His surroundings were unfamiliar, but it didn’t take much of an effort to figure out where he was. He saw barns, corrals, and in the distance a big, two-story ranch house with whitewashed walls and a porch that appeared to run around all four sides. Oil lamps hung on that porch at intervals and cast a lot of light, making it stand out in the night.
There was a small balcony outside one of the rooms on the second floor that looked like it had been added after the rest of the house was built. It didn’t quite fit. Something about it seemed familiar to Luke, and after a moment he realized that it resembled a widow’s walk of the sort that was found on seacoast houses in New England. No wonder it looked a little out of place here in West Texas.
He knew he was looking at the home of Harry Elston.
“Get him on his feet,” Singletary ordered. “The boss is ready to see him.”
The men who had dragged Luke out of the smokehouse took hold of his arms and hauled him upright. One of them hung on to him to keep him balanced while the other used a knife to cut the ropes holding his ankles together. Once his legs were loose, the man kicked them apart so that Luke was forced to stand on his feet. Until he felt the pain of blood flowing back into them, Luke hadn’t realized how numb they had been. He tightened his jaw to keep from grimacing at the discomfort.
“He ought to be able to walk now, Whitey,” one of the men said after a minute or so.
Singletary nodded and said, “If he falls down, we’ll pick him up again. Let’s go, Jensen.”
The crooked deputy had stood slightly to one side with a shotgun in his hands while the other men dealt with Luke. He didn’t appear to be injured, and Luke wondered for a second if he’d been wrong about Singletary being the one who had fired that shotgun blast through the window of his hotel room back in Painted Post.
But then as the group started toward the ranch house, Singletary grunted in apparent pain, and one of the hired killers with him asked, “Are you all right, Whitey?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Singletary replied. “But I’ll be even better once this son of a bitch pays for shootin’ me last night. That bullet gouged a big hunk outta my side.”
So he’d been right after all, Luke thought. Singletary had been the bushwhacker on the balcony. He must have bandages wrapped around his torso under his shirt.
He hoped they were taking him to wherever Glory was. He thought there was a good chance she was all right, since that gunman had said Elston’s orders were for her to be taken alive, but Luke would feel better once he saw that with his own eyes.
Of course, they would still be in a mighty bad fix, but as long as they were alive they had hope.
Luke stumbled now and then, but whenever he did, one of the men surrounding him grabbed his arm and steadied him. He wished he could make a grab for one of the guns they wore so carelessly. With his hands tied behind his back, though, that was hopeless. He’d just get himself killed sooner.
No, for now he had to just bide his time and wait for a better chance.
The walk to the house seemed longer than it really was, but finally they reached the three steps leading up to the porch. Luke stumbled again as he went up them, but this time it was on purpose. His legs felt stronger and steadier now, but there was no reason to let his captors know that. If they believed he was in worse shape than he really was, that might come in handy later.
As they started into the house, Singletary prodded Luke in the back with the twin barrels of the shotgun he carried and said, “You behave yourself in here, Jensen. Don’t go sassin’ your betters. The boss made it clear we can shoot you if we feel the need.” Singletary chuckled again. “Or if the temptation is just too much to resist.”
Luke didn’t say anything. Trading insults with the deputy wouldn’t accomplish a blasted thing. Singletary already wanted to kill him.
Not surprisingly, the big house’s interior was opulently, even extravagantly furnished, with thick rugs on the floor, fancy wallpaper, paintings on the walls, crystal chandeliers, and expensive furniture. Luke’s captors took him through a foyer with a gleaming hardwood floor, past a parlor, and down a corridor to a heavy oak door that one of the men rapped on and called, “We’re here with Jensen, boss.”
Harry Elston didn’t call for them to come in. He jerked the door open himself and glared at Luke. He had taken off his coat, but otherwise he was dressed in a gray tweed suit and white shirt, with a string tie cinched tight around his thick neck.
“Bring him in here,” Elston snapped as he stepped back from the door.
Singletary shoved Luke ahead. Luke stumbled on purpose again. That carried him into what appeared to be a combination office, study, and library. It was a big room with a lot of bookcases filled with leather-bound volumes. A large desk dominated one side of the room with windows behind it. Curtains closed off those windows at the moment. On the opposite wall was a fireplace with the mounted heads of wild game placed above it. Several paintings of sailing ships had been hung on the other walls. A pair of large, overstuffed armchairs sat near the fireplace.
Luke took all that in with a glance. He had hoped to see Glory in here, but there was no sign of her, only Elston. The rancher said, “Whitey, you stay. The rest of you men can go.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea, boss?” Singletary asked with a frown.
“Jensen’s arms are tied behind his back,” Elston said coldly, “and a few hours ago he got a pretty severe beating. I think the two of us can handle him if he tries to give us any trouble.”
Singletary jerked his head at the other gunnies and said, “You heard the man.”
They filed out, leaving the three of them in the room.
Elston stalked over to the desk and took a cigar from a fancy wooden box with a gilt-edged lid. With his short, burly frame, he reminded Luke of a brown bear. He clipped the end off the cigar, put it in his mouth, and lit it with a lucifer. As gray smoke wreathed around his head, he looked at Luke and said, “You’re a damned fool, you know that, Jensen?”
“So I’ve been told many times in the past,” Luke said, “but I’m curious why you think so.”
“If you had taken a look around Sabado Valley and gotten the lay of the land, you would have seen that you and I ought to be on the same side.”
Luke shook his head and said, “I don’t see how you figure that.”
Elston puffed on the cigar for a moment, then said, “It’s simple, really. Glory MacCrae stands in the way of what we both want. I want the MC, and you want a payoff. Blood money. You should have been working for me, helping me get rid of that bitch. It would have been a good arrangement.”
“Except for the fact that I don’t think I could have stood the smell,” Luke said. He turned his head and looked meaningfully at Singletary, who glared and tightened his hands on the shotgun he still held.
Elston waved the cigar at Singletary to tell him to take it easy. He said to Luke, “Do you know what I did before I came to Texas and took up ranching?”
“I don’t have any idea.”
“I was a sea captain. Sailed the world over. Ran guns to ports in South America. Fought off Malay pirates to protect my cargoes in the South China Sea. Ruled over the hardest crews with a belaying pin and a strong right hand.” Elston held up a clenched fist. “You don’t think I’d let a woman stand in my way, do you?”
“I doubt if you ever met another woman quite like Glory MacCrae.”
Elston shrugged and said, “You may be right about that. I’ll give her credit, she’s stubborn. Not to mention damned good-looking. But that doesn’t matter, either. Anyone who defies me gets crushed, no matter what it takes.”
“What gives you the right?” Luke asked as anger welled up inside him. “We have laws in this country, Elston, and it’s not the law of the sea. You can’t make anybody who crosses you walk the plank!”
Elston set his cigar in an ashtray on the desk and swung back toward Luke. His jaw jutted out belligerently as he said, “There’s only one
law, and that’s the law of power! If you’ve got it, you’re above all the other laws. They’re for lesser people, fools like you who are willing to settle for crumbs when there’s a banquet just waiting for you, if you’re man enough to seize it!”
“You’re out of your mind,” Luke rasped. His throat still hurt from all the smoke he had breathed earlier.
Elston shook his head and said, “No, I’m the sanest man in the whole state of Texas. And I’m tired of arguing with you.”
He turned to the wall and tugged on a tasseled cord that hung there. Luke supposed it rang a bell somewhere else in the house. He didn’t know what the signal meant, but he knew he would find out if he waited.
He didn’t have to wait long. Less than a minute later, the heavy door opened again. Glory came into the room. Verne Finn was with her. The gunman’s hand rested on her shoulder.
Glory’s hands were tied, too, but they were in front rather than behind her and almost loose enough to free herself. When she saw Luke she cried out his name and ran toward him. Finn didn’t try to stop her, and neither did Singletary.
She lifted her hands and caught hold of his shirt front. Pressing her head against his chest, she said in a voice choked with emotion, “I was afraid they had killed you.”
“Not yet,” Elston said. “But it can be arranged if you’re determined to be stubborn, Mrs. MacCrae.”
Glory’s thick, dark hair was right under Luke’s face. He bent forward and kissed the top of her head. Her hair still smelled faintly of smoke. It took a long time to get rid of that smell.
Time they might not have.
But for now he asked quietly, “Are you all right, Glory?”
“They . . . they haven’t hurt me,” she said.
“And we won’t if you’ll just cooperate,” Elston said. “I’ve already showed you the sales agreement and deed to the MC I had drawn up. All you have to do is sign it, and this whole unpleasant affair can be over.”
Luke didn’t believe that for a second. Despite what Elston said about being above the law, he had broken too many of them just to let his prisoners go.
Glory signing that deed and giving her ranch to Elston would be the same thing as signing their death warrant.
Luke saw that he didn’t have to worry about her giving in to threats. She glared defiantly at Elston and shook her head.
“You’ll never get your hands on Sam MacCrae’s ranch, legally or illegally,” she declared. “Even if I’m dead, my men will fight you. Gabe Pendleton will never let that happen.”
Finn laughed and said, “I reckon you’ll find that a bunch of cowboys are no match for me and my men, missy.”
“Enough,” Elston snapped. “I’m not used to begging. If we can’t do this the easy way—” He stopped short and nodded to Finn. “Bring in our other guest.”
With a lazy grin, Finn turned and left the room. Other guest? Luke looked at Glory, but she just gave a little shake of her head to indicate that she was as confused as he was.
Finn wasn’t gone long. He came back into the room, and following him was a tall, handsome, well-dressed man with curly blond hair. He smiled at Glory, who stared at him with wide, horrified eyes.
“Hello, Gloria,” the man drawled, then added mockingly, “Or should I call you Mother?”
Luke knew he was looking at Hugh Jennings.
CHAPTER 22
Glory cried, “No!” She slumped against Luke, evidently almost overcome with fear. He thought for a second that she was shamming, but then he felt her shaking and knew her terror was real.
How evil must Hugh Jennings be to provoke such a reaction in a woman as strong and defiant as Glory?
“It’s so wonderful to see you again, my dear,” Jennings went on smoothly, still smiling. “I was afraid we might never be reunited.”
“How . . .” Glory gasped. “How did you—?”
“Find you? It really wasn’t that difficult. I can afford to hire the best detectives in the country. I knew it was only a matter of time until they located you.”
This was further proof that what Luke and Glory had discussed earlier was true. If she had stuck to her original plan and remained anonymous in some small settlement, instead of marrying the owner of the biggest ranch in this part of Texas and landing in the middle of a range war, she might have been a lot harder to find.
But it was too late to worry about that now. Hugh Jennings was here. Luke speculated that Jennings had arrived in Painted Post after his detectives informed him where Glory was, discovered that Elston had been trying to get rid of her, and come out here to forge an alliance with the rancher. That would explain why Elston’s orders had changed abruptly from killing Glory to capturing her.
Glory seemed to be recovering some from the shock of seeing her murderous stepson. Her voice was stronger and touched with anger as she said, “What do you want, Hugh?”
“What I’ve always wanted, of course,” Jennings said. “Justice for my father.”
“If you want justice, you’ll put a gun to your head and blow your brains out.”
That prompted an arrogant laugh from Jennings.
“Not that old story again,” he said. “The authorities know perfectly well that you killed my father. How can you expect them to believe otherwise when you were caught with his blood all over your hands?”
“He was only bleeding because you killed him.”
“Then why did you point a gun at me and my friends and flee with all that money?”
“I never took any of Alfred’s money! That was you. I wasn’t going to be railroaded for something I hadn’t done!”
Jennings smirked and said, “Those are bold claims from a woman with a history of being a scarlet adventuress and a criminal.”
With a frown, Harry Elston said, “You two can snipe at each other later. Right now I want this business of the MacCrae ranch settled. Mrs. MacCrae, if you sign your ranch over to me like I asked, I’ll see to it that you don’t have to worry about Jennings taking you back to face the law in Baltimore.”
That blunt statement jolted Jennings right out of his smug, self-satisfied attitude. He looked surprised and said to Elston, “Wait just a minute! That wasn’t the agreement we made. You said you’d turn Gloria over to me!”
Singletary shifted his shotgun so that barrels pointed more toward Jennings and growled, “The agreement is whatever the boss says it is, mister.”
“That’s right,” Verne Finn added with an edge of steel in his voice.
Elston gave Jennings a hard look as he said, “I don’t really care about your problems, Jennings. When you showed up this afternoon and explained who Mrs. MacCrae really is and what she’s wanted for back in Baltimore, I figured I could use you to help me get what I want. All that matters to me is her ranch.” Elston shrugged. “If I can persuade her to cooperate, that’s the easiest way for me to get what I want. If she won’t . . . well, then I guess you can take her back and let the law hang her. I’ll buy the MC at auction when the taxes aren’t paid. But it’s more trouble and more expensive that way, so I hope I can convince her to be reasonable.”
Glory asked, “Do you really think you can force me into selling the ranch to you, Elston, after you had Sam murdered? Sam MacCrae was worth a hundred of you!”
“I had nothing to do with your husband’s death, Mrs. MacCrae.”
“Maybe not personally, but you gave the order for him to be bushwhacked!”
Elston shook his head and said, “No, I didn’t. That’s the truth.”
Oddly enough, Luke thought he believed the former sea captain. After everything else that had happened the past few days, Elston lying about Sam MacCrae’s death didn’t really serve any purpose now.
“You had your men rustle my cattle,” Glory accused. “You sent them to try to burn down my house. And you’ve tried to kill Luke and me several times now.”
“You can’t prove any of that,” Elston said blandly. “But if you’re anxious to go into a court of law—with
me knowing what I know about you now—I suppose we can do it that way.”
Glory glared furiously at the rancher, but Luke knew Elston had her between the proverbial rock and hard place. He could hold the threat of Hugh Jennings and that murder charge over her head until she finally gave in and did whatever he wanted her to do.
After a long moment, Glory asked, “What happens if I sign that contract and deed?”
“Then I have what I want and the two of us have no further business. You’ll be free to go.”
“How much are you prepared to pay me?”
Elston puffed on his cigar, then said, “One thousand dollars.”
Glory’s eyes widened again. She said, “The MC is worth fifty times that!”
“One thousand dollars will buy you a train ticket to anywhere you want to go,” Elston told her, “with enough left over for you to start a new life under a new name. If you stop and think about it, it’s not a bad deal for you.”
Jennings was red-faced with anger at what he had to consider a betrayal by Elston. He said, “You can’t do that. This woman is wanted for murder!”
“Not in Texas,” Elston said.
“I’ll go to the law! I’ll go to the Rangers!”
“That wouldn’t be a smart thing to do.”
Singletary pointed the shotgun even more toward Jennings and mocked, “Not a smart thing at all.”
“You can’t threaten me,” Jennings blustered. “I know my rights.”
“The only rights you have on this ranch are the ones I say you do,” Elston pointed out. “Verne, why don’t you take your guest back to his room? Make sure he’s comfortable . . . and stays there.”
“Sure, boss,” Finn said with a faint smile. He put his left hand on Jennings’s shoulder and his right on the butt of his gun. “Come along, mister.”
“You tricked me,” Jennings said to Elston. “You just wanted to use me as leverage to blackmail Gloria. You won’t get away with this!”
Finn’s hand tightened on Jennings’s shoulder and swung him around. The gunman’s eyes were as cold and hard as chunks of agate. Jennings must have read the looming danger in them. He swallowed hard and allowed Finn to steer him toward the doorway.
Bloody Sunday Page 19
