Scotsman Wore Spurs (45 page)

Gabrielle could almost see Ben's mind click, adding and discarding possibilities. But it was Drew who presented the next possible conclusion.

“And,” Drew said, “Thorpe suddenly realized that all of you who had been involved with him in the robbery were possible dangers.”

“But how did he find us?” Kirby asked.

“You never left Texas,” Ben replied. “Detectives could have tracked you down easily enough. Gabrielle's father may have been an accident. Thorpe might have seen him on stage.” He shrugged. “Or maybe James Parker wrote to you, Kirby, after seeing your sketch in the San Antonio paper. The article came out several days before he was killed, didn't it? Might your father have done that, Gabrielle?” Ben queried, turning to her.

Gabrielle was stunned at the thought. Running through her father's last words in her mind once more, she thought, yes, perhaps that
was
what her father had tried to tell her. Perhaps he hadn't been
accusing
Kirby but rather he'd wanted her to
warn
him.

“I—I don't know,” she stammered honestly. “The only letter he left was addressed to me, but he did say Kirby's name and the words
danger
and
be careful
. I suppose he could have been trying to tell me to warn Kirby about Thorpe.”

Ben turned back to Kirby. “It's also possible that if Thorpe had detectives on you Kingsleys, they might well have intercepted mail. A bribe here and there can work wonders.”

Still stunned by the possibility that she could have so misinterpreted her father's dying words, Gabrielle looked up to see Drew watching her. His gaze held a world of understanding. He knew, his eyes told her, how guilty she'd felt for her role in convincing her father to return to Texas.
Don't let this make you feel even more guilty
, he seemed to be saying to her. Then, amid the comfort and tenderness she saw in his amber gaze, another message came through:
We'll find your father's killer. His death won't go unavenged
.

A shiver raced up her spine. She appreciated his commitment and his desire to help her. But if the price of vengeance—or justice—was his life, she wasn't willing to pay it.

“We can't prove any of this, of course,” Ben was saying.

“But we know it's gotta be true,” Damien put in. He was sitting next to his father and had been listening silently. All his former bluster was gone, Gabrielle noted. He'd even been cordial to Drew.

“We have to be able to prove it,” Kirby said to his nephew.

Apprehension snaked down Gabrielle's back at Kirby's calm comment. She'd guessed that was the intent, but somehow it seemed more dangerous put into words. She didn't want to see any of these men in peril.

“When?” she asked quietly.

All the men turned toward her.

It was Drew who finally answered. “The sooner the better. Even if Killian took his time coming back, he'll have heard the news you're alive. I'll bet anything he's hanging around San Antonio, waiting for news of Kirby's return.”

Kirby drew on the cigar he was smoking. “If we get Killian alive, we can get Thorpe. And Killian wants me.”

“I hope you're not saying what I think you're saying,” Jon said.

“I'm going to San Antonio tomorrow to transact some business. I'll stay a few days. There's no other way,” Kirby said. “Either I make myself a target, or none of us will be safe.”

“I'll be there,” Ben said. “And Drew. Neither Thorpe nor Killian knows us.”

“I want to go with you,” Damien said.

“I need you to stay with your father,” Kirby said. “He's probably a target himself. And,” he added, “I need someone I can trust to take care of the ranch.” Kirby gave his nephew a smile of approval.

Damien sat up straighter, and Gabrielle thought that he had grown up a great deal on the drive.

Gabrielle turned her attention toward Kirby, mentioned the possibility that had been worrying her. “It's possible that the law will find out about the bank robbery, isn't it?”

Kirby's lips thinned. “That damned secret has caused too much heartache already. If it comes out, well, I'm ready. God knows, I've lived with it all my life. No need to involve Jon, though. He was only holding the horses; he didn't know what was happening.”

“Well, maybe it won't be necessary,” Ben said. His gaze rested on Kirby for a moment, as if considering the ethics of a former marshal and present lawyer ignoring a crime, even if it was twenty-five years ago.

Kirby shrugged. “I don't care anymore. I would just as soon it all came out.”

Damien jumped to his feet. “Dammit, you shouldn't have to pay
forever
.”

“A man died,” Kirby said. “That fact's haunted me all my life. I'll go to San Antonio tomorrow, stay in town until Killian shows.”

Gabrielle hated the helpless feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knew Kirby was doing this as much for her as for himself. The others would assist him for the very same reasons. And all of them would be in peril. But Ben and Kirby and Drew had made up their minds. And all she could do was pray.

The three of them—Ben, Kirby, and Drew—reached San Antonio the next day. They took separate rooms in the town's most popular hotel, then separated. Kirby stayed in his room, and Drew and Ben sought out saloons—and the information that always circulated there.

Killian was already in town, had been for several days.

Drew and Ben conferred. Neither was known to Killian, and thus had some freedom of movement that Kirby didn't. Ben decided to track Killian down and follow him. Drew would sit in the lobby of the hotel, watching for the killer.

The afternoon passed slowly for Drew. He hadn't realized how difficult it was to try to look relaxed while scrutinizing every visitor, searching for a tall lean man with a silver hat band. Then Ben appeared, and Drew followed him up to Kirby's room.

“He's been asking about Kirby, saying he's looking for a job,” Ben said when they were all inside the rancher's room. He turned all his attention to Kirby. “He knows you're here. He'll probably wait until he thinks you're asleep. We'll arrange a surprise for him.”

The three of them placed a bedroll under the blankets on Kirby's bed, making it appear as if someone were sleeping there. Then Ben turned to Drew. “Go downstairs and wait for him to come back in after he's gone to supper.”

Drew raised an eyebrow in question.

“When he enters the lobby door, you head for the stairs, act drunk and bump against Kirby's door on the way to your room. Then go on to the room.”

Drew looked at him suspiciously, wondering whether Ben was merely trying to get him out of the way.

“We need to know he's on the way,” Ben pointed out. “There's no other way.”

Drew had to surrender. What Ben had said made sense. But he planned to be close by and ready in the event that anything went wrong. He headed downstairs to the lobby, found a chair, and pulled his hat down over his eyes, listening for footfalls.

Kirby sat with Ben on the floor of the room, guns in their hands.

It was the waiting, Kirby thought. It was the waiting that tore at a man's gut, that made him think, made him remember what had brought him to this point. And Kirby knew he didn't deserve the help he was getting.

The hours went by slowly in total silence. Then came a bump at the door, followed a minute later by something rasping in the lock. Ben was standing now, as was Kirby. The door opened, light filtered in from a lamp in the hallway, and feathers from the bedding flew as the sound of a gunshot filled the room.

Ben slammed the door, trapping the killer inside.

“Don't move,” he said. “There's two guns pointed right at your head.”

But Killian did move, swiftly swinging his gun to point unerringly at Kirby. Before he could move, Kirby heard another loud blast—and saw Killian crumple to the floor.

Ben swore, bending down over the man. “Who sent you?” he asked.

Killian moaned.

“Dammit, who?”

But the moan ended in a sigh, and the body went limp.

They wouldn't learn anything from Killian.

Chapter Twenty-four

“I'm going to go to the law and tell them exactly what happened twenty-five years ago,” Kirby said. “I won't have any other lives on my conscience.”

Drew had returned to the ranch with Kirby and Ben after Ben pacified the San Antonio law. Since Ben was a former marshal and was able to prove that Killian was in a room that wasn't his own the local sheriff was willing to accept that the killing was justified. Drew had not been involved, his name not even mentioned.

“It'll be your word against Thorpe's about who killed that clerk, Kirby,” Ben said. “You won't be able to prove a thing. And if you ruin Thorpe's chances for the governorship, he'll come after you for sure, and probably Gabrielle and Jon as well.”

Kirby swore.

“Drew has another idea to bring Thorpe out into the open,” Ben told him. “He may be wary now, because Killian's dead. But if we dangle a large enough prize in front of his eyes, he might just bite, particularly if he thinks you might talk and ruin his hopes for the governorship. He can't know that you already realize who he is, but he has to know you might well figure it out.”

Leaning casually against the wing chair in which Gabrielle was sitting, Drew listened, satisfied to let Ben explain his plan to Kirby.

“If,” Ben finished, “Thorpe is as voracious as we think he is, he'll jump at the opportunity to sell some land to a wealthy Scotsman. The English are buying land all over the West right now, investing in huge cattle spreads, so he wouldn't suspect anything. And, given the right encouragement, he might well try to keep the money
and
the land if he thinks he can get away with it. That's the key. We have to make the opportunity so inviting he can't resist.”

Kirby scowled. “And if he doesn't take the bait?”

“Drew pulls out, says he changed his mind, and we try something else.”

Silence descended on the room.

“Drew would be more believable as a rich real-estate speculator if he had a wife,” Gabrielle pointed out.

Drew's gaze flashed downward to her, an instant protest springing to his lips. “No,” he said, hearing the edge of panic in his own voice. “He may know what you look like.”

“Not when I get through with myself,” she said, turning in her chair to look up at him. “A blond wig will do wonders. Any good dressmaker will have them available.”

Drew's hands were suddenly cold, and he became even more aware of it when Gabrielle reached up and took one of his hands in her warm one.

“I can't live the rest of my life worrying about someone behind every tree,” she said quietly. “It's my battle as much as Kirby's.”

Drew looked to Ben for support. “Ben, please, tell her that this is a dreadful idea.”

Ben shook his head. “Can't. She's right. A husband and wife would be better.”

Drew's hand clenched around Gabrielle's. “No,” he said again.

Gabrielle twisted around further so that she could look at him directly. “Drew, you're going to risk your life. I have the right to do the same. And I will. For my father, if for no other reason.”

Drew knew her too well. If he didn't let her go with him, she would find some way of doing it on her own, just as she had braved the cattle drive alone. At least with him and Ben, she would have some protection.

“You two won't be alone,” Ben pointed out. “I have a few friends who will help. Men I can trust.”

The assurance didn't calm the fear in Drew's heart. But he knew of no argument that would change Gabrielle's mind, and if he didn't take her with him, she might well do something on her own. He couldn't risk that. So he glared at Ben. “If anything happens to her …”

Ben looked at him, then around the room. “I think Philip Thorpe has finally met his match.”

The Austin hotel room was one of the finest Gabrielle had ever occupied. She and her parents had never had much money and usually had stayed in clean but economical boardinghouses.

Ben had insisted on the Grand because it offered suites, the kind a wealthy Scot might require. A suite, with adjoining rooms, also allowed for better protection. Ben engaged one suite for Andrew Cameron, Lord Kinloch, and his wife, Catherine. He engaged a second adjoining suite for a rich Colorado mine owner named Dan Forsyth.

Gabrielle looked around the suite with awe and not a little apprehension. As an earl, she realized that Drew must be used to lavish lodgings like this. But the luxury itself made her feel out of place.

Two sharp-eyed strangers joined Ben, or Dan Forsyth, next door. One of them, a man named Kane O'Brien, deftly unlocked the door separating the suites without a key. Gabrielle soon discovered he'd once been an outlaw named Diablo—the man she'd heard mentioned several times before. She wasn't entirely sure how he'd come to be here, but it was plain that Ben trusted him implicitly, and he certainly looked deadly enough. Their other accomplice, a man named Jud Merrill, was a former law officer who, she gathered, owed Ben a favor. She wondered who had been dispatched to the Circle K to guard Kirby and Jon. Ben's resources seemed limitless, his commitment to this venture complete.

She and Drew went shopping. She purchased two very fine dresses, Drew two expensive suits. They had pooled their funds to do so, and Kirby, who'd made a great deal on the cattle drive, was providing the cash to “buy” the land.

The next step was locating a blond wig, and when she mentioned her requirements in the men's hearing, Kane O'Brien appeared with one later that day. She didn't ask questions, but she admitted to herself that the man had a good eye. The wig fit over her short hair perfectly and, with a hat, she would look quite elegant.