Marblestone Mansion, Book 6

by Marti Talbott

  “What does she say?” Hannish asked.

  Leesil unfolded the letter, and began to read it aloud. “…but if he is determined, I shall not protest and do as he wishes” She folded the letter back up and laid it on the table.

  “Leave the castle?” Moan asked. “Would he truly do that?”

  Hannish rubbed the back of his neck. “We fear our lads will seek to join a union here as well, which as my brother pointed out, would make the homes we build more expensive. We make little profit as it is.”

  “Aye, but neither you nor Claymore need to make much of a profit,” Moan pointed out.

  Hannish said, “True, but all lads hope to have some measure of reward for their hard work, other than just giving families a respectable home in which to live.”

  “Homes that shall not fall apart in ten years like the Swinton homes,” Moan muttered.

  “At least we have that comfort,” Leesil said. “I care not to have lasses at my door in ten years complainin’ of my husband’s faulty workmanship.”

  “What do you think Uncle Cameron will do?” the normally quite Lenox asked.

  “He’ll not like takin’ money from me even if it means keepin’ his business runnin’,” Hannish answered. “He has his pride the same as any man.”

  “But he cannae seriously be thinkin’ of givin’ up the MacGreagor castle and all the glorious land,” Leesil said. “What would become of the graveyard? I would go back to Scotland and live there myself, if for no other reason than to save the graveyard.”

  Hannish studied his wife’s eyes. “You would?”

  “Fear not, husband, I would let you come…I would let all of you come.”

  Hannish smiled. “I thank you for that, at least, but let us wait to see what Cameron says. He will call at the regular time on Sunday, and I shall ask him what he intends to do.”

  “Agreed,” Leesil said.

  “We could go,” Lenox said.

  “Back to Scotland?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Mother, we have found few friends here and…” Lenox started.

  His twin sister Paulette quickly interrupted, “I have always wanted to live in a castle.”

  “It sounds glorious, but ‘tis a lot of work to keep it livable,” Hannish pointed out. “There shall always be repairs and improvements necessary.”

  “Then I am fortunate to have three sons,” said Moan.

  “I would not like losin’ a good secretary,” said Hannish thoughtfully, “but at least the castle would stay in the family.”

  “Temporarily, of course,” said Moan, “until you decide to go back.”

  “If ever,” Hannish put in.

  “Perhaps Justin will want it when he is grown,” Leesil said.

  “Perhaps so,” Hannish agreed, “but there are politics to consider. The Scots still have many problems with the English, and the English with the Scots.”

  Moan chuckled, “Then I shall run for political office and do my best to change the situation.”

  “Or you shall be the only secretary in all the world to live in a castle,” Leesil said, making everyone laugh.

  “Are you seriously considerin’ it?” Hannish asked.

  “We must wait, of course, until your brother decides, but I shall not say no unless my family objects.”

  “In that case, know this – if my brother comes and stays but a year or two, you must again change places and come live with us.”

  Moan sighed. “Cousin, I believe I would rather stay in Scotland until Wade is grown, not in the castle, of course, but in Scotland. I thank you for the kind offer of lettin’ us come back, but Scotland is our true home.”

  Elizabeth covered her husband’s hand with hers. “I agree.”

  “Good,” said Hannish, “‘tis nearly settled, at least on our part.”

  *

  Winter meant snow and snow meant shorter hours at the construction company, more inside games, more music and plenty of laughter. Yet, reading still ranked high on everyone’s list of things to do, and newspapers were always in demand.

  Hannish stood near the window of his study and watched the fluffy snowflakes drift down for the sky. Soon it would add another inch to the five inches already on the ground. He happily accepted the newspaper that Prescot brought him, nodded his appreciation and then went back to his roll top desk. The story on the front page instantly grabbed his attention.

  The Daily Review

  Tombstone, Arizona Territory

  OUTLAW Slippery Jack Walker dead.

  Over in Flagstaff, Slippery Jack Walker was done in by an unknown man, who fled shortly after the shooting. Wanted in four states for starting fires and for doing other unmentionable deeds, Slippery Jack Walker is accused of killing five and has a bounty of $2,000.00 on his head, but it appears the man who shot him isn’t interested in the money.

  “It was a fair fight,” said a witness. “Slippery Jack raised his cane gun, fired and missed. Then the stranger fired that newfangled Colt automatic pistol and hit Slippery Jack three times square in the chest. He fell dead right where he stood. Never seen nothin’ like it; never seen that kind of pistol before neither.

  The man who did the deed is described as having dark brown hair, but other than that, he was an ordinary looking fellow. “Go after him? He done the world a favor,” Sheriff Ketchum said when asked.

  *

  In the upstairs bedroom she once shared with her sister, Patella, Sharon Green folded her copy of the newspaper and set it on her bed. She knelt down, withdrew a small wooden box from under the bed and opened it. Once more, she carefully counted the money Douglas Swinton paid her to lie to the sheriff. It was enough to buy a new milk cow and to build a new barn, but she dreaded telling her father. She was certain she would get yelled at for it, but in the end, Patella’s family deserved some payment for what Swinton did to them.

  “Like to see him try to buy his way out of hell,” she whispered as she stuffed the money in the pocket of her skirt, picked up the newspaper, and headed out the door.

  *

  Why anyone would sail to America in the dead of winter was beyond her, but there the duchess was, waiting with the second-class passengers while the first class was allowed to disembark first.

  It was a matter of money. Wasn’t it always?

  As it happened, the only ticket she could get was in second class and the accommodations were tolerable, she supposed. Even with rough seas, she gratefully did not suffer the sickness this time. Naturally, second class limited her ability to meet men of great wealth, but there was nothing she could do about that, since the gates to first class were kept guarded day and night. There were a few men in second class who found her delightful, but none could afford the kind of life she coveted, nor offer the excitement she found with the train robber, Jedediah Tanner.

  Nevertheless, there was some good news. She managed to sit in on a game of poker or two, which netted her enough to survive in America for at least a year, without having to sell her precious few jewels.

  Furthermore, she was at last on the same continent as Hannish MacGreagor and she had not forgotten…indeed, she had not for a moment forgotten her vow to seek her revenge. It was just a matter of time now.

  *

  It was the middle of the night in America, as opposed to the middle of the day in Scotland when Cathleen gave birth to a baby girl.

  “She is well, very well,” Cameron said on the other end of the telephone. “They are both doing very well. We shall name her Anna.”

  “I am so happy,” said Leesil, sitting up in her bed. “Please ask Cathleen to call me as soon as she has recovered sufficiently. How is Blair?”

  “Blair cannae quit lookin’ at her new sister, who is quite naturally the most beautiful baby in the world.”

  “Naturally,” Leesil said. “Give Cathleen a hug for me. Here, your brother wishes to speak to you.”

  “Congratulations, little brother,” said Hannish.

  “Thank you. Brother, I sold th
e company yesterday eve.”

  “You did?”

  “Aye, and for a tidy sum. He is a good man and he will treat the workers well. I confess I was relieved when the papers were finally signed.”

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “I am going to take Moan up on his offer, but for just a year. That should give us all time to see what we want to do. Will you talk to him?”

  Hannish chuckled, “As soon as the sun comes up.”

  “Good grief, I forgot what time it is there. Go back to bed.”

  “We shall. Our love to Cathleen.” Hannish hung up the phone, climbed back in bed and whispered, “Cameron sold his business. They are America bound.”

  Leesil wrapped her arms around her husband. “At last.”

  *

  In late January, when the ground was nearly frozen solid, the hired men worked inside the warehouse, building doors, cabinets, and frames for the windows, as well as frames for the window screens. Window screens were a luxury Claymore and Hannish decided to add to houses, to make them more saleable. Now that Loretta Swinton had sold her dead husband’s house building business to a Denver developer, they constantly had to come up with ways to make their houses more tempting.

  At least with Swinton gone, they were able to purchase the advertisement on the walls of the baseball outfields for the upcoming year. All the MacGreagors and Whitfields eagerly awaited the start of the next season.

  It was a good time of year for Claymore and Hannish to go over the books with Moan, draw up the plans for the next year’s house building, and discuss buying more land. Seated around a table in Claymore’s office, they had already drunk far more coffee than was healthy, and were concentrating on a new three-bedroom floor plan.

  “I have secured passage back to Scotland in March,” Moan reminded them. “I shall not be here to see that you to take a monthly inventory.”

  “I am hoping Cameron might be interested in your position,” Hannish said. “He kept the books well enough for his business.”

  Moan chuckled. “The duke becomes a secretary and the secretary lives in a castle?”

  “We have not yet thought what to do with the title,” Hannish answered. “We shall see what becomes of us a year from now.”

  When the door to the outer office opened, Moan left his chair and went to see who it was. “Well, if it isn’t Thomas Boland.”

  Hannish instantly got up and went to see for himself. As soon as he saw him, he excitedly shook Tom’s hand. “You have come home, at long last. Welcome back.”

  “I was not certain you would have me back,” Tom said. He shook hands with Claymore and then with Moan.

  “Of course, you are welcome back. Have you been to the house yet? Does Leesil know?” Hannish asked.

  Tom shook his head. “Not yet, I just got to town and when I asked, they said you were here.”

  “You have come to stay, have you not?” Claymore asked. “My wife has promised never to gossip again, though I can’t say how much longer that will hold.”

  Tom nodded. “They would have found out anyway, Mr. Whitfield.”

  “Then you intend to stay?” Moan asked.

  “I hope to. This is home, the best home I have ever had. Have the reporters come and gone?”

  “It was just as you said,” Hannish answered. “They came from as far away as France, but aye, they are gone.”

  “I am relieved. No harm has come to anyone on my account?” Tom asked.

  “None whatsoever,” Hannish answered. “Your cousin Rose wrote a letter and it was printed in the New York newspapers. I imagine everyone in town has read it.”

  “I expected them to search her out for a comment. What does the letter say?” Tom asked.

  “It says precisely the same as you told us – you were never a member of the gang,” Hannish answered.

  “She has absolved you of all guilt,” Claymore added.

  “Again, I am relieved.”

  Said Hannish, “I had a little talk with Mr. Moore at the newspaper, and he has assured me, he’ll not be pesterin’ any of us ever again.”

  Tom’s eyes widened. “You threatened him, Mr. Hannish?”

  “I merely said I would buy the newspaper and run him out of town.”

  “You did not tell me that,” Claymore complained. “In the future, I…”

  “Is Madeline well?” Tom interrupted. “I have thought of nothing but her since the day I left. Do you think she will forgive me?”

  “She is gone, Tom,” Hannish sadly admitted.

  “Gone? Gone where?”

  Hannish opened the top drawer in Moan’s desk and withdrew a penny postcard. “Cheyenne.” He handed it to Tom and let him read the message.

  I am well

  Warmest Regards, Madeline

  “The Dakota Territory? I wonder why she went there?”

  “I have not the slightest idea,” Hannish answered. “She dinna know where she was goin’ when she left. Perhaps she simply stayed onboard after the train went through Denver.”

  “I must find her.”

  “Yes, you must,” said Hannish, “and you must bring her home with you. My wife will love plannin’ a winter weddin’.”

  “So will Abigail,” Claymore added. “She shall talk of nothing else for weeks.”

  “I will bring her back, if Madeline will have me. Thank you, Mr. Hannish.”

  Hannish grabbed his heavy coat off the rack, and put it on. “Is there anythin’ else we should know about your dealin’s with the Dalton Gang? I’d not like being surprised again.”

  “Nothing. What I told you was the whole truth.”

  “Good.” Hannish pulled his Colorado timepiece out of his pocket. “You’ve just enough time to catch the train to Denver.” He left Claymore and Moan behind and led the way down the stairs, but when he got to the bottom, he stopped and lowered his voice. “From what I read in the paper, you are a better shot than Bittercreek thought.”

  Tom looked him in the eye. “You got that from reading a newspaper?”

  “Fear not, I am the only one who suspects. Yet, I have often wondered how an accomplished killer such as Swinton managed to miss.”

  “Perhaps the barrel of his cane gun got bent slightly.”

  Hannish chuckled, opened the door and stepped out into the cold. “I would have liked seein’ that gunfight. I fear they are a thing of the past and I have not yet seen one.” He turned and started them walking down the street toward the train station. “Do you need money, lad?”

  “I could use an advance on my wages.”

  Hannish dug in his pocket and pulled out several bills. “Consider it a weddin’ present.”

  “And if she will not marry me?”

  “She loves you, of that I am certain. She will likely say no in the beginnin’, but if a lad is wise, he shall be persistent. She will marry you.”

  “If she does not shoot me on sight,” Tom said. “Will you take my horse home?” He stopped when they reached the drugstore window. Mrs. Swinton was sitting at a table inside, talking to her best friend Pearl…with a smile on her face.

  Hannish guessed what Tom was thinking. “Mrs. Swinton is doing very well these days.”

  “Does she know he is dead?”

  “Aye, I told her as soon as I read it in the newspaper. She dinna cry one tear over him, I am happy to say.”

  “I have worried about that,” Tom said as they continued down the street. “Is Miss Leesil well?”

  “She is with child and has forbid us to bring fish into the house. Last time, it was bacon. I cannae wait to see what a third child will deprive us of.”

  They were almost to the station when Tom said, “Please tell Miss Leesil how sorry I am?”

  “I shall. You best hurry now; the train will leave in less than a minute.” Hannish watched Tom run inside, come out a few minutes later with a ticket, board the train and find a seat. He touched the rim of his hat in a sort of salute, as the train began to move and Tom waved. As so
on as the train was gone, he heaved a sigh of relief and hurried back to his office. There was much to do and not much time to do it.

  *

  Riding in the seat of a train instead of on the back of a horse that had to be controlled, gave Tom a lot of time think. August in Colorado was nothing like August in Arizona, and there were times when he thought the heat would do him in. It took time for him to find Slippery Jack, but from what Madeline said, the best guess was that Swinton would head south to Tucson. Fortunately, Tom found him north of Tucson, holed up in Flagstaff where ladies were already dazzled by his good looks and charm.

  After the deed was done, the heat drove Tom into the seclusion of the cool mountains, where he could hunt, fish and watch the wildlife. He was content, if such a thing were possible for a man running from his troubles. Yet, in the reflection of every lake, in the cloud formations in the sky, and in his restless sleep, Madeline’s face appeared. The wind seemed to whistle her name and he took note of everything that was the color of her eyes.

  Occasionally, the pain of missing her caused him to turn his horse toward home, but then he would regain his resolve and keep going. He saw peaks and valleys, birds of a dozen different kinds and came face to face with a ferocious brown bear. By the time the mosquitoes had nearly eaten him alive, and the first winter blizzard threatened to trap him, he was more than ready to go home.

  On the train, he tried hard to relax, but his excitement mixed with a healthy dose of anxiety kept his nerves in a knots. Killing Swinton, he decided, was far easier than facing Madeline again. Yet, there was no other option. His heart and his future were in bondage and whatever her answer, Madeline was the only one who could set him free.

  Tom hardly noticed when the train came to a stop in Denver, let most of the passengers off, boarded a few more and then pulled out of the station. Nor did he notice the sun going down behind the Rocky Mountains or the times the train briefly stopped to renew the water supply, pick up mail, and a passenger or two.