Chapter Two:
"Good morning, Dolly," she heard her father, Andy, say from the couch. She walked over and leaned on the back of said furniture. "Good morning, Daddy. Why are you guys here?"
Falling asleep on her very comfortable couch, he said, "Your mother wanted to visit and convince you to move back to Utah."
"I see..." she muttered. "Good night, Daddy." Smiling, she went upstairs, searching for her mother. She found her in the master bedroom, straightening up. "Mama! What're you doing?" she asked, taking her stuffed bear from her mom.
"How can you live in such a mess?" Alison Barham asked, rearranging the do- dads cluttering Kelly's desktop. "It's amazing how you can work as a publisher like this!"
"Mama, it's all right; you don't need to clean my room," Kelly said, ushering Alison to the door. "Go downstairs and wait with Daddy so I can change."
"Kelly," Alison started, stopping in the doorway. She looked at her oldest child and said with sunlight glinting off her silver glasses. "Why do you insist on living here? Why won't you move back to Utah?"
"Because, mother," Kelly answered irritated. "I can afford this. I'm happy; I'm safe... And I might even be in love again. Not that you care." She put her teddy bear back on its shelf.
Mrs. Barham quirked an eyebrow. "Really. Who is he?"
Kelly had busied herself with fixing her do-dads. "Oh, you wouldn't like him," she said lightly.
"Try me."
The publisher glanced at her mother and said, "You blame the death of my daughter on him, so I didn't—"
Alison was livid. "How dare you insult your daughter's memory in such a manner! Have you no common sense?? That man's a murderer!"
Kelly whirled on her. "I'll have you know this: the man in the other vehicle was Greg Carstairs, not Morton Rainey! And I have plenty of common sense; I know what I'm doing! I have felt not one prompting to leave Maine, mother! If I did, I would've moved by now! Don't go through that door; so help me, Lord!" She had her finger bearing down on Alison. Her mother's hand was on the doorknob of the small door by the dresser leading to Ashley's room. Alison took her hand off the handle and Kelly took a few deep breaths. "I'm sorry. That goes to Ashley's room and I haven't let anyone in there since... that day..."
"I understand, Kelly," Alison said, crossing to her. "But seriously, child, I don't want you dating an insane murderer."
Kelly backed away and sang:
"Stop telling me what to do. Don't treat me like a child of two. I know that you want what's best. But, mother, please. Give it a rest! Stop! Don't! No! Please! Stop! Don't! No! Please! Stop! Don't! No! Please! Mama, I'm a big girl now! Once upon a time when I was just a kid, You never let me do just what the older kids did. But lose that laundry list of what you won't allow 'Cause, mama, I'm a big girl now! Once upon a time I used to play with toys. But now I'd rather play around with [grown-up] boys. So, if I get a hickey, please don't have a cow! 'Cause, mama, I'm a big girl now! Ma, I gotta tell you that without a doubt I get my best dancing lessons from you! You're the one who taught me how to 'twist and shout' Because you shout non-stop and you're so twisted, too! Wo-oh-oh-oh-oh Once I used to fidget 'cause I just stayed home. But now I'm just like Gidget and I gotta get to Rome! So say, arrivederci! Toodle-loo! And ciao! 'Cause, mama, I'm a big girl now! Stop! Don't! No! Please! Stop! Don't! No! Please! Stop! Don't! No! Please! Mama, I'm a big girl now! Once upon a time I was a shy young thing Could barely walk and talk so much as dance and sing! But let me hit that stage, I wanna take my bow! 'Cause, mama, I'm a big girl now! Wo-oh-oh-oh-oh Once upon a time I used to dress up 'Ken' But now that I'm a woman, I like bigger men. And I don't need a Barbie doll to show me how. 'Cause, mama, I'm a big girl now! Ma, you always taught me what was right from wrong. And now I just wanna give a try! Mama, I've been in the nest for far too long So please give a push and, mama, watch me fly! Watch me fly! Hey, mama, say, mama. Someday I will meet a man you won't condemn. And we will have some kids and you can torture them. But let me be a star before I take that vow. 'Cause, mama, I'm a big girl now! Oh-oh-oh Mama, I'm a big girl now. Hey-hey-hey Mama, I'm a big girl now! Stop! Don't! No! Please! Stop! Don't! No! Please! Stop! Don't! No! Please! Mama, I'm a big girl now!"
Alison stared at Kelly, surprised, "All right... When did you learn that one?"
Kelly pulled her hair into a ponytail and answered, "Last spring, I was the vocal coach for the high school's production of 'Hairspray' for their senior play." She changed out of her skirt and into her dance slacks while hiding behind the oriental-style dressing screen.
"Good morning, Baltimore! There's the Flasher who lives next-door! And the bum on his barroom stool! They wish me luck on my way to school. Good morning, Baltimore! And someday when I take to the floor, The world's gonna wake up and see: Baltimore and me!"
"Kelly, stop singing," she heard her dad say from the doorway. Kelly shut her mouth and glanced in that direction. Andy had never told her to stop singing without a reason, so she waited for him to continue. "There's a scruffy looking man who wants to speak with you." He moved aside and Morton entered the room, taking in the disorganization.
"I wasn't expecting you," Kelly said, somewhat startled. "What did you need?"
Morton smiled and asked, "Is it typical of a publisher to keep the public access rooms of their house orderly, but their bedrooms a wreck?"
Alison and Andy looked confused, but Kelly merely smiled. "I need at least one room of disorder to function. I ask again: what do you need?"
He opened his mouth to answer, but Andy cut him off, "Kelly, who is this character?"
Kelly smiled at her idiocy and said, "Oh, duh. Wake up, Kelly. This is my mom and dad, Alison and Andy Barham. Mama, Daddy, this my neighbor, Morton Rainey."
Alison paled and left quickly. Andy smiled, held out his hand and said, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Rainey. I've read all your works. I'm a big fan." He and the author shook hands. "You never told me he was your neighbor, Dolly." He was smiling at her, so Kelly knew he wasn't mad.
She walked over and, letting Morton take her hand, said, "I'm sorry, Daddy, I must have forgotten... Have you heard of Diary of His FallenAngel yet?"
Andy thought for a moment. "It's your new book, isn't it? I heard a rumor about it," he said to Morton.
"It is," the writer said, shooting Kelly a look. "Where'd you stash the manuscript, Kell?"
"Um... ba, ba, ba..." Kelly belly-flopped onto the bed and rummaged through the nightstand drawer. "Not here..." she checked under the bed. "I found the cat. Bump, get out of there!" Bump ran out of the room. Kelly sat up and thought. "Hmmm... Ah!" Her face lit up and she stuck her hand under the pillow, pulling out the manuscript. "Here it is!" She held it out. "Can he read some, Mort? Just a small preview?"
Mort shrugged. "Sure. Give him the first flash-back or something."
Kelly flipped through the manuscript and handed the pages to her father, saying, "This is my favorite part. From here... to here."
I had just walked out of the saloon I was currently working in. There were some rough types present during my shift, so I wasn't in the most pleasant of all moods. My mind was everywhere but on the shift I had just completed, serving drinks to gambling drunkards.
As I walked past the marshal's office, on my way home, I heard shouting behind me. I turned to see who it was. If I didn't recognize either man in the scuffle, I would have gone home. But, I thought it was my father and the dangerous man, John Ringo, who were arguing.
"Papaw? Is that you?" I called, hoping beyond all hope that it wasn't really my dearest friends in the heated argument. I admit now that John Ringo and I had known each other since 1867 and were fairly good friends. My parents hated Ringo and mine friendship as he was reported to be an adolescent drunk and juvenile delinquent, two accusations, which he claimed, had no evidence to prove their truth.
The marshal walked out of his office at the sound of my voice, "Miss Cassidy! You should be at home. No lady should be walking the streets of this town alone. Especially at night!"
"Marshal, can you tell me if that's my father arguing with Johnny Ringo, please?"
The marshal peered down the street for a minute then said, "Yes, I do believe it is old Seamus Cassidy. Do you want me to break it up?"
"If you would, please," I begged, following him quickly down the street.
"What are you doing out this late, anyways, Miss Cassidy?"
"I just got off work at the saloon," I said, as we ran down the sidewalk and stopped outside a different saloon that I had never been inside before.
The two men were quarrelling at the top of their voices. I couldn't understand a word they were saying, only that they were furious with each other.
"That's it, gents, break it up!" the marshal called as walked over to pull them apart.
"Git away from me!" Johnny Ringo screamed, then pulled out his .45 caliber. I could tell he was in a drunken rage and had asked my father the question again. I didn't know what the question was, and didn't care to know, actually.
Now, my father never was really quick with his pistol. Even I had a faster gun hand, and I'm a woman. When Papaw saw Ringo with his gun drawn, I was shocked to see he made a grab for his own.
"Papaw! No, don't!" I screamed as my father pulled out his weapon.
I ran to place myself between Papaw and Johnny Ringo. Knowing I was putting my life on the line, I stood firmly between the two fighting men. I also knew Johnny Ringo. If he weren't such a louse, he was really a gentleman at heart, having known him, as I said before, for a little over six years. Johnny would never shoot a woman, lady or no.
"Git yerself outta my way, Cassidy!" he yelled at me, proving my thought about his compassion for the female sex true.
"Johnny Ringo, if you think for one second, I would allow you to hurt my Papaw, you're dead wrong!" I said to the extremely angered Cowboy. He knew I meant business. In all the years we had known each other, we had never gotten into the smallest argument, and for me to raise my voice to him was almost like shooting him in the head.
"Now, lass, don't be foolish. His quarrel is with me, not you. Go on home, Ciara," my father tried pushing me aside. I wouldn't budge, even in the slightest.
"He's right, Miss Cassidy. Come on, come here," the marshal said, holding out his hand for mine.
I didn't move. I didn't blink. I just stared at Johnny Ringo. He stared right back. We could go on like this for hours. It was just another staring contest to me. I could see the wheels in his head turning, thinking of what he'd rather being than be in this argument. It made me almost sick to think about it.
"You'd better listen to them, girl. I'd hate to think of what would happen should my trigger finger slip," Ringo said, winking at me, and odd glint in his eye.
"You haven't even cocked it, Johnny. Don't play mind games with me; you know how I hate it. C'mon, gents just give your pistols to the good marshal and we'll all go home. Let's not have any blood on the streets of our town. Please, Papaw, Johnny," I said, earnestly trying to convince them to give up their fight.
"You know what, Cass? You're right. You're absolutely right. Here yeh go, marshal. I'll pick it up in the morning," Ringo said, handing his pistol to the marshal and smiling at me, making me feel uncomfortable.
"Papaw?"
Papaw looked at his pistol for a second, then, under my arm, he shot at Ringo. A look of fury crossed Johnny's face so that it frightened me. He shoved me aside and shot my father in the chest. I fell to the ground in time to see Papaw's face twist in pain and hear his scream of anguish.
"Papaw!!"
"John Ringo, you're under arrest!"
"What're you talkin' about, marshal? It was a fair fight. We was legal," Ringo said, justifying his action.
I crawled over to my father who lay dying in the street. "Papaw? Papaw, are you... Saints preserve us..."
The wound was obviously fatal. I couldn't believe I would lose my beloved father that way. I brushed some of his graying hair from his face and looked, for the final time, into the eyes of the only member of y family who believed I was innocent of all charges against me.
"T-take my... My pistol, sweetheart... An' my knife... I know I can trust you to keep and take proper care of... Of them... Listen to me, Ciara..." Papaw was struggling beyond all belief to speak these last words to me, and it hurt my heart to hear him do so.
"Papaw, shh. Don't speak. Save your energy—"
"Eilis Ciara Cassidy... Listen... To your father's... Dying words... Take care of yourself, now... I can't help... Protect you anymore..."
"Papaw, no. Don't—"
"I... I love you... Ciara..." With these final words, my father faded.
"Papaw!! No, Papaw, don't leave me... Please! Papaw..." I broke down in tears as the marshal hoisted me to my feet, and then escorted me into the strange saloon. I noticed Johnny Ringo had disappeared by then.
"Marshal, what's going on? Cassidy? I'd thought she be in bed by this time!" Richard Stewart, an acquaintance of mine, said, getting me a chair.
"Ringo just killed her father, Richard. Keep her here while I take care of things. Thank you," the marshal said, handing Richard my father's pistol.
"Please tell me you didn't see Ringo shoot him, Cassidy. That's not something girls like you should be witnessin'," Richard said, setting Papaw's pistol on the table next to me.
I looked at the gun, shining in the lamplight. I examined the gleaming finish, the curve of the trigger, the straight barrel. Ever so slowly, so as not attract Richard's attention, I reached for the beautiful weapon. Upon seizing it, I walked quietly out of the saloon and to my father's body, still lying in the street, a sheet pulled over him, nothing more. Kneeling down next to my once living father, I pulled the knife out of its sheath at his belt. The two deadly weapons in my hands, I began walking home once more.
As I walked, I was a shell, an emotionless being. I passed my mother and two sisters by an empty lot. Only the youngest, Keely, stopped me.
"Cassidy, what happened? Mother's most upset!"
I ignored the eight-year-old girl and continued walking.
"Cassidy, please! Tell me!" she called after me.
I turned then. "What do you want me to say, Keely? The truth? It's more horrible than I could ever imagine it could ever have been! Papaw's dead, Keely! Okay? There, I told you. Are you happy now? You'd best get on home, unless you want to see what I've seen!" I screamed at my dear little sister, as I never had done before.
She burst into tears, "I don't believe you! How could you make up such horrible lies about father? I hate you!" I watched the child run towards the saloon, where she had seen my mother disappear. Keely never forgave me of that.
"Well, ain't this a sad evening for Miss Cassidy," the cold voice of Johnny Ringo said behind me, chilling me to the bone.
I whipped around to face him. "How could you do this to our family? You would leave four defenseless women alone in a town like Burnet?"
"You're hardly defenseless, Cass."
"But you would leave me without my defender? I thought you called yourself my friend!" I said. "Why'd you do it?"
He shrugged and took a few steps towards me into the light from the street lamps. His rugged features caught and held the firelight. I could see an odd glimmer in his unfathomable blue eyes that gave me horrible goose flesh.
"I once thought that if someone could give you some manners and clean you up a bit, you'd make a right nice gentleman. I suppose you proved me wrong better than anyone ever could tonight, didn't you?"
"Perhaps."
Johnny stopped so close to me that I could smell the dusty, travel scent on his clothes.
"Do you wanna know why I killed him, Cass? Hmm?" he asked in a whisper that made me uneasy. A difficult thing to do, I'm most comfortable around Johnny, but that time...
"Not really," I said coldly, stepping away from him and into the shadows of the empty lot.
He followed me and turned me to face him. Gently brushing a lock of my hair from my face, he looked into my eyes. I saw, in his eyes, a disturbing pain that I had never seen there before. I've dealt cards at various saloons since I was twelve and Johnny Ringo had been playing at my table every chance he got in each location my family moved to. He was even there for me when my cousin was shot and killed the day we met in San Jose, California. For six years, I never saw this pain in him. I suppose I never really looked into Johnny Ringo's eyes.
I'm glad I didn't. It made me uncomfortable. "Johnny, please. You're making me feel more ill at ease than ever I was before," I said, taking a few steps away from the murderous Cowboy.
He didn't try to stop me form leaving. "Go on, get outta here, Cass. Danger's always on the streets of Burnet. Sleep sweet," he said, holding out his hand for mine.
I let him take my hand in his. He analyzed with great care one of the two hands that dealt his poker cards more rapidly and carefully than he had ever seen before. His thumb caressed my knuckles for a bit. Raising my hand, Johnny kissed it with more tenderness than I thought possible from such a rough and tumble man. Still holding my hand, he said, not exactly looking at me, but instead at my hand, "I suppose you'll swear to your mother to never come near me. And that you'll stop at nothing to destroy me?"
"If I did, and if ever I would, you wouldn't be alive right now, Johnny Ringo," I said, calmly watching him stare at my hand, which he was caressing once more.
He looked at me, "Ah, yes. You're the one barmaid who actually knows what she's doing with a pistol. And if I'm not very much mistaken, you're carrying your father's right now."
Sadly, it seemed, Ringo let go of my hand and smiled at me. "Hurry home, Cass. Don't want anythin' to happen to Texas' top dealer," he said, winking at me.
I slowly turned towards my home. I just turned, that's all. I wanted to hear his footsteps fade away behind me before I started walking. Instead, I felt his arms around my waist, his warm breath on my ear and his strong presence close behind me. Closer than I would have liked. I knew he smelled my hair; my father did that before I left for work. Should it smell like alcohol when I returned, I lost supper that night, and needless to say, I didn't eat supper very often. Though, I couldn't, not for the life of me, figure out why Johnny Ringo was doing it now.
"I know you only wanna go home right now, Cass, but..." he whispered in my ear.
"But, what, John?" I whispered my question, hardly daring to stay to hear his answer.
"But, if this is the last time I'll ever see your beautiful figure in my life, I'd like to know your scent of rose oil wasn't just my imagination. You must forgive me, Miss Cassidy... Eilis," he confessed with difficulty, startling me.
I turned around in his arms to face him. Looking up at the dejected Cowboy, I said, "Johnny, you're- you're not making very much sense..." I knew exactly what he meant. What he was telling me. I just needed to hear it for myself.
"I will always remember the twelve year old girl from San Jose who needed my help on the first night we met," he said, leaning towards me.
I was uncomfortable, true, for he was one of my closest friends, but I let him kiss me...
While Andy was reading, Morton and Kelly sat on the bed and watched. Morton was searching for any sign of approval from him and Kelly searched for any reaction from the only two men in her life.
When he finished reading, Andy handed the pages back and said, "I like it. Eilis—or Cassidy, or whatever her name is—reminds me of you, Dolly."
"I don't know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult," Kelly said, laughing and squeezing Morton's hand.
Morton laughed and said, "Take it as a compliment; Eilis is my favorite character and she's my best by far."
'Except John Shooter...' a voice in Kelly's head said.
"Um... Daddy? Could you leave us for a while? I need to talk to Morton," Kelly asked, taking a drink from the water bottle next to the computer.
"Yeah, sure," Andy said, leaving the room and closing the door.
Morton turned to Kelly, kissed her, then asked, "What do you need to talk about?"
Kelly sighed and fell against the mountains of pillows and said, "I need to know how we're defining our relationship. Just so I'm not confused."
Morton stared at the far wall as he thought. He laid next to her and rolled over onto his side. "Well, actually, I hadn't thought about it before now... But I admit I've had a sort of a crush on you for a while... Since you moved here, actually," he said quietly.
She felt her eyes widen. "But you were still married then! How--? Why-- ?"
He placed a finger on her lips and said, "I didn't act on it. No matter how attracted to you I was, I was still in love with Amy. Nothing changed that... Until she discovered Ted, that is."
Kelly felt a jolt of sorrow for him. He had to discover it for himself when Amy had many a chance to tell him. For example: al the times she came to Kelly and Ashley for advice about it and always getting the same answer—tell him.
The words that came to her mind startled her: "She had stolen his love, and a woman who would steal your love when your love was really all you had to give was not much of a woman. He loved her, all the same. It was Shooter who hated her. It was Shooter who meant to kill her and then bury her down by the lake near Chico, where she would before long be a mystery to both of them."
Morton sighed and muttered, "A man who sleeps with another man's wife is a thief. And the woman is his accomplice..."
"Morton, don't think like that," Kelly said, feeling a little creeped out by the statement.
"It's true. You can't say it isn't, Kell," he grumbled. "It's true... You're lucky; you didn't have to worry about it..."
She turned onto her side away from him and muttered, "You'd be surprised..."
Surprised, Morton inched closer to her and asked, "What do you mean?" Kelly didn't say anything. Her only reaction to his question was to heave a shuddering sigh. "Kelly, I don't understand. What did you mean?"
"I can't tell you; I promised her I wouldn't," she said quietly.
"But she's gone, Kelly. Your promise is expired."
Kelly remained silent. Morton inched closer, wrapped his arms around her, rested his head on her arm and waited. He didn't have to wait long, however. After a minute or so, Kelly took a deep breath and said, "She kept coming to me and Ashley for advice. She told us everything, Mort. How you had your own lover—your work—how she felt ignored; how she met Ted; how she fell into her mistakes. She wanted to tell you. Ashley and I constantly told her to do so... But she never did. I'm sorry, Mort. I should've told you..."
Morton cradled her and said, "It's all right. You made a promise and you didn't know me well enough to tell me something so personal. I forgive you..."
They lay in silence until the phone rang five minutes later. Kelly answered, "Hello? This is she... I see... Yes, I know... Uh-huh... All right... Yes. Thank you. Good-bye." She pressed the button and dropped the phone. Grateful Morton didn't ask who called, Kelly waited for a few minutes then asked, "Morton, who's John Shooter?"
His breath caught in his throat. "Why?" he asked, cautiously. Kelly shrugged and said, "I've heard his name before and thought you might know him. Do you?"
"We've met," he said simply. "Around the time Amy disappeared. He's one of the Crazy Folk, Mississippi branch. Accused me of plagiarism. He's nobody. Where'd you hear about him?"
"The general store. They were talking about your problem with him and how no one knew what he looked like or who he was," she answered. Then she turned toward him suddenly, looked him square in the eyes and said, "This is the only time I'm gonna ask: Who is John Shooter? Because there is no John Shooter from Dellacourt, Mississippi. There's not even a Dellacourt in Mississippi. Who is he really, Mort?"
"I told you; he's one of the Crazy Folk. There's nothing more to him," Morton said, shifty-eyed.
Kelly scoffed, got up and left out the back door leading to the small balcony-porch where she collapsed in a deck chair. A few seconds later, Morton joined her. "You're right; there was no Shooter, Kelly," he said as he sat next to her on the ground. "It was me..."
"Why did you do it, Mort? The whole elaborate and homicidal episode?" she asked.
"Shooter kept saying he wanted a story—"
"But there was no Shooter. What did you want, Mort? What did you create Shooter for?" she interrupted, running her fingers through his hair.
"I don't know..."
Kelly stared out at the lake and said, "Well, I hope you find out before he comes back..."
~*~
The next morning found sheriff Dave Newsome on Kelly's front step. Mrs. Barham, whom he had spoken with on the phone, opened the door. Her face brightened when he introduced himself. "Thank goodness you're here! I haven't wanted to go upstairs because he's in the house," she said, letting him into the house.
"Do you know who he is?" he asked her, looking around the front room.
She shook her head. "No. I'm afraid it might be that man who was killing people a couple months ago, though. He lives next door."
The sheriff shot her a look. "Morton Rainey? We can't prove it was him who killed them. Can I take a look upstairs, Mrs. Barham?"
"Oh, yes, of course."
"Where's Kelly?"
"I wish I knew..."
When they reached the master bedroom door, the sheriff listened and heard some movement on the other side. He opened the door slowly and saw Morton Rainey sitting on the floor beside an in progress 'Lord of the Rings Monopoly' game. The Legolas figurine was on the Hobbiton square, whereas the Frodo figurine was on the Mount Doom square. Kelly was nowhere in sight.
Morton looked up and said, "Good morning, Dave. Did you need something?"
Newsome shifted his hand to his holstered gun discreetly and said, "Where's Kelly?"
The writer looked towards the back door. "She went out to feed the cat."
"Stand up, Rainey!"
Morton complied. Newsome clapped handcuffs on him as Kelly walked in through the back door.
"What in the world are you doing?" she demanded, irritated that their game of Monopoly was already interrupted by Bump and now by this. "Let him go."
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Dryden, but he's trespassing. I have to bring him in," the sheriff said.
Kelly shot her mother a vicious look. "Who called you? Her? Well, then, I'm gonna have to ask you to ignore her since this isn't her house; it's mine. And he's not trespassing at all," Kelly said icily.
The sheriff looked between mother and daughter for a minute before Andy walked in, bleary-eyed and asked, "What's going on? Dolly, why is Mr. Rainey in handcuffs?"
"Mama thought it would be funny to have Morton arrested. Please tell sheriff Newsome to let him go," Kelly asked her father.
"Let him go, sheriff," Andy said in a low growl.
The sheriff did so then left, a grumbling Alison on his heels.
"Morton, I'm so sorry," Kelly said. "She thinks it was you who hit Ashley not Greg, so she's biased against you in the first place. Then with our friendship..."
"I understand completely, Kelly," he said, holding up a hand. "I have to go anyways. Orthodontist appointment. Bye." He kissed her on the cheek and left out the back door.
Kelly looked at her father who was watching her, wearing an amused smile. "What?" she asked, defensively.
"Nothing," he said. "You and Mr. Rainey aren't just friends, are you?"
Kelly blushed. "That's none of your business, Daddy! Go get dressed!"
"Good morning, Dolly," she heard her father, Andy, say from the couch. She walked over and leaned on the back of said furniture. "Good morning, Daddy. Why are you guys here?"
Falling asleep on her very comfortable couch, he said, "Your mother wanted to visit and convince you to move back to Utah."
"I see..." she muttered. "Good night, Daddy." Smiling, she went upstairs, searching for her mother. She found her in the master bedroom, straightening up. "Mama! What're you doing?" she asked, taking her stuffed bear from her mom.
"How can you live in such a mess?" Alison Barham asked, rearranging the do- dads cluttering Kelly's desktop. "It's amazing how you can work as a publisher like this!"
"Mama, it's all right; you don't need to clean my room," Kelly said, ushering Alison to the door. "Go downstairs and wait with Daddy so I can change."
"Kelly," Alison started, stopping in the doorway. She looked at her oldest child and said with sunlight glinting off her silver glasses. "Why do you insist on living here? Why won't you move back to Utah?"
"Because, mother," Kelly answered irritated. "I can afford this. I'm happy; I'm safe... And I might even be in love again. Not that you care." She put her teddy bear back on its shelf.
Mrs. Barham quirked an eyebrow. "Really. Who is he?"
Kelly had busied herself with fixing her do-dads. "Oh, you wouldn't like him," she said lightly.
"Try me."
The publisher glanced at her mother and said, "You blame the death of my daughter on him, so I didn't—"
Alison was livid. "How dare you insult your daughter's memory in such a manner! Have you no common sense?? That man's a murderer!"
Kelly whirled on her. "I'll have you know this: the man in the other vehicle was Greg Carstairs, not Morton Rainey! And I have plenty of common sense; I know what I'm doing! I have felt not one prompting to leave Maine, mother! If I did, I would've moved by now! Don't go through that door; so help me, Lord!" She had her finger bearing down on Alison. Her mother's hand was on the doorknob of the small door by the dresser leading to Ashley's room. Alison took her hand off the handle and Kelly took a few deep breaths. "I'm sorry. That goes to Ashley's room and I haven't let anyone in there since... that day..."
"I understand, Kelly," Alison said, crossing to her. "But seriously, child, I don't want you dating an insane murderer."
Kelly backed away and sang:
"Stop telling me what to do. Don't treat me like a child of two. I know that you want what's best. But, mother, please. Give it a rest! Stop! Don't! No! Please! Stop! Don't! No! Please! Stop! Don't! No! Please! Mama, I'm a big girl now! Once upon a time when I was just a kid, You never let me do just what the older kids did. But lose that laundry list of what you won't allow 'Cause, mama, I'm a big girl now! Once upon a time I used to play with toys. But now I'd rather play around with [grown-up] boys. So, if I get a hickey, please don't have a cow! 'Cause, mama, I'm a big girl now! Ma, I gotta tell you that without a doubt I get my best dancing lessons from you! You're the one who taught me how to 'twist and shout' Because you shout non-stop and you're so twisted, too! Wo-oh-oh-oh-oh Once I used to fidget 'cause I just stayed home. But now I'm just like Gidget and I gotta get to Rome! So say, arrivederci! Toodle-loo! And ciao! 'Cause, mama, I'm a big girl now! Stop! Don't! No! Please! Stop! Don't! No! Please! Stop! Don't! No! Please! Mama, I'm a big girl now! Once upon a time I was a shy young thing Could barely walk and talk so much as dance and sing! But let me hit that stage, I wanna take my bow! 'Cause, mama, I'm a big girl now! Wo-oh-oh-oh-oh Once upon a time I used to dress up 'Ken' But now that I'm a woman, I like bigger men. And I don't need a Barbie doll to show me how. 'Cause, mama, I'm a big girl now! Ma, you always taught me what was right from wrong. And now I just wanna give a try! Mama, I've been in the nest for far too long So please give a push and, mama, watch me fly! Watch me fly! Hey, mama, say, mama. Someday I will meet a man you won't condemn. And we will have some kids and you can torture them. But let me be a star before I take that vow. 'Cause, mama, I'm a big girl now! Oh-oh-oh Mama, I'm a big girl now. Hey-hey-hey Mama, I'm a big girl now! Stop! Don't! No! Please! Stop! Don't! No! Please! Stop! Don't! No! Please! Mama, I'm a big girl now!"
Alison stared at Kelly, surprised, "All right... When did you learn that one?"
Kelly pulled her hair into a ponytail and answered, "Last spring, I was the vocal coach for the high school's production of 'Hairspray' for their senior play." She changed out of her skirt and into her dance slacks while hiding behind the oriental-style dressing screen.
"Good morning, Baltimore! There's the Flasher who lives next-door! And the bum on his barroom stool! They wish me luck on my way to school. Good morning, Baltimore! And someday when I take to the floor, The world's gonna wake up and see: Baltimore and me!"
"Kelly, stop singing," she heard her dad say from the doorway. Kelly shut her mouth and glanced in that direction. Andy had never told her to stop singing without a reason, so she waited for him to continue. "There's a scruffy looking man who wants to speak with you." He moved aside and Morton entered the room, taking in the disorganization.
"I wasn't expecting you," Kelly said, somewhat startled. "What did you need?"
Morton smiled and asked, "Is it typical of a publisher to keep the public access rooms of their house orderly, but their bedrooms a wreck?"
Alison and Andy looked confused, but Kelly merely smiled. "I need at least one room of disorder to function. I ask again: what do you need?"
He opened his mouth to answer, but Andy cut him off, "Kelly, who is this character?"
Kelly smiled at her idiocy and said, "Oh, duh. Wake up, Kelly. This is my mom and dad, Alison and Andy Barham. Mama, Daddy, this my neighbor, Morton Rainey."
Alison paled and left quickly. Andy smiled, held out his hand and said, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Rainey. I've read all your works. I'm a big fan." He and the author shook hands. "You never told me he was your neighbor, Dolly." He was smiling at her, so Kelly knew he wasn't mad.
She walked over and, letting Morton take her hand, said, "I'm sorry, Daddy, I must have forgotten... Have you heard of Diary of His FallenAngel yet?"
Andy thought for a moment. "It's your new book, isn't it? I heard a rumor about it," he said to Morton.
"It is," the writer said, shooting Kelly a look. "Where'd you stash the manuscript, Kell?"
"Um... ba, ba, ba..." Kelly belly-flopped onto the bed and rummaged through the nightstand drawer. "Not here..." she checked under the bed. "I found the cat. Bump, get out of there!" Bump ran out of the room. Kelly sat up and thought. "Hmmm... Ah!" Her face lit up and she stuck her hand under the pillow, pulling out the manuscript. "Here it is!" She held it out. "Can he read some, Mort? Just a small preview?"
Mort shrugged. "Sure. Give him the first flash-back or something."
Kelly flipped through the manuscript and handed the pages to her father, saying, "This is my favorite part. From here... to here."
I had just walked out of the saloon I was currently working in. There were some rough types present during my shift, so I wasn't in the most pleasant of all moods. My mind was everywhere but on the shift I had just completed, serving drinks to gambling drunkards.
As I walked past the marshal's office, on my way home, I heard shouting behind me. I turned to see who it was. If I didn't recognize either man in the scuffle, I would have gone home. But, I thought it was my father and the dangerous man, John Ringo, who were arguing.
"Papaw? Is that you?" I called, hoping beyond all hope that it wasn't really my dearest friends in the heated argument. I admit now that John Ringo and I had known each other since 1867 and were fairly good friends. My parents hated Ringo and mine friendship as he was reported to be an adolescent drunk and juvenile delinquent, two accusations, which he claimed, had no evidence to prove their truth.
The marshal walked out of his office at the sound of my voice, "Miss Cassidy! You should be at home. No lady should be walking the streets of this town alone. Especially at night!"
"Marshal, can you tell me if that's my father arguing with Johnny Ringo, please?"
The marshal peered down the street for a minute then said, "Yes, I do believe it is old Seamus Cassidy. Do you want me to break it up?"
"If you would, please," I begged, following him quickly down the street.
"What are you doing out this late, anyways, Miss Cassidy?"
"I just got off work at the saloon," I said, as we ran down the sidewalk and stopped outside a different saloon that I had never been inside before.
The two men were quarrelling at the top of their voices. I couldn't understand a word they were saying, only that they were furious with each other.
"That's it, gents, break it up!" the marshal called as walked over to pull them apart.
"Git away from me!" Johnny Ringo screamed, then pulled out his .45 caliber. I could tell he was in a drunken rage and had asked my father the question again. I didn't know what the question was, and didn't care to know, actually.
Now, my father never was really quick with his pistol. Even I had a faster gun hand, and I'm a woman. When Papaw saw Ringo with his gun drawn, I was shocked to see he made a grab for his own.
"Papaw! No, don't!" I screamed as my father pulled out his weapon.
I ran to place myself between Papaw and Johnny Ringo. Knowing I was putting my life on the line, I stood firmly between the two fighting men. I also knew Johnny Ringo. If he weren't such a louse, he was really a gentleman at heart, having known him, as I said before, for a little over six years. Johnny would never shoot a woman, lady or no.
"Git yerself outta my way, Cassidy!" he yelled at me, proving my thought about his compassion for the female sex true.
"Johnny Ringo, if you think for one second, I would allow you to hurt my Papaw, you're dead wrong!" I said to the extremely angered Cowboy. He knew I meant business. In all the years we had known each other, we had never gotten into the smallest argument, and for me to raise my voice to him was almost like shooting him in the head.
"Now, lass, don't be foolish. His quarrel is with me, not you. Go on home, Ciara," my father tried pushing me aside. I wouldn't budge, even in the slightest.
"He's right, Miss Cassidy. Come on, come here," the marshal said, holding out his hand for mine.
I didn't move. I didn't blink. I just stared at Johnny Ringo. He stared right back. We could go on like this for hours. It was just another staring contest to me. I could see the wheels in his head turning, thinking of what he'd rather being than be in this argument. It made me almost sick to think about it.
"You'd better listen to them, girl. I'd hate to think of what would happen should my trigger finger slip," Ringo said, winking at me, and odd glint in his eye.
"You haven't even cocked it, Johnny. Don't play mind games with me; you know how I hate it. C'mon, gents just give your pistols to the good marshal and we'll all go home. Let's not have any blood on the streets of our town. Please, Papaw, Johnny," I said, earnestly trying to convince them to give up their fight.
"You know what, Cass? You're right. You're absolutely right. Here yeh go, marshal. I'll pick it up in the morning," Ringo said, handing his pistol to the marshal and smiling at me, making me feel uncomfortable.
"Papaw?"
Papaw looked at his pistol for a second, then, under my arm, he shot at Ringo. A look of fury crossed Johnny's face so that it frightened me. He shoved me aside and shot my father in the chest. I fell to the ground in time to see Papaw's face twist in pain and hear his scream of anguish.
"Papaw!!"
"John Ringo, you're under arrest!"
"What're you talkin' about, marshal? It was a fair fight. We was legal," Ringo said, justifying his action.
I crawled over to my father who lay dying in the street. "Papaw? Papaw, are you... Saints preserve us..."
The wound was obviously fatal. I couldn't believe I would lose my beloved father that way. I brushed some of his graying hair from his face and looked, for the final time, into the eyes of the only member of y family who believed I was innocent of all charges against me.
"T-take my... My pistol, sweetheart... An' my knife... I know I can trust you to keep and take proper care of... Of them... Listen to me, Ciara..." Papaw was struggling beyond all belief to speak these last words to me, and it hurt my heart to hear him do so.
"Papaw, shh. Don't speak. Save your energy—"
"Eilis Ciara Cassidy... Listen... To your father's... Dying words... Take care of yourself, now... I can't help... Protect you anymore..."
"Papaw, no. Don't—"
"I... I love you... Ciara..." With these final words, my father faded.
"Papaw!! No, Papaw, don't leave me... Please! Papaw..." I broke down in tears as the marshal hoisted me to my feet, and then escorted me into the strange saloon. I noticed Johnny Ringo had disappeared by then.
"Marshal, what's going on? Cassidy? I'd thought she be in bed by this time!" Richard Stewart, an acquaintance of mine, said, getting me a chair.
"Ringo just killed her father, Richard. Keep her here while I take care of things. Thank you," the marshal said, handing Richard my father's pistol.
"Please tell me you didn't see Ringo shoot him, Cassidy. That's not something girls like you should be witnessin'," Richard said, setting Papaw's pistol on the table next to me.
I looked at the gun, shining in the lamplight. I examined the gleaming finish, the curve of the trigger, the straight barrel. Ever so slowly, so as not attract Richard's attention, I reached for the beautiful weapon. Upon seizing it, I walked quietly out of the saloon and to my father's body, still lying in the street, a sheet pulled over him, nothing more. Kneeling down next to my once living father, I pulled the knife out of its sheath at his belt. The two deadly weapons in my hands, I began walking home once more.
As I walked, I was a shell, an emotionless being. I passed my mother and two sisters by an empty lot. Only the youngest, Keely, stopped me.
"Cassidy, what happened? Mother's most upset!"
I ignored the eight-year-old girl and continued walking.
"Cassidy, please! Tell me!" she called after me.
I turned then. "What do you want me to say, Keely? The truth? It's more horrible than I could ever imagine it could ever have been! Papaw's dead, Keely! Okay? There, I told you. Are you happy now? You'd best get on home, unless you want to see what I've seen!" I screamed at my dear little sister, as I never had done before.
She burst into tears, "I don't believe you! How could you make up such horrible lies about father? I hate you!" I watched the child run towards the saloon, where she had seen my mother disappear. Keely never forgave me of that.
"Well, ain't this a sad evening for Miss Cassidy," the cold voice of Johnny Ringo said behind me, chilling me to the bone.
I whipped around to face him. "How could you do this to our family? You would leave four defenseless women alone in a town like Burnet?"
"You're hardly defenseless, Cass."
"But you would leave me without my defender? I thought you called yourself my friend!" I said. "Why'd you do it?"
He shrugged and took a few steps towards me into the light from the street lamps. His rugged features caught and held the firelight. I could see an odd glimmer in his unfathomable blue eyes that gave me horrible goose flesh.
"I once thought that if someone could give you some manners and clean you up a bit, you'd make a right nice gentleman. I suppose you proved me wrong better than anyone ever could tonight, didn't you?"
"Perhaps."
Johnny stopped so close to me that I could smell the dusty, travel scent on his clothes.
"Do you wanna know why I killed him, Cass? Hmm?" he asked in a whisper that made me uneasy. A difficult thing to do, I'm most comfortable around Johnny, but that time...
"Not really," I said coldly, stepping away from him and into the shadows of the empty lot.
He followed me and turned me to face him. Gently brushing a lock of my hair from my face, he looked into my eyes. I saw, in his eyes, a disturbing pain that I had never seen there before. I've dealt cards at various saloons since I was twelve and Johnny Ringo had been playing at my table every chance he got in each location my family moved to. He was even there for me when my cousin was shot and killed the day we met in San Jose, California. For six years, I never saw this pain in him. I suppose I never really looked into Johnny Ringo's eyes.
I'm glad I didn't. It made me uncomfortable. "Johnny, please. You're making me feel more ill at ease than ever I was before," I said, taking a few steps away from the murderous Cowboy.
He didn't try to stop me form leaving. "Go on, get outta here, Cass. Danger's always on the streets of Burnet. Sleep sweet," he said, holding out his hand for mine.
I let him take my hand in his. He analyzed with great care one of the two hands that dealt his poker cards more rapidly and carefully than he had ever seen before. His thumb caressed my knuckles for a bit. Raising my hand, Johnny kissed it with more tenderness than I thought possible from such a rough and tumble man. Still holding my hand, he said, not exactly looking at me, but instead at my hand, "I suppose you'll swear to your mother to never come near me. And that you'll stop at nothing to destroy me?"
"If I did, and if ever I would, you wouldn't be alive right now, Johnny Ringo," I said, calmly watching him stare at my hand, which he was caressing once more.
He looked at me, "Ah, yes. You're the one barmaid who actually knows what she's doing with a pistol. And if I'm not very much mistaken, you're carrying your father's right now."
Sadly, it seemed, Ringo let go of my hand and smiled at me. "Hurry home, Cass. Don't want anythin' to happen to Texas' top dealer," he said, winking at me.
I slowly turned towards my home. I just turned, that's all. I wanted to hear his footsteps fade away behind me before I started walking. Instead, I felt his arms around my waist, his warm breath on my ear and his strong presence close behind me. Closer than I would have liked. I knew he smelled my hair; my father did that before I left for work. Should it smell like alcohol when I returned, I lost supper that night, and needless to say, I didn't eat supper very often. Though, I couldn't, not for the life of me, figure out why Johnny Ringo was doing it now.
"I know you only wanna go home right now, Cass, but..." he whispered in my ear.
"But, what, John?" I whispered my question, hardly daring to stay to hear his answer.
"But, if this is the last time I'll ever see your beautiful figure in my life, I'd like to know your scent of rose oil wasn't just my imagination. You must forgive me, Miss Cassidy... Eilis," he confessed with difficulty, startling me.
I turned around in his arms to face him. Looking up at the dejected Cowboy, I said, "Johnny, you're- you're not making very much sense..." I knew exactly what he meant. What he was telling me. I just needed to hear it for myself.
"I will always remember the twelve year old girl from San Jose who needed my help on the first night we met," he said, leaning towards me.
I was uncomfortable, true, for he was one of my closest friends, but I let him kiss me...
While Andy was reading, Morton and Kelly sat on the bed and watched. Morton was searching for any sign of approval from him and Kelly searched for any reaction from the only two men in her life.
When he finished reading, Andy handed the pages back and said, "I like it. Eilis—or Cassidy, or whatever her name is—reminds me of you, Dolly."
"I don't know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult," Kelly said, laughing and squeezing Morton's hand.
Morton laughed and said, "Take it as a compliment; Eilis is my favorite character and she's my best by far."
'Except John Shooter...' a voice in Kelly's head said.
"Um... Daddy? Could you leave us for a while? I need to talk to Morton," Kelly asked, taking a drink from the water bottle next to the computer.
"Yeah, sure," Andy said, leaving the room and closing the door.
Morton turned to Kelly, kissed her, then asked, "What do you need to talk about?"
Kelly sighed and fell against the mountains of pillows and said, "I need to know how we're defining our relationship. Just so I'm not confused."
Morton stared at the far wall as he thought. He laid next to her and rolled over onto his side. "Well, actually, I hadn't thought about it before now... But I admit I've had a sort of a crush on you for a while... Since you moved here, actually," he said quietly.
She felt her eyes widen. "But you were still married then! How--? Why-- ?"
He placed a finger on her lips and said, "I didn't act on it. No matter how attracted to you I was, I was still in love with Amy. Nothing changed that... Until she discovered Ted, that is."
Kelly felt a jolt of sorrow for him. He had to discover it for himself when Amy had many a chance to tell him. For example: al the times she came to Kelly and Ashley for advice about it and always getting the same answer—tell him.
The words that came to her mind startled her: "She had stolen his love, and a woman who would steal your love when your love was really all you had to give was not much of a woman. He loved her, all the same. It was Shooter who hated her. It was Shooter who meant to kill her and then bury her down by the lake near Chico, where she would before long be a mystery to both of them."
Morton sighed and muttered, "A man who sleeps with another man's wife is a thief. And the woman is his accomplice..."
"Morton, don't think like that," Kelly said, feeling a little creeped out by the statement.
"It's true. You can't say it isn't, Kell," he grumbled. "It's true... You're lucky; you didn't have to worry about it..."
She turned onto her side away from him and muttered, "You'd be surprised..."
Surprised, Morton inched closer to her and asked, "What do you mean?" Kelly didn't say anything. Her only reaction to his question was to heave a shuddering sigh. "Kelly, I don't understand. What did you mean?"
"I can't tell you; I promised her I wouldn't," she said quietly.
"But she's gone, Kelly. Your promise is expired."
Kelly remained silent. Morton inched closer, wrapped his arms around her, rested his head on her arm and waited. He didn't have to wait long, however. After a minute or so, Kelly took a deep breath and said, "She kept coming to me and Ashley for advice. She told us everything, Mort. How you had your own lover—your work—how she felt ignored; how she met Ted; how she fell into her mistakes. She wanted to tell you. Ashley and I constantly told her to do so... But she never did. I'm sorry, Mort. I should've told you..."
Morton cradled her and said, "It's all right. You made a promise and you didn't know me well enough to tell me something so personal. I forgive you..."
They lay in silence until the phone rang five minutes later. Kelly answered, "Hello? This is she... I see... Yes, I know... Uh-huh... All right... Yes. Thank you. Good-bye." She pressed the button and dropped the phone. Grateful Morton didn't ask who called, Kelly waited for a few minutes then asked, "Morton, who's John Shooter?"
His breath caught in his throat. "Why?" he asked, cautiously. Kelly shrugged and said, "I've heard his name before and thought you might know him. Do you?"
"We've met," he said simply. "Around the time Amy disappeared. He's one of the Crazy Folk, Mississippi branch. Accused me of plagiarism. He's nobody. Where'd you hear about him?"
"The general store. They were talking about your problem with him and how no one knew what he looked like or who he was," she answered. Then she turned toward him suddenly, looked him square in the eyes and said, "This is the only time I'm gonna ask: Who is John Shooter? Because there is no John Shooter from Dellacourt, Mississippi. There's not even a Dellacourt in Mississippi. Who is he really, Mort?"
"I told you; he's one of the Crazy Folk. There's nothing more to him," Morton said, shifty-eyed.
Kelly scoffed, got up and left out the back door leading to the small balcony-porch where she collapsed in a deck chair. A few seconds later, Morton joined her. "You're right; there was no Shooter, Kelly," he said as he sat next to her on the ground. "It was me..."
"Why did you do it, Mort? The whole elaborate and homicidal episode?" she asked.
"Shooter kept saying he wanted a story—"
"But there was no Shooter. What did you want, Mort? What did you create Shooter for?" she interrupted, running her fingers through his hair.
"I don't know..."
Kelly stared out at the lake and said, "Well, I hope you find out before he comes back..."
~*~
The next morning found sheriff Dave Newsome on Kelly's front step. Mrs. Barham, whom he had spoken with on the phone, opened the door. Her face brightened when he introduced himself. "Thank goodness you're here! I haven't wanted to go upstairs because he's in the house," she said, letting him into the house.
"Do you know who he is?" he asked her, looking around the front room.
She shook her head. "No. I'm afraid it might be that man who was killing people a couple months ago, though. He lives next door."
The sheriff shot her a look. "Morton Rainey? We can't prove it was him who killed them. Can I take a look upstairs, Mrs. Barham?"
"Oh, yes, of course."
"Where's Kelly?"
"I wish I knew..."
When they reached the master bedroom door, the sheriff listened and heard some movement on the other side. He opened the door slowly and saw Morton Rainey sitting on the floor beside an in progress 'Lord of the Rings Monopoly' game. The Legolas figurine was on the Hobbiton square, whereas the Frodo figurine was on the Mount Doom square. Kelly was nowhere in sight.
Morton looked up and said, "Good morning, Dave. Did you need something?"
Newsome shifted his hand to his holstered gun discreetly and said, "Where's Kelly?"
The writer looked towards the back door. "She went out to feed the cat."
"Stand up, Rainey!"
Morton complied. Newsome clapped handcuffs on him as Kelly walked in through the back door.
"What in the world are you doing?" she demanded, irritated that their game of Monopoly was already interrupted by Bump and now by this. "Let him go."
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Dryden, but he's trespassing. I have to bring him in," the sheriff said.
Kelly shot her mother a vicious look. "Who called you? Her? Well, then, I'm gonna have to ask you to ignore her since this isn't her house; it's mine. And he's not trespassing at all," Kelly said icily.
The sheriff looked between mother and daughter for a minute before Andy walked in, bleary-eyed and asked, "What's going on? Dolly, why is Mr. Rainey in handcuffs?"
"Mama thought it would be funny to have Morton arrested. Please tell sheriff Newsome to let him go," Kelly asked her father.
"Let him go, sheriff," Andy said in a low growl.
The sheriff did so then left, a grumbling Alison on his heels.
"Morton, I'm so sorry," Kelly said. "She thinks it was you who hit Ashley not Greg, so she's biased against you in the first place. Then with our friendship..."
"I understand completely, Kelly," he said, holding up a hand. "I have to go anyways. Orthodontist appointment. Bye." He kissed her on the cheek and left out the back door.
Kelly looked at her father who was watching her, wearing an amused smile. "What?" she asked, defensively.
"Nothing," he said. "You and Mr. Rainey aren't just friends, are you?"
Kelly blushed. "That's none of your business, Daddy! Go get dressed!"