He got only two steps before coming to a dead halt. A man lay prone on the floor before what he knew to be Anne’s room. Darcy turned to his foreman, the obvious question on his face.
“Not me,” said Fitz. “The shot came from inside the bedroom. He fell as if someone shot him in the back.”
“Who’s there?” came an uneven female voice from the bedroom.
“Annie! It’s Will! I’m here with help!”
“Will!” the woman screamed. Darcy and the others ran forward, stepping over the body and into the bedroom. There, against the far wall, was a terrified Anne Burroughs. There was another person in the room, or rather, in her closet, a smoking double-barreled shotgun in his trembling hands.
“Bartholomew!” Darcy cried, hands up in the air. “Don’t shoot! It’s me!”
“Mr. Darcy. Oh, thank God! Thank God you’ve come.” The aged butler lowered his weapon as Anne dashed over to support him.
Anne spoke as the two made their way to a chair, Darcy helping them. “He… he was trying to get in… We heard gunshots… We hid. Mother? What happened to Mother? Is Mother all right?”
Darcy struggled to speak, but it wasn’t necessary—his face told all. Anne went white, and Darcy had to hold up his distraught cousin as Bartholomew half-fell into a chair. It would be some moments before Darcy could leave the room. He found the others looking at the dead man, his body showing the results of taking a load of buckshot at close range.
Sheriff Lucas looked around. “You think this is the only intruder?”
“Why don’t you go find out, you old fool?” Fitzwilliam spat.
Darcy sighed. Well, that good feeling didn’t last long. “Why don’t you and the others check out the house, Sheriff? Fitz, you go with him. I’ll stay here with… who is it, Fitz?”
Fitz turned the dead man’s face to the side. “Pyke. It’s Pyke.” Fitz stood and, sharing a relatively friendly look with Lucas, set off down the hallway.
Fifteen minutes later, the group assembled in the study, Darcy taking care that Anne did not look into the dining room. There were signs that the room had been ransacked, but Catherine’s safe was still locked.
“If I had to venture a guess,” Lucas said, “it seems Pyke ki… er, did away with the others before he came in here, lookin’ for money. He must’ve been panicked, seeing how he, umm… did that,” he gestured toward the dining room, “afore he come in here. He didn’t get the combination first. Stupid.”
Darcy grimaced. He knew the oaf was trying not to upset Anne, yet he kept talking anyway.
Anne stopped sobbing into a handkerchief. “We… we heard arguing before two gunshots. That’s what gave Bartholomew time to get a gun and get me in my room. That man… came up after a few minutes, shouting for money, saying I’d be all right if I did as he said. But I didn’t believe him. He broke in the door—Bartholomew was in the closet—I thought that man was going to kill me.”
“I wasn’t hiding,” the butler said in his usual unperturbed manner, now that he had time to compose himself. “I was trying to ‘get the drop on him,’ I think it’s called. Mr. Fitzwilliam’s distraction was most timely.”
Darcy walked over to shake Bartholomew’s hand. “I don’t know how to thank you. You saved Anne’s life for sure.”
A flicker of emotion passed in the butler’s eyes. “Seeing to Miss Anne has always been more than my duty, Mr. Darcy. She’s been, well, like the daughter I’ll never have. I only ask to go with her wherever she lives.”
“I can assure you of that,” Darcy promised him. He then ordered Fitz and the others to prepare a wagon for Anne and Bartholomew. He knew he needed to get them out of the house as soon as possible—and inform the undertaker he had more business ahead.
“My God,” breathed Tom Bennet as he and Darcy shared a drink in the study at the Bennet farm. “What will happen to Miss Anne now?”
Darcy sat in an armchair across from the farmer, Beth seated next to him, holding one of his hands in hers. “I don’t know. We’ve sent her to Pemberley, she and Bartholomew both, and Charles is seeing to her. She’s got a home with me as long as she wants. I don’t know what’s to become of her, except I can’t figure she’d ever want to go back to the B&R.”
“Will Charles be able to do anything for her?” asked Beth.
“I don’t know, sweetheart. I guess he’ll give her something to help her sleep. That’ll help tonight, but tomorrow and afterwards? At least Charles has been able to report that Ethan was out of danger.”
Bennet glanced at Samuel’s photograph, a bullet hole next to it. “Death of a loved one is never easy. If we can help in any way, just call on us.” He took a sip of his whiskey. “I heard there was a run on Rosings Bank.”
Darcy nodded. “Everybody heard about the shootout here and that Collins was involved. The bank’s cash couldn’t make good on the claims and Rosings failed. Sheriff Lucas had to close the place by one in the afternoon, which didn’t make the folks still in line too happy.” He looked at Bennet. “Don’t you worry, Tom. I’ll make good on any money you had in there.”
Bennet put down his glass. “Son, you don’t have to do that. You’ve done so much already.”
Darcy grunted. “Forgive me, but my promise isn’t just for you. I’m going to make good for everybody. You see, Anne was Cate’s only heir, and like I said, she’s got no use for either the B&R or Rosings. We’ll work out a deal—sell land or cattle, pledge future income, something—and use that to settle with everyone.”
“But won’t Miss Anne lose everything?”
Darcy sighed. “She might, but she’s got family back east. We’ll see. As for the landowners that were forced into foreclosure, we’ll try to give them their land back.”
Beth thought about that. “Most of those folks have moved on. How are you going to let them know about their property?”
“We’ll send letters after them, or to their next of kin. If we get no reply after several years, we’ll sell the land and put the money in trust for them or keep the land untouched—a park for the people.”
Bennet eyed his future son-in-law. “You’ve done a bit of thinking about this.”
Darcy shrugged. “Yes, well, I had to do something waiting for the undertaker to show up at the B&R.”
Beth shuddered. “That’s pretty cold, son,” Bennet observed.
“Well, you didn’t hear what I did. Annie’s been talking. A quiet one, that Anne. Apparently she overheard a great deal sneakin’ around the house like she did. Didn’t tell anybody ’til now, ’cause she was afraid she’d lose whatever affection Cate had for her. She was scared Cate would throw her out of the house. Now, I ask you, what kind of mother would instill that much fear in her only child?
“Cate had been up to her eyeballs in Whitehead’s plans. Knew all about the railroad and stealing the land from the homesteaders. ’Course, Cate didn’t have any idea that Whitehead and Collins were double-crossing her. And while she didn’t know what Denny planned for the Washingtons beforehand, Cate wasn’t all that upset over the murders. Know what she said when she heard about the lynching? According to Anne, Cate said, ‘Serves them right—they should have stayed in Louisiana where their kind belongs.’ God forgive me, but it’s kind of hard to grieve over a woman like that.”
Mrs. Bennet walked through the open study door and spoke to the subdued group. “Will, dear, I’ve got some food on. You’re welcome to stay.”
Darcy got to his feet, shaking his head, and Beth got up with him, still holding his hand. “Thank you kindly, Miz Fanny, but I’ve got to get back to Pemberley. I’m sure Gaby’s ready to pitch a fit about now. Besides, I’ve got to see how Anne’s making out.” Darcy received a kiss on the cheek from his future mother-in-law, took his leave of Bennet, and allowed Beth to walk him out of the house to his horse. Before he climbed on his steed, he held Beth close in his arms and the two shared a long, slow kiss.
Will pulled back with a dazed look on his face. “Now, Beth, you keep that
up, and I’m not likely to leave.”
Beth smirked. “Is that so, cowboy? Maybe we should do that again.”
Darcy ran his thumbs along her jaw line, sending chills through his fiancée. “Soon, darlin’. Soon we’ll be married, and I won’t have to say goodbye ever again. You will marry me soon, won’t you?”
Beth nodded. “As soon as I learn all that Catholic stuff—all that kneeling and bowing and prayer beads.”
One of Darcy’s eyebrows rose up to his hair line. “Kneeling and bowing and prayer beads? If I didn’t know better, I swear you’ve been talking to Fitz.”
Beth just smiled and kissed him. A moment later, she watched Darcy and Caesar make their way down the lane towards the main road and Pemberley.
Chapter 22
Two days later, a company of cavalry from Fort Richardson under the command of Captain Buford arrived in response to Sheriff Lucas’s telegram. Buford immediately held a court of inquiry, and after a couple of hours of testimony, took Sally Younge, Billy Collins, and the surviving members of Denny’s gang into federal custody. As there was no longer a magistrate in Long Branch County, the prisoners were transferred to Fort Richardson to await trial by a traveling circuit judge. The evidence being irrefutable and the victims notable, the verdicts were never in doubt. All were convicted on conspiracy to commit fraud. Collins and the other men were also found guilty of conspiracy to commit murder. The only thing that saved the malefactors from the noose was that it could not be proven beyond a reasonable doubt that any had participated in the deaths of Mrs. Burroughs, Judge Phillips, or the Washingtons. Twenty years in prison for all was the sentence handed down.
As it turned out, neither Collins nor Younge would serve a full year in jail. Collins had managed to offend so many of his fellow inmates with his disdainful and aggravating ways that it was impossible to know which one had the strongest motivation to stick a handmade knife into his ribs one evening after dinner. He was buried in the prison cemetery next to so many others who had sought the easy way to riches by stealing from their fellow man.
Sally Younge was like a cat, always landing on her feet. Using her best talents—seduction and manipulation—she was able to corrupt an official of the women’s prison into allowing her escape. She fled into the expanses of the west and all trace of her was lost. A legend arose that she made her way to the mining towns of the Rocky Mountains, and under an assumed name captured the attentions of a newly rich mine owner. It was said that the couple moved to Denver where she became one of the matrons of society. It was a nice story, fit for penny novels, but no one knew if it was true.
In the tragic circumstances that Catherine Burroughs had helped create, the B&R was finally reunited with Pemberley, but not in the way she had imagined. Anne wanted nothing to do with the legacy left to her and signed away her rights to the vast ranch to Darcy as soon as she could. Texas held too many painful memories for the girl, and in the spring of 1872 at the train station in Fort Worth, her family and friends waved goodbye as Anne Burroughs began her journey to a new life with her Matlock relations in New York City, her elderly faithful servant Bartholomew right behind, carrying her satchel. He would care for the heiress for years until he grew too old to serve her, when they changed positions and Anne would see to his comfort for the rest of his life.
Anne’s was not the only departure from Rosings. Lily was welcomed back into the Bennet family, but there was no way she could remain with them. Everyone in town knew what had happened to her, so it was an intolerable situation. Tearfully, her parents sent her to live with the Gardiners in St. Louis, where no one would ever know her history. Letters from Missouri would report that she had been established as a salesgirl in the family store, a task for which she proved very well suited. In the years to come, she would catch the eye of a young bank clerk, and it was hoped by her family in Texas that Lily would find her happiness someday.
Mary Bennet would find her happiness in the aftermath of the assault. Three days after the attack on the Bennet farm, Tom Bennet found a nervous Henry Tilney in his study, stuttering his request for Mary’s hand in marriage. The request was not unexpected, and it was in Bennet’s character to use such a moment as an excuse to tease, but given all the horror they had experienced, his heart was not in it. Instead, he surprised the young preacher by embracing him, welcoming Henry into the family. As the courtship had been of some duration, a wedding date two weeks hence was settled on. Mrs. Bennet could not be happy with it, for there was no time for a new dress to be ordered or made, but she bowed to her daughter’s desire. Mary gave not a fig for finery—she only wanted to be Mrs. Henry Tilney and to be so as soon as practical.
Darcy would manage the B&R Ranch for the benefit of the victims of Whitehead and Cate Burroughs, using the profits to pay back the landowners and holders of claims against the now-defunct Rosings Bank. To run the place, renamed Rosings Ranch, Darcy appointed Richard Fitzwilliam as executive manager. José Estrada was promoted to take Fitz’s place as Pemberley foreman.
Fitz may have been in charge of the ranch, but no one was going to be living in the house. One night soon after the battle, someone—a disgruntled Rosings Bank customer, it was thought—set the abandoned mansion ablaze. It would be over an hour before the people from town would arrive, and there was nothing they could do once they got there, the firefighting equipment being inadequate, except watch the place burn to the ground.
This chain of events would have an interesting effect on the lives of Fitz and his beloved Charlotte. A few nights after the appointment, the couple, hand in hand, confronted Sheriff Lucas, announcing their intention to marry. Instead of the expected explosion, a grim Lucas asked a simple question.
“Fitzwilliam, will my girl ever go hungry?”
Stunned by the question, it took a moment before Fitz could answer.
“No, never. I stake my life on it.”
Lucas’s bleak expression gave way to one of resignation and grief. “Then you have my permission. Take care of my baby girl.”
The couple shared an incredulous look. Charlotte said gently, “Paw, I think you ought to know we were thinking of living here, in the house, with you, if that’s all right.”
The tears that had formed in the older man’s eyes flowed freely as he responded, “That… that would be fine. I’d be glad for the company. Mighty glad indeed…” He broke down as the couple rushed to embrace him.
As improvements needed to be made on the house, the wedding would not take place until mid-January. The event would not be as bittersweet as many feared, as it seemed that Fitz and Lucas had settled most of their differences. But if anyone thought that there would be smooth sailing in the Fitzwilliam/ Lucas household, they would be wrong. Two stubborn men were bound to butt heads from time to time, and if Lucas and Fitz were good at anything, it was arguing with each other.
Still, they were united in their love for Charlotte and fear of her displeasure. In the crisis, Charlotte had found her own strength, and she was no longer afraid to express it. It was surprising indeed for the town to learn that Sheriff Lucas could be henpecked, but there was soon no question that Mrs. Fitzwilliam was the person who ruled that household. Fitz would have no complaints—he knew best how to please his wife—and within a few years the yard about the house was filled with their children.
With one wedding in November and another in January, it was easy for Beth and William to settle on mid-December. Mrs. Bennet was happy that at least one of her daughters would not be married in her Sunday best, but she was confused by Beth’s intention of becoming Catholic. Wasn’t her brother-in-law’s church good enough, she had asked.
Beth smiled and kindly, yet firmly, said, “Mother, when I marry Will, I will have to promise to God that I will raise my children in the Catholic faith. I will not be a different religion from my children. I hope you can see that.”
So on a bright December Sunday morning, Elizabeth Bennet, dressed in a new white dress, received First Communion and was co
nfirmed into the Roman Catholic Church. Five days later, wearing the same dress, she again walked down the aisle of the Santa Maria Catholic Mission chapel, this time to become Mrs. William Darcy. Her intended stood tall and still, his white shirt gleaming against his black suit. His face was impassive, as was his wont when he was emotional, his fiancée now knew. She had only to gaze into his intense blue eyes to see the fireworks of happiness that his demeanor masked. To help set aside the terrors of the months past, the various families had decided to make the three weddings a town event, so it was standing room only as Father Joseph proclaimed the couple man and wife, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, and prayed that God’s peace would descend upon the people of Rosings.
Epilogue
May, 1873
Two men on horseback stood in the shade of a single oak tree atop a ridge on Pemberley. A tall man in a black vest was astride a black Arabian, the man’s tan ten-gallon hat nodding as his companion spoke. He was of a slightly shorter stature, sitting on a brown horse, and wearing a black hat with a silver hatband. As they talked they gazed over the sea of prairie before them, dotted with hundreds of cattle, lowing and grazing. They were not alone; a handful of wranglers carefully moved their cowponies around the vast herd, keeping an eye out for trouble.
There was an unfamiliar sound on the breeze—that of construction from across the river. The taller of the two men gestured in that direction.
“Soon, Fitz,” said William Darcy, owner of Pemberley Ranch, “soon the railroad will be through the town, the stockyard will be built, and we won’t have to drive our cattle to Kansas ever again. I reckon you’re looking forward to that.”
“That’s for certain, Will,” answered Richard Fitzwilliam, manager of Rosings Ranch. “Ten more days and it’s the last roundup. I just hope I can get back afore Charlotte has the baby.”
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