The Heart of Mary: A Thorn Novel

by Brandy Golden

  Once on the landing, Thorn went right instead of left. They had been registered in 3B on the left. Boxcar was supposed to have moved to an empty room on the right. His gun still drawn, he tread lightly on the carpet and then tapped the butt of his gun on the door of 3A three times. It opened a crack, and a gun barrel came through the opening. A brown eye appeared above it and then the door swung open. Noting Thorn had his pistol drawn, Boxcar silently motioned them in.

  "You heard anything?" asked Thorn. Mary was asleep on the bed, and Sheriff Hamden stood at the side of the window, looking out over the back alleyway to the hotel.

  Boxcar shook his head. "Nothing."

  "Ventermin's dead," growled Thorn in a low voice. "The deputy here was tricked into leaving the jail, and someone killed him while he was gone. Couldn't have been more than a half hour ago."

  The young deputy stared admiringly at Boxcar. "Good trick—moving to another room."

  Boxcar holstered his gun. "You think he's coming for Mary next?"

  "I'm sure he wants Mary," Thorn replied. He quickly filled them all in. They stiffened when they heard a knock on the door down the hallway. Drawing his gun again, Thorn cracked the door and looked down the hallway to see Doris standing there with a young boy. He whistled, and they came down to meet him, Doris looking confused.

  Eddie was fidgeting as Thorn stepped outside to talk to the boy. He didn't want him inside, in case someone tried to question him later. "So, you're Eddie, right?"

  "Umh...yes, sir!" His big brown eyes looked apprehensive.

  "Did a man pay you to play a trick on the deputy?" Thorn asked calmly. The boy didn't look over ten years old, and he didn't want to scare him.

  "Yes, sir," replied Eddie eagerly, his cowlick in his dark hair standing straight up as he vigorously nodded his head. "He paid me one whole Morgan silver dollar, can you believe that?" His eyes were shining. "He said it was just for fun, 'cause he and Deputy March were old friends."

  "Did you notice anything unusual about this man, son?"

  "Oh, sure! He had on the best-looking pair of boots you ever saw. White and black alligator, he said. I told him I admired 'em!"

  Thorn grunted. So that's why the man left them behind. Smart. He even had to give Fife credit, she hadn't mentioned the boots at all. "Did you notice anything else?"

  "Umm...not really, sir. He was dressed all in black, but he seemed real nice, you know? He was right nice to me, even gave me the money up front."

  "What color was his hair," asked Boxcar, over Thorn's shoulder.

  Eddie danced from one foot to the other. "Sorry, I couldn't really tell, it was up under his hat. But he did have a mustache over his lips, sort of like yours." He pointed to Thorn's mustache.

  Thorn knelt down in front of the boy. "Now, son, this is important. Deputy March here and this man like to play tricks on each other, but the deputy knows his friend will have disguised himself so he can't find him. So if you can tell me something about him, anything at all, it'll be worth some money to you from the deputy." He held up a cautioning finger. "It has to be good, though, really good. Like if you were going to go look for this fella, what would you look for?"

  Eddie's brow furrowed in heavy thought. "Well, sir," he began slowly. "On the pocket just inside his duster there was a medal pinned to the outside of the pocket. At least, it looked like a medal. It was shaped like a...a shield. Like in the old days, with the knights and all that stuff? It also had a cross on it and some sort of crown head at the top," he finished triumphantly.

  "That sounds like something a priest would wear," replied Boxcar thoughtfully.

  "How old would you say he was?" asked Thorn with a frown.

  "Old!" Eddie saw Thorn's eyebrow go up. "I mean, not like old gray hair old, but old like...like you're old...or maybe a little older than that. He had a few wrinkles."

  Boxcar chuckled behind Thorn. "Now, don't that make you feel old?"

  "So how much is that worth?" Eddie asked eagerly.

  Boxcar glanced at the deputy. "I'd say that's at least three dimes." The deputy grimaced.

  Eddie's face fell. "That's it?" He fidgeted again from one bare foot to the other. Then he snapped his fingers suddenly. "Would it help, if I told you I saw him headed out of town on a black horse on the way here?"

  Thorn pushed his hat back in surprise... "Why didn't you tell us this before?"

  Eddie looked blank. "You never asked me that."

  "Is there anything else you can tell us, Eddie?" Thorn asked in exasperation, trying to be patient. Interviewing children could be difficult. They were all over the place and hard to get to focus.

  "The man certainly likes black," commented Boxcar, to no one in particular.

  Eddie pounced on that. "His pistol handles weren't black, they were a real pretty white. Both of them." He grinned broadly. "Is that worth something?"

  "One more question," responded Thorn. "Was he headed east or west out of town?"

  "That's easy, he was headed west, towards California. I know 'cause that's where I'm going one of these days, to pan for gold!"

  Boxcar knelt down. "Eddie, I have another question. Was this man about as big as me and Thorn? Or about as big as the deputy?" He pointed at Deputy March, who was a head shorter than Boxcar and Thorn.

  Eddie lifted his hands high. "He was way taller than any of you, but not fat like—just big!"

  "Anything else?" asked Thorn. So far, Eddie's and Fife's descriptions were about the same, except Fife had said big and beautiful.

  "Nope—how much do I get?"

  Thorn handed him six shiny dimes... "There you go, don't spend it all on candy."

  "No, sir! I'm saving for a good horse to ride west!" Eddie turned and ran down the hallway. "Bye, thank you, sir!" He waved as he headed down the stairs, taking two steps at a time.

  "So what did you do, old buddy, rob a bank on the way here?" Boxcar drawled.

  "No, I'm expecting some of it back from the rest of you," retorted Thorn, turning to the other men. "Come on, I need to make up for some of the money I gave Eddie." He held out his hand to Boxcar and Deputy March. Even Cole threw in a dime.

  They turned back into the room, Thorn placing a chair beneath the door handle. Doc was sitting by Mary's bedside, feeling her forehead.

  "All right, Doc, I think it's time we heard your story. I've asked Doris out there to bring us some food; I don't think we should risk going out right now."

  "Why not?" asked Deputy March. "The boy said he was headed west."

  Thorn took a chair and sat down backwards on it, folding his arms on the chair back. "He also put his boots on Frank Ventermin," he snorted. "This man is smart, psychopath smart. He knew we would find the boy and question him. That's why he got rid of those boots, the boy noticed them."

  Boxcar picked up the thread. "So, he made sure the boy noticed he was leaving town," he added. "Maybe to draw us out, thinking he was gone."

  Cole nodded his head. "Yeah, that is pretty smart. It's like he's thinking a step ahead of you."

  "What do you mean, put his boots on Ventermin?" asked Mary, awake and looking pale. She sat up against the headboard, hugging a pillow.

  Thorn looked at her closely. The girl was very wan and dejected looking, but he supposed that was to be expected. He hated to add more bad news, but she'd find out, sooner or later. "Your stepfather was killed earlier today, Mary," he said quietly. "I know you didn't care much for him, but I know it's still another shock."

  "I don't care about him," Mary said, her voice devoid of expression. She turned to stare out the window, a tear sliding down the side of her face.

  The knock on the door signaled Doris had returned with their food, but all the men were on high alert and ready. They opened the door just enough to get the food from her and then Thorn took her arm. "Doris, make sure if anyone asks at the desk, we are in the room we originally signed up for. It might be a good idea if you have your husband or a man on duty for the night, just in case. And keep a few guns
handy under the counter."

  She nodded and scurried away, Thorn staring after her. At last, he closed the door and replaced the chair. Taking his seat again, he motioned to Doc to start while they were eating.

  Doc cleared his throat. "Well, it's sort of a long story, but the bottom line is, Maria was my foster sister, only her name isn't really Maria Vargis, it's Anna Martinez."

  Boxcar choked on a bite of his sandwich. "The dead nun?"

  "That's the one," nodded Doc grimly.

  Chapter Eleven

  They all tried to talk at once, but Thorn held up his hand, his eyes gleaming. "Let him talk, then we can ask questions."

  Doc stared at his plate, his food mostly untouched. "Are any of you familiar with the orphan train?"

  They all nodded, even Mary, her eyes wide.

  "Well, Anna and I met in a street gang in Boston. Both our parents had died in an influenza outbreak in the 1840s, and we were left to scavenge what we could in the streets, along with other orphans, of course. Some of us banded together for protection and to help each other steal what we could to keep from starving. I was sixteen and Maria was fifteen when the orphan train was devised by the Children's Society to bring children to the country and find them homes with good Christian people who needed help on their farms."

  He took off his spectacles and pinched his nose, his eyes shut for a moment. "The train ran through the rural countryside clear to Arkansas and would stop at depots where people would look at us like animals at an auction. Anna hated it. They would check our teeth, feel our muscles and other degrading things, to verify if we would be worth the effort of being given a home and food in our bellies. Anna was slight, light as a feather, and no one was much interested in her because she seemed sickly and weak. I insisted on staying with her, and the people from the society said they would try, but we might end up separated.

  Finally, we were approached by a preacher, who wanted to head west, but his wife was with child, and he needed someone to help care for her and someone to help him with the oxen and such. The Children's Society told him that we were like brother and sister and wanted to stay together. They asked if he would take us both into his home. At first, he didn't like Anna, but we were finally able to convince him that she was just small of stature, not weak or sickly. He eventually relented and took us into their home in Arkansas as foster children.

  Anna took to the church as if it was made for her, and Brother Wilson and his wife were kind to us, in their way. He was a hard man and expected strict obedience. He didn't spare the rod, needless to say, but we managed to do all right." He patted Mary's hand and continued.

  "We made it to the west, eventually, and in spite of the dangers, we settled near the Catholic mission south of Tucson. By that time, I was eighteen and had stopped off in Tucson to see about getting work. I had an affinity for animals, and the wagon-master knew the local doctor, who also practiced in animal husbandry, and he took me in to work with him. One thing Brother Wilson and his wife did for us was to educate us as much as was possible. I continued my education with Samuel Richards, the vet, and Anna went into the convent to become a nun. She was of Spanish descent and spoke it fluently so she fit in well there. I was against it, but it was her wish, and I had no right to stand in her way. It was there that Anna met Father Tobias Benedict."

  He paused and looked at Mary, his eyes softening. Then he cleared his throat and started again. "It was a clear spring morning when the stragglers came crawling into town, refugees from the burning mission. The Indians had attacked the mission, burned portions of it and attacked some of the outlying farms, our foster families being one of them. My three-year-old foster sister and both our foster parents were killed. In a panic, I made my way to the mission, searching desperately for Anna. I finally found her among the few survivors, her face blackened with smoke and blisters on her hands, clutching her pack she had rescued from the fires. They were laying out the dead, what was left of their face and bodies covered, and a note on the top of the body giving the name. She took me aside and asked me to please help her."

  Tears pooled in his sad eyes and he blew his nose and harrumphed into his handkerchief. "She said she had sinned against God and that she could no longer be a nun. She wanted to bury Anna Martinez and come away as a new person, to make penance with God. I didn't profess to understand her, but with all the smoke and confusion, it was a simple matter to take one of the Indian bodies whose face was badly charred from where he fell dead into the fires and put her nun's habit and clothing on the body. Her cloak covered the face, and she dressed in the boy's clothing she taken from one of the altar boy's rooms. She took her pack with her Bible in it and tied it to the body under her nun's habit. She then put her name on one of the cards the workers had for the dead. That day, she became Maria Antonia Vargis, a name she made up. And Anna Martinez was buried in the cemetery near the mission, with all the others who had died in the attack. I was to treat her as a virtual stranger that I had picked up along the road and given a ride into town. I was supposed to know nothing about her. I strongly disagreed, but she said it was her penance and it had to be that way."

  He paused for a moment as the memories flooded through him. "Doc Richards was able to get her a job cooking in a restaurant in town, and eight months later, she gave birth to you, Mary. She told everyone that her husband had died in the Indian attack and she stayed in Tucson to have her baby because she had no family or home to go to." He patted her hand absentmindedly.

  "The property my stepparents had lived on was homesteader's property, and they hadn't lived there long enough to claim rights to sell it so it slipped away."

  He looked down at Mary. "I was living with Doc Richards and I helped to deliver you, Mary, and he signed the birth record. She said your father was a Francisco Antonio Vargis but that he was dead.

  When you were two, she decided she wanted to get away from Tucson so she moved to El Paso and took a job cooking for a small restaurant owned by Frank Ventermin. I hated her moving that far away, so as soon as I finished my studies to be a doctor, I followed. By that time, you were almost four-years-old and were turning into a beautiful red-headed child, full of sunshine and laughter. Frank had taken over The Tarnished Rose and your mother had stayed with him, although I encouraged her otherwise. The first time I treated her for a busted lip and a black eye, I wanted to kill him, but she wouldn't let me. It would be too personal, she said. Our relationship couldn't be seen as anything but friends, not family, not ever."

  "Did you love her?" asked Mary, tears in her eyes.

  Doc sighed. "Yes, I loved her, but as a sister, nothing more than that. I protected her from the time I found her on the streets, crying because someone had stolen her crust of bread. I shared mine with her, and our lives became entwined. We stayed together as a matter of survival through the years and because we were as close to family as anyone could be. I simply never told anyone—just as she asked."

  "Did you ever marry?"

  "I did marry once, a long time ago. Valerie was one of the girls Frank took in. She was young and scared and left destitute, with nowhere to go after her mother died. I married Valerie to keep her from working for Frank. We did well enough together, and I suppose I grew to love her. She didn't have a strong constitution, though, and three years later, she died of pneumonia during one of our harsher winters. We never had any children."

  "I don't understand. Why did my mother change her name?" asked Mary, finally. "And why couldn't you two be family anymore? I'm confused as to why she did what she did."

  Doc put his hand through his iron gray hair and sighed. "At first, I didn't know, either. And when you were born, I realized that she must have had an affair with someone. It wasn't until you were about five that it finally clicked for me. I believe Father Tobias Benedict was your father and, because he was a priest, she felt she had sinned against God," he explained gently. "You have the same hair color he did, that wild red color, and the same beautiful Irish green eyes, altho
ugh he was English.' He chuckled. "I asked her about it one day, and she turned on me, begging me to never speak of it, because you would be in danger. And if anyone were to ever come asking about you or Anna Martinez, I was to say she was dead, and I knew nothing more than that. She wouldn't tell me why, I always figured she was afraid of the Diocese discrediting Father Benedict in the church's history. But she made me promise, so I did. I have never spoken of it until now."

  Boxcar and Thorn glanced at each other, their eyes gleaming. Thorn stood up. "Boxcar and I have a few things to discuss. We'll go down the hall to the rented room and be back in a few minutes." He turned to Cole. "Keep a close watch on that alley and a sharp ear for the hallway."

  Cole nodded as they left, and he posted Deputy March at the alleyway while he took the door.

  "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, old buddy?" asked Boxcar as they closed the door to 3B behind them. Always the careful one to the point of paranoia, Thorn prowled around and checked behind the changing curtains and under the bed before he spoke.

  When he finally stood up, Boxcar chuckled. "Satisfied?"

  "I am now," replied Thorn, checking behind the drapes. Finally, he sat on the bed and leaned back against the headboard, his rifle across his thighs. "So now, we know why the mystery of the ruby has never been solved. The ruby was put to rest with Anna. Maria Vargis came out of that mission, but there was never a record of her being there."

  Boxcar nodded eagerly. "And when she realized her child looked like Father Benedict, she moved far enough away that anyone who had known Tobias during his short sojourn as the priest of the mission would never put the two together."

  "It solves another mystery, too," added Thorn. "The mystery of why she stayed in a brothel with Ventermin all her life. It was the least likely place a person of moral character would be found."

  "So what got the investigation opened again?" queried Boxcar.

  "At this point, we have no idea, but whatever it was, it set the killer on Maria's trail."

  "I'm curious as to how the killer would know that a new clue had been found," added Boxcar thoughtfully.