Catching Kent

by Ruth Ann Nordin

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “I look forward to doing business with you,” Kent told his new client and shook his hand.

  After he saw his new client out of the office, he returned to his desk and assembled the file he had created. The meeting had proved to be far more fruitful than he thought possible. He put the file away then turned his attention to his logbook. Next month he was due to go to Kansas City to meet with a potential client. He thought Rose might like to go with him. Maybe they could take in an opera or symphony while there. With her desire to experience new things, he thought she’d enjoy them.

  The door opened and he looked up in time to see a boy enter his office. “Are you lost?” he asked, trying to figure out why someone about ten years old would be coming to see him.

  “Are you Mr. Kent Ashton?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was told to give this to you.”

  Surprised, he took the envelope from the boy. “Who sent you?”

  “I don’t know, sir. He gave me a nickel and told me to give it to you.”

  There was nothing written on the envelope. “What did this man look like?”

  The boy scrunched up his nose. “Skinny. Tall. Probably my brother’s age—twenty. He was driving a carriage.”

  He thought over all the people he’d met—even the men who had robbed him when he first arrived here—to pinpoint who sent the boy to him, but no one came to mind. He stared at the envelope, not wanting to open it but knowing if he didn’t, he’d never find out who wrote the letter inside it.

  With a sigh, he thanked the boy and waited until he left before opening it. This couldn’t be good. Anyone who had to hide his identity was dealing in shady business. And lucky for him, he happened to be the person’s target.

  Well, he wasn’t going to get anything resolved unless he opened the envelope. He ripped it open and unfolded the paper. Even before he read the words, he recognized his father’s handwriting. Gritting his teeth, he set the letter down and rubbed his eyes. How many years had it taken for him to forgive the man for the misery he had caused? How often had his uncle reminded him to stop looking to the past in case he missed out on his future? He had a future here in Omaha. A future with Rose. Sooner or later, he’d have a future with his children. And in one moment, the resentment and anger he’d felt the day his father sent him off to Ireland came rushing back to him.

  “Don’t let the past ruin your future,” he whispered.

  Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and read the letter. His grip tightened on the paper as soon as he read that his father had kidnapped Rose and wanted $5000 in order to get her back. He swore and slammed the letter on the desk.

  There were many questions running through his head. How did his father find him? Why did his father need the money? Where was his mother in all of this? Why wasn’t his father back in Virginia where he was supposed to be? How did his father find out about Rose? But the most pressing thing he had to deal with was getting his wife back.

  Collecting the letter, he stood up and grabbed his hat and coat then locked up his office before he headed to the sheriff’s. If his father thought he was going to give him $5000, he had another thing coming. His father hadn’t been satisfied with any amount of money he acquired in the past. He wouldn’t be satisfied with $5000. As soon as Kent gave him that, he’d want more. And what was Kent supposed to do? Keep giving him money for the rest of his life? If his father was willing to kidnap Rose, would he resort to kidnapping his children? There was no telling what the man would do.

  By the time he reached the jailhouse, he had most of his plan worked out. What he needed was for the sheriff to go along with him on it. And if Owen Russell was anything like Rose, he didn’t think that would be a problem. He opened the door and paused when he saw Jacob and Madeline talking to the sheriff.

  As soon as Madeline saw him, she bolted from her seat and peered around him. “Is Rose with you?”

  “No.” Noting her disappointment, he asked, “Did you get a letter, too?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “What is this about?” the sheriff asked, rising to his feet.

  “This.” Kent handed Owen the letter. “My wife’s been kidnapped.”

  “I knew it,” Jacob muttered. In a louder voice, he continued, “We saw a strange middle-aged man escort Rose out of the mercantile. I didn’t have a good feeling about him.”

  “I didn’t either,” Madeline agreed. “That’s why we came right over here.”

  Surprised they should report seeing her with an older man while the boy had talked to a young one, Kent focused on them. “What did he look like?”

  “Graying hair, long nose, a handlebar mustache, cleft in the chin…” Jacob paused.

  “Brown eyes,” Madeline added. “He wore a black hat and frock coat that looked a bit on the worn side. They left in a carriage that had seen better days, too. Back East, we’d say it was the mark of a person who once had money but doesn’t anymore.”

  “That’s my father.” His gaze went to Owen. “His name is James Ashton, and he sent me that letter.”

  “It’s not signed,” Owen replied, still holding it in his hand. “Are you sure it’s from him?”

  “I’d recognize the way he curves the letters ‘L’ and ‘C’ anywhere.”

  “Those are distinguishing characteristics in his handwriting,” he admitted then crossed his arms. “I can’t say I’ve ever had to deal with a kidnapper who wanted a ransom before.”

  “He’s desperate,” Kent said. “Usually, he befriends wealthy individuals and tries to wiggle a way into good business deals or financial advice, especially if there’s a promising stock he can buy. Resorting to kidnapping Rose means he’s exhausted all other options.” He released his breath and slipped his hands in his pockets. He didn’t know if it was supposed to be scary that he understood his father so well, but it scared him all the same. “I don’t have any intention of giving him the money, but I need to make sure we get Rose back. And safely.”

  “Oh, I agree. The last thing you do with an outlaw is give them what they want. It only makes them want to break the law again.”

  “Exactly. And kidnapping is a crime.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “One which will put him in jail.”

  Owen nodded.

  “Good because that’s where he needs to be.” Kent realized some bitterness crept into his voice, so he took a deep breath to calm down. The worst thing he could do was let his emotions override good judgment. “I can’t let him get away with this.”

  “He won’t. I promise.”

  Kent watched as Owen thanked Jacob and Madeline for their help and did likewise. After they left, Kent said, “I have an idea of how we can catch him. No doubt, he’s already figured out a way to escape once he gets his money.” And the last thing he wanted was for his father to escape.

  “We’ll get him, Kent. It’s just a matter of how. You said you have a plan. I’d like to hear it.”

  With a nod, Kent told him.

  ***

  Two hours later, Rose coughed in the dust of the abandoned small building that was in an older part of town. There was little light filtering in through the boarded window in the room, and she was tied to a chair so there was no chance of escape.

  Her kidnapper peeked between the two boards covering the window. Up to now, she hadn’t said anything. He had tipped the driver of the carriage and walked with her several blocks to where she was now. She had contemplated screaming for help, but he still had that gun pointed at her. She’d read enough books of people drawing attention to themselves while at gunpoint and they never ended well. Her best bet might be to talk to him. That worked in several stories.

  She cleared her throat and he glanced in her direction. Good. That was a start. “Who are you?” Might as well start with the easiest question.

  “Who I am is none of your concern.”

  Alright, so that didn’t go as well as she hoped, but
could she be surprised? She decided to try another question. “What are you going to do with me?”

  “Nothing. As long as your husband does what I tell him to.”

  “What do you want with him?”

  “That’s none of your concern.”

  She debated whether or not to point out that since she was married to Kent, it was her concern, but she decided against it. The worst thing she could do was anger him. The stories where the kidnapper was angered didn’t end well either. After a moment, she ventured, “Will you let me go?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Then when?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you mean that you might keep me for hours? Days? Weeks? What if I get hungry? What if I have to…you know?” She couldn’t bring herself to mention the privy.

  He let out a long sigh. “I’m not keeping you for long. You needn’t worry about getting hungry or seeing to more personal matters.”

  Well, that was good. A relief, really. “Then whatever business you have with my husband, it’ll be quick?”

  “It can be. I suppose that depends on how much he loves you.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “What a silly thing to say. Of course, he loves me. He married me.”

  He snorted. “Just like he loved other ladies in his past? You’re not the first one he wanted to marry. At one time, he had wanted to marry Wilma Harding in New York and Ann Statesman in Virginia. In fact, he traveled all the way from Virginia to North Dakota for Ann. Except she was already married to someone else. Though,” he smirked, “it didn’t stop him from trying to run off with her. Did he tell you about that one?”

  She held his gaze, not sure what he hoped to gain from telling her about Ann but chose to tell him the truth. “Yes, he did.”

  A flicker of disappointment crossed his face, and she experienced a mild sense of satisfaction in knowing she didn’t give him the reaction he wanted.

  “Shamefully,” he continued, “he often chooses those without any financial means. I don’t suppose you supplied any money to the marriage, not with all those beans and corn your father grows on his farm.”

  She drew in a sharp breath. “How do you know so much about me?”

  He turned back to the window, blatantly ignoring her. It took her a moment before she could breathe again. Knowing someone had been watching her and her family, learning everything he could about them… She shivered. And how long had he been watching? Why had he been watching? “That driver,” she began, “is he coming back?”

  “You think I’d be so careless as to let anyone know where you are? My dear girl, I hired that driver to take us to the post office. From there, I took you here. No one knows where you are. When I get what I came for, I’ll let you go.” He took out his pocket watch. “As much as I’ve enjoyed our conversation,” he rolled his eyes, “it’s time for me to go.”

  “Where are you going?”

  Walking over to her, he pulled a piece of cloth from his pocket. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” Before she could protest, he tied the cloth around her mouth. “Soon we’ll know whether or not your husband loves you enough to part with his money. What do you think, Rose? Are you worth $5000?”

  He patted her on the shoulder and left. She knew it would be pointless to try to get out of the chair, so she remained still. Money? He had kidnapped her for a ransom? She had only read one story where something like that ever happened. And that story had a sad ending.

  But Kent would come for her. He was very smart. One way or another, he’d come to her rescue. The only thing she could do was wait.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Kent spent almost an entire hour crouched behind a bush at the park, waiting for the moment his father said he’d arrive. His father instructed him to leave the money in a carpetbag under the bench near the water fountain, and while his father expected him to go back to his office and wait for Rose, he had other plans. His days of doing his father’s bidding were over. And after today, he’d never have to deal with his father again. Enough was enough. This was the day he’d finally be free of the past.

  He shifted behind the bush and wrapped his coat closer around him. The sun had gone down and the bitter chill in the air was an acute reminder that Thanksgiving Day was close at hand.

  When his father finally arrived, he watched him as he went to the bench and checked under it. As he bent to retrieve the carpetbag, Kent rose to his feet. Ignoring the stiffness in his legs, he proceeded forward, mindful to keep his steps silent while his father opened the bag and checked the money in it.

  “I believe you’ll find everything there,” he said.

  His father jerked and spun around.

  Kent examined him in the moonlight. His father hadn’t changed much in the six years since he last saw him. His clothes didn’t look as polished and his hair was graying, but other than that, he had the same way of scowling when he looked at him. That scowl used to intimidate him. It was nice to know it no longer had such an effect. It was proof that his uncle had been right when he promised him that the day would come when his father’s attempt to control him wouldn’t work anymore. Straightening his shoulders, Kent remained silent, his gaze holding his father’s.

  After a long moment passed between them, his father cleared his throat. “My instructions were clear. You were supposed to wait at the office for your wife.”

  “Well, you were never one to play by the rules, so why should I?”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “Does that mean the money isn’t real?”

  “Oh, it’s real. And it’s all right there.” While his father inspected the money in the bag, he asked, “Where’s Mother? Back at home nursing another one of her headaches because you’ve managed to squander your fortune again?”

  He closed the bag. “Your mother committed suicide a year ago. Had you been thoughtful enough to send some money, you might have spared her life.”

  Gritting his teeth, Kent refused to take responsibility for what his mother did. The bottom line was his father was bankrupt. Once again. And unlike last time, he had no son to marry off to the daughter of a wealthy man to make a quick fortune.

  Kent crossed his arms and glared at him. “I’m surprised you thought I had so little that you’d ask for only $5000. I could have easily paid $10,000 without missing anything.”

  As he thought, a flicker of desire for more money flashed in his father’s eyes. “Then life has been good to you.”

  “No, life wasn’t good to me. Life gave me you as a father, and you did everything you could to dictate what I did and who I did it with. It wasn’t life that has been good to me. It’s what I did with my life—it was the choices I made—that’s paid off.”

  “Choices? Don’t be so foolish. It was nothing you did. That uncle of yours lied to me. He had a mass of wealth but made me think he was a tenant farmer. Had I not put you on that ship that took you to him, you’d have nothing.”

  “That wasn’t what I meant by choices. I made the decision to put the past behind me and move on. You think being rich makes people happy, but I’ve been with a family who has just enough to get by and they are the happiest people I’ve ever met. You know why? Because they love each other. They’re content with what they have. They help other people without expecting anything in return.”

  “You speak of your wife’s family? The Larsons?”

  His jaw clenched. “I see you’ve been following me for quite some time.”

  “You know that I take time to learn everything I can about people.”

  “Indeed you do.”

  “I won’t be telling you where your wife is. You’ll have to go back to your office if you want to see her again.”

  He wasn’t surprised that his father said that. His father’s plan was probably to release her and run out of town. “I don’t think so.” Kent glanced at the gazebo where Owen had been waiting for his signal. He nodded in his direction then looked back at his father. “You’ll tell me wh
ere my wife is right now.”

  “Don’t make me pull out my gun,” his father warned. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “After all the things you’ve done, I think it’s a little too late to avoid hurting me.”

  Owen came up behind his father. His father spun around, but Owen had his gun pointed at him. “You’re not going anywhere, Mr. Ashton.”

  “You see, Father,” Kent began, “the problem is that you no longer get to make the rules. It ends here. You’re not leaving with my money, and you’re going to tell me where Rose is.”

  His father turned to hurry off with the carpetbag, but Owen intercepted him. He made a move to go in another direction but a deputy stood in his way. Kent quickly stepped forward to ensure that his father was trapped. His father glanced from one man to the other, clutching the bag to his chest.

  “Did you really think I’d be stupid enough to let you run off with my money?” Kent asked.

  His father moved his mouth but no words came out.

  Kent shook his head. His father had gotten desperate and in his desperation, he hadn’t thought through everything that could happen.

  Kent took the bag from his father. “I’m sorry it had to be this way, but I can’t let you do this anymore. Not to me. Not to Rose. Not to anyone. You’re going to jail.”

  “Where is Kent’s wife?” Owen asked him.

  His father let out a long sigh then told them.

  Relieved, Kent thanked Owen for his help then watched as Owen led his father to the jailhouse. His uncle used to tell him that everyone had their choices to make, and they were responsible for the consequences of those choices, whether good or bad. And his uncle was right.

  But seeing his father face to face, he realized he no longer felt angry. Instead, he felt sorry for him. All the opportunities he had, he squandered. There was so much he could have done, so much potential he had to do something great with his life. But he wasted all the chances he got. What a sad legacy to leave behind. Well, Kent vowed he would leave a good legacy for his children. He’d be a man like Dave Larson, a man they could respect.