The Grandmaster’s Legacy: Masters of Love and War (A Taylor Lee HOT Historical Romantic Suspense Collection) (The Grandmaster's Legacy)

by Taylor Lee

  Bernie was forgettable in life. More so in death. His probable murder was the topic of conversation for a couple of days. The real interest was in who would succeed him. All the buzz was around Wyatt McManus. It was a given that whoever Wyatt chose to support had a ninety-nine to one chance of winning. Money ruled Wyoming politics. When it came to money, the word was Wyatt. But this election might be different, Charlie Masters, Wyoming’s senator, mused. The guy who lost the last election to Bernie had already thrown his hat in the ring. Shit, if anyone had almost as much money behind him as Wyatt McManus had personally, it was Grant Forrester.

  ~~~

  Charlie Masters met Tom Caldwell and Arthur Stone at the train station in Cheyenne. He took one look at Tom’s navy blue and red window pane plaid pants, yellow shirt and hastily added cowboy hat and shook his head in despair.

  “Damn, Tom, I thought the plan was for you to make a quick undercover trip in from Washington. So much for keeping our meeting under wraps. You’ll be the talk of the saloon within ten minutes. Everyone will know we’re here to see Wyatt. Hell, Tom, you don’t think you’re gonna get on a horse with pants like that, do you? You’ll scare the horse!”

  Arthur Young, a circuit judge and native of New Mexico, reassured him. “Don’t worry about me, Senator. I won’t embarrass you. I just need a place to change. Now Tom here is a different story. This is what he thinks constitutes western wear.”

  Tom quirked a brow in mock dismay. “Look you two; I specifically bought these clothes from a shop in Washington that touted ‘Western Wear.’ They told me this plaid is all the rage in the West. Are you trying to tell me I got snookered?”

  Charlie scoffed, “They’re a rage all right—an outrage. Those shopkeepers are still laughing their asses off at you, Tom. All the while counting your money.”

  Charlie shook his head and took a puff off his cigar. “Judge, why don’t you go in the hotel and change. Wyatt sent a couple of his men in with horses for us. Tom and I will meet you at the hotel stables.”

  ~~~

  Two hours later, Alono, the head of Wyatt’s security team, led the three men up to the gate of Blue Canyon Ranch.

  “I think Wyatt is over in the dojo. Lei is getting ready to fight a prospective master. Wyatt asked that you join him. You can leave your horses here. We’ll take care of them and see that your bags get to the guest quarters,” Alono said. “Here comes Chief now. He’ll take you over to the dojo.”

  An older Indian man with a long grey pony tail, a scarred weathered face and a welcoming grin came toward them with his hands outstretched. “Tom, Judge, Senator, welcome to Blue Canyon.” He winked at them. “Any chance the reason you’ve all come rushing in from Washington has to do with the fact our governor’s dead? It’s no secret why you’re here. I wish you well. I’ll be surprised if you succeed. Hell, it’s worth a try.”

  Chief grinned and raised his eyebrows at Tom’s unusual garb. He had known Tom Caldwell for twenty years. Tom was one of the first men to join the Caballeros, Wyatt’s team of advisers and protectors. Tom saw the leader in the arrogant young half-breed. He said he never regretted his decision to join the incipient group. Like everyone close to Wyatt, Tom was smart as hell. As Wyatt grew wealthy so did Tom along with the rest of the Caballeros. Tom was unusual in that he had been chosen specifically for his brains and connections to the financial and political markets in the East. Unlike the rest of the Caballeros Tom didn’t serve the dual purpose of physically protecting Wyatt. He always joked with Wyatt. “Hell, they just keep the bad guys from killing you. I keep them from stealing your money.”

  ~~~

  Wyatt stood in the back of the dojo. When the door opened, he acknowledged the three distinguished looking men in the doorway and motioned them to enter. Not surprisingly their eyes widened at the scene inside. Except for Chief and himself, they were the only non-Chinese in the room. A hushed silence hovered over the dojo. Unlike the usual raucous sounds of shrieking warriors and bodies slamming, kicking, and crashing against the floor and walls, the dojo was eerily quiet. Fifty or so students and teachers stood in a circle around the edge of the dojo, all eyes locked on the two fighters stretching on the center mat.

  The two fighters were markedly different in size. It was astonishing to think that the two of them were preparing to do battle with one another. The young man, Sang Fe, was six inches taller and easily outweighed his opponent by fifty pounds. When the smaller fighter rose from the mat, a collective gasp escaped from the visitors at the sight of the stunning young woman. Wyatt’s breath hitched at the familiar surge of lust that Lei never failed to elicit in his body.

  Lei was Chinese, but clearly some white blood had snuck into her heritage. Her features were unusual. Whatever had gone into the gene mix to create her, the result was stunning. Dark arched brows and a curtain of lush black lashes shaded her starling wide green eyes. Her skin was pale, her cheeks had a rosy flush and whoever created her mouth was an artistic genius. And, hell, it was a good thing all the men around her could only guess at the lush body beneath her shapeless gi. She was slender and taller than most Chinese women he knew. The fierceness in her eyes belied her delicate physical appearance. She looked like a princess, not a fierce fighter. No one knew better than Wyatt that impression would be dispelled in the first minute of the match, never to return.

  Lei and Sang Fe stepped to the center of the ring and bowed to each other. Joey Chen rang the gong. For the next twenty minutes the visitors watched a sight Wyatt was sure they would never forget. Sang Fe sprang forward, his hands raised like mallets. With a savage scream, he rushed toward Lei’s face. Lei responded with a backward flip. She flew through the air, rolled on the floor, and drove a fierce kick to Sang’s shoulder, knocking him to the ground. From that moment on, Lei evaded every strike, countering with an aerial move or counterstrike that had Sang Fe breathless, struggling to respond. Like a greased monkey, she ducked, slipped, and slid away from every attack.

  After twenty minutes of attack and counterattack, with Lei landing most of her strikes, and Sang Fe landing few, Lei backed up against the wall. Wyatt’s chest tightened with anticipation. No matter how many times he had seen her trademark move, it always astonished him. With a fierce shriek, she dove across the floor toward a startled Sang Fe. Flipping twice to the front, and once to the back, she soared though the air. Sang Fe looked up in wonder as she flew down toward his upturned face. Too late, he tried to evade the approaching force. With a resounding crack, her heel hit his jaw. Sang fell to the floor, writhing in pain, clutching his jaw. Sympathetic groans and murmurs of appreciation echoed in the dojo.

  Lei immediately stepped back and held up her hands. She stood silently as the young man gathered his traumatized body and shattered pride, and struggled to his feet. Lei bowed low. Sang Fe shook off his tears and returned the bow. With her head in the air, Lei left the ring. She glanced to the back of the dojo and met Wyatt’s gaze. He smiled and bowed low. She returned the bow, bowed to Joey Chen, her sensei, then turned toward the changing room as the applause erupted in the dojo.

  ~~~

  Tom followed behind as Wyatt guided his visitors out to the yard. He marveled at the sight and presence of the man who was his leader and his friend. Wyatt was a strikingly handsome man with an easy arrogance that was more appealing than off putting. He was tall and lean, but his powerful gait underscored his strong muscular body. His dark hair, warm brown skin, and high cheekbones spoke to his ancestry. His blue eyes, the giveaway to his half-breed status, twinkled when he took in Tom’s unusual garb. He turned to Arthur Stone and shook his head in mock dismay.

  “Now come on, Judge, you could have taken him by the hand and bought him a pair of work pants, couldn’t you? Christ, Tom, with all the money I pay you, that’s what you wear to a Wyoming ranch?”

  “Hell, Wyatt, if I had an ass like yours, I would have bought a pair of breeches. I concede. Maybe Alono will take pity on me and help me buy some clothes that will make me look like l
ess of an asshole.”

  “I don’t care what you look like, Tom. It’s damn good to see you. Welcome to Blue Canyon. Judge, I appreciate you coming and you too, Senator.”

  Shaking hands with the two white-haired visitors, he said, “Arthur, Charlie, it’s been too long. Welcome to you all.

  “I know you’re all here to talk politics. We’ll do that over dinner. While we’re waiting for Lei, let’s go to my office. Perhaps I can entice you with a big glass of Scotch.

  Wyatt grew up a couple of miles from the ranch. He’d been coming to Joey Chen’s dojo since he was eight years old. He was only nineteen when the Triads sent an assassin to avenge their code against non-Chinese practicing kung fu. The match was infamous for its violent savagery. Wyatt, the upstart warrior, killed the Tong leader and became known as the grandmaster. Over the years, a black belt earned at his dojo was coveted by Chinese fighters. They came to respect the blue-eyed Indian who killed his way to the top of their warrior art.

  The Wyoming Ranch was his favorite property, his home base. Nestled in the Rocky Mountains, it was surrounded by canyons, distant snowcapped mountain ranges and wide open grasslands. Twelve years ago, he bought the ranch and rebuilt it to reflect his passions. As they walked to the office, he pointed out the main buildings. In addition to the dojo, his horse stables housed exotic breeds from around the world. Breeders and horse lovers came from across the West to marvel at the collection. Four barns, a bunkhouse, and a central lodge, flanked Joey’s and Chief’s private residences. The centerpiece of the ranch was Wyatt’s sprawling cottage. Built primarily of stone and glass, it had large windows throughout that captured panoramic views from every direction. The family’s personal quarters comprised half of the building. The other half was given over to the operational nerve center of Wyatt’s business enterprise.

  While they waited for Lei in his office, Wyatt invited Arthur, Tom, and Charlie to join him for a before dinner drink. Rooting around in his well-stocked liquor cabinet, he pulled out a bottle of Walker’s Old Highland, his favorite blended Scotch whiskey. Pouring a healthy three fingers of the amber liquid in four glasses, he handed one to each of his guests. Smiling at the judge, he said with a disarming smile, “I remember when you first introduced me to this fine Scotch, Judge. What was I? Twenty-one? Twenty-two? Hell, all I knew was that I could barely crawl up to my hotel room when you finished almost drinking me under the table. But we did make an interesting purchase that night, didn’t we?”

  The deep wrinkles around the judge’s eyes crinkled at the memory. “Hell, Wyatt, even then no one except maybe me knew that the kid at the table was anything but completely in control. Especially when you convinced those scallywags to sell you that parcel of land they thought was worthless for what seemed at the time an astronomical price.”

  A soft smile crossed Wyatt’s face. He strode over to one of the maps that covered most of the walls in his spacious office. Pointing to a large tract of land along the Nevada border, Wyatt’s smile widened. “Yep, that was the critical piece to our acquiring that lode of silver, our second after the Leadville strike. Hell, the assholes never forgave me for that one, did they, Judge?”

  All of the men laughed in appreciation and looked with interest at the maps covering most of the walls. Wyatt’s various properties included land in four territories, two states, and the Leadville silver mine that he bought when he was nineteen years old. In typical Wyatt fashion, he bought the Leadville property because he liked the view. Two years later, they discovered silver. That purchase and a knack for seeing the future helped him build one of most significant fortunes in the West. His latest purchase of oil wells in California and Texas had prospectors scampering. As usual, Wyatt was there years before the followers caught on. He was on to his next venture while the less visionary scrambled to catch up.

  Wyatt’s special skill, born from his love of politics, was his ability to smoke out political corruption. That ability had made him rich. In his nearly twenty years of acquiring land, minerals, and timber, he never once fell prey to unscrupulous or illegal practices to build his wealth. He didn’t have to. He thrived by outwitting the corrupt.

  Charlie and Arthur had never been to the ranch. Both men marveled at his state of the art telegraph system. It was Wyatt’s joy, his lifeline to the world. “So this is what you do with all that money I save you, helping you ferret out the crooks,” Tom said with a grin.

  “Yeah, as you know, Tom, this is the heart of the business.” Turning to Arthur and Charlie he said, “I put this telegraph system in ten years ago. It’s the only one of its kind outside of the major cities in the East and West. I do eighty to ninety percent of my acquisitions by telegraph. Tom can tell you, it is the primary way we communicate. Sometimes three or four times a day. Hell, in the last year I bought horses from Australia, mining equipment from China, and made all my financial investments by telegraph.”

  Joey, Chief, and Alono joined them, all gratefully accepting a glass of whiskey from Wyatt. Each of the visitors congratulated Joey on the match between Lei and Sang Fe.

  “Christ, Joey, I have never seen anything like that. She was breathtaking,” said Tom. “Is that the usual outcome when she fights?”

  Joey smiled, “Except for Wyatt, she is unbeatable. She is the only female kung fu master in the country – might even be the world. We aren’t training women openly now, so we can’t confirm her status. Suffice it to say, that you watched one of the world’s true masters fight today. Remember Sang Fe, her opponent, will leave here in a week with a master rank. He is one of our most accomplished fighters. His problem today was that he was fighting Lei. The only fighter I’ve worked with who is more exciting to watch is this guy here,” he said, nodding to Wyatt.

  At that moment, Lei entered. Tom was confounded. It was impossible to believe that this was the same woman who brought a six foot Chinese warrior to his knees a few hours before. Her glossy black hair was swept up in a sophisticated woven twist. An unusual silver ornament, fashioned after a dragon, held it in place. Silky white pants skimmed her hips and glorious bottom. A soft draped top showed just enough of her full firm breasts to tantalize each of the men, who stole surreptitious glances throughout the evening. Lei had the regal bearing of a princess from an exotic land. Tom knew that is how she grew up. If you call the heavily guarded California compound of the leader of the fiercest Chinese Tong in the country an exotic land.

  Tom shook his head in wonder. “My God, Lei, you are one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. You look like you’ve stepped off the cover of French Vogue. What the hell are you doing in Wyoming? You would have the high society assholes at your feet in any city in the east.”

  “That’s why I am here, Tom. Among other reasons.” Lei smiled over his head at Wyatt.

  Wyatt returned her smile from half-closed eyes. He looked like a man who knew that every man in the room was lusting after his woman. God help any of them if they made a move toward her. But it was clear to Tom as to everyone else, there was only one man for Lei. That man was Wyatt. The sparks between them were electric. Everyone who met them felt it. Commented on it.

  Tom smiled ruefully. “You are one lucky son of a bitch, Wyatt. But then you know that, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, Tom, I do. Now that Lei is here, let’s have dinner. You all must be hungry.” He stepped over next to Lei and kissed her lightly on the cheek. He nudged his hand possessively against small of her back, and guided her to the dining room. The other men followed, happy to have an uninterrupted view of her beautiful bottom in those surprisingly revealing pants.

  ~~~

  The food was excellent. The wine flowed freely. But, it was no secret; everyone at the table knew they were there for a purpose.

  “Okay, folks, let’s hear it. Who do you recommend I endorse for governor?” Wyatt asked with a grin, turning the conversation to the topic on everyone’s minds. He knew that whoever received his endorsement would have the best chance to win. The problem was th
at the potential candidates were weak at best.

  Chief spoke up. “Poor Bernie has been dead for only three days. We haven’t even buried him yet. We’ve had, what Wyatt, four or five potential candidates, riding out to the ranch? Each one’s tried to convince Wyatt to support him.”

  “Let’s face it,” Charlie said, “it’s a mighty weak field. Under ordinary circumstances, that wouldn’t matter. Hell, Wyatt, you even got me elected. They don’t call you a kingmaker for nothing. The problem is that Grant Forrester has thrown his hat in the ring. That changes everything. That son of a bitch could actually win, especially against the current field of candidates.”

  Arthur spoke up. “I am concerned, Wyatt. You and I know Grant Forrester better than anyone here except Chief. He was crooked when he took over the territorial government in New Mexico. Not a damn thing has changed. The first thing he’d try to do if he became governor is take you down. The way you outsmarted that bunch of crooks fifteen years ago is the stuff of legends. What were you, twenty-three years old? I’ll never forget it. What did you end up with, just by seeing through their chicanery? Half of the Colorado River Basin?”

  Wyatt’s grin widened. “Yeah, that was a sweet deal, wasn’t it, Judge? What galls Grant and his corrupt political friends even more than the land I got is that they could have stopped me in my tracks. They just couldn’t see past the cocky Indian kid they thought I was. They underestimated me then and continue to do so. I have been on the winning end of deals with that bunch for the last fifteen years. They never seem to wise up. Of course, now Tom and I have set up so many holding companies that they never know it’s me on the other end, until it’s too late.”