Ralph Compton Tucker's Reckoning (9781101607770)

by Compton, Ralph; Mayo, Matthew P.

  The grumbling had no effect on him, but he heard every bit of it and made a mental notation of each man who uttered a whining phrase. These were largely city men who preferred surveying streets or working for the railroad in warm weather and in flat places, unimaginative men who cared little for challenge. These would not be men who would accompany him and his crew on the first wealth-proving forays into the deeper forests far beyond the reach of town. But for a first and most fruitful reconnoitering trip, they were proving adequate.

  * * *

  The big marshal, as usual, was seated behind his desk, sipping a tin cup of coffee.

  “Sorry to barge in like this, Marshal.”

  “Howdy, Emma.” He slumped back in his chair, refolded his hands on his paunchy belly.

  For the first time, Emma noticed the man looked more old and fat than big and strapping as he had her entire lifetime.

  “You want a cup of coffee?”

  It sounded to Emma like an afterthought. “No, thanks, Marshal. I do need help, though.”

  “What’s new there?” he mumbled, leaning forward again over a stack of dodgers. He nodded toward the yellowed papers. “Been looking through these, trying to find a match to that killer I let you escape with.”

  “Something wrong, Marshal? I didn’t mean to cause you grief.”

  “Well, you just keep on doing that just the same, don’t you, Emma Farraday?” He stood and hiked up his trousers.

  “I’ll come back later, Marshal. I just remembered I have to talk with Louisa.”

  “Yeah, well, you just do that. I got a pile of things to attend to, you know. Don’t always need to go bailing out a Farraday every time a fart’s fired across your bow.”

  She left the office and shut the door. Well, she thought. If that doesn’t beat all. That was the first time he’d ever talked to her like this, and the odd thing was, she wasn’t so sure she didn’t deserve it. She saw recent events through his eyes and it seemed to her she had indeed taken advantage of him and of the fact that he had at one time been close friends with her father and uncle.

  Arliss had never paid him a kind word, but had been cautious about making slanting remarks about the marshal around her while she was growing up. But now that she thought on it, Uncle Payton hadn’t exactly been friendly with the marshal in recent years the way he used to be back when her daddy had been alive.

  She shucked a glove and dug a hand in her trouser pocket, felt a few coins. Enough for a cup of coffee, maybe a bite of breakfast at Mae’s.

  She worked her way out of her sodden wool mackinaw and shook a few more beads of water off her hat. By the time she had her hands curled around a cup of coffee, a shadow fell across her table by the window.

  She looked up to see a handsome, thin man standing before her table. He wore a dandified chin beard, a curly mustache, and wavy blond hair nearly touching his shoulders. He was smiling down at her. She noticed that his clothes were of a fine quality, with colors that matched, and his overcoat looked soft and new, not like her patched wool check coat that had been her father’s when he was a young man. He’d always said that a wool garment never really wore out, just got more comfortable and familiar.

  The man stood smiling at her, his eyes narrowed slightly, his head tipped to the side. On him it almost looked cute. Or maybe he was trying to look that way. Then it occurred to her that he was probably the rich stranger with the surveying crew Samuel had met in the woods. The thought annoyed her, but she had to find out what he wanted. “What in the hell do you want?”

  As soon as she said it, she heard Arliss in her ear, saying something about never catching a man because she was too crass, too much like a boy herself in so many ways. She bit back a sigh and kept her face stony. She was steamed about the ranch, the sour meeting with the marshal, and now with this wealthy stranger, staring like a man gone dumb, it felt annoying of a sudden.

  “Pardon me, ma’am. Allow me to introduce myself.” He bowed before her table, though it looked much like a curtsy and she wished he would stop it. The eatery was fairly full and most everyone in there had stopped chatting when he came in. She had a good idea who he was, and he was making a right fool of himself.

  “What do you want?” Again, it sounded as if she were about to bite his head off, so she tried again. “I mean, what . . . do you want?” Still didn’t sound right. Hell, she just wanted her steak and eggs and then she supposed she’d head on back home. This was turning out to be a headache of a trip. Should have just stayed at the ranch and tried to come up with a plan with Arliss and Tucker that didn’t involve shooting everyone in town whom Arliss suspected of trying to get the ranch.

  “My dear lady,” he said. “I should like to buy you breakfast, or at least a cup of coffee.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Why?” Here it comes, she thought. This man was looking to her as if he wanted something that maybe she didn’t want to give—the Farraday land, for one thing. “What’s your game?”

  He ran a hand through his long hair, pulled it off his forehead. “No game, ma’am, I assure you. But if I may say so, you have captured my heart and I should like the opportunity to revel in my captivity, or at least the chance to free myself from your grasp.”

  As soon as he started in with his patter, Emma guessed he was a shallow dandy with something on his mind that was a whole lot different from what she had in mind, namely to have a meal and think about how she might get out from under Grissom’s thumb.

  The man pulled out the other chair at the little table and said, “May I?”

  “Looks like you already made that decision,” she said. He stood there, so she waved a hand at the chair. “Be my guest.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Enough with the ‘ma’am’ business. I’m Emma Farraday.” She held out her hand, aware for the first time as he shook it that his hand was soft and pink and hers was rough, callused, and her grip was firmer than his. He tried too late to match hers, all the while seeming to measure her with his eyes.

  “And you are the very person I was looking for on this fine day.” He gestured toward the window at the snow piling up.

  There it is, she thought. Now let’s see how he thinks he has the right to traipse all over Farraday land. She sipped her coffee and kept her mouth shut for the time being. Soon the waitress brought her food, a still-sizzling steak, two eggs, and thick-sliced potatoes with onions laid on top. She caught his glance. “You hungry, uh . . . I didn’t catch your name.”

  “I am Tarleton, Lord Tarleton.”

  “Lord?” she said. “That a family name or a title?”

  He laughed, a sound not unpleasant to her, and she decided as she sliced into the steak that he was not only handsome, but maybe had kind eyes too.

  “It is indeed a title. I am English.”

  “Yep, I knew that much.” She nodded, caught his fleeting look of surprise. “I can read and even walk on my own too.”

  “Oh, pardon me, ma’am, eh, Emma, but I was not expecting so forward a personage in such a . . . pretty package. I am in a peculiar situation, Emma.” He leaned closer to her over the table, close enough that she leaned back.

  “I won’t bite, Emma, I assure you. But you see, I have a particularly large business plan in the offing and it seems that you, dear Emma, play a large role in that plan. And with each second that passes, I am increasingly convinced that your role should be even more . . . shall we say, substantial?”

  Emma chewed more steak, washed it down with coffee. “I have to say, Tarleton, that I have no idea at all what you are on about, but I will grant you that I’ve never heard anyone—even Arliss—talk in circles quite like you. It’s impressive.”

  “I appreciate your sarcasm, and it is well earned on my part. Perhaps, after your repast, I might convince you to give me a few minutes of your time at my office? I
am set up at the hotel, for the time being.” He glanced around him and continuing in his quiet tone said, “Without the unfortunate number of curious ears, I will be better able to explain what it is I have in mind.”

  “The hotel?” Emma stood, her chair squawking backward on the scrubbed pine floor. “What do you take me for, dandy?” She wasn’t sure which to do first, drive knuckles into his mustache or grab her coat. She settled for the coat and hat.

  He stood and smiled at her. “No, no, no, Miss Farraday, you mistake me. My associates will be there as well. I have a business proposition I would like your, shall we say, advice on.”

  She left money on the table, gave him one more hard look, then headed to the door, roughly brushing by him. She listened for the sound of only her boots on the sidewalk, but heard another set behind her. The door clunked shut and she knew without looking that all eyes in the place were on her and the fool dandy who’d insulted her in there. She was thankful that she had her hair down in a loose ponytail enough that it covered her red ears. How dared he?

  “Miss Farraday, please wait.”

  They were past the diner windows now and she turned on him, a gloved hand outstretched, a finger pointing. “No, sir, you just wait. I have about had enough of you. I was hoping to have a decent meal in quiet in there when you came in and ruined it for me. Not like I have the money to go chucking around. When I spend money on food you can be darned sure that I intend to eat it because I am hungry. It ain’t for show.”

  “Miss Farraday, please.” He tried to put a hand around her shoulder, guide her down the sidewalk beside him.

  She shook out of it. “Keep your hand to yourself, mister.”

  “I am heartily sorry. Perhaps you will allow me to make up for it by buying your meal. After all, I believe that after I have explained what I need to talk with you about, you will want to hear more of what I have to say.”

  “I don’t want anyone else’s money and I ain’t interested in what you have to say.” She stomped down the sidewalk and he stayed put. Good, she thought, at least I got rid of him. Cute he might be, but he was more annoying than anyone else she’d ever met.

  “Not even if I were to tell you that I own every acre of the Farraday spread?”

  She stopped, her stomach knotting and coiling like a tangle of snaky rope. She’d half hoped he was just a dreamer, someone trying not to get caught doing something on someone else’s land.

  “And that there is a way for you to have the entire thing without ever having to resort to expensive, and ultimately doomed-to-fail, litigation.”

  She turned on him, too filled with confusion and fear and rage all at once, to know what else to do. He regarded her with that mix of fascination and superiority that she had seen in the diner.

  She nodded and said through tight-set teeth, “I don’t know what your game is, but I guess I’d better listen to what you have to say.”

  “Excellent, Miss Farraday. That is all I ask, all I ask.” He rubbed his hands together vigorously. “This way please. To the hotel. I will see to it that sufficient refreshment is brought in so that we might continue to dine in peace and I won’t feel so guilty about spoiling your meal.” He swept another low bow and preceded her to the hotel.

  * * *

  She was sure that the third floor of the hotel probably hadn’t ever had a massive old desk up there in one room, but there it was, just the same.

  “Excellent, excellent. Now, Miss Farraday, do you like tea?”

  “I’ve had it, if that’s what you’re asking. But no, I’d prefer coffee. And I’ll need you to get this dog-and-pony show on the road because I have to get back to my ranch before light fails us.”

  “Oh, Miss Farraday, I cherish your cut-to-the-chase charm. But I assure you, once you have heard what I have to offer, you will be in no hurry to go anywhere.”

  Emma looked around the room, anywhere but at him.

  “I see you admiring the furnishings. Do you like it?” He spun slowly, his arms raised, himself admiring the furnishings as if seeing them for the first time. “I have to admit I’ve only been here a short time but already I have made ample improvements to this building.”

  “How’s that?” she said, not sure what to think of the turn this day had taken.

  “Why, Miss Farraday. Surely you know I bought the hotel. No? Well, it’s true. And soon I expect I’ll own much of, if not all of, the town of Klinkhorn. And then I’ll rename it Tarleton. Or perhaps Emmaville, or something equally quaint but fitting.”

  “You are doing it again.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Talking in circles.”

  He laughed, and despite the fact that she couldn’t get a straight answer from him, she liked the sound of his laughter. He seemed to be full of himself, but also handsome, rich, and not afraid to bandy words with her. But none of that mattered when she thought of what he’d said in the street. She cursed herself for letting her guard down, even momentarily. “Only thing I want from you is to know just how it is you think you own the Farraday spread.”

  “Oh, that’s simple. I acquired the town’s entire debt from Mr. Bentley Grissom. He held the lien on your place.”

  “I don’t believe you.” But her face was red as a struck thumb—she just knew it.

  “Oh, my dear, finance and money are not something I take lightly, and neither should anyone else. Fortunately, other people do, and that’s where people like me can come in and widen the rift, so to speak. I drive a wedge between people’s assumptions and their mistakes and exploit the rift enough that a profit flourishes. It happens every time.”

  As he spoke he moved to his desk, unlocked a drawer, and pulled out a thick wad of papers wrapped in a leather portfolio. He thumbed through them, narrowing his eyes, making small noises that sounded like “No, no, not that, not that.” And then, “Aha! Here it is, the very loan agreement signed by one Payton Farraday. I believe that was a relation of yours . . . father or uncle perhaps? Surely not a . . . husband?”

  She scowled at him and rushed the desk, tried to snatch the paper from him. He pulled it back, just out of her reach, but he held the sides and allowed her to read it. It all seemed real and legitimate, and it bore her uncle’s signature. “But he . . . I’ve since learned that he paid off that loan. It’s been paid, I’m telling you.”

  “Oh, excellent, then. Well, not for me, naturally, because as you see I am not in the business of buying useless paper. The world of high finance generates enough of that in a day’s time. But if it is, as you say, paid off, then all we need to make this legal is the very paper issued by the bank saying that it has been paid in full, countersigned by the lending institution, in this case Mr. Grissom’s fine establishment. Oh!” He held a hand to his mouth. “I mean that would be my establishment.” He winked. “I bought the bank too. Can’t help myself. I see something with promise and I have to have it.”

  She felt as if someone had punched her hard in the gut. Like the first time she’d fallen off a horse when she was just a kid. “What did you say?” She hated the smallness of her voice.

  “It’s true, my dear. But please, sit down, make yourself comfortable. It’s not as dire as all that. My only aim is to preserve this town as it is, along with its people, who are the very lifeblood of it. I also want to encourage growth and industry.”

  “And what industry are you in, Mr. Tarleton?”

  “Lord, I insist. And there are very few things I insist on.” His face had taken on a hard look, the first time she’d seen it since meeting him earlier. “Miss Farraday, since the day is advancing, and since the daylight will fail us sooner than later, I would like to take a page from your book, unaccustomed as I am in reading such a fine manuscript, and try to cut to the chase, as it were.”

  She stared at him, more confused than ever. “What?”

  He
knelt before her, proffered a hand, and she hesitated, but finally put her hand on his, as if to shake it. He turned it sideways, and then he rested his other hand on hers.

  “Miss Farraday, I was born into a world of wealth, power, prestige, and position. All in England. I became enamored with the West of America long ago, and its hold on me was such that when I came of age, I vowed to see it. I set sail for America years ago and have been here since.

  “And in that time I have, because I was also blessed with my father’s business savvy, been able to parlay my ample family fortunes into a personal fortune that would stagger the United States government. But I am no charity. I have been all over the West, seen many people, places, things, events, and experienced a good many hardships too.”

  He paused, smiled at her. “I have seen loveliness both natural and man-made that would make the mightiest maharajah weep, but never had I seen a lovelier town than Klinkhorn, nor one so positioned on the cusp of greatness owing to its location amid a mighty deposit of such vast potential. It is far greater than the idealized frontier town of my fantasy youth as I lay in my four-poster in the old castle pile in Buckinghamshire, reading my months-old Buntline dime novels.”

  He nearly rose then, pulling on her hand in his frenzy. “And the lumber potential! How vast it is! It’s as close to perfection as a man with such vision as I could have hoped for. And then when I saw you this morning, I became instantly aware that you, dear Emma Farraday, were the missing piece to this, the most intricate and fulfilling of life’s puzzles.”

  Emma tried to pull her hand away, suspecting what he was leading up to and not at all sure what to do or say. But he gripped her hand tight and his smile was so sincere, she could do nothing but stare into those deep ice blue eyes and listen to him. He did have a way with words.