“Copies of cash withdrawal slips for two thousand dollars and twenty-five thousand. The first occurred the day before Ed was beat up leaving Mel’s Bar and Grill, and the other the day before he disappeared from Beaverhill. Oh. I forgot,” she said, pointing in the banker’s direction, “Mr. Prater withdrew the money from accounts he has in an Ames bank.”
“So what?” Prater screamed, turning deep red. “I spend money like everyone else.”
“That’s a lot of cash purchases, my friend,” Ben declared. Tipping back in his chair, he appeared bemused. “I wonder how many folks here in town know the president of their local bank keeps large sums of money in a competitor bank in another town. Is that all, Maggie?”
“I know what you’re trying to do,” Prater rasped, sitting back in his chair.
The man all of sudden looked too relaxed. Maggie worried.
“You can’t prove a damn thing, or we wouldn’t be sitting here. Where’s the cops?”
Determined to ignore Prater’s remarks, Maggie spoke up, “There is also a handwritten signed note from a Mr. Sonny Burdette explaining that he and Mark Fellows did not kill Ed Harrington. They were paid by Prater to rough him up, drug him and deposit him in Chicago. The note says if Harrington is dead, then Prater paid someone else to do it, or he did it himself.”
Pressing his hands against his chest, Prater cried out, “I didn’t kill him. They weren’t supposed to kill him. Oh, my God.” The man sobbed. “I’m not a murderer. I’m not a murderer.”
“But you did burn down the barn,” Maggie said calmly, “and you could have killed Ed and me then.”
Prater’s eyes glazed over before he responded, “Yes, yes. It was a glorious fire. Stupendous. I was only trying to frighten you off the land.”
Prater looked at Ben and his voice went flat. “Every time it looked like she might have to sell, that dumb horse trainer showed up. If we could have gotten rid of him, everything would have been fine.”
“You still don’t understand that by burning down my barn you were also attempting murder,” Maggie said, clenching her hands in her lap. “Ed and I were in the loft when you set the fire.”
“If you were a decent woman, you wouldn’t have been up there. If you hadn’t been whoring around in the first place, none of this would have happened.”
Ignoring the shrill verbal slap, Maggie asked, “Why me, Mr. Prater? My farm isn’t huge. It’s worth something, but certainly more to me than to you.”
Maggie retreated back in her chair in the face of the man’s sneer.
“The land! That’s all you can think about, is the land,” he accused. “The land didn’t have anything to do with it. Your mother, the bitch.”
Maggie gasped, wanting to close her ears but needing to listen.
“It was all about her treachery.” Prater dropped his jaw to his chest and mumbled, “She threw me over for that no-account Colt Magee.”
Hearing the disbelief in his voice, Maggie realized that Prater’s romantic wounds were as fresh today as they must have been decades earlier. His hysterical laugh gnawed at her soul.
“You’re a spittin’ image of her, and apparently just like her. Giving your body to any boy who could get it up. Married right out of high school. You should’ve done better than that.”
The man sobbed bitterly. “You could’ve been my daughter.”
The vacant pain in the banker’s eyes chilled Maggie to the bone. Had her mother slept with the creep? She sure hoped not. She glanced quickly at Ben. He shook his head in response. They needed to hear Prater’s story now that he was talking. Sorting out details would have to wait. Maggie sucked in her breath and tried to stay focused on what the banker was saying.
“No man would’ve been good enough for my daughter. My daughter would never have lusted like a common tramp. But not you,” he yelled, pointing accusingly at Maggie, “you lusted for the land, and then for that vagabond horse trainer, and then for horses. You knew no boundaries, no decorum, no morality.”
Maggie blanched under his tirade, but otherwise remained calm. How could his mind have twisted everything so? Everything she loved he tried to make dirty.
Looking furtively about the room, Prater continued, “Can’t you see? I did it all for you. To save you from others and from yourself.” He shivered a deep sigh, winding down like a seven day clock. “You should have been satisfied living alone. Like me.”
The door to the adjoining room opened. Ed Harrington and Clint Travers entered quickly.
Looking grim, Ed moved directly to stand by Maggie. “I think we’ve heard enough,” he said. Maggie stood. His wide open arms encircled her.
“He’s not dead!” Prater gasped, pointing at Harrington. “He’s not dead,” he reiterated, as if trying to convince himself and forestall a dawning of his mind. He paused. The silence hung like an early morning fog.
Glaring at Ben, Prater rose and bellowed, “You tricked me! This is entrapment. None of this will hold up in court.” More smugly, he added, “So much for this entire show, this charade. I’ve heard enough.”
Clint stepped between the banker and the exit. “Oh, it will hold up all right. We’re not law officers. We can hardly be accused of entrapment. But the sheriff should be coming in any moment now. Eye witness reports of what transpired here along with the tape of the meeting should go a considerable ways to getting you behind bars—a prison or a mental institution.”
Letting go of Maggie, Ed stepped across to confront Prater. The banker stumbled back into his chair, where he sat cowering under Ed’s steady gaze.
“You seem to have done everything in your power to destroy a lot of folks, including me,” Ed said. “Looks like the only person you destroyed was yourself. Before they take you away, I have something of yours.”
Reaching into his back pocket, he retrieved an envelope. “Don’t quite know how you’ll spend it where you’re going, but I certainly have no use for it. Maybe you should learn that not everyone can be bought or frightened.”
Snickering, Prater grabbed the envelope. “You’re wrong. Everyone has a price. I just didn’t go high enough for you. I mistook you for a cheap hustler when you were playing a higher stakes game with the pure Ms. Anderson, one worthy of a top drawer con man.”
Ed grabbed the banker by his suit lapels and held him off the floor before Clint could intervene. “Drop him,” Clint demanded. “He’s not worth it. A man who kills cats isn’t worth your getting into trouble with the law.”
“You’re right,” Ed responded, shoving Prater back into his chair. “Vermin is vermin whether at the track, in the city, or in a small town. If you get too close to them, you risk starting to smell like them.”
Sadly, Maggie watched the sheriff lead his handcuffed brother-in-law off to jail. She wondered how Prater could carry so much hate for such a long time. What had snapped? Why had he chosen this year to come after her land in such a blatant manner? It had started before the arrival of Harrington, although the trainer had upset Prater’s plans. Was the trigger simply the terribly hot summer? She doubted she’d ever really know.
Maggie moved to Ed. He hugged her tightly. Even in the excessively heated room, Maggie had been chilly ever since Prater had arrived. Now she warmed up in her lover’s arms. Ed kissed the top of her head.
“You know,” he said, “we may at last be free to walk around without wondering who is going to knock us over the head next.”
Smiling in agreement, Ben stood to shake hands all around. “Now tell me. I’m curious. How much of what Maggie said was true, and how much of it was speculation?”
“The bank slips and sales slips were real enough,” Clint offered. “Our man in the field was quite certain that Burdette and Fellows were the thugs that Prater hired. While they wouldn’t admit it, they were reported as bragging about making some big money in Iowa by simply transporting somebody out of town. They claimed they didn’t even have to maim or kill the guy.”
“So Prater confessed to more than w
e actually knew?”
“Yep,” Ed replied. “In the note Maggie read, she indicated that Burdette and Fellows claimed not to have killed me. If I had been killed, then Prater did it himself or hired someone else to do it. I’m sure Prater was too distraught by that point to distinguish the word if.”
“Well, it worked. Well done.” Ben walked over to the coat tree and put on his coat. “Don’t expect I’ve had so much fun in a long time. Think I’ll go home for the rest of the day. This is too much excitement for an old man like me. Hope your life settles down some now, Maggie.”
“Settle down sounds real fine to me,” Maggie concurred, placing a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Thanks for everything, Ben. Thanks for trusting this little game without having all the facts.”
Ben laughed. “I’m glad I didn’t know what was coming, or what was true or not. I didn’t have to worry about giving anything away to that shrewd bastard. The nerve of him, trying to take on Colt Magee’s daughter.”
- o -
The next afternoon, after the Travers returned to Chicago, Maggie and Ed walked through the stable reacquainting Ed with each of the horses. Each came to him like greeting an old friend. Smells of liniment, horse sweat, manure, straw and hay massaged his nostrils. Breathing deeply, Ed knew he was home.
With his arm around Maggie, Ed fought back tears. She stopped and hugged him tight. “Life is pretty good, isn’t it?” she whispered.
“I don’t know how it could get any better,” he mumbled.
“You’ve been though a lot on my account,” she murmured into his work shirt.
“Hah,” he groaned. “Where would I be if I hadn’t?”
“I think it may be time to focus on the future rather than the past,” Maggie said, pulling away from him to sit on a bale of hay.
Ed joined her. “There hasn’t been much time for us since I’ve been back. The Travers are great, but they are company, and then we had to move quickly to snare Prater before he had a chance to get wind of my return.” Cupping her chin, he said, “I’ve missed you,” then brushed his lips lightly across hers.
Her tongue wetted his lips. “Can you ever forgive me for doubting you?” she asked, holding her breath.
“There’s nothing to forgive. Given the same information you had, I likely would have assumed the same thing.”
“It still gnaws at me that my daughter and brother could see things more clearly than me.”
“They weren’t as emotionally hooked as you were.” Grinning, he added, “Even teenagers and brothers can be sources of wisdom at times.”
“Well, you might not want to share that thought around the kids until they turn old and gray.”
“Maggie,” Ed said seriously, turning to face the woman he loved, “I never had the chance to tell you why I went to Des Moines that day back in November.”
Reaching into his pocket, Ed pulled out a small jewelry box. “This is yours, if you’ll accept it; if you’ll accept me. I love you, Maggie. I always will.”
With quivering fingers, Maggie lifted the lid. Her mouth fell open. “Oh, my goodness,” she squealed. “It’s beautiful. The engagement ring was a simple gold band with a striking diamond at its center. Next to it was cradled a wedding ring with a row of three diamonds set off at either end by tiny sapphire stones matching the color of her eyes. “This is too much,” she whimpered.
“Then you don’t want it—you don’t want me?”
Maggie made a croaking sound. “No, no! I love the rings. I love you. Forever, I want you. I’m just not used to wearing such gorgeous things.”
“Well, you better get used to it, woman,” Ed teased, “You can’t walk around Keeneland or Barretts looking like a pauper. Maggie, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met—inside and out. You are the most beautiful thing to ever happen to me. Please get used to wearing beautiful things, at least now and then. I don’t want you to give up working with the horses, though.”
“No need to worry about that,” Maggie chuckled, moving to sit on his lap. “I want to be right next to you, mucking stalls, buying horses, training them, watching them run. And I want to look beautiful for my handsome husband. I want you to be proud of your wife.”
“I couldn’t be more proud. You battled and fought hard for this land, and you won.”
“Yes, but I was ready to give up after the fire. If it hadn’t been for you and the children, I don’t know what I might have done.” Maggie shuddered.
“That’s the past, again. I like the idea of you being by my side and me being by yours.” Ed grinned broadly. “Not only in the stable and at the track, but at the breakfast table, in the shower, and in our bed.”
“Ah,” Maggie moaned, kissing his chin and the corners of his mouth. “That breakfast table certainly has more possibilities than I ever imagined before you came along. I look forward to so much that I feel like I’m going to burst. Do you think that dark cloud over us has actually moved on?”
“I believe it has,” Ed said, scooping her into his muscled arms. Carrying her toward the house, he wondered when the kids would be home from school.
EPILOGUE
Resting on her knees, Maggie watched proudly as her husband rubbed his hands all over the tiny body of the newborn filly. Her coat was as dark as coal. The animal wobbled on miniature feet and legs. Her mother, Midnight Dancer, accepted Ed’s presence and had been cooperative throughout the birth. Carolyn had been inside the box stall assisting Ed during those critical birthing moments. The teenager continued beaming proudly as she now knelt beside Maggie, observing closely everything Ed was doing and how the foal responded to him.
He had told them that these first minutes and hours after birth were very critical for the foal’s future. Just as it was important for the mare to bond with her offspring, it was also vital that the foal bond with human touch. That bond would make the eventual training process much more manageable. The foal would more likely become a trusting yearling and two-year-old because of the time now spent. Ed had told them that what they were watching was called imprinting.
Glancing to her left, Maggie smiled at Johnny, who had finally succumbed to sleep. It was three in the morning. Horses seldom birthed at a more suitable hour for humans, she’d been informed. With eyes bulging, Johnny had watched as Ed and his sister assisted the mare in giving birth. And then he’d giggled when the newborn attempted to stand. First, the little foal tried accomplish that task by resting on her front knees and raising her butt. Then she tried the opposite. After several false attempts, with the aid of her mother giving a push from behind, the foal stood on seemingly matchstick-sized legs. Looking around at her brand new world, her large soft brown eyes expressed curiosity and eagerness. Maggie had been glad to see that they evidenced no fear.
As her son snored softly and her daughter watched intently, Maggie hugged herself, pleased with her life and with sharing this special moment with her loved ones. A late January snowstorm howled outside the stable, but inside there was warmth and contentment.
Maggie nodded in agreement as she read the words formed and whispered on Ed’s lips while he rubbed the foal’s belly: “This is what it’s all about.”
The stable oozed awe and love. This was far better than their planned honeymoon could ever have been. Not that she still didn’t look forward to it, and to a time to be completely alone with the man she loved. But there was something unparalleled about helping bring new life into the world. It was like watching a dream come to reality.
They’d been right to postpone the honeymoon. Midnight Dancer wasn’t supposed to foal for another month or so, but Ed had detected signs that she would be earlier than expected. Horses, like women, weren’t always predictable, he’d explained. She remembered his joshing and she smiled. He’d no more leave a horse that needed him than she would leave the land.
Prater was wrong. His obsession with the Magee farm was not simply about being jilted by a young love. It was very much wrapped up in the land, since her mom had
chosen another man with whom to share her life who also had valued the land as much as she had. As much as her mom’s mother and dad had. As much as her grandmother and grandfather had. Prater never understood that he could not have measured up because he failed to possess that indefinable affinity for the land and the values it embodied. Her mother would have settled for no less than that.
As Maggie watched Ed, she knew that she, too, had found a kindred spirit. Just then the little filly whinnied and stared directly at Maggie.
“Oh you’re so loveable, little one,” Maggie murmured, her eyes growing watery. How long before she’d know for sure? Another month? Maggie shook her head. It might be another month before she’d tell anyone, but she already knew for sure. She could feel it in her bones; she was pregnant.
It was not difficult at all for Maggie to imagine that before the year was out, her family would gather around her bed to welcome a new member into its midst. Bonding was something experienced often on the land; it never became old or routine.
Maggie winked at Midnight Dancer, envying her for the moment. The mare snorted softly, as if to acknowledge the hope and pride of mothers.
The End
About the Author
Adriana Kraft is the pen name for a husband/wife team writing sizzling romantic suspense and erotic romance. The award-winning pair has published over thirty erotic romance novels and novellas to outstanding reviews. Long and Short Reviews: “scorching hot…refreshing...something to read when you want straight up hotness.” Romance Junkies: “filled with warmth, blazing hot sex, well-developed characters…not for the faint of heart.” Romantic pairings include straight m/f, lesbian, bisexual, ménage and polyamory, in both contemporary and paranormal settings.
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