Fate's Intervention

by Barbara Woster

  “Its ten dollars for each man,” Matthew assured.

  “Hot damn! Now, what exactly are we going to be doing for that money?”

  “Like I said, back up,” Matthew said. “We’ll leave at noon tomorrow. Be ready.”

  “Why not now?” Brixton said.

  “First of all, you need to find men, and second of all – it’s all in the timing. See you here at noon tomorrow,” Matthew said then turned and strode toward the house.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Matthew deliberately kept the stallion at a canter, occasionally scanning the horizon to ensure that no was following besides his men. He could see no one, including the men he hired. He could only hope those men were close by. If Ed Brixton was true to his word, he knew a couple of Indians that would be willing to help a white man for the right price; however, Matthew hadn’t been able to stick around and meet them. Now he only had Ed Brixton’s word that he and two other men were out there, following unseen to act as his backup.

  A bright light suddenly appeared from seemingly nowhere and temporarily blinded him. He pulled the horse to a stop and scanned the tree line. A movement in his periphery caught his attention and he snapped his head around quickly, his hand on the butt of his Colt 45.

  Three men on horseback nosed their way into the clearing and sat there, watching Matthew. Matthew removed his revolver and cocked the hammer. Then, unexpectedly, the man in the middle removed his hat and waved it in the air. Ed Brixton’s flaming red hair was evident in the bright sunlight.

  Matthew relaxed and re-holstered his weapon. His took his hat off and returned the salutation, breathing an audible sigh of relief. He had enough to deal with at the moment without adding bandits or renegades to the list, so he was relieved to see Brixton. Apparently, Brixton had been true to his word about locating additional help. When he looked back a moment later, the three riders were gone, vanishing into the denseness of the surrounding woods. If they could vanish that easily, he thought, then his brother shouldn’t be able to spot them either. As it was his intention of arriving after dark, it shouldn’t be easy to see them anyway.

  He clicked his tongue and flicked the reins, sending the stallion into a canter again. If his estimation were correct, he’d reach his destination after nightfall, which should give him ample time to meet up with his backup without Mark seeing him, and to scout the area under cover of darkness. That’s why he’d forced himself to wait until noon before departing. It was also why he kept a tight rein on his horse’s speed. If common sense hadn’t prevailed, he would have left at first light and run the poor animal into the ground at a full gallop. He would also have arrived at the abandoned fort by now as well, and been fully exposed to his brother’s wrath in the daylight hours. An easy target wasn’t what he had in mind.

  No! As eager as he was to reach Marcelle’s side, it would do no good for him to go off half-cocked and get them both killed. He really believed that cooler heads prevailed, even if he’d never had an easy time following that dictate. He was determined to do so this time. He only hoped that his brother’s temper had been given ample time to cool and then he’d be able to reason with him. If not, Marcelle and Peter could be in a world of trouble – if they were still alive.

  He mentally shook himself. He couldn’t think that way. He had to believe that his brother was only using them as a means to an end – possibly his end – or simply to regain hold of Daragh Steel and its fortune. That was the most likely scenario. The sun sank lower on the horizon and finally disappeared from view, throwing the green landscape into a world of shadowy grays. The moon rose higher, taking its turn at watch, lighting the way for the remainder of his trip.

  The flat landscape sloped noticeably upward, so Matthew pulled back on the reins and dismounted. If Brixton was right, the fort lay over this rise and if that was the case, he didn’t want to make an easy target for anyone keeping watch on the other side. A mounted man made an easy target – dark night or not.

  His senses on full alert, he dropped the reins, allowing the horse the freedom to feed at his leisure, then crept up the embankment on hands and knees. As the top came into view, he dropped to his belly and scooted the remaining distance. He peered into the valley below. The remains of a fort lay snuggled a few hundred yards away. A once proud structure, the clay walls had crumbled to less than half the former height and the wood buildings showed signs of decay from years of neglect. The only part that still stood proud was the enormous oak gates that stood open, allowing entry to the only street, which ran down the center, dilapidated buildings on either side.

  From his vantage point, he could see the flickering light of a candle in one of the windows near the far side of the crumbling compound. One of the few buildings that appeared to have its roof intact still. Which is probably why Mark chose it, he thought. He wondered whether Marcelle and Peter were there, or whether that was his brother’s location. He was betting on the latter.

  “What do you want from us?” A voice asked from his right, startling him. He reached instinctively for his Colt until he realized that it was only Brixton.

  “Where did you come from?” Matthew asked lamely, looking at the two other men lying beside Ed.

  “I thought you invited us to this little party,” Ed said softly, a grin on his face.

  “Yeah, but I didn’t realize you were so close by that you could get here that fast.”

  “You been sitting here for quite a while, Mister, or didn’t you know that?”

  “No, I guess I hadn’t realized that,” Matthew said.

  “Well, what is it you need?” Brixton asked again.

  “Do you see that light in the distance?” Matthew asked, pointing toward the end of the fort.

  “Yeah, I see it.”

  “I think that’s where my brother is,” Matthew said, keeping his voice at a whisper.

  “Want us to go in there and take him out?” Brixton asked, his voice so serious that Matthew raised an eyebrow in question, the hairs on the back of his neck standing upright. When Brixton was standing in the yard with a gun pointed at his belly, he looked as if he’d faint dead away at any moment, now he was asking Matthew if he wanted him to kill a man, without even batting an eyelash. Apparently, from his demeanor, he wasn’t aware of the slip – or was it a slip? Could he really be that unusual to where the sight of a gun aimed at him turned him to mush, but killing a man with a gun had no effect on him?

  Matthew wondered if he were playing games and, if so, why? Unfortunately, he didn’t have the luxury of time in order to discover those answers, and as long as Brixton was on his side, he didn’t need to take the time to contemplate it.

  “As tempting as that sounds, no, I don’t want you to go in and take him out,” Matthew said. “Here’s what I do want you to do.”

  Matthew laid out his plan and waited for Brixton to translate for the two Indians.

  “What if he’s got them in there with him?”

  “No. He will have them stashed away where I’ll have to meet whatever demands he has for me to go get them. That will give him time to get away.”

  “No offense, Mister, but your brother sounds like one mean and crazy son-of-a-bitch.”

  “He is at that,” Matthew agreed. “Now remember. Stay low and keep quiet. We don’t know where he’s keeping them, so the last thing I need is for him to discover I’ve brought reinforcements, which could set him off on a killing spree. Wouldn’t want to see you and your friends minus a head, either.”

  “Couldn’t say as that would make my day.” Brixton turned to the two Indians and repeated what Matthew had said. They nodded and slithered into the darkness, Brixton right behind them. After another moment, all three literally vanished from sight.

  “Man, they’re good!” Matthew said, then pushed himself up from his prone position and started down the embankment towards the front of the fort – praying the entire way.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Matthew slid down the embankment and
ran crouched low toward the gate, half-expecting at any moment to have his body riddled with bullets. That didn’t happen, of course. He seriously doubted that his brother was even aware he was there. Still, he wasn’t about to take any chances that his brother hired men to watch for his arrival.

  He ducked behind the open gate and peered inside. Nothing! With a sigh of relief, he scooted around the gate and ran toward the side of the first building, careful to stay out of sight as much as possible. Still, nothing.

  Perhaps his brother hadn’t hired anyone to watch for him after all, he thought. Otherwise, he was certain that those hired men would have intercepted him by now.

  It didn’t matter either way. He wasn’t taking any chances. He stayed low, using the buildings for cover, stopping every now and again to listen for – anything. Still, nothing.

  As he approached the candle-lit building, he slowed his pace and, as quietly as he could manage, leapt up onto the decaying boardwalk. He froze as the board beneath his feet groaned and creaked. He tilted his head, straining to hear if the noise had alerted anyone. Crickets. All he heard were crickets. He breathed another sigh of relief and moved on toward the window, careful to step as lightly as his large frame allowed.

  He reached the window and peered through the broken pane. Just as he suspected. His brother had not anticipated his arrival at this time. Mark sat at an old desk, his feet propped up, his eyes closed, and his mouth wide open. Matthew could hear the resonating snore from his position outside.

  He crouched low and slid past the window toward the front door. He grabbed hold of the knob, turned it, and pushed it open, wincing as the rusty hinges squealed loudly in protest.

  “What the . . . ,” Mark muttered, noticing the open door. He came suddenly alert and pulled his revolver, shooting wildly at every shadow that danced by the light of the flickering candle.

  Matthew flattened himself against the floor, covering his head as pieces of debris rained down on him. Only when he heard the click of an empty chamber, did he dare to lift his head.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Matthew yelled above the roar in his ears. “You could’ve shot and killed me!”

  “Well, well, look who’s turned up,” Mark sneered, settling back into the chair. “It’s too bad I’m such a lousy shot, or you would be dead.”

  “Yeah, good thing for me,” Matthew said. He stood and wiped the front of his clothes off, then moved further into the room. He spotted an empty chair sitting in a corner and pulled it over. His first instinct was to pull his own Colt, press it against his brother’s fool head, and blow his brains out – after he gave up Marcelle and Peter – but he remembered how stubborn his brother could be. Mark was like a mule – the harder you pushed, the more he resisted, so Matthew took deep calming breaths and reminded himself that everything would be over soon. He hoped.

  “I’m here, just like you ordered,” Matthew said. “Now where are Marcelle and her father?”

  “Around,” Mark answered vaguely as he reached into his coat pocket and retrieved some papers. “I have to admit, I expected you to arrive a lot sooner than this. Thought you cared a hell of a lot more for your woman’s well-being. Guess I had your feelings for the twit figured all wrong.”

  “You knew I wasn’t scheduled to get back to Wisconsin until Thursday. Told you that myself, so it shouldn’t surprise you that I didn’t show before now. Besides, couldn’t do anything until your message was delivered, right?” Matthew said. Something about his brother’s visage told him that Mark knew about his early return and that he’d received the message soon enough to have arrived long before now. That sent a shiver of apprehension racing along his spine. Mark was too cocky, by far, especially for someone who was sitting across from a man with a loaded Colt on his hip, when his own revolver now lay empty on the desk. Something was definitely cockeyed about the whole thing. Before Matthew could dwell further on it, his brother was speaking again.

  “I took the liberty of composing some documents while I was waiting for you to get here. I know that an attorney didn’t formalize these, but they should hold up in any court of law. Sign ‘em and I’ll return your woman, and her father.” Mark slid the papers across the desk, but Matthew just sat and stared at him, refusing to pick them up and look at them.

  “I can’t undo the sale of the company, Mark,” Matthew said. “The board owns Daragh Steel and there isn’t anything either of us can do about it. Besides, do you think you’d really be able to return to New York and your old way of life with the law breathing down your neck?”

  “Ah, yes,” Mark said, leaning back in his chair. “Mother did tell me that you’d sworn out a warrant for my arrest. Rather foolish of you, big brother. I’d forgotten that little tidbit momentarily, but if you’re wondering why I’m not behaving overly concerned, it’s not my intention to return to New York.”

  “So you’re going to abandon Elizabeth, is that it? She’s the one with control over your funds right now, so what are you going to do about her?”

  “Nasty little affair that,” Mark said, “and again I have you to thank for it. All I wanted was to have a bit of sport with an eager partner, but you had to go and interfere and bring her daddy into it. Well, I’m sure I won’t be missed in her bed, and while the monetary aspect is a bit of a loss, I think our agreement will more than suffice to make up for it. You know that you are to blame for quite a bit of my current state of difficulty. In fact, after all you’ve put me through these past weeks, I’d say you’re getting off rather easy. I really should devise a way to make you pay, but I have a train to catch soon and don’t need you delaying me, so if you’ll be so kind as to sign the papers, I’ll give you the location of your loved ones and be on my way. Don’t read them if you don’t want to. It’s simple enough. Everything you inherited will be turned over to me, starting with authorization to access your bank account and withdraw all of the funds therewith.”

  “I’m not signing anything until I’ve seen Marcelle and her father, and I promise you this, Mark, if you have harmed one hair on their heads, I will blow your brains all over this little room.”

  “Don’t worry, Matthew,” Mark said, his hand moving below his belt in what appeared to be a protective gesture, “I value the family jewels too much to let that little hellcat get a hold of them. Lesson learned there,” Mark laughed shortly, without humor. “You should have seen the fight she put up when I finally managed to sneak in through the kitchen door. Told her we were going for a ride, but she didn’t want to come. Tsk. Tsk. Had to threaten to pistol whip her old man if she didn’t. Then he had to show up and I had to threaten to pistol whip her for him to come along meekly as well.” He turned his head so that Matthew could see the scratches lining the side of his face. “These are courtesy of her, by the way. I repaid that with a little gift of my own. It should take quite a while for the shiner on her jaw to disappear. Should have broken her nose like she tried to do mine, but I didn’t want you more mad at me than your expression tells me you are right now.”

  Matthew sat there staring at his brother incredulously. He was relating the details of his escapades as if he were at a social function, not like the madman Nancy described. Perhaps his calm stemmed from the secure knowledge that he’d bested his brother. Matthew wondered what changes would take place in his brother’s demeanor when he learned that he was the one bested.

  All Matthew needed to do was stall long enough for Brixton or the Indians to locate Marcelle and Peter and then he’d be able to deal with Mark as needed. His only concern was that Mark hid them outside the confines of the fort.

  No, they were here. He had to believe that his brother wasn’t smart enough to put them elsewhere, nor was he familiar enough with this state, or the terrain . . . the hair on the back of his neck jumped to life and the knot in his stomach tightened.

  “How did you know how to find this place?” Matthew asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “Very good, Brother,” Mark laughed, clapping his ha
nds childishly. “I was wondering how long it would take you to figure out that I have my own reinforcements. Some local talent, obviously. They are the ones who recommended this old fort. It’s not only isolated, in case things get messy, but there are all kinds of places to hide a body in which it would take quite some time to find,” Mark said, and then laughed again at the look of surprise on Matthew’s face. “I know, bad form. But you didn’t really think I’d be foolish enough to face you alone, did you?”

  The sound of a rifle hammer sounded in Matthew’s ear and he mentally berated himself for being so naive. What he didn’t count on when he turned his head was to see Ed Brixton’s grinning face.

  “Thanks for the extra ten dollars, Mister,” Ed laughed. “It sure will come in handy. Had you going there for a while, too, didn’t I?” He laughed, pretending to quake in his boots. “I should take up life on the stage. Sure had you fooled, sure ‘nough. Still can’t believe you paid me up front. Never,” he lectured, grinning, “ever pay a man until the job is done.”

  “I’ll remember that,” Matthew said sarcastically.

  “Ten dollars, eh?” Mark laughed. “He swindled you out of a pretty penny and he was working for me all along? Damn! That would make me feel a sight bit better if that ten dollars had been yours to give, but since you’re about to sign every dollar over to me, well, hell, that ten dollars could’ve bought me a fancy hotel room and a mighty-fine looking whore for a night’s pleasure. Think Marcelle will spread her legs for a few dollars?

  Matthew started to rise and bash his brother’s face in, but the gun in the back of his head reminded him of the dangers of being impulsive and he forced himself to calm down.

  “Shoot,” Mark continued, ignoring his brother’s apparently increasing rage, “I’m surprised he didn’t turn traitor and really help you out of this predicament for that ten dollars. Hell of a lot of money. It might be that he decided to stay loyal because I offered him an extra one hundred dollars if he delivered you promptly – and of course, as he’s better with a gun . . . ,” Mark reached into his coat pocket while he spoke and pulled out a pouch full of jingling coins and tossed it to Brixton. “It’s money well spent, wouldn’t you say? Now, back to business, shall we?”