"Baxter," Rafe said pleasantly. "I'm Rafe Jackson, Dusty's brother."
"I know who you are, you son of a bitch," Josh snapped, "and I know what you did to your sister. What I don't know is what business you think you have with me, but you can go straight to hell."
Rafe's expression remained unflappable in the face of Josh’s ire. His tone was smooth and reasonable. “What do you really know, Baxter?” he asked. “The only information you have is a story concocted by a pack of vengeful women. From what I understand, you haven’t fared much better at their hands. If you can spare the time, I'd like to buy you a steak. I'd appreciate the opportunity to discuss some business with you. We may have a great deal more to talk about than you realize."
"I repeat," Josh said levelly. "You go to hell."
"That may well be where the Good Lord chooses to send me," Rafe said, "but it won't be because of anything I allegedly did to my sister. That nonsense, however, has nothing to do with why I'm here. I'd like to talk to you about the Baxter land."
"It's not for sale if that's what you're after," Josh said.
"I have no interest in decreasing your holdings," Rafe replied. "Quite to the contrary. I would like to see you regain all the land to which you are legally entitled and then use it to your best advantage. Have you ever heard of the Fisher-Miller Land Grant?"
Josh regarded him with a stony expression, but some flicker of interest stirred in his mind. "I know my land was originally deeded to my great-great-something-grandfather as part of that grant," he said.
"Yes," Rafe said, "it was. And the land next to you was deeded to Collins Lockwood, supposedly in recognition for his service to General Sam Houston during the Texas Revolution. A most honorable reward for his valor, except the whole story is a lie. The Lockwoods are not known for their upstanding actions in regard to land allotments in this county. I suspect you will find the truth much more interesting than the legend."
"Get to the point.”
"What if I were to tell you that the infamous poker game that ended with Milton Lockwood acquiring Baxter's Draw from your grandfather, Daniel, was rigged?" Rafe asked. "Rigged, I believe, to cover up another crime."
Josh frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about Milton Lockwood blackmailing your grandfather. Do I have your attention now?"
Reluctantly, Josh said, "I'm listening."
Rafe glanced around. "This really isn't a conversation to be having in the parking lot of the local dive. Why don't we adjourn to the cafe and enjoy a nice meal? If you like, we can have cigars and brandy on my patio later in the evening."
"All right," Josh said. "I'll go with you, but all I'm promising to do is listen."
"That's all I'm asking," Rafe said. "Please, follow me."
Josh watched as the portly banker returned to his car, started the engine, and pulled out on Main Street. Josh followed him, parking his truck next to the banker's ostentatious black Lexus in front of the cafe. The two men walked in together and Rafe asked for a table at the back of the dining room.
When their steaks were ordered and each man had a cold mug of draft beer, Jake looked at Rafe and said flatly, "Okay, if you've got something to say, say it."
"I see you're a direct man," Rafe said smoothly. "I like that. I'd also like to tell you a story. One that starts during the days of the Texas Republic."
Over the course of their dinner, and well into the evening afterwards, Rafe Jackson talked. He told Josh about two young men born in Georgia in 1813 named Collins Lockwood and Evans Baxter. Raised like brothers on neighboring farms, they dreamed of exploring the frontier. In the 1830s, with nothing but the horses they rode and the clothes on their backs, they came to Texas and, as luck would have it, fought with General Sam Houston at the Battle of San Jacinto during the Texas Revolution.
After the passage of 182 years no one could say whether they were brave, foolish, or that particular combination of both that tends to make heroes of ordinary men. Regardless, Collins and Evans found themselves involved in building the new Republic of Texas, and during Houston's second term as president of Texas, Collins was elected to the republic's House of Representatives.
In his political capacity, he got to know a land speculator from New York, John Thomas Mason. Perhaps it was Mason or some other dreamer who put two books in Collins’ hands. One was Henri Fournel's 1841 Coup d'oeil historique et statistique sur le Texas and the other was an 1843 English novel, Captain Marryat's Monsieur Valet. Although he could read, Collins did not speak French. How he overcame this obstacle is lost to the annals of history, but both books served to put a particular part of the republic in his mind, the area around the old Spanish presidio of San Saba.
In Monsier Valet, Collins read words that stirred his blood. "The Comanches have a great profusion of gold, which they obtain from the neighborhood of the San Seba [sic] hills, and work it themselves into bracelets, armlets, diadems, as well as bits for their horses, and ornaments for their saddles."
Call it coincidence or fate, but at just this same time, three men, Henry Francis Fisher, Joseph Baker, and Burchard Miller, representing the San Saba Colonization Company, petitioned the House of Representatives for renewal of their contract to settle 1,000 families on 3,878,000 acres in that very area.
Lockwood lore claimed Collins Lockwood received part of the Fisher-Miller Land Grant in recognition for his service during the revolution, but in reality the land was a bribe. He secured prime acreage for himself and for his best friend, Evans Baxter, in exchange for guaranteeing renewal of the contract. Both men, now 30 years of age, hastily married and moved their new wives to the frontier.
Between 1843 and 1876, their friendship continued uninterrupted until a young boy, Isaac Kountz, was killed on Christmas Eve in the last known Indian raid in what was, by then, Kimble County in the state of Texas. The generally accepted reports say the Indians fled north toward the main Llano River, but first they headed south and east, crossing both Baxter and Lockwood land in the process.
What happened next depends on which family tells the story. According to the Baxters, their men went for help. In the Lockwood version, the Baxters ran.
Collins, still stalwart at 63 years of age, his son, Seaton, 46, and Seaton's 23-year-old son, Weston, rode with the Texas Rangers in search of the Comanche raiding party, leaving the Baxters to defend both ranches.
But the Baxter men were nowhere to be found. When the Indians galloped into the yard of the Rocking L, it was Weston’s wife, Johanna, who confronted them with her three-year-old boy, Milton, clinging to her skirts.
In her hand, Johanna held a Colt revolver, and behind her stood the older Lockwood women. Seaton's wife, Almira, trained a shotgun on the warriors, while Collins’ wife, Bethany, levered a shell into the chamber of an 1873 Model Winchester. In a calm voice, Johanna ordered the Comanche off her land. It was a bold move, one that could have ended in brutal death for them all, but instead, the Indians rode away.
The Lockwood women and children spent a terrified, watchful night alone. When their men returned and heard what had happened, Collins flew into a towering rage, immediately riding hell for leather to the Baxter home where he shot and killed Evans Baxter for a coward. No charges were ever pressed against Collins, but no Lockwood who came after him ever missed a chance to take something from a Baxter.
As a grown man, Milton Lockwood pulled off the final swindle when he took Baxter's Draw off Daniel Baxter in a drunken poker game. The Draw, which jutted like an upraised finger into Lockwood land, brought the family's holdings to a full 10,000 acres, while the Baxters retained less than a thousand.
By the time Rafe Jackson reached this part of his narrative, he and Josh were sitting in the darkness of his patio behind the home where Rafe and Dusty were raised. When Rafe inherited the property from their mother, Melba, he immediately renovated the structure. What had been a respectable, but plain, 1960s ranch covered in clapboard siding was now an imposing red-brick structure
that occupied two full lots.
Before the two men, a small blaze crackled in an elaborate fire pit. Although Josh puffed contemplatively at his cigar, he hadn't touched the brandy sitting in a crystal tumbler at his elbow. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked, when Rafe paused for breath.
"Because I think Milton Lockwood knew what was really up in that draw," Rafe replied. "His great-granddaddy came out here looking for gold, but it was Milton who found it and took it off your grandfather."
"And what?" Josh said. "Just sat on it? That poker game was in 1937. Are you seriously telling me that Milton just held onto a cave full of treasure and did nothing with it?"
"I am," Rafe said. "At the time, Milton had no heir. He was a confirmed old bachelor. Langston wasn't born until 1939 and he didn't come of age until 1957."
"Which is the year Alice Browning was killed," Josh said.
"Exactly," Rafe said. "And Milton died a year later. Apparently without telling Langston about the treasure, since by his own admission, Langston found the cave by accident. But there's more to the story."
"Of course there is," Josh said sarcastically.
"Don't be so quick to judge," Rafe said. "The day before that poker game a man went missing in the county and was never heard from again."
"And who would that be?"
"Simpson Browning."
Josh frowned. "Browning?"
"Yes," Rafe said triumphantly. "Alice Browning's great uncle. Benton Browning's twin brother."
"What does that have to do with Daniel Baxter and Milton Lockwood?"
Rafe rubbed his hands together. "This is where the plot thickens," he said. "Simpson and Benton Browning were both learned men of letters. Benton's field was literature, but Simpson was an historian. He was friends with the greats of Texas history: Walter Prescott Webb, J. Frank Dobie, and Roy Bedichek. Simpson had a particular fondness for legends of Spanish treasure."
"So what?"
"I believe Simpson Browning was actually the first man to find the treasure in Baxter's Draw. He intended to disclose the information in the name of scholarship. When he told your grandfather of his intentions, the two men quarreled and Simpson was accidentally killed. Milton Lockwood blackmailed Daniel with the information to gain control of the Draw. Apparently Daniel wanted to stay out of prison more than he wanted a cave full of Aztec treasure."
"How in the world could you know all this?" Josh asked.
From the darkness behind them, a woman's voice said, "He knows it because I told him."
Josh stood and turned as a dark-haired woman emerged from the shadows. "Excuse me for startling you, Josh," she said. "Allow me to introduce myself. Retta Thornton."
"What's going on here?" Josh demanded.
"Retta is a local," Rafe said. "Her maiden name was Brewer. Her sister, Jinx, is the mayor's secretary. Retta came back to town a few months ago to open a law practice. Within the week she'll be throwing her name into the mayoral race, which she will win based on a real program of economic revitalization, one firmly grounded in high-priced land development, not new strands of Christmas tinsel on Main Street."
Josh studied the woman silently. She was tall and lean with hawkish features and a certain resentful haughtiness that made her seem vaguely dangerous in the flickering firelight. “And just what do I have to do with any of that?” he asked.
"You," Retta said, "are the key to regaining the lost Baxter land, taking the Rocking L from the Lockwoods and selling a major portion of it to my backers, which will make you incredibly wealthy and avenge generations of your family. Sound like fun?"
Her full lips curled into a feral smile when she uttered the last words, and in spite of himself, Josh smiled back. "Now why would you think I'd be interested in doing something like that?" he asked.
"You were interested in working with Robert Marino," Retta said. "You linked him up with your old friend, John Fisk. You were there the day Langston Lockwood killed himself. You were Marino's eyes and ears, but then you made a mistake, didn't you, Josh? You fell for Jenny Lockwood. Did you sell Marino out, or was it just luck that Kate killed him in the cave that day?"
Josh regarded her silently as if weighing his options. Her slate blue eyes never left his face and he felt something stir inside him under the boldness of her gaze. "It was luck," he said quietly, bringing the neglected cigar back to his lips and drawing deeply to ignite the tip.
When Retta spoke again, her voice dropped to a seductive purr. "So you got away with the whole thing,” she said. “You almost had the whole Rocking L the easy way, and then Jenny threw one of her little nervous fits and tossed you out on your backside. Ready for a little hardball now?"
He reached down and picked up his brandy, downing the amber liquid in one quick shot. The reflection of the flames flickered in the facets of the crystal tumbler. The liquor burned down his throat and sent tendrils of warmth throughout his nervous system. For the first time in weeks, Josh Baxter felt alive. “More than ready,” he said. “Let’s play.”
115
Kate stared at the engraved invitation in her hand and then looked up at Jake, trying not to convey the sense of panic she was feeling. "Black tie?" she said weakly.
"Yes," he grinned. "And you can stop looking like a deer caught in the headlights. You'll look gorgeous in an evening dress. And I'll be all decked out in my penguin suit. We'll take a swank room at the Menger and stay overnight, do the tourist thing on Saturday. You could use a weekend away from the ranch."
She looked back down at the invitation. "What exactly is the Institute of Texan Cultures anyway?"
"A museum," Jake said. "One that wants to hear your boyfriend talk about the discovery of Aztec artifacts on your ranch. Dinner, me talking, dancing. That doesn't sound so bad, does it?"
She started to tell him it sounded like nine kinds of awful, but the happy, expectant look on his face stopped her. "You really want to do this, don't you?" Kate asked.
"Yes," he said. "Not the talking part. The showing you off and being alone with you for a weekend part. That I want to do."
"I don't own an evening dress," she pointed out a little defensively.
"They sell them in stores," he explained gravely. "I've heard about the practice."
In spite of herself, the corners of Kate's mouth quirked downward in amusement. She turned away from him, putting the invitation on the dresser. Before she could say anything else, Jake's arms snaked around her waist and he pulled her back against his body. "What is it?" he asked.
"I'll look like a country bumpkin at something like this," she groused. "I'm not that kind of woman, Jake."
His arms tightened around her. "You'll look like the beautiful, self-possessed woman you are," he said.
"Do you know how long it's been since I've had a dress on?" she asked.
"I have no idea," he countered. "But I'll be very glad to help you take it off the instant we get back to our room."
That did it. Kate laughed, turning in Jake's embrace to face him. "You, Professor, have a dirty mind."
"Guilty," he whispered against her lips.
"You know this means I have to go shopping," she murmured, before giving herself over to the welcome warmth of his mouth and then, reluctantly, stilling the hand that had already undone two of her shirt buttons. "We can't,” she whispered.
Undeterred, Jake slid his hand under the fabric. "Why not?" he asked.
Closing her eyes and sighing, Kate said, "Because you had the bright idea my sister should sleep here at night and I asked her to come to supper."
With a groan, Jake drew his hand away. "I am a moron," he said darkly as he began to fasten her buttons.
Kate opened her eyes and smiled at him. "No, you're not," she said. "You'll just have to be patient for a few hours. Patience is a virtue you know."
"Darling," Jake said with obvious frustration, "virtue is the last thing on my mind right now."
"I can tell," she said. "Now scoot. Go take a cold shower. Jenny will be he
re in half an hour."
Jake unhappily did as he was told. Kate let him get into the bathroom and close the door before she drew in a long, deep breath to still her own heart that was thudding wildly in her chest. No man had ever affected her the way Jake did. The mixture of utter safety and complete, reckless desire was the most intoxicating thing she'd ever experienced, and frankly, the feeling was overwhelming at times.
It wasn't just that Kate had never wanted a man the way she wanted Jake, she had never been so wanted. Her previous relationships, if they could be called that, were brief, casual, and well away from the prying eyes of Langston Lockwood. In truth, those encounters were nothing more than addressing urges. But this? Kate wasn't sure what scared her more sometimes. Being loved or being in love.
And now this man she had suddenly claimed for her own wanted to take her to a black tie dinner to show her off? Lord God in heaven. What was she supposed to do with that?
When she heard the shower go on, Kate stole a moment to self-consciously look at herself in the mirror. Jake's roaming hands had made a mess of her hair and the top button of her shirt was still undone. A slight flush colored her tanned cheeks, and studying her own reflection, Kate thought she might not be so bad looking after all. She turned and appraised her figure. Hmm. Maybe if she could find just the right dress . . .
Kate wasn't exactly sure at what point in her life she'd cast aside all thoughts of "girl stuff." It seemed like every day of her life had been about meeting men on their own ground, playing by their rules, and beating them at their own games just so they would take her seriously. After watching her parents' marriage, the last thing she wanted was a husband. In truth, there had only been two men before Jake.
Her first lover was a sweet boy who begged her to run away with him and leave the Rocking L far behind. But Kate couldn't abandon her sisters with Langston, nor could she take the risk that her father would find out about the boy. She broke it off with him on a gray fall day on the river bank, walking away and leaving him standing in a swirl of windblown leaves with tears streaming down his face. His last words echoed in her ears. "If you stay on that ranch, you'll die a lonely, bitter old woman."
The Lockwood Legacy - Books 1-6: Plus Bonus Short Stories Page 77