The Heart of Mary: A Thorn Novel

by Brandy Golden

  He took another drag on the cigarette. It had been plain luck when that Thorn fella and his friend had left Potluck. Now he could move around easier. Sheriff Holden was no fool, though; he'd have to be careful.

  Something was niggling at him, though, something he hadn't been able to put his finger on. Something one of the whores at the Silver Slipper had said, earlier today. He had asked to talk to Fanny and the one named Elsa had said she had gone shopping. Said she even had so much shopping, she was taking a young man with her to carry parcels. It hadn't made sense at the time, because most of the businesses were closed until just before supper, because of the heat. And then there had been giggling and winking at each other when Elsa told the other girls that Fanny had returned with only one parcel, a new hat. He had filed the thought away in passing, but now, he took it out and studied it carefully in his mind.

  "Damn," he swore softly to the night air. "That wasn't a young man, that was the girl!"

  He started urgently pacing the floor, his mind thinking quickly. So Mace had been right all along, Fanny had been hiding the girl—or knew who was. But where had she taken her? And how was he supposed to get next to Fanny to find out, when she was being guarded so closely? And why prepare an elaborate lie about going shopping? He snapped his fingers and a gloating grin slid across his face.

  Because it was actually the shopkeeper who had been hiding the girl! Now then—who owned a milliner's shop in Potluck? The grin became broader. Why, none other than Thorn's lady friend, Clary Worthington, also Boxcar's sister! Those two government men taking over for Sheriff Holden.

  How damned convenient! Especially, since those two were now on their way to El Paso.

  Cursing again under his breath, he left the hotel room and headed out into the night.

  Nelson and Charlie were doing their rounds again, Charlie cursing Holden as a slave driver.

  Nelson chuckled. "Uncle Abe takes his job seriously, even if he is banged up," he replied. "You can't blame him for that; it's what makes him such a good lawman."

  "I know, I know. It's also close to midnight, the fuckin' fool's hour, as he calls it," Charlie grumbled, shaking his head.

  Nelson's shoulders shook, his laughter erupting into the night air. "That's Uncle Abe, all right!" He clapped Charlie on the shoulder. "He's always said that by midnight, an evil man is either screwing his whore or up to no good, and that's the best time to catch him!"

  Charlie grinned. "Yep."

  "Well, you'd best listen to him, if you want to be a good lawman, Charlie. Uncle Abe may be a rascal but he knows his stuff."

  "I know, I know—it's just that it all seems so quiet, right now."

  "Doesn't mean it'll stay that way."

  Charlie heard it first, and he put his arm out to block Nelson. "Hold up—I hear something," he hissed.

  Nelson cocked his head. "Yeah, I hear it too—sounds like it's coming from between the dress shop and the general store. You stay on this side, and I'll get the other side." He pulled his gun and crouched low before sliding across the open area then peered around the side of the building. He motioned Charlie to look, too, and they both saw the man at the top of the stairs, attempting to get into the flat.

  "Hold it right there," yelled Charlie, stepping into the light and pointing his pistol at the man just as the doorjamb splintered under a heavy boot.

  The man fired at Charlie, and Nelson stepped out and fired back, two shots into the body. It fell as if in slow motion, then tumbled down the long steps. A woman stepped out, holding a rifle.

  "Clary, it's us," yelled Charlie, holding his forehead where a bullet had grazed him.

  They both rushed up the stairs, Nelson stopping to check the man's throat. He was dead. At the top of the stairs, Clary stood trembling in her long nightdress.

  "Charlie, you're hurt," she exclaimed.

  Charlie blushed. "It's just a scratch, ma'am—just grazed me." Nelson came up the stairs behind him. "This is Nelson Anderson, he's been helping keep an eye on things since Thorn and Boxcar had to go to El Paso."

  Clary nodded. "Yes, Thorn told me this afternoon he was leaving. I'm sorry we are meeting under such indigent circumstances, Mr. Anderson."

  Nelson swept off his hat, his blond curls springing forward. "Call me Nelson. And don't worry, ma'am, this man won't be bothering you again, he's dead," he said grimly. "Do you know him? Or have any idea why he would be breaking into your home?"

  "I-I'm sorry, I have no idea, and I don't know him," she replied in a shaky voice.

  "Do you have some place you can stay tonight until this door can be fixed? Me and Charlie can board it up for you after you get dressed and get a few things."

  Clary nodded. "Yes, I can go to Tilly's, above the Chuparosa diner. Just let me get ready, I'll only be a few moments."

  "Yes, I know Tilly," he replied with a grin. We usually have some supper when I'm in town."

  When Clary had gone inside, Nelson went down to search the dead man's body. "You sure got sharp hearing, Charlie, that was a good call on your part." His searching fingers found something in the man's pants pocket, and he frowned. "Say, Charlie, didn't that drover at the saloon say he had some gold coins stolen from his room in the hotel?"

  Charlie came down the take one of the coins out of Nelson's fingers. "He sure did—you think these might be them?"

  "I don't know, but we can ask him. They look sort of special to me. Here, you better take them, since you're the law." He grinned at the younger man.

  Charlie looked puzzled. "Wonder why he was trying to break into Clary's place?"

  Nelson shrugged his broad shoulders. "Who knows? Does Clary live alone? If so, maybe he thought she might have some money in the house since she owns the dress shop."

  Back at the sheriff's office, Nelson's keen gaze sought his uncle's. "You want to fill me in on what's going on, Uncle Abe? I know you said men were looking for this whore from El Paso, but why would they break into Clary's place?"

  Holden cursed under his breath. Finally, he shook his head. "We left you and Charlie out of the loop because we figured the less people who knew what was going on, the better and safer it would be for the girl."

  Nelson scratched his head. "Are you saying the whore is here, and Clary is keeping her?"

  "I reckon it's not going to hurt anything now for you and Charlie to know. The girl was here, but she's not any longer. Clary found her hiding in her shop this morning. Thorn took her to El Paso with him this afternoon when they left."

  "Why all this secrecy over a whore who shot and killed a man in a whorehouse?"

  "Because the girl's not a whore—she's Frank Ventermin's daughter, and he wants her back. But there is more than one group of people looking for her." He hesitated a moment. "You're not going to like this, Nelson, and I know it brings up bad memories for you. But we have reason to believe the girl may be connected to the Heart of Mary ruby, somehow, and that's why those killers want her. And her stepfather may even know, too, and that's why he wants her back. We don't have all the facts at this point, and Mary isn't talking much."

  "You talking about Frank Ventermin of The Tarnished Rose?"

  Nelson's mouth drooped in an uncharacteristic grim look for him. "Frank Ventermin is a fool, and it sounds like he's gotten himself into something that's out of his league."

  Holden nodded. "Frank's a fool all right; he tried to sell his daughter to a customer for a large sum of money. They say Mary killed the man in self-defense and ran off. Now, suddenly, there seems to be more than Frank wanting her back. Or maybe Frank's behind it all, we don't know. Mary totally refused to go back, said Frank isn't her father and that he never married her mother. She wanted Thorn to take her to see the governor, but she wouldn't say why. Then, when we found out that her mother is still alive, Mary agreed to go back. Thorn will sort out the killing and the stepfather issues when they get there."

  Nelson frowned. "So where does the ruby fit into all this?"

  "Boxcar found a slip of pa
per on the man we arrested last night, in the brim of his hat. The only words on the paper were The Heart of Mary—like the damned fool couldn't remember it unless he wrote it down."

  Nelson ran his fingers through his blond curls in exasperation."

  So, if the man Frank's men brought in today is the partner of your corpse, then you can chalk up two more deaths to that cursed ruby! When is the killing going to end?"

  "Told you that you wouldn't like it."

  Nelson rammed his hat back on his head and stood up. "No, I don't like it. I like it even less that the man I shot tonight might be yet another notch in the ruby's belt."

  "Where's Charlie? Shouldn't he back by now?" Holden asked suddenly. "He was just going to escort Clary over to Tilly's'."

  "Damn, you're right! I better go looking for him. I don't want anything to happen to that kid, I like him."

  Nelson slammed the door behind him and went straight to Tilly's. He quickly spotted Charlie at the top of the stairs to Tilly's flat, talking to the two women. He bounded up the stairs. "What are you still doing here, Deputy? You should have been back to the office by now." He smiled at Tilly and took off his hat.

  Charlie flushed. "I-I was just making sure the girls were okay," he stammered.

  "I think they're fine," he responded dryly. He turned to Tilly and Clary. "We'll keep an extra watch on your place tonight, though, Tilly, just to make sure you both stay safe."

  Tilly smiled sweetly up at him. "Why, thank you, kind sir. We surely do appreciate it."

  "Yes, thank you both," added Clary with a grimace. "You saved me from having to shoot that man myself. If he had made it through the door, I would have."

  Nelson chuckled. "I can see you're a force to be reckoned with," he responded. "That makes us feel a little better, right, Charlie?"

  "Hey, I'm no slacker, you know," protested Tilly. "I can handle a rifle just as well as Clary."

  Nelson took her hand and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I do know that, quite well, in fact." His eyes danced down at her. "Until tomorrow, sweet lady. I wish both of you pleasant dreams."

  Tilly chuckled as the men made their way down the stairs. "That man is almost as much of a charmer as your brother, Clary." She locked the door and bolted it behind them.

  "You know him well?" asked Clary curiously. She took a seat on the settee. She wouldn't be able to rest for a while now, too much excitement.

  "I know him," admitted Tilly. "He comes to town a couple of times a year, sometimes more. We always have a meal together when he's here. He works for the Santa Fe Diocese and does some investigating for them. He investigates for other people as well, though, not just them."

  "So Boxcar has some competition, then," teased Clary.

  Tilly's rich laughter rang out. "Indeed, he does," she replied with a wink and then changed the subject. "Would you like some tea since we are up?" When Clary nodded, she got up and went into the kitchen, Clary following her. She sighed mentally. Clary was a very curious person, and she didn't mind telling her all about herself, she just drew the line at her brother. If she were to tell Clary how she felt about Boxcar, Clary would immediately tell her brother, and she didn't want that.

  Tilly knew she was in love with Thaddeus Paul Worthington, but love wasn't enough. She needed him to know her—to know what she needed. Her dead husband, Stephen, had always told her she needed spanking on a regular basis. He swore she did little aggravating things so he would spank her for it, and then they would have fantastic sex. But she had fantastic sex with Boxcar without being punished. True, he did spank her, but it was for both their pleasure and never for punishment. So why did it feel like something wasn't quite right?

  Stephen had been blond, like Nelson. A giant, laughing man, who knew her innermost desires without being told. She never had to admit to Stephen she might need or want to be spanked, he just knew.

  Sometimes, she hated herself because she wanted to tell Boxcar about her needs, but then she couldn't. She was intensely stubborn. She even went out of her way to never forget little things like she had with Steven, just so she wouldn't have to feel like she was telling him what she wanted. She was an almost perfect lady. Yet she had never been the perfect lady with Stephen, and, sometimes, she thought he was exaggerating her needs as he put it. Sometimes, she downright hated it when he spanked her. It had become more confusing lately, and she wasn't sure why.

  She blamed it on Boxcar's job, he was never around enough to notice if she forgot to put the pies away, or let the milk spoil, or to do the little chores that needed doing every day. And in being honest with herself, she had to admit that she was glad their relationship was developing so slowly. She didn't want to make a commitment to marriage and family yet. She had never told anyone that she had been pregnant when the Indians killed Stephen. Only the doctor had known that she had miscarried. At four months along, the baby hadn't been developed enough to live. Occasionally, she would take flowers to the grave in the town cemetery where Stephen and his son were buried. It was one of the reasons she hadn't left Potluck and returned to Virginia to seek out her father, although her father didn't want her back, anyway. Tilly couldn't bear the thought of Stephen and Gray alone, with no one to remember them.

  The teakettle whistled, and she came out of her reverie with a start. Sighing, she took the teakettle off the stove and poured the steaming hot water slowly through the tea and strainer cloth. Her thoughts returned to Boxcar. He was so good at reading people in his job, how was it that he couldn't seem to figure her out? She guessed she couldn't really blame him, when she couldn't even figure herself out. Today, she had really wanted to push his buttons, for some reason. She had tried to make him jealous, but even that didn't seem to bother him. Maybe he just didn't love her enough to punish her for it. Why did he allow it?

  He was always so easygoing and charming; he never got upset. Of course, she had told him repeatedly she wasn't ready for a commitment, and he had always agreed that he wasn't ready, either.

  But why didn't the darned man ever get jealous? Was it because he just didn't love her enough? That must be it—he just didn't love her enough! The thought made her eyes water and her heart hurt. Why hadn't she seen it before? Boxcar didn't love her! And if he didn't love her enough to be jealous, then he must just be dallying with her like he did other women. She had tried not to be jealous of other women she knew he flirted with, but she was lying when she told him she wasn't. An open relationship, that's what they had. She had convinced herself that this was best until such a time as Boxcar opened his eyes, but suddenly, she didn't like it anymore!

  Chapter Eight

  Thorn stared into the dancing campfire flames, thinking of the locket with the nuns' pictures in it. Was it really that simple? If so, why had no one ever solved the mystery of the ruby before this? The smoke from his cigarette spiraled above him. He really needed to quit this habit, but it did help him concentrate.

  "What are you thinking on so hard, old buddy?" Boxcar dropped to the rock near Thorn, his cup of coffee in his hand.

  Thorn glanced over at Mary, who was rolled up in a bedroll with the blanket over her head. He doubted she was actually asleep so he kept his voice down. "Just wondering how no one has ever solved this before, if the answer is in the locket."

  "You know what they say about hiding in plain sight," remarked Boxcar. "Maria Vargis is one smart lady if she's kept that secret all these years. Besides, all we really know from the locket is that she was a nun at one time and had a friend who was a nun. If you didn't know what you do now, would you think anything of it?"

  "Okay, so what do we know that any other detective worth his salt wouldn't be able to find out?"

  "We know about the locket. I doubt anyone else does or they would have stolen it already," insisted Boxcar. "What we don't know is the result of previous investigations. All we have is the locket."

  Thorn snorted and tossed another stick into the fire. "We're going in circles there. No, somehow, Mary is the key to th
e mystery. If she is supposed to go to the governor and tell him something, then what is she supposed to say that will reveal the mystery?"

  "I'm supposed to tell him that the Heart of Mary belongs to me."

  Both men looked up to see Mary sitting up in her bedroll, her eyes huge in the firelight. "My mama named me after the ruby. She said my papa wanted me to have it."

  Thorn gazed at her considering her earnest words. "That's it?" he finally asked. "Nothing else?"

  She came over to the fire and sat down beside Boxcar. She shivered and held her hands out to the warmth of the flames. "I've been thinking, and I figured you might as well know. Since you work for the governor, he will probably just ask you to investigate it for him. Isn't that what you do?"

  "Smart girl, Mary," replied Boxcar, putting his arm around her shoulders for a light hug. "So what else has your ma said to you about the ruby?"

  "Not much," she confessed. "All she told me about was my father, not where the ruby is hidden." She picked up the locket hanging on the chain and stared into it. "She said this was the key, and the governor would know what to do, once I gave it to him." Tears pooled in her beautiful eyes. "She said she didn't want me to know anything else because it would put me in danger and that I was never to tell anyone but the governor that this locket was the key and that the ruby was for me."

  "Did Ventermin know this? Did she tell him?" asked Thorn.

  She shook her head vehemently. "No, Senor Thorn, she said he was never to know! She said he was a greedy and weak man and that if he knew, he would take the ruby away from me. That is why she never married him, so he could never get his hands on my inheritance."

  Boxcar took one of her hands and patted it gently. "When did she tell you about this, Mary?"

  "On my eighteenth birthday. She said it was time I knew, because she had a bad feeling about the future." She hung her head and softly whispered, "I guess she was right."