Conor's Way (49 page)

Olivia was so tired that by the time all the
neighbors left to return to their own farms, she was ready to
collapse. Oren and Kate departed last, after Olivia assured them at
least three times that she and the girls would be fine and didn't
need them to stay. She knew they had their own family to see to.
Besides, what she needed right now was not company. She needed a
cool bath, a change of clothes, and Conor to hold her.

But Conor wasn't here to hold her. She and
the girls had been combing the woods, searching for stray
livestock that had escaped the fire, and she had not noticed his
departure until after she'd rounded up her few remaining chickens
and hogs and put them in the stable with Princess and Cally. He had
borrowed Oren's horse and gone to town. Oren had not told her why,
but she knew the fire was no accident, and she had realized where
Conor had gone.

She leaned back against the wall of the
stable and stared at the charred remains of her barn. The idea of
him confronting Vernon and what might happen made her sick with
worry. Vernon might not do anything to her or the girls, but Conor
was a different matter. She closed her eyes and prayed for his safe
return. If anything happened to him because of her refusal to
sell—

"Mama?"

Olivia turned at the sound
of Becky's voice and studied the somber faces of her three
daughters, who stood behind her inside the stable, their faces
streaked with soot and tears and sweat. Chester, also covered with
soot, stood beside them. She remembered Conor's words of a month
ago.
It's not worth a fight, Olivia. It's
not worth it
. She walked over to them,
opened her arms, and enfolded all three of her daughters in a hug.
"Everything's going to be fine," she said, trying to believe it
herself. "Just fine."

She pulled back. "C'mon," she said, "let's
get you girls cleaned up."

She started out the door of the stable, but
the sound of hoof beats brought her to a halt, and she watched as
Vernon rode around the side of the house and into the yard,
followed by Joshua and Earl Harlan. Chester halted beside her and
began to bark.

Fear shot through Olivia, and her first
thought was to keep the girls away. She turned to her oldest
daughter. "Becky, take your sisters out at the other end of the
stable and go to the Johnsons'. Take Chester with you. Tell Oren
that Vernon's here, and I need help."

"Why?" Becky leaned forward, trying to see
the men who had ridden into the yard, but Olivia grabbed her by the
shoulders and turned her around.

"Just do it," she said, giving the girl a
push toward the door at the other end. "Run as fast as you can.
Go."

Becky grabbed each of her sisters by the
hand. "C'mon, Chester," she said. The three girls and the dog ran
out of the stable and headed for the Johnson farm. Olivia would
have gone with them, but she had to find out what had happened to
Conor. She waited until she saw the girls and Chester disappear
into the dense woods, then she left the stable and walked across
the yard.

Vernon saw her approach. He wrapped the reins
of his roan stallion around the porch rail, then moved to stand by
the steps. The Harlan boys followed suit.

As she approached, she felt the anger that
emanated from him like the stillness before a thunderstorm. There
was strain in his face and tense restraint in his movements, as if
he were keeping that anger tightly leashed, and the slightest
change could start the storm raging. For the first time in her
life, she was afraid of Vernon, afraid of what he and his boys
might have done to Conor.

He waited to speak until she stopped several
feet away from him. "Where's Branigan?" he asked tightly. "He came
to see me this morning, but he left before we could finish our
little talk."

A blessed feeling of relief washed over her.
Vernon didn't know where Conor was, and that meant that her husband
was safe.

But her relief vanished when Vernon pulled
back his jacket to show her the gun stuck in his belt. He began
walking toward her. "I'm here to finish it."

She refused to show fear by stepping back,
and he halted a foot in front of her. She stared at the pistol for
a moment, then looked up and met his eyes. "Conor isn't here. I
don't know where he is."

"Then we'll wait for him." Before she could
move, he grabbed her arm in a viselike grip. It would have been
pointless to struggle, so Olivia did not, and Vernon hauled her up
the steps and into the house. The Harlan boys followed them into
the kitchen.

"Earl, go keep a watch on the front window,
and tell me if Branigan's coming," Vernon instructed. "Joshua, you
go out and watch the back."

Earl left the room, and Joshua went out onto
the back porch, closing the door behind him. Vernon pushed Olivia
into a chair.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

He pulled out a chair beside her and sat
down. "I'm going to get his signature on a deed and bill of sale
for this land."

"What makes you think he'll sell it to
you?"

"He'll sell." Vernon leaned back in his
chair, and pulled his pistol out of his belt, and took aim at the
door.

That gesture left no doubt of his intentions.
Olivia clasped her shaking hands together, and cast a longing
glance at the pantry, wondering if she could get to the rifle. She
stirred in her chair. "Since we may be waiting for Conor awhile,"
she said, "I think I'll make some tea."

She started to rise, but Vernon grabbed her
and yanked her back into her seat. "We don't need any tea, Liv. You
just sit tight."

The minutes went by, and each one seemed like
an eternity to Olivia.

She prayed that Oren would be able to do
something, but it was four miles to the Johnson farm, and she knew
it would be at least an hour before the girls could get there. If
Conor arrived in the meantime, Vernon might very well shoot him. He
was tight as a bowstring, and anything could make him snap.

She looked at him. "Vernon," she said
quietly, "if it's the land you want, we'll sell it to you. There's
no need for any of this."

He turned on her. "No need?" he shouted, his
anger flaring. "That son of a bitch came barging his way into my
home this morning as if he was king of the hill, threatening me and
my wife's father, telling us how he was going to destroy us and get
his Irish friends in New York to help him do it. And Hiram fell for
it!" Vernon slammed his fist down on the table. "Nobody threatens
me! Nobody! Especially not some Irish boxer who hasn't got two
nickels to rub together."

He looked at her, contempt
and rage twisting his features. "And you married him! I wasn't
good enough for you, but he was? You wouldn't marry me, but you
married
him
."

He shoved back his chair. Rising to his feet,
he leaned over her, the gun between them, so much loathing in his
face that she shrank back in her chair. "You've let him touch you.
You've let him put his filthy Irish hands on you. God, you disgust
me."

She stared up at Vernon and realized the
truth. "This isn't about the land anymore, is it?" she whispered.
"This is about my marriage."

Before he could answer, Earl came in from the
parlor. "Branigan's coming up the lane, boss."

Vernon straightened, regaining control of
himself with an effort. He grabbed her arm and yanked her out of
the chair. "Come on, Mrs. Branigan," he said, pulling her with him
out the back door. "Let's go greet your husband."

When Conor rode into the yard, he immediately
saw the horses and the four people waiting for him on the back
porch. He saw the gun in Vernon's hand and the fear in Olivia's
face. He dismounted from Oren's horse and walked slowly toward the
porch, but he stopped several feet from the steps, trying to figure
out what to do.

Vernon held Olivia close to his side, but the
gun was not pointed at her. It was pointed at Conor. "Afternoon,
Branigan. We've been waiting for you."

Conor looked at Olivia. "Where are the
girls?"

"They're at the Johnsons'."

He nodded and returned his gaze to Vernon.
"What's the offer now, Vernon?" he asked, striving to sound casual.
"Seven dollars an acre?"

"It's back down to one."

Conor wondered if Vernon would use Olivia as
a bargaining chip. He needed to find out, and he slowly shook his
head. "No deal."

"I thought you might say that." Vernon
glanced at the two men who stood beside him. "Joshua, Earl, I think
Mr. Branigan here needs to be persuaded."

The two men came down the porch steps,
walking toward him, and Conor had his answer.

"Conor, let them have the land!" Olivia
called to him. "It's not worth this."

He heard the plea in her voice, but he could
not concede. This wasn't just about land; it was about standing up
to bullies and fighting for what you believed in. Well, he had
something to believe in now, and unless Vernon threatened Olivia,
he wasn't going to give it up without a fight.

Conor backed away, to give himself more
fighting room, and assessed the abilities of the two men who came
toward him. Joshua he could take down with no problem. But he
remembered how it had felt when Earl's fist had smashed his face
that night nearly three months ago, and he knew that man might be a
bit tougher.

He clenched his fists and waited for one of
them to make the first move, suspecting it would be Joshua, who had
a personal grudge and very little patience. When the first punch
came at him, he was proven right.

He ducked to avoid Joshua's fist, and at the
same time, he jammed his elbow backward into Earl's belly. Joshua's
fist sailed over his head, Earl doubled over with a grunt of pain,
and Conor straightened, bringing his right fist up beneath Joshua's
chin and following with his left hook to smash the man's cheek.
Joshua fell back and hit the dirt.

But Conor had no time to relish his victory.
He turned, hoping he was quick enough. But he wasn't. Earl's punch
caught him just below his cheekbone. Conor staggered back from the
force of the blow, but he stayed on his feet and managed to lean
left as Earl followed through with a second punch that didn't even
touch him.

Conor slammed his right fist into Earl's ribs
and followed with a clean uppercut to the jaw that stunned the
other man long enough for one more right hook. Bone hit bone in a
shattered thwack that sent Earl to the ground. Conor whirled back
around, but Joshua still lay where he'd fallen, groaning, but
making no attempt to rise and continue the fight.

Conor stepped over them and walked to the
porch, looking up at the man who stood on the top step. "They
didn't persuade me, Vernon," he said, his breath coming hard and
fast. "Now, it's just you and me. For once in your miserable life,
you'll have to fight your own battle."

Vernon tightened his grip on Olivia, pulling
her close to his side, and aimed the pistol directly at Conor's
heart. "I'm going to make this real simple for you, boy. Give me
the land or I'll kill you."

"No!" Olivia's voice rose on a sob. "Let him
have the land," she cried. "It's not worth your life. It's not
worth it. Please, Conor."

Conor glanced from Vernon to her and back
again, trying to find some other option. Even if he signed over the
land, Vernon would probably kill him. "All right, Tyler, you win,"
he said, lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender.

Suddenly, he moved, so fast that Olivia
didn't quite know how he managed it. The gun fired just as Conor
knocked it out of Vernon's hand, but the bullet sailed harmlessly
through the air, and the gun hit the porch with a thud. Conor
grabbed the other man by his lapels and hauled him down the steps.
Then he let the other man go and gave him a shove. "All right,
boyo," he said through clenched teeth, "let's see how brave you are
now."

Olivia ran to the other end of the porch and
grabbed the gun. She leaned over the porch rail. She cocked the
weapon and pointed it at Vernon. "I've got the gun, Conor."

"Well, don't shoot him yet," he told her.
"I'll be having a bit o' sport with him first."

Fear wiped away all the arrogance in Vernon's
face. He glanced around as if seeking help, but the only two men
who could help him lay sprawled in the dirt, still stunned and
dazed, and obviously unwilling to come to his aid.

Conor gave him another push. "What's wrong,
Vernon?" he taunted. "Nobody to do your dirty work for you?"

He lifted his fist as if to take a swing, and
Vernon cried out, jumping back and shielding his face with his
arms. Conor lowered his fist, laughing. "You cowardly bastard," he
muttered. "You're not worth hurting my hand."

Vernon lowered his arms, and Conor moved as
if to turn away. But suddenly, he changed his mind and swung,
momentum adding to the force of the blow that slammed into Vernon's
nose and laid him out flat on his back in the dirt.

"I lied," Conor said, wiping blood from his
hand.

A carriage pulled into the yard and came to a
halt behind the two men, but Olivia spared only one glance at
Alicia Tyler and the distinguished-looking gentleman beside her
before returning her attention to Conor and Vernon.

Her husband moved to stand over the other man
and placed his boot on his throat. "I'm Conor Branigan," he said
through clenched teeth. "Now, that name might not mean much to you,
so I'd better explain just how things are around here."

He stepped back. Vernon struggled to breathe,
sucking air into his lungs in desperate gasps.

Conor gestured to the surrounding countryside
and went on, "I own this land and everything on it. This is my farm
and my home. You understand me, boyo?"

Vernon nodded and tried to rise.