Iragene wanted to rectify his misconception. "She is a gifted seamstress, trying to make a living after the death of her mother, and that is all. She sews for Mrs. Brown and her girls. Again, that is all she does. Mrs. Brown gave her a job after meeting her in St. Louis while visiting her sister."

MacDonald looked relieved but remained obviously bothered by the news. "Thank you, sheriff, I shall take up no more of your time." He turned to go then stopped. "You appeared to be discussing some business with her. Perhaps she sews for others besides Mrs. Brown?"

"Well yes, I just hired her to make some items for me. I imagine she'd gladly take on new customers—sewing customers that is. So many women are unwilling to accept her living quarters and associate her being there with the business that goes on there that they refuse to hire her."

"Yes, yes, I can understand that. Perhaps, you would inform her that I am, ahh, interested in seeing the quality of her work. We can always improve the quality of our hotel linens and I could always use a new dress shirt." He looked down at her with a hopeful expression on his face.

"Of course, I'll let her know. Shall I have her make an appointment with your manager or . . . "

He cut her off. "No, no, just have her come in anytime and ask for me. Thank you." He turned abruptly and left the office.

Iragene just sat there and pondered the oddness of the last visit. Then she remembered the dead man in her jail and swore a little more. She was just in the middle of another set of expletives when the doctor entered the office and just stared at her open mouthed.

"Doc, you wouldn't be staring at me if I were a man who just found a dead man in his jail, would you?"

"O, shit!" he repeated, "No, I wouldn't be staring, but I wasn't expecting to find my patient dead either. What happened?" he asked as he went for the key.

"Not necessary, the cell is open."

"Yeah, of course," he replied absently while walking to the dead man. He approached the man and examined the wound. "Infected and festering. Might have been able to do something if I didn't have a baby to deliver . . . oh, what the hell, may have died anyway." He sat down across from Iragene and just stared at nothing.

"I'm so sorry, Doctor, I know how you feel about all of your patients. I'm sorry I put you in this position." She looked at him and wished she had had some other way to subdue the big man, but wishes were just that and nothing could change if she were the only lawman around at the time. When Cruz was with her, she had some options, but alone, well, it was shoot or be god knows what.

"Look, Iragene, that man was a brute, and if you were able to find out anything about him, I'm sure you would find the world is a better place without him, but oh, well, I'll contact the undertaker on my way home. I've gotta get some shut eye. Good day, sheriff," and he doffed his hat and left.

A few days later Iragene made it over to Mrs. Brown's establishment to see how Matty was and share some news she had. Due to the death of her prisoner, she had had to see he was buried and try to find out who he was. She successfully completed both tasks, including finding out that the prisoner was wanted in Texas for the murder of a young homesteader and his sister as well as numerous robberies. His name was Titus Smalley, but even more disturbing was that he had two brothers. Both had records a mile long, but they were supposedly somewhere in Texas. The news didn't make her feel any better, but at least she knew that this brother wouldn't hurt any more women.

Matty was doing well, and the teeth had actually stayed in place. She was still discolored around the face, but the arm was beginning to lessen in pain. Doc Stein had just left, and Iragene was relieved to have missed him.

Iragene walked down the stairs and was met by Marnie.

"Sheriff! I've completed some of your items already. Would you care to see them? The towelettes, handkerchiefs, and aprons were easy to make."

Iragene looked at the items and expressed a genuine appreciation of the girl's needlework. "Everything is perfect, Marnie. I can't wait to go home and give everyone their gifts." Luckily she had money on her and paid the girl. She turned to go then stopped after remembering the hotel owner's request. "Oh, yes, I almost forgot. Mr. MacDonald, the hotel owner, wanted you to come by and discuss some sewing jobs for him."

Marnie turned back to Iragene with a big smile on her face. "When should I go there, sheriff? Who do I ask for? I can't believe it!" the girl burst out as she waited for the information.

Iragene shared what she'd been told and left smiling, feeling good for the first time in a long time. She decided she'd walk over to the doctor's office and share all of her news. Cruz, her deputy, wasn't due back until tomorrow, and she felt she had to share the good news with someone, so she did.

Marnie too was overwhelmed with the great opportunity that had fallen her way. She was so excited that she ran to her room and changed into one of her dresses that she used to wear when meeting a new client for the first time. Things were looking up for her, and she welcomed the thought of finally moving out of Mrs. Brown's into her own home. She would miss Mrs. Brown and the girls, but she knew she would be happier to be out of the whorehouse.

She walked over to The Hotel, trying to contain her excitement. In her mind she already planned her new house, her new shop, maybe even someone special in her life. At first it would be lonely living and working alone, but she knew she needed to leave Mrs. Brown's establishment. As she entered The Hotel, she took a deep breath, and walked up to the desk clerk.

"Hello, my name is Marnie Slaughter, and I am here to see Mr. MacDonald regarding seamstress work." The young clerk looked at her and smiled. Marnie blushed and waited for him to tell Mr. MacDonald she was there.

Finally, he took his eyes off the beautiful girl and went to inform his boss that the expected visitor had arrived. In only minutes, Mr. MacDonald appeared and asked her into his office. "Alan, please tell Chef that I would like some refreshments for two in my office."

The young clerk looked surprised, but left immediately to carry out his boss's wishes.

Marnie was ushered into a spacious office. "Please, Miss Slaughter, have a seat and tell me about your experience as a seamstress. I happened to see some of your work when you were breakfasting with the sheriff yesterday, and I want to hire you to monogram linens, make me some custom made shirts, and be our hotel's on the premise seamstress—with your own room and board included."

Marnie just looked at MacDonald with her mouth open. She hadn't even said a word, and here she was being offered a full-time position with the hotel with her own room and board. She was silent, and then she was angered.

"Now wait a minute, Mr. MacDonald, I am a professional seamstress, not one of Mrs. Brown's regulars. If you think . . . "

He cut her off. "Miss Slaughter, Sheriff Jones explained your work, and I am not even going to discuss what you think I am insinuating! Let me make myself clear, I need someone I can trust and rely on for professional work and that does not include what Mrs. Brown's girls do. Now, are we clear? The sheriff said you were good at fine stitching and tailoring. I need someone who can do both in this god-forsaken place. Are you interested?"

Shocked at his offering her the job with all of her needs included, she looked at him closely for the first time. She stared at his features. He was a man old enough to be her father. In fact, he strongly resembled the very uncle she had run away from. She even wondered for a moment if they were related, but that couldn't be. This far from St. Louis it could only be coincidental. Did she even want to mention the resemblance? No, she thought better of it.

The coffee arrived along with some lovely teacakes. Marnie couldn't help but smile as she remembered her outings with her mother that always seemed to end with their stopping at a teashop for some delicious treats.

"You're smiling, Miss Slaughter. Would you like to share some of your thoughts?" MacDonald asked politely. She looked at him and once again tried to determine why this man wanted to hire her and provide such unusual benefits. And, why in the world did he look so much like her horrible uncle?

"Mr. MacDonald, I am overwhelmed at your generous offer, and yes, I will definitely consider the job. As for my smile, I was just remembering some wonderful times with my mother. Now I must leave and think this over."

"Please, stay, Miss Slaughter. It isn't too often that I have someone who can appreciate fine coffee and cakes. Tell me about your family and your experience. How did you become such a fine seamstress?"

Marnie sat back down. "Mr. MacDonald, are you this curious about all of your employees?"

"Actually, I am. I think of my employees as my family."

"Ahhh. Well, I was taught to sew by my mother. She was amazing. She could sew anything. She loved to create things. We owned a shop in St. Louis, and we were happy until, until . . . "

"Until what, Miss Slaughter?" he prodded gently.

"Until everything went wrong, until, excuse me, Mr. MacDonald. I think I would prefer not to discuss this right now." She got up abruptly. "I'll get back to you in a few days. I'd like some time to think over your offer."

"Of course, Miss Slaughter, I'm sorry, I hadn't meant to pry. Forgive me, please." He too got up and began to walk her out but she politely refused and left the hotel office, confused and close to tears.

She almost ran back to Mrs. Brown's. She wondered why Mr. MacDonald and his job offer bothered her so much. What he said made sense. The Hotel's staff were all friendly and did seem like a big family, but . . . . And why did Mr. MacDonald remind her so much of her uncle? Surely her uncle wasn't the only blond in the world, but Mr. MacDonald sure did look a lot like him. "I'd be crazy to turn down that job," she said aloud, "why shouldn't I try it out? I can always move back to Mrs. Brown's if things didn't work out." Determined to improve her life, she sent a note to MacDonald saying that she would be delighted to work for him, but she needed a few days to complete her work for Mrs. Brown. Relieved she went back to her room and her sewing.

A few days later, Iragene was washing down her cell and trying to air out the smell of death. She had just gotten back from visiting her family and delivering gifts of Marnie's beautiful handiwork. She wasn't happy to find the cell still tainted with the smell of the dying man, but a little more time and wash should do the trick.

"Sheriff, I'm sorry. I tried to air the stink out of the place, but there's not a whole lot of air coming in," her deputy explained. "I tried washing it down, but we were out of soap."

"I can see your quandary, Cruz, no soap. Hmmm," she sarcastically replied, but smiled at her gentle deputy. Cruz had missed her tone and went on about his chores which included going through all the wanted posters. Iragene entered the main office and saw two posters that Cruz had singled out.

"The Smalleys. I see each brother has his own list of crimes, but all seem to include robbery, rape, and assault. Hmm, Titus was the only one wanted for murder. Hopefully, we won't have to deal with these other two, but be on the lookout, Cruz. They say bad news travels in threes. In the meantime, let's get over to Mrs. Brown's. Marnie is moving out today, and I promised I would help and check out her new room."

"I still can't believe Mr. MacDonald offered her a place to live and all those other good things," he said questioningly. "Isn't that a bit queer offering that to a stranger?"

"I'm not sure she's such a stranger to him. I was having breakfast with Marnie when Mr. MacDonald saw her for the first time. He got a very odd expression on his face, almost like he recognized her, but it was more than that. He had a surprised yet pained expression. Maybe she has some link to his past?" Iragene speculated as they walked over to help Marnie move out. "But since I know nothing about Mr. MacDonald, I can't even guess."

They arrived at Mrs. Brown's and knocked on the door. Mrs. Brown opened the door and greeted them. She had been crying. "I know this is a wonderful opportunity for Marnie, but we'll all miss her. She's become a part of our family."

"I understand Mrs. Brown, and I'm sure she'll never forget you for helping her out and taking her in when she had no one." Iragene gently responded as she touched Mrs. Brown on the shoulder. "Besides, she's only a few minutes away."

Cruz and Iragene entered Marnie's soon-to-be former room. All of her fabrics and clothes were bound and ready to go. Marnie's face was flushed with excitement and she was giddy with emotion. The sheriff was reminded that Marnie was still a young girl.

"I see you're ready, Marnie," Iragene looked around admiringly. "Even your packing is done beautifully. Are you ready to start your new job?"

"Oh, yes!" the girl gushed. Then she saw Mrs. Brown and ran to her and put her arms around her. "Oh, Mrs. Brown, how will I ever thank you for your kindness and generosity?"

"By not forgetting us," Mrs. Brown said. By now the other girls came down to say good-bye. Matty and Jenny were the closest, and they reached out to hug Marnie good-bye.

The other girls crowded around her, and they reached out to hug her as well. Marnie started crying and then said, "Wait, I almost forgot. I made something for each of you." Out of her sewing bag she took out a monogrammed handkerchief for each one of the girls. Lastly, she pulled out a beautiful silken scarf for Mrs. Brown.

Mrs. Brown gasped at its beauty. Marnie, I can't accept this. It is too beautiful and dear. Surely this must be special to you."

"It is, and that is why I want you to have it. It was my mother's, and you treated me as well as a mother would. I was alone, and you took me in. Mrs. Brown, if it hadn't been for you, I would have . . . " she stopped. "I want you to have it, please."

"I shall be honored, my dear. Now off you go, and don't be a stranger," she said smilingly through her tears.

They all waved as they started walking back to town with the few parcels that Marnie owned. They hardly needed the horse Cruz and Iragene brought. They walked quietly but happily to The Hotel.

When they got to the hotel, they entered the lobby. The same young man greeted Marnie at the front desk. "Mr. MacDonald wanted me to let him know when you had arrived. He wanted to show you to your room personally. The clerk stepped out a moment, and then he returned with the hotel's owner.

Mr. MacDonald entered the room jubilantly. "Good morning to you all," he said happily. Iragene looked at him and then she looked at Marnie. The resemblance between the two appeared more than coincidental. The realization must have appeared on her face because Mr. MacDonald looked alarmed as he saw her expression. He looked at Iragene pleadingly, though Marnie saw nothing but her new employer and living quarters.

"Let me show you your new room, Marnie, if I may call you by your first name?" She looked at him then replied, "Yes Sir, if you wish." They walked up the stairs to the third floor and Mr. MacDonald opened a door to a small but well furnished suite." "How do you like it?" he asked.

"It's beautiful, but all this for a seamstress?" she asked with confusion in her voice. "Mr. MacDonald, something odd is happening here. Please explain. Why are you treating a complete stranger with such kindness? Such generosity?" She looked at him for the first time seeing a man that looked so much like her uncle that it once more surprised her. She looked at him and then looked down at his left hand. He was wearing a ring almost identical to the one on her right hand.

"Where did you get that!" she demanded. "Who are you, Mr. MacDonald?" She turned as if to run, but she decided that she had run enough. "Again, who are you?"

Iragene stepped in and touched Marnie on the arm. "Come, let's all of us sit down and talk. I think Mr. MacDonald has something to tell you." Marnie allowed herself to be led to a settee in the room where she sat down by Iragene. She then turned and looked expectantly to the man she thought was to be her new employer.

"Marnie," the man said softly, "I am not just an interested and caring employer, I am an interested and caring father." He looked at her, waiting for a response. When nothing happened, he was about to say something else, but Marnie jumped up and looked at him accusingly.

"You're not my father. My father died in the War. He died leaving Mama and me to fend for ourselves against his cruel and sick brother who destroyed Mama and almost destroyed me. My father died leaving Mama to live a life without love because she continued to love only him until the day she died. If you really are my father, then tell me NOW why you ran away and left us!"

MacDonald held his hands to his face, attempting to control his feelings. "Marnie, I was hoping to wait until you knew me better and trusted me more before I told you who I am. I'm so sorry. I knew nothing about my brother's behavior, and to tell you the truth, I didn't even know I had a daughter until I saw you the other day with the sheriff, heard your name, and saw your mother's handkerchief. I left for war not knowing your mother was pregnant. Please believe me. I don't know how or where to begin. Will you listen?"

Marnie looked at him, her face full of shock and anger. She really wanted to leave this miserable man alone. Let him face fear and betrayal for a change. He left his own wife and child to do so.

"Why? Why should I listen?" she spat back at him.

"Because, something happened during the War. My mind was broken as well as my body. I was so damaged that I woke up one day in a Confederate prison, never knowing how I got there. I was shot and barely alive. I was no longer the same man I had been before my injuries. My body would never be whole again, and with it my very sanity hung in the balance. I don't remember much during my captivity, but toward the end of the War, our prison and surrounding area was bombarded every night. The explosions, the lights, the fires, the screaming of the injured and dying. I can't begin to tell you what the other men and I suffered. We were starved and living in mud and human waste, covered with fleas and chiggers, infected wounds, and sickened and diseased—not sure what we feared more—death or survival."

And now MacDonald continued as if there was nobody in the room. His face became anguished and he continued. "Daily men died. No one there to weep for them, to say a prayer for them. Some of my friends died, and I looked at them, not shedding a tear.

When we were liberated, our fellow Yanks fed us, cleaned us up a bit, and sent us home. Instead of going home, I began to find some peace in a bottle. For years I did odd jobs and managed to shut out some of the pain of war and captivity through drink, but not enough. I was ready to end it all one night when I ran into a man named Kieran MacDonald, a former Confederate soldier who had worked at the camp. He was one of the few men to display any compassion for the prisoners of war. Well, he saw who and what I was . . . and this man took me to his home, cleaned me up, fed me, and spent the next two years talking to me as I worked side by side with him on his damaged property. He had lost his wife and almost everything he owned, but he was willing to share everything with me. We talked and we worked. Years passed. We rebuilt his land. Hired on some former slaves who knew MacDonald for what he was, a good man, and we all turned his charred fields into fields of tobacco, wheat, and corn.

"Six years ago, MacDonald hurt his arm. It became infected, and he died. For the first time in years, I cried. I cried for my lost friend, my lost wife, and my lost past. I cried for the men I killed and the men who almost killed me. Through my loss, I regained my soul.

I was to discover that MacDonald left his land and money to me. I was shocked. In his will he called me the brother he never had. In his honor, I decided to take his name and head West, making a new beginning. I became Kieran MacDonald, and I promised him I would make something of myself, helping other people along the way as he did me. That's why I feel so strongly about making my hotel a family. The family I lost and never even knew."

MacDonald stopped talking. He looked around and finally remembered that he was no longer alone. Iragene, Cruz, and his daughter were his witnesses, and he had exposed his very soul to these people. He got up abruptly, embarrassed he was about to excuse himself and leave, but Marnie jumped up and with tears running down her face embraced him. For a moment he stood there, confused, then he too embraced his daughter and they stayed that way for who knows how long, for Iragene and Cruz silently left the two, father and daughter alone.

Several weeks later, Iragene and Cruz were just locking up the office, on their way to a celebratory lunch at The Hotel. This was the first time either had seen Marnie and her father since their emotional reunion. They had had much to catch up with as well as get to know each other better. The invitation to lunch was a relief to everyone. Mrs. Brown and her girls were invited and so was Doc Stein. To avoid embarrassing gawkers for the girls, the group was to meet in a small dining area off the main restaurant.

"Mierda, it's cold, I'm going back for my jacket, sheriff. I'll join you there." Hiding her smile at his occasional swear word so out of place for this gentle man, she nodded and continued on to the hotel.

She was feeling good and not really paying careful attention to any one, when she heard a gruff voice speak out loudly. "Hey, you fuckin' bitch. You're the one who killed Titus, and now I'm going to kill you." She turned and faced a bull of a man as large as his brother, and equally as offensive, and his hand was moving towards his holstered gun. Although her mind hadn't been in the right place, it quickly switched and her reflexes clicked in. She easily drew and shot him twice in the chest. He went down. Magnus Smalley was dead with two bullets to the heart.

Shaken, she began to look around and see if the other brother was somewhere nearby. Where was Cruz? She slowly walked over to the fallen man to ensure herself that he was dead. She just happened to see some movement on the roof and looked up. There was brother number three with a rifle aimed at her. She dove and pulled her gun but was too late. A shot rang out, but nothing hit her or around her. Instead, the brother, Festus Smalley, fell off the roof and onto the dirt street. Surprised she looked out to see Cruz running with a rifle toward her. He looked at her anxiously. "Sheriff, are you okay? I heard two shots and . . . "

Relief filled his face as he saw her get up. "Yeah, thanks to you, Cruz. I guess the plan was to get me either on the street or from the roof. Luckily they hadn't counted on you being there for me. Let's celebrate bad planning—on their part."

He just looked at her and then he smiled. By now people were filling the street to see what had happened. In the distance, Iragene saw the luncheon party coming down the street towards her.

Doc Stein was the first to speak. "New patients?"

"No, Doc, the brothers of a former one, but I think they are beyond your help." She smiled awkwardly at him, and it was clear that she was badly shaken. "I wasn't really looking where I was going, and I almost bumped right into him. Luckily he called me out, and I was able to get him before he got me."

"Sheriff," Cruz exclaimed, "his gun barely cleared his holster. You got him. You were twice as fast even with his warning." He looked at her with a sense of awe, negating his own role in the shoot-out.

"That may be so, Cruz, but if it hadn't been for you, I'd be dead. Once again, I am in your debt, deputy." She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

Doc Stein had checked the men and then got some volunteers to take them to the undertaker. He turned to her. "I think the celebratory luncheon might be a bit much for you today, sheriff. What do you think? I'll gladly walk you back to your office."

Iragene looked around at these people she now called friends. Yes, she had just killed a man, and yes she was badly shaken. She looked over at Cruz. He too had just taken a life, but he was more concerned about her than about killing the man. She had just shot a man, but that, unfortunately, was part of her job, and in this case, she had killed a potential killer in self-defense.

She turned toward the doctor, put her hand on his arm, and replied, "Doctor, I appreciate your concern, but I'd like to join the Slaughters in their celebration. After all, what is the good of keeping La Madera safe if not to enjoy the celebration of good people? But I might take a tip of your flask in my coffee if you will be so kind to offer me one." Doc Stein quickly agreed, and they walked to the hotel.