Aunt Hortense opened the Sheriff’s door and immediately insisted, “I am here to see Constance. Open the door to wherever you have her confined and let me speak to her.”
The deputy looked up and asked, “Who are you?”
“I am Missus John Walter Montgomery, and I demand to see Constance.”
“Oh, you must be Blake’s aunt. I heard about ya. You’ll have to take a seat and wait. The preacher and his wife are talking to the young lady now, and she can’t have more visitors.”
“I insist.”
“You can insist all you want, but there isn’t enough room for more people back there unless you want to sit in the other empty cell,” the deputy stated.
Aunt Hortense threw her hands in the air. “There appears to be enough space in this room. Bring Constance and her visitors out here.”
“I can’t do that, Ma’am. She’s not allowed out of her cell.”
“Cell?” Aunt Hortense’s voice raised again. “Do you mean to tell me the sheriff actually locked that poor child in a cell?”
The deputy nodded. “We do that with all people arrested for attempted murder.”
“Murder?” Aunt Hortense screeched.
“Yup, she shot Missus Montgomery. That’s attempted murder,” the deputy retorted.
“I’ll have your badge, and the sheriff’s for this,” Aunt Hortense said before sitting in one of the two empty chairs across from the deputy’s desk.
The deputy shrugged. “I hear that a lot, but it’s never happened.”
Aunt Hortense’s glare could have frozen water in the middle of July, but as soon as the door opened and the preacher and his wife stepped out from the holding area, her face brightened with a welcoming smile.
Aunt Hortense stood and said, “I’m Hortense Montgomery, Constance’s friend, and traveling companion. Is she all right? This gentleman won’t allow me to see her.”
“I said not until the preacher leaves. I never said you couldn’t,” the deputy interjected.
The preacher smiled and held out his hand, “I’m Pastor Herbert, and this is my wife, Anna.”
Aunt Hortense shook the offered hand and smiled back, “It’s nice to meet you, Pastor and Missus Herbert. I am most concerned about Constance.”
“She’s resting,” the Pastor said. “My wife and I are going home to bring some comforts for her: clean sheets, a soft pillow, and a warm quilt. The Sheriff assured me if he must arrest anyone while Miss Constance is here, they will be held in a shed at the livery. She won’t be subjected to any unsavory men while in custody.”
“Thank you for that,” Aunt Hortense answered. “I have been worried about her comfort and safety.”
“We’ll do all we can to assure she is as comfortable as possible. The Sheriff has agreed to have the hotel send her meals over three times a day. It’s the best place in town to eat. She will also be afforded as much privacy as a jail allows. I am a bit worried about one thing. She seems distressed, which is expected, but she tends to mumble to herself quite often and loses her place in our conversation.”
Aunt Hortense dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “That’s just her way of dealing with things. She has talked to herself for years. We all do that occasionally.”
The Pastor raised his eyebrows but nodded his understanding and wished Aunt Hortense a good evening.
“Now, may I see Constance,” Aunt Hortense asked the deputy.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he answered and walked her back to the heavy door that separated the office from the holding area. When he opened the door, Aunt Hortense saw a dejected Constance sitting on the edge of a cot pushed up against a brick wall and surrounded on two sides by steel bars. The fourth side of the cell was also brick with a small barred window.
“This is inhumane,” Aunt Hortense shouted and whirled, poking her finger into the deputy’s chest. “Open that door immediately and let her out.”
“I can’t do that, Ma’am. She’s a prisoner.”
“I insist. What do I have to do to get her out? Is their bail? Do I need to get a gun and force you to open the door?” Aunt Hortense asked, glaring at the young deputy.
“No bail, Ma’am and most likely won’t be considering it’s attempted murder, and if you bring a gun in here to try and break her out, I’m gonna have to arrest you. Then you’ll be sharing the cell with her,” the deputy warned.
“All right,” the deputy said. “You can visit for ten minutes. Don’t try nothing. I’ll be right outside the door.”
Aunt Hortense walked up to the cell bars being careful not to touch them and said, “Don’t worry, Constance. I’m going to send for the best lawyer around. You won’t be in this cell for long, and when you’re free, we’ll go back home to New York. There are plenty of fine eligible men for you to marry. Blake isn’t good enough for you. That woman ruined him.”
Constance looked up from the cot she was sitting on. “I tried to get him to love me. I did everything they said, and he still didn’t love me. Shooting her was the only way to get her to leave, and they said I could have Blake. Why isn’t Blake here? They said he would be.”
“Who said?” Aunt Hortense asked.
“You know, my friends,” Constance answered.
Aunt Hortense rolled her eyes. “I told you that you spend too much time in your books. You can’t believe everything you read in those stories.”
“Not in the stories, Miss Hortense. They speak to me like real people. They’re my friends, and they said they’ll help me to get Blake to love me,” Constance insisted.
“All right, dear, just don’t tell anyone else about them. They might not understand,” Aunt Hortense said.
Constance smiled and said, “the Pastor and his wife are back. I like them. He’s very kind.”
Aunt Hortense turned to see the Pastor and his wife carrying the items they promised to bring for Constance.
“I must go now, Constance, dear. I need to move into the hotel and see if there is an answer to my telegram about
