Scotsman Wore Spurs

by Potter, Patricia;

  Killian was already in town, had been for several days.

  Drew and Ben conferred. Neither was known to Killian, and thus had some freedom of movement that Kirby didn’t. Ben decided to track Killian down and follow him. Drew would sit in the lobby of the hotel, watching for the killer.

  The afternoon passed slowly for Drew. He hadn’t realized how difficult it was to try to look relaxed while scrutinizing every visitor, searching for a tall lean man with a silver hat band. Then Ben appeared, and Drew followed him up to Kirby’s room.

  “He’s been asking about Kirby, saying he’s looking for a job,” Ben said when they were all inside the rancher’s room. He turned all his attention to Kirby. “He knows you’re here. He’ll probably wait until he thinks you’re asleep. We’ll arrange a surprise for him.”

  The three of them placed a bedroll under the blankets on Kirby’s bed, making it appear as if someone were sleeping there. Then Ben turned to Drew. “Go downstairs and wait for him to come back in after he’s gone to supper.”

  Drew raised an eyebrow in question.

  “When he enters the lobby door, you head for the stairs, act drunk and bump against Kirby’s door on the way to your room. Then go on to the room.”

  Drew looked at him suspiciously, wondering whether Ben was merely trying to get him out of the way.

  “We need to know he’s on the way,” Ben pointed out. “There’s no other way.”

  Drew had to surrender. What Ben had said made sense. But he planned to be close by and ready in the event that anything went wrong. He headed downstairs to the lobby, found a chair, and pulled his hat down over his eyes, listening for footfalls.

  Kirby sat with Ben on the floor of the room, guns in their hands.

  It was the waiting, Kirby thought. It was the waiting that tore at a man’s gut, that made him think, made him remember what had brought him to this point. And Kirby knew he didn’t deserve the help he was getting.

  The hours went by slowly in total silence. Then came a bump at the door, followed a minute later by something rasping in the lock. Ben was standing now, as was Kirby. The door opened, light filtered in from a lamp in the hallway, and feathers from the bedding flew as the sound of a gunshot filled the room.

  Ben slammed the door, trapping the killer inside.

  “Don’t move,” he said. “There’s two guns pointed right at your head.”

  But Killian did move, swiftly swinging his gun to point unerringly at Kirby. Before he could move, Kirby heard another loud blast—and saw Killian crumple to the floor.

  Ben swore, bending down over the man. “Who sent you?” he asked.

  Killian moaned.

  “Dammit, who?”

  But the moan ended in a sigh, and the body went limp.

  They wouldn’t learn anything from Killian.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “I’m going to go to the law and tell them exactly what happened twenty-five years ago,” Kirby said. “I won’t have any other lives on my conscience.”

  Drew had returned to the ranch with Kirby and Ben after Ben pacified the San Antonio law. Since Ben was a former marshal and was able to prove that Killian was in a room that wasn’t his own the local sheriff was willing to accept that the killing was justified. Drew had not been involved, his name not even mentioned.

  “It’ll be your word against Thorpe’s about who killed that clerk, Kirby,” Ben said. “You won’t be able to prove a thing. And if you ruin Thorpe’s chances for the governorship, he’ll come after you for sure, and probably Gabrielle and Jon as well.”

  Kirby swore.

  “Drew has another idea to bring Thorpe out into the open,” Ben told him. “He may be wary now, because Killian’s dead. But if we dangle a large enough prize in front of his eyes, he might just bite, particularly if he thinks you might talk and ruin his hopes for the governorship. He can’t know that you already realize who he is, but he has to know you might well figure it out.”

  Leaning casually against the wing chair in which Gabrielle was sitting, Drew listened, satisfied to let Ben explain his plan to Kirby.

  “If,” Ben finished, “Thorpe is as voracious as we think he is, he’ll jump at the opportunity to sell some land to a wealthy Scotsman. The English are buying land all over the West right now, investing in huge cattle spreads, so he wouldn’t suspect anything. And, given the right encouragement, he might well try to keep the money and the land if he thinks he can get away with it. That’s the key. We have to make the opportunity so inviting he can’t resist.”

  Kirby scowled. “And if he doesn’t take the bait?”

  “Drew pulls out, says he changed his mind, and we try something else.”

  Silence descended on the room.

  “Drew would be more believable as a rich real-estate speculator if he had a wife,” Gabrielle pointed out.

  Drew’s gaze flashed downward to her, an instant protest springing to his lips. “No,” he said, hearing the edge of panic in his own voice. “He may know what you look like.”

  “Not when I get through with myself,” she said, turning in her chair to look up at him. “A blond wig will do wonders. Any good dressmaker will have them available.”

  Drew’s hands were suddenly cold, and he became even more aware of it when Gabrielle reached up and took one of his hands in her warm one.

  “I can’t live the rest of my life worrying about someone behind every tree,” she said quietly. “It’s my battle as much as Kirby’s.”

  Drew looked to Ben for support. “Ben, please, tell her that this is a dreadful idea.”

  Ben shook his head. “Can’t. She’s right. A husband and wife would be better.”

  Drew’s hand clenched around Gabrielle’s. “No,” he said again.

  Gabrielle twisted around further so that she could look at him directly. “Drew, you’re going to risk your life. I have the right to do the same. And I will. For my father, if for no other reason.”

  Drew knew her too well. If he didn’t let her go with him, she would find some way of doing it on her own, just as she had braved the cattle drive alone. At least with him and Ben, she would have some protection.

  “You two won’t be alone,” Ben pointed out. “I have a few friends who will help. Men I can trust.”

  The assurance didn’t calm the fear in Drew’s heart. But he knew of no argument that would change Gabrielle’s mind, and if he didn’t take her with him, she might well do something on her own. He couldn’t risk that. So he glared at Ben. “If anything happens to her …”

  Ben looked at him, then around the room. “I think Philip Thorpe has finally met his match.”

  The Austin hotel room was one of the finest Gabrielle had ever occupied. She and her parents had never had much money and usually had stayed in clean but economical boardinghouses.

  Ben had insisted on the Grand because it offered suites, the kind a wealthy Scot might require. A suite, with adjoining rooms, also allowed for better protection. Ben engaged one suite for Andrew Cameron, Lord Kinloch, and his wife, Catherine. He engaged a second adjoining suite for a rich Colorado mine owner named Dan Forsyth.

  Gabrielle looked around the suite with awe and not a little apprehension. As an earl, she realized that Drew must be used to lavish lodgings like this. But the luxury itself made her feel out of place.

  Two sharp-eyed strangers joined Ben, or Dan Forsyth, next door. One of them, a man named Kane O’Brien, deftly unlocked the door separating the suites without a key. Gabrielle soon discovered he’d once been an outlaw named Diablo—the man she’d heard mentioned several times before. She wasn’t entirely sure how he’d come to be here, but it was plain that Ben trusted him implicitly, and he certainly looked deadly enough. Their other accomplice, a man named Jud Merrill, was a former law officer who, she gathered, owed Ben a favor. She wondered who had been dispatched to the Circle K to guard Kirby and Jon. Ben’s resources seemed limitless, his commitment to this venture complete.

  She and Drew went
shopping. She purchased two very fine dresses, Drew two expensive suits. They had pooled their funds to do so, and Kirby, who’d made a great deal on the cattle drive, was providing the cash to “buy” the land.

  The next step was locating a blond wig, and when she mentioned her requirements in the men’s hearing, Kane O’Brien appeared with one later that day. She didn’t ask questions, but she admitted to herself that the man had a good eye. The wig fit over her short hair perfectly and, with a hat, she would look quite elegant.

  She worked with Drew for several hours on learning a Scottish accent, and her years as an actress served her well. His own accent deepened, and all traces of the western lingo he’d picked up on the trail disappeared.

  Once they felt ready, Drew wrote a formal note to Philip Thorpe, saying that he, the Earl of Kinloch, was in America to buy a considerable parcel of land, that he was hopeful of a rapid transaction, and that he’d been informed that Philip Thorpe was just the man to help him. He added that he wanted all dealings confidential at this time. Would Mr. Thorpe be amenable to an immediate meeting in his hotel suite?

  A hotel messenger was dispatched with the note.

  And then they waited. Ben and Kane O’Brien joined them in their parlor and reviewed details. Neither Drew nor Gabrielle was ever to be left alone. O’Brien and Merrill would follow them wherever they went, and Drew was to make sure the two never lost them. Ben would stay at the hotel until it appeared Thorpe might make his move.

  Gabrielle noticed that Drew and O’Brien immediately took a liking to each other, leading Ben to comment wryly that they deserved each other. Rogues, both of them, he said. Merrill was more like Ben—quiet, reserved, watchful.

  They reviewed the scheme again. If Thorpe checked, he would discover there really was an Earl of Kinloch in America, and one with a less than savory reputation. Drew had winced slightly at the characterization but then shrugged it off.

  Gabrielle had watched his face as he’d made the gesture. So much of him was still a mystery, yet it was plain to her that Lisbeth had been correct—he clearly hated his title. Seeing that, the last vestiges of injury she’d felt at not being told about it evaporated.

  She wanted to go to him, touch him, comfort and love him. She wanted to lie in his arms. But she was beginning to think they would never be alone again. Ben in particular had been staying close, and she wasn’t sure that it was altogether for their physical safety. He seemed to have taken on the role of big brother—big protective brother—to her, and as much as she appreciated his efforts in this intricate venture, she wished he would allow her some privacy with Drew.

  “You sure you feel comfortable with that gun?” he asked her.

  She nodded. She’d produced her father’s Colt, causing shocked male stares. Then she’d had to prove to them all that she knew how to use it. She hadn’t missed the look of pride in Drew’s gaze when she’d passed the test.

  Still, Ben seemed to feel concerned. “You shoot close up,” he said. “That’s if you have to shoot at all.”

  Sighing inwardly, she didn’t argue.

  A knock at the door prompted Ben and his friends to conceal themselves in the bedroom. Drew opened the door and accepted a formal-looking envelope from a messenger boy.

  “I was told to wait for a reply,” the boy said.

  Drew opened the envelope and quickly read its contents. “Tell Mr. Thorpe that tomorrow at ten is quite acceptable.”

  The boy nodded and disappeared down the corridor. Drew closed the door and called an all-clear toward the bedroom. The three men emerged.

  “Thorpe took the bait, gentlemen,” Drew announced.

  Philip Thorpe’s face was florid, his body well padded, his tailoring and grooming otherwise impeccable. He obviously ate well, drank well, and lived well. He also had cold eyes even when his face was wreathed in smiles.

  Gabrielle hid her revulsion as she watched him, standing in the parlor of their hotel suite, extend a hand to Drew.

  “My lord,” he fawned.

  Gabrielle glanced sideways at Drew and sensed that, as he shook Thorpe’s hand, he was inwardly contemptuous. Yet he handled himself with the amiable condescension she would have expected anyone of his class to display. He would do well as an actor, she thought fleetingly.

  “And this is Lady Kinloch,” Drew said, his hand touching the small of her back in a possessive gesture.

  “It’s a great pleasure, Lady Kinloch,” Thorpe said.

  She did not offer her hand, merely raised what she hoped was an aristocratic eyebrow.

  Thorpe turned back to Drew. “I understand you’re looking for land.”

  “Aye,” Drew said with a deep exaggerated brogue. “But I donna want it known. I ha’ come into some money recently, but I also owe a few debts, if ye ken my meaning. I know of an Englishman who has made a great success of a ranch out here, in your wilderness. I, too, wish to purchase a ranch and find someone to run it—all verra quietly. My friend said I could triple my investment verra quickly.”

  “The land deed has to be filed,” Thorpe said carefully.

  “Aye, I thought it would,” Drew said. “My wife’s maiden name should do.” He shrugged. “Before long I should ha’ found the funds to pay my debts, and all will be well.”

  “Why did you come to me?” Thorpe asked cautiously.

  “I am told ye own a lot of property here,” Drew said. “And that ye might be selling some of it to raise money to run for … what do ye call it?”

  “Governor,” Thorpe said expansively.

  “Aye. And I’ve been assured ye are a shrewd businessman wi’ an eye toward opportunity. ’Tis nothing I see illegal aboot this transaction. I just want to stress the need for … discretion.”

  “How much money do you have?” Thorpe asked.

  Gabrielle could almost see him licking his lips like a cat with cream on its whiskers.

  “Nearly two hundred thousand of your American dollars,” Drew said.

  Philip Thorpe blinked. “In cash?”

  “Aye. I donna believe in banks,” Drew said.

  A strangled noise came from Thorpe’s throat. “Surely you don’t carry it with you?”

  Drew shrugged. “I keep a pistol in my carriage,” he said complacently. “I would ha’ the money available.”

  Gabrielle could almost see Thorpe’s brain working. He would have already verified by telegraph that an Earl of Kinloch was indeed in the United States.

  “I do have some land you might like,” Thorpe said tentatively. “If you would like to see a map …”

  Drew nodded.

  The man unrolled a map on the desk. “It’s three miles out of Austin. Property used to be a cotton plantation. Owner died during the war, and I bought it from the widow. Land’s just been sitting there, waiting for the right buyer. Real pretty place. Rolling hills. Good stream for water. Of course, I have had other inquiries. In fact, just yesterday …” His voice trailed off.

  Drew turned to Gabrielle.

  She shuddered delicately. “Wha’ aboot Indians?”

  “They’re long gone from this area, Lady Kinloch,” Thorpe assured her. “And you wouldn’t find a prettier piece of land in Scotland.”

  “I want t’ go back to Scotland,” she said plaintively to her “husband.”

  Drew’s voice grew firm. “Ye know that is not possible. The law—” He stopped suddenly, as if belatedly remembering Thorpe’s presence. “How soon can we be aboot closing the transaction, Mr. Thorpe, if the property pleases us?”

  Thorpe’s eyes were greedy now. Very, very greedy, Gabrielle noted with satisfaction.

  “Surely you have a friend, an acquaintance, a lawyer who would like to advise you?” Thorpe probed.

  “Do I look like a man who requires someone else’s opinion?” Drew said disdainfully. “A … provincial’s opinion, at that?” He turned to his “wife.” “’Twill only be a few months, my dear. Things will be sorted out.”

  “The disgrace, the shame,” Gabri
elle said, wilting against Drew’s shoulder. “My family canna hold their heads up again because ye—”

  “Mr. Thorpe is not interested in all that, my dear, not interested at all. When we show a profit, show them all what we’ve accomplished …”

  Gabrielle sighed loudly.

  “You will like the property, Lady Kinloch,” Philip Thorpe said hastily. “And there’s a lovely little house.”

  “Little?” she said in a horrified tone.

  “I think we’d best be seeing the property,” Drew interjected. “As soon as possible.”

  Thorpe nodded. “I can meet you out there tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll give you directions. If you think you’re interested, I can bring the papers with me. There is another buyer coming to see it.”

  Drew’s eyebrows rose in mock alarm. “I’ll bring the money with me. We can be after signing the papers there, if all is satisfactory.”

  Thorpe sat at the desk and sketched them a map. Then he looked up at them. “Noon tomorrow?”

  “Aye,” Drew said with satisfaction.

  “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Lord Kinloch.”

  “Indeed,” Drew said with more than a hint of condescension.

  Resentment flared briefly in Thorpe’s eyes but was quickly replaced with an expression of geniality. “If you settle in Texas, I would welcome your vote for me as governor,” he said.

  “Ah, yes,” Drew said noncommittally. “Elections,” he said with a sneer. “You Yanks do have strange customs.”

  Thorpe’s face reddened. But he managed a “Good day,” before taking his leave.

  Gabrielle stood beside Drew, holding her breath, until the sound of footsteps in the hall had disappeared. Then they looked at each other—and burst into laughter.

  “If two hundred thousand dollars doesn’t appeal to his avarice, nothing will,” Jud Merrill said as he stared at Thorpe’s map.

  “He’d been trying to be respectable,” Kane O’Brien argued. “He’ll be a fool to risk everything now.”

  “Ah, but a greedy man can’t resist a sure thing,” Ben said. “Kinloch has no friends. He has cash. And the law’s apparently looking for him. What better mark?”