The Heart of Mary: A Thorn Novel

by Brandy Golden

  "Still no proof of anything, it's all circumstantial," replied Boxcar, pulling on the reins as his horse decided to dance at a tumbleweed rolling in the breeze.

  "It's going to be dark when we hit Gila pass, so the place where Jessup was killed will be dark, too. Going to be hard to see much of anything by then," grumbled Thorn.

  "We could circle back tomorrow morning after we put him in jail and look for his stuff."

  "Yeah, if he doesn't do something stupid first," replied Thorn tersely, picking up his pace. The bad feeling he had was getting stronger, and Clary was heavy on his mind. "Come on, Boxcar, let's get moving, we're wasting daylight."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Morgan sat in the Chuparosa diner and watched Clary Worthington visiting with Tilly, the owner. She was a fine looking woman, be a shame to have to kill her. He hadn't decided yet if he was going to wait for Thorn and his sidekick to get there. They didn't have any real proof that he was the killer, he was sure. They suspected him, obviously, but they had no proof because he hadn't left them any. The real problem was he didn't know what Maria had told Mary and Thorn. He was sure it had to do with where the ruby was hidden, but he hadn't been able to figure out yet where Maria came into it or how she had the chance to steal the ruby.

  He watched Clary as he brooded, the thoughts swirling around in his head. Yeah, she sure was a fine looking woman. He motioned Tilly to bring him another cup of coffee. Clary avoided his gaze as she waited for her friend to return.

  "Thank you, darlin'," he said smoothly to Tilly, noting the guarded look in her eyes. He'd seen Nelson talking to her earlier, maybe he had a thing for her and had warned her off him. He smiled. She was a fine looking woman too. His thoughts went back to Maria Vargis.

  There had been nothing in Harrison's papers except the information that Mary might be Father Benedict's daughter. It was a whole lot more than they had to go on before, and so the case had been opened, once again. But how in the hell had Father Benedict managed to impregnate Maria? There was no record of a Vargis family living in the outlying areas, he was sure of that. He had checked all the records back then, those living at the mission and the homesteaders who had filed with the assayer's office. There had been no Vargis. And certainly none of the nuns was named Vargis, every one of them had been accounted for and checked out. Even the six dead ones all had graves, bodies, and pine boxes.

  It was a maddening puzzle, this new development. And maybe it was also a dead end. It was a shame he'd had to kill Harrison, if that was the case. But the man had refused to discuss the case with him when he had asked nicely, so he hadn't left him any choice.

  He would never forget Father Benedict, although he'd only been twelve at the time the Indians attacked. It was the day he had failed in his duty to God and the good Father. And now, he had to make it right. The angel had told him it would be all right, as he lay over the broken statue of Mary, but it hadn't been all right. The Virgin Mary's heart was gone, his family was gone, Father Benedict was gone, and most of the nuns had been killed. The mission was almost completely destroyed, and all because he had failed in his duty. When it was all over with, Doc Richards had been there, telling him what a lucky boy he was that they had been able to save his damaged leg. But he knew better. He knew God was giving him another chance. The chance to find the Heart of Mary and return it. And he would do that, no matter how many people he had to kill, no matter what the cost. He would complete the task Father Benedict had assigned him all those years ago. It was his only goal in life and then, maybe, he could move on.

  He took the telegram out of his pocket and read it again as he sipped his coffee, his food only half-eaten. The Santa Fe Diocese and the governor would be at the mission in three days, and Father Vincent wanted him to provide security for them while they were there. Nothing must happen to his holiness while he was in the Arizona territories. Morgan smiled. Thorn must have initiated this after Maria died, that was the only reason they were coming. And that meant Thorn knew where the ruby was hidden. It also meant that it must be close to the mission. Why else would they travel all that way? He took a drink of his coffee, deep in thought.

  But if Maria had taken the ruby, why had she left it behind? She'd been in El Paso since Mary was two-years-old, he'd found out. Why had she hidden it, instead of selling it and living nicely? Frank Ventermin had been a weak, sniveling fool, who had mistreated her for years. He'd checked around. Why did she live like that when she could have done better? He just didn't understand it. It was too bad she had died before he had a chance to talk to her. He could have made her tell him about the ruby; he had ways of making people talk. That damned fool Ventermin had spoiled all his plans.

  He set his coffee cup down abruptly and stood up, his mind made up. He'd wait for Thorn to get back and then he would move on. No point in stirring up their suspicions any further by leaving. They had nothing on him, no proof of anything, they couldn't hold him. Satisfied with his decision, he doffed his hat to the ladies and made his way to The Shady Inn to wait. It would give him time to make sure his story was rock solid and unshakeable. With him guarding the Diocese and the governor, there was no way the secret of the ruby would be withheld. And as long as it got back into the statue of Mary, he didn't care who found it first. Father Vincent would see to that, he was sure of it. The statue had been repaired years ago, but the space for the heart was empty. Not for much longer, though.

  Nelson met Thorn and Boxcar on the outskirts of town around 1:00 AM in the morning. He held his rifle up in the air to indicate he was not an enemy. "Thorn, it's me," he yelled as the two riders slowed. By the moonlight, he could see the motions of them drawing their rifles. He advanced slowly until they could all see each other clearly and then they stopped.

  "What are you doing out here, Nelson," growled Thorn, his horse panting and snorting. The last few miles they had been riding hard.

  "Relax, everything's quiet for now. Morgan is at the hotel, I've had a guard on him all night, he hasn't gone anywhere."

  Boxcar's keen gaze surveyed the street lamps ahead of him, but they were still too far away to see anything clearly. "As long as everything is secure, we'll walk the horses in. Thorn had one of his bad feelings, and we were both worried about Clary and Tilly."

  "Why? They don't have anything to do with the ruby."

  "Leverage," replied Thorn grimly. "Leverage against me or Boxcar."

  "You better enlighten me," said Nelson dryly. "I can see I'm lost here."

  As they rode slow into Potluck, they told Nelson everything that had transpired.

  Nelson shook his head. "It just doesn't make sense, Thorn. The thought that Joseph may have killed my father just twists my gut. And what about the other three investigators who were killed, besides Harrison? You saying he did that, too?"

  "I'm not saying he did any of that, Nelson. I'm just saying I have reason to believe he killed Jessup and Springer. And I think he also killed Harrison and Ventermin."

  They were just entering the stable, and Thorn paused under the lantern light. He took the drawing out of his pocket and handed it to Nelson. "That's the description Eddie gave Boxcar and he drew it as he said. And Fife tried to pretend she didn't recognize it, but we tricked her into mentioning the scar. Does he have a scar? And since I've never seen the man, is this a likeness of him?"

  Nelson nodded grimly. "Yes, that's him. He got the scar when the mission was attacked, but he doesn't remember how it happened. At least, that's what he told me years ago. He took an arrow in the leg and they found him collapsed over the broken statue of Mary. I suppose he could have gotten cut on the statue."

  "He was at the mission?" asked Boxcar curiously, as they brushed their horses down and gave them feed and water.

  "Yes, he was there, he was an altar boy at the time."

  "So how do you go from altar boy to killer?" asked Thorn tersely.

  "I told you it didn't make sense." Nelson shook his head. "It just doesn't make sense but I do know this lik
eness fits him to a T. You going to arrest him?

  Thorn nodded. "The picture is proof that he had opportunity. And Eddie saw him wearing the alligator boots. That's enough evidence to arrest him. We can gather more from there. I'm sure he hid the pistols and shield somewhere around Gila pass, but we'll have to search in the daylight. It was too dark on the way in."

  "He said he was coming into the jail to say goodbye in the morning. He got called back by Father Vincent to be the bodyguard for the governor and the Diocese, when they come to Tucson in three days."

  "He's a bodyguard?" Boxcar was incredulous.

  Nelson nodded, his eyes gleaming. "He's a dangerous man, Boxcar, don't ever underestimate him. He's proficient in weapons of all sorts, and he's never lost a man under his protection. If he resists being arrested, it's going to take all of us to make it happen without someone getting hurt."

  "It can wait until morning," replied Thorn wearily. He was dead tired, and he wanted to see Clary. He still had a bad feeling, and he wanted to make sure for himself that she was all right. "If he's as good as you say, coming to the jail would be even better for us. At least we can relieve him of his guns and back him into a cell."

  "I'll tell Charlie and the boys to take a nap and take turns watching the hotel over the next few hours. I don't think he's going anywhere, though."

  Thorn glanced at Nelson in derision. "Like you said, never underestimate him."

  Nelson flushed slightly. "Right."

  Silent as a cat, Joseph dropped from the hayloft onto the stable floor. So, they were going to arrest him. Well, he couldn't have that, it wasn't in his plans. Looks like things had changed. That little kid in El Paso and Fife had done him in after all. Beware women and children, he thought, shaking his head. He'd never be able to touch either one of them. Kids were off limits, and he loved Fife. It wasn't her fault they had tricked her.

  He sat back on his haunches and chewed a piece of straw while he thought. He'd been right about those two, that Thorn and Boxcar. They were smart—too smart. He glanced down the row of stalls, his eyes coming to rest on the one with Clary Worthington's name on it. This was where she boarded her horse, and he also knew where she lived. Too bad they hadn't brought Mary with them, but Clary would do.

  Thorn bounded up the stairs to Clary's place, tapping lightly on the door. He could hardly wait to see her. When her sleepy voice came through the door, his pants suddenly tightened.

  "Who...who is it?"

  "It's me, Clary. I'm back." There was no teasing him this time. The door was yanked open and Clary grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him inside and slamming the door behind him. She immediately jumped into his arms, and he fumbled to lock the door while she was kissing his face and wrapping her legs around his waist.

  With a low growl, his arms went beneath her rounded buttocks and he carried her into the bedroom, where he fell onto the bed with her, his mouth devouring her as if he hadn't seen her in months. His hands were propped beside her head to alleviate his weight, and she was pulling desperately at his belt buckle. And it felt like months, he thought. God, he loved this woman! "No tormenting this time, huh?" he whispered against the white column of her lovely throat. His lips made their way down the silken softness to the tops of her breasts where he moaned in delight as his tongue caught a pebbly nipple through the sheer fabric of her gown.

  "No tormenting," she replied throatily, her blue eyes devouring him. "I've been so worried about you and missing you." She threw his gun belt aside with the pistol still in the holder and released his hard shaft from its zippered covering. The gun belt hit the floor and slid sideways, coming to a rest about six feet from the bed.

  "There's a spanking to be had for treating my gun that way," he teased, his fingers nimbly unlacing the front of her gown. His hot mouth found the bare nipple, and he suckled it while his hand pushed up her nightgown. She didn't have any pantaloons on, another reason for a spanking, but first things first. He felt the soft mound of her sex and dipped lower to find her ready for him.

  "I need you," she panted. "I need you now!"

  "I need you too, honey," he grated hoarsely as he rammed home in one long thrust, seating himself within her. She felt so good! He couldn't help himself, she was so sweet, so wonderful. It was like riding a bucking bronco as she rose up to meet him, her passionate nature fully unleashed. They both shuddered together and wrapped around each other as he fell sideways, taking her with him and landing with her on top, her hands stroking his hair and planing light kisses on his chin. His hands kneaded her soft buttocks, one stroking up her back beneath the shimmery material.

  "Well, now, isn't this cozy?"

  Thorn instinctively rolled Clary to the side and sat up to block her from the sight of the man standing in the doorway, both guns trained on them. Clary was gasping and pulling at her nightdress, trying to cover herself.

  Thorn knew immediately who he was—Joseph Morgan. Boxcar's drawing had been eerily correct, except Morgan was now wearing a leering smile.

  "What the hell are you doing here," growled Thorn, desperately trying to calculate whether he could reach his pistols in time to save Clary. It was a dismal, frustrating realization to know he couldn't.

  "Don't worry, I have a deal for you," replied Joseph smoothly, obviously enjoying himself as Clary cowered behind Thorn.

  "What deal?" Thorn snapped. Every muscle and nerve was on a screaming edge. How in the devil had the man gotten in here? He was supposed to be under guard at the hotel. He'd let Clary distract him from dealing with Morgan first, and that had been a mistake.

  "Your woman is going for a little ride with me. As long as you both do as you're told, no one will get hurt. I have no intention of violating her, either, that's not my style."

  "What do you want?" growled Thorn, ready to explode. He didn't believe a word this man was saying. He couldn't afford to believe him, he had to protect Clary.

  "You're a smart man, you know what I want, by now." The easy smile turned cold. "I want the Heart of Mary. Same thing I've wanted for years now. You know where it is and, before you deny it, don't bother wasting my time. I know from arrangements you've made that it's somewhere near the mission. That's where I'm headed. Don't bother looking for us, I know those hills and mountains like the back of my hand, and you don't have time to waste. You get that ruby and return Mary's heart to her, and I'll release your woman when the sun rises tomorrow morning. If the ruby isn't there, you'll find her body in front of the Virgin Mary, a sacrifice to your greed." He waved one pistol at Clary.

  It was then that Thorn realized the man had the light of madness in his eyes. "Why do you want the ruby in the statue?" he asked carefully, trying not to excite him. He held very still, his hand behind him, cautioning Clary to hold still.

  "That's none of your business," he snarled. He motioned to Clary. "Get over there behind that curtain and put on some riding clothes. And before you try to use anything you might have stashed back there, just remember I've got one gun trained on you and one on him. He moves, I shoot. You try anything, I still shoot, and you both die. Got it?"

  Clary gulped and nodded, clutching the front of her gown together and slowly slipping off the bed.

  Thorn tried again. "You sure you want the ruby for the statue and not for the money?"

  Morgan eyes turned deadly. "It belongs to the Virgin Mary, not me. It's her heart. Now, shut up." He pulled the cock back on the pistol, to emphasize he meant what he said.

  Thorn put his hand up, in a gesture of acceptance. "All right, I believe you."

  Thorn watched in desperation, never taking his eyes off the huge man in the doorway. Even if he survived a pistol shot, he doubted he could take Morgan down alone. He cursed himself once more for not arresting him as soon as they reached Potluck. The only saving grace was that he didn't see any lasciviousness in his eyes when he glanced at Clary. She was simply a means to an end. Thank God, he didn't have Mary. Mary didn't want the ruby in the statue, she wanted it for the mon
ey. He tried to calculate whether Clary was protected enough behind the screen to make a play for his gun on the floor. He might be killed, but he was pretty sure he could kill Morgan before he died. At least Clary would be safe.

  "Don't even think it," warned Morgan, his eyes gleaming at Thorn. "You go for that gun or try to resist, and she's the one I kill first." He waved a pistol at Clary behind the changing screen. "And after I kill her, I'll kill you. And then, I'll go back and get Mary to help me find the ruby. Turn around."

  Thorn glared balefully at Morgan until the man took aim at the screen and then he hastily turned his back. In the next instant, the world went dark.

  When Thorn came to, he was being trussed up like a Christmas turkey. He watched her face as Clary tried to leave him a loose rope like he had taught her, but Morgan checked her work. He struggled wildly when she finished, and Morgan took her arm and led her from the room. Her eyes were full of tears as she looked over her shoulder. He had never felt so helpless in his life, and he groaned in anger and agony through the kerchief stuffed in his mouth.

  Morgan had looked back too. "Remember what I said—sunrise tomorrow morning. I'll get that ruby, one way or the other. Either you give it to me tomorrow, or I'll get Mary, and she'll get it for me. You can't stop a man on a mission from God." With that cryptic remark, he left Thorn behind, trying desperately to free himself. What mission from God? The man was a raving lunatic. And right now, everyone had let their guard down and was waiting until morning for further orders. If he had to sit here until someone came looking for him, Morgan would have too much of a head start for them to catch up to him. And tracking him in the rocky, sandy ground between here and Tucson would be impossible.

  Thorn leaned his head back against the headboard and groaned again. There had to be a way out of this. Problem was there wasn't. His hands had been tied behind his back, his knees tied up around his chest, and a rope tied from his ankles in front to his wrists in the back and then looped back over his shoulders to end up at his ankles again. Two more ropes had secured each of his arms to a bedpost. There was no way he was getting loose. Morgan had come prepared. As he struggled in his nightmarish bindings, time seemed to lose all meaning.