Vernon opened his mouth to deny it, but Hiram's face told him a denial would be futile. "We talked about this," he said instead, "and you said more pressure might be required."
Hiram shook his head, frowning with displeasure. "Don't try to justify your actions by laying the blame on me. What you have done is appalling, not to mention stupid. Branigan isn't the kind of man to be intimidated. I tried that in my one conversation with him. It didn't work." Hiram stood up. "Tomorrow, you will begin making arrangements to sell our holdings here, so that the investors can be repaid. We are abandoning this venture."
"Hiram, you can't be serious."
"But I am. We'll sell what land and business we have down here. The land ought to bring a decent profit, since prices are rising, and I'm sure we'll be able to sell the businesses, as well, without too much trouble. We won't lose money."
"We've come so close. You can't do this."
The moment he said it, he knew he'd made a mistake. Hiram didn't like being told what to do.
"This has always been your little project, Vernon," Hiram replied coldly, "not mine. I never wanted you to take Alicia so far away from home in the first place. But you wanted the chance to prove yourself, and I have given you four years to do it. That's long enough. You have failed, and I won't back a failure."
Failure. The word cut deep. "What he said was just a lot of big talk, Hiram. You know it was."
"Some of it, I agree, but perhaps not all of it." The other man set aside his napkin and rose. "Branigan might have enough friends in New York to do some serious damage. I've heard of Clan na Gael, and I know they could cause trouble if they wanted to. Many Irish people work for me. I can't fire them all. I won't put my other business ventures at risk for this railroad scheme of yours. And I have no intention of ending up dead with an Irish knife in my belly. As Alicia said, it's not worth it."
He walked out of the dining room, leaving Vernon staring after him in shock and fury.
He couldn't believe that everything he wanted was slipping out of his grasp because of that Irish prizefighter. A hero? Vernon didn't believe that cock-and- bull story for a second.
A sound from the doorway caused Vernon to turn. Alicia stood there, watching him with a somber expression. He knew perfectly well she'd heard every word, and he could almost feel her disapproval. His anger rose to the surface, and he scowled at her. "What were you thinking," he demanded, "pushing your father to abandon this project when you know damn good and well how much it means to me?"
She brushed at an imaginary speck of lint on her skirt and did not meet his gaze. "You heard that man, the threats he made. I was frightened."
"Bull." He shoved back his chair and stood up. "You've never wanted me to succeed."
She lifted her head. "That's not true. I've always supported you."
"Only when it suited you." He stalked out of the dining room, and Alicia followed him as he crossed the foyer. When he reached his study, he entered the room and slammed the door between them, shutting her out.
I won't back a failure. Hiram's words rang in his ears, and his rage escalated. Hiram thought he was a failure. Alicia, too. He saw it in her eyes.
The empire he'd built so carefully was about to fall down around him, and he wasn't going to let that happen. Branigan was to blame for this. If it hadn't been for him, Olivia would have sold the land eventually. If it hadn't been for him, Hiram would not be running like a scared rabbit.
Vernon walked to his desk and opened the top drawer. He pulled out the deed and bill of sale he'd drawn up four years ago and his Colt pistol. He shoved the deed into one pocket of his jacket and the gun in the other. Then he shut the drawer and left the study.
Alicia was still standing outside the door, waiting for him. "Vernon," she began, "I'm sorry if—"
"Save it," he said, and walked past her.
"Where are you going?" she cried, as he headed for the front door.
"I'm not letting that cocky Irish bastard ruin everything I've worked for," he shot back furiously. "I'll get that land, one way or the other."
He walked out of the house, and slammed the door behind him hard enough to rattle the windowpanes. Alicia and her father thought he was a failure. Well, Vernon was about to prove them wrong.
30
Olivia was so tired that by the time all the neighbors left to return to their own farms, she was ready to collapse. Oren and Kate departed last, after Olivia assured them at least three times that she and the girls would be fine and didn't need them to stay. She knew they had their own family to see to. Besides, what she needed right now was not company. She needed a cool bath, a change of clothes, and Conor to hold her.
But Conor wasn't here to hold her. She and the girls had been combing the woods, searching for stray livestock that had escaped the fire, and she had not noticed his departure until after she'd rounded up her few remaining chickens and hogs and put them in the stable with Princess and Cally. He had borrowed Oren's horse and gone to town. Oren had not told her why, but she knew the fire was no accident, and she had realized where Conor had gone.
She leaned back against the wall of the stable and stared at the charred remains of her barn. The idea of him confronting Vernon and what might happen made her sick with worry. Vernon might not do anything to her or the girls, but Conor was a different matter. She closed her eyes and prayed for his safe return. If anything happened to him because of her refusal to sell—
"Mama?"
Olivia turned at the sound of Becky's voice and studied the somber faces of her three daughters, who stood behind her inside the stable, their faces streaked with soot and tears and sweat. Chester, also covered with soot, stood beside them. She remembered Conor's words of a month ago. It's not worth a fight, Olivia. It's not worth it. She walked over to them, opened her arms, and enfolded all three of her daughters in a hug. "Everything's going to be fine," she said, trying to believe it herself, "just fine."
She pulled back. "C'mon," she said, "let's get you girls cleaned up."
She started out the door of the stable, but the sound of hoofbeats brought her to a halt, and she watched as Vernon rode around the side of the house and into the yard, followed by Joshua and Earl Harlan. Chester halted beside her and began to bark.
Fear shot through Olivia, and her first thought was to keep the girls away. She turned to her oldest daughter. "Becky, take your sisters out at the other end of the stable and go to the Johnsons'. Take Chester with you. Tell Oren that Vernon's here, and I need help."
"Why?" Becky leaned forward, trying to see the men who had ridden into the yard, but Olivia grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around.
"Just do it," she said, giving the girl a push toward the door at the other end. "Run as fast as you can. Go."
Becky grabbed each of her sisters by the hand. "C'mon, Chester," she said. The three girls and the dog ran out of the stable and headed for the Johnson farm. Olivia would have gone with them, but she had to find out what had happened to Conor. She waited until she saw the girls and Chester disappear into the dense woods, then she left the stable and walked across the yard.
Vernon saw her approach. He wrapped the reins of his roan stallion around the porch rail, then moved to stand by the steps. The Harlan boys followed suit.
As she approached, she felt the anger that emanated from him like the stillness before a thunderstorm. There was strain in his face and tense restraint in his movements, as if he were keeping that anger tightly leashed, and the slightest change could start the storm raging. For the first time in her life, she was afraid of Vernon, afraid of what he and his boys might have done to Conor.
He waited to speak until she stopped several feet away from him. "Where's Branigan?" he asked tightly. "He came to see me this morning, but he left before we could finish our little talk."
A blessed feeling of relief washed over her. Vernon didn't know where Conor was, and that meant that her husband was safe.
But h
er relief vanished when Vernon pulled back his jacket to show her the gun stuck in his belt. He began walking toward her. "I'm here to finish it."
She refused to show fear by stepping back, and he halted a foot in front of her. She stared at the pistol for a moment, then looked up and met his eyes. "Conor isn't here. I don't know where he is."
"Then we'll wait for him." Before she could move, he grabbed her arm in a viselike grip. It would have been pointless to struggle, so Olivia did not, and Vernon hauled her up the steps and into the house. The Harlan boys followed them into the kitchen.
"Earl, go keep a watch on the front window, and tell me if Branigan's coming," Vernon instructed. "Joshua, you go out and watch the back."
Earl left the room, and Joshua went out onto the back porch, closing the door behind him. Vernon pushed Olivia into a chair.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
He pulled out a chair beside her and sat down. "I'm going to get his signature on a deed and bill of sale for this land."
"What makes you think he'll sell it to you?"
"He'll sell." Vernon leaned back in his chair, and pulled his pistol out of his belt, and took aim at the door.
That gesture left no doubt of his intentions. Olivia clasped her shaking hands together, and cast a longing glance at the pantry, wondering if she could get to the rifle. She stirred in her chair. "Since we may be waiting for Conor awhile," she said, "I think I'll make some tea."
She started to rise, but Vernon grabbed her and yanked her back into her seat. "We don't need any tea, Liv. You just sit tight."
The minutes went by, and each one seemed like an eternity to Olivia.
She prayed that Oren would be able to do something, but it was four miles to the Johnson farm, and she knew it would be at least an hour before the girls could get there. If Conor arrived in the meantime, Vernon might very well shoot him. He was tight as a bowstring, and anything could make him snap.
She looked at him. "Vernon," she said quietly, "if it's the land you want, we'll sell it to you. There's no need for any of this."
He turned on her. "No need?" he shouted, his anger flaring. "That son of a bitch came barging his way into my home this morning as if he was king of the hill, threatening me and my wife's father, telling us how he was going to destroy us and get his Irish friends in New York to help him do it. And Hiram fell for it!" Vernon slammed his fist down on the table. "Nobody threatens me! Nobody! Especially not some Irish boxer who hasn't got two nickels to rub together."
He looked at her, contempt and rage twisting his features. "And you married him! I wasn't good enough for you, but he was? You wouldn't marry me, but you married him."
He shoved back his chair. Rising to his feet, he leaned over her, the gun between them, so much loathing in his face that she shrank back in her chair. "You've let him touch you. You've let him put his filthy Irish hands on you. God, you disgust me."
She stared up at Vernon and realized the truth. "This isn't about the land anymore, is it?" she whispered. "This is about my marriage."
Before he could answer, Earl came in from the parlor. "Branigan's coming up the lane, boss."
Vernon straightened, regaining control of himself with an effort. He grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the chair. "Come on, Mrs. Branigan," he said, pulling her with him out the back door. "Let's go greet your husband."
When Conor rode into the yard, he immediately saw the horses and the four people waiting for him on the back porch. He saw the gun in Vernon's hand and the fear in Olivia's face. He dismounted from Oren's horse and walked slowly toward the porch, but he stopped several feet from the steps, trying to figure out what to do.
Vernon held Olivia close to his side, but the gun was not pointed at her. It was pointed at Conor. "Afternoon, Branigan. We've been waiting for you."
Conor looked at Olivia. "Where are the girls?"
"They're at the Johnsons'."
He nodded and returned his gaze to Vernon. "What's the offer now, Vernon?" he asked, striving to sound casual. "Seven dollars an acre?"
"It's back down to one."
Conor wondered if Vernon would use Olivia as a bargaining chip. He needed to find out, and he slowly shook his head. "No deal."
"I thought you might say that." Vernon glanced at the two men who stood beside him. "Joshua, Earl, I think Mr. Branigan here needs to be persuaded."
The two men came down the porch steps, walking toward him, and Conor had his answer.
"Conor, let them have the land!" Olivia called to him. "It's not worth this."
He heard the plea in her voice, but he could not concede. This wasn't just about land; it was about standing up to bullies and fighting for what you believed in. Well, he had something to believe in now, and unless Vernon threatened Olivia, he wasn't going to give it up without a fight.
Conor backed away, to give himself more fighting room, and assessed the abilities of the two men who came toward him. Joshua he could take down with no problem. But he remembered how it had felt when Earl's fist had smashed his face that night nearly three months ago, and he knew that man might be a bit tougher.
He clenched his fists and waited for one of them to make the first move, suspecting it would be Joshua, who had a personal grudge and very little patience. When the first punch came at him, he was proven right.
He ducked to avoid Joshua's fist, and at the same time, he jammed his elbow backward into Earl's belly. Joshua's fist sailed over his head, Earl doubled over with a grunt of pain, and Conor straightened, bringing his right fist up beneath Joshua's chin and following with his left hook to smash the man's cheek. Joshua fell back and hit the dirt.
But Conor had no time to relish his victory. He turned, hoping he was quick enough. But he wasn't. Earl's punch caught him just below his cheekbone. Conor staggered back from the force of the blow, but he stayed on his feet and managed to lean left as Earl followed through with a second punch that didn't even touch him.
Conor slammed his right fist into Earl's ribs and followed with a clean uppercut to the jaw that stunned the other man long enough for one more right hook. Bone hit bone in a shattered thwack that sent Earl to the ground. Conor whirled back around, but Joshua still lay where he'd fallen, groaning, but making no attempt to rise and continue the fight.
Conor stepped over them and walked to the porch, looking up at the man who stood on the top step. "They didn't persuade me, Vernon," he said, his breath coming hard and fast. "Now, it's just you and me. For once in your miserable life, you'll have to fight your own battle."
Vernon tightened his grip on Olivia, pulling her close to his side, and aimed the pistol directly at Conor's heart. "Em going to make this real simple for you, boy. Give me the land or I'll kill you."
"No!" Olivia's voice rose on a sob. "Let him have the land," she cried. "It's not worth your life. It's not worth it. Please, Conor."
Conor glanced from Vernon to her and back again, trying to find some other option. Even if he signed over the land, Vernon would probably kill him. "All right, Tyler, you win," he said, lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender.
Suddenly, he moved, so fast that Olivia didn't quite know how he managed it. The gun fired just as Conor knocked it out of Vernon's hand, but the bullet sailed harmlessly through the air, and the gun hit the porch with a thud. Conor grabbed the other man by his iapels and hauled him down the steps. Then he let the other man go and gave him a shove. "All right, boyo," he said through clenched teeth, "let's see how brave you are now."
Olivia ran to the other end of the porch and grabbed the gun. She leaned over the porch rail. She cocked the weapon and pointed it at Vernon. "I've got the gun, Conor."
"Well, don't shoot him yet," he told her. "I'll be having a bit o' sport with him first."
Fear wiped away all the arrogance in Vernon's face. He glanced around as if seeking help, but the only two men who could help him lay sprawled in the dirt, still stunned and dazed, and obviously unwilling to come
to his aid.
Conor gave him another push. "What's wrong, Vernon?" he taunted. "Nobody to do your dirty work for you?"
He lifted his fist as if to take a swing, and Vernon cried out, jumping back and shielding his face with his arms. Conor lowered his fist, laughing. "You cowardly bastard," he muttered. "You're not worth hurting my hand."
Vernon lowered his arms, and Conor moved as if to turn away. But suddenly, he changed his mind and swung, momentum adding to the force of the blow that slammed into Vernon's nose and laid him out flat on his back in the dirt.
"I lied," Conor said, wiping blood from his hand.
A carriage pulled into the yard and came to a halt behind the two men, but Olivia spared only one glance at Alicia Tyler and the distinguished-looking gentleman beside her before returning her attention to Conor and Vernon.
Her husband moved to stand over the other man and placed his boot on his throat. "I'm Conor Branigan," he said through clenched teeth. "Now, that name might not mean much to you, so I'd better explain just how things are around here."
He stepped back. Vernon struggled to breathe, sucking air into his lungs in desperate gasps.
Conor gestured to the surrounding countryside and went on, "I own this land and everything on it. This is my farm and my home. You understand me, boyo?"
Vernon nodded and tried to rise.
Conor pushed him back down with his boot. "Good. You've threatened my family, and I don't like that at all. You ever set foot on my land again, you so much as look at my wife, or come within a mile of my daughters, you miserable bastard, and I'll do more than use you for firewood. I'll kill you."
Olivia lowered the pistol in her hand and walked down the steps as she listened to Conor claim what she had thought he would never want. She heard the fierce possessiveness in his voice as he said "my wife" and "my family"—and every word gave her hope. She came to a halt a few feet away and waited, as a wagon came into the yard and pulled up behind the carriage.
"Your girls said there was trouble," Oren said, jumping down from the wagon, rifle in hand. He looked at the three men lying on the ground, including the one pinned beneath Conor's boot. "But I see you've handled it."
Conor's Way Page 34
