Pemberley Ranch - Jack Caldwell [84]
“I wasn’t there,” claimed Thorpe.
“Sure, you weren’t. Like I’d trust your word.”
Sheriff Lucas spoke up, “Thorpe, get your people outta here. Now—git!” The four riders took off down the hill, heading for town.
An annoyed Fitz walked up to the lawman. “Lucas, why did you let ’em go? I’m sure they had somethin’ to do with—”
The sheriff cut him off. “Now’s not the time, Fitz! We’ve got a funeral to finish. Let me do my job at my own pace.”
“And when’s that time gonna be?” Fitz shouted back. Beth could see that Charlotte was distressed over the argument.
William took Fitz by the arm. “That’s enough,” he told his foreman, staring him in the eye. Fitz grunted and William turned to Tilney. “Henry? Can we go on?”
Henry patted the driver on the shoulder, and the wagon rolled into the cemetery.
The last strains of “Shall We Gather at the River” had long since floated across the plains when the people left the cemetery to the sounds of the gravediggers completing their task. By the time Darcy helped Gaby into the carriage that had been brought up from town, the Bennets and the others were already halfway down the road. Darcy wished he could have taken his leave of Beth, and disappointed, he took out his frustration with Fitzwilliam.
“What the hell do you think you were doing, challenging Sheriff Lucas like that? What did you hope to accomplish?”
Fitz was taken aback at his employer’s anger. “I was just pointin’ out to that old fool that he ain’t doin’ his job. You’re not defending him, are you?”
Darcy took a moment to compose himself. “Look, I’m not saying that Lucas is the best sheriff we’ve ever had, but he’s got an almost impossible job. It’s one thing to suspect something, but it’s a whole other thing to be able to prove something in court. Will you look around at what’s going on?” He lowered his voice. “I suspect the same things as you, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Lucas was of the same mind. But he’s got to have evidence, and even then, he’s got to convince a judge. Who is that judge, Fitz?”
“Phillips,” Fitz said. “But can’t he get another judge? Y’know—conflict of interest?”
Darcy nodded. “And he’s got to be able to prove that, too. There’s nothing easy about this—nothing at all. Lucas is in a trap.”
“So, what do we do?”
“There’s a town meeting called for tomorrow night. I aim to be there, and you can come along. Then we’ll see.” He half-turned and added, as if an afterthought, “Fitz, you might want to back off Lucas a little. It isn’t doing your suit for Miss Charlotte any good.”
Fitz’s jaw dropped. “How… how do you know about that?”
Gaby smiled from her seat in the carriage. “Oh, Fitz, everybody knows about that.” Darcy grinned as he took his seat next to his sister.
“See you back at the ranch, Fitz.” With a quick twitch of the reins, the horses pulled away, leaving an astonished Richard Fitzwilliam in its wake.
The next night found Thomas Bennet sitting in a pew next to Dr. Bingley in the Rosings Baptist Church, attending an emergency town meeting. Oil lamps and candles lit the interior of the church, the pews filled with shopkeepers, cowboys, and others. Most of the men in town were there, all talking about the attack on the Washingtons.
Bennet noticed George Whitehead standing with Judge Phillips, Kid Denny, and Billy Collins in a corner, talking amongst themselves. The sight bothered him, for Bennet had been deeply troubled by the incident at the cemetery. He had not known that Denny’s people had been bushwhackers in the war, and he was uneasy with George’s connection with them. He remembered that he had told Beth that she should put the war behind her, but what Quantrill had done was nothing but murder in Bennet’s eyes. He wasn’t sure he could forgive a man for that, and he