He'd been enormously excited at first, swollen up bigger than a mule when Pearl, she said her name was, stripped off her fancy dress and stretched out on that sagging mattress. Artemis had never even seen a naked woman before, much less bedded one, and just the thought that this Pearl was gonna let him put his hands anywhere he wanted to on her nice plump body nearly had him coming undone in his pants before he'd been in the room two minutes. Of course, all that was before Tubbs took his turn.
Pearl made the mistake of asking Tubbs how he wanted his fun, and then called him lover-boy. Tubbs slapped that Pearl right across her painted-up mouth and told her he wasn't paying her to talk. Before he did anything else, he turned and grinned at Artemis, telling him, "Watch this and see if you can't learn a thing or two, kid." Then he tore off his trousers and climbed on top of her without so much as a "pardon me, ma'am."
Since he'd never seen anything quite like that before either, Artemis watched them for a while, randy as a goat and still feeling big as a mule. But then he glanced beyond the sweating bodies to Pearl's face. Her indifferent gaze was fastened on the ceiling, and her mouth, untouched by Tubbs's lips, was still perfectly painted, but at the same time pinched and drawn, as if she might be uncomfortable or something. That's when Artemis noticed her hands were filled with the soiled sheets beneath her, drawn into tight little fists.
By the time his hero had finished with Pearl, Artemis's excitement had evaporated, and in its place he felt nothing but disgust and a deep sadness. All he wanted to do was leave, disappear into the night, and pretend none of this had happened. Tubbs didn't understand that at all. He laughed at him, sounding a little like Billy as he told him that it was about time he learned to be a man. Tubbs kept on laughing, saying that he might as well take both turns with the girl since one of them didn't seem to have the heart for such work, and that's when Artemis turned and bolted from the room.
Far as he knew, Tubbs would probably laugh all night long over that one, Artemis thought as he slipped in through the back door of Naegelin's Livery. Well, he could laugh all he wanted to if it made him happy, but there were just some things Artemis couldn't do. Treating a delicate little female like that was one of them.
And he was pretty sure that killing a man for no good reason he could think of was another. It wasn't just that he didn't know how to do murder; he didn't want to learn how, either. If it turned out that Tubbs gave him the job of taking out the marshal, Artemis didn't know what he was gonna do. He only knew that if he couldn't bring himself to do the deed, Tubbs wouldn't just laugh about it. There'd be hell to pay.
More troubled than he could remember being in his entire life, Artemis climbed under the medicine wagon and burrowed himself in the used bedding straw beneath it to hide himself from the world. Then he dropped into a fitful sleep.
* * *
Cain, Zack, and Oda stood in the hallway on the second floor of the Strater Hotel, staring at one another, a trio of mutes shocked into silence. Cain finally broke the silence by saying, "I'm sure what happened here between you folks is none of my business, but why don't you let me be the one to go after Mariah."
"Isn't your place, that's why," Zack said defiantly. "This family's had a mighty tall skeleton hiding in the back of the closet for too long now. Them bones been a-rattling around trying to get out in the light for nigh onto twenty years."
Oda, her expression as unreadable as ever, stared hard at her husband. "Buried is where they belong and where they should have stayed."
"Well, whether we like it or not, they ain't buried no more. Them bones have risen up sure as Lazarus now, woman, and there ain't a thing we can do about it but pull together and go look for our girl."
Cain stepped between them, facing Zack. "I still think I ought to be the one to go after her. I have a pretty good idea where she might be, and I'm afraid it might be awfully tough going for you, especially at night."
Zack's face fell. "I guess I ain't much of a tracker at that."
"But I am, and I'm damn good at it." Cain paused, wondering where in the hell that bit of information had come from, knowing, somehow, that it was true. With a simple nod, he started for the stairs.
As he'd guessed he would, Cain found Mariah down by the Animas River. She was sitting amongst the willows almost in the exact same spot as yesterday, her eyes wet with tears. When he approached her, she glanced up at him, acknowledging his presence. Then she turned her silent gaze back out to the roiling waters, silvery and shimmering in the near- darkness. Cain sat down beside her, giving her the only thing he could at that moment: some quiet time to sort through her feelings.
When she finally broke the silence, Mariah spoke in a voice husky with emotion. "The Spanish named this river el Rio de las Animas Perdidas. It means 'the river of lost souls.' That's how I feel right now, Cain. A lost soul with no one I can trust... and no one to love."
He moved closer to her and eased his arm across her trembling shoulders. Then he did what little he could to comfort her. "I don't know what happened with you and your parents tonight, but no matter how bad it is, remember you have me, princess: dear old Cousin Cain."
The remark drew a tiny chuckle from her, but no reply.
"And, of course, you have much more than me. Even if you've had a fight, you still have a mother and father who love you very much."
"A father?" Mariah whipped her head around to meet his gaze. "But you're so wrong, so very, very wrong. I lost my father tonight, Cain. Did you know that?" As he shook his head she explained. "I snuck up to their door to see how things were going with you and Zack, when I overheard them talking. Zack mentioned that he wasn't my real father."
"Oh, Mariah." Because he didn't know what else to do, Cain squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"Neither did I until tonight." She looked back out on the river, fresh tears spilling over her eyelids.
Reaching over to brush the moisture from her cheeks, Cain softly said, "I'm sure this has been a real shock to you, princess, but Zack and Oda were pretty shook up, too, the last time I saw them."
Mariah didn't have any trouble believing that. She could still see the shock rippling across Oda's normally calm features. Her mother was upset all right, but Mariah suspected it was only because she'd been found out. Which reminded her of her own deception. Almost afraid to hear the answer, she asked, "Did all of this come up when you went to see Zack?"
"I suppose it must have, but not in my presence. Zack just admitted that you and I aren't blood cousins after all, and then Oda asked me to leave them alone. I went downstairs to get a newspaper, and when I came back... well, you know what happened after that."
Knowing that Zack had backed her up, and in front of Oda, brought Mariah little comfort. All she could think about was her parents' duplicity. "Yes," she said. "I sure do know what happened after that."
"Oh, come on now, princess. It's not really so bad as all that, is it?"
Something hot twisted in her chest, burning her, and she fought against the pain, wanting only to keep the anger. "They've lied to me all these years, Cain. I feel so betrayed, I don't know if I can ever forgive them. But I don't really expect you to understand."
"Not understand? Me? Try living in the boots I've been wearing these past few weeks. If you really want to experience that 'lost soul' feeling, why not climb inside my head for a while?"
"It's not the same thing," she said, speaking without thinking.
"It sure as hell feels the same to me. Didn't you just tell me not two hours ago that Thomas Law wasn't my natural father?"
Mariah gasped. "Oh. Well, yes, but—"
"No buts about it. I'd say it's not only exactly the same thing as what happened to you, but it's also as ironic as hell."
Lord, how could things have gotten so completely crazy that the story she'd made up about him turned out to be true about her? What could she possibly say to make him understand? She gave it one last try. "The difference between us is that I always thought I knew
who I was. Now... I'm not so sure anymore. And I don't know if I'll ever be sure about who I am again."
"I still don't see a difference. You know a hell of a lot more about yourself right this minute than I know about me. One of the biggest things you're not considering is that no matter what Zack and Oda may have done or how they deceived you, you know that they both love you very much." His mood suddenly reflective, pensive, he took his arm from her shoulders and draped it across his knees. "And another thing—if you should choose to, you can reach out for that love anytime you want it."
Mariah was crying again, this time as much for him as for herself. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up your memory problem or your missing past."
"Don't be sorry—learn from it."
Mariah wiped her tears and then glanced at Cain.
He was staring out at the river the way she had, his look as dark as the approaching night. "What do you mean, 'learn'?"
"Learn to appreciate the fact that you know who at least one of your parents is," he said, quietly. "I have absolutely no memory of mine. You can tell me anything you want to about Thomas and Mary Law, but they mean nothing to me—understand? Nothing. I can't bring up an image of them, I can't hear their voices, and I can't touch them. If there is a lost soul sitting down here tonight, it's me, princess, not you."
Cain was right, utterly and appallingly right, and it was all because of her and the lies she'd told him. Just what she needed, Mariah thought: guilt on top of heartbreak.
Too disoriented to sort through her feelings any longer, she jumped to her feet and ran toward the Animas. She had no intention of jumping in the water, or actually any idea about where she was going. She only knew that she had to run away, to escape from the present and the past.
Cain only saw that Mariah was running headlong toward the river. He tore after her, catching her as she reached the water's edge, then spun her around and into his arms. "Mariah, please stop and think about what you're doing."
"Let me go," she said, fighting him. "I just want everyone to leave me alone—including you."
"That's not going to happen." He held her firmly. "It may not seem like it now, but back there at the hotel are people who want to hold you, to love you. We all do."
"And which people are those, Cain?" Mariah stopped struggling against his powerful arms and challenged him instead with her gaze and her words. "Zack, a man I can no longer trust? Oda, a woman it seems I know next to nothing about? Or maybe you're referring to yourself. How do you feel about me, Cain?"
She caught him off guard. "Damn, what a question, Mariah. I care one hell of a lot. You know that I do. I, ah..."
But he couldn't say the words he suspected she wanted to hear, or even identify the emotions battling within his chest. Something was holding him back, an ugly, malignant thing he'd carried with him for a very long time. Whatever it was, it was too deep to unearth now, too big.
When he looked into Mariah's eyes and saw the pain and despair shining through her tears, he did the next best thing he could think of. The only thing he could do. Cain lifted her up on her toes, fully capturing her lips and her body with his own, and showed her the way he felt.
The kiss he'd stolen the previous afternoon had been thrilling and exciting, passionate in its own way, but now that the moral restraints on indulging in such intimacies had been tossed aside, Cain's lust for Mariah knew no boundaries. He couldn't seem to stop kissing her, couldn't keep his hands from caressing her soft skin or plunging into her thick, dark tresses.
Mariah went wild in response, encouraging him past those previous limits, all but begging him for the experience of tasting everything he had to offer. She was ripe with a refreshingly candid desire, and so very, very... vulnerable.
If not for that final thought, and the reminder of how fragile her emotions were at this time, Cain was sure they'd have been lost to one another for the balance of the evening, victims of a passion that would not be denied. As it was, he managed to release her, and abruptly set her away from him.
His voice much deeper than normal, his throat tight, Cain said, "That ought to give you some idea how I feel about you."
Mariah was breathless. Her lips were on fire, and her entire body felt as if it were electrified. Strangest of all, her anguish had been muted somehow, and now she felt like laughing—no, giggling like a giddy little child. Containing the urge, she looked up at Cain with a shy smile as she said, "I appreciate your setting me straight about that. And by the way—you 'feel' pretty good."
Returning her grin, he admitted, "So do you." Then, worried that he might give in to the impulse to take her back into his arms, Cain dug into the pocket of his shirt. As he withdrew a blue satin ribbon, one he was certain she'd lost as she raced away from the hotel, he said, "I found this lying on the railroad tracks. Maybe you'd like to use it to tie up your hair."
She glanced at the ribbon, and then at Cain. "We're going back to the Strater now?"
"I think we'd better. We can't even begin to figure out what's going on between us until you get yourself straightened out with Oda and Zack. It wouldn't be fair to anybody otherwise. Especially you."
For a moment, Mariah was afraid that she might burst into tears again. Not because she perceived his suggestion as a rejection, but because he was right. No matter how badly she wanted to stay right here with Cain, she had to return to the hotel and get her life back to some kind of order. And to do that, she would have to sever or mend her ties to the couple who referred to themselves as her parents.
* * *
It wasn't easy, but Cain smuggled a hatless, slightly disheveled Mariah back into the hotel without anyone noticing her. Then he left her in the company of her parents and went off to his own room, giving the Pennys as much privacy as the situation warranted.
Mariah wished he hadn't been so noble. As she looked at Zack sitting stiff-backed on the edge of the bed, and at Oda, who appeared to be sulking at the desk, Mariah could have used a friend about now. She fidgeted in the Queen Anne chair, crossing and uncrossing her legs a dozen times over, nibbling at her fingernails, and fiddling with the velvet buttons on the bodice of her dress, but she couldn't seem to ask even one of the millions of questions she'd thought of while sitting by the river.
Zack finally broke the ice. He nodded toward Mariah as he said, "I expect you're all in a fret trying to figure out why your ma and I never owned up to the fact that I ain't your natural pa."
But you are my father—you are. Mariah didn't say the words but nodded solemnly.
Zack glanced at his wife. "Your ma and I talked it over while Cain was out looking for you, and we think it'd be best if you and Oda work this out alone."
Mariah's gaze darted over to where her mother sat. Her head was bowed, and she stared at the floral pattern in the rug as if hypnotized. She looked especially tired, droopy, and even her mouth, devoid of the usual cigar, sagged slightly at the corner where her stogie normally fit.
Mariah looked back at her father and said, "Thank you."
With more difficulty than usual, he got to his feet and limped toward the door. "I'll be back a little later. You two take it good and slow. Listen to one another." Then he was gone.
The room remained silent even after both women knew Zack was out of earshot. Tiring of waiting for her mother to begin her explanation, Mariah forced the issue by saying, "Who is my real father?"
Oda's head jerked up at this question as if she'd been doused with cold water. Since she had little left to hide, she simply said, "Patrick O'Conner, but he went by the name Storm."
The fine hairs on Mariah's arms stood up, and a tremor racked her spine. To hear the name, to suddenly be told, "No, you're not a Penny, but an O'Conner," filled her with a sense of the unreal, as if she were struggling to awaken from a nightmare.
Oda, who recognized no such reaction in her daughter, went on to say, "Since I'm a Fitzgerald by birth, I guess that makes you about as Irish as a girl can get."
Mariah snapped
out of her fugue enough to recognize that the tone her mother had taken was the one she always used when she figured she'd done about all the talking she had to. But she wasn't about to let her mother off the hook that easily. "Tell me about him. Were you two married? Is he dead? What happened?"
Oda's gaze fell back down to the rug, and she began twisting the hanky she held in her hands. "I, ah... ain't much good at this kind of talk."
"It doesn't matter to me how good you are at it, just do it, please."
Still unable to look her daughter in the eye, Oda let her mind wander back to the past. "Storm and Zachariah was good friends since the war, when Zachariah got his leg shot off and Storm saved his life. They pretty much did everything together after that, and both signed up as scouts for the wagon train my folks was with. We got as far as Stonewall Valley before the family went on without me."
Oda never spoke of her own parents, and in fact, was so adamantly opposed to questions about them, Mariah assumed they'd died horrible deaths while crossing the country as homesteaders. Risking her mother's wrath, she said, "Tell me about the Fitzgeralds before you go on."
Surprised by the question, Oda's gaze shot to her daughter. "Ain't much to tell. It was me, ma and pa, and my two little brothers, Mike and Jimmy."
"Did... did something happen to them on the trail? Are they dead?"
Oda shrugged. "They're only dead to me as far's I know."
"But—"
"I can't explain about them without talking about Storm first. Besides, isn't he the one you want to know about?"
"Yes," Mariah said in a bare whisper, promising herself not to interrupt her mother again until she'd run out of story.
Again averting her gaze, Oda went on. "I never saw a man as handsome as Storm before or since. He had thick black hair like yours, and the most gorgeous blue eyes I've ever seen on a man or a woman. I was sixteen during the crossing, didn't know nothing about men and their ways, and just kinda followed him around like I was a stray puppy looking for a handout." She paused, not sure how to proceed. "To this day, I think it's 'cause I was the only girl of age with the wagon train that weren't taken, but whatever the reason, both Zachariah and Storm were kind of sweet on me."
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