The Grandmaster's Legacy (HOT Historical Suspense, Box Set)

by Taylor Lee

  Wyatt nodded politely, but didn’t speak to anyone. The crowd separated as he walked in. He wore tight pants and a blue and grey checkered shirt open at the neck. His customary black cowboy hat was tipped back at an angle. His easy powerful gait, strong muscular body, and casual clothes all spoke to the authenticity of who he was—a Wyoming rancher and businessman.

  He walked up to Grant with a half smile and a twinkle in his eye. “Heard you were having a party, Grant. Also heard there’s free beer. Hell, that’s something I can support.”

  The crowd laughed. A buzz of excitement flickered around the room. For the first time, there was a level of interest, a sense this meeting could be interesting, after all. The physical comparison between the two men was striking. And, damnit, Grant thought, not to his benefit. Christ, he mused, Clarence is right. I need to get some of those boots with a built in lift. No way with any authority can I confront a guy who is six inches taller! Christ, especially when he had to tip his head back to look him in the eye.

  Determined to claim the offensive, Grant smiled his most unctuous smile., “Drink up, Wyatt. I’m always pleased to buy a beer for a friend. Especially one who has the good political sense you do.”

  Eager to taunt him in front of the crowd, Grant plastered an insincere grin on his face. His chest tightened with anticipation.

  “Tell me, Wyatt, which of the stellar candidates who has thrown his hat in the ring to contest me have you decided to support? Is it gonna be Slem Phillips? Or are you throwing your support to Pete Carter? Hell, Wyatt, either one of them could use your help. From what I hear, Slem’s hardware store went broke this year, and Pete’s ranch has gone to hell. Why not put all those management skills to work running Wyoming, right? Or maybe you’re hankering to fund Dickey Peters. I hear he is graduating to long pants in a month or so. At least he’d be a fresh face, right Wyatt?”

  Good natured chuckles and some downright mean-spirited laughter greeted Grant’s analysis of the competition. Goaded on by what he read as support from the crowd, Grant continued, “So who’s it gonna be Wyatt? Which of these fine men are you gonna try and beat me with?”

  Taking a drag off his cigarette, Wyatt said with an exaggerated sigh, “I don’t know, Grant. I tend to agree with your analysis. The field isn’t looking all that strong.”

  Grant was surprised at Wyatt’s apparent agreement. He couldn’t tell if he was sincere or making fun of him. But Wyatt continued.

  “Nope, I think you’re right, Grant. We need some fresh blood.”

  “I agree,” said Grant. “But where you gonna find that, Wyatt? Everyone who is willing to come up against me has thrown his hat in the ring. There doesn’t seem to be a long line of undeclared candidates looking to take your money. No, I think you’re stuck with the current field, Wyatt. Everybody who is getting in, is already in.”

  Wyatt took another long drag off his cigarette and looked him in the eye. “Well not everybody, Grant. I have someone else in mind.”

  “Really, and who might that be, Wyatt?”

  “Someone who is gonna whip your ass, Grant.”

  There was an interested murmur throughout the room.

  “Yeah? Just who is this mystery man who is going to whip my ass?”

  “Me.”

  Grant’s face blanched. There was an immediate roar from around the room. Everyone began talking at once. People were surprised, excited. Up to this point, the most exciting thing about the potential race had been the free beer. Grant was not well known in Wyoming. Certainly not beloved, or even a person who was all that well liked. But, most people in the know had conceded that there was no way that one of the declared opponents could beat him, even if he had Wyatt’s backing.

  But Wyatt himself? Now, that was a different story. He was an exciting man. There was an aura about him that attracted people to him. It had been that way all of his life. No question that being a half-breed would be a problem for many, but people who knew him had long ago put that aside. The question was: even if they liked and respected him, would they vote for him?

  Those questions would be raised down the line. None of them were part of the buzz at Grant’s party. A shot of energy flashed through the room. People were keyed up. Now this was a race to talk about, argue about and, yes, get involved in. It was the last thing that Grant Forrester had planned or wanted. And it was precisely what Tom and Wyatt intended to happen when they tossed their bombshell announcement in the middle of Grant’s party.

  The immediate reaction settled down. The room quieted. Everyone looked to the two men squaring off in the front of the room. Once again, the contrast was striking. Grant’s upper lip was beaded with sweat. Visible rings of moisture were spreading under his armpits. His face was flushed. He made a concerted effort to appear unconcerned, but clearly was caught off guard.

  In contrast, Wyatt was relaxed. He leaned against the bar, grinning, smoking his cigarette, and studying Grant through half-closed eyes.

  Grant struggled to regain his composure. He said in a voice that was meant to be confident but had a bit of a squeak to it, “Christ, you’re going to run, Wyatt? I thought you just bought offices for others. You’re gonna try and buy it for yourself?”

  Wyatt grinned. “Oh, I get it, Grant. You thought this office was for sale. That’s why you’re running. If that’s the case, hmm, might cost you a little more than you thought it would.”

  At that, the room erupted into raucous laughter. The excitement was palpable. When it was clear he had lost the attention of the crowd, Grant said in a loud voice, “Thank you for coming everyone. Looks like we are going to have a good contest for governor. I for one am looking forward to it.”

  Most people ignored him. He was barely heard over the animated din as people pressed forward to talk to Wyatt. To Grant’s dismay, every one of the reporters was now huddled in front of Wyatt, peppering him with questions. It was clear that the story was no longer Grant, it was Wyatt. Just as Wyatt and Tom had intended.

  Making one more effort to gain control, Grant said, “Wyatt, why don’t you and I go to the back of the room and let these news people get their questions in?”

  Wyatt grinned. “Hey, it’s your party, Grant. I’m just a guest mooching off the free beer like everyone else here.”

  With difficulty, Grant’s people managed to clear the room. They thanked people for coming and for their interest in the campaign. The crowd slowly moved outside where the keyed up conversations continued.

  Inside, Grant did his best to take charge. He and his cronies sat at one of the large tables in the back of the room. He invited Wyatt and the reporters to join them. Tom and Wyatt agreed, and sat across from Grant and his campaign team. Chief, Alono, and four other Caballeros stood discreetly against the wall. After several minutes of questions from the reporters, all directed to Wyatt, Grant admitted he had lost his audience. He stood up, thanked the reporters for coming, and moved them toward the door. Wyatt stayed seated, nodding politely to the reporters as they left. Tom got up and walked to the door, a calendar in hand, arranging for one-on-one interviews with each of the eager newsmen.

  Wyatt sat back in his chair, casually smoking a cigarette. He looked at Grant with a sardonic smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Words weren’t necessary. He didn’t speak any. His victory was complete. They both knew it. Grant was flushed with anger and turned away to hide his fury. His friends continued to sit at the table with Wyatt, because, like Grant, they were immobilized by the turn of events and Wyatt’s presence. The room was silent.

  At that moment, Lei came in. She had come to town with Wyatt and the group, but declined to go in to the crowded saloon with Wyatt. Instead she had gone to a small shop up the street and made several purchases for the children. When she saw the crowd leaving the saloon, she waited until the entrance was clear, and then quietly walked in to find Wyatt.

  No one could see Lei without being stunned by her beauty. She was an extraordinary woman. While Grant and his men disparaged
her Chinese heritage, what they didn’t admit was how beautiful her combined white and Oriental features were. Add to that her voluptuous body and proud bearing, and everyone who saw her remarked on her beauty, aloud or to themselves.

  When she saw Grant, a disdainful grimace crossed her face. Something snapped in Grant. Her open distaste, coupled with her beauty, underscored the magnitude of the disaster with Wyatt. Smarting from the debacle, he threw caution aside and walked up to Lei with a sneer on his unpleasant face. “Well, hello, Mrs. McManus. Oh that’s right, that’s not your name. You and Wyatt aren’t married, are you? What should I call you?”

  “You may call me anything you like, Grant. As I am sure you do,” Lei said with a dismissive smile. “My name is Lei Chang.”

  The words weren’t out of her mouth when Wyatt was at her side. Cold anger replaced the easy smile that had tormented Grant for the last hour. Grant paled. He tried to move away, but Wyatt grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. With his other hand, Wyatt drove his thumb into Grant’s shoulder in a kung fu pressure lock. It was a move that brought experienced fighters to their knees. Grant would have fallen to the floor, but Wyatt held him up by the arm he’d bent behind his back. He intensified the pressure as Grant screamed in shock.

  There were six audible clicks as Alono, Chief, and the four Caballeros drew and cocked their guns—in the event Grant’s supporters were foolish enough to try to help him.

  They didn’t need to worry. Grant was on his own. His cronies backed away, wide-eyed, startled to see their leader in tears, begging Wyatt to let him go. Like all cowards who were brave in the abstract, they were frozen with fear when confronted with real danger.

  Wyatt said in a quiet voice, “Grant, if I see you within three feet of Lei again—or if I ever hear you say a disrespectful thing to her or about her—I will cut off your balls and your prick and shove them up your ass. Do you understand?”

  Grant’s face was purple. Tears of pain and rage flowed down his face. Wyatt repeated, “Do you understand?”

  When Grant nodded, gulping and blubbering, Wyatt said, “I want to hear you say it, loud. Loud enough so that your asshole buddies can hear you.”

  Tightening the pressure on the nerve lock, he repeated, “Say it. Say ‘I understand, Wyatt.’”

  Grant screamed in pain, then cried out, “I understand, Wyatt.”

  Wyatt stepped back. Grant collapsed on a chair, moaning and sobbing, trying to rub his shoulder, but barely able to move either arm. Wyatt lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. With the glimmer of a smile, he stepped up and blew the smoke in Grant’s face.

  “One more thing. Stop imagining all the ways you’re planning to fuck her. It’s a waste of time. No animal alive can fuck shit after his prick and balls have been cut off.”

  He tossed his cigarette at Grant’s feet and ground it out with his boot. Nodding to Chief and Alono, he took Lei’s arm and walked out of the saloon, followed by his men.

  When they got outside, Tom stepped back. His eyes were wide. A look of wonder lit his face.

  “Je - sus Christ. If I live to be one hundred, I will never forget that. Now that’s what I call marking your territory. Holy Christ, Wyatt, I wish every asshole I know in Washington could have seen that little show. “Amazing,” he said, his face bright with admiration.

  Wyatt grinned with a twinkle in his eye. “Glad you’re impressed, Tom. Always want to keep my campaign manager entertained.”

  “Christ, Wyatt, I feel manlier just watching you. And I wasn’t even the one swinging my dick around.”

  “What do you guys do in Washington when you’re defending your honor against a first class prick? Throw a glass of French champagne in his face and walk off in a huff?”

  Tom nodded. “It’s almost that bad, Wyatt. Then we would plot for weeks about how to bring him down. Probably end up starting a whisper campaign questioning his sexuality.

  “Wait a minute! Is that a smile I saw cross your face, Alono?” Tom asked in mock surprise. “Hell, you’re a handsome guy when you don’t look as though you’re gonna cut off my short hairs with a Bowie knife. Tell me the truth, Alono. Would you have shot Grant in there, if he threatened Wyatt, or would you have just roughed him up?”

  When Alono shrugged, his face settling into its usual stern look, Wyatt answered Tom’s question.

  “Alono would kill his mother if he had one, if she threatened me. The only person he’d kill faster to protect is Lei.”

  When Alono looked down and blushed, Wyatt stepped over and put his arm around him, smiling with obvious affection. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Brother.”

  Tom looked serious for a moment. “One question. I may be the only one who cares, but can we expect them to retaliate?”

  Wyatt gave a dismissive shrug. “Sure, wouldn’t you?”

  Tom groaned. “Actually, no. I’d still be shitting my pants months later.”

  Wyatt had a pensive expression. “Well, they’ll try to do something. Given it’s Grant, it’ll be dirty and underhanded. It won’t have his fingerprints on it. But you’re right, Tom. I did want to put a marker down. And I wanted Grant to get the message personally. They can come after me all they want in this campaign. God help them if they go after Lei.”

  ~~~

  Chapter 4

  That night they sat as a group, going over the events of the day. They all agreed that there couldn’t have been a more auspicious start to the campaign. Tom was ecstatic with the response to Wyatt from the crowd in the Saloon.

  “I knew it! I fucking knew it, Wyatt. You are a star. People love you. Did you see the reaction when you walked in? Everyone wanted to shake your hand, speak to you. Do you know how important that is, Wyatt? If we can capture that response and keep the garbage out of the campaign, hell, we can win this thing, hands down.”

  “Careful, Tom. Don’t get carried away. It’s one thing for people to like me. You’re right, a lot of people do. I have friends here. I’ve lived here most of my life. They know me. That’s probably true across the state. But we don’t know what will happen when the nonsense starts. We know it will. Remember, there is a gulf between liking someone – especially someone like me—and putting a mark by my name for governor. That’s gonna be a big step for a lot of Wyoming whites. And since they’re the only ones who can vote, whether they will take that step or not will decide this election.”

  “You’re right, of course, but let’s celebrate today. If I could have choreographed it from start to finish, I couldn’t have constructed a better beginning to the campaign.”

  Seeing the troubled look on Lei’s face, Tom asked, “What’s wrong, Lei? You don’t look convinced.”

  She hesitated, then said to Wyatt, “I didn’t realize that our being unmarried, Wyatt, was going to be such a big issue in the campaign. It was the first thing Grant used to attack you.”

  Before Tom could respond, Wyatt stood up and glared at her, his face was cold, his eyes hard. “I don’t give a fuck how the “issue” affects the campaign, Lei. All I can tell you is what you already know. It’s tearing me apart.”

  With that he nodded to the others, turned, and stalked out of the room. The others sat quietly as an uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Lei stood, said good night, and left the room—following Wyatt to their bedroom.

  ~~~

  When she came in the room, Wyatt was stoking the fire that Daniel had built for them earlier in the evening. He didn’t speak or turn when she entered. She saw the tense muscles on his neck and shoulders. His anger was palpable from the doorway. She knew nothing she said would make a difference and walked quietly .into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She went into the bathroom, stripped off her clothes, and stepped into the shower. It was a luxury that Wyatt had added when Lei moved back to the ranch. Wyatt loved to wash her body with fragrant soaps, a prelude to making love. She hoped he would join her. After several minutes, it was clear he would not.

  Wyatt stood in front of th
e fireplace, his back to the room. He turned when she came in after her shower. He took a deep breath, trying not to react. She was wearing a robe that he loved. Her father had brought it back for her from his latest trip to China. It was a filmy gossamer fabric that floated over her body, revealing an enticing display of silk covered curves. It accented her full firm breasts and upraised nipples. As she walked, the fabric swept over her hips and bottom exposing a hint of cleavage. Knowing that he was watching her, she went to her dressing table and removed the comb that held her hair. It fell over her shoulders in a glossy shimmering cascade. She began to brush her hair, something she knew Wyatt loved to watch her do. He could smell her fragrant still damp body from across the room.

  He almost smiled at her obvious attempt to entice him, draw out his anger. But the chokehold of his fury was too intense to be easily loosened. He sunk into the armchair in front of the fire, lit a cigar, and watched her through half closed eyes. She didn’t speak. Instead she continued to brush her hair as if he was not there. After several minutes, he said, “Lei, come here.”

  She looked up, as if noticing him for the first time. She slowly walked over and stood in front of him, a soft smile on her face. The light from the fire shadowed her naked body visible beneath the transparent silky folds of her robe.

  He leaned back, took a puff off his cigar and said through half closed eyes, “Show me your breasts.”