Pemberley Ranch - Jack Caldwell [114]
Darcy stared at his man, while José cursed something in Spanish. “They’ll be coming ’ere, boss,” he told Darcy. “What’ll we do with the women?”
“We can’t go through town,” said Ethan. “They’ll see us for sure.”
“Can we cross at the ford?” suggested a voice from the darkness.
“No,” said Bennet. “The water’s still too high from the rains. We’d be washed away.”
Darcy’s eye was caught by a glint of light from the hilltop, as the lookout used a mirror to flash a warning in the moonlight.
Riders.
Darcy’s insides turned to ice. They were trapped and out of time.
RIDING IN THE MOONLIGHT at the head of his army towards the Bennet place, a very angry George Whitehead wondered how everything could have gone so wrong so fast.
Whitehead had taken Collins and Denny to Fort Worth for a sort of victory celebration. The railroad was about ready to start buying up the useless bottomland he had stolen from Mrs. Burroughs. Everything had been in place. The riches from the railroad would allow him to turn his twenty-five thousand into his own political kingdom. Soon, either Miss Gaby or Miss Anne would be Mrs. Whitehead, and with them came half the county. With land and army, he would conquer the rest. After that—who knew? The governor’s house in Austin? A senator’s seat in Washington, D.C.? All things were possible.
Whitehead’s first clue that things might not be going exactly to plan was when his spy, Elton, told him that Darcy was one of the investors in the railroad. Elton assured him that the rancher was unaware that anyone else in Rosings knew of the project, but Whitehead was uneasy with this turn of circumstance. He chewed over this intelligence during the ride back to Rosings, wondering if adjustments to the plan might be necessary. However, upon his arrival in town he discovered that Darcy knowing of the railroad was the least of his worries.
All of George Whitehead’s dreams were threatened by a whore named Lily.
Whitehead cursed under his breath. I knew I should have sent that slut back to her father’s place when she showed up at the back door. I knew it! But she was so young, so ripe, so eager. Dammit!
Whitehead stole a glance at Denny riding beside him. The damned fool was infatuated with Lily and demanded her in lieu of the hundreds Whitehead had promised. A bigger fool, Whitehead had agreed to the trade. He should have known better. Had his own bitter and unforgiving mother not shown him that there was no fury like a scorned woman? He should have had the girl killed.
Now everything Whitehead had built—everything that he had planned, dreamed, and killed for—teetered on the edge of the abyss. There was only one thing to do. What he could not win by guile he would take by the gun.
Two by two the riders moved along the trail leading from the main road to the house. Soon the party had formed a semicircle before the dark building, Denny in the middle and Whitehead over to his right. At the end was Billy Collins. Whitehead had insisted his pet bank manager accompany him on this bloody mission. He could not afford to lose any allies now, and after a few minutes’ work, Collins would be tied to him once and for all, being as guilty of murder as the rest.
Kid Denny rose in his saddle. “Bennet! Tom Bennet! This is Denny! Come out, Bennet! I’ve got an order of foreclosure, an’ I means to enforce it! Come out, Bennet, or we’ll come in after you!”
The gang sat in the moonlight before the house, fingering their guns. They saw no light. The only sign of life was a light smoke rising from the chimney.
Then the front door opened a crack. “Well, hello there, Denny! A bit early for visiting, ain’t it?” Mr. Bennet’s sardonic voice came from inside the darkened doorway.
“Come out, Bennet, an’ nobody gets hurt!”
Bennet’s voice was mocking. “Now, why would I believe that, Denny? Why would I leave my house?”
Denny held up a sheet of paper. “I’ve got me a proper order of