Read Online Love Her Madly by Mary-Ann Tirone Smith - Free Book Online

leather shiny but with a patina that muted the shine to a lovely warm glow. A nice leather jacket hung on a hook behind him, and a Stetson, a perfect sculpture, white and solid as if carved from bone, rested on the shelf above.
    I hoped I’d be able to see a view of the mountain from the window—we were just high enough to see over the top of the post oaks. On the map I got from the library, I noticed that the highest elevation in the Gatesville area had in fact been something called South Mountain. Through the window, I looked south. The highest hill seemed ever so slightly higher than the second highest.
    I said to the warden, “Is that South Mountain?”
    â€œYes, Agent, it is.”
    I’d say the elevation of South Mountain was maybe nine hundred inches. There was no mountain. Someone gave the women’s death row its name as a joke.
    Beyond the prison complex I made out a narrow line of muddy water, one of those creeks the army engineers had impounded and turned into Belton Lake. The prison fields were surrounded by a wetland that spread out into the far distance. State School Road had been laid across a swamp, the houses on either side built on fill.
    The warden said, “So you’ve come to speak to the prisoner.”
    I turned from the window. “Yes, I have. But there are a few things I’d like to know before I do.”
    â€œFor instance?”
    â€œWhen will she be transported to Huntsville?”
    â€œRona Leigh’s not goin’ anywhere.”
    â€œI’m sorry? I understood…”
    â€œThe death house in Huntsville is smack in the center of town. It’s a big brick box, takes up two city blocks. The Walls. Nickname ’cause that’s what you see: walls. The holding pen is in the Walls too. We’ve decided we can’t send her to a unit where the population is entirely men. If we do they will become, let’s say, agitated. The law says executions shall be carried out at the Walls. However, the wording doesn’t say women shall be executed there, it says men. So we were able to get around it. Rona Leigh will die right here at her home, something all of us wish for when it comes time for our own passin’. It’ll be real hard on my corrections officers. The guards. They’ve all come to know her. Whereas at the Walls, the boys execute strangers. So I’ve had to make clear to our own boys that they’re just cogs in the wheels. The people responsible for the execution of Rona Leigh Glueck are her jury, her arrestin’ officers, ex cetra. The governor himself.
    â€œThe holding pen is in our death house, in the same building as the execution chamber. The execution will be carried out on my turf, and I intend to do my turf proud.”
    He sounded like the father of the bride.
    I said, “Will the details be the same? I mean, the holding pen, for example. Is it a cage?”
    â€œNothing could describe it better. It just arrived from the manufacturer three days ago.”
    â€œWhere is the building?”
    He rose and joined me at the window. He pointed.
    â€œSee just inside the front gate? The little bungalow? Used to be a rest station for the watch guards, if they needed a little nap during their break. It’s been converted to a death house. It’s not quite ready. End of the week.”
    â€œMay I have a look?”
    â€œCan’t see why not.”
    He took a key from a wall safe and grabbed his Stetson. Same one that the Texas Rangers wear. He set it on his head at a perfect angle without having to look in a mirror.
    Outside, we climbed into his pickup for the fifty-yard trip. I asked him, “Have you spent much time with her?”
    â€œYes, Agent, I certainly have. She is allowed to ask to speak to her warden. I have accommodated Rona Leigh as to all reasonable requests, just as I have accommodated yours. And that brings me to a request of my own. Strictly based on curiosity. I think I am