Pemberley Ranch (11 page)

“Four? You said you had five!” He raised the gun again.

“Frank, I’ve got to have some cash on hand. You know, for expenses.”

“You said you had some cash in your safe. Five thousand, Whitehead.”

Whitehead sighed. “All right, all right, five thousand. Mind if I sit down?”

Churchill agreed and both took a seat at the small table, across from each other.

“You know,” Whitehead said conversationally, “it’s been a long time. Seven years. How come you’re just looking me up now?”

“I couldn’t leave home until recently, ’cause my folks needed me. Now that they passed on, I began to look for you.”

“And your sister?”

“She ran off with a traveling salesman four years back. Last I heard, she was in Detroit.”

“Hmm.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You’re a smart man, Frank. It’s not like I was hiding, but still, you found me. That shows a sharp mind. I can use a sharp mind. What did you plan to do with Jimmy’s share?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t think that far.”

Whitehead leaned across the table, lowering his voice. “You know, I got some people working for me that… well, they ain’t got one brain between them. I’ve got to do all the thinking and planning, and it’s wearing on me. This guy Denny I have riding for me? I think he’s loco, and I have to get rid of him. I was just thinking the other day how things would be if Jimmy was here. We’d be a lot further along, I’ll tell you that. You think of settling down?”

Churchill blinked. “What—here?”

“Sure. Jimmy was always supposed to be my partner. You’re smart—you could take his place. I need somebody I can count on. How ’bout it?”

“You asking me to throw in with you?”

“It would be worth a lot more than half of twenty-five in a couple of years. I’ve got plans.”

“What kind of plans?”

Whitehead grinned. “Oh, no. You want to know, you got to come in. But think about it. Would I be hanging around this pissant place if I wasn’t going to be rich?”

Churchill licked his lips. “I don’t know. Can I trust you?”

Whitehead laughed. “Hell, can I trust
you
? You’re the one with the gun!”

Churchill placed the pistol on the table, just under his right hand. “I got to think about this. You’re going to just give me half of everything you’ve got going?”

“Frank, Frank, I ain’t stupid. What I’ve built up already is worth more than the original stake. At twelve and a half, your part would be something like… one third. Junior partner, but still my partner.

“But the sky’s the limit. You can have any woman you want in this saloon. People jump when you talk. And in a couple of years, we’ll have this whole county. That’s better than sleeping in a bedroll outside with the snakes and Indians, right?” Whitehead’s eyes gleamed.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Look, why don’t you sleep on it, all right? Come see me in the morning, and we’ll get the papers drawn up. Or if you’d rather pass, we’ll go down to the bank for your money.”

“Yeah, and I just let you walk out of here—to bring back
your men for me. That ain’t going to happen.” Churchill put his hand on the gun.

Whitehead wore a hurt expression. “Aww, Frank. I wouldn’t do that. Tell you what—you come with me. Stay in my house. No one’s going to touch you—you’ve got my word on it.” He stood up, extending his right hand.

Without thinking, Churchill automatically lifted his right hand off the pistol and took Whitehead’s hand. Whitehead’s eyes never left his as they shook. Suddenly, Whitehead’s grip tightened and his left hand came up, holding Churchill’s gun. Before Churchill could scream, Whitehead fired into his chest. The man fell backwards onto the floor, and Whitehead walked around the table, gun extended. Churchill tried to talk, the pain just starting to register, but the last sound he would hear was Whitehead’s low snarl.

“You should’ve paid closer attention, Frank. Nobody ever expects a left-handed man.”

Whitehead shot him again as Pyke forced the locked door, gun in hand. “Boss! What happened?”

George whirled on him, anger clearly written on his face. “I thought you searched him!”

“I did, boss, I did! He must’ve sneaked it in somehow.”

Whitehead jammed the still smoking barrel in Pyke’s throat. “If I thought for one moment you tried to cross me—”

Sally Younge ran in. “George, don’t! It’s not his fault!” Whitehead turned. “That man had a package delivered a few minutes before you got here.”

Whitehead released Pyke. “I’m sorry, boss, I’m sorry—”

Whitehead cut his henchman off. “Shut up. We got to clean this up.”

Younge patted Whitehead on the arm. “I’ll go settle the
patrons. Tell ’em some drunken cowboy was plinking holes in the ceiling. They’ll believe it—it’s happened before.” She dashed out, closing the door behind her.

Whitehead looked down at Churchill’s body. “Wait until later,” he told Pyke, “then wrap him up in the carpet and get him out of town. Get rid of the body. Bury him somewhere on the B&R. Don’t throw him in the river. I don’t want him found. You hear me, Pyke? No one finds him. Don’t mess
this
up.”

Pyke assured him it would be done as instructed. Whitehead took one last look at the body.

“Yeah, Frank, you were Jimmy’s brother, all right. Just as stupid.” He tossed the pistol onto the body and walked out of the room.

Beth couldn’t escape Caroline. For a woman who didn’t enjoy her company, she always seemed to be around. She invited herself to the Musical Society and immediately took over the meeting. Beth’s resentment of the woman was such that she couldn’t give any credence to her perfectly fine performance of Mozart.

When Caroline wasn’t bragging about the music teachers she once had, she was trying to ingratiate herself with Will Darcy. Darcy, as was his custom, had accompanied his sister and cousin to the meeting, and Caroline took advantage of it, talking to him at every opportunity.

“Look at that,” Charlotte whispered to Beth. “Doesn’t the woman have any pride at all? She’s almost shoving her bosom into Mr. Darcy’s face. For all the good it’s doing her—Mr. Darcy’s clearly uncomfortable.”

“Mr. Darcy’s always uncomfortable,” Beth returned spitefully. She couldn’t understand her resentment. She should have laughed at Caroline’s exhibition and Darcy’s embarrassment, but she could not. Instead, she was angry. Angry at Caroline for the way she was acting, and angry at Darcy for not doing… something. Beth wasn’t sure exactly what it was Darcy was supposed to do, but he should have been doing it. Her strange thoughts only added to her confusion and aggravation.

“Poor Caroline!”

Beth turned to her friend. “Poor Caroline? Why should you feel sorry for her? She’s a selfish witch who thinks she’s better than us.”

Charlotte smiled slightly. “You sound a little jealous.”

Beth gaped. “Jealous?”

Charlotte put her hand on her arm. “Shush! They’ll hear you.”

In a much lower voice, Beth said, “I’m certainly not jealous of Caroline Bingley.”

Charlotte still wore that slight smile. “Well, she’s certainly jealous of you.”

“Whatever for?”

Charlotte just shook her head and looked pointedly at Will Darcy. It took a moment for Beth to catch on. It was then she did laugh.

“Will Darcy? You think she’s jealous over Will Darcy? Then she has no eyes in her head! He and I agree on one thing—we can’t stand one another.”

Her friend gave her a look of pity. “Oh, Beth, Caroline sees better than you think. Better than you, apparently.”

“I assure you, I don’t like Mr. Darcy.”

“But Mr. Darcy likes you, I think.”

“Impossible. That man hates everyone, me in particular.
Why, he only stares at me to find fault. No, Charlotte, you’re very wrong about Mr. Darcy.”

Charlotte tried to respond, but she stopped when Anne Burroughs approached.

The lady smiled nervously. “You’re both going to get an invitation to Mother’s Fourth of July party at the ranch, but I wanted to personally encourage you to come. You… you will, won’t you?” Anne only relaxed when both Beth and Charlotte assured her of their attendance. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Beth, may I ask you something?” She paused as her color rose. Beth waited patiently for her friend to speak and gave the girl her most encouraging smile.

“Will you come and stay for a few days before the party?” Anne asked in a rush.

Beth clearly was taken aback, and Anne’s face crumpled, fearing a rejection. Beth took her hands and said, “I would be delighted, but I have to help Jane—”

Anne cut her off. “I’ve already asked Jane, and she said she could spare you for a few days. Please come. I’ve never had anyone over to the house before, except for my cousins. I mean, I love my cousins, but it’s not the same.”

Beth glanced at Jane, who was smiling at her from across the room. Beth shrugged her shoulders and returned her attention to Anne.

“Very well, I’ll ask my father when I visit home tomorrow. If he says yes—”

Anne laughed in girlish joy, a sound Beth had never before heard from the shy and serious heiress. “Oh, he will, he will! Thank you, Beth. Oh, Will, Beth is coming to the ranch to visit with me! Isn’t it fine?”

Beth whirled around to find Will Darcy standing behind her. She felt herself flush—from embarrassment, she reasoned.

“I think that’s a grand idea, Cousin,” he said gravely, his blue eyes brighter than before. “Thank you for your kindness, Miss Bennet.”

“Wait,” cried Caroline. “Who’s going to help me with Jane?”

By then, Mrs. Bingley had arrived and had taken her sister-in-law in hand, assuring her that they would get along splendidly. Beth fell into a conversation with Anne, Charlotte, and Gaby about the party, but she could feel Will Darcy’s eyes upon her as he stood enigmatically against the wall.

“Hush, boy, let’s be quiet now,” Darcy whispered in Caesar’s ear as they crept along the riverbank. The horse responded, as his rider knew he would, and made almost no sound as he walked upriver, close by the bushes.

They reached the familiar tree, and within moments, Caesar was grazing while his master stole closer to the riverbank. He found the spot and settled down in anticipation of his quarry. He didn’t have long to wait. Only minutes passed before a lovely female figure made her way down the opposite bank and began undressing.

Darcy had tried and tried to resist the siren song of watching Beth Bennet bathe, and it had turned into a losing battle. His mouth was dry as he beheld paradise across the Long Branch. Gloriously nude, the girl slipped under the water, moving slowly in the cool shade.

Darcy’s shirt, wet with sweat, clung to his body. His jeans felt too tight, for reasons unrelated to the blistering June heat.
The water, the woman, was just too inviting. He could not wait any longer.

As quietly as he could, he slipped off his boots. Setting them by his hat, he took off his shirt. His pants were next and moments later, naked as Adam, Darcy waited behind the bushes until Beth turned her attention to the far riverbank. He slipped into the water unnoticed by the girl but then froze. What to do now? He couldn’t just swim over there without warning, could he? That would frighten Beth, and frightening her was the last thing Darcy wished to do.

“Miss Beth,” he called out softly.

The girl cried out and ducked as low in the water as she could and still breathe. Quickly, she turned around. “Mr. Darcy?”

“Miss Beth, don’t be afraid, it’s just me.”

“What are you doing here!? Go away!”

“Shush, quiet. I don’t want to raise any ruckus.”

“But I’m not decent!”

Darcy smiled. “Well, neither am I. I figure that makes us even.”

Darcy swore she hid a smile at that. “How did you know about this place? Have you been spying on me?”

Darcy had the grace to look embarrassed. “No, really. The first time—the only other time—was an accident. Really.”

Rather than looking offended, the girl just treaded water, her hair fanning out behind her. “But you came back.”

“I couldn’t help myself.”

She frowned. “You wanted to see an undressed girl.”

“No! I wanted to see an undressed
you
. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re just saying that.”