Pemberley Ranch - Jack Caldwell [123]
“Oh, shut your piehole, Collins, or it’ll be your brains all over Whitehead! How d’you wanna handle this, Will?”
“This rifle’s getting heavy,” Darcy said. “Cover him, will you?” Beth heard Fitzwilliam command Collins to move slowly off Whitehead—there was the sound of metal on wood—and now two arms held her close.
There was the sound of more arrivals as Fitzwilliam whistled. “Ooo-wee! You plugged this sum-bitch square in the right eye, Will! Blew the back of his cotton-pickin’ head clean out! No wonder Collins is cryin’ like a baby. Damn good shootin’.”
Darcy’s voice was ice-cold. “Right eye? Then I missed, Fitz. I was aiming for the bridge of the bastard’s nose. Sorry to make such a mess, Collins.”
Beth whimpered and drove her face deeper into his vest.
“Darcy…” Bennet’s voice carried a warning.
“Sorry.” To Beth, Darcy repeated, “I’m sorry, darlin’.”
“It’s okay,” she shakily returned. “Just hold me.”
In a lighter tone, Darcy asked, “Far be it that I look a gift horse in the mouth, but what the hell are y’all doing here, Fitz? I thought I told you to guard Pemberley.”
Fitz laughed, “You did, an’ that’s just what I was doin’, ’cept we got real worried about the wagon not showin’ up last night. About an hour before dawn, Gaby had enough an’ ordered me to take some boys an’ see what the delay was.”
“Ordered you? Gaby?”
“Damn right, she did! Said, ‘With my brother gone, I’m in charge of Pemberley, and you’d best do as you’re told!’ Sounded just like you, boss!”
Darcy laughed, and Beth couldn’t help joining him. She chanced a glimpse at Fitzwilliam, keeping her eyes away from the wreckage that was once George Whitehead.
“Well,” said Darcy, “I’m mighty glad to see you, Fitz. When I saw y’all charging across that rise, I never been so happy to see an order of mine disobeyed in my life!”
“Me too,” Bennet added. “You saved us all, Fitzwilliam.”
The crowd moved closer to get a better look—Beth estimated it was about a half-dozen—when there was a disruption. The men parted before a short, female figure.
“Lily!” cried her father. He tried to pull her away from the scene, but she would have none of it; she fought him off and approached the body, whimpering.
“George? George? Are you dead, George? Are you dead?”
Bennet tried again. “Lily, please—come away from there.”
“No!” she screamed. The glare in her eyes, tinged with a hint of madness, held everyone at bay. She drew closer to Whitehead. The girl had changed into plain dress, and the makeup was washed from her face. She looked like the Lily of before, but there was something that told Beth that that girl was gone forever.
“George? Why, George? Why did you do it? Why did you throw me away—why did you give me to… to Denny? How could you betray me? I loved you, George. I gave you everything. Do you understand? Everything!”
Beth could no longer watch and turned again into Will’s strong chest.
“No—don’t touch me, Father! Did you know what that did to me, George? Did you know what he did to me? Did you? Damn you, did you?” She punctuated her screams with kicks to Whitehead’s limp body. She kicked him again and again, crying, “Damn you to hell! Damn you to hell!” in time with her kicks. The sound of foot striking body pounded into Beth’s head, again and again.
Beth’s nightmare only ended when Bennet was finally able to control her hysterical sister and carry her back to the house. Everyone stood silent—the only sound was Lily’s anguished howls.
A lone rider dashed hell bent for leather in the early morning light.
Normally, Pyke would be scared stiff riding on uneven terrain on a strange horse, but he was too terrified to worry about what he was doing. Unlike everyone else, he had recognized the Pemberley riders as soon as they made the top of the ridge. At Denny’s fall, he instantly knew the game was up, no matter what happened to Whitehead, and Pyke’s only thought now was escape. In the chaos of the battle, he had been able to secure a horse and slip away unnoticed. He took no chances; he rode like a demon, crouched down