The Law and Miss Penny (35 page)

"I think she stays in room twenty-two. Why?"

"Because, Artemis." His face was red, almost purple with frustration. "It's high time I caught up with that sneaky son of a bitch of a marshal. If I have do it by catching the bastard with his pants down, then I will. One way or another, before this night is through, Morgan Slater will be one dead son of a bitch, or I'll know the reason why."

Lord almighty. If he hadn't gone and done it again. He'd messed up. Now it looked like his foolishness might just cost his new best friend his life. Should he warn Cain? Was there a way to do it without jeopardizing his own well-being?

* * *

After Artemis ran out of the barn, Morgan went straight to the sheriff's office to inform him that reports of his death had been greatly exaggerated. He hadn't gotten as much information as he'd hoped to out of Artemis, but Morgan knew that the young man was scared, frightened half out of his wits by something... or someone. Morgan still had a strong hunch that whatever had Artemis so skittish would eventually lead directly to the Doolittle Gang.

Sure that he was on the right track, he sent a wire to Durango, informing the sheriff there of his whereabouts and requesting an update on the Doolittle file. Then at mid-afternoon, Morgan joined the medicine show just as the first performance was getting under way.

The rain had let up, but the streets were muddy, dotted with puddles and small lakes whose surfaces were coated with thin layers of crinkled ice. He slipped easily into his previous role as Brother Law the Bouncer, and perused the crowd for undesirables—even though, near as he could figure, most of the undesirables in Silverton were taking part in the medicine show.

When at last the performance ended, uneventfully but successfully, Morgan gathered the Penny family and Artemis at the back of the wagon. Directing the bulk of his remarks to Zack, the easiest person for him to deal with, Morgan quietly said, "Since you fine folks saw fit to make me a member of this medicine show, I've decided to stay on with you as Brother Law for a little longer."

Artemis clapped his hands, drawing frowns from all three Pennys.

"Understand," Morgan went on, "that I'm staying with the show strictly to have further use of my Brother Law disguise. I want to keep Marshal Slater laying low until I find out what's been going on in my, ah, 'absence.'" His gaze flickered to Mariah, then quickly returned to her father. "You might also want to know that I've checked out of the hotel. I have family here, and I'll be staying with them until I leave Silverton."

"Glory be." Artemis could barely contain himself, so happy was he to hear this information. Now he didn't have to worry about whether he should or shouldn't warn the marshal about Tubbs's plans for him. Now he could sleep soundly, knowing that for one more night—the last night that mattered, since they would board the train in the morning—his hero would be safe, no matter how many hotel rooms Tubbs checked.

Morgan noticed the young man's high color and the general glaze that had lacquered his eyes. "Is something wrong, Artemis? You look like you might be a little upset."

"Oh, no, sir. I ain't a bit upset. I didn't know you had kin in Silverton, is all. I'd be right proud to meet 'em."

"I'm afraid, given the circumstances, that's not possible. I do expect you to keep the information about my family to yourself, however. And by the way—that's another order."

He saluted. "Yes, sir."

Morgan's attention returned to the Pennys. "That goes for all of you."

* * *

That night, as Mariah thought back over the day, she didn't know which had been worse: listening to Cain speak to her family in such clipped, businesslike tones, or hearing him talk about his own family so casually, and learning that he'd be living with them from here on out. It had been one thing to see him hold his little girl, but to imagine him with his wife, to know that they were cuddling in bed together the way she and Cain had cuddled just last night, was too much to bear. All she wanted to do was sleep. Sleep and forget.

With that in mind, Mariah turned in early. She tossed and turned for hours, nightmares and watery images drifting in and out of her thoughts in a continuous parade. Remembered moments with Cain always ended cruelly as visions of him alongside his wife nudged them aside. She thought she heard a noise as she pictured the petite blonde in his arms—metal against metal, a rattle—and wondered briefly if she hadn't just listened in on the sound of her own heart breaking into a million pieces. A beam of light skipped across her face shortly after that—a brief warming from the sun, she illogically decided. Then she caught his scent.

The unmistakable odor of male perspiration drifted under her nostrils. The scent of a stranger. By the time Mariah realized that someone had broken into her room, it was too late to scream, or even to blink. A meaty hand clamped over her mouth as the man fell across her breasts, crushing her to the mattress.

Tubbs touched the cold blade of his knife to her throat as he said, "Make one little sound, and it'll be the last one you ever make, sweetheart."

At the sound of the man's voice, Daisy rose up from her spot near the foot of the bed, arched her back, and began barking in a kind of half-yip, half-growl. All four legs stiff, she hopped forward, making several threatening lunges toward the man who'd attacked her mistress. On her last lunge, Tubbs reached out, snatched her up by the scruff of the neck, and flung her toward the wall.

Daisy's sharp yelp of pain was followed by a patter of tiny feet as she scurried under the bed, where Mariah knew she would now stay, huddled and frightened.

"Where the hell is Marshal Slater?" Tubbs demanded, his tone deadly. As he spoke, he took the hand that had been at her mouth and wound a length of her hair up tight in his fist, controlling the movement of her head.

Mariah's eyes grew huge, straining to get a clearer look at the man's features, but it was too dark. He'd referred to Cain as Marshal Slater. Was the man a part of the infamous Doolittle Gang? Gooseflesh broke out on her scalp.

"You got trouble with your hearing?" He twisted the wad of hair up tight against her skull.

"I don't know where he is." Even though she could pinpoint the precise location of the house on Thirteenth Street, she could not allow an animal like this to terrorize Cain's family or hurt the man she loved. "I guess he's in his own room."

"Guess again, sweetheart. I just came from room seventeen—empty room seventeen." The tip of the knife pressed against her flesh, piercing it.

Mariah stiffened as she felt a drop of blood roll down the side of her neck. "I'm telling you the truth. I don't know where he is."

"I don't believe you, sugar." Tubbs licked his lips. "I heard that you and the marshal have gotten mighty cozy. Don't make me ask you about him again, sweetie."

"But, honestly—I don't know." Her eyes more used to the darkness, at last she saw her attacker. His features were unfamiliar to her—he wasn't one of the men she'd seen on the Wanted poster—but his expression was not. He meant business. And would kill her if necessary. Mariah's mouth went dry, but somehow, she managed to go on. "We, ah, had a fight this morning. I don't know when he'll be back."

"A fight." Damned if it didn't just figure with the way his luck had been running of late. With a short, angry laugh, Tubbs considered his next move. There was only one option left to him, and it really wasn't a bad one at that. After all, he'd planned to take the woman out right along with the marshal anyway.

Tubbs released her hair. "You want to live to see another day, you'll do exactly what I tell you, and you'll do it quietly, so not even the cockroaches will hear you. Understand?"

She gulped. "Yes."

"Get up." He rose, lit the lamp, and stood back just far enough for her to climb out of bed. "Now get dressed."

"Dressed? But—"

"You're disturbing the cockroaches, sweetheart." He turned the knife over in his palm, catching her eye with the glint of steel. "Just shut your mouth and get dressed. We're going for a little walk."

She had no choice. Her legs wobbly, Mariah got up, crossed over to the freestanding closet, and took out a dress. Without turning to look at him, she whispered, "Would you mind stepping outside while I change?"

"I would mind one hell of a lot, sweetie. Now get a move on."

Keeping an eye on the door, Tubbs watched Mariah struggle into her petticoats without removing her nightgown or robe. When she finally had to slip out of the garments long enough to don her chemise and dress, he caught a glimpse of her naked back through her curtain of long black hair.

After she'd buttoned the bodice to the throat, Mariah turned back to the man. His eyes were luminous, filled with a particularly chilling kind of lewdness—a look that left no doubt as to his thoughts, or his intentions. Her fists automatically curled and her spine went rigid.

Tubbs laughed at her reaction. "Don't worry, sweetie. Not with Slater unaccounted for." He winked. "Maybe later. Just the two of us." He brandished the knife. "Fix your hair, and put on some shoes and a hat. We have to be on our way."

Mariah wound her hair into a sloppy knot at the top of her head and pinned it there. She slipped on her low-topped boots and reached for the only hat she had left: the deep, black bonnet which hid most of her features.

Then she bent over, automatically reaching for her nighty and robe, but straightened, instead. Always tidy to a fault, she figured if she were to leave her garments strewn about the room, when her mother and father eventually came to check on her, they would be more likely to figure out that she hadn't left of her own accord.

"Listen up, and listen good," Tubbs said as he moved closer. "Don't look at anybody and don't talk to anybody once we leave this room. Not so much as a peep from you, or"—he slipped the knife, handle first, up inside the sleeve of his sheepskin coat, palming the blade—"I'll whip this out and stick it in your gut so fast, you won't know what hit you. Understand?"

Mariah nodded, her heart in her throat.

"Good. I'd hate to have to carve up a fine specimen like you." Then he opened the door, took her by the arm, and dragged her out into the hallway.

As he reached back to pull the door closed, Daisy shot through the opening and dashed down the hall. Before Tubbs could react, she disappeared around the corner, her tail raised high like a flag. He laughed and clucked his tongue. "Sorry about that, sweetie. I hope a coyote don't get your little dog. She'd make a mighty fine snack. Just like you."

He wrapped his arm around her waist. "We're just gonna walk out of here like a pair of old married folks, understand?"

She nodded, and he hauled her down the hall and out into the frigid night air.

Chapter 18

The rest of the family had been in bed for hours, but Morgan was too restless for sleep, his mind far too busy trying to put his life back in order to give him the slumber he needed. And he was brooding, nursing his wounds.

Why not? The Penny family hadn't merely stolen his former life away, but the new one as well. Mariah had created a life for him which included her and all they had shared, only to cruelly snatch that away, too. His loss, near as Morgan could figure, was not only painful, but twofold.

During the many weeks of his recuperation from the accident, bits and pieces of the past had sprinkled down from his memory, filtered through his brain, and settled back into place. Yet even now that he'd returned to himself, there were still a lot of missing pieces, chunks of his life that he simply could not account for. Or, perhaps, would not.

Maybe, Morgan thought with a heavy sigh, he couldn't remember certain details because they were no longer important. In fact, many things had become less significant to him of late. Things like the burning need to bring justice to a disorderly world; the "hunt" when he was on the trail of a desperado; the anger he once felt inside, and the way he'd practically nurtured those feelings of anger in order to keep them alive.

Suddenly Morgan realized that the rage of long ago was gone, that the ugly serpent which had stoked his gut with a fiery and unrelenting anger roamed no more.

He suspected he had Mariah to thank for that. In fact, he had many things to thank her for, but the number fell short of the list of crimes she'd committed against him. Way short. Morgan stared at the roaring fire, hoping it might somehow burn the image of Mariah from his mind, her taste from his lips, the feel of her satiny skin from his fingertips.