Lawless Liberty Ch. 05

"That's why I needed to tell you myself. I wanted to give you something. Something a friend left for him. You could give it to her when she's older," I say, opening my bag, and extending Liberty's pistol to her.

"Someone left Justin a gun?" she asks, and I nod with a small chuckle.

"Long story," I say, and she accepts it. "You said you hadn't named her yet. She'd be over a year old, what have you been calling her?"

"Baby names. Honey, baby, sweetie," Rosaline says, and I smile. "I was hoping he could help me with that. I hesitated because I didn't want him to come from a sense of obligation."

"What are you going to name her now?" I ask, and she shrugs, then looks at the pistol.

"What's the name of the person who owned the gun?" she asks. I do not want to say Liberty. I think about it, and the gun did not belong to her either.

"Conrad," I say, and she smiles.

"Constance Culligan," she says, and I smile back. "Thank you for coming yourself. It means more than you know."

I give her a small tip of my hat but let her know I must catch the train that is departing in a few hours. It might take me a few hours just to find my way back to it.

--

December 25, 1883

-Constance Abigail Liberty Thurgood-

Lawless Liberty is dead. She was killed in a three-way standoff with the law, the Twenty-Two Bust Gang, and herself. She is buried in a shallow grave. The only part of her left is the signature weapon she killed her victims with. Taken as a trophy by the lawman who did it. Lawless Liberty is dead. I am just Connie again.

I rode all the way to California, not sure how I planned to start over. You would be amazed how easy getting a job is when you are one of the few who can read, write, and type. In almost no time I find work as a secretary for a lawyer. It is meager work, but I am more fortunate than plenty of other people.

Matthew is the junior partner of the two names outside the building. I do not remember the last time I had enough breathing room to notice men who were noticing me. I do not recall the last time I felt flattered. I am so out of practice I do not know how to rebuff advances, and I am in his bed in no time. I am his wife just before Christmas.

Maybe one day I will tell him who I was. That in a previous life, I went around the country and shot men who had a part to play in killing my brother. That Lawless Liberty is not truly dead. She is just retired. For now, I just want to enjoy my new beginning.

We are working on Christmas, Matthew in his office and me at the desk in front of the door typing away. I hear his footsteps approaching and watch his door open.

"I keep telling you, there is no N in Krammer," Matthew says, holding up the document that I mistyped my own new last name on. I spelled it as Kramner.

"Maybe there should be. How many Krammers are there? It's distinguishing," I say with a grin, and he laughs. He cannot stay mad at me. Besides, I would win the fight. I think he senses I would. He has obviously seen the scars on my body.

"Two Ms, no N," he says, and retreats to his office. Within a year, I know I will get him to change it.

--

July 17, 1890

-Karen French-

Wyoming has been a state for a week, and the world already feels different. Daddy could not even imagine a woman being allowed to vote. Wyoming said that I could in their constitution. I am sure when he reads that, it will be the heart attack that finally kills him.

Hilbert and I have been in Wyoming for a year, building our home which was finally complete last month. Only a few short weeks later, it was in a new state. I figure a tailor would be good with his hands, but Hilbert can build anything. He built this house with his bare hands. Under budget and ahead of schedule to boot. Some people took notice, and now he is traveling around the area, helping people build up their homes. For a fee of course.

Hank and Peter and rolling around in the grass just off the porch, but I will not tell them to stop until it gets too rough. Boys need to wrestle. It gets the aggression out and teaches them their limits, and the limits of others. Their older sister Casey is further out, but not out of my sight. She is learning about gold prospecting and is certain our land is a treasure trove. Jenny is still following me around, holding onto the seam of my dress.

We had four babies in six years. The boys are twins, but they still count as two. Casey is six, the boys are four, and Jenny is three. Sometimes I think I want Hilbert to sleep in the barn, so we will not have another. I would if I did not enjoy sex so much.

"Mama! Mama!" I hear Casey shout from the distance. I quickly snap to my feet.

"Casey!" I shout, afraid she is in trouble. Did a critter bite her?

"I found gold!" she says, and I laugh a little. She probably found an old shell casing that is still shiny and brass. That is not worthless either. I can resell that for a penny.

"Well bring it here sweetie," I say, and she comes running. I take a sip of my tea, pick up Jenny, and put her on my lap as I have a seat. I hear her little feet stomping up the porch a minute later. Casey is so excited she is out of breath, and I am shaking my head in advance of the not gold she is about to show me.

"See mama. Gold!"

I drop my drink which shatters on the porch. In the hands of my six-year-old daughter, is a dusty bar, of very real gold.