Pemberley Ranch - Jack Caldwell [16]
“She’s a bit of a tomboy, isn’t she?”
Bingley shrugged. “She grew up on a farm, Will. What did you expect?” He elbowed his friend with a grin. “She sure cleaned up nice, though. Almost as pretty as my Jane.”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed. Yes, Beth Bennet looked very pretty in a proper lady’s dress. But he couldn’t get out of his mind the way her dungarees showed her backside to advantage in the saddle…
Bingley’s low voice cut in. “Uhh, Will, don’t look now, but Whitehead’s talking to Gaby.”
Darcy’s eyes flew to his sister. Halfway across the room, George Whitehead had engaged Jane Bingley and Gaby Darcy in conversation. Jane was as polite as ever, but Gaby wore a slightly panicked expression.
“God dammit!” growled Darcy under his breath.
Bingley was grim. “I didn’t want to invite that son-of-a-bitch, but he’s a friend of Mr. Bennet’s. I couldn’t say no without causin’ a ruckus, and then I’d have to explain—”
“I understand, Charles. Nothing you could do. You’d think that no-good dog would stay away from her, after the last time.”
Bingley glanced at Darcy. “You’re not goin’ to cause trouble, are you? Whitehead’s pretty popular ’round here.”
“Then folks need to make better friends.” Darcy took a breath and slowly and resolutely walked over to his sister, Bingley trailing behind. His stare would have burned a hole into George Whitehead’s face. His target was aware of the scrutiny, the sardonic look he returned an obvious challenge. Fists clenched, Darcy stopped a couple of feet away.
“Good afternoon, Darcy,” said Whitehead with seeming affability. “I see you managed to tear yourself away from your ranch and grace us with your presence. We’ve greatly missed you and your sister, who I can say is lovelier than ever. Wonderful day for a wedding, wouldn’t you say?”
Stone-faced, Darcy gestured at his sister, who quickly came to his side. “Mrs. Bingley, I beg your pardon.” He then turned his attention to the smirking man before him. In a low, calm voice, he said, “Whitehead, I told you to stay away from my family.”
Whitehead indicated the room. “But this is not Pemberley Ranch, this is Rosings. Your power doesn’t extend here. I’m appointed by Governor Davis, and last I heard, you are not he. I have legal authority in this county.”
“As recorder of deeds—a clerk—as long as General Reynolds’s puppet remains in office, which won’t be forever, from what I’ve heard. We’ve been readmitted to the Union, and all of us Texans now have the right to vote, as you’ll find out in a couple of years. Your army won’t be able to steal the election then. I’ll tell you one last time, Whitehead—stay away from my family. This is my final warning.”
“That sounds like a threat, Darcy.”
“A promise, Whitehead. Mrs. Bingley, again forgive me. C’mon, Gaby—we’re leaving.” Darcy took his sister lightly by the arm and turned away.
“I can have you arrested for threatening me,” Whitehead claimed, causing Darcy to look sideways at him.
“You can try. You come on by Pemberley, and you’ll learn my boys will be waiting for you. You and your hired killers.” He gestured at the bar with his head before walking to the door, the crowd parting before him.
It may have been a Baptist wedding, but the bar was still open, and Fitz was enjoying a beer when he noted his boss across the room staring at someone. Instantly coming alert, he saw George Whitehead talking to Gaby Darcy. Fitz turned around, leaning his back against the bar, watching the action as Darcy walked over to his enemy. He noted a movement by a man down a ways from him.
From the corner of his eye he saw it was Kid Denny, a gunfighter supposedly working at the B&R Ranch, but Fitz knew better. The man was so intently watching the confrontation he didn’t notice at first Fitz moving towards him.
“Afternoon, Denny.” Fitz stopped next to him.
“Whatta ya want, Fitzwilliam?” the gunman demanded.
“Just bein’ neighborly. Nice day for a weddin’, ain’t it?”
“Get lost.” Denny turned back to the quiet confrontation, his hand slipping