The Law and Miss Penny

by Sharon Ihle

  A sudden, sharp pain shot through Cain's head. He stopped in his tracks, his boots scraping against the boardwalk in front of the livery. At almost the same moment Virginia's name had sprung into his thoughts, the image of the mysterious blond woman had come to mind. Was she Virginia? If so, what part had she played in his life before Mariah?

  Sick to think what the memories might mean, Cain closed his eyes and mind against the answers—answers he now knew were there waiting for him to call them up, waiting patiently like old friends... or bitter, dangerous enemies. Yes, finally he knew something, and knew it without question. If he wanted to, he had it within his grasp to figure out who and what he was. If he wanted to.

  "Cain—is something wrong?"

  He could feel Mariah tugging at his sleeve, saw that she was worried about him, but he couldn't speak or think past the stunning revelations in his mind. He felt helpless—the day he was born he hadn't been this helpless—and even worse... scared. Oh, but he was scared. What would Mariah do if she knew what he'd discovered? How would she react? Would she realize, as he did, that those answers might just mean the end of what they had together?

  The end of his time with Mariah. No, no. He couldn't think of it. He wouldn't. If Cain didn't know another thing right then, he did realize that he'd never been happier in his life than he was with her. Never.

  "Cain, please," Mariah said, her voice quivering. "What's wrong? You're making me nervous."

  He had to touch her, had to feel that which was real to him. Then he would be himself again. Cain put his arms around Mariah, hugging her tight for a long moment, propriety be damned. When he released her, his voice was hoarse as he said, "I'm all right. I just felt a little nauseous for a minute."

  "You're sick?" Her hand automatically went to his forehead. His skin was cool—almost too cool. "The store is on the corner of Thirteenth Street just a few feet ahead, darling. Do you feel well enough to go on, or would you rather go back to the hotel?"

  "I'm fine." He assured her by wrapping his arm around her waist and coaxing her forward. "Let's go on."

  But as far as Mariah could see, Cain looked anything but fine. He was unnaturally pale, and a network of tiny wrinkles she'd never seen before webbed the corners of his eyes and his mouth. The cold finger at the back of her neck grew icy, insistent, but Mariah refused to acknowledge it. She centered her thoughts on Cain.

  As they stepped down from the boardwalk to cross the alley, Mariah heard the chatter of youngsters. She glanced in the direction of the voices, and saw that two young girls were playing jack-straws in the dirt.

  One of them, a child of around five who lacked her front teeth but more than made up for the deficit with a riot of flaming red curls, looked up at Cain and broke into a huge grin. "Hi, Daddy."

  Mariah's first impulse was to laugh, but she put her palm over her mouth and shifted her attention to the second youngster, a girl of around seven who was busy chiding the little redhead.

  "Don't pay any attention to Amelia," said the younger girl's friend. "She thinks every man she sees is her daddy!"

  "Do not."

  "Do too."

  And so the conversation continued, until Mariah had to turn away to release her laughter. She glanced around to see how Cain was taking to "instant fatherhood," only to discover that he was no longer beside her. When she turned all the way around, she saw that he was back up on the boardwalk, leaning against the post with both hands pressed against his temples. He looked as if he was about to pass out.

  Mariah rushed to his side. "Oh, Cain. You are sick. Let's go find a doctor."

  He heard her voice, but it seemed far, far away, belonged to another lifetime... another woman. The image of something bright burned into his brain, and as it came into focus, he realized that it was the badge of a United States marshal. The badge of Morgan Slater. His badge.

  "Cain, please—you're scaring me." Mariah grabbed the sleeve of his shirt, tugging at it, and his hands fell away from his face. He straightened his spine, but continued to use the post for support.

  She expected to see that he'd gone even paler, to perhaps find a measure of pain in his expression, but the haggard, hateful features that looked on her instead turned that icy finger at her neck into a hand. And then wrapped it around her throat.

  His fury bigger than both of them, he clenched his fists at his sides, and said, "God in heaven, Mariah. How could you have done this to me?"

  Her world went black, filling with terrible gloom. She took a backward step, her voice quivering. "Done what?"

  More images now, rolling though his mind like some hideous fireball. The medicine show. Bucksnort. This band of lying, thieving—

  "What's wrong?" Tears built up in her throat, making her voice wobbly. "Please, Cain. What's happened?"

  "Cain? Who the hell is that?"

  "Oh, no." Mariah took a few more backward steps, this time stumbling and nearly falling. "Oh... God."

  "You life, you... you bitch!"lied to me." His features were black with rage. "You stole my

  "Oh, but I never meant—"

  Morgan wrapped his strong fingers around her arms, hauling her up close. "What in God's name were you thinking? How could you have done this to me?"

  "Please—please let me go. You're hurting me."

  Her voice was pitiful, a wail, but still Morgan's hands squeezed. His rage knew no bounds. He wanted to shake her, crush the very life from her lying, cheating body, and most frightening and irrational of all... kiss her until she begged for mercy.

  Even more furious now—with himself as well as her—Morgan abruptly released Mariah and flung her away from him. "Get out of my sight."

  She didn't move. Tears rolled down her cheeks and her chin quivered, but she made no move to save herself.

  Morgan seethed with anger. He couldn't deal with her now, not with her betrayal, and not with his rage over that terrible treachery. Even worse, he could no longer trust himself, didn't know what he might be capable of doing to her at that moment.

  Protecting them both the only way he could, Morgan advanced on Mariah, his voice harsh, gritty. "If you care just a little bit about your worthless hide, even this much"—he held two of his shaking fingers not a quarter of an inch apart, and stuck them in her face—"do us both a favor and run. Do it now. Run, damn it. Run."

  Tears pouring down her face, Mariah whirled around and flew along the boardwalk, her new hat flying off her head to roll end over end along the muddy street, black hair tumbling down over her shoulders, streaming out behind her like the silken tails of a child's kite.

  Morgan didn't allow himself the satisfaction of watching her flight for long. He had other business to tend to, another life to remember. First he needed to calm down, to bank this raging inferno inside, but how? If he were a drinking man, he'd have fortified himself; a smoker, he'd have rolled a cigarette. But he was a—hell, he didn't know who or what he was anymore.

  He took several long, cool breaths, pumping oxygen into his overheated system. Then finally, slowly, he turned on his heel and woodenly marched back to the alley.

  Morgan stood there staring at the children for several long moments, watching them play their game as he continued to calm himself, struggling at the same time to fit the pieces of his missing life together. Then, when he was finally ready, he hunkered down in front of the little red-haired girl.

  Arms outstretched, Morgan quietly said, "Hi, Amelia. Come say hello to your daddy."

  Chapter 16

  Her legs were shaking so badly, Mariah didn't know how she managed to move, much less run, but she made it to the end of the block and turned onto Twelfth Street. She stood there trembling like a cornered rabbit for a few moments, gathering her wits, and then finally dared a peek down the boardwalk to where she'd left Cain.

  He was kneeling in the alley, his arms wrapped around the little red-haired girl. Before Mariah could grasp the full significance of this display, he rose and lifted the girl onto his broad shoulders. Then
he headed up Thirteenth Street, away from where Mariah was huddled in the shadow of the livery. Unable to stop herself, she began to follow them.

  Oblivious of the shoppers she stumbled across, of the censuring gasps from the fine ladies of Silverton as they noticed her dishevelment, Mariah dashed to the corner of Thirteenth and Greene, and peeked around the building to see Cain approaching a little white house at the end of the block. It was a relatively plain home, no gingerbread at the windows or gables, and yet the yard was well- tended, the walkway swept and tidy—clearly the dominion of a woman.

  Mariah's heart slowed to a dull thud in her breast, and then turned to stone as the door to that orderly little home opened. She caught a glimpse of a slight blond woman—one who looked a great deal like the photograph she'd seen in Cain's watchcase. After exchanging a brief embrace with the woman, Cain carried the little girl across the threshold. Then the house swallowed him up, taking him away from Mariah. Forever.

  * * *

  Oda had just folded the repaired costume and set it aside, when the door to her room burst open.

  "Oh, Mother." The words came out on a sob. "It's happened."

  She knew. Somewhere in her motherly breast, Oda knew exactly what had happened, but when she crossed the room and closed the door behind her trembling daughter, she just glanced at her and calmly asked, "What happened, baby? Are you all right?"

  "Oh, I'm fine," she said sarcastically. "Just fine." The dam burst then, robbing Mariah of the ability to speak or even think. Crumbling inside, she flung herself toward her mother's bed and threw herself upon the mattress.

  Because she hated confrontations of any kind, Oda's first impulse was to run and get Zack. He would know how to calm their hysterical girl better than she could. She moved toward the door, but at the last second changed her mind. She was certain that Cain had had at least a little to do with Mariah's collapse, and Zack wouldn't know what to do or say to help his daughter, short of going after the marshal with his shotgun.

  Numbly going about the task herself, Oda dragged a spindle-backed chair up beside the bed and waited until Mariah's sobs had subsided a little before she spoke. "What is it, baby? Did Cain's memory come back?"

  "He... knows." Her voice was a shattered whisper, garbled with tears. "Cain knows... everything."

  "I expect he's pretty upset about it, too, huh?"

  "Upset?" She laughed, the sound frantic, heart- wrenching. "He was definitely upset, to say the least."

  "Well..." Oda sighed heavily. "It ain't like we weren't expecting it, you know."

  "Oh, Mother, you don't know the half of it." She began weeping again, her throat and heart aching so badly, she expected to split apart at any moment. "There's a child," she said, picturing the little red- haired girl.

  "Did you say there's a..." Oda almost strangled trying to get the word out. "a... child?"

  "Yes—yes." Mariah's sobs increased, the flow so fierce, she had to bury her face in the pillow to keep from drowning in tears.

  "Oh, Lord." Oda was crying now, talking more to herself than her daughter. "I knew this would happen. I knew it the minute you set eyes on that good-for-nothing lawman. Saw it every time you looked google-eyed at him, too."

  She thought back to the night she'd told her daughter about her own conception, to Mariah's stiff formality toward her ever since that night, and then hurled a few of Mariah's own words back in her face. "Answer me this, young lady—do you hate it? Do you hate that baby the way you think I hated you?"

  As the meaning of Oda's words finally sank in, Mariah slowly lifted her head from the pillow and stared at her mother as if seeing her for the first time. "You think that I'm going to have... Cain's baby?"

  Oda blushed as her gaze fell to Mariah's lap. "Ain't you?"

  "No." But she suddenly wished she was, and knew one other, even more important thing: If she were carrying Cain's child, she'd love it more than life itself. Mariah swung her legs over the side of the mattress and threw her arms around her mother. "I'm sorry. I'm so very, very sorry about the things I said to you back in Durango."

  Oda, none too good at this emotional business, tried to get away with a few pats to Mariah's back, but that brief contact was her undoing. She wrapped her stubby arms around her daughter's shoulders, squeezing her tight, embracing her the way she hadn't done since Mariah was a small child.

  "I told you that I never hated you, girl, and I meant it. I guess now you understand what I was saying." Speaking through her tears, Oda wiped her nose and went on. "I ain't gonna hate that babe of yours, neither. I'm a Penny now, not a Fitzgerald. You and your baby are staying with this family for the rest of your life, if'n you take a notion that's what you want."

  Both laughing and weeping, Mariah released her mother and held her at arm's length. "As far as I can tell, I'm not in a family way, but knowing how you'd feel if I was, knowing that you'd..." Mariah started to cry again. "The child I was telling you about was in the alley, a little girl we happened across on the way to the store. I think she might be Cain's daughter."

  "Oh... goodness."

  Mariah swallowed her tears, determined to keep them down. "That was almost as big a shock as the rest. He nearly went crazy when he remembered who he was, yelling at me, calling me names." She closed her mind and ears to the memory.

  Oda, still seeking ways to comfort her, said, "We knew this might happen. We knew anything was possible when we decided to keep the marshal with us. That's why I didn't want you to fall in love with him."

  "I know." Mariah hung her head. "I just never thought it would hurt so much to lose him. I never thought... I guess I somehow hoped that he'd never remember who he was, that he'd only have memories of me." She collapsed against the flattened pillow, awash in fresh tears despite her determination to keep them inside.

  Because she didn't know of any other way to help at this point, Oda reached over and patted Mariah's back for several minutes. Finally her daughter's tears ebbed and her sobs became intermittent, punctuated by miserable little hiccups. Feeling that the worst was over, Oda sat back in her chair. Then someone knocked at the door.

  Her mothering instincts stronger than ever, she leapt to her feet. "You stay put, baby. I'll go get rid of whoever that is." When she opened the door, Oda knew in an instant that the worst had only begun—and that there'd be no easy way to get rid of the angry lawman whose bulk filled the entryway.

  "Excuse me for disturbing you, ma'am," Morgan said, his tone bitter. "I'll try not to take more than a moment of your time. May I come in?" The question was purely rhetorical, for Morgan had no intention of giving her a choice. He pushed the door open, and after stepping past the speechless woman, slammed it to a close.

  The lawman's fury entered the room with him, and Oda bristled in self-defense. She saw it all in his eyes: the frustration, the rage, the burning need for vengeance. Preparing herself for the fight, a mother bear protecting her cub, she stretched to her full five feet and issued a warning. "You so much as lay one finger on me or Mariah, and we'll scream bloody murder so damn loud, even the sheriff down in Durango will hear us."

  Morgan almost laughed. He didn't. He snarled instead as he said, "Don't worry. I have no intention of touching either of you." His gaze flickered briefly to where Mariah still lay on the bed. She had yet to lift her head or acknowledge his presence. "I've come for my things."

  "Your... things?"

  Morgan glowered at her. "Yes, Oda. You know what I want: my badge, my guns, my wallet. Those will do for starters, until I can remember what else your thieving family might have stolen off of me."

  Oda puffed up her bosom. "You got no call—"

  "Save your breath," he said deliberately, the warning unmistakable. "Just get my things, and get them now. You're in enough trouble as it is without adding any more charges to the list."

  Swallowing hard, Oda glanced at the bed. Mariah was sitting on the edge of the mattress now, busy drying her tears. She looked pale, defenseless, utterly vulnerable.
"Your things ain't here. They're in the supply cart. I can't leave Mariah alone right now, and she's—"

  "I'd be happy to stay here with her, ma'am. In fact, I have a few questions for her." Before Oda could voice her concern, Morgan saw it in her eyes. "I'm the law, remember? I didn't come here to hurt anyone. I came here for a little justice—not that your family knows the meaning of the word. Now go get my things."

  Oda remained uneasy. How could they ever have been so foolish as to cross a man such as this? Her gaze darted to Mariah and she raised her eyebrows.

  "It's all right, Mother." Mariah's voice was weary, resigned. "Go ahead. I'll be all right."

  Oda hardened her expression as her gaze shifted back to the lawman. She marched over to the door and opened it, but before going through it, she reached into her dress pocket and withdrew the silver cigar case he had given her back in Durango. Looking over her shoulder, her blue eyes narrowed, she dropped the case on a nearby dresser.

  Before she left, Oda also dropped one final warning. "If you hurt that girl in any way while I'm gone, you bastard, you won't find a rock big enough to crawl under to get safe from me." Then she slammed the door behind her.

  "Amazing," Morgan said with a shake of his head. He started toward Mariah. "I have to hand it to this family: You're the most amazing bunch of liars and thieves I've run across in a long time. Your mother is actually indignant—threatening me, for heaven's sake. Why, I could haul her and the lot of you off to jail on so many charges, not a one of you would ever see the light of day again."

  Mariah sighed heavily, but had no words to defend either herself or her parents.

  He stood at the foot of the bed, his fingers gripping the bedpost. "If it wouldn't trouble you too much," he began, venom tipping each word, "I'd like to know why in the hell you didn't tell me who I was right after the accident."

  His wrath washed over her like a lava spill, shrinking her body, her worth, and Mariah had to get up from the bed to feel whole again. Smoothing her hair as she walked over to the window, she made a silent vow to be truthful with him from here on out—for the sake of her own dignity, if not his. "You cost us better than one hundred dollars in sales. So we decided to make it up with your labor. Besides, we were afraid you'd make us take you back to Santa Fe for medical attention if we told you who you were. A delay like that would have ruined our whole show season."