Anyway, Jason died and it wasn't the most dignified death. At the funeral, I stood on one side of Mariette, my father on the other as people milled by and tossed a handful of dirt on Jason's coffin but when I glanced at Mariette to see how she was holding up, she wasn't looking in the grave at the clods exploding on the coffin lid, but at a lone woman standing across from us behind a few mourners, her face also covered with a black veil. She didn't join the group but kept her distance. Isn't it odd—a woman wears a white veil as a bride and then a black veil as a widow? They attempt to hide their faces from the world and it gives them a strangeness, removes them somehow from the world of ordinary men. But the woman wasn't the widow. Why did she wear a veil?
"Are you all right, Mariette?" I asked as she grabbed my arm to steady herself, her fingers pressing into my arm. I feared she was going to faint and fall into the hole with Jason so I put an arm around her and bent down to see her face under the black sheer veil. The wind had blown it up and aside and I was surprised at the hate I saw in her face.
"It's her," Mariette said in a whisper as she clutched my arm tighter.
I looked back at the figure of the woman but I couldn't tell who she was. Her mourning veil seemed to be heavier than Mariette's, perhaps two layers of sheer fabric, but by her stance and posture, I supposed her to be relatively young. She had rounded hips below a narrow waist. Her black cape flapped open every so often when the cold wind caught it and both her hands were hidden within a black fur muff. She was all in black as well except for a scarlet feather decorating her black hat—almost like a splash of blood.
"Who?" I asked. "You're talking about the woman with the fur muff, right?"
"Yes. I didn't think she'd have the nerve to be here—the whore."
I had never heard Mariette speak that way, so strongly and in a vulgar manner. In all the years I had known her she had always been kind and generous to others and never insulted or spoke ill of anyone except of the men who were responsible for Jason's incarceration and even that had been kinder than what they deserved.
I said no more as my father had looked over at us and the reverend was beginning to approach the widow to comfort her while the rest of the attendees milled by the grave to pay their respects.
"Adam," my father said, quietly as he put a hand on my shoulder, "bring Mariette back to the house, would you? People will soon be arriving and I better be there to greet them. I can't leave it up to Hop Sing and your brothers."
I told him I would and watched as the woman who had remained at a distance turned and walked away to a small buggy. Jud Brinson, who had just helped his hugely pregnant wife into their buggy, helped the back-veiled woman into hers. She nodded to him in gratitude and raised her veil, flipping it back over her hat but I couldn't see her face. But it was obvious that Jud did and liked what he saw. He said something to her—something insipid, I'm sure, and then he smiled. When he climbed up into his buggy seat, his wife said something to him and it was obvious he was being chastised. He apologized profusely to his wife. I had to smile to myself and guessed that his wife, Trudy, felt awkward and unattractive at this late stage in her pregnancy-it must have been her close friendship with Mariette that brought her to the funeral—and it probably annoyed her to see Jud "flirt" with another woman who didn't have a huge belly.
~ 0 ~
"Now tell me what you meant by calling that woman a whore," I said to Mariette who sat beside me as I drove her to the Ponderosa. She still gripped her balled-up lace handkerchief in her hand.
"Just what I said—a whore. You know what one is, Adam—everyone does—a promiscuous woman, a jezebel, a woman who…has relations with a man for gain whether it be money or anything else."
"Mariette…" I had my doubts that Jason would be unfaithful—his fear that if he was caught with another woman, I would beat the hell out of him and then castrate him and serve up his roasted chestnuts for his dinner would be too great.
"Listen to me, Adam, before you tell me what you think."
Mariette looked at me, her eyes wild, her breathing rapid. I worried about her state and that she would become hysterical—she was prone to histrionics, had been her whole life. When her mother and then her father died, both times she was frantic, frenzied, sobbing uncontrollably. The doctor had to give her laudanum to calm her and let her sleep. A few times in her life, I actually had to shake her to calm her and bring her back to herself.
"We were at home one evening about a month ago, a letter came, more like a note. It was brought by a boy—said he was given a nickel to deliver it when Jason asked him. Well, Jason and I were sitting by the fire in the parlor. It was such a lovely evening—I still remember because that was last time…the last time I was happy, sure that Jason loved me.
"Jason read the letter and his face changed so I asked him what was wrong—I knew something was wrong. He said it was nothing but he had to go see someone. Well, Adam, after the problems with Eskith, Murdoch and the murders and such, you can understand how worried I was—I was afraid some enemy from the past had again appeared so…I'm ashamed to say it but I followed him."
"Mariette," I said, "Are you sure you want to tell me all this?"
"Yes, I do so you'll understand why I won't be able bear it if that woman comes to the house. If she does, swear that you'll turn her out, Adam. Swear it!" I said that I couldn't swear anything until I heard it all, so Mariette continued. "I followed Jason to the hotel. I waited for a bit—it was so cold and I almost left and went home but then I went inside. I didn't want to start any gossip so I told the desk clerk that Jason and I were to meet an old family friend from out of town but that I had forgotten what room—could he tell me what room Jason went to? He said that if it was the woman he was thinking of, she was in room 24 so I went up and tried to listen through the door. I know it was an awful thing to do but I was so worried.
"Well, I couldn't hear anything so I stepped back into the shadows and waited. Eventually the door opened and Jason stepped out and I saw a woman in a satin dressing gown in the doorway. Adam, she was beautiful—like a painting. I think I would have preferred it be Gerald Eskith risen from the dead than a woman like that. Jason assured her that he would bring her two hundred dollars the next day and then he left and she closed the door."
"Mariette, I have to admit it sounds suspicious but things aren't always as they seem." My mind was going around in circles trying to come up with a reason other than purchasing favors that would make Jason pay a woman in a state of partial undress two hundred dollars. But then no self-respecting whore would spread her legs first and allow a man to pay later. Things didn't make sense.
"I'm not through, Adam. I didn't know her name and couldn't ask for it at the desk or my lie would be exposed but I watched for her whenever I was out shopping. I would stroll hoping I would see her. She was never at church—I think you yourself would have noticed her, Adam, if she had been because, well, a beautiful stranger would have caught your attention. Anyway, I would go have tea at the hotel's restaurant almost every day hoping to see her and once when Jason was away overnight in Carson City, I took dinner there and I saw her; she was sitting by herself two tables over. I asked the waiter her name—said that she looked vaguely like someone I went to school with. He said that she was staying in the hotel, a Mrs. Freestone and did I want to send a message to her. I lied my way out it by saying that now that I really looked at her, I was wrong—she wasn't my old friend."
"Did anyone join her?" My curiosity was piqued—a beautiful woman without any ties except to Jason Blaine, and that tie, tenuous at best, interested me. I had to find out who she was for myself and why she was in Virginia City.
"No, no one joined her although a man in a suit, probably some drummer, asked if he could join her. I heard their conversation from where I was sitting, but she said that she preferred to be solitary. He tipped his hat and walked on to another table but he watched her the whole time. As I said, she's quite beautiful and, Adam, there's no way I could compete with a woman like that. I was so afraid that Jason would run off with her."
"Do you have any idea how many times Jason saw her?"
"I'm sure that in the three weeks before he died, he saw her about every other day. I didn't follow him but I knew because his excuses were so outlandish and ridiculous; he had to meet with a miner, he needed to visit a site out of town—none of those things happen at night, at least they never had before. And you know how I asked if you could meet with me and the banker tomorrow?" I nodded but listened carefully. Mariette's request hadn't surprised me. I was even going to suggest it as she never did have much sense about money. "I stopped by the bank yesterday and we have only $4.89 in our account. I think Jason gave all the money to her. All of it. I think that's why he was drunk, because he had given Mrs. Freestone all our money and for what? A night's sinful pleasure? She killed him. She's the one who really killed my Jason."
I waited to let Mariette settle down before I spoke. "Mariette, I don't know any whore, no matter how talented, who could financially wipe out a man in two weeks. If what you say is true, that Jason gave her all your money, there's another reason."
Mariette glanced at me with her sad eyes. "I hope so, Adam. I loved him and the thought that he wanted another woman…" Her voice broke and she dabbed at her eyes with her balled-up handkerchief.
We rode the rest of the way in silence and although Mariette hoped that Mrs. Freestone wouldn't be at the reception, I hoped she was. This woman I had to see.