by Natalie Dean
“I don’t think Aurelius is satisfied though. He’ll still be digging. I’m just glad that he’s home with Mary-Lee. I don’t think we’re going to be able to go off duty tonight. We can’t leave it all to Carson. There’s bound to be trouble.”
Jack nodded, cutting his steak with the refined manners that seemed so out of place for a Texan and yet so uniquely right for him. “Bound to be. But we’ll be ready for it. There are good men in that posse, and they’re no cowards. All the same . . . I’m glad there are three of us on this.”
“We haven’t made a dent against the Townsends or their power,” Benjamin said, unable to hide his discontent. “Old Abel was very precise about letting us know that Townsends have influence in the state and the federal government. They can see to it that you and I are dismissed, and they can appoint someone else who’ll fall in line with their orders. If they do that, what happens to us? You’ve got a baby coming; I’ve just gotten married; Mary-Lee has just gotten her father back. Everything that we’ve worked for would be for naught.”
Jack calmly continued to spread soft, creamy butter across the slice of bread in his hands. He signaled for the waiter to refresh his wine.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” he said. “We’re taking care of this, one step at a time and that’s the only way to do it. We have a Townsend in jail, and we have a judge on the way to hear the case. We won’t have a Townsend for mayor after the election in November. That’s as much as we could have hoped for from this round. You know as well as I do that the law doesn’t ride a thoroughbred. It rides a mule, and it gets there slow. It’s stubborn and won’t listen to anyone but its own counsel. But it gets what it wants in the end because it just won’t give in.”
“Some people say the only way to get a mule’s attention is to smack it against its head with a two by four,” Benjamin commented.
“I’ve heard that, too.” Jack sounded very philosophical. “I suspect that Abel Townsend intends to try that tactic tonight. It’s fortunate for us that the Townsends are so arrogant that they assume we’re buffoons. They won’t expect us to be ready for them.”
Aurelius Jameson was delivering much the same message to his daughter, who, like her husband, was disappointed that the raid on the camp hadn’t resulted in more definitive action.
“There’s nothing to prevent them from coming back, Papa,” she complained. “The Townsends are still going to own Knox Mills.”
They had eaten supper and were now sitting in the parlor. Clearly, her father was enjoying the comfort of being in a house. He sat in the rocking chair, the Jameson family Bible that Mary-Lee had brought with her on his lap. Mary-Lee sat in a chair, sewing the curtains for the parlor windows. It was good to have her father here, safe and sound. Still, she found herself listening to every noise from within and without, even though she knew Benjamin would not be home tonight. She understood why. He was needed to keep the peace in town because he, Jack, and Carson all expected trouble. She wasn’t afraid for herself, not with her father here. She knew that Benjamin was relieved as well that his father-in-law, now that he was no longer in hiding, was able to stay in the house with his daughter, and should protection be needed, he could provide it.
“Uncle Augustus is still going to want the deeds to those gold mines,” she reminded her father. “Especially now that he knows you’re not dead.”
“I expect that he will. You’ve hidden them well.”
“Papa!” she exclaimed, angry that he was so tranquil when her very insides were churning with worry over Benjamin and what might be going on in town. The Townsends were by no means vanquished, and just because Lance Townsend was in a jail cell didn’t mean that he would stay there. And then there was her uncle. Nothing had happened to him. “I still don’t understand why you let him go,” she muttered. “You say that for eight years you’ve been gathering evidence, and yet, when you challenge him, the two of you have a private conversation and you come out of it saying that we can’t hold him.”
Her father hid a smile at her usage of the pronoun “we” when discussing the law enforcement decision to let Augustus Jameson go free. “Pet, I’d rather let my brother tie his own noose.”
“You’re sure that he will?”
“I’m sure.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“He hasn’t stopped wanting money and influence. The only way to get that is to keep his connection to the Townsends strong. And the only way to do that is to keep acquiring money. He’s not going anywhere. He’s not going back to Abilene. Not yet, anyway, no matter what he said.”
“That’s what he said? That he’s going back to Abilene?”
“That’s what he said.”
“But you don’t believe him.”
“Not when the deeds to the gold mines are here. He knows that one of us has to have them. Now that I’m here, he’s likely to think I have them. That’s what I want him to think.”
“He’ll try to take them?”
Aurelius Jameson nodded as he rocked in the chair. “He’ll try.”
“What else do you know?” she asked suspiciously. Her father seemed to be privy to a number of answers for questions that hadn’t been asked.
“I know my brother.”
“Papa, that’s not what I mean. Is he going to come here and try to take them?”
“If you’re fearful, then I can take you into town. I discussed it with Benjamin.”
“What do you mean, you discussed it with Benjamin! This is my decision, not his.”
“He’s your husband. He’s concerned about your safety. He’s a lawman and he’s made a vow to keep people safe.”
“Papa, you’re not listening to me. I’m not going anywhere. This is my home! I’m not going to run because a no-good snake has designs upon these deeds to gold mines that I’ve never even seen.”
“That’s more or less what your husband said. He’d rather you come into town, but he said he wouldn’t force you.”
“He couldn’t force me!” Mary-Lee declared.
Aurelius tilted his head and surveyed his petite daughter. He considered the ratio of his daughter’s height to his son-in-law’s strapping dimensions. “I reckon he could, pet,” Aurelius said gently. “But he won’t. He’s a rare man to respect that part of you that demands to be heard. You’d frighten a weaker man.”
“I don’t know if you’re complimenting me or chastising me.”
“I’m wishing that you could have chosen how you wanted to be, but it wasn’t the way our lives went. I was away so often, and I needed you to be strong and independent. Your mother would have said I did wrong by you.” A nostalgic smile altered the rugged, weather-beaten lines of her father’s face. “She was quite a lady.”
“I’m a lady too, Papa!” Mary-Lee said, stung by his words, even though he had not meant them in the way that she took them.
“You certainly are, pet,” Aurelius said. “There are many different kinds of ladies. Nothing wrong with that. Some women are born to be empresses, and it doesn’t matter if they’re twelve-year old girls in Abilene, Kansas, or twenty-year-old brides in Knox Mills, Texas. Being strong doesn’t make you any less a lady, and you remember that. I’d rather have you with a rifle in your hand, with the way things are in this wild territory. It can be your daughters who hold the bouquets of roses and are able to do it because their mother was a lady who knew how to shoot a rifle to protect her home.”
Chapter 19
Evening, July 7, 1852, Knox Mills, Texas
Jack Walker’s gut instincts told him that something was up —and it meant trouble. The men in the cell were too quiet, too composed, considering that they’d been truculent and loud for most of the day. They’d had visitors in the afternoon, Abe Winslow told Jack. Men from the Townsend spread, not old Abel, but a couple of others. They hadn’t stayed long, hadn’t talked much, but Abe was pretty sure that messages had been passed along with the beef jerky and bread.
Night had fallen, and Carson
was doing his usual patrol of the town. Jack and Benjamin were in the sheriff’s office; Benjamin was posting the latest “Wanted” posters they’d received, while Jack wrote up the report of the events at the camp. He wanted to make sure that he had everything plainly written for Judge Drury. Drury was a fair man, and a tough judge, but he didn’t cut corners. He wasn’t afraid of the Townsends or U.S. marshals. He knew that the Townsends were a bad influence in Knox Mills, in Austin, and in Washington City. But that influence couldn’t be curbed except by legal means. The fact that he had sent word that he’d be in Knox Mills the following day revealed his own determination to hold the hearing as soon as possible.
Facts, that’s what were needed, and Jack figured that he had plenty of those.
“You planning on keeping all of us in here until the judge comes?”
“That’s the plan,” Jack replied, not looking up. He had no reason to engage in conversation with any of the prisoners, especially Lance Townsend.
“Calls of nature,” another one said.
“You know what a chamber pot looks like.”
He heard muttering. He ignored it. Emptying a chamber pot wasn’t a glamorous task, but it was preferable to letting one of the prisoners out of the cell and risking an escape.
“There’s more of us and only one chamber pot.”
“Take turns,” Benjamin advised.
“When my uncle is through with you, you won’t be so bold,” Lance predicted.
“Why, Lance,” Benjamin said pleasantly, “I’m not bold now. I’m just doing the job the town pays me to do.”
“And when I’m mayor, you’ll be looking for another job,” Lance warned. “I’m not having the likes of you two running things in Knox Mills.”
“The election isn’t until November,” Jack reminded him. “Best you wait until then before you start making any threats.”
“I have kin in Austin and—“
“Good for you. Why don’t you move to Austin?” Jack suggested. “It’s a fine city.”
“Or better yet,” Benjamin spoke up, “why don’t you go back to Abilene?”
“When I get out of here—"
Just then, Jack and Benjamin heard the sounds of shots being fired. Benjamin grabbed his hat and rifle and followed Jack, who was already out of his chair and out the door. The men in the cell began jeering but neither Jack nor Benjamin wasted time responding.
At a run, Jack and Benjamin headed for the center of town, the spot where the shots had been fired. They saw Carson in the midst of what looked to be a scuffle with a handful of men.
“Those fellows were with Jameson,” Jack said, pulling his gun from its holster. “What are they doing here now?”
He didn’t expect an answer from Benjamin, who took a couple more steps and then, suddenly, wheeled. “This is a diversion,” Benjamin said. “I’m heading back home. I’ll lay odds that there’s trouble at my place, and it goes by the name of Augustus Jameson.”
Jack nodded. “Careful,” he said.
Benjamin was already gone. They should have known that Jameson would try something, he realized, cursing himself for his stupidity as he mounted Sal and galloped toward home. If anyone had harmed so much as a hair on Mary-Lee’s head, he’d see that they lived to regret it.
Sal took the pace with a will; she’d learned to be a U.S. marshal’s horse while her owner was learning the ropes as a U.S. marshal and there was nothing better on four legs. As if she was aware of the need for haste, she raced toward home, sparing nothing.
Guessing that Augustus Jameson would already be there filled Benjamin with a sick sense of dread. Mary-Lee might be fearless, but she was no match for a murderous uncle who would do anything to get hold of the deeds to those gold mines. And there was no telling what Augustus would do to his brother in the process, Benjamin realized; Cain and Abel had nothing on Augustus Jameson.
As soon as the house came into view, Benjamin slid from his saddle and walked furtively toward the door. Sal could be trusted to stay put, waiting where he left her in case she was needed in a hurry.
Approaching the front of his house, Benjamin took care not to be seen from the window. He could hear voices raised in anger as he crouched below the parlor window.
“The deeds!”
“Not here,” Aurelius Jameson answered calmly.
“You’re a liar.”
“Sometimes,” Mary-Lee’s father replied. “But ask yourself, brother; why would I tote those deeds around where you’d sniff them out like a wolf smelling blood. Reminds me of the time that someone shot at me when I was up north and left me for dead. Wolves were out, and I had a busted leg. I reckon whoever shot at me figured the wolves would finish me off.”
“Obviously they didn’t,” Augustus Jameson snarled.
“Nope.”
Where was Mary-Lee, Benjamin wondered. Was she there? Was she all right? Surely her father wouldn’t sound so serene if his daughter were in peril?
He heard the sound of wood creaking on the front porch, and he ducked behind the azalea bush seconds before a face peered around the pillar.
So Augustus Jameson had sentries in the front of the house. Waiting for him, no doubt, Benjamin thought grimly. No surprise that Augustus had a well-laid plan. The altercation in town that Jack and Carson were handling had been a set-up to lure them out of the sheriff’s office. Was a jail escape planned? Had Augustus come here to get the deeds to the gold mine? That was most likely; he wanted that money. Especially with Judge Drury coming. Augustus Jameson needed the Townsend influence and influence had to be paid for.
Benjamin waited, willing himself to be still. He heard the sound of the porch creaking again. He peered through the bush; the sentry was gone. But he’d be back. He must have heard something; Benjamin couldn’t be careless. Too much depended upon stealth.
“I could shoot you now,” Augustus Jameson was saying.
“You could try,” his brother replied.
“I have a gun, you don’t.”
“Guess I never told you about that time in Amarillo when a gunman came after me when I wasn’t armed. I had to take care of him with what I had on me. My hands.”
“I’m not interested in your reminiscences about your past escapes. I want the deeds, and you have them. Or she has them.”
“Or the bank has them.”
“Not the bank in Abilene. And not the bank in Knox Mills.”
“Last time I checked, there were more than two banks in the United States of America.”
“I don’t believe you,” Augustus said, but there was a note of uncertainty in his voice, as if he found his brother’s story credible.
“Ask yourself. Why would I carry deeds to gold mines on me, with the life I was living? On the run, no safe place to go to, never knowing when someone was likely to pull a gun on me. You think I’d keep deeds to gold mines in my saddle bags?”
“You wouldn’t. You’d leave them with your daughter!” Augustus crowed triumphantly as if his brother had confirmed what he suspected.
“And why would I leave deeds to a gold mine with a twelve-year old child who couldn’t protect them and wouldn’t know what to do with them?” Aurelius went on as if Augustus hadn’t spoken. “I knew that my brother couldn’t be trusted, but she didn’t know that. You were her uncle; she assumed you would take care of her since I wasn’t around.”
“She never trusted me. You told her not to.”
Aurelius chuckled. “How would I do that? I haven’t been in Mary-Lee’s life for eight years. She’s grown up on her own, with no one to look after her.”
“I’d have looked after her, but she’s a stubborn, bull-headed shrew who won’t listen to reason.”
“She won’t listen to anyone telling her who to marry, that’s for certain,” Aurelius agreed genially.
“I had a good marriage planned for her. The Townsends are a powerful family. She’d have had everything she could have wanted.”
“You planned to marry her off to tha
t Townsend whelp because you figured that if she had the deeds, he’d get them from her and the two of you would be rich at her expense. You didn’t care about what was good for her. And now Lance Townsend is going before a judge.”
“There’s nothing to pin on Lance Townsend.”
“You don’t think so? See, I’m thinking that there is. I’m thinking that your boy Lance orchestrated that little show of force here at this cabin, to scare my daughter. Mary-Lee doesn’t scare easily. I’m thinking that when those boys get in front of the judge, they’ll start squealing because the judge is going to want to know what happened and who put them up to it. You think they’ll do jail time for Lance Townsend?”
Benjamin listened closely from his secluded perch behind the azaleas. He and Aurelius had discussed the premise that they would present to Judge Drury. But Benjamin wasn’t at all confident that the gang who had shot up his house would abandon Lance Townsend. Old Abel Townsend kept his minions on a short leash. Plus, Lance hadn’t been with the others the day that they showed up at his house to scare Mary-Lee; there was nothing to prove that he’d been behind the plot. Old Abel had insisted that Lance knew nothing about it.
And where in tarnation was Mary-Lee? She couldn’t be in the parlor; Augustus would have capitalized upon her presence to use her as a hostage, and Benjamin knew that Aurelius would count the deeds well lost if it came to a choice between them and his daughter. But she’d promised him that she’d stay put with her father.
Where was she? It was a good thing she wasn’t here, that was for sure. But she had to be somewhere. Was she safe? And how was he going to make his way out from behind the azalea bush so that he could get in a position where he could be of service to his father-in-law? How many men were guarding the cabin? Augustus must have been counting on the law to stay put in town where they’d all be occupied by the diversion that he’d concocted. Were Jack and Carson in trouble? He knew that there were enough men in town to come to their aid if they were needed, just as they’d done for the posse Jack had rounded up.