms were imprisoned between them; her struggles were as nothing against his strength. He held her so tightly she couldn’t even butt him with her head. Anger and frustration caused her heart to pound like a hammer in her chest. She hissed and growled like an infuriated cat.

“Let go of me, damn you!”

“Now you know how that little girl felt when she couldn’t move and a man was trying to go inside her. He held her just like this and she couldn’t even cry out.”

“What he did was no excuse for what you did.”

“I did what was right. I didn’t think I’d have to justify my actions to my wife of all people.”

“You can’t justify them. A public whipping is the ultimate humiliation.”

“What that child suffered was the ultimate humiliation,” he ground out angrily. “What I did was to save the worthless bastard’s life.”

“The court in Virginia City should have dealt with him.”

“My God! You are naive. He’d not have lived to get out of town. Those men would have strung him up without a trial if not for Hank and me. Do you think I enjoyed doing what I had to do?” After a short silence, he gritted, “You do think that!”

“Yes, I think that!”

“It was harder for me to lay the whip on him than it would have been to shoot him. I could have put a bullet in his head without batting an eye. He’s a worthless piece of horseshit that his wife and kids have had to endure all these years. I didn’t dare let Ashland or one of the mule skinners whip him. They would have killed him with that whip. If we had hanged him it would have set a precedent and given Trinity the reputation of a vigilante town.”

“That’s all you’re worried about—your precious town!”

“That’s not fair and you know it. You’re hurt and sick because you think you’re married to a cruel man. Katy, Katy, you don’t know what cruelty is. That man’s back will heal. His neck would not have. In a few years when little Myrtle is a bride and her husband touches her here and here,”—he ran his hand caressingly over her breasts and down her belly to her soft mound—“don’t you think she’ll remember the first man who spilled his seed on her little body?”

“I know that,” Katy began to cry. “He’s a beast! I just didn’t want you—it was just like I didn’t know you!”

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. I could see the disappointment in your eyes. I did what I thought was just and fair, and I’d do it again. If you’re disappointed in me, I’ll just have to live with it and hope I’ll not disappoint you again.”

“I’m . . . sorry—” she whispered against his chin as he attempted to kiss the tears from her eyes.

“No. Don’t be sorry. We’re not always going to agree, but we’ll face what comes together. I love you, my Nightrose. You must always believe that, even when I disappoint you.” His lips sipped at the tears then moved to her mouth.

“And I love you,” she whispered against his lips.

In Virginia City, Anton stood with his back to the wall of the newspaper office and watched Justin Rowe leave the hotel and walk up the street toward the alley where he would take the path through the field to the Doll House. In the week and a half since he had called on Helga and had sent the telegrams to his brother and to the nursemaid, he had noticed a drastic change in Justin’s physical appearance. Rowe’s brother had lost a lot of weight. He walked hurriedly as if he had only one purpose in mind, always with his head down and unsteadily, even after a day of sleep. It was plain to Anton that Justin was on the road to destruction, like a runaway train going downgrade.

It had taken longer than Anton had thought to get the answer back from his brother that the child was safe. He’d had to intercept a telegram sent to Justin by the child’s nurse. The greedy bitch wanted to make sure she was going to be compensated for the risk she was taking in hiding the child from his mother. Word had come today that little Ian Rowe was in George Hooker’s keeping, and Anton was anxious to tell Helga.

Anton started for the hotel even before Justin turned the corner. A warm feeling engulfed him as he thought of the relief it could bring to Helga when she heard the news. He would help her to get her things together. Tonight she would move in with Nan Neal until he could make the arrangements to send her to his brother in Philadelphia.

Anton paused on the walk to analyze his feelings about that. Hell! He’d become so embroiled in taking care of her he didn’t relish the idea of sending her to George. George just might be attracted to her and, worse than that, she to him. Holy shit! George was a good-looking man and had a lot more to offer a woman than he had. George would be ideal for Helga. With his connections, he’d be able to get her divorced from her husband; what’s more, he could be just as ruthless as Justin.

“I’m getting the cart before the horse,” he mumbled as he turned into the lobby of the Anaconda. The clerk nodded. Gossip about Anton Hooker and Mrs. Rowe was running rampant among the hotel help. He had been here every night within ten minutes of her husband’s departure.

Anton took the stairs two at a time, eager to tell Helga the news. The door at the end of the hall opened and she stood waiting for him. He followed her into the room and closed the door.

“You’ve heard?” she asked.

“Yes.” He couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He pulled the telegram from his pocket and handed it to her.

Helga opened it with trembling fingers. Tears flooded her eyes. “Oh, Anton! Read it to me.”

He shoved his handkerchief into her hands and cleared his throat.

ANTON HOOKER

VIRGINIA CITY, MONTANA TERRITORY

BOY IS HERE
stop
JUNIE IS IN HEAVEN
stop

NURSE HEADED FOR CANADA
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IAN IS A

FINE LAD
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WHAT IN HELL ARE YOU UP