The Marshal and The Madam

Chapter 01

After knocking on the front door, Connie Donovan heard a faint voice respond from inside the building.

Who's there?

Effie, it's Connie, can I come in?

When she heard the weak voice of Effie Hemus respond positively, Connie opened the door then stepped inside. In any setting, in any company, regardless of dress, Connie Donovan would be described as a beautiful woman. She had long light brown hair and piercing blue eyes. She also had a body that women envied, and men felt duty bound to admire. Yet she seemed to carry it without a sign of vanity.

On this particular morning, she'd left her place before dawn, and carefully made her way down Main Street's board walk, on her way to check on Effie Hemus. Effie's husband had been a dreadful sort of man, not only to her, but to all who knew him. It was said that when he died from a heart attack, not a single soul in town had looked upon his passing with regret. For no good reason, upon his passing, the town's hatred for Don Hemus seemed to have been directed towards his wife. Mrs. Hemus was in bad health, and frequently bedridden. Doctor Pittman stopped by regularly and attended to her medical needs, but there were only a couple of people willing to offer any assistance with her meals, laundry, and housecleaning.

No stranger to unfair treatment, Connie Donovan rose to the occasion, and made sure that Effie got the help she needed. This particular morning, she built a fire in the wood stove, then made breakfast and coffee for Effie. After a little light house cleaning, Connie gathered up what little laundry there was, then walked over to Mrs. Hemus's bedside.

Effie, I'll take the laundry to my place, then bring it back tomorrow. One of my girls will stop by in a couple of hours and help you with a bath and change of clothes. I've made arrangements with Laura at the cafe, to deliver your lunch and supper for the next few days. My intent is to stop by this evening for a few minutes, but if I'm not able, one of my girls will be here for sure.

Staring up at this woman she had shunned and made the subject of gossip so many times in the past, Effie pleaded.

Connie, why are you doing all this for me? Before my husband died, I doubt if I even spoke to you when we passed on the street.

Connie waved off the old woman's question. Effie, let's just say it needed doing. I'll talk to you later.

As she pulled the door closed behind her, Connie noticed that the first colors of dawn were beginning to show on the eastern horizon. The walk back to her place would now have to wait. Even though it was still too dark to see him, Connie knew that Marshal Rio Henry would be sitting in front of his office, waiting to enjoy the serenity of the early morning sunrise. She was not about to walk past, and disturb the all too brief period of peace and contentment, that she knew he treasured.

Connie understood just how much the lawman cherished that short period of peace and solitude, because she was herself, a lover of the early morning hour. It was her daily habit to rise and watch the sunrise. The shadowy image of the marshal, enjoying his early morning ritual, was often visible to her as she watched from her second story porch. It had occasionally crossed her mind to invite him to come to her place and share the joy of the sunrise together. Each time, she had quickly dismissed that notion. There were invisible boundaries between their occupations. To cross those lines would not only start the tongues wagging among the citizens of Hidden Creek, it might even cause Rio Henry to lose his job. Nor would she disturb him now. She would simply wait for the time when, as he did every morning, Rio would cross the street to have breakfast in The Tin Cup Cafe.

The Cafe was run by Laura Steen, an energetic and alluring girl in her early twenties. Laura was too cute to be described as being beautiful, and a bit too pretty to be called cute. Every time Connie watched Rio Henry enter the cafe, she couldn't help but feel a sting of jealousy. She knew it was silly on her part. She had no claim on the marshal, nor any realistic chance to ever have one.

Jealousy aside, there was no denying that in addition to being pretty, Laura was also the kind of person that everybody liked. Connie grudgingly admitted to herself that a single man would be foolish to pass up a chance to marry Laura, and she had not missed the look in the girl's eyes when Rio was around.

Connie watched as the marshal stood, then started making his way across the street. In admiration, she whispered quietly to herself. There goes a good man. As a lawman, Rio was experienced, capable and tough. Unlike some she had known, he was also fair and respectful. Never once when she passed him on the street, had Rio Henry ever averted his eyes, or pretended to not see her. There was always a tip of his hat, and a friendly greeting from his lips. A stranger in town might have thought the marshal was speaking to the wife of the mayor. For a woman like Connie, who was not used to getting such treatment in public, the marshal's respect meant more than anyone could have imagined.

In the few instances when he had been needed to take care of problems at her place of business, Marshal Henry had not arrived with preconceived ideas. Instead, he always calmly listened to everyone, then took action based on his honest determination of the facts. Almost anywhere you traveled in the west, there were stories about Rio Henry. Connie had heard most of them, and even allowing for exaggerations, it was pretty evident that as in her case, the trails that had eventually brought him to Hidden Creek had been long, dangerous, and often traveled out of necessity. As she watched Rio Henry step up on the boardwalk in front of the Tin Cup Cafe, Connie thought about how fate so often seemed to be the determining factor in so many people's lives.

Other than the loss of her parents, life had gone well for Laura Steen. She was not going to get rich running her cafe in a town like Hidden Creek, but it was a dependable living. Laura was well liked by most everyone in town, not to mention on the surrounding farms and ranches. With her cheerful personality and good looks, there were few, if any, single men for a hundred miles around, who had not at one time or another, entertained the thought of asking for her hand in marriage.

Connie was about the same age as Laura. She knew most men considered both of them to be attractive, but beyond that, fate had put Laura and herself on very different pathways. It was true that they both arrived in Hidden Creek out of desperation, but unlike Laura, desperation had paid Connie a visit, much earlier in life. After she watched Marshal Henry step inside the cafe and close the door behind him, Connie picked up Effie's laundry, then started making her way down the street. Not for the first time, as she walked back to her place, she allowed herself to imagine how her life might have been better, if only fate had dealt her a different hand.

What if, her family had not died back in Georgia when she was fourteen?

What if, she had not been taken in by a couple where the husband was more interested in his own needs, than he was in being a good father?

What if, she had been allowed to have a normal life, and had met Rio Henry as a dress shop owner, instead of in her role as the owner of the local bordello?

She shook her head then steeled herself against accepting emotions she had learned to keep distant. No. There were too many what ifs, in this line of thinking. Connie knew there was nothing she could do about the past. There was no sense in whining. She could only play the cards that life had dealt her.

Chapter 02.

An only child, Laura had been born on a farm near St. Louis. At the age of four, unable to make the payments on their farm, her parents had picked up and moved to Wyoming. There, ten miles outside of the town of Hidden Creek, they found ground to her father's liking, and set about the hard work of making a new farm.

For the next twelve years, Laura lived a simple life, helping her folks on the farm. The work was hard, and they were poor, but they never went hungry. Then one day, while she was out trying to find a wandering milk cow, a Shoshone raiding party burned their home and killed her folks. Laura heard the Indians attack, but she was unarmed, and too far away to help her folks. She heard the sound of her father's rifle fire one time, but no more. When she saw the flames rising from her home, Laura fell to her knees, for she knew her folks must be dead. Realizing this was not the time to be controlled by grief, Laura forced herself to her feet, then hurried to a nearby creek. There she crawled deep inside a stand of thick brush. Ignoring the cuts and bruises she had suffered while frantically trying to hide from the Indians, Laura bit her lips to fight back her sorrow and fears. Having heard awful stories about what sometimes happened to captives taken by the Indians, Laura said a silent prayer that she might be killed outright, rather than be taken prisoner by the Indians.

After waiting for a half hour or more of silence to pass, she carefully left the brush, then eased her head over the ridge of the creek bank, in order to get a look at what used to be her home. There was no sign of the Indians. Still, she had heard stories about Indians leaving after an attack, then returning to catch people who might have come to help. For that reason, as tears streamed down her face, Laura waited at least another half hour before she left the creek, and made her way back to what had once been her home.

The house and barn were still burning when Laura arrived. The cow she had been chasing, had returned on his own. The Shoshone had killed the animal, and taken the best cuts of meat before leaving. A cold chill went down Laura's back as she realized that had that cow not run off, she would almost certainly now be lying dead next to her parents, or more likely, would now be a captive, completely at the mercy of the Indians.

Laura could see what she believed to be the remains of her parents inside what little remained of their cabin, but the fire was still too hot to be able to reach their bodies. Because she had no way of burying her parents, the fire was almost a blessing of sorts. By the time the fires died out completely, the wild animals wouldn't bother what was left of their bodies.

With her mother and father dead, and her home in ashes, there was nothing for Laura to do, but to walk to town. She knew that some of the men from town would return and help her find and bury the charred bodies of her folks. After that, she would have little choice but to move to town. It was a frightening move, because for the first time in her life, she didn't have a place to live, or know where her next meal might be coming from.

Because the Shoshone had taken their horse and two mules after killing her parents, Laura had no choice but to make the ten mile journey to town on foot. Her only shoes had been lost in the fire, leaving her no choice but to make the journey walking barefoot. Not that going without shoes was a new experience for her. Other than during winter, just about the only time Laura wore shoes, was when they went to town, or to church. Still, she had never needed to walk barefoot for more than a few miles at a time. A ten mile trek was going to be both difficult and painful.

The smoldering remnants of her home place were almost completely out of sight, when the sound of a dead tree limb crashing to the ground, caused Laura to rush into the woods on the opposite side of the road, where she cowered behind a large Oak tree. Even though Laura soon realized that her dash to seek protection had not been necessary, nearly half an hour passed before she managed to find the courage to leave the woods, and resume her somber journey to the town of Hidden Creek.

Fox Valley was the halfway point to town. Laura was halfway across the three mile expanse of the valley, when her ears picked up what she believed to be the moaning of a man in pain. The sound was coming from the brush beneath a stand of cotton wood trees not far from the bank of Osage Creek. According to Laura's father, since the territory of Wyoming was much farther west than the long established home of the Osage Indians, the reason behind the naming of the creek had remained an unanswered question around the town of Hidden Creek. Several theories had been offered, but each had in time, proven to be at the least, highly unlikely.

With the sound of her father's final rifle shot, still fresh in Laura's ears she faced the possibility that the sounds of suffering might be coming from a wounded Shoshone warrior. He might even have been shot by her father before he was killed himself. But, based on what she had heard about the Indians from listening to her father, and his friends, it seemed doubtful that with no immediate pursuit to worry about, the Indians would have abandoned one of their warriors.

Despite the possible danger involved, Laura felt compelled to find the man who sounded to be in terrible pain. After all, the injured or wounded man, might be one of the farmers or cowboys she had danced with in one of the church socials. After taking a deep breath, she began inching as silently as possible toward the area where she believed the man must be hiding. Twice, the moaning stopped, each time forcing Laura to sit still and listen until he began reacting to his pain again.

Not until she was within a few feet of Osage Creek, was Laura able to see the outline of a man's head and shoulders. After working her way through the dense brush, she found an older white man lying under a tree with an arrow in his chest. He had been scalped and left for dead. At the moment, the old man was still breathing, but to Laura, he certainly seemed to be very close to death. She remembered seeing her father speak to this man in town on a couple of occasions. His name, as best she could recall, was Thomas Finch. According to her father, Finch was a prospector who had come to Wyoming in search of gold.

Lightly touching the man's cheek with her fingers, Laura whispered, Listen, I must leave you for a few minutes, but don't worry. I'll be back soon. When Finch showed no sign of having heard her words, Laura turned, then moved quickly to the creek. Once there, she ripped out a bottom section of her dress, then soaked the material in the slow moving creek water.

After returning to the side of the old man, Laura used her improvised wash cloth to clean around the arrow in his chest, then did what she could to clean around