The Wages of Sin by Matt Braun

Author:Matt Braun
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group
Published: 1984-12-16T16:00:00+00:00

TWELVE

Vivian tipped the Mexican boy a quarter after he handed her the sealed telegram. She opened it and read carefully:

ISABELLE MACKENZIE.

GULF HOTEL.

CUERO.

TEXAS.

P INFORMS TWO MISSIONARIES KILLED IN ENCOUNTER WITH OUTLAW. P DECLARES THAT MISSION COMMANDS HIGHEST PRIORITY. MUST SAVE MORE SOULS.

SEE YOU SOON.

A. T.

She folded the yellow paper and glanced down at the morning DeWitt County Democrat which lay doubled over next to her coffee cup. She’d just finished reading the front-page story about the railway car shoot-out and was about to start on the piece about Pitkin Taylor’s death when the message had arrived. She opened the rag for another look at the headlines: JOHN WESLEY HARDIN GUNS PINKERTONS. Then in a subhead: Taylor Henchman Adds Two to Count. She took a sip of coffee, but it had cooled and it tasted foul.

“How fortunate!” Garwood said as he looked down on a pensive Isabelle MacKenzie.

“Oh . . . hello,” she said, startled.

“I thought I’d find you here. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Please sit down, Sher,” she said pleasantly. She welcomed his appearance as she had nothing else to do and she was beginning to wonder what people would think of her failure to hawk Bibles on street corners. Surely they would expect her to preach and pass the plate or to move on to the next town.

“I see you have been reading about Satan’s latest deeds in our fine scandal sheet,” Garwood said, his face a sheepish mask. He suddenly realized that the feudists didn’t have a monopoly on sin. “God knows what will come of it,” he added, hoping to recover from his condemnation.

Vivian cocked her head, raised her eyebrows slightly, and fixed her eyes on the banker in a sideways stare. “The Devil’s work is everywhere,” she said. “We’ve all been snagged by his venomous fangs. ‘Then Jesus said unto them, I go my way, and ye shall seek me, and shall die in your sins: whither I go, ye cannot come.’ John, eight, twenty-one.”

“I’d hardly put murder in the same category as the desires of the flesh, Isabelle.” He paused and smiled. “God must have had something in mind when he put a fine-looking woman like you on the face of His earth. Frankly, you’re a certain pleasure to a man’s eyes.”

“I thank you for the compliment,” she said, now sensing that Garwood’s attraction toward her had gone further than lust.

Then he lowered his voice to a sincere tone. “Fact is, Isabelle, I’ve come to apologize for my indiscretion. I know it was an offense to your faith.”

“What about your faith, Sher?”

Garwood looked like a tomcat about to pounce on an unsuspecting dove, but he didn’t answer. “And . . .” He paused purposefully. “And . . . I want to show my appreciation by asking you to accompany me on a picnic outing this noon.”

“Another church affair?”

“Not likely,” he said, his voice almost scornful.

“Why not?” She had no other plans and it was better than begging for coin on the street corner, a part of her undercover scheme which she’d been able to avoid thus far.

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