a ship’s sail.
Ninety-seven...ninety-eight...ninety-nine...one hundred.
Uley stood and slipped the silver hairbrush back into the bureau drawer. She examined herself in the moonlight that filtered through the curtains. Even in the muted glow, she saw glimmers of color in her hair.
For one brief moment, she let herself dream. She pretended she wore petticoats that swished around her ankles, that her hair remained loose, swinging free. She allowed herself to imagine what it would feel like to get gussied up, strap on delicate undergarments, pinch her cheeks till they were pink. She’d walk right into that jailhouse and say, “See, Mr. Brown? I am not a slip of a girl. I am a woman.”
She braided her hair, slipped wearily beneath the handworked quilt and hugged her pillow in frustration. Although she tried to reason that she’d made this choice for a selfless reason, deep inside she knew that hadn’t been the case. Five years ago, her father had given her what she wanted, a chance to come with him to the rich goldfields of Colorado, instead of staying in Ohio with her aunt and her prissy cousins. When Aunt Delilah had warned her things might become difficult, Uley hadn’t understood her reasoning. She’d been so innocent at fourteen, so sure of herself, so certain the charade wouldn’t have to continue for long.
She hadn’t bothered to pray about it the way Reverend Henderson said. She’d been perfectly willing to take this adventure into her own hands. She bunched the pillow tight against her face and stared up at the pine planks above her. Lord, would my life have been different if I had asked You? Hadn’t it been worth everything, she wondered, to stay in Tin Cup with her pa?
* * *
It was interesting, Aaron decided as he lay on his cot and examined the patterns in the fresh pine overhead, what a man thought about all night long when he knew he was going on to eternity. He wasn’t thinking of pearly gates and golden streets. His main thought, as he lay there seeing pictures in the pine knots, was to write Beth a letter so that she’d know his fate. He was thinking it was a shame he had to die for Beth to find out that she’d been right.
At three in the morning, he stood and banged on the metal bars of his cell. “Marshal!” he shouted. “Marshal! I need to write a letter!”
The man who answered his call was an elderly gentleman Aaron had never seen before. “You hush that racket. You’re going to wake the dead.”
“I’m going to be the dead,” Aaron said. “This is about the last chance to make noise I’ve got. I need to write a letter.”
The old guy shook his head. “Can’t help you. Marshal left me in charge here. Don’t have any paper for you to write on, and I can’t leave. How do I know you’re not trying to escape?”
“I can’t very well escape,” Aaron said dryly. “I’m in a jail cell.”
“You’re the first one we’ve ever had locked up in here. I’m not about to let you get away.”
“I have stationery and writing supplies with my belongings at the Grand Central Hotel. If you could just send someone, Mr.—”
“Pearsall. Ben Pearsall. Can’t do it. Ain’t anybody around to send. You’ll have to find somebody to get your stuff and post it for you tomorrow. The mail only comes in and out on Mondays and Thursdays.”
Aaron sat down on the creaky cot, defeated once more. Things sure hadn’t gone his way these past few days. He didn’t know anybody in town who he’d trust to go through his room and retrieve his belongings.
Ben Pearsall pulled up a stool and straddled it, apparently pleased to have somebody to talk to in the wee hours of the morning. “You know, you’re crazy,” he told Aaron. “The reason everybody turned out at the election down at Pettengill’s Drug Store and voted for Olney for marshal was because he told them he wouldn’t arrest anybody. Olney’s said all along the marshal’s duty is to give the town the appearance of law and order. The mayor told him the day he got his star that the first person he arrested would be his last. And that’s you, Mr. Brown. Olney didn’t have much of a choice, since he was the one you were holding a gun on.”
Aaron looked sour. “I guess not. I guess me and Uley Kirkland didn’t leave him much of a choice at all.”
“Uley Kirkland,” Ben said. “Now there’s a fine young man for you. But I can’t figure out why that kid ain’t started growin’ whiskers yet. You ever seen Uley’s skin close up? It’s as soft as a baby’s. ’Course, I imagine Uley would slug me senseless if he ever heard me say that.”
“Yeah,” Aaron said, unconsciously rubbing his elbow. She’d jumped on him like a wildcat and knocked him to the ground, and parts of his body were still smarting from it. “I reckon Uley would.”
Pearsall scooted the stool backward. “Got to get back up front. Wouldn’t want anybody to think I was talking all night to a criminal.” He tipped his hat. “Been nice conversing with you, Brown.”
Aaron sat down hard on his cot. Why didn’t Uley grow whiskers, indeed! It would be easier for a dog to turn into a horse than it would be for Uley Kirkland to grow whiskers. And, as he thought of her, he realized who could go through his belongings and retrieve his stationery from the Grand Central. Beth would have her letter, after all!
Aaron knew he probably couldn’t trust Uley. He also knew he could make her do his bidding. He knew the word for it. A bad, dark word. Blackmail. But just now he didn’t have any other options. “Pearsall!” he hollered, banging on the bars again. “Get in here, will you? I know who I can send to get my things.”
* * *
Uley received his message just after she arrived at the Gold Cup. “Uley! Uley Kirkland!” Charlie Hastings came shouting into shaft eleven, wagging a lantern back and forth, sending waves of light sweeping along the walls. “Old Ben Pearsall’s here with a note from the marshal. Olney wants you to get down to the jail for something.”
Uley groaned. There had been times during the past two days when she’d wished she’d just kept walking and let Aaron Brown go after Harris Olney. She was fast becoming a celebrity in Tin Cup, and it didn’t suit her one bit.
She left the mine astraddle her bay gelding. She gave the horse his head, letting the animal pick his way down the rocks on the steep hill while she fumed. When she got to town, she looped the horse’s bridle over the hitching rail and marched into Olney’s office. “What do you want with me, Harris?”
Olney waved toward the back. “I don’t want anything, Uley. Prisoner sent for you. I wouldn’t have called you out of the mine, but he says he’s got to see you today. Go on back.”
She stomped on through, and there sat Aaron Brown, all alone behind the bars, his head bowed as if in prayer. “I’m going to lose three dollars today because you won’t let me get in a decent day’s work,” she said.
He lifted his head, and his blue eyes were like deep, sparkling water. She figured he probably hadn’t slept all night. He looked awful. If she weren’t feeling so put-upon, she might even have been sad for him this morning. “You’re the only person I know in this place, Uley. I need somebody to help me.”
“I’m not likely to help you. I’m the one who saw you pull the gun on Olney. I’m the chief witness against you.”
“I’m not looking for a lifelong
