Relic

by Renee Collins

  “Can I help you?”

  “Is Sheriff Leander here?”

  “It would appear not, now wouldn’t it?”

  I bristled. Adelaide came in behind me, one hand on her hip. “What is going on, Maggie?”

  “Nothing. I have to talk with the sheriff, that’s all.”

  Adelaide glanced at the bald ranger, then at me. “Well, guess we can go home, then.”

  “No.” I stepped closer to the desk. “It’s very important.”

  “He ain’t here,” the bald ranger said, sitting up. “How much clearer do I need to be?”

  “I’ll talk with you, then. It’s about the town burnings. I know who’s responsible.”

  The bald ranger snorted softly and leaned back in his chair. “That right?”

  “Yes.” I pulled the newspaper clippings Landon gave me from my pocket and pressed them to the desktop. “These burnings all have a direct connection to the Chimera Gang.”

  “Uh-huh.” The bald ranger pulled a cigarette paper from his vest pocket and began rolling himself a smoke.

  I looked to Adelaide, but she only shrugged.

  “Did you hear me?” I said, turning back to the ranger. “You people are going after the wrong men. The Apaches have nothing to do with these burnings. It’s the Chimera Gang. The proof’s right here in this paper.”

  The bald ranger struck a match against his boot and lit his cigarette. He puffed in a breath, then exhaled a column of smoke into the room. “I’ll be sure to pass that information along to the sheriff, miss.”

  I envisioned myself taking that cigarette right out of his mouth and stamping it on the desktop. Instead, I adopted the most authoritative stance I could. “I’d like a word with the prisoners, please.”

  The bald ranger gave a half laugh, half choke on his cigarette smoke. “You’d like what?”

  “Sheriff Leander lets me talk with them whenever I like.”

  “Listen, girlie, I suggest you march your fancy little—”

  Adelaide suddenly pressed her hand over her chest. “My word. Is that a troll relic you got there on your hat?”

  I recognized the slightly exaggerated drawl in her voice at once. It was the flirty way she spoke when she was trying to secure the high rollers at the saloon for the night.

  The bald ranger blinked at her. “Why, yes, it is.”

  “How fascinatin’,” she said, moving forward. She perched herself coyly on the edge of the desk. “I’ve never seen one of them up close before. Are they awful powerful?”

  He shifted in his chair, startled at her sudden attentions. “Well, yes, ma’am. They are.”

  “I’m scared just lookin’ at it.” She batted her eyes once. I’d never seen a girl with such a knack for grabbing a man’s attention. She bit her bottom lip and leaned over to look at it, showing just enough bosom to entice him.

  “Just fascinatin’,” she said again. “Say, why don’t you let Maggie go talk with those prisoners? They aren’t goin’ anywhere. And while she’s talking, you can tell me how that relic works. Only don’t try and scare me, or I’m liable to scream.”

  The bald ranger chuckled, already under her spell. His smile faded a little when he looked back at me. But after a playful, pleading look from Adelaide, the ranger snapped his head toward the cell. “Two minutes.”

  I owed Adelaide big.

  My heart pulsed with anticipation as I rushed down the little hallway that led to the cell. The one tiny window in the room had been blocked with a plank of wood, so at first, all I could see were shadows. Then one of them stood. The single strand of light that pushed in past the blockade cut across his face.

  “Maggie?”

  The sight of Yahn, alive and safe, filled me with white sunshine as I rushed to the cell. Breath caught in my throat, and I felt the strange urge to reach through the bars that separated us and touch him.

  I resisted. It didn’t seem right. But I couldn’t stop the words that flowed from my heart. “I thought they hanged you,” I said, my voice choked. “I would never have forgiven myself if they had.”

  “We are safe. For now.”

  “I was so afraid. I saw the mob outside, and I thought for sure—”

  “Maggie.”

  The sadness in his tone silenced me.

  “My people,” he said. “Are they safe? Do you know if they have been attacked?”

  “Not yet, but I fear it’s only a matter of time.”

  Yahn’s face lowered, and he exhaled shakily.

  I gripped one of the bars. “Listen to me, Yahn. I know who’s responsible for the burnings. And as soon as I see the sheriff again, I’m going to make things right.”

  He nodded, not looking up, not speaking. I swallowed the twist in my throat and brushed my palm against his fingers. His skin was warm, soft. “I will get you out of here. I swear it.”

  “Don’t put yourself in danger.”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  “Maggie—” Yahn halted, and he looked beyond me. I spun around. It was only Adelaide.

  “You better come on,” she said softly. “I bought you all the time I could.”

  I looked back to Yahn. My heart burst with so many more things I wanted to say to him. I didn’t want to leave his side. Not yet.

  “Go,” he whispered.

  I searched for the perfect words, the perfect way to give him hope at my parting. But nothing came, and when Adelaide urged me to come even more insistently, I silently obeyed.

  I said nothing until we were back in Álvar’s carriage. Adelaide sat across from me and folded her arms across her chest. Her left eyebrow arched.

  “You gonna explain what just happened?”

  I sighed. My chest still ached from seeing Yahn, but I knew I’d have to explain sooner or later.

  “There’s something you need to know about the night my home was burned.”

  When we showed up at The Desert Rose, both pensive and quiet, I still wasn’t ready to go back to the Hacienda. A part of me longed to tie my apron around my waist and get back to wiping tabletops.

  “Want to stick around for a while?” Adelaide asked as we got out of the carriage.

  “I can’t. I should get back to Ella.” I glanced at the carriage, but the thought of facing Álvar again made my legs go stiff.

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” Adelaide said, sensing my distress. “They’ve got a whole army of nurses over there to look after her. Why don’t you come up and relax for a bit?”

  “Well, maybe just a few minutes.”

  Adelaide smiled at the carriage driver. “You mind waiting around a spell? Havin’ a drink on the house while Miss Davis and I visit?”

  The driver tipped his hat, blushing at her attentions. “Not a bit, señorita. Take all the time you need.”

  I gave Adelaide a wry, sidelong smile as we went into The Desert Rose, arm in arm. Was there no man she couldn’t win over?

  Only one.

  Mr. Connelly was sitting at an empty table near the stairs as we walked in, sharpening his big bowie knife on a wet stone. He didn’t looked up as we passed. A bad sign.

  “Morning,” he said. “Have a good time at the ball, Miss Cinderella?”

  He slowly turned his eyes up to Adelaide, who was still wearing her gown from last night. I noticed a small flame of hatred flicker in her gaze. She smirked and gave him an exaggerated curtsy. “A fine time. Thanks for askin’.”

  Connelly stood with force, his chair falling backward to the floor. Adelaide’s body tensed, but her face still wore a defiant expression.

  “I need rest for the show tonight,” she announced, sweeping toward her room.

  She made it to the hallway at the top of the stairs before Mr. Connelly flew up after her and grabbed her wrist. I rushed toward them, fearing he was going to strike her, but he only growled in her face.

  “What in the hell kind of game do you think you’re playin’?”

  “I was invited to that party,” she said, pulling to
release her arm. “Now let me go, you mangy coyote.”

  He grabbed her face, pressing his fingers into her chin, and pushed her against the wood paneling of her doorway.

  “Mr. Connelly!” I shouted, horrified.

  He ignored me. “You know the rules,” he said, his face in Adelaide’s. “Tell me the rules.”

  “No.”

  He must have tightened his grip even more, because she drew in a sharp, pained breath. I grabbed Connelly’s arm.

  “Let go! She was with me! She was helping me! Let her go!”

  He shoved me off with a flick of his arm, and I crashed into the hallway wall. “You stay out of this,” he snapped.

  By now, some of the other girls had stirred from their rooms, watching from narrow openings in their doors. Connelly pulled Adelaide’s face close to his, so close she could probably feel his spit as he talked.

  “If I see you throwing yourself at that worthless cowboy one more time, I will kick you out of here for good. And if you so much as step foot out of this house again without my permission, I will make sure every door in this town is slammed in your face. Do I make myself clear?”

  She winced, breathing hard.

  “You wanna wind up a two-bit whore at the depot again? ’Cause that’s what would happen if I kicked you out. Hell, you’d probably end up dead in a month. You’re nothing without me. You understand?”

  She wouldn’t look at him. “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Don’t you forget it.”

  Connelly pushed her away, and she stumbled back against the wall. He brushed off his coat briskly, then examined her with a smirk.

  “Nice dress.” His fingers stroked along the neckline of her gown. “You’ll wear it tonight. I have a rancher from El Dorado coming into town on business. He likes to see a well-made woman.”

  Connelly tugged the front of Adelaide’s bodice down, which pressed her bosom up farther. She flinched only slightly.

  “That’s more like it,” he said. “That’s the way a whore oughta look.” Satisfied, he patted her cheek. “Now get in there and freshen up.” He then glared down the hall. “All of ya.”

  Doors clicked shut quickly. Adelaide tried to keep a look of dignity as she turned into her room, but I saw the shine of tears forming in her eyes. I balled my fists, ready to give Mr. Connelly a taste of my rage, when he whirled around.

  “You,” he snarled.

  My resolve cracked a little, though I tried to stand strong. “How dare you treat a lady that way!”

  “Her? A lady?” He laughed.

  “She is, and she deserves to be treated with respect.”

  “I’m not here to talk about this with you. You have no say in the matter. Don’t you dare start putting on airs already.”

  I stiffened. So he knew about my arrangement with Álvar. Mr. Connelly read my expression and snorted with a mixture of amusement and disdain. “Ain’t you a sly little hussy.”

  Hatred coursed through me, but no sharp words came to my rescue.

  “I knew,” he went on. “From the first day I met you. The second you turned down my offer, I knew you had bigger fish to fry. Pretty smart to refuse to be any old whore, with the plan to whore yourself after the source himself.”

  I wanted to slap him. No, worse, I wanted to beat him with a cattle prod. There wasn’t any violence that seemed fitting enough for him at the moment.

  My voice shook slightly as I addressed him. “Not only have you insulted me, sir, but you are most sorely mistaken as to the nature of my understanding with Señor Castilla.”

  He snorted. “That right?”

  “Yes. Señor Castilla has been generous enough to offer room and board to my sister and me. However, his intentions are purely scholarly. I have a special talent with relics, and so he wishes to see me trained.”

  Mr. Connelly barked out a laugh, and I could smell the brandy on his foul breath. “And you believed that?”

  “Just because you are low and base doesn’t mean every man is.”

  Connelly shook his head, still laughing. “Well, if that doesn’t take the cake. You’re gonna whore yourself out, and you don’t even know it yet.”

  My face was hot, my fists so tight I could barely feel any blood flowing through them. “I’m not going to be any kind of whore.”

  “Sure,” he said, smirking. “Speaking of which, what the hell are you doing here? Get on back to the Hacienda. Álvar must be looking for you.” His brow arched up suggestively, and once again I had to restrain myself from lashing out at him. Grinding my teeth, I turned away.

  But then a threat trembled inside of me along with the rage. I shot a look over my shoulder. “You’re not the only one with the ear of Álvar Castilla now. If I were you, I’d be a little more careful how you treated me.”

  Exhilarated and mildly shocked by my own boldness, I started to walk away. But Mr. Connelly grabbed my arm and spun me around hard. His face was even redder in his rage.

  “Why, you little…” He clenched his jaw, trying to calm his breath, and released his grip. I backed away, my heart pounding in my chest.

  Mr. Connelly pointed a tense finger. “I’m onto you. Oh, yes, ma’am, I am. You think you’re pretty smart. You think you can play Castilla for a fool.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t play dumb. I know you’ve been messin’ around with that cowboy.”

  I froze, and a satisfied smile crossed Connelly’s face. “And we can’t have that, now can we? Protégée or conquest, either way, you’re accepting a meal ticket from Álvar Castilla, and so you have to play by his rules.”

  “We’re just friends,” I said, my voice weaker than I wanted it to be.

  “Not anymore, you ain’t. I don’t want to see you so much as breathe near that buck. And I’ve got eyes everywhere, so don’t think your being up there at the Hacienda will hide it. I’m gonna be watching like a hawk. Waiting for you to slip up, ’cause I know you will. And when you do…” He snapped his fingers once. “Just like that, you’ll be mine.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  My heart quivered as I reentered the Hacienda. It took me half the day to work up the courage to go back. If Ella hadn’t been there, I probably wouldn’t have gone at all. With trembling legs, I stepped out of the carriage in the main courtyard.

  A neatly dressed maid waited for me, her hands folded primly in front. “Señorita,” she said, curtsying.

  “Maggie. Just call me Maggie.”

  Her eyes shifted at the suggestion, but she said nothing of it. “I am to show you to your new quarters, if it pleases you.”

  A warning shot off in my heart. “New quarters?”

  “Why yes, miss. Señor Castilla has requested you be moved to one of the larger suites in the Hacienda.”

  “Where’s my sister?” I asked, trying to appear calm. “I’d like to see my sister.”

  “I would assume she’s in your suite.”

  She turned without any further explanation and headed toward the grand, gleaming spectacle of the main house. I’d hoped for a more discreet entrance, but the Hacienda grounds bustled with people and life.

  Servants came and went, carrying baskets of clean laundry, bundles of dried chili peppers, and bolts of expensive green silks. To my right, three stable workers trained a shining black mare in the corral, calling orders to her in Spanish as they led her over a wooden jump. From her speed and the spectacular height of her leaps, I reckoned she was a sky steed, a rare equine breed descended from the ancient Pegasus. They were rare and very expensive, so I shouldn’t have been surprised that Álvar owned one.

  A group of well-dressed Haciendos watched the progress of the sky steed and discussed intently. The Haciendellas accompanying them stood chatting in the shade of the massive oak, their colorful parasols spread for decorative purposes only.

  I followed close behind the maid, keenly aware of all the watchful eyes. But
no one seemed shocked at my presence. Word had probably gotten around. The knowledge made my stomach churn.

  My new quarters were located on the far west side of the house, tucked into the end of a long maze of carpeted hallways. The gaudy suite was lit with ornate glass lanterns and wide windows draped in airy curtains. Real wallpaper hung on the walls, with dark wood paneling. A silk comforter was flung lavishly over the bed, and a fresh bouquet of roses waited in a vase on the vanity.

  “Are the accommodations satisfactory to you, miss?”

  “It’s beautiful,” I said, dazed. I stepped into the room, looking around. “What about my sister?”

  “Here is where she will sleep,” the maid said, motioning to a doorway toward the back of the suite. “This room was originally designed for the ill or elderly. That connected sleeping room could be used for a nurse to be in close proximity. The señor thought it would be pleasing for you to have your sister as close as possible.”

  “Yes,” I said, surprised at his thoughtfulness. “That’s perfect.” I looked into the little room, but it was empty. “Where’s Ella?”

  “I am not sure, miss. Perhaps with the nurses?” The maid curtsied again. “I am to help you dress now.”

  I glanced down at my maroon work frock from The Desert Rose. “I’m already dressed.”

  The maid’s eyes flicked to the massive armoire wardrobe that stood in the corner of the room. Hesitant, I moved toward it. The doors, made of glossy, polished cherry wood, swung open smoothly. As the light fell on the inside, I gasped.

  Dresses. At least two dozen of them. They hung in a thick row inside the wardrobe like an expensive rainbow. Rich fabrics and ribbons and lace in every color imaginable. Bewildered, I pulled one down. It was black velvet with white satin ribbons and intricate beading. The neckline scooped deep, trimmed with thin lace. I held the gown up to me. It was my size.

  “Señor Castilla wishes to see his guests dressed in only the finest, miss.”

  I shut the doors of the wardrobe, Mr. Connelly’s mocking words ringing in my ears. Gritting my teeth, I pulled open every drawer of the bureau. Each one overflowed with fine handkerchiefs and pristine lace underclothes.