Fallen-Angels

by Ashlynn Monroe

  She turned and found herself knocked speechless. How had Purity found out about her arrest? News traveled fast, but not that fast.

  Justice walked over to her sister, wondering if their last conversation would end in reconciliation or more angry blame.

  “I’m so sorry, Justice. I’ve been so terrible to you! I don’t want you to die. I’ve hired a private lawyer, from El Paso. He’ll be here tomorrow. I’m not going to let them hurt you. Can you ever forgive me?” Purity’s words gushed out like a fountain of emotion.

  Justice held back her own tears. Later when it was dark and quiet she would let herself cry, but not now, not in front of her already upset sister.

  “There’s nothing to forgive, Purity. I love you and I’ve always loved you. Don’t worry, if they hang me at least I won’t be gun slinging anymore.” She tried to joke with her sister but the words just caused Purity to cry harder and louder. Her obnoxious neighbor shouted out at Purity.

  “Shut up lady, I can’t hear the voices in my head talking!”

  Purity shuddered and looked at her sister. Justice winked and tried to present an air of false bravo.

  “He’s got the right idea—plead insanity. Do you think I should try that one?”

  Purity sucked her sob back in, and spoke shakily, “The lawyer I hired has a plan. He thinks we can use the fact that you’re female to shed doubt that you actually committed the crimes.”

  Justice frowned and shook her head. “I don’t like that defense.”

  Purity narrowed her eyes in disagreement. “If it will save your life, just be willing to be a girl for once!”

  Justice sighed and nodded her head in agreement. She was just about to speak when the sound of footsteps running down the hall caused both she and Purity to turn and look. Justice wasn’t sure if she was really seeing what she thought she was seeing. She and Purity exchanged a look of stunned shock.

  Grace was running toward them, dressed in expensive and very respectable clothing. She threw her arms around Purity and then reached through the bars trying to hug Justice.

  “I came as soon as I heard that you’d been arrested!”

  Justice couldn’t think of a reply, and Grace continued on as a tall well-dressed man walked up behind her, “This is my husband, Ricardo. He is going to use all of his connections to help get you out of this.”

  Justice was torn between joy and anger. She had been searching, obsessively, for years, thinking that the worst must have happened to her sister alone in the desert. And here Grace was—married to a crime boss, wealthy, safe, and obviously keeping tabs on her. How else would she have known about the arrest?

  Purity seemed to have decided on anger. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you contact one of us? You ran away and left us, but I see you’ve done well for yourself. So glad to see you haven’t gone through hell too.”

  Grace spoke quietly, clearly taken aback and hurt, “When Ricardo found me, more dead than alive, he took care of me. By the time I was well enough to try and find you, the trail was cold. For months, he did what he could to find you for me, but by then Purity was working at Martha’s Watering Hole and you were a wanted woman. He asked me to marry him, and I loved him, so I said yes. He is a respectable man in the community. I thought you’d both understand.”

  Justice noticed his hand and snatched it through the bars. She studied the tattoo above his wrist for a moment and then dropped his hand in disgust.

  “Respectable my ass! He’s part of The Family!”

  “Shh,” Grace hushed her, looking around the jail. “Don’t say that so loud. I certainly don’t need the lawmen to overhear us. As far as our social circle knows or cares, he runs a respectable business. My husband isn’t going around robbing trains for goodness sake.”

  Grace pinned her sister with a self-righteous look. If only she knew that Justice had wanted the money to find her, to save her. She would have never agreed to the robbery if she had known her sister was living the good life with her mobster husband. Justice turned so Grace wouldn’t see the tears building in her eyes. When she finally spoke, her voice was hard.

  “I don’t want your ‘respectable’ help. I’d hate for your sewing circle or church ladies group to know that you were helping your criminal sister. Just go. I don’t want to see you right now.”

  An angry, indignant sound erupted from Grace, and Justice heard her well made shoes clicking as she and her husband left without another word. Fleetingly, Justice wondered if they planned to watch her hang. Justice pulled turned to see Purity, still standing next to her cell, tears shining in her eyes.

  “I can’t believe her! She ran from us. When we needed her, she left—ashamed of us no less.”

  “At least I can die in peace now, knowing she’s alright.” Justice dropped her voice to a whisper, so that only Purity could hear her words, “After I’m dead, I want you to find Steel Wall and tell him that he owes you my share of the money. If I’m going to die for that money, I want to leave it to you as your inheritance. I want you to leave Jimmy, go north, start a life as a respectable widow and find your own happiness.”

  Purity began to cry again. When she spoke, her words were stilted between sobs, “I…don’t…want…you…to…die.”

  “I know,” Justice managed, “but I probably will. I want you to promise me that you’ll find happiness. I want you to promise me that you won’t let Jimmy hurt you anymore.”

  Purity just nodded and kept on sobbing. Justice reached out between the bars and squeezed her shoulders reassuringly.

  When Purity had calmed down a little, she spoke again, “Thank you for sticking by me, Justice. I never should have blamed you. You could’ve been like Grace and just walked away. I know you only did what you did to survive, just like me. I never should have blamed you. I just hated you for not being hurt like Hugh hurt me. It wasn’t fair.”

  “No, it wasn’t fair, but I understand. I love you Purity. You will always be my sister. We’ve been through a lot, but we’re survivors. You’re going to do great. Go get that money and don’t look back.”

  “You’ll get out of here to get what you’re due,” Purity told her. “I paid that lawyer half his fee and he’ll get the other half when you walk out of court a free woman.”

  “Don’t hold your breath. That jury will be full of men who think a woman with a gun is akin to Satan. The only place I’m going to be walking to is the gallows.”

  Purity shuddered at the words.

  Chapter Seven

  Justice’s trial had only lasted three days. Purity’s lawyer had done what he could, but just like Justice had predicted, the men in the jury looked at her as if she was some kind of succubus ready to drag them to Hell. The list of men she had killed in gunfights and her longer list of crimes committed hadn’t left them much room for mercy. When the judge’s gavel hit, reverberating through the court, Purity had burst into loud, uncontrollable sobbing. Several of the girls from Martha’s, women who respected Justice, had come to support the sisters. Their presence probably hadn’t helped matters. Justice had heard the rumble in the courtroom every day, when the strippers walked in wearing their corsets and miniskirts. The newspapers had had a field day with her, gleefully trying to convict her themselves. As far as Justice was concerned, those piranhas could fry in the depths of Hell with her. They were no better than vultures picking at her bones.

  She had shaken when the judge ordered her hanged by the neck until dead, but she was proud of the bravery she had shown, she hadn’t fainted. Several local church ladies groups in the area had come out to support her, begging the judge to lighten his sentence, claiming she was a poor stray lamb who had been led down a dark path. They hadn’t swayed the man either. He spoke about fairness and stated that he would have given a man the same punishment. The jury had recommended the death sentence and she saw the gleam in the supervisor’s eyes when the gavel had hit.

  She was only a little surprised that Grace hadn’t been at her sentencing. She wondered
if Grace had even known, or cared, that the trial had gone badly for her sister. Deep down she wondered if, for spite, Grace’s husband had paid the judge to see her hanged. Justice had always known her life would be short, but she had hoped her death would be quick too. That she would die quickly and bravely in a shoot out. Not like this, caged and humiliated in front of an entire town.

  Justice sat in her cell on the last night of her life. Purity hadn’t come to see her after the trial and it hurt her a little. She knew that her sister wasn’t handling the news well, and that Purity might not be able to face her, knowing that she suddenly had a clear expiration date. One of the church ladies had brought her a lovely picnic basket full of food. It was a sumptuous last meal and she was honestly grateful. Part of her had been hoping to find a key or a gun when she had bitten into the pie, but unfortunately, it was only full of delicious cherries. There was so much food that she had shared with the crazy man who was constantly shouting obscenities at her. He must have felt a bit sorry about her sentence because she noticed that after the trial he stuck to just talking to himself and left her alone.

  The sound of a motorcycle made her go to the cell window and gaze out into the moonlit night. Wistfully, she thought it almost sounded like her motorcycle. She pictured it rusting as the sand buried it, along with the derelict house. She would never have the joy and freedom of riding it again. She grasped the window bars and looked up into the twinkling night as a Zeppelin sailed majestically overhead. She wished she were a passenger on the airship, going about a safe, average life—that she had married Heath and talked him into going west, starting up a little farm, and staying out of trouble. She shook her head. That would have been a prison of another kind. She had lived her life without asking for permission, she had no real regrets. At least she wasn’t going to die a virgin. Steel might have betrayed her, but at least he had given her wondrous pleasure to dream about on her last night on Earth. She lay down on the hard metal bunk, closed her eyes and let herself conjure up Jeremiah’s face above her, whispering comfort to her as she drifted asleep.

  The rattling of her cell door woke her early the next morning. She sat up groggily and blinked.

  “I thought my execution was set for noon,” she said through her dry mouth. “This sure as hell can’t be noon.”

  “Your sister left you the clothes she thought you’d want to be buried in.”

  The jailer set down a bundle and left. Justice stood up and picked up a cup of stale water. She choked down the warm, foul liquid. At least it soothed her throat. When she opened the bundle, she smiled. Purity had sent her a message. Her sister must have her share of the money, because these were the clothes Justice had left at Jeremiah’s hide out. He must have decided to do the right thing by her and give Purity her money. A sense of peace filled her and she quickly donned her own clothes. Days in the stifling robbery dress had made her eager for britches and her own sleeveless corset. Putting on her trench coat and hat, she felt more like herself than she had in a month. She even had her own boots to wear. She hoped Purity would come to her, one last time, so she could thank her. Even after the years of strain, she felt the closeness and love as if they were children again. This one simple message had carried unquantifiable amounts of love. Everything would be all right. She wanted to tell her sister that she loved her, and ask her to find her motorcycle a good loving home. It was worth a pretty penny, and it was Purity’s to sell or learn to ride, whatever she wanted to do with it.

  Hours crept by and Justice watched the crowd assemble in their Sunday best, carrying blankets and picnic baskets. Hanging was good old-fashioned family entertainment. It made her a little ill to see the children there. She hoped that her death wouldn’t scare or traumatize any of them. Life was hard in Texas, but a hanging was always good to break up the monotony. Justice noticed a horseless carriage steam up the road. Those were scarce in Texas and this one was a beauty. She regretted that she would never have the opportunity to drive one. As it neared, she squinted at the driver and passenger.

  She felt ill. It was Grace. Her sister had come to see her hanged. She couldn’t look at the scene outside any longer. Emotion finally had its way and she sat down on the cot and began to cry. She would never be a wife. She would never be a mother. She would never have her own home to tend, or a little garden to grow vegetables and flowers. She would never have the chance to go straight and live honestly. Her life was over and it would end as a public spectacle, entertaining strangers and long lost family. She wiped the tears from her face with the rough blanket, provided courtesy of the good taxpayers of the state of Texas.

  As hurt and angry as she was, she only had one last request, to kiss Jeremiah Wallace one last passionate time.

  Just before noon, the jailer came to her cell. He looked a little green, she was probably the first woman he’d had a part in hanging. He opened the door and cuffed her hands. She noticed he didn’t cuff her legs, and was grateful he had either forgotten or didn’t have the balls for it. She could at least walk with her back straight and proud, unhindered by a ball and chain.

  The cuffs on her hands were loose and she noticed that she could probably slip her hands out if she wanted to. As tempting as an escape attempt was, she felt it would be shameful to be brought to her execution kicking and screaming. Besides, if she ran they would certainly catch her, and she would just be prolonging her terrible end.

  She held her chin high as she walked, sorry that no one had come to say his or her goodbyes. Justice would die as she had been living—alone and unconventionally. She was finally getting her punishment from God for the only cold-blooded murder she had ever committed, the one in the rectory, Chastity’s vengeance. Every other man she had killed had been killed in self-defense.

  As she walked, she thought of her sisters, and the nuns, and Heath, and even Jeremiah. She wished she could have thanked Heath again, and she wondered if he would ever find out how she died and why. For a moment, she spotted a man in the crowd and thought it was him. When she looked again the phantom was gone. Sighing, she knew her mind was trying to bring her comfort so near the end of her life.

  Her feet felt like lead as she stumbled, shaking, up the stairs. The noose hung, swaying in the breeze. Soon she would be what caused it to sway. She began to shake so hard her teeth rattled. The jailer put his hand on her arm, giving her a small smile. She saw the pity and understanding in his eyes and it made her want to burst into tears. Not wanting to give the good townspeople of Austin even more of a show, she suppressed the urge and stood, tall and proud, ready to face her eternal punishment after the Earthly one was finished. A priest began to pray, and she wondered why the priest hadn’t come to her cell to give her last rights, surely, the town’s folk didn’t consider her such a demon as to begrudge her such an important comfort. She said her own quick prayer and when the jailer ushered her onto the trap door she began to shake again. A man tried to put a bag over her head and she pushed it away. He tried again and she spoke firmly.

  “No, I can handle all of this, except for that.”

  He nodded and backed away. Another man came up behind her and pulled the noose over her head. She began to hyperventilate, losing her calm. She closed her eyes and fought for her control. They could take her life, but not her pride.

  Her eyes flew up at a loud commotion. The priest stopped praying and Justice saw him take a gun out of the Bible he was holding. What kind of priest used his Bible as a gun case?

  The man at the trap-door release moved to pull it, but the priest shot him in the arm, and he stumbled backwards and fell off the scaffolding. The priest winked at her and dove toward her, pulling the noose off her neck as she easily slipped her arms out of the cuffs. Free and uncertain, she glanced over at her saint turned savage. He grabbed her arm, jumped off the scaffolding, and hit the ground on a roll. Her body ached but at least it was still alive to ache.

  She caught sight of a man in the crowd and felt her heart stop. Jeremiah hadn’t abandoned her afte
r all. Another man rode up to him on a horse as gunfire erupted, and to her absolute shock she saw that it was Heath. Heath pulled Jeremiah up and the men raced off, drawing the gunfire away from her. How had they met to join forces in her rescue? Her answer came as the horseless carriage raced up to her. The back door opened and Purity pulled Justice and the priest, who clearly wasn’t a priest, inside the cab. Grace turned and smiled at her, but her husband pushed her down for safety as he sped off in the opposite direction of Heath and Jeremiah. Justice hunched down with the others, still shaking from the shock of her rescue and near death experience. She had stared the reaper in the face and lived, forever changed.

  Eventually, the pursuer’s gunfire died away as the horseless carriage tirelessly out ran them. When they were clear of danger, Ricardo spoke, “We made it boys and girls. Justice, meet Regan, my brother.”

  “Thank you Regan. You’re not really a priest are you?”

  “Call me a freelancer. I borrowed these from the town priest. He’ll wake up with one heck of a headache. And naked.”

  “I’d scold you, but right now I’m just glad as hell you did it.”

  They all laughed. Justice noticed Purity giving Regan a very absorbed look. She wondered if she’d soon be having another mobster for a brother-in-law.

  Long after dark, they pulled up to a ranch, miles from the city. Music was playing, lights were on, and the barn was full of people dancing. Seeing as she had just escaped imprisonment, it seemed a bit ballsy for Justice to attend a square dance, but Ricardo drove around to the back of the house away from the party. He led them inside a cellar where a group of men were sitting around a table playing cards, barely glancing at her. They all had tattoos on their hands. They were part of The Family as well. Justice felt instantly safe. No sheriffs here, that was certain.

  A door opened and Jeremiah and Heath stepped out. Justice ran to them, hugging them both at once.