Dark Journey Home

by Cherie Shaw

  “Well spoken, sis. Welcome home.” Clara smiled and reached over the counter to clasp her sister’s hand.

  Lulu glanced back over her shoulder, to gaze out the front window to where a few folks stood awaiting the overdue stage, then let out a deep sigh of resignation.

  Lord Beckford had been puzzled by the loud disturbance from across the road, and wondered what Henry Adams had been up to now, but then his thinking was distracted by the loud creaking of the oncoming stage, as horses’ hooves clattered heavily across the wooden bridge, at the edge of town, then within seconds the vehicle pulled up in front of the hotel/stage stop, sloshing mud every which way. A disheveled bunch, the passengers, as they slowly and achingly alit from the stage interior into the still-pouring heavy rainfall and Lord Beckford grinned appreciatively at the bedraggled, frowning middle-aged lady, as she alit the vehicle, and then glared in his direction.

  Noticing his western garb, she moaned aloud. “I see those injuns haven’t scalped that white head of yours yet, you old scoundrel, you.” She snapped, as her heavy mud-soaked skirts followed her to the walkway. Lord Beckford took her arm, then grabbed her two small valises in one hand from the walk, where the driver had set them, and whispered into her ear, “I believe, my dear Amelia, that little temper of yours is why I love you so desperately. Quite a refreshing change from the sniveling, gushing females of London society.”

  Her lips quivered in a half smile, as she whispered back, “Oh shut up, you old fool.”

  <><><>

  A steady rapping on her door awoke Olivia from a restful nap. The first thing she saw when she sleepily opened her eyes, was the lovely rose sitting in a vase on the dresser. She’d fallen asleep with a smile on her lips. The rapping continued, and as she remembered her uncle’s warning to always ask before opening her door, she called, “Who is it, please?”

  A very agitated female voice answered, “Olivia, are you alright? Open this door immediately.” It couldn’t be, but it sounded like….Olivia quickly turned the key in the lock, then flung open the door, just before a bedraggled Amelia, all the way from England, hurried in and grabbed Olivia in a bearlike hug. All Olivia could do at this point was sputter, choking back a sob.

  “Amelia….how in the world did you get here?”

  “The same way you did, child. Now just let me take a look at you.” The older woman stepped back, and eyed Olivia up and down. This was the most pleasant surprise Olivia could imagine. She had loved this woman as a second mother, for so many years. Amelia had given so much time and love to caring for Olivia and Garth, that they often wondered if they deserved it.

  ”Uncle Claude,” she laughed, as he stepped into the room toting two small valises, “You knew all along that Amelia would be following us here, didn’t you?”

  “No, Niece, to be honest, I had discussed it with her, but we hadn’t come to a decision when we left. I sent her a note, just before you and I boarded the Silver Princess, as I had decided at the last minute, that you probably would like her for a companion. I had planned on asking Maria and Ricardo to travel with us, but wasn’t sure if they would agree. And then there was Logan, and I knew you would need a female companion with you after all.” With this, Claude chuckled.

  Amelia looked at Claude, “Logan? Logan who?” She continued to stare at Claude. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?” Her brown eyes were snapping sparks now. When neither spoke, she said, “Oh well, shame on you anyway, Lord Beckford, for dragging my Olivia to this God-for-saken no-man’s land.” She turned back to Olivia, “Are you sure you’re alright, dear?” She worriedly asked.

  “Of course, dear Amelia. In fact I couldn’t be better, especially now that you are here. Speaking of being alright, your clothes are soaking, and I can see that I’m going to be taking care of you for a change.” Olivia smiled.

  “Nonsense child, I didn’t follow you across this uncivilized land for you to care for me.”

  “You will have absolutely no say in the matter. I am so glad you are here.” She turned to her uncle. “Uncle Claude, will you order hot water to be brought up……oh, and an extra bed to be set up in here, along with linens, towels, then maybe a pot of hot tea?”

  “Of course, Ollie.” He turned to go, then looked back at Amelia with a smile, winked at her secretively, then hastened down the hallway. Amelia actually blushed, then to cover up, she said, “Bloody old fool.” Olivia looked puzzled for a moment, and then smiled in understanding, as the rain continued to pour outside the warm comfort of the room.

  The rain continued for two more days, only occasionally letting up, while Olivia enjoyed conversing with Amelia, and introducing her around. Of course Garth got a tongue lashing from the older woman, for not returning home to the manor in all those years, but deep down, they were both glad to finally be together and she felt that Garth couldn’t have chosen better in a wife than Bridgett. She, if it could be done, would certainly tame this young man, once and for all.

  When Amelia had met Logan at dinner that evening, her woman’s intuition told her that this was one fine young man, and she also noted Olivia’s demure, then at times antagonistic, attitude toward him. However, after conversing with Maria in private, this Latino Señora certainly had her own opinions on the subject of romance; she decided to just let matters follow their own course. Olivia had waited all her life for this, and she had hoped she would choose well. Though the course of true love never ran smooth, she hoped there wouldn’t be too many battle scars left on each participant.

  On the third day after Amelia’s arrival, the sun managed to peek bravely from behind the few remaining clouds, and the town’s citizens were finally able to leave umbrellas and slickers behind, as they began a steady cleanup of yards, walkways, and roads.

  Plans for re-claiming the Triple-B had been postponed until the weather had cleared. Bart McCain, the older ranch hand, had ridden out to the ranch early figuring to talk to Cougar Olson and Ranger Welby. It had been decided that in such weather, nothing much could have changed with the ranch situation, though now he needed to see how things were going.

  Arroyos still seemed to be running full, but McCain would keep to high ground, and was familiar with the trail. His horse, after several days in the stable, and full of oats, was raring to go and straining at the bit.

  <><><>

  Henry Adams had not been seen around town since his ‘visit’ with Lulu. However the doctor had gone by the boarding house twice to change the bandage, and check Henry’s wound, which, he informed folks, was healing nicely. The doctor’s opinion of his patient was wisely kept to himself, though deep down, he began to see this character as nothing less than shady, however entertaining, according to local gossip. He wouldn’t be at all saddened to see the varmint leave town on the next stage.

  A few citizens had even suggested taking up a collection to buy the middle-aged Casanova a ticket, but they couldn’t decide where to send him. One fellow suggested a one way ticket to the nearest Apache camp, but, on a more serious note, had added that he didn’t “think that would be on the stage route”. News of the man’s evil intentions had somehow made the local grapevine and now more folks than usual were carrying arms for protection. They said, in case ‘dangerous’ ole’ Henry decided to purchase another one or two-shot derringer.

  Claude and his nephew, along with Logan and Ricardo, had just finished an early breakfast in the hotel restaurant, and were now on a second cup of coffee, as Ricardo lit up a long cigar. “Well, what do you say, Señor Claude? Shall we pay this attorney Phillips a visit?” He asked.

  “I believe we have put off seeing the chap long enough. We’ve let him stew a few days longer than planned.” Claude’s blue eyes twinkled, enjoying the thought.

  After taking a swallow of the strong coffee, Logan joined in, “I’ll enjoy seeing that crooked lawyer try to explain himself out of the mess he’s gotten himself into.”

  “Uncle Claude,” Garth began, as he settled his coffee cup into the saucer, “wh
en we go, we should go together, quietly and early, as we spoke of last night. That is before the ladies come down for breakfast. If I know my wife, and I do, I know she’ll not want to be left out of this venture. I’ve kind of spoiled her and now it’s hard to say ‘no’ to her, short of tying her up that is.”

  Claude chuckled at the thought of his nephew’s strong-willed wife wrapping his nephew around her dainty little finger, much less the thought of Garth actually tying her up. That would be the day. “I know what you mean, Garth. What do you say we head down the road a bit, get this thing over with?”

  Ricardo joined in, “I asked Maria to try to keep Olivia and Bridget engaged in conversation for as long as she can, then when they do come down to breakfast, Dolly can inform the ladies that we all had an ‘errand’ to run.”

  “Good enough.” Claude stated. “Let’s go boys.”

  Logan led the way out the door, anxious to face this Claybourne Phillips. He hadn’t liked the man the first time he’d seen him, and was sure he would like him even less now.

  Claude had already spoken to the town marshal of Coyote Springs, Dayton Rhodes, and in case of trouble in town, the marshal was available, but anything occurring outside of the town limits, would have to be handled by Sheriff Paul Denton, although chances were that this was a private matter, and neither the marshal nor the Sheriff would be needed.

  Marshal Rhodes had mentioned, off-hand, that he had thought it a bit strange at the time many years ago how someone like Perkins, who was near penniless, could afford a thriving ranch like the Triple-B, but hadn’t felt it was his concern at the time. Ownership would have had to be questioned in court, and Marshal Rhodes certainly knew the law, but was, admittedly, unfamiliar with most legal proceedings; the same with Sheriff Dayton.

  Should the local ‘outcast’ Henry Birch, in any way, bother Claude’s niece, that’s when the marshal, and the sheriff, would step in. Henry didn’t know what he was dealing with. Bothering a lady in any part of the west, especially Texas, was the ultimate of crimes, and took precedence over just about anything, short of murder, even bank robbery and cattle rustling weren’t considered as bad.

  Logan Wakefield, for the last few days, had been quietly watching for Henry to show his face anywhere near the hotel where Olivia was staying. He had his own way of dealing with men of Adams’ brand, and he hadn’t forgotten how either.

  <><><>

  As the four men crossed the road, then headed towards the small law office of Clayborne Phillips, Claude mentioned his previous talk with Sheriff Dayton. “This Dayton is a nice enough chap, probably a good Sheriff too.” He explained, “He said he could help remove a squatter from the ranch, if necessary, but as far as getting a posse together to remove that Perkins chap, he didn’t think that many townsfolk would go up against the ornery bloke. They seem to think that Perkins is one tough character.”

  Logan, Garth and Ricardo all laughed at that thought, and Ricardo offered, “I think we make our own posse, no?”

  The others nodded in full agreement, as they reached the door of the small law office, which was only a short walk from the hotel, and across the road, also situated right next to a ladies’ dress shop, in a false-fronted building. Potted plants lined the boardwalk, and the small fenced yard was clean and well-kept. ‘ATTORNEY AT LAW” the sign over the door said, so with Logan leading, the four men just plowed right on into the room.

  Attorney Phillips was caught off guard, and frowned at the intrusion. He was seated behind a well-polished large oak desk, and had been in the middle of a serious discussion with none other than Jinx Holderman, ramrod of the Triple-B.

  Logan spoke first, “Been mistreatin’ any horses lately, Mr. Phillips?” He couldn’t resist riling the man right off.

  “You, is it?” Clayborne Phillips shoved back his chair, and stood quickly. “Shouldn’t you be out on a range somewhere herding cattle? Leave my office at once!” He shouted.

  “I kinda’ like it here, looks mighty cozy with just the two of you sittin’ here like this.” Logan drawled, as he moved further into the room, to allow the rest of his group to enter.

  Jinx Holderman sputtered, half rising from his chair, then pointed at Logan, “What’s the meaning of this intrusion?” Then he noticed Ricardo who had moved around to the side of Logan, “You……you two no longer work for the Triple-B, so you have no business here.” He shouted, as he caught the cigar that had been stuck in the side of his mouth, and had fallen out when he spoke.

  Logan answered, “You may as well sit back down, Holderman, because we’ve a bit of discussion here to tend to, an’ it may take awhile. Wouldn’t want you to tire yourself half out of that chair like you are.” While Logan spoke, he was casually resting his right hand on the butt of the .45 Colt, which sat loosely in its holster. He liked the old familiar feel of that six-gun, after eight long years, and now he felt right at home again. Ricardo held his Winchester 17-shot repeater rifle in his right hand, and Lord Beckford wore a smile as well as his holstered colt.

  Garth wore his large intimidating presence well, along with the double-barreled shotgun he held.

  “This is a private meeting.” Phillips blustered, his voice a little shaky. “You’ll have to make an appointment.”

  “We just cut ourselves in on this ‘private’ meetin’.” Logan answered. “Just made ourselves an appointment too.”

  “I’ll call the Marshal.” Holderman offered.

  “Huh uh.” Logan retorted. “The Marshal happens to be right busy at the moment, havin’ his coffee at the restaurant, an’ said to tell you nice folks to not bother him for a few hours, that is unless some brave fella gets himself into a squabble, then he’ll send the undertaker over.”

  Holderman stuck the bent cigar back into the side of his mouth, glaring.

  Phillips was outnumbered, and knew it would do no good to call for assistance. Most of the folks in town didn’t care much for him, for some reason or other, besides; they probably would just crowd around to watch the ‘show’. The odds were against him, and he didn’t care much for the way that auburn-haired, bearded giant was eyeing him. He seemed to be an army all in himself, and would be one tough opponent in battle. He didn’t like the way the big man was handling that shotgun so carelessly either.

  Phillips sat back down, and his manner was almost laughable, as he tried to straighten his shoulders, and puff out his chest, looking more like a banty rooster in a hen house, than a lawyer. His tone of voice was pathetic when he spoke again. “Folks, this is a business office, and I’m sure that any problem that you have, can be straightened out reasonably.” Then he seemed to notice Lord Beckford for the first time, and now looking him up and down, he said, “I don’t believe we have met, sir.”

  Beckford stepped forward, and extended his hand across the desk, “How do you do, old chap. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lord Claude Beckford, recently from England; you have been managing my property for me for over ten years now, and I have come to view my holdings, and take possession of the Triple-B. So I believe this so-called private meeting with my foreman here, Mr. Holderman, does concern me in the fullest.”

  Holderman half-arose from his chair again, “Now see here….” He began. Logan walked over, and gently tapped him on the shoulder, “Sit back down, Jinx. You’re up to your big ears in this thing, and you know it.” He stated.

  Phillips ignored Lord Beckford’s outstretched hand, as he stuttered, “Why……why Lord Beckford. This is absurd, impossible! Why you sold that ranch years ago to a Mr. Woody Perkins, who has been in possession ever since. Perhaps you are forgetful, sir.”

  “Do my monthly statements from you lie, Mr. Phillips, doctored as they appear to be? They are on file in one of my offices, back in London. Perhaps you, yourself, are the forgetful one.” Then Beckford continued, “Oh, and by the way, just a small matter has come to my attention.” And here he leaned over the desk, “Not that I need the money, but every cent that ranch has earned is part of my niece and
nephew’s inheritance, and it doesn’t set well with me when my family is cheated. Just where are all those bank drafts for the sale of cattle that’s been driven to the rail yards, and sold to buyers. You will give me an accounting for each head of cattle that has been sold in the last ten years, or it will all be taken out of your hide, sir.” Lord Beckford stepped back.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Phillips was worried, and the strain now showed on his face, as he tried to defend himself, “It isn’t my fault them outlaws rustled stock. I can’t be responsible for that.” Then he realized what he’d just said. “Well, anyway I don’t know anything about any sale of cattle.”

  “You mean you didn’t get your cut out of the money made from each cattle drive?” Lord Beckford’s ire was up now that he faced this attorney that he had trusted for so many years. The man was obviously guilty.

  “”Uncle Claude,” Garth broke in, “let’s get this over with, and haul these two gents out to the ranch. Some of the town’s folks tell me that a good way to hold trial is to find a good solid oak tree, and a good sturdy rope, then they just hold a quick trial under that oak tree. Saves a lot of time for the district judge, who hates to travel too much anyway, with injuns prowling around and all.”