The Grandmaster's Legacy (HOT Historical Suspense, Box Set)

by Taylor Lee

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  Chapter 18

  Grant was at the debate site fifteen minutes before Wyatt arrived. Working the crowd, glad-handing as many people as he could, he was delighted that Wyatt gave him this unopposed opportunity. He changed his mind when he heard the murmurs from the crowd. Along with everyone else, he was forced to step back to allow Wyatt to make his entrance. As had happened in the saloon and was happening regularly in all of his appearances, people crowded around Wyatt. They wanted to speak to him personally, shake his hand.

  After a few minutes Wyatt grinned good naturedly. “Folks, I am pleased to stay around as long as you want after the debate. Grant and I have been looking forward to this chance to tell you how we’re different. Each of us wants to convince you why you should vote for us. Now I happen to think I have the stronger case, but the least we can do is give Grant a chance to prove me wrong.”

  The crowd laughed with delight, excited about the upcoming spectacle. Wyatt moved fluidly to the edge of the stage that had been set up in the county fairgrounds. He hopped up. In contrast Grant was forced to walk over to the steps and take each of four steps carefully while holding the makeshift railing. Wyatt winked at Tom, who smiled back with a look that said this should be fun!

  Like Lei’s, all of Wyatt’s clothes were custom made, even his trademark work pants and checkered shirts. There was no question that the black pants and matching vest he wore for the debate emphasized his tall lean frame—his tight ass, strong thighs, and muscled arms and chest. His long sleeved silver and dark grey dress shirt was complimented by a string tie held in place by a solid silver clip. Something about the color of the shirt intensified the blue of his eyes and set off his warm brown skin. To the initiated eye - and that included every full blooded Wyoming man, the slight bulge under his vest in the middle of his back and the artfully cut pant legs over his boots, confirmed that, even in dress clothes, Wyatt came armed. Dark grey tooled cowboy boots and his trademark black cowboy hat completed an outfit that Tom characterized accurately. Everything about him spoke to his wealth and his good taste. It said, this is a man who could be the governor of Wyoming.

  Even Grant recognized that he was at a disadvantage. Looking at his remarkably handsome opponent, he had to admit that the first impression one had was not that Wyatt was an Indian. Rather, he looked like a wealthy Wyoming businessman running for governor. Grant took a deep breath and made a fateful decision. In case people were fooled by outward appearances, he decided to remind them.

  “Hell, Wyatt, even I have to admit you don’t look like the guy who grew up on the reservation. Amazing what clothes can do to cover up the real you, isn’t it, folks?”

  There were groans from the crowd, including some Forrester supporters. It didn’t take long to know that Grant had made a strategic error. For anyone who missed it, Wyatt quickly drove home the point.

  With a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, he looked hard at Grant. For a moment, Grant seemed to understand his peril. Like an animal, who for a brief moment before the strike, understands he is the prey.

  “I couldn’t agree more, Grant. Take those pictures you created of me and spread around the state. I don’t know where you dug up those old Indian clothes except in someone’s dated imagination.”

  Looking out to the crowd, a genuine smile spread across Wyatt’s face. He spotted Tom and Frank and said, “Tom, could you and the men pass around those pictures that Grant made up that are supposed to be me. I’d like to see if anyone here thinks those are pictures of me.

  “Damn, I don’t think they even make those headdresses any more. Hell, Grant, even the scariest Indian in the country isn’t likely to have a bow and arrow in one hand and a spear in the other.”

  There were shouts of laughter and a buzz of excitement when the audience realized this wasn’t going to be your usual staid political debate. People surged forward in anticipation. Wyatt continued. A broad grin lit his face, his eyes danced.

  “Far as I know, you need two hands to shoot a bow and arrow, much less carry a spear at the same time. Anybody get the picture with the spear and the bow and arrow? You did, Stu? If you don’t mind, pass it around. That was the one that really got all of us laughing.”

  There were loud hoots from the audience, who were looking at the pictures that looked as ridiculous as Wyatt was pointing out. Especially when you compared them to the elegant man on the stage. Grant’s face was purple with rage. Wyatt wasn’t done.

  He picked up one of the pictures, the one that made him look like a fearsome savage.

  “Hell, look at this one. I wish I was that scary looking. Maybe I’d be able to convince my seven year old twins to pick up their toys.”

  There was a roar of appreciative laughter. Wyatt looked out into the audience and spotted a woman he knew.

  “Tell me, Harriet, your twins, Sammy and Caleb? They’re now eight, going on nine, right? Do they pick up their toys when you tell them too?”

  Harriet’s lined face softened in a knowing smile. “Sometimes, Wyatt. But, then I don’t look any scarier than you do. Maybe we should see if Grant can rustle up some scary duds like these and war paint for us both. Then we could look like he is trying to pretend you look.”

  The crowd broke out in spontaneous applause. Wyatt gave Harriet a look that said he would be in love with her for the rest of his life. She blushed with pleasure.

  Wyatt walked to the edge of the stage and looked out over the crowd. His face was serious. The crowd sensed he was about to say something important.

  “You know, folks, I took these pictures and showed them to my twins—in case they saw them and didn’t understand. I explained to them that Grant was trying to scare people and make me into something I’m not. Elena and Alex said they thought they understood, but didn’t know why he did that. Alex said, ‘Anyone who knows you, Dad, knows that is not who you are.’”

  People nodded. Many of them looked again at the pictures Wyatt had handed out and then at the smiling handsome man on the stage and shook their heads.

  “But I gotta tell you, folks, Grant created some pictures that he spread around the state that I did not show my children. I hope to god they never see them. They are the pictures Grant created of Lei, their mother.

  “How many of you have seen those pictures? The ones Grant spread around last week? Yeah? I was afraid of that. I guess any of you who have wives or daughters or, hell, if you have a mother, you can imagine what I felt like when I saw those pictures. Probably made you a little sick, right?

  “Makes you wonder about someone who could think up pictures like those, right? Yeah, I agree. It takes a mighty sick man to think about women that way.”

  There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd.

  Again, he looked out into the crowd and spoke personally to people he knew.

  “Bill, how old is Ellie, about ten? God, don’t tell me she is already twelve. Where does the time go? Just think, Bill, in six years she will be a grown woman. She could be the subject of pictures like those Grant made of Lei, if someone who hated women also hated you and wanted to do something to hurt you.

  “And Pete, I know that Mariana and Elena – that’s my seven year old daughter, folks—are the same age. I bet you felt like I did, Pete, when you saw the pictures. It must of gone through your head, what if Mariana saw them by accident? How could you explain to a seven year old little girl a man who thinks about women the way Grant does?

  “Thinking about women in that hideous way is bad enough. But can you believe that Grant was willing to spread those pictures all around the state where little girls and boys and men and women—good church-going, god-fearing people could see them?”

  Grant’s face by now was a solid sheet of red verging on purple. Sweat soaked the neck of his shirt. His armpits were wet. The stain was spreading. He stepped up beside Wyatt and said in as strong a voice as he could muster, “Now just a goddamn minute here, Wyatt. Aren’t you forgetting to mention something? That woman of yours is a Chink!” />
  There were audible gasps from the crowd. Wyatt never looked at him, just continued to walk back and forth across the front of the stage making eye contact with as many people as he could.

  “Yes, Grant, Lei is part Chinese. But, as you said, she is a woman. Now I know you didn’t grow up around here, that you aren’t from Wyoming. Let me tell you something, Grant, you likely don’t know, not being from Wyoming. You see, Grant, Wyoming men have a special feeling about women.

  “First and foremost, we respect them. I think I can speak for every man here when I say that we don’t like it one bit when a man treats a defenseless woman the way you did Lei.”

  Murmurs from the crowd were louder, more intense. People were shaking their heads in agreement. Many looked at Grant in disgust.

  “Christ, Grant, she is only twenty four years old. A lot of the men in this audience have daughters her age. They’d go crazy if you did something like that to their daughters or to their wives.

  “Yeah, Grant, in Wyoming we think women are special. Hell, we gave em the vote before anyone else did.”

  There were cheers and clapping from the crowd and more than a few appreciative whistles.

  “I know that hasn’t been one of your issues in all the campaigns you have run. In fact, in New Mexico last fall, you went out of your way to defeat the two candidates who supported women’s rights. It’s different here. If you’d been here a little longer you’d know that, Stick around or, better yet, talk to some of the suffragettes who are working in your state of New Mexico. They can help you understand how giving women the vote could help make New Mexico a better state, not the laughing stock it is now, with corruption at every level of government.

  Wyatt turned to Grant and stepped back from the edge of the stage, as if to give Grant better access to the audience. The gleam in his eye was more consistent with throwing him to the lions.

  “Hey, sorry, Grant, I didn’t mean to monopolize the conversation. I know this is supposed to be a debate. Speaking of corruption, Clem Stevens asked me a question when I came in, about water rights in Natrona County. Everyone here knows where I stand on that issue. I’m not sure they know where you stand. Clem, why don’t you ask Grant what you asked me? I’ll step back and give Grant a chance to speak up.”

  Wyatt picked an issue he was ninety percent sure Grant knew nothing about, but that was critically important to about half the people in the audience. He was right. It was painful listening to Grant try to bullshit his way through an answer that had no relationship to the question.

  Fifteen minutes and three questions later, with the same result, Grant stepped to the front of the stage and thanked the audience for coming.

  “This was a great opportunity, folks. I hope we have the chance to do it again. Thanks for inviting me.”

  With that, he huffed off the stage, his face purple with anger and his breath coming so hard it was a question if his heart would make it. Wyatt stayed back for a moment, giving him a chance to get down the stairs. He strode back to the center of the stage.

  “Well, folks, I understood this “debate” was to last two hours. It’s only been thirty five minutes. So unless you have to get home early, I’d be pleased to answer any of your questions.”

  There was a burst of applause from the audience. A dozen hands shot up.

  “I’ll start right here on this side. Since we’re gonna be here for a while, Sam and Tom, could you make sure that our men bring everyone who wants one a beer or at least a glass of lemonade. I won’t be offended if any of you want to step to the tables over there and pick up a plate of the barbecue my campaign is providing. Hell, folks, since it is just us, we may as well make ourselves comfortable and have a party!”

  The “party” went on for five hours. More food and beer were consumed than had been at the county’s last Fourth of July celebration. Through it all, Wyatt stood on the stage, walking back and forth, answering scores of questions. He never lost his affable charm and pleasant grin, was never stumped by a question. No matter how general or how specific the issue, Wyatt had thought about it and freely gave his opinion. When someone disagreed, he encouraged them to speak up. Many times, those were the best questions and were followed by a lively discussion. Sometimes, Wyatt conceded he needed to do more thinking on the issue. More often, the questioner declared Wyatt had won him over.

  The buzz the next day across the county was how Wyatt McManus kicked Grant Forrester’s ass so bad and so far that Grant probably still hadn’t found where it landed.

  The only people who felt that Grant had done worse than the crowd did, was his campaign team.

  In contrast, Wyatt and his team were understandably ecstatic. When the shit hit, as it did too soon, they would say to one another, “Remember the Casper debate?”

  And then they would move on, desperately trying to recapture that glorious long gone moment in the campaign.

  ~~~

  Chapter 19

  “Masterful! Extraordinary! Unbelievable! God damn, Wyatt, I have never in my life—and this is the twenty third political campaign I have been involved in—never seen what I witnessed today. This goes down in the annals of political theater. People will be writing about it for years to come!”

  Tom couldn’t contain himself. He was euphoric.

  “He’s right, Wyatt. We have been around Washington together for nearly two decades. I thought I had seen it all. The way you used those pictures today and managed that meeting was masterful! Tom chose the right word.” Keith raised his glass. The rest of the campaign team who had met in the hotel bar stood and raised their glasses to their hero.

  Wyatt grinned and nodded in acknowledgement as toast after toast followed.

  Virtually the whole team had been at the debate. As they returned in groups, they joined the party. Each group came over to the table where Wyatt, Tom, Chief, and Alono sat, to congratulate Wyatt. The Washington people were the most effusive. Over the years, they had worked with one politician after another, but Wyatt had an authenticity, a natural talent that swept them off their feet. And it wasn’t just the women. The men were as wowed as the women. None of them had seen a take down that came close to what Wyatt had done to Grant Forrester. Through it all, he never lost his predatory eloquence, or his grin.

  As the celebration continued and the alcohol flowed freely, the party grew more and more rowdy. As Lei had noted the “pussy quotient” of the campaign staff was heavily weighted in favor of men—with at least two to three women for every man. It was especially apparent when they were all together as they were tonight. Soon the bar was filled with music, bawdy laughter, and men surrounded by eager available women—all of whom were taking advantage of the beer that flowed like water.

  Chief and Alono glanced at each other. Wyatt caught their concerned exchange. He nodded to the buxom serving girl to refill their glasses, then grinned at them both.

  “Hang in there, Alono; you too, Chief. I’m going to stay just long enough to be sociable. I want to meet with you both and Tom back at the headquarters office. We need to plan the next ten days. Tom wants me to do a complete sweep of the state, but I promised Lei and the children that I would be back at the ranch within the next couple of days. You two have to help me convince Tom how important that is.”

  “What’s important?” asked Tom as he returned from a conversation with several of the Caballeros.

  “That we get the hell out of here and go back to my office so that we can have a real strategy session. Let’s go!”

  They all stood. Wyatt made a quick circle of the bar, thanking the staff and telling them to enjoy themselves, which they all made clear they intended to do. Salacious laughter and open solicitations had begun to ricochet through the party. The four of them grinned at each other, knowing what would happen within the next several hours. More than a few of the women exchanged disappointed looks as Wyatt left the party with his three closest advisors.

  Back at the office Wyatt poured them each a glass of bourbon, han
ded out his best cigars, then sunk into his chair with a satisfied grin, allowing himself to savor the success of the day.

  Tom’s eyes were shining like stars. “Wyatt, I wasn’t exaggerating out there. You were masterful. You took over that crowd in a way I have never seen. If Grant had supporters in the beginning, they were your people by the end. I don’t believe that even now Grant understands what happened. As if you had written it for him, the first sentence out of his mouth gave you your opening. And, son of a bitch that you are, you took it and ran with it. You never fucking let go.”

  Wyatt grinned a satisfied smile. “Yeah, Grant walked right into it, didn’t he?”

  “Wyatt, he walked into you! This is no time for modesty. We are here to plan the next couple of weeks. By God, I want to figure out how we can bottle what happened today and take it on the road.”

  “You’re right, Tom. But the question is what happens next? How does Grant respond to today? My sense is that we will hear soon that due to unavoidable scheduling conflicts, the next three debates will have to be rescheduled ‘indefinitely’.”

  Chief nodded in agreement. “Even if Grant’s ego is so big that he still thinks he can stand toe to toe with you, his staff has to be telling him he’s done.”

  Tom nodded. “I think that’s a given. But we can shove it further up his ass by refusing to reschedule and have the debates, even if he doesn’t show. My recommendation is that we keep the same schedule with or without Grant. Damn, then we’ll add meetings in every part of the state.”

  Wyatt sipped on his bourbon and nodded. “I agree with you, Tom, but I also have to get back to the ranch. Lei and the children are expecting me and…”

  “Wyatt, I understand, but we have to strike while we are hot. I’m telling you, every paper in the state is going to be writing about that “debate” today, and not only because I am planting the stories. We have to build on what you created today. I am bringing in national press people to cover this next week or so. I’m telling you right now that you are the hottest political commodity there is.”