Pariah by J. R. Roberts Page A

Clint came up empty. Sometimes the other woman spoke about Maddy as if she was an enemy, and other times she seemed to truly miss her. Looking down upon the grave, however, Clint had to admit it was too late to worry over what Mary thought about the subject.
    From what Clint had heard about China Mary, damn near anything was possible. Just about everyone in Tombstone knew that she was the one to talk to if you had to satisfy any need in Hop Town. Mary ran the whores, the gambling, and the drug trade in that part of town. If you needed anything else after walking past Third and Toughnut streets, Mary could get it for you.
    Opinions differed on how Mary ran her businesses. Some said she was as hard as she needed to be, while others called her a small-time dictator. Like anyone else who worked in those kinds of trades, she had gunmen and leg breakers on her payroll right along with the working girls and attendants at her opium den. Some said those gunmen were merely for protection, while others claimed that China Mary had ordered the deaths of anyone who stood in her way.
    Having been on the receiving end of plenty of nasty rumors, Clint knew to take them all with a grain of salt. Looking into Mary’s eyes and hearing the razor edge in her voice, Clint found it easy to see where some of the nastier rumors about the little woman had come from.
    â€œHow’d she die?” Clint asked.
    Mary looked at him with one subtly raised eyebrow.
    Tired of going back and forth with the Chinese woman, Clint snapped, “Tell me!”
    â€œKyle Morrow killed her. That’s all you need to know. That’s all you want to know.”
    â€œWhen did this happen?”
    â€œThe night after that one—” Seeing the fire in Clint’s eyes, Mary started again. “The night after Lylah disappear. He came looking for her, but I didn’t know what to tell him. Madeline was there as well. She came to help Lylah and some of the others. I. . . I let some of the youngest ones go with her.” When saying that last part, Mary sounded as if she were confessing a sin.
    â€œI get enough girls that work for me who want to be there,” Mary continued. “Sometimes, I pay to bring them on. But I don’t need slaves. That’s messy business. Too messy. But I used to be like some of these younger ones. If I get the chance, I let them go with Maddy. There’s not much else I can do for them. If they come back to me, though, it’s not good. Make me look bad!”
    So it seemed Maddy hadn’t been a pariah in just her own town. It was also clear she wasn’t the only one in Tombstone. “Are there any others still here?”
    â€œWhat others?”
    â€œOthers like her,” he said while pointing at Lylah. “Others who need somewhere else to go.”
    Mary shook her head. “Maddy had been here not too long ago to get a few. I wasn’t expecting her to come again so quick. Lylah was the only one who wanted to go, and it cost Maddy’s life. I get enough girls who want to work for me. I pay good and keep them fed. Too risky to use the girls that Kyle Morrow sells.”
    Considering the law in Tombstone included the Earp brothers, who had occasional help from the likes of Bat Masterson, Mary was dead-on with her assessment. “All right, then,” he said. “Where can I find Kyle Morrow?”
    Mary turned away from the grave and said, “I don’t know and I don’t care. The less I know about him, the better.”
    â€œI want to find him. What can you do for me?”
    â€œWhy do you want to find him?” Mary asked. “Because of what he did to Maddy?”
    â€œIsn’t that a good enough reason?”
    â€œKyle Morrow has done worse, and when he is gone, there will be plenty others to step in and keep doing those same things. Perhaps they think of some new things to do to some new people. Even if half the stories about the Gunsmith are true,