The Tribute

by Beth Williamson

  “Now that wasn’t a very nice thing to do to your intended bridegroom.”

  He sounded annoyed. Good.

  “Neither is a beating or destroying someone’s property. Those were my clothes you ripped to shreds,” she snapped. “How about you leave now and I won’t tell the sheriff about it.”

  He laughed long and hard, the guffaws echoing off the bare chamber walls. “You think I’m going to leave and say sorry? I don’t think so. I warned you that you were mine. Mine, you bitch. You already spread your legs for that idiot. You’re lucky I’ll still allow you to be my wife.”

  Alex was astounded by his brazen twist on truth and reality. “You honestly believe I’ll marry you? After all this?”

  “Of course you will. You’re a smart woman, Alexandra. You see, you leave this room as my wife, or you don’t leave it alive. I gave your father that choice and he chose wrongly.”

  Oh, Papa.

  He smacked her on the buttocks so hard, it brought tears to her eyes. She tried to digest his words, but her heart refused to cooperate with the fact King had confessed to murdering her father. Her throat closed with a sob that resonated with agony.

  Not only had he killed her father, but either she married him or he’d kill her. It seemed as though she’d fallen into one of the novels she’d read. One where the main villain was insane and evil. King had showed the darkest side of himself, one that made Alex shudder in disgust. She’d never quite liked King, but she’d never been afraid of him until now.

  Alex closed her eyes and pictured Brett as he kissed her goodbye that morning.

  She’d whispered “I love you” in his ear. Instead of responding in kind, he kissed her neck and squeezed her tight. She could still smell his scent if she concentrated.

  “You understand me, woman?” King’s voice sliced through her thoughts.

  As she stared into his cold, ice blue eyes, the sound of a gun cocking behind her made her smile.

  “Mister, I don’t know who you are but if you touch Doc Brighton one more time I’m gonna shoot off your pecker. Turn around and leave.” Mason almost sounded like a man.

  “You heard him, get out.”

  King’s eyes blazed with fire and retribution, making her hackles rise, but she stood firm. He turned around and walked out of the house. Alex grabbed the repeating rifle from Mason.

  “Get the other one from behind the bedroom door.”

  He ran off and was back in seconds, rifle in hand. She nodded and they walked outside together. This time King had brought one man, that creepy one called Ford. They stood outside, talking quietly.

  Alex would do everything in her power to fight King and avoid being his wife, even if it meant her own death. The worst thing anyone could do was to give in to a bully.

  She would fight with every ounce of her strength. King had no idea what he was up against.

  ———

  Brett lassoed the cow and pulled her from the creek with Rusty’s help. Dumb thing had wandered in there then couldn’t get back up the embankment. At least it wasn’t mud. He shuddered at the memory of pulling cattle from the mud—like molasses and taffy with a thousand-pound bovine in the middle.

  As he dismounted, Brett thought he imagined Ug barking, but then it got louder. The cattle lowed and scattered a bit as the mutt came running across the pasture like his tail was on fire. Brett’s heart began to pound. Ug wouldn’t be away from the house unless something was wrong. He never left Alex except to play with the barn cat.

  Brett quickly pulled the lasso off the cow and sent her back with the others. Then he jumped up on Rusty and headed toward the dog. They met halfway with Kincaid close on Brett’s heels.

  “What is it, boy?”

  Ug barked and ran around in a circle.

  “Wasn’t this the dog that was almost dead three weeks ago?” Kincaid sounded impressed.

  “He had good doctors.” Brett watched in amazement as Ug ran ten yards away then stopped and looked back.

  Woof. Woof. Woof.

  Sure as hell sounded like “Come on you idiot!” to Brett. He wasn’t one to ignore his instincts and they were ringing loud.

  “I’m heading back to the house. Something’s wrong. Ug wouldn’t be out here if it wasn’t.” Brett started toward the dog and the mutt took off running, looking back to make sure Brett followed.

  Kincaid rode up beside him. “You think the dog is that smart?”

  “No, I know he’s that smart. He saved Alex’s life once already.” Brett had plenty of dogs in his life, but none of them compared to the scraggly mutt called Ug. He deserved a lifetime of the best food and all the bitches he wanted.

  The two men rode in silence, following the dog all the way back to the ranch. He found Alex and Mason both armed, facing down King.

  “You have two seconds, King,” she said with enough gumption for three women. “Get moving.”

  “You think a woman and a boy are going to make me do anything?”

  The shot startled everyone but Alex. King’s hat lay twenty feet away, with a huge damn hole in it. Brett couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. Damn, he never knew she had it in her.

  “Get going.”

  King looked as if he wanted to say something but instead he mounted his palomino and rode off, Ford at his heels.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Until the house could be cleaned thoroughly, every patient and visitor had to be greeted in the barn. Not exactly the ideal conditions for a doctor, but Alex didn’t complain. She knew it wouldn’t help matters. They were all on edge. For more reasons than one.

  Brett’s parents came by with extra blankets and food, and he accepted the help with a bit more ease than usual. Alex was proud of him for not gunning King down for what he’d done. He even had to convince Ray to let the law and the court handle King’s punishment.

  The sheriff examined everything and talked to Alex and Mason about what King said. Jim indicated it wouldn’t be enough to arrest him, but with some stronger evidence they could. Frustrated and angry, Brett, Noah and Kincaid spent twenty-four hours a day watching the herd. Waiting for the next attack.

  Matt Jamison, the attorney from Hawk’s Bend, came two days later. A thin, nervous-looking man with red hair and pale skin, he seemed completely intimidated by Brett’s quiet intensity.

  Alex sat between them on barrels in the barn. “Someone broke in two days ago,” she explained to the stranger. “We think it was King Dawson, the same man trying to force Brett off the Square One.”

  “I, uh, know who Mr. Dawson is.” He scratched at his starched collar and glanced at the papers Brett had given him. “I’m not sure there’s anything we can do to help you keep the ranch, Mr. Malloy.”

  Brett’s brows drew together in a fierce frown. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Matt shuffled the papers in his hand. “If Mr. Samson is the legal heir to the ranch, then you don’t have a case.”

  “Is there evidence that Mr. Samson is the legal heir?” Alex held Brett’s hand tightly. She didn’t know if it was for his sake or hers.

  “I’m sure there is.”

  Alex started to get the idea Matt was lying to them. Blatantly lying. Perhaps King or one of his henchmen had paid a visit to the young attorney and threatened him. She glanced at Brett and realized he’d come to the same conclusion.

  “I’m not going to get angry at you. You need to protect yourself the same as everyone, but I am going to tell you to leave. Now.” Brett kept his voice steady and even, but beneath the politeness lay a sharpness he couldn’t hide.

  Matt dropped the papers, he startled so bad. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Oh, yes you do.” Alex stood and put her hands on her hips. “Mr. Malloy asked you to leave. You can do him the courtesy of complying.”

  Matt looked between them, his mouth open but no words coming out.

  “King Dawson is a bully, Mr. Jamison. He bullies everyone and everything. You are just his latest
victim.” She walked toward the barn door and slid it open. “Thank you for your time.”

  With an apologetic look, the young man left the barn and she shut the door behind him.

  ———

  Francesca and Lily came to help clean the house. Brett was amazed by what three determined women could do together. After two days, the house didn’t smell like shit and piss anymore, but it lay empty.

  Brett had to order windows again, this time on credit, a situation that made him cringe. When he left Goodson’s store, he felt things couldn’t get much worse. He was wrong.

  “Brett, wait just a minute,” Harvey Brown called. He’d been taking care of the mail and telegrams for as long as Brett could remember. Harvey was blessed with snow white hair, a stooped back and sharp brown eyes with a ready smile.

  “I’ve got a letter for you, special delivery. Came from the county seat, it did. I thought I’d send someone out to give it to you but seeing how you’re here, it’d save a trip.” He handed Brett the thick vellum envelope. “Looks mighty important.”

  Brett stared at the envelope, thanked Harvey and wandered back to his horse, his gaze riveted on the impending news in his hand. The surprising taste of fear coated his tongue. The return address was the county courthouse.

  “Heavy reading there, little brother?” Ray stepped up beside him.

  “I think it’s about the ranch.” He continued to look at the envelope without even glancing at Ray.

  “Aren’t you going to open it?”

  Brett finally looked at Ray. He was holding a couple of tools he must have had the smithy make for him. In his eyes, Brett saw a reflection of his own concern over the contents of the envelope.

  “I can’t.”

  After dropping the iron tools on the ground, Ray held out his hand and Brett slowly put the envelope in it. With a quick twist, Ray pulled off the end of the envelope and had the paper unfolded. His eyes moved quickly over the words. Brett was about to burst with curiosity.

  “What does it say, dammit?”

  Ray folded the paper and put it back in the envelope. “You’ve got two days until the case is heard by Judge Harris right here in Cheshire.”

  Two days?

  “I…I don’t even have a lawyer, Ray. What the hell am I gonna do?” He couldn’t seem to get his breathing under control. Brett couldn’t lose the ranch, he just couldn’t.

  Ray took Brett by the shoulders, the envelope crinkling in his hand. “Take a breath and calm down.”

  Brett focused on his brother’s face instead of the sheer panic that threatened. His stomach had taken residence near his heart, and squeezed his lungs so tightly he could hardly get a breath in.

  “Listen to me, brother. We’ll get a lawyer for you, a good one. King just can’t take a ranch when he feels like it, especially one that belongs to a Malloy. Do you hear me?”

  “I hear you. I need help, Ray.” For the first time in his life, Brett had no qualms about asking for or receiving help. This wasn’t about pride or charity, it was about family and love. That’s all that mattered in life.

  Ray looked at Harvey, who hovered near the door to his little storefront. “Trevor has a friend in Cheyenne who helped Adelaide keep her saloon. Do you remember him?”

  Brett remembered him well. “Carson Foster. Kind of an odd man, but smart as hell.”

  “That’s the one. We need to wire Trevor and ask them both to come. Are you ready to do that?” Ray knew Brett and Trevor hadn’t spoken in nearly two months.

  The situation called for pride to be swallowed and lines to be crossed. Brett might not have done it a month ago. Hell, he might not have done it two weeks ago, but today was a different day. He had a woman he wanted to marry and a ranch he desperately wanted to keep.

  “Yes, I’m ready.” He glanced at his feet and took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

  “No need to thank me, little brother. Let’s get that telegram sent and see if we can’t beat King at his own game.” Ray clapped him on the shoulder.

  Brett nodded, eager to do something other than run around like a chicken with his head cut off. Ray always helped ground him even when he didn’t need it. A solid presence Brett was grateful for.

  After Ray picked up his tools, he and Brett walked toward Harvey, ignoring the old man’s denials that he didn’t hear anything they were talking about. However, he went straight to the telegraph machine and waited like an eager boy on Christmas.

  The reply came within an hour. It simply read, “We’ll be there tomorrow morning.” Brett’s telegram had been a bit vague, but he’d asked for help. It appeared Trevor was more than willing to give it. Now Brett had to figure out what to do when Trevor arrived.

  ———

  King drummed his fingers on his desk, staring out into the bright morning sunshine. Nothing had worked. Brett still squatted on the damn ranch and Alexandra refused to marry King. The situation was not to King’s liking. Definitely not.

  Ford stood beside the desk, polishing one of his pistols. He’d proven to be as ruthless as his reputation, and he took orders well. So far, King had not asked him to kill anyone, but that was about to change.

  “Malloy seems to be unmovable and we need to make him move. He’s fucking my woman. Probably gave her some kind of disease too so I won’t be able to get between her thighs without my dick falling off,” he groused. “What about the gunslinger?”

  Ford looked up. “Kincaid. I know him.”

  “Is he good?”

  “He’s good, but not as good as me.”

  King pursed his lips and did his best to control the anger threatening to explode. “Get rid of him.”

  Ford put his gun back in its holster. “Understood. Do you want folks to know it was me or you want it in the dark?”

  “Kill him out on the street. Make sure he doesn’t get up again. I want Malloy to lose his gun, then I can kill him and get my woman and the land. As soon as you find him, send word.” King’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t fuck this up, Ford, or I’ll kill you myself.”

  One pale eyebrow rose, but the gunslinger didn’t respond. Instead, he turned and left the room. King couldn’t wait to ride into town for the show.

  ———

  Trevor and Carson arrived shortly after breakfast the next morning. Brett was standing outside drinking coffee when he saw them. The morning sun rose behind them, so he was unsure if the visitors were friend or foe until he saw the horse. No mistaking Trevor’s horse Silver. Brett’s stomach cramped and the coffee felt like it boiled down deep inside him. It had always been the two of them like peas in a pod. One bright, the other dark, a perfect complement. Now they’d damaged their relationship and Brett wasn’t sure it could be repaired.

  Trevor smiled as he rode up. “Good morning, big brother. Got any of that coffee left?”

  Brett’s eyebrows shot up. “Sure thing. Pot’s right over there on the fire.”

  Carson Foster was a blond man with gray eyes who seemed even quieter than Brett, if that was possible. He dismounted and nodded, then walked over to the coffee. Trevor stayed behind, fiddling with his mount’s reins.

  “I was kind of hoping you’d come to Cheyenne to see me when everyone else did.”

  Brett forced himself to swallow a gulp of the scalding brew. “Wasn’t sure you wanted me there.”

  Trevor slapped his hands with the leather. “Why not? You’re my brother, Brett, even if you tried to steal my woman.”

  Brett didn’t bother to deny it. Trevor had left Adelaide when she most needed him. She was a wonderful woman, beautiful, smart, sassy. Brett had entertained the notion of courting her, but never did. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Sort of.

  “I didn’t try to steal her.” He held up a hand to forestall Trevor’s mouth from running. “But I did think about it. And for that I’m sorry. You’re my brother and I should have respected your feelings for her.”

  Trevor looked as surprised as Brett felt. He didn’t know that was what he was going to sa
y until he said it. Alex was turning him into a mushy mess.

  “I accept your apology. You were invited, in fact, you’re always invited.” Trevor grinned and held out his hand.

  Brett appeared to be possessed by unnamed forces again because he hugged Trevor. Enthusiastically. He was definitely turning soft.

  As if he’d conjured her, Alex appeared just as they stepped away from each other. “All better now?”

  “Alex!” Trevor picked her up and twirled her around. “It’s good to see my favorite doc. How are you?”

  “I was good until now. You’d better stop unless you want to have my breakfast too.” She laughed until he set her down.

  “You hanging around this fool brother of mine?”

  She put her arm through Brett’s and squeezed. “Yes, I sure am.”

  Brett put his hand over hers. “This one’s taken.”

  Trevor threw back his head and laughed. “So am I.”

  Within an hour, the rest of the family gathered at the Square One to review the plan for saving the ranch. They surrounded him, giving him strength and courage and love. Brett had been grateful when they helped build his barn, but this…this was so much more and Brett was not only thankful but proud to be a Malloy. Kincaid was decidedly absent from the group. Whenever family gathered, he turned into a ghost.

  Brett filled them in on everything that had happened the last three weeks. When he revealed the revelation that King had killed Byron, shock and anger erupted. Lots of shouting and cussing, along with disbelief.

  “Why the hell did he kill Byron?”

  “My guess is King tried to force Byron into making Alex marry him. He’s been asking her to marry him for years,” Ray offered.

  “For years?” Brett had a hard time believing that.

  “Yes, years. She’s told me about it before.”

  How the hell did Ray know about King asking Alex to marry him when Brett didn’t? Had he been living with blinders on that long? He’d known King had been visiting her, but he’d had no idea about King trying to get Alex to marry him. King had already had two wives, why did he want Alex? Brett felt like an idiot. A humbling moment to be sure. He didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t embarrass him.