Deanna Tompkins

by Blue Mountain Passion

  "Well, I guess you'd better give it to me then." Meagan held her hand out, waiting for him to place it in it. He just stood there. "What's wrong?"

  "I was figuring that maybe you'd want to pay me, too, for.."

  "Toby," Meagan threatened sternly, "give me the paper."

  "Aw, shucks, Meagan. A guy has to earn money somehow." When he realized he had no chance of squeezing more money from the deal, he shuffled over and placed the paper in her hand.

  "What does it say?"

  "Toby, that's none of your business."

  Meagan turned the sheet over and realized the seal had been broken. "Toby, did you read this?"

  "Nope."

  "Then why is it opened?"

  He scuffed his feet on the floor, his head lowered. "I wanted to know what it said, but he wrote in that scriggly writing. I don't know how to read that."

  "Toby, you know it's not right to read other people's letters, don't you?"

  Toby nodded. "I reckon so."

  Meagan forced a stern expression. "Perhaps I should take the quarter away from you."

  Wide eyes stared at her. "You wouldn't do that, would you?"

  "Not," Meagan asserted, "if you promise never to do anything like this again."

  His sincere gaze met hers. "I promise."

  "Okay. Go now."

  Only after he disappeared and shut the door behind him, did Meagan open the letter. Its contents sent a chill up her spine. It was sloppily written, and Meagan understood why Toby hadn't been able to read it. She was grateful for that. It was only a few words scribbled on a piece of paper, but they were words that chilled Meagan to the bone.

  Meagan,

  It's time we talked.

  Meet me at Peterson's Tavern.

  Tony

  Meagan was up and dressed in record time. In many ways it was a relief, knowing she was finally going to have some answers to her questions. Whatever she discovered, she'd handle it. One way or another she would find a way to stay with Cole.

  Meagan tiptoed out the door, saddled Angel and rode away, alone. Guilt nagged at her as she recalled her promise to Cole that he'd be the first to know if Tony contacted her. Meagan forced her guilt aside and spurred Angel toward town. She planned on keeping that promise, just as soon as she spoke to Tony. She had to see her brother one last time before she helped lock him up for good.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  "Ma, have you seen Meagan this morning?"

  Anne shook her head. "No. She must still be asleep."

  Cole grabbed a cornbread muffin and took a large bite. He poured himself a glass of orange juice and drank the whole glass in a single swig. "She isn't. I knocked on her door and no one answered."

  Anne slapped Cole's hand away as he attempted to steal another muffin. "Those are for supper, Cole. Leave them be."

  He grinned and kissed her on the cheek. "Yes ma." He turned away. "I guess I'll check outside."

  Anne nodded. "You do that."

  Stephen walked into the kitchen and nearly collided with Cole. "Hey, big brother, where are you off to?"

  "To find Meagan."

  Stephen grabbed a muffin. "She's not here."

  "You boys get out of here and stop eating all my muffins," Anne ordered.

  Stephen shrugged and followed Cole outside. "I saw Meagan ride off bright and early this morning. I figured you knew about it."

  Concern etched Cole's voice. "No. I had no idea."

  Anne appeared from behind the kitchen door. "Cole, I just remembered something."

  Cole glanced at his ma. "What?"

  Toby was by here earlier. He said he'd given Meagan a note. He said Meagan was mad at him because he'd tried to read it, but he didn't see why she cared since he couldn't make out all the scribbles."

  Cole glanced at Stephen. His expression reflected the concern Cole felt. "Thanks, Ma."

  Cole strode back inside, down the hall and into Meagan's room, Stephen following close behind. "See if you can find that note."

  Stephen was already searching. "Cole, look here." He held up a piece of paper that had been concealed by the covers of the unmade bed. He glanced at the note then handed it to Cole.

  "Damn." Cole threw the note to the floor. He'd actually believed Meagan would tell him if Tony contacted her. "Let's go."

  In a matter of minutes Cole and Stephen were riding at breakneck speed into town. They entered the edge of town, passed by several buildings then came to an abrupt halt outside Petersons Tavern. Cole dismounted, handed Lucifer's reins to Stephen and strode inside the tavern. A middle aged man with graying hair and a double chin looked up. "Hey, Charlie,” Cole greeted in as calm a voice as he could muster, “have you seen Meagan?"

  Charlie Peterson lowered his paper to his lap. "Yep. She left here about an hour ago. Rode off with a group of men."

  Cole's grim expression deepened. "Do you know which way she headed?"

  "East, I think." Charlie stood up. "Something wrong, Cole? Is Meagan in some sort of trouble."

  "I hope not.” Cole headed out the door, grabbed Lucifer's reins and mounted him before sparing a glance at Stephen. "Meagan rode east with a group of men. She left an hour ago."

  Cole turned his horse east and rode off, Stephen right beside him. Hours passed as they followed a trail of five horses. It led them to the outskirts of Meeker. There, the trail split. Cole stopped at the junction and pointed northeast. "Two horses went this way." He dropped his hand and turned his gaze eastward. "It looks like the other three headed into Meeker."

  Stephen nodded. "We'd better separate."

  "You go into town and see what you can find." Cole removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'll follow this other trail. If you don't find Meagan, fetch the sheriff and catch up to me."

  Stephen nodded his agreement and turned his horse toward town. Cole urged his horse forward. He knew just where his trek would lead him. He was on the path to Jake Montano's old place. He was heading back to Sam's home. Back to a place he'd hoped never to see again.

  *

  Meagan stared dumbly at her reflection. She didn't look a bit like herself. Since she'd arrived she'd been bathed, groomed, and dressed, all with meticulous precision. One would never have suspected she'd been kidnapped by a bunch of hoodlums.

  When she’d gotten to the Tavern, Tony wasn’t there, but four men were. They said Tony didn’t want to take any chances of her being followed, so he’d asked his men to fetch her. At first, Meagan refused, but the gun they held to her side persuaded her otherwise. She was surprised to find a horse saddled and ready for her, and she rode for miles with the group before three of the men split off, leaving her alone with the apparent leader. She rode beside the brooding man, trying to pry more information from him, but he didn’t speak a word. She threatened several times that Tony wouldn’t be pleased with how they’d been treating her, but his concern was underwhelming. She finally gave up and rode in equal silence, until she saw a ranch in the distance. “Is this where Tony is?” she asked. He just kept riding until they reached the front porch.

  He reined in his horse. “Get down.”

  Meagan brought her horse to an abrupt halt and slid from the saddle. She glanced up at the man for instructions when she heard the front door open. A short, pudgy woman with graying hair waved her in. Meagan cooperated, anxious to escape the unfriendly stranger who’d been her sole companion for the past hour.

  The woman introduced herself as Mary and explained she was here to assist her. Assist, Meagan thought, was an understatement. Mary bathed her with lemon scented soap, watched as she slipped on a chemise, petticoats and stockings. She styled her hair atop her head, forced her into a pair of ankle high black boots two sizes too small, and watched with an eagle eye as Meagan donned a pair of elegant white gloves which fit her like a second skin.

  It was only when Mary held up a perfect strand of pearls that Meagan decided she wasn’t minding this so much, after all. She touched the pearls with her fingertips
then turned, allowing Mary to fasten them around her neck. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and it was then she realized how different she looked.

  "Now, for the final touch," Mary held up a yellow gown. “I waited for last so we wouldn’t get a single wrinkle in it.”

  Meagan spun back to face the woman and shook her head vehemently. She'd made a promise to Cole, and she intended on keeping it. "I won't wear that."

  "Nonsense,” Mary stepped forward, "be a good girl and put this on."

  Meagan stood her ground, arms crossed, feet planted. "I won't."

  A dangerous glint appeared in the servants eyes. "You will, Meagan, for if you don't, I'll fetch the master. I'm sure his methods of convincing you will be less pleasant than mine."

  Mary kept mentioning a master, a cruel, evil man. A man Meagan decided she had no desire to cross. With an audible sigh, Meagan slipped into the dress and allowed Mary to button it.

  Mary stood back and assessed her. "You look fine, Meagan. I think the master will be right pleased with me, I do." She turned and opened the door. "Now, follow me."

  Meagan followed Mary without protest, and as they entered a wide hall, she noted the riches that surrounded her. Marble statutes, china vases, gold plated carvings, tapestry rugs, all obviously old, but well cared for. Mary opened a double door at the end of a hall and stepped aside.

  Meagan entered the large room and noted in the center was a rocking chair, its back to her. It was rocking, slowly, back and forth. She paused with bated breath as the chair swiveled and its occupant came in to view.

  "Tony!" Meagan darted forward, “thank goodness you’re here. I was beginning to think this was all a trick and I was going to be the prisoner to some evil man called “The Master.” She bent to hug her brother but stopped just shy of him when her eyes clashed with his cold, hard stare. She straightened and took a couple steps back. Apparently he wasn’t very happy to see her.

  “You look perfect, Meagan. Mary's done a fine job."

  Meagan absently raised a hand to the pearls at her neck as she studied her brother’s features. He was handsome in an odd fashion, like a carved statute in which the artist took great care to bring forth the perfect combination of delicacy and strength. His hair was pale, so pale it was nearly white, quite a contract to his deep bronze skin which was so smooth it looked as though he'd never developed the ability to grow facial hair.

  "I came, like you asked,” Meagan offered, hoping to lighten his mood.

  "Sit down, Meagan."

  She complied without argument.

  Tony gazed down his narrow, straight nose at her, "Good. Keep listening like that, and we’ll get along just fine.”

  Meagan was suddenly uncomfortable in her brothers company. She recognized he was angry with her, which probably meant he suspected it was she who told Cole about the cattle thefts. “Tony,” she stuttered, trying to think of a way to explain, “I’m sorry about snitching on you. I didn’t want to, only…”

  "You are disillusioned, Meagan,” Tony interrupted. “My fault, really," he confessed. “I led you to believe I cared about you," he let out a harsh laugh. "I don't, you know. Not a bit. You are simply a means to an end."

  Meagan paled at his cruel words. "You don't mean that. You're just angry."

  "No, Meagan, I'm not angry. You've done everything I wanted. You've been the perfect puppet for me, so far."

  “A puppet!” Meagan’s protest was quickly stifled as Tony’s glare intensified.

  "You see, Meagan,” he continued, “I needed Cole to come here, and that seemed an impossible feat, until you entered the picture. Cole will come. For you, he’ll come."

  For the first time since she’d seen her brother in that chair, a shiver of fear swept through Meagan. "What do you want with Cole?"

  Tony ignored her question. "It's been years that I've waited." He sighed. "Years filled with anticipation as I waited for everything to fall into place."

  He knelt and clasped her face between his thumb and finger. "It's time, Meagan." He stood.

  Meagan stayed where she was, immobile, staring at a man she no longer recognized.

  "Come, Meagan. Follow me."

  She decided it wise not to argue and she stood on wobbly legs, following him from the room. He led her up a curving staircase to a long, sweeping balcony. He pointed at a plush red rug that rested on the floor. "Stand here."

  "Tony, I..."

  "Stand here, now!"

  Meagan darted forward and stood where he'd indicated. He was truly frightening her, now.

  "Not like that, Meagan,” he grasped her shoulders in a rough grip and forced her to face the railing, and the parlor below.

  "Stand up straighter."

  Meagan complied.

  "Turn your hip to the right."

  She complied again.

  He backed away, tipping his head from side to side as he studied her. "That's good. Tilt your head a bit more."

  Meagan did. She wanted to bolt, to scream at him that he was insane for making her do this. She wanted to plead, to remind him he was her brother. She did none of that. She just complied with his orders.

  "Good. He studied her in silence. "Don't move. Not even an inch."

  "I'm not at all comfortable," Meagan muttered.

  "Don't talk." He warned.

  "Tony, I don't understand any of this,” Meagan exclaimed as she raised her hands in frustration.

  "Damn it, Meagan. I said don't move.” He repositioned her. “If you continue to disobey me, if you talk, move or even look like you might," his voice deepened, "then Cole dies. That's a promise."

  Meagan froze, not even blinking.

  His hard, sinister laugh reverberated through the large space. "Very good, Meagan. I knew you were capable of following orders."

  Meagan barely allowed herself to breathe as she watched Tony disappear. She waited, silent and still, though she had no idea just what she was waiting for.

  *

  Cole flung the door wide and strode into the house without so much as a knock, pistol raised and ready. He came face to face with a strange looking man who equaled his height yet was so thin and pale he seemed almost fragile, like he'd break in two if you touched him. "What the hell's going on here," Cole questioned with a quick glance around. "Where is Meagan?"

  "I've got her."

  "Bring her to me," Cole ordered, his finger on the trigger.

  "I can't do that."

  Cole leveled his pistol to the man's chest. "You will, or you're a dead man," Cole threatened.

  "If you kill me,” the man stated with assured calm, “you’ll never find out what you came here to find out."

  Cole stiffened. "I came to get Meagan."

  The man shrugged. "Maybe,” his gaze narrowed, “yet there were two paths, two places Meagan might be, and you chose this one.”

  “Coincidence.”

  “Maybe,” the man repeated, “or maybe not,” he shrugged. “Either way, now that you’re here, don’t you want to know why?” He pivoted and strode away.

  Cole wanted to remind him that it was he who held the gun, or even more tempting, just shoot the fool in the back. Instead, he followed him. He kept his gaze, and his aim, on the man’s back, but an eerie sense of déjà vu haunted him as each step brought him closer to a past he never wanted to visit again. He’d walked this same path, seen the same furnishings, rugs, draperies, even vases. All these years had passed, yet everything was the mirror image of what he’d seen eight long years ago.

  "I know about Sam,” the man claimed.

  Cole froze in place, wondering if his ears had deceived him.

  “I know what happened all those years ago,” the man continued as he turned to face him. “I know about you, and her."

  Cole felt the color drain from his face. The pistol shook in his grip and it took all his concentration to keep it raised and aimed. A web was being woven around him, cleverly, precisely woven to trap him into a place he never wanted to go again.r />
  “Give me the gun, Cole. Give me the gun and I’ll tell you what I know.”

  "Who the hell are you?" Cole asked, hoping his tone masked his indecision.

  "Look closely, Cole. I think you already know who I am. "

  Cole studied the man, this time with a purpose. He met the ruthless stare of a man whose eyes were so pale, they were barely blue. Eyes just like...,"Jake?"

  Cole didn’t realize he’d spoken the name aloud until the man nodded. "Good, Cole. Not quite right, but very good. Allow me to introduce myself.” He moved in closer, “I'm Anthony Montano, Jake's son." A sneer lifted his upper lip, “and Samantha's brother.” His smile never touched his eyes as he raised his arm, palm up, to Cole. “Now, give me the gun.”

  Cursing his stupidity, Cole dropped the pistol into the man’s hand.

  "Now,” he ordered, “follow me."

  Was the man completely crazy, turning his back to him? Probably, Cole thought, but not as crazy as he’d been for turning his weapon over without a fight. He followed Anthony along the same path he'd taken eight years before. He was led into the parlor. His eyes naturally went to where Sam had stood years before and gasped when he caught sight of Meagan. She was wearing the exact same yellow dress Sam had worn on that fateful night.

  A wave of nauseous nearly sent Cole to the floor. He steadied himself, his gaze never wavering from Meagan. Her hair was styled in the same fashion Sam wore the night of her death. She wore Sam's necklace, her shoes, even stood in a similar fashion to the way Sam had stood. Everything was the same, everything except the color of her hair. Meagan's blonde locks reminded Cole that this was a different day, a different situation.

  "What do you think?" Anthony asked, spreading his arms wide, a pleased grin on his face.

  "I think,” Cole stated coldly, “that you're a sick man, Anthony."

  Anthony glanced up to the balcony. "Is that right, Meagan, am I a sick man?"

  Cole felt his entire body stiffen as Anthony made his way up the staircase, towards Meagan. Damn if he wasn’t a fool for handing over his gun. Meagan didn't move, didn't react. Cole quietly moved closer, but stopped when Anthony reached Meagan, not wanting to do anything to cause the man to hurt her.