by Jane Shoup
Howerton was seated behind a huge, mahogany desk in his study, when Tommy knocked. “I’m supposed to see you,” Tommy said when Howerton looked up.
“Where were you?”
“I had something to care of.”
Howerton waved him in. “What?”
Tommy came further in. “I’d rather not say.”
Howerton considered him thoughtfully. “You haven’t shown up late since you started working for me. You don’t drink much. You don’t whore around. Doesn’t look like you got in a fight. So, what was it?”
Tommy shifted on his feet, uncomfortable with the questioning. “I had to protect someone.”
“Who?”
Tommy shook his head. He couldn’t tell on Mitchell, but he wasn’t comfortable lying to Mr. Howerton either.
“Protecting them from what?” Howerton asked. “Can you, at least, tell me that?”
“Some men.”
“Who wanted to—”
“Hurt her. That’s all.”
“How’d they try to hurt her?”
Tommy looked uncomfortable. He’d already said too much.
“Was she hurt?” Howerton pushed.
“No, sir. Not really.”
“Because you were there to protect her?”
Tommy hesitated, then gave a brief nod. “Can I go to work now?”
“You protected her from getting raped,” Howerton guessed.
Tommy jerked slightly and then looked away from Mr. Howerton’s penetrating gaze.
“Alright,” Howerton said. “Get to work.”
Tommy looked at him again. “I can’t stay late, Mr. Howerton.”
Howerton twirled the pen he held. “It’s alright. You’ve pulled enough extra duty. Go on.”
Tommy nodded and walked off.
Chapter Fourteen
Tommy walked back from the chow hall that evening alone and deep in thought. He’d seen Mitchell in the late afternoon and all his younger brother had said was, “Don’t you even speak to me.” Mitchell was irate, but he had to realize he’d been wrong. Deep down inside, he had to know.
What had most consumed Tommy, however, was the thought of the money he’d saved. So far, he’d filled a half dozen cigar boxes with nearly thirty-eight hundred dollars, all of it hidden beneath some rotting floorboards in an abandoned shed he’d found. It wasn’t doing a bit of good, hidden away like that.
Mitchell and Blue suddenly sprang on him. Mitchell landed a hard blow to his middle, doubling him over, while Blue swung a short piece of two-by-four, hitting his head and knocking him out cold.
“What the—?” Mitchell hissed, turning on Blue. “You hit him with a board?”
“Just a short one.” Blue tossed it behind him. “He’s stronger than both of us.”
“Let’s get him out of here,” Mitchell said, looking around nervously. He reached down and grabbed Tommy’s shoulders. “Help me pull.”
“Hey! What’s going on?” Sam Blake bellowed from several yards away.
“Aw, shit,” Mitchell said under his breath. “Nothing,” he called back. “It’s nothing. Tommy fell is all. He’s fine, though. We got it.” He glared at Blue and hissed, “Help me, you damn fool.”
Blake hurried forward to reach them. “Move back,” he ordered when he got close. He stared down at Tommy, zeroing in on the blood pooling around his head. He turned and shouted for help.
“Look, he’s my brother,” Mitchell objected. Several of the hands were already heading toward them. “I got this.”
Blake ignored him. “Hurry up,” he yelled at the men approaching.
The men converged, all talking at once.
“What happened?”
“Aw, shit. Look at the blood.”
“What the hell happened?”
“Stop your blabbering and get him inside,” Blake snapped. “And you two,” he said, pointing at Mitchell and Blue and uttering a foul curse. “You stand right there.”
The smell of guilt hung on Mitchell and Blue as strong as horseshit. After Howerton learned of the incident with Tommy and took one look at his banged-up face, he knew precisely who the men in Tommy’s story were. Of course, when he came to, Tommy claimed he hadn’t seen the men who’d attacked him, which was no surprise. Tommy was as loyal as Mitchell was not.
The solution was simple, separate and conquer. Howerton ordered Blue put in one room and Mitchell in another. Mitchell played cool and feigned total ignorance, but Blue blurted out the whole story in less than five minutes. It hardly took any pressure at all. “Miss Wright?” Howerton repeated, suddenly more livid than before. “You attacked Miss Wright?”
“We didn’t attack her,” Blue hedged.
“You didn’t attack her because Tommy stopped you!”
There was such fury in Mr. Howerton’s face that Blue didn’t dare contest the point.
“How’d Tommy know you were there?” Howerton demanded.
“I don’t know. I thought we’d ditched him in town.”
Howerton glared at him. He was sorely tempted to kill the squirrelly little bastard right then and there. “You’ve got two seconds to get out of my sight.”
The next morning, Howerton ordered Tommy into town to see the doctor. When he’d ridden off, Howerton had Sam gather the rest of the men. “Mitchell and Blue jumped Tommy last night,” Howerton announced to the group of men, “because the night before that, Tommy stopped them from raping a lady. This is not acceptable.”
Blue was shifting back and forth on his feet, too nervous to stand still.
“What happened is between Tommy and us,” Mitchell interjected.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Howerton retorted. “You work for me, which means you answer to me. It means what you do reflects upon me, you ignorant fool. Now, you strip.”
“What?” Mitchell exclaimed.
“Take off your clothes,” Howerton repeated, enunciating clearly. “All of them.”
“No, sir. Hell, no.”
“Do it,” Howerton bellowed. “The rest of you, go cut yourselves a switch. Now!”
The men all did as told, all but Sam Blake and Quin.
“Come on, Mr. Howerton,” Blue whined. “Please. I swear we won’t never do nothing like that again. I swear it. We was just drunk and messin’ around. We probably wouldn’t even a’ done nothin’.”
Howerton looked at him with loathing. “You got a lesson coming,” he stated, “and right now, that lesson stands to last for five minutes. But for every minute you stand there and argue with me or defy my order, you’re going to get an extra five.”
“What if we quit?” Mitchell demanded. “Then you can’t touch us.”
“You were my employee when you tried to rape Miss Wright. You were on my time when you attacked Tommy. And, by God, you are going to face the consequences. You want to quit, that is fine by me, but you’ll do it after.” He paused. “I won’t warn you again about delaying. Five minutes can last a hell of a long time.”
Furious, Mitchell began unbuttoning his shirt, and Blue followed suit, although his fingers were trembling so badly it was hard to get them to work. “Please, Mr. Howerton,” he whimpered.
“Shut up,” Howerton replied coldly.
The men were already coming back with thin, pliable branches cut from the surrounding trees. Some were slashing them through the air, making a whooshing sound.
Mitchell threw his shirt down and started unfastening his trousers. “Tommy doesn’t want this.”
“I’m sure you’re right. Too bad for you I don’t give a damn,” Howerton replied hotly. “Tommy wouldn’t even tell me who was involved in the rape in the first place.”
“There was no rape,” Mitchell yelled.
“He wouldn’t even speak out against you once you busted his face up,” Howerton said, shaking his head.
“That was Blue,” Mitchell retorted.
Blue snapped his head up at Mitchell. “You said to!”
Mitchell glowered at him. “I didn�
��t say to use a board, did I?”
Sam Blake lowered his head and shook it in disgust.
Blue, still shifting his weight back and forth, covered his genitals with both hands and began to whine.
“Tie their arms up,” Howerton ordered. “No blows to the face. Everywhere else is fair game.”
Mitchell gritted his teeth as his hands were tied and then pulled high into the air. He was buck naked and totally exposed. He’d no sooner heard the word ‘go’ then he felt scores of biting stings. He swore and screamed in reaction to the pain. Blue was flat out bellowing.
Howerton watched his men go at the thrashing, some out of duty and others with enjoyment and great abandon. “Call it when you think it’s time,” Howerton said to Blake, who was observing without expression.
Chapter Fifteen
Em threw her back into hoeing for two reasons. First, the hard work kept her from dwelling on her worries, and, second, she needed to eat, and the way things were looking, if she didn’t grow it, she wouldn’t be eating it. It was too late for planting much this year, but she needed a bigger garden in the spring, and it was best to start on it now. Even when she sold the land, she’d keep the house and a few acres, and she’d need a substantial garden.
At the sound of a horse approaching, she looked up to see Tommy returning. He wore his hat low and the brim cast his face in shadow, but he was back, and the gladness that washed over her was almost overwhelming. She let the hoe drop and smoothed down a strand of hair before she started toward the house, pulling her work gloves off as she went. He reached the house first, dismounted and pulled an awkward-looking pack off his horse.
She had nearly reached him when she saw his face. One eye was swollen completely shut. “Oh, no,” she breathed. “Oh, Tommy!”
“It’s alright,” he said.
But it wasn’t. She’d known he would pay a price. “We should get you to a doctor. I’ll hitch up the wagon and take you into town.”
He shook his head. “I don’t need to. I just needed to see you.”
The words touched her to the extent that tears sprang to her eyes. “Come inside,” she said in a thick voice. He walked beside her, carrying the pack. She reached the door first and opened it, saying, “I’ll find some headache powder.”
“I had some already.”
“Oh. Good. Can you . . . will you sit?”
“Yes, ma’am. I mean, Em.”
She poured them each a glass of water, carried their drinks back to the table and then sat across from him, besieged with guilt. His face was swollen, his nose cut and his right eye swollen shut. “I’m so sorry. I was afraid they’d do something.”
“It’ll heal. I’ve had worse.”
“Is there anything I can get you?”
He shook his head and placed the pack on the table. “No, but I want you to have this,” he said, scooting the pack toward her.
She leaned forward and opened the leather flap curiously. “What is it?”
“Just look,” he replied shyly.
She pulled out a cigar box with twine wrapped around it. “Thank you, but I don’t smoke,” she teased with a straight face. He started to smile, but it hurt and he sobered. She slipped the twine off, opened the lid and her gaze flew to his. “What is all this?”
“It’s mine. I saved it.”
She looked down again and then back at him. “For how long?”
He thought about it. “I started working when I was thirteen.”
Em shook her head in bewilderment. “Why would you do this? Offer me your money?”
“You need it.”
She almost laughed—but she didn’t, because he was in earnest. “H-how much is it?”
“About thirty-eight hundred dollars, although I haven’t counted it in a long time.”
“Why?” she asked breathlessly. “I don’t understand. Why would you offer me your whole life savings? It is, isn’t it? It’s your whole life’s savings.”
He looked at a loss. “You need it,” he repeated. “And you’ll put it to good use. I figure you can hire some men to help you, and keep you safe, and you can buy seed or stock. Whatever you think’s best.”
She sat back, flabbergasted by the offer, and yet it was already beginning to sink in. She’d been without hope, and here he was, offering it up. On a silver platter in the disguise of an old cigar box. With that much money, she could hire workers. But who? How would she make sure they had the right experience, not to mention integrity? Ben wasn’t around to rely on and so she’d be alone, the lone decision maker. And how safe would she really be surrounded by men who worked for her?
She brought her steepled fingers to her lips, reeling from the realization that she didn’t know how to run a farm. She might well be stubborn enough and strong enough to do what needed doing—but how did she figure out what that was? She didn’t even know how far thirty-eight hundred dollars would go. How would she ever really know if she was getting a fair deal on seed or stock? And what seed or stock would be best? “I can’t accept this.”
He frowned in confusion. “Why not?”
She lowered her hands to the table with a soft sigh. “It is the kindest, most generous offer ever, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart, but I just . . . I can’t,” she said with a shake of her head. He looked hurt, which hurt her, but she only had to look at his face to see the damage knowing her had already done. She couldn’t risk his life savings. She wouldn’t. “I think, if I knew more . . . if I was sure I could run the farm . . . if I knew I could pay you back, then—”
“I didn’t ask to be paid back.”
“This is your money,” she declared, leaning forward. “I would never just take it. I’d accept is as a loan, maybe, if I really knew what I was doing, but . . . surely, you had plans for it.”
“No. Not really. I was always told to save some of my pay and so I did. Then I figured out if I didn’t get most of it put away, Mitchell would spend it.”
“But haven’t you thought about what to do with it? Haven’t you ever thought about doing something or buying something special? Something you always wanted?”
“Just this. You need the money and I want to help.”
For a moment, the selflessness of the response floored her and then her eyes widened as an idea dawned on her. A brilliant idea. An idea as brilliant as the shooting star she and Ben had witnessed. “Did you,” she began slowly because she wanted to get it out right, “did you ever want your own place?”
“I never thought much about it,” he admitted. “I always worked, so—”
“I . . . I wish you would,” she said carefully, haltingly, “because, well, I can’t run a farm by myself. But maybe . . . we could do it together.”
He nodded. “Yeah, sure. I’ll help all I can.”
He’d misunderstood. “I’m proposing a partnership,” she said solemnly.
He drew back slightly, clearly stunned by the suggestion.
“A business partnership,” she added. She paused, giving him a chance to speak, but he didn’t. “You and I would own the farm and work it together.”
“I don’t know if I can do that,” he said hesitantly.
She felt a crush of disappointment that made her want to cry. In fact, the backs of her eyes felt the pinpricks of tears. She looked at her hands and willed herself to be calm and as emotionless as possible. “Because you don’t want to leave the Triple H?”
“No, I wouldn’t care about leaving.”
She looked up at him quizzically. “Because I’m a woman?”
“No,” he exclaimed.
“Then . . . what?”
He shook his head and color crept into his face.
“Please,” she said. “I really want to know. Don’t . . . don’t worry about hurting my feelings. I just need to know.”
“It wouldn’t hurt your feelings. I’m just not the kind of man you become partners with.”
Now, she drew back, because the notion was so wrong. “You are exactly
the kind of man I’d want to be partners with,” she replied emphatically. “Why would you say that?” He looked away and shook his head, obviously troubled, and she bit her bottom lip, wondering if it was wrong to push him. But the idea seemed so right. Unless there was something he wasn’t telling her. “Won’t you just consider it?” she said beseechingly. “I’ll understand if you say no, but . . . this is good land.”
He looked at her searchingly. “It is,” he finally said. “So is Mr. Howerton’s. It . . . it’s great land.”
“And I’m a hard worker,” she said passionately.
“I know that.”
“You’ve offered what you have,” she said, gesturing to the money between them. “And I can offer what I have. This land. It was left to me. Ben saw to it that it was all left to me. Oh, Tommy, I so want to make this place work. I don’t want to just sell it.”
He nodded slowly. “I’d want to make it work, too,” he admitted. “If I was you, I’d want to keep it and make it work.”
“If I knew what to grow—”
“What—” Tommy’s voice broke and he cleared his throat. “What did your uncle grow?”
“Wheat and corn. And we had cattle, but they got sold off.”
“Tobacco might be good,” Tommy ventured as he sat up straighter. “It takes good soil and it takes a lot out of the soil, so you can’t grow it every year, but this is good land for it.”
She nodded, hoping to encourage his suggestions. “What about cattle?”
“No. Mr. Howerton’s too big to compete with. Sheep or goats maybe.”
“Goats? What a funny idea.”
“Their milk makes a good cheese. They eat less than cattle, a lot less, and no one else is doing it around here that I know of.”
She sensed enthusiasm from him and it gave her heart. “Let’s just pretend for a moment that we were going to do this,” she said carefully, trying to hold back a smile. “Would we need many hands?”
“Some.”
He was considering it. She could see it in his face. In the watchfulness of his gaze. “You know what would be perfect? If we could find people like us, willing to work now and have it pay off later.”
