“I wish there were something I could do to offer you comfort,” Charity said as she stirred cream into her tea.
Dianne was surprised by her friend’s words. “I don’t want comfort; I want to see that woman behind bars. If she’s committed the murders of several men, she deserves to hang.”
“Your anger is understandable, but you can hardly take up your brother’s cause by chasing after Portia Langford. You have three little boys who need you. You have a husband who needs you as well. Cole would never approve of your getting involved in something this dangerous.”
Dianne frowned. “Someone has to do something. Portia will get away with this otherwise. I know she’s the one who planned the deaths of Trenton and Sam, whether she actually pulled the trigger or not.” Dianne got to her feet, nearly knocking over the tea tray. “What if it were your brother? What would you do?”
Charity put her spoon down. “I suppose I would feel just as passionate about it as you do. However, I would hope to have a friend—a very good friend—who would work to talk me out of doing anything foolish.”
Dianne heard the concern in Charity’s words and sunk back into the chair. “I feel so hopeless. If I don’t do something, Sam will have died in vain.” She whispered the words on the chance they might be overheard. The small house was close to the main street of Madison, and there was no telling who might wander by. She had told the Hammonds the truth about Trenton. It had been necessary, since Ben was the one to perform the ceremony at the mock funeral. Charity could be trusted, Dianne knew, but she also knew that Charity would offer good counsel and wisdom. Which was why Dianne had come to her.
“What have you heard of Portia? I’ve not seen her since the funeral over a month ago.”
Charity shrugged. “She hardly seems to be in mourning, if that’s what you’re asking. She parades around this town like she owns it. She hasn’t been in church since her father’s passing, but of course you know that.”
Dianne nodded. She’d not missed a single service since Ben had declared the church open for public worship. Most of the community had joined the little log church—some out of true desire to fellowship with other Christians, some out of boredom. Then there were those whom Dianne believed only came in order to keep track of other folks. Like Portia and the Lawrences.
“Let’s not worry about Portia and what she’s doing. I’d rather not spend my time in gossip, and I know you feel the same.”
Picking up her tea, Dianne sighed. “I just don’t know what I should do.”
“Of course you do,” Charity said with a gentle smile. “You need to pray. God is the one who has the right to seek revenge. He will see things made right, even if you never figure a way to bring it about. Maybe even in spite of your trying to bring it about.”
“I feel helpless. I mean—” she looked to the window and then back again to Charity—“if you’d have seen him.”
“I’m sure it was absolutely horrible.”
“I thought he was … well … you know.”
“But he wasn’t. That’s what you have to remember. God was merciful to you and your family. Poor Sam was all alone in the world—perhaps the quickness of his death was mercy as well.”
“But murder isn’t a mercy,” Dianne protested.
“No, I’m not suggesting that it is,” Charity said before taking a long sip of her tea. She put down the cup and looked thoughtful for a moment.
“I liked Sam Brady a great deal, but the man was lonely and longed for the day he would leave this world. He loved his wife very much, and losing her was hard on him. Then this trouble with Portia surely must have weighed on his mind.”
“I can’t imagine how I would feel if Luke or one of the others grew up to be a murderer,” Dianne said, shaking her head. “It would break my heart.”
“And no doubt it broke Sam’s heart as well. I wish I could say that everything will work out, but sometimes evil is allowed to flourish. I do know that eventually every evil deed will be answered for. God will not be mocked.”
“But sometimes that reckoning doesn’t come in our lifetime, is that it?”
“All in God’s time, child.”
Dianne drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I feel so angry inside. I don’t know how to let this rest in His timing.”
“You must pray and take every thought captive. It’s never easy to stand against a strong wind and not fall … or at least exhaust yourself in the battle. When those thoughts come to you—thoughts of revenge and anger—you must take them captive. Refuse to let them have power over you.”
“That won’t be easy.”
Charity lifted the pot to pour herself another cup of tea. “No, it’s never easy. But doing the right thing is often difficult.”
Dianne knew it to be true. She dropped her chin and stared at the letter she’d let fall to the table. R. E. Langford asked her to help pick up where Trenton had left off. Dianne had no idea how she could do that without arousing Portia’s suspicions. Worse yet, she had no idea how to do it without arousing Cole’s concerns or his disapproval.
Leaving Charity’s house nearly an hour later, Dianne was determined to get her shopping done and find Levi and Cole. They’d come to town to have some work completed by Malachi and would surely be done with it by now.
Dianne couldn’t help but ponder Charity’s words. They were nearly the same suggestions Faith had given her. She hadn’t planned on telling Faith the truth about Trenton, but it had just spilled out in their conversation. Faith was relieved to know that Dianne’s brother was safe and alive, but she chided Dianne to refrain from mounting a campaign to catch Portia Langford as the responsible party.
“No doubt she had to have help to manage something like That,” Faith had told her. “You’d better be careful about who you cross paths with. Those Lawrence boys are meaner than a hound with a sore tooth. Their papa is worse still, and he seems pretty cozy with Portia.”
Dianne had never met the Lawrence boys, nor did she have any desire to meet them. It was bad enough that Cole was confronted on nearly a weekly basis by Chester Lawrence. He always wanted to accuse the Diamond V of one offense or another. Lately it was some inordinate protest about the number of twin calves born to Diamond V cows.
“Mrs. Selby, I see you’re looking well,” Cynthia Lawrence remarked snidely.
Dianne looked up, amazed to find the woman standing directly in her way. How ironic that she had just been thinking about the Lawrences when she nearly ran into one.
“Hello, Mrs. Lawrence.” Dianne fought to keep her voice even.
“I saw your husband over at the smithy’s. No doubt he’s spending money earned off of Walking Horseshoe cattle.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Cynthia Lawrence sneered. “You’ll get no pardon from me. You’re robbing us blind.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dianne said, trying hard not to lose her temper. From the rumors she’d heard, she had some thought as to what Mrs. Lawrence was getting at, but she wanted to hear the woman declare it for herself.
“Your ranch hands are stealing our calves after the mama cows are killed or run off. We were lucky to see a new calf in one out of five cows.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but I hardly see how that condemns my men of stealing.”
“Your cows produced an unusually high number of twins this year—at least that’s what I’ve heard your husband say.”
Dianne could see where the conversation was headed. “Yes. We had a large number of twins, but in each case the calves and mama cows were clearly matched up. There were no strays out there.”
“I find that impossible to believe.”
Dianne shrugged. “I hardly find that to be my responsibility. I cannot force you to believe the truth.”
Just then two young women joined Cynthia. Dianne knew the girls only from afar. They were Mara and Elsa Lawrence, the only daughters of Cynthia and Chester. Elsa was the spitting image of her mother
, temper and all, while Mara was much less objectionable.
“Why are you talking to her?” Elsa asked disapprovingly.
Cynthia waggled her finger. “Don’t take that tone with me, missy. I’ve enough to deal with right here. I do not need my own flesh and blood questioning me.”
Elsa put her hands on her hips. “You’re stealing our cattle,” she accused Dianne, “and we intend to get the law to do something about you.”
Dianne noted the fiery glint in the young girl’s eyes. She was no more than fourteen, but already she carried a chip on her shoulder. No doubt it had been placed there by her father and mother, who seemed determined to bad-mouth the Selbys at every point.
“As I told your mother, we are not stealing your cattle. We have no need to do so; we’re already very prosperous. Why would a few head of scrawny English beef interest us when we have hearty Texas and Scottish stock?”
“Our herd is just as strong and solid as yours!” Elsa protested.
“The girl is right,” Cynthia replied angrily. “There’s nothing but good reliable stock in our herd.”
“Which is why you have so many calves and mama cows dying in the winter,” Dianne said, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice. “Your cattle are apparently unable to adapt. Perhaps you should head south to a warmer climate.”
“We’re here to stay—you might as well know that,” Cynthia said, taking a step toward Dianne. “We intend to see you put off of your land before Christmas. We have the law on our side.”
Dianne couldn’t imagine what the woman was talking about. How could they possibly bring this into any kind of legal forum? The Selbys had done nothing illegal. It certainly wasn’t against the law to have bred better cattle.
Mara stepped in at this point. “Mama, it’s not good for you to get all worked up.” She looked to Dianne apologetically. “Remember what the doctor said.”
Dianne had no idea what kind of ailment Mrs. Lawrence might be suffering, and frankly she couldn’t be bothered at that moment, for much to her dismay, Portia Langford was headed straight for them.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to save this conversation for another day,” Dianne said, gathering her skirts. “I’m already late to rejoin my husband.”
“We’ll have this conversation, all right,” Cynthia shouted after Dianne. “My Chester is taking matters to the law and his new Cattleman’s Association. You won’t get away with this.”
Dianne wanted to turn around and comment but knew better than to open her mouth. If she stopped to say anything, it would only invite comment from Portia, and that was something Dianne wanted no part of. If Portia were to start in on the sad loss of her father and her belief that Trenton was the one responsible, Dianne knew she’d be unable to keep silent.
Things were no better at Malachi’s blacksmith shop, however. Dianne entered to find Cole standing nose to nose with a man who could only be described as a younger and meaner looking version of Chester Lawrence. The man spoke a string of obscenities that left Dianne wide-eyed.
“You’ve taken our calves for the last time, Selby.”
“We have no need of your calves. Like I told your father, feel free to come by and inspect the calves. You’ll clearly see they have absolutely nothing in common with your herd.”
The man narrowed his eyes. “Bad things have a way of happenin’ to cattle thieves in these parts. I heard tell of a man dragged behind a horse for five miles for stealing. Wouldn’t hurt my feelings at all if the same was to happen to you.”
“Cole, yo horse be ready,” Malachi said, coming to stand beside the two men. Dianne breathed a sigh of relief. Malachi had arms like tree trunks and fists the size of hams. If there was to be a fight, Dianne knew whose side Malachi would take.
“Get outta my way,” the younger man growled, pushing at Malachi. The big man wasn’t even moved. “I said, get outta my way.” His right hand went to the handle of his gun.
“Do you plan to shoot the man in cold blood, Jerrod?”
Dianne turned to see Chester Lawrence stride into the room. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or further concerned.
“We’ll let the law handle this matter,” Lawrence said, coming alongside Dianne. “Mrs. Selby,” he said, touching his hat. “Come on, boy. We’ve got work to do.”
Jerrod reluctantly relaxed his grip on the revolver and stormed out of the shop. Chester looked hard at Cole. “We’ve turned this over to the law, just so you know. I’ve helped form a new Cattleman’s Association to deal with situations such as this. Smaller ranches don’t appreciate folks stealing away their stock.”
“If you’re trying to say something,” Cole said in a tone that caused the hairs on the back of Dianne’s neck to prickle, “then just come right out and say it.”
“I intend to see you charged with cattle rustling to start with,” Lawrence said matter-of-factly. “And I intend to see you run out of this valley before winter.”
He stomped out of the shop in much the same fashion as his son. Dianne looked to Cole in confusion. “His wife said something similar. She suggested we had taken their calves after killing or running off the mamas.”
“Lawrence knows nothing about ranching in Montana. His experiences have been back East. As I hear it, his English-born grandparents moved to America and began raising cattle in Massachusetts. His parents tried their hand and then Chester heard about the big land grants being given out here for desert land.”
“The Lawrence property can hardly be called desert. Surely he didn’t qualify for the Desert Land Act.”
“I’m not completely certain,” Cole said, his gaze still fixed to the door where Lawrence and his son had exited. “But if there was a way to cheat the government out of good grazing ground, I’m sure Lawrence figured it out.”
Dianne nodded. The entire family was trouble, she really had no doubt of that. Though Mara had seemed very decent and had actually played peacemaker between Dianne and Cynthia. Maybe there was hope for at least one member of the Lawrence family.
CHAPTER 17
MONTHS LATER THE SELBYS WERE STILL WAITING FOR THE Lawrence threats to manifest themselves. It was like being under siege—watching and waiting for the attack to come. They couldn’t see the enemy, but he was out there, just the same.
“What do you suppose they mean to do? They’ve been threatening us for months—and all because spring roundup didn’t go their way. Now we’re heading into another fall and they still are making threats but doing nothing. What does it mean?”Dianne asked Cole as they sat with Koko in the main sitting room, enjoying the evening. The boys were all asleep and it seemed the perfect time to get a grasp on the situation regarding Chester Lawrence and his family.
A tray of hot coffee and tea sat nearby. Getting to his feet, Cole crossed to the refreshments and picked up a cup. He looked thoughtful as he poured a cup of coffee. “I have no idea what Lawrence is up to. I’ve heard some troubling rumors but thought to ignore them. Guess I can’t ignore them now.”
“What rumors?” Koko asked. She had sent her own children upstairs to ready for bed.
“There’s talk that Lawrence has been threatening area ranchers. Especially the smaller operations. He wants everyone to join his Cattleman’s Association, and apparently some men, like Whitson Farley and G. W. Vandercamp, have refused.”
“Because of our stand against it?”
“Probably. I know Whit talked long and hard to me a couple months back, and when I pointed out that everyone of power in these parts was benefiting in some manner from Lawrence, I think he realized for himself how dangerous the situation could be. He told me he didn’t plan to join anything headed up by that man.”
“And Lawrence has threatened him?”
Cole nodded and took a long drink. Dianne could tell by his tone that he was worried. He’d been testy and difficult for several months—especially since the encounter in Madison with Lawrence and his son.
“Do you think—”
Rusty
began to bark wildly. Cole jumped to his feet and reached for the rifle that hung over the door. Dianne followed her husband to the front door, taking up a table lamp as they went.
“Stay here. It might be bears again.”
Dianne nodded. Koko stood not two feet behind. The women exchanged a worried glance but said nothing. Dianne stepped to the door and held the lamp up. The sight that greeted her completely stunned her.
“Whitson?” Cole questioned, putting the rifle aside in order to help the man.
Dianne could see that Whitson Farley was in bad shape. He sat on his horse looking as though he’d been beaten, his face bloodied and swollen. Instead of dismounting the horse, he swayed and fell toward Cole.
“Get a bed ready,” Cole declared, hoisting the man over his shoulder.
Dianne hurried to do as Cole had instructed. “The bedroom at the top of the stairs would be best.”
“I’ll get my medicine bag and some hot water,” Koko said, moving off toward the kitchen.
Dianne rushed up the stairs with Cole coming fast behind her. She barely had time to pull down the covers when Cole deposited Whitson Farley on the bed.
Dianne gasped. It was much worse here in the light of the room. The man was barely recognizable. Teeth were missing and his eyes were nearly swollen shut. His clothing was in shreds, as if he’d been dragged behind his horse.
“Whit, who did this to you?”
The man could barely move his swollen lips. “… ar … ance.”
Cole shook his head and looked to Dianne. Dianne shrugged.
Cole knelt beside the bed. “Whit. What happened? Where’s Maggie?”
Dianne hadn’t even thought of Whit’s wife. She placed the lamp on the bedside table and quickly lit another lamp to give better light.
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