“Now hold on there just a minute, Mister Daragh,” Brixton said, placing the money in his coat pocket. He motioned through the window for his companions to join him. “I figure since I’m the one holding the gun and the hostages, that maybe I should be the one that takes over these here negotiations. What do you think?”
The two Indians came through the door, their guns pointed at the backs of Marcelle and Peter.
“Matthew!” Marcelle breathed in relief and flung herself into Matthew’s arms. Peter joined them and patted Matthew on the back.
“It’s good to see you son,” he said, “Although I’m sorry that you ended up being a part of this mess.”
“If it wasn’t for me, none of us would be in this sorry mess to begin with,” Matthew said bitterly.
“The blame isn’t yours, Matthew,” Marcelle said. “If it wasn’t this, then it would have been something else. I don’t think your brother is a sane man,” she whispered.
“Are you okay,” he asked, gently raising her face and scanning the bruise that was already forming along the line of her jaw.
“I’m fine,” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. “At least I didn’t make things easy for him.”
“I love you,” Matthew said, and pulled her back into his embrace. “If anything happens,” he said after a moment, “you two hit the floor and stay there, okay?” He whispered while Brixton and Mark argued. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll shoot each other.”
“You can’t do this, Brixton,” Mark whined louder, drawing Matthew’s attention back to the disagreement. “I paid good money for your services.”
“You did at that,” Brixton grinned, signaling for the Indians to take hold of Marcelle and Peter once again, “but I figured there’s got to be a hell of a lot more where that come from, so . . . would you mind keeping it down a mite bit, ma’am. I wouldn’t want to shoot you before the negotiations were finished.”
Marcelle stopped protesting and calmly moved to the other side of the room with her father.
“Thank you,” Brixton said politely, then turned his attention back to Mark and Matthew. “Now, as I was saying. I figure those two bodies over there are a sight more valuable than just a measly hundred fifteen dollars. And since each of you have your own reasons for wanting them: you want ‘em as leverage over your brother,” he said, pointing his rifle at Mark, “and you just plain want ‘em,” he continued, turning the barrel toward Matthew, “then I figure we’ll have ourselves an auction to see who bids highest for their return.”
“This is crazy!” Mark yelled. “I’ve already paid you good money, now keep the muzzle of that rifle aimed at my brother and make him sign these blasted papers.”
“Actually, Mr. Brixton,” Matthew said calmly, feeling a modicum of control return to his corner. He had to raise his voice a bit to be heard over his brother’s continued protestations, but if he could sway things in his favor, then he’d yell the roof down, “That money my brother paid you is all he has. If you’ll look at those documents lying on the desk, you’ll see that I’m telling you the plain truth of the matter. That’s why he wanted me here so desperately. He wanted to force me to sign a document handing control of my fortune over to him. He’s also wanted for rape, murder, and attempted murder by the sheriff in New York City, so if you have a mind to take him into custody, there’s likely to be a generous bounty on his head.”
“Now, see here!” Mark yelled louder, snatching the papers away before Brixton could scan them any closer.
“Well, that seemed like a mighty suspicious action, there, Mr. Daragh. Kind of adds credence to what your brother was saying about you being penniless, and if that be the case, then I’d say these here negotiations are over,” Brixton said. He laid his rifle aside with a command to one of the Indians to keep his rifle trained on Matthew, then removed a coil of rope from his belt and moved toward Mark.
No one saw the gun until a loud report sounded, reverberating off the wooden walls, startling the occupants. It only took one shot and then the sound of gunfire erupted from seemingly every corner of the small room.
“Marcelle! Peter! Get down!” Matthew yelled above the din, then dropped to a prone position for the second time that evening.
CHAPTER FORTY
The shooting was over almost as quickly as it had begun. Matthew raised his head shortly after the noise died down. His ears were ringing, but to him that was a good sign – it meant that he was alive. He peered through the smoke as he shoved himself to his knees.
“Marcelle? Peter?” He whispered loudly.
“Over here, Matthew,” a voice said.
Matthew stood and studied the scene around him. There was a hole in the center of Brixton’s chest, and Matthew could tell from the sightless eyes staring at the ceiling that he’d met his demise. From the position in which the body fell, it was evident that the shot had come from Mark, but Matthew was confused as to where he got the gun, and when he learned to shoot. Sure Brixton was close enough to hit without too much difficulty, but the bullet had gone directly though the heart. That was a difficult shot to make drawing from the hip, even for a marksman – close range or not – and his brother had been a terrible shot, at best, so how had he managed? Lucky shot? He’d also managed to take out one of Brixton’s Indian friends as well. Strange, indeed.
He peered over the desk at his brother’s body – clothes and skin shredded by shotgun holes. Well, expert shot or not, it hadn’t prevented his own death. His last ditch effort to regain control of a bad situation turned worse, had been the end of him. He wanted to feel pity for his brother, but he couldn’t summon up any grief. The only grief he felt was for his mother’s sadness when he told her that her youngest son had died a violent death brought about by his own machinations.
He looked over to where Marcelle and Peter sat huddled against the wall, apparently waiting for him to give them the all clear, when it dawned on him that he didn’t see the third Indian’s body. He pulled his Colt and immediately bent into a crouching position.
“He ran off,” Peter whispered, and Matthew relaxed his stance. Matthew stood and re-holstered his weapon. In two long strides, he reached Marcelle’s side, pulled her to her feet and straight into his embrace.
“Pardon my behavior, sir,” he said to Peter as way of apology, and then planted a kiss firmly on Marcelle’s lips. Peter stood off to one side and smiled for the first time since Mark had abducted them.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in all my life,” Marcelle whispered, when Matthew finally allowed her to come up for air.
“Me either, darling. Me either,” Matthew whispered, holding her tight. “Are you okay, Peter?” Matthew asked, looking at Weatherman’s pale visage from above Marcelle’s head.
“I was doing rather poorly, but now that I know we’re going to survive this awful ordeal, I think I’ll make a full recovery,” Weatherman replied. “Can I ask how in heaven’s name you knew about all this?”
“You can thank Nancy for that, God bless her,” Matthew said. “She saw what happened and spent every penny she had sending out telegrams to locate me. As soon as I got word, I rented a horse to come straight home,” Matthew answered, leading them outside into the fresh morning air. “As soon as I arrived at the house, Brixton was waiting with instructions from Mark.”
“No offense, Matthew,” Peter muttered, “but your brother deserves to rot in hell for the danger he put my baby girl in. If not for your timely intervention . . . ,”
“I didn’t really do anything, Peter,” Matthew interrupted, leading them down the street toward the gates. “If you recall, I had a gun to my head, which kept me pretty much incapacitated. If they hadn’t decided to do away with each other . . . well, let’s just be thankful we don’t have to know what would have happened had things played out differently.”
The sound of horses’ hooves ended the conversation. Matthew grabbed hold of Marcelle’s arm and pulled her into the shadow of a nearby building, his
Colt drawn and ready. He looked over his shoulder to make certain that Peter was following, then positioned himself with his gun trained on the open gate.
Whomever it was charging in their direction, he wasn’t about to let them get their hands on Marcelle. As long as he lived, no one would ever cause her harm again.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
The tension mounted among the wary as they watched six riders gallop at full speed over the distant rise and head straight toward them down the main street of the abandoned fort.
“It’s the sheriff!” Marcelle said and sidled past Matthew, running into the street to flag down the riders. The Sheriff pulled his mount to a skidded halt and dismounted, followed by five of the local townsmen.
“You folks okay?” The sheriff asked, approaching swiftly.
“Everything would have been a sight bit better, had you listened to Nancy in the first place and taken care of this ordeal immediately,” Matthew snapped, moving to stand beside Marcelle. “Instead, you wrote off her account as the ravings of a hysterical female.”
“Now, calm down, son,” the sheriff soothed. “We came right away when Miss Nancy ran into the office with your note telling us where you’d gone.”
“Yeah, well, this is a classic case of offering too little help, too late. The bodies are down the road apiece,” Matthew said, nodding his head toward the building at the end of the road.
“You kill ‘em?” The sheriff asked, placing his hand on his handcuffs in preparation of taking Matthew into custody.
“They shot each other, Sheriff. Not that I wouldn’t have, given the opportunity,” Matthew glared at the sheriff and then placed his arm around Marcelle’s shoulders. “You don’t happen to have an extra mount so that we can get home, do you?” He asked, and could tell by the color that seeped into the sheriff’s cheeks that he hadn’t thought about that. “Didn’t think so.”
“You can double up with us,” the sheriff offered, but Matthew didn’t like the idea of Marcelle riding behind anyone.
“Your horses are tired, Sheriff. They’ve had a long, hard ride and it wouldn’t be right to subject them to another long hard ride with twice the weight on their back. Peter,” Matthew said, turning to face the old man, “we’ll take a look around, and see if we can locate Mark’s horse or maybe Brixton’s. They rode in here, and since they won’t be riding out, I don’t think they’ll mind if we borrow their steeds.”
“Ed Brixton?” The sheriff said, his eyes widening in surprise.
“That’s right, Sheriff. I hired him to help me in case things got out of hand, but what I didn’t count on was that my brother had paid him more, so the little weasel double-crossed me. In the end, he attempted to double-cross us both so my brother shot him.”
“Sure it weren’t you that killed him?”
“My Colt 45 would have put a heck of a bigger hole in his chest than the one that’s there, Sheriff, but as I said, the thought of shooting him and my brother did cross my mind. Seeing as how a man can’t be arrested for thinking about killing, we’ll just try to locate some horses and be on our way.”
“The reward is yours, if you want it,” the sheriff said suddenly, bringing Matthew to a standstill. “Not that I reckon you need it, but I peaked your curiosity, didn’t I?”
“I take it Brixton was a wanted man,” Matthew stated matter-of-factly.
“In nearly every county in Wisconsin. That was one dangerous critter you and your brother attached yourselves to.”
“What was he wanted for?”
“Murder,” the sheriff said. “About a hundred times over. Seems he doesn’t take kindly to losing at cards, so he kills those that beat him. Wasn’t able to kill all of ‘em, so there were quite a few men, other than the law, that was after his no good hide. Jesse James for one was heard sniffing after him not too long ago. Maybe would have gotten him, if he hadn’t dies his self a few months past.”
“The Jesse James?” Marcelle asked.
“Yes, Ma’am,” the sheriff laughed. “I reckon now that Brixton’s dead, though, the reward’s got to go to somebody, and since you happen to be kin to the man who shot him,” he continued, addressing Matthew again, “then you’re welcome to it.”
“I don’t really claim much as far as relation to that man back there, but seeing as how Nancy spent her savings to locate and notify me of what was happening, it seems only fair that I take that money and give it to her. You going to be at your office any time soon?
“I’ll be heading out shortly. I just need to get these men started on cleaning up the mess down there.”
Matthew nodded, “Then I’ll wait for you at your office before heading back to the ranch.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and started back down the lane with Marcelle on his arm. Peter appeared at the end of the thoroughfare – horseless.
“Couldn’t find ‘em?” Matthew asked.
“Nope. The Indian must have taken them with him when he bolted.”
“Damn!” Matthew muttered. “That means he may have spotted my horse and taken it too.”
“Problem, Mr. Daragh?” The sheriff asked, riding up to them.
“Did you happen to see a horse on the other side of that rise?” Matthew asked, but didn’t hold out any hope.
“Can’t say that I did.”
“Damn!” Matthew muttered again. “Sorry sweetheart,” he said, placing a light kiss on the top of Marcelle’s head. “I know I shouldn’t be swearing, but it appears that we haven’t any mounts.”
“I think I might be able to help in that department after all,” the sheriff smiled, “and it’s the least I can do after not heeding Miss Nancy, putting you folks in a world of danger.”
“You don’t have additional mounts, as I recall, Sheriff,” Peter said.
“Not here I don’t,” the sheriff said, “but my brother lives about a half-hour’s ride west of here. I’ll be happy to ride over and bring back some mounts for you. He isn’t going to let them go unless he’s paid something.”
“Brixton has one-hundred-fifteen dollars in coin on his person. That should cover two mounts, don’t you think?” Matthew offered.
“Don’t need three?” The sheriff asked, a twinkle in his eye.
“Nope.”
The sheriff laughed. “I’ll go let the men know what’s going on and be back soon with those mounts.”
When the sheriff turned and rode away, Matthew drew Marcelle closer to his side and kissed her forehead, “Think we can finish the conversation we started before I left, once we get back to the house?” He smiled at the blush that stole into her cheeks.
“As I recall, there wasn’t that much talking going on,” Marcelle grinned, “Ah! The man blushes!”
“Enough teasing, you little devil!” Matthew scowled and slapped her bottom-end gently.
“She’s a handful, Matthew,” Peter said, laughing softly at their antics. “You sure you want to put up with that for the rest of your life?”
“I’m looking forward to it. If she’ll have me,” Matthew said, looking at Marcelle expectantly.
“Well, what the bloody hell took you so long to ask?” Marcelle said, landing a solid punch to Matthew’s upper arm.
“Well, I’ll be,” Matthew smiled, rubbing his arm. “Mom was right.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“They’re coming,” Nancy yelled, running across the yard and bursting into the house. “They’re coming! Matthew’s brought ‘em home!”
“Oh, thank God above,” Lilith said, closing her eyes briefly against the onslaught of relief that flooded through her body. “Come, let’s go greet them everyone!”
Matthew stopped his horse at the end of the drive atop a small knoll, and looked down in astonishment at the sight that met his eyes.
“What is it, Matthew?” Marcelle asked, following his gaze. “Well, I’ll be!” She exclaimed.
“What’s got you two so flustered?” Peter asked, pulling his mount alongside his daughter. “Well, I’ll be!”
/> “That’s what she said,” Matthew grinned.
“I didn’t know we were so well liked,” Peter laughed, looking at the stream of people exiting his small home. “How in blue blazes did all those people get in my house, is what I want to know, and where in tarnation did they all come from?”
“What did Nancy do, put an ad in the newspaper, explaining our plight?”
“Word travels fast ‘round these parts, remember?” Peter said. “Well, however they found out, it’s nice to know that so many people care about what happens to us, doesn’t it?”
“Or what happens to their future horse stock, or haven’t you noticed yet that a majority of them people down there are our clients,” Matthew laughed.
“And a bunch more seem to be Stanharbor’s,” Peter said in surprise. “Wonder if they’re interested in switching purchasers.”
“Well, since Clifford is moving to New York soon, it’ll be a sure bet that they’ll be in the market.”
“Clifford’s moving?” Marcelle asked in astonishment. “When did all this happen?”
“After his trip to New York,” Matthew said and laughed at the continued surprise that adhered to their faces.
“Clifford was in New York?” Peter asked.
“I’ll explain as soon as everything settles down, fair enough?” Matthew laughed.
“Deal,” Peter laughed.
“Let’s just hope that those people down there are willing to part with a bit more of their money. Our mounts are not going to sell cheaply, because they won’t be cheap mounts. Isn’t that right, dear heart?”
“That’s right, darling.”
“I’ll break the jump in price to them another time. Right now, what’s say we go celebrate our homecoming.” With a whoop and a holler, Peter dug his heels into his horse’s haunches and started toward the crowd, waving his hat in the air and shouting ‘whoopee’.
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