Pemberley Ranch - Jack Caldwell [83]
The procession continued in silence to the major crossroads of the town, passing Younge’s Saloon before turning onto the North Road. Outside the barroom lounged two men, whispering to each other. Beth recognized one of them as Kid Denny, which set off another series of questions in her head. If Fitz was needed at Pemberley to keep things running, why was Denny absent from the B&R? She saw William look hard at the man, which drew a laugh from the gunfighter as he leaned back against the wall, a nasty smirk on his face.
The incident alarmed and angered Beth. Seeing Whitehead’s cohort mock the funeral procession reinforced the nagging feeling she had that George knew more about the outrage than he was letting on. I can forgive Will for having fought for the Confederacy, she thought, but I certainly won’t pardon Denny! I can see why Denny is friends with Whitehead—two bad men found each other.
Soon, the wagon reached the northern outskirts of town and began the ascent up the slight hill to the cemetery. The party had gone halfway up the narrow lane when four men on horseback appeared and blocked the way to the graveyard’s gate. Beth recognized one of them as Wilkerson, the B&R hand who had driven her to the Burroughses’ house back in July.
Henry called from his perch on the wagon, “Make way, gentlemen.”
The man next to Wilkerson appeared to be the leader. “Not so fast, Preacher. You mean to plant them slaves in this here cemetery?”
Henry was enraged. “What business is it of yours, Nathan Thorpe? Stand aside!”
“You ain’t puttin’ no slaves in a white man’s cemetery,” the man identified as Thorpe repeated. He pointed out at the open range. “If you gotta stick ’em in the ground, there’s plenty of room out there—not in here.” His companions nodded, and one carried a rifle.
“Or maybe that Papist place across th’ river,” suggested Wilkerson with a sneer. “I heard they’d take anybody.”
Beth thought that William would be angry at the insult from Wilkerson, but the tall rancher stood calmly in front of Gaby, shielding her, his face showing no expression.
It was Sheriff Lucas who responded. “That’s enough of that!” he thundered. “You’ve got no right to stop these people, Thorpe.”
Thorpe patted his holstered revolver. “Stay outta this if’n you know what’s good for ya, Sheriff.”
Beth’s anger turned to fear. She grasped Mary’s hand as Mr. Bennet jumped in front of her mother—
And then there was the unmistakable sound of numerous rifles being cocked.
“Stand easy, Thorpe. You’re surrounded,” drawled a familiar voice. Beth didn’t need Charlotte’s gasp of relief to know it was Richard Fitzwilliam.
Thorpe, Wilkerson, and the other gunmen looked around them in shock. Peeking out from behind trees and headstones were armed men, their rifles steady on their targets.
“Not too smart, Thorpe, scarin’ off the gravediggers an’ failing to reconnoiter the area properly,” Fitz mocked the man. “Now, drop them gun belts!” A moment later, the four horsemen disarmed themselves.
William spoke for the first time. “Good work, Fitz.”
Lucas turned to the rancher. “You knew this was gonna happen?”
William shrugged his shoulders. The implications of that gesture astonished and delighted Beth—Will had foreseen what was going to happen and sent his best man to prevent any trouble.
“No violence!” cried Henry. “Thorpe, let us pass.”
“Yeah,” added Lucas, “you can pick up your guns at the jail later.”
“Not so fast, Lucas,” Fitz said, keeping his rifle armed at Thorpe. “You may want to ask these fellas about their whereabouts a few nights ago. Thorpe an’ Wilkerson rode with Quantrill’s outlaws, if I remember rightly.”
“Outlaw? I was a soldier, same as you!” Thorpe insisted.
“I don’t call what happened in Lawrence the work of a soldier, bushwhacker. Tell me—how many boys did you kill?”
Beth gasped; she had