"Don't worry, this isn't over yet. At least your mama is still alive."
Mary nodded eagerly then. "Si, maybe I won't have to visit the governor for a while then. And when I'm twenty-one, maybe we can go together to get my inheritance."
"Maybe so," agreed Boxcar with a smile. "But for now, you better get some sleep. We want to be out of here at first light."
They watched her get back into the bedroll and turn over to sleep.
"So if Mary isn't the key, what are you thinking now, old buddy?" asked Boxcar softly.
"How do you know I'm thinking anything?"
Boxcar smirked. "Because that's what you do. So let's hear it."
"Well," began Thorn softly, keeping an eye on the bundle across the fire. "First of all, I'm thinking that this Anna Martinez may have died in the mission fire."
"I can see that, it makes sense. Maria told Mary that her friend died in a fire, and it looks like they were both nuns. So chances are it was the mission fire."
"I'm thinking we need to investigate this Anna person. She obviously has something to do with it or her picture wouldn't be in the locket." Thorn's eyes gleamed in the dancing shadows from the fire. "If you wanted to hide something valuable where no one would ever come across it or be able to track it, where would you hide it?"
"First of all, I wouldn't carry it with me," said Boxcar slowly, pondering the question. "Especially in a case like this, where someone might come looking for it, thinking I might have taken it. I also wouldn't put it in a bank because it could be robbed. If I wanted to have it for my future child, I would want to put it someplace where it would never move, no matter how many times I moved."
"Agreed, but remember this Anna Martinez is dead. So it stands to reason that she wouldn't have it. Nor could you question her about where it might be."
"Nope, she has taken her secrets to the grave."
"So if she's a dead end, how can she be the key?" Thorn asked speculatively. "Something else that's bothering me—how come no one has come looking for Maria in all these years? People have died looking for the ruby, yet no one has found Maria before this. The Diocese has hired some of the best detectives available and, still, no one has found her. Why is that?"
Boxcar snapped his fingers. "Because they aren't looking for her."
"Exactly," crowed Thorn triumphantly. "Which also means her name probably isn't really Maria Vargis."It's a name she took when she left the mission.
"Not only that," added Boxcar. "But if they were looking for her, a whorehouse would be the last place they would look for a nun or an ex nun, don't you think? Which explains why Maria stayed with Frank all these years. She felt safe there."
"Mmm...it became a matter of which was worse, Frank slapping her around now and then, or someone taking away Mary's inheritance."
Boxcar scratched his head. "But now someone may have found her. The person who hired those men to bust up Fanny's place."
"So who hired them, I wonder? Which brings us back to square one and, so far, it all points to Frank Ventermin."
"Maybe," replied Boxcar thoughtfully."But I don't see Ventermin as someone who would hire professional killers. He's too much of a coward. He may be smart enough to run a business, but I don't see him as a schemer. Especially, since Mary just told us that he knew nothing about the ruby."
Thorn snorted. "Never underestimate the power of greed, Boxcar. You should know that by now."
"Anyway, getting back to Maria, how is she supposed to prove that Mary is Father Benedict's daughter?"
Thorn tossed his cigarette butt into the fire. "That's where the governor comes in. With something as valuable as that ruby and with the church laying claim to it, who's going to listen to a woman from a whorehouse? She will need someone to verify it for her, someone whose word is law. Mary's looks alone won't do it. She must have some other proof stashed away somewhere, probably with the ruby that will prove Mary's heritage. Or else an awful lot of money to hire a good lawyer and risk the chance that they would lose the suit. No, I think the governor would be her best bet. And she knows that."
Boxcar nodded. "I remember the case where that fellow was trying to prove his wife is the long lost heir of thousands of acres of land in the territories because he found some old documents showing where a Spanish land baron had bought it back in the 1600s. It's been under investigation for years now."
Thorn stretched and yawned. "My head hurts from thinking, time for bed. Maybe we'll find out more after we get to El Paso tomorrow."
"You work too hard at it, old buddy," replied Boxcar with a grin. "You always were too serious. I don't know how Clary puts up with you."
"Mind your own business," growled Thorn. "At least my love life is running smoothly at the moment. I can't say the same for yours!"
"It won't be so smooth if Dad catches up with you," retorted Boxcar, setting up his bedroll against his saddle. "He's still griping because he hasn't heard anything from you. He told me, he might be coming out here one of these days to straighten you out and take Clary home."
Thorn shot him a smug look as he lay back on his bedroll. "He can't do either of those things. Clary won't go, and he can't make me do anything I don't want to, either."
"Ha! You know my dad, he doesn't know the meaning of can't. If you're smart, you'll at least write him back. Otherwise, you may be looking down the muzzle of a shotgun some day."
"Not a chance!" Thorn slid his Stetson down over his face, effectively shutting Boxcar out, but he knew his lifetime friend wasn't wrong. He felt a twinge in his ass every time he remembered Mr. Worthington catching him and Boxcar stealing apples from the neighbor's orchard and chucking them at the man's hogs.
God, but those animals stink when they are raised in any quantity over three! Boxcar's father had made them both drop their pants and bend over the fence while he applied his heavy belt liberally to both their backsides—on their split open long johns—in front of the neighbor!
It had been a humiliating and embarrassing experience for two young men who had been quite cocky in their youth. And then he had dragged both of them by the ear back home while explaining how important it was to respect your neighbors—and where in the hell did they think their bacon and sausage came from? When Thorn had finally limped home and told his dad, Paddington Thorn, the first, had dragged him out to the woodshed and taught him the same lesson, all over again. He had eaten his supper standing up that night and felt that same lesson for days. He wasn't a callow youth anymore, though, so why did the thought of Clary's father make him uneasy? He guessed it was leftover from past experience.
Maybe writing him wouldn't be a bad idea, after all.
Sheriff Cole Hamden handed Thorn and Boxcar a cup of coffee and two telegrams and then took his own seat behind his desk. "Yes, Maria Vargis is alive, at the moment, but Doc Martin isn't sure she's going to make it. Or if she does, she won't be a whole woman in her mind. Frank beat her up pretty bad." He took a sip of his coffee and picked at the remains of a bowl of wilted greens with vinegar. "And I've had the dead man's brother in here, demanding the money back that Ivan Skinner took with him to The Tarnished Rose the night he was killed. Frank insists that the money was for a business transaction and it's non-refundable. He ain't giving it back."
Thorn nodded, taking a sip of his own coffee. "And he says that Mary shot this Ivan Skinner? We heard a man was shot and robbed."
Sheriff Hamden shook his head. "Not robbed, just shot. Frank says Mary shot him, but he doesn't know why. He's lying about not knowing why, of course."
"The man was shot because Frank sold Mary to him for a night," broke in Boxcar angrily. "And we don't believe Mary was the one who shot him."
"So you've talked to Mary?" Hamden asked swiftly.
Thorn nodded. "Yes, we have. I'd believe Mary over Frank Ventermin, any day."
"Well, I need to talk to Mary. I've got to take her into custody and question her."
Thorn shook his head. "We can't do that, Cole, Mary's in danger. We can't put
her in a position for Frank to get his hands on her. Or anyone else, for that matter."
Cole leaned back in his chair and studied his friends with shrewd green eyes. He fanned his face with his brown Stetson, his damp light brown hair streaked with gray lifting slightly off his forehead. "Are you saying that your government job is trumping my job as sheriff?" he asked carefully.
Thorn nodded. "In this case, yes. The governor happens to be involved in this one, and there is some confidential information involved that I can't share with you just yet. I'm asking you to trust me and work with me."
Cole finally nodded. "All right then, my young friend, what do want me to do?"
Thorn glanced at the telegrams and then handed them to Boxcar with a frown. He ran his hands through his hair and swore softly, his forehead furrowed with worry. Clary's place had been broken into. How in the hell had anyone known she was involved? They had been so careful!
Thank God, they had taken Mary with them and Nelson and Charlie had been on watch. It frustrated him to know Clary was out of reach of his protection, and he still wasn't one hundred percent sure of Nelson. It was the biggest reason he never wanted Clary involved in any of his cases. The risk of losing her was too high. His gut rolled in turmoil, his body tense as he tried to put his worry aside and concentrate on the present. There was nothing he could do about Clary right now.
Boxcar read the telegrams and put them in his pocket with a worried look on his face. He glanced uneasily at Thorn, their eyes meeting in mutual understanding. Concentrate on the here and now.
"The first thing we need you to do is find out if Frank Ventermin is really married to Maria Vargis," instructed Thorn. "Mary says he isn't, and he says he is. I need to know the truth of it, because Mary is underage for another three years, and I don't want to release her back into his custody. And if he is, I need to find out how, short of killing him, we can make that go away so she never has to be afraid of him again."
"I wouldn't rule out killing," murmured Boxcar softly. "That man will never have control over Mary again, not if I can help it."
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that, Boxcar," said Cole, his eyes twinkling. "But if Mary is in danger from the man, then, yes, we can keep her away from him if she can prove it."
"Does selling her against her will to a sick child molester prove it?"
"Is that what Mary said?" Cole sighed. "You can't go around making accusations like that, Boxcar," he retorted. "As far as I know, Frank has always taken care of Mary and Maria. The dead man can't talk, Maria can't tell us what happened, and Frank says Mary shot the man. We would only have Mary's word for it—against Frank's."
"Which brings us back to Maria. We think she might be in danger from Frank," said Thorn, interrupting.
Cole frowned "I may not know the whole story, but one thing I do know—Frank isn't going to hurt Maria. In spite of his slapping her around, he loves her. He's barely left her side since he beat her up. He mopes around like a dog that lost its bone, and I don't think it's faked. Neither does Doc Martin."
It was Boxcar's turn to interrupt. "You said Doc's place had been broken into in your telegram. What's that all about?"
"Well—yeah. That was the strangest thing. Someone broke in and went through all Doc's papers and files. Left the medicines completely alone. Doc says he has no clue what they might have been looking for, but I'm not sure he's telling me the whole truth, either. How you supposed to help people when they lie to you?" he asked in exasperation.
Thorn glanced at Boxcar, his eyes gleaming, and then leaned forward. "Cole, have you ever seen a man around town wearing a red brocade vest with fancy clothes?"
Cole rubbed his chin. "Now that you mention it, yes, I have. Saw him and another fancy dressed fella talking to Frank inside The Tarnished Rose last week. I just figured they were customers, 'cause Frank sent them upstairs with a couple of girls." He grinned. "It's not every day that you see genuine alligator boots, though. The fella with the red vest had them on."
"Did you see them talking to anyone else besides Frank?" asked Boxcar, his voice strained.
"Nope. Only saw them the one time. Why? Are they important?"
"Yes," growled Thorn. "Those two busted up Fanny's place in Potluck and disabled Sheriff Holden for a while. Unfortunately, they are both dead now, before anyone could question them."
Boxcar stood up. "If you saw them talking to Frank, then the chances are Frank is behind all of this, and he's the one who sent them to Potluck after Mary," he declared. "We need to talk to Maria Vargis." He turned and headed out the door.
Cole jumped up. "I'll go with you boys, just to make sure Frank doesn't give you any trouble."
As Boxcar stepped into The Tarnished Rose, he was met by Fife, Frank's head girl. "Boxcar, darling," she gushed. "Where have you been lately? Haven't seen you for weeks." She ran her painted nails up his forearm, the feather in the back of her burnished dark hair waving gently.
Boxcar grinned lazily at the young woman. "We need to speak with Frank, Fife. Do you know where he is?"
"Pah! Same place he always is—in Maria's room! He's hardly left the room since since he beat her up."
"Where is that, Fife?" He disengaged her hand from his arm. Point the way, please."
"She has her own living quarters behind the kitchen," she said, her lips in a pout. "But what do you want with her?"
Boxcar winked at her. "It's business, darlin'," he drawled. "Now be a good girl and leave us be." He turned her around and patted her backside, gently shooing her out of their way.
"Humph," she replied, folding her arms and watching them go. She wrapped her feather boa around her neck and stalked off.
"Is there any whore you don't know by name, anywhere?" Thorn grumbled in his ear as they made their way through the kitchen where someone was preparing food. The aroma of frying chicken made his stomach growl. "No wonder Tilly won't commit to you."
"Mind your own business," snapped Boxcar.
Thorn chuckled.
They came into a very small living room area, and Cole stopped. There were three doors, and the one that stood open looked like an indoor privy, which meant the other two doors were probably Maria's and Mary's bedrooms. He opted for calling out, "Frank! It's me, Sheriff Hamden, got some men here that need a word with you."
One of the doors opened, and Frank Ventermin stood there, looking very annoyed and bedraggled. There were heavy shadows under his eyes, and he looked as if he hadn't slept for a week. "What do you want now, Sheriff, can't you see I'm busy? Doc's here to look at Maria again."
Thorn motioned to the older man behind Frank. "Doc, can we talk to you, too?"
Doc Martin nodded and walked out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.
"What's this about, Sheriff?" whined Frank, looking nervous. "Have you found Mary yet?" He stared at the badge that said Sheriff on Thorn's shirt. "What town are you the sheriff of?" he asked nervously.
"I'm the acting Sheriff of Potluck," replied Thorn, noting the nervous perspiration that suddenly beaded on the man's forehead. "And yes, we have talked to Mary. However, your stories don't match up."
"That doesn't matter," blustered Frank, taking his handkerchief out and mopping his face with it. "The girl is under age, and I'm her father, she needs to be brought home."
"What kind of a father sells his daughter to the highest bidder?" sneered Boxcar. "Besides, she tells us you're not her father, and I'm inclined to believe her."
"Well—no, I'm not her real father, but I'm her stepfather," he insisted. "And that's just poppycock! I demand you turn her over to me."
Doc Martin burst in. "Frank, you know that's not true. You and Maria were never married, and Mary isn't your stepdaughter." His eyes were blazing. "And if Mary said you sold her, then I believe that was the business deal you spoke of! No wonder she shot the man and ran off, I don't blame her!"
Thorn stared coldly at Frank. "I don't believe Mary shot that man. I think that's another one of your lies." He
stepped forward into Frank's face. "Selling a woman without her consent, especially a young girl like Mary, is enough to get you closed down, Ventermin. Now I want the truth! And so help me, if you lie to me, I'll have the governor shut you down and put you in jail."
Frank's face crumpled under the accusing stares of the four men, and he began to sob like a baby. "All right, all right, I'm not married to Maria. But I love her! I didn't mean to hurt her like that, I just got so mad when she shot that man that I saw red for a minute." He wrung his hands, his slick black hair sliding across one weeping eye. "Please, I need my business to take care of Maria. She might never be the same, but I love her and I won't abandon her! And despite what you believe, I love Mary, too!"
"So that's why you sent the man in the red brocade vest and his partner after Mary? Because you love her?" Thorn snarled the questions at the shaking man. "You sent those killers after a young girl like that?"
Frank just stared at Thorn in surprise. "W-what? What man with a red vest? I don't know any man with a red vest. I sent Henry and Bill to find her, but they haven't returned yet. I've been praying they find her unharmed. I should never have done that to her, but I was desperate for money. I just hope she can forgive me." He sank to the settee, his long skinny legs out in front of him as he mopped his face and blew his nose. "My poor Maria," he muttered. "My poor Maria."
"So why did you say Mary shot that man?" asked Boxcar, trying to get the whole story.
Frank looked up and focused on Boxcar. "Because I didn't want Maria to be blamed, of course," he replied, his eyes glazing over. "I can't allow my Maria to go to jail."
Doc Martin looked at Frank with complete disgust. "You don't deserve a woman like Maria. Why she has stuck by you all these years, I can't fathom. She'd be better off never waking up, than to come back to this."
Thorn and Boxcar glanced at each other. "You thinking what I'm thinking, old buddy?" asked Boxcar quietly.
"I'm right there with you," replied Thorn. "We need to talk to Doc without Frank around." He cleared his throat and pulled the doctor away from Frank's hearing.
"What is it?" asked Doc, looking perplexed.
The Heart of Mary: A Thorn Novel Page 10
