![Dorothy Garlock - [Wyoming Frontier]](https://fs.dianahicksbooks.com/619149/thumbs/152x264/dorothy-garlock-wyoming-frontier.jpg)
basket of flowers on her arm. Could this lady be the wife of that arrogant ass in the office? The Pinkerton man nodded his respects to the lady, plucked his hat from the hand of the servant beside the door, and left the mansion, glad to see the last of Justin Rowe.
The colored servant stood silently until the woman looked his way. He motioned toward the office door. She shook her head in silent answer to his equally silent query. The servant bowed and disappeared into another room. For a moment, the woman held her hand tightly against her breast as if to calm her heartbeat, then took a deep breath and opened the office door.
“Oh, Justin, look at the roses. Aren’t they beautiful?” she asked cheerfully.
The man at the desk gave her a cold stare. “I’m busy, Helga, but you knew that, didn’t you? You saw the detective leave and you’re dying to know what I found out about Garrick.”
“Is that who that was? Oh, my, I thought detectives were big, hard, dangerous-looking men. He looked as mild as a lamb.” Her smile did not reach her eyes. She turned and placed the basket on the wide windowsill.
“You like big, hard, dangerous-looking men, don’t you?” Justin lifted the lid of his cigar box, selected a cigar, and bit off the end. After he blew out the wooden match, he dropped it in the basket beside the desk.
Helga watched the action. She knew when the black mood was on her husband. During the five years of their marriage, she had catalogued in her mind every move he made leading up to an explosion of temper that he would eventually take out on her. First, his voice would soften, and then, always neat and orderly with himself and his belongings, he became even more so. He had dropped the matchstick carefully in the wastebasket instead of breaking it in half and leaving it in the ashtray. It was a sure sign that he wasn’t pleased with what the detective had told him. Helga began to quake inside, but as usual she played the game for as long as she could.
“Of course, Justin. You’re a big, dangerous-looking man, and I love you.”
“You love what I give you, Helga. You would have married the devil in order to live in a place like this.”
“Oh, Justin—”
“The Greek bitch is dead,” he blurted. “Your precious Garrick not only has what my father left to him, but what he left to her. Now he’s richer than I am. Don’t you want to take the next train west? He’s in the wilds of Montana Territory where even you might look good to him.”
“Justin, why can’t you forget Garrick? He’s out of our lives. You’ll never have to see him again.”
“Out of my life? Dear Helga, he’ll never be out of my life until he’s dead. The day my father brought that Greek fortune-hunter into my mother’s house, my life was changed forever. She bewitched him. When she gave him another son, one as dark as a mulatto, he acted as if she had given him everlasting life. From that day on I was shoved aside. The new son was even given a Teutonic name. Garrick, mighty warrior.”
“I’m sure your father didn’t mean to slight you.”
“You know nothing about it, so shut your mouth!” he shouted and jumped to his feet. “The Rowes had been pure Nordic up to that time. Why do you suppose I married a stupid chit like you? You can thank your lucky stars that you’re blond, blue-eyed, pure Caucasian. Our son is the same; his son will be the same, by God, or he’ll not inherit a dime.”
Helga stood with her hands clasped in front of her and looked her husband in the eye. One show of weakness and he would be on her like a hawk on a rabbit. It was always the same. First, he would slap her with the open palm of his hand. It was the only time he struck her in the face, and then he was careful not to leave a mark. Many times she’d had to greet guests when her back, buttocks, stomach and thighs were cut and bleeding from the strap. Worse than the beatings were the sexual assaults that followed. He needed to
The colored servant stood silently until the woman looked his way. He motioned toward the office door. She shook her head in silent answer to his equally silent query. The servant bowed and disappeared into another room. For a moment, the woman held her hand tightly against her breast as if to calm her heartbeat, then took a deep breath and opened the office door.
“Oh, Justin, look at the roses. Aren’t they beautiful?” she asked cheerfully.
The man at the desk gave her a cold stare. “I’m busy, Helga, but you knew that, didn’t you? You saw the detective leave and you’re dying to know what I found out about Garrick.”
“Is that who that was? Oh, my, I thought detectives were big, hard, dangerous-looking men. He looked as mild as a lamb.” Her smile did not reach her eyes. She turned and placed the basket on the wide windowsill.
“You like big, hard, dangerous-looking men, don’t you?” Justin lifted the lid of his cigar box, selected a cigar, and bit off the end. After he blew out the wooden match, he dropped it in the basket beside the desk.
Helga watched the action. She knew when the black mood was on her husband. During the five years of their marriage, she had catalogued in her mind every move he made leading up to an explosion of temper that he would eventually take out on her. First, his voice would soften, and then, always neat and orderly with himself and his belongings, he became even more so. He had dropped the matchstick carefully in the wastebasket instead of breaking it in half and leaving it in the ashtray. It was a sure sign that he wasn’t pleased with what the detective had told him. Helga began to quake inside, but as usual she played the game for as long as she could.
“Of course, Justin. You’re a big, dangerous-looking man, and I love you.”
“You love what I give you, Helga. You would have married the devil in order to live in a place like this.”
“Oh, Justin—”
“The Greek bitch is dead,” he blurted. “Your precious Garrick not only has what my father left to him, but what he left to her. Now he’s richer than I am. Don’t you want to take the next train west? He’s in the wilds of Montana Territory where even you might look good to him.”
“Justin, why can’t you forget Garrick? He’s out of our lives. You’ll never have to see him again.”
“Out of my life? Dear Helga, he’ll never be out of my life until he’s dead. The day my father brought that Greek fortune-hunter into my mother’s house, my life was changed forever. She bewitched him. When she gave him another son, one as dark as a mulatto, he acted as if she had given him everlasting life. From that day on I was shoved aside. The new son was even given a Teutonic name. Garrick, mighty warrior.”
“I’m sure your father didn’t mean to slight you.”
“You know nothing about it, so shut your mouth!” he shouted and jumped to his feet. “The Rowes had been pure Nordic up to that time. Why do you suppose I married a stupid chit like you? You can thank your lucky stars that you’re blond, blue-eyed, pure Caucasian. Our son is the same; his son will be the same, by God, or he’ll not inherit a dime.”
Helga stood with her hands clasped in front of her and looked her husband in the eye. One show of weakness and he would be on her like a hawk on a rabbit. It was always the same. First, he would slap her with the open palm of his hand. It was the only time he struck her in the face, and then he was careful not to leave a mark. Many times she’d had to greet guests when her back, buttocks, stomach and thighs were cut and bleeding from the strap. Worse than the beatings were the sexual assaults that followed. He needed to
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