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Earl lifted an eyebrow, wondering exactly what Morris would do to convince the chief, yet his thoughts were interrupted by a sight from the window of the office. He saw Maysie riding at the back of a wagon that was headed into Seattle.
He smiled to himself. Maybe she was gone for good. He hoped.
“And how’s Elizabeth?” Morris asked, rising from the chair, to place an arm around Earl’s shoulder.
Earl looked at Morris. The empty feeling rushed back. He had no answers at all about his darling Elizabeth.
* * *
Maysie clung to the wagon as it rattled along the dirt road. She had gotten permission from Everett to go with him into Seattle. Unable to bear being at Elizabeth’s house in her absence and feeling guilty because of it, Maysie had decided to leave. She didn’t believe that Elizabeth would ever return. She had been gone for too long. There were too many wicked men in the world to believe Elizabeth would come out of this abduction alive.
She sat listlessly on the tailgate of the wagon, wondering how she was going to live. It was better to die than to return to her former life! She could walk into the Sound right now, and no one would save her. She would not allow it!
Making her decision, she jumped from the wagon and ran toward the crashing waves of the Sound. She walked into the water without looking back. But again a voice yelling to her caused her to stop. She remembered how Elizabeth had yelled at her, and had then risked her life to save her.
She could not resist turning around, to see if it could possibly be Elizabeth.
The sky was darkening overhead, dusk coming on, so Maysie could not tell whether or not it was Elizabeth. But the hair coloring of the lady standing beside a fancy carriage was identical.
Hoping that somehow Elizabeth was there, safe and sound, Maysie worked her way back to the shore. She walked, breathlessly toward the road. The lady came forward to meet her.
“Child, why on earth would you want to kill yourself?” the woman fussed, lifting her shawl from her own shoulders and placing it around Maysie’s. “You come with me. Let me get you warmed at my house and then we can talk this over.”
Maysie was disappointed that she wasn’t Elizabeth. But she was stunned by the resemblance. This lady was as beautiful as Elizabeth. Her hair was stunningly red. Her eyes were a soft, captivating green. Their faces were almost identical, yet this lady had to be at least twenty years older than Elizabeth.
No matter how much Maysie wanted it to be Elizabeth, she had to accept that someone besides Elizabeth had saved her this time. She couldn’t find it in herself to try again. And this lady seemed just as kind as Elizabeth.
The woman placed an arm around Maysie’s tiny waist and led her to the fancy carriage, helping her inside. Once they settled on the plush cushions, the woman commanded the driver to return to her house “promptly.”
Maysie shivered and accepted a blanket around her shoulders. “You are way too kind,” she said, her teeth chattering. “Thank you.”
“My name is Marilyn,” the woman said softly, smoothing a stray lock of dark hair back from Maysie’s brow. “Care to tell me yours?”
Feeling that she could trust this lady, Maysie replied, “Maysie. You can call me Maysie.”
“Well, Maysie, it’s good to make your acquaintance.” Marilyn ran her hand down her fully gathered, silk dress. Its shade of green matched her hat trimmed with flowers at the brim.
Maysie smiled meekly at Marilyn. Then, so quickly it seemed, the buggy had come to a halt. “We’re at my house,” Marilyn announced, nodding a thank you to the driver as he opened the door and stepped aside. “Come. Let’s see to getting you warmed.”
Maysie started to leave the carriage, then stopped in confusion when she recognized the mansion. She remembered it well from when she had envied those women who worked there instead of in the tawdry places along the waterfront. She had heard that this brothel was the best in Seattle, its furnishings and its women breathtakingly beautiful.
But she no longer wanted such a life. Not after having met Elizabeth, and seeing her wholesomeness.
No. She would definitely die first!
“Why do you hesitate?” Marilyn asked, drawing Maysie’s attention.
“Ma’am I don’t want no part of a brothel,” Maysie said, swallowing hard.
“Yes, I do manage a brothel,” Marilyn said, placing a gloved hand to Maysie’s cheek. “But that doesn’t mean that you have to work in it just because I bring you here to make you warm and comfortable. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
Marilyn gazed admiringly at Maysie’s well-endowed figure, then at her angelic face. This young lady could bring top dollar from the men caller
s.
But Marilyn would never force this life on anyone—a life that even she did not totally approve of. She, herself, no longer took gentlemen to her bed. She supervised, only supervised.
“If you are sure,” Maysie said, still hesitating.
