Pemberley Ranch (23 page)

The party moved off at a slow pace, carefully working their way back to Pemberley in the dark. “Yes, and it doesn’t make any sense. Phillips and Collins are Cate’s creatures. They work for her, not Whitehead. Rosings Bank is calling in the loans on the new settlement homesteads, so the bank—and Cate by extension—has the bottomland. Why? What good does it do them? They lost money on the deal—they must have. So why work so hard to get it back?”

“Because they’re planning to use it for something else? Is there gold there?”

“Not that I know of. But there’s got to be a reason. And where does Whitehead fit into all this? He works for Cate, but all this feels like his idea. Why? What does he get out of this? How does it help him if Cate gets the bottomland back? There’s something missing, and until we know what it is, Cate and Whitehead are going to be a step ahead of us.”

“Why not ask her?”

Darcy snorted. “You think she’d tell me?”

Fitz paused, not wanting to ask the next question. “You think your cousin had something to do with the lynchings?”

Darcy was silent for a minute. “God, I hope not.”

The lights were burning late in George Whitehead’s office as an impromptu celebration took place. Joining Whitehead were Collins, Phillips, Denny, and Pyke.

“Congratulations, Denny,” Phillips raised his glass. “Come by the office tomorrow for your swearing in. That was a pretty good idea of mine, wasn’t it?”

Denny laughed. “Never thought I’d be wearin’ a badge. Lookin’ forward to it.”

Whitehead sipped his drink thoughtfully. “Don’t let it go to your head, my friend. Remember what I told you—we can’t afford any more incidents.”

“Look, I took care of them Washingtons, didn’t I?” Denny sneered. Phillips looked away, and Whitehead narrowed his eyes.

“Yes, you did. You also failed to corral that hotheaded Thorpe. He almost caused a confrontation with Darcy, and we’re not ready for that.” Whitehead held up his hand as Denny tried to respond. “Look, everything is still going according to plan. The bank has the properties back. In a few months, this will all be over.” Whitehead rose from his chair. “We’re right where we need to be. We’re
this
far from total success,” he held two fingers about an inch apart, “but we must do
nothing
to put this deal off. No more violence. We’ll handle Darcy later, once we’re in complete control. Be patient, Denny, and get hold of your men.”

Denny finished his drink and nodded. “All right. I’ll go join the boys at Sally’s. Make sure they don’t cause another
incident
.” He put on his hat and left the office.

“I’ll be leaving, too,” said Phillips. “I have a breakfast meeting with Cate. Will you be joining us?”

“Not tomorrow. I’ll see her later. ’Night, Alton.” The three watched the judge leave the building.

“Think he suspects anything?” asked Collins.

Whitehead smiled. “No. You heard what that fool said. He
took my suggestion for deputizing Denny and made it his own. Everything is proceeding as we planned. All of the land in the new settlement is back under our control. Everything is in place. Gentlemen, we’ve won.”

“Not everything,” Collins pointed out. “There’s still one last piece.”

“True, but that’ll be no trouble. All I have to do is close my hand, and it’ll fall to us.”

Pyke was nervous. “What about Darcy? He just about called you out.”

Whitehead chuckled. “Don’t worry about Mr. Darcy, strutting around with his land and money. That half-breed doesn’t even recognize when he’s been outmaneuvered. He’s powerless to stop us. If he causes any trouble, I can call for the weight of the government in Austin to fall upon him. Pemberley will just be ours sooner than anticipated.”

Whitehead walked over to the window. “No, gentlemen, as long as we’re patient, we’ve won. We now control the destiny of Long Branch County.”

⁶
During the Civil War, partisans from Kansas and Missouri were engaged in violent guerrilla warfare between the “Jayhawkers” or “Redlegs” from Kansas and “bushwhackers” or “partisan rangers” from Missouri. The roots of the fighting came from the Border War (“Bleeding Kansas”) between pro-slavery “Border Ruffians” and “Free-State” abolitionists that preceded the Civil War.

Both sides participated in atrocities. On the Jayhawk side, U.S. Senator James H. Lane sacked Osceola, Missouri, killing nine men, while Charles “Doc” Jennison was distinguished by his blatant plunder for personal gain. On the Missouri side, William Clarke Quantrill carried out the raid on Lawrence, Kansas, while William T. “Bloody Bill” Anderson and his men usually shot their prisoners and often mutilated and scalped the dead.

At first rejected by both the U.S. and Confederate governments, as the war dragged on, both sides made the guerrillas somewhat “respectable” by offering commissions in the volunteer forces. However, while Jayhawkers occasionally coordinated their activities with regular Union forces, bushwhackers almost always operated outside of the Confederate chain of command.

After the war, some bushwhackers became famous outlaws, such as Jesse and Frank James and the Younger brothers.

Important note: The term “bushwhacker” is also used for guerrillas—both Union and Confederate—in other theaters of the war.

September

T
HINGS CHANGED IN THE
weeks following the lynchings, as a cloud of fear and suspicion descended upon the town of Rosings. Unnecessary gatherings were curtailed, and events like the Ladies’ Musical Society meetings fell apart. Rather than the heat of battle, a cold mistrust pervaded the place as the people divided themselves into two camps: those who believed the tale of the roving band of Klansmen, and those who did not. The official explanation of the crime was championed by George Whitehead and Judge Phillips. Those who harbored doubts looked to William Darcy for leadership. Sheriff Lucas was caught in the middle.

Mr. Bennet kept his opinions to himself, refusing to discuss the doings in town with his family except to strictly enforce new rules around the farm. None of the women, including Mrs. Bennet, could go anywhere out of the house alone; they had to be accompanied by at least one other. Trips to town for any reason except supplies and church were forbidden. And he and Hill worked the barn and fields armed.

It was frustrating to Beth because the father she adored, a
man who had always been open with her, was now silent and unbending. Nothing she did could convince him to talk about what was worrying him, but she knew he was worried; it was plain to see in his eyes. He worked from sunup to sundown, taking his meals in the fields and retiring to his study after supper. Beth could see that her mother, too, was at a loss to ease her father’s cares. So the family continued on as they had always done: they did their chores—only now they were done in silence. Only Lily seemed insensible to the strained atmosphere.

Try as he might, Bennet could not make his farm completely self-sufficient. Supplies were still needed from town. Most of the time he himself would take the wagon in, but one day the harvest was in full swing and none of the male hands could be excused. As the supplies were desperately needed, it was reluctantly agreed that Beth would journey to town that day with Lily keeping her company, the family shotgun in a box beneath the seat.

Instructed to go directly to Zimmerman’s and back, the girls passed the Bingley place without stopping. Lily kept up an endless stream of inane conversation to which Beth paid little mind. She was struck, instead, at how empty the streets of Rosings were. Usually at that time of day, people would be everywhere—working, shopping, or just visiting. Now the place resembled a ghost town.

The wagon team secured, Beth and Lily entered the general store. The place was empty; the small bell on the door alerted Mr. and Mrs. Zimmerman that customers had arrived. Obviously happy to have patrons, Zimmerman took the list of supplies Beth handed him and left to fill the order, leaving his wife to keep the girls company.

“Oh, we’re so happy to see you!” Mrs. Zimmerman said after
exchanging the usual pleasantries. “Everything in town has been very… quiet. No one comes around anymore. We can see the smithy across the street, and it’s the same there. Business is bad.” She shook her head. “With that last family leaving the new settlement after that Washington family got killed, we see nobody. Everyone is so scared.”

She lowered her voice. “Some people say that the reason that black man was killed was that he took advantage of a white woman back east. That’s why those Klansmen came here.”

Beth blanched and turned, assuring herself that Lily was still looking at fabric samples on the other side of the store and was out of earshot. Beth did not want her sister to hear of such a story, for Lily was a bigger gossip even than their mother. She returned to the storekeeper’s wife.

“Mrs. Zimmerman, I never heard any such thing. Who said that about Mr. Washington?”

“Umm, I overheard one of Mr. Denny’s men—Thorpe, I think it was—say that,” the woman admitted.

Beth grew angry as she recalled the confrontation at the cemetery. Thorpe was the leader of the men who tried to stop the funeral. “I wouldn’t put too much stock in what Mr. Thorpe has to say. The Washingtons were members of our church, remember, and no one had a bad word to say about them.”

“True.” The woman was abashed. “They always paid cash— never asked for credit. And they were always respectful to me. Maybe Washington was confused with someone else? Yes, that must be what happened. Slaves all look the same to me and, I guess, to most folks. Oh, it’s awful, just awful! Those poor people. I can’t stop thinking about that poor little boy.”

Beth was both touched and frustrated with Mrs. Zimmerman.
It seemed the woman was casting about for any explanation of the tragedy that would prove it was done by outsiders. The alternative was apparently too frightening for her to contemplate.

The alternative had occupied Beth’s mind since the funeral. The actions of the B&R hands like Denny, Thorpe, and Wilkerson—all members of Denny’s gang—seemed to point to a very frightening conclusion. Denny and his people seemed capable of perpetrating the outrage; they had been members of Quantrill’s infamous Raiders after all. The last few weeks had challenged Beth’s deeply held beliefs about the war, but her opinion of bushwhackers had been justified by unimpeachable sources: Confederate veterans like William and Fitz were disgusted by bushwhackers and disavowed their actions. She felt safe to mistrust Denny.

This led her thoughts to George Whitehead. Beth could not shake the nagging feeling that it wasn’t a matter of
whether
George was involved in the killings of the Washingtons, but
how much
. Casting her eyes on Mrs. Zimmerman, she assumed the same thoughts had occurred to her.

Just then, the front door bell rang, the woman before her blanched, and Beth’s conjectures were proven correct.

“George!” cried Lily.

Beth turned to see George Whitehead close the door. With unclouded eyes, Beth could now see things in him that she had missed before. George was undeniably a good-looking man, but there was a hardness in his eyes that his smile could never completely hide. His confident walk was more like an arrogant swagger. He had nothing good to say about anyone who was not of use to him, and he demanded deference from others through fear.

Will Darcy didn’t do that, Beth realized. William earned the admiration of others by his deeds.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” Whitehead said, tipping his hat. “Doing some shopping, I see?”

Lily answered him. “Yes, Father sent us to pick up some supplies. It’s been so boring lately! Father won’t let us go anywhere. Maybe you could talk to him?”

“Lily,” Beth calmly admonished her. “I’m sure George is far too busy for such a silly request. With things being as they are in town,” she turned to Whitehead as she spoke, “Father is only being properly cautious in seeing we’re
fully
protected.”

“Very wise of him,” Whitehead drawled.

Beth continued. “It’s uncomfortable to work a field with a gun belt on, but such are the days we’re living in now.” For some reason, Beth felt she had to give Whitehead the gentle warning. The slight narrowing of his eyes showed that the message was received.

Lily then called Whitehead’s attention to a piece of lace she had been admiring. This gave Beth the opportunity to watch Mrs. Zimmerman again. She quickly learned that her initial estimation of the woman was wrong. By the mixture of fear and suspicion in her eye, it was apparent that Mrs. Zimmerman was not ignorant of the possibility that the Washingtons were attacked by one of their own. The shopkeeper’s wife was terrified. When Mr. Zimmerman joined them a moment later, his pale, nervous expression showed that he was in full agreement with his spouse’s fears.

“Good… good afternoon, Mr. Whitehead,” Zimmerman was able to manage. “Umm… what can I do for you?”

“Nothing, Zimmerman, just stopped on by to see how things were.” Whitehead seemed amused by the shakiness
in the proprietor’s voice. Beth noticed his enjoyment of the Zimmermans’ fear with a sinking feeling. Now, with complete certainty, she knew George Whitehead was an evil man. She wanted nothing more than to be out of his presence.

“Do you have our order, sir?” Beth asked Zimmerman. Beth settled the bill and called Lily over to help. Despite Beth’s protests, Whitehead insisted on carrying the packages to their wagon. Back up on the seat, the two Bennet girls took their leave of Whitehead.

“Won’t you come over for dinner soon, George?” Lily begged.

“Well, I’ve been pretty busy lately,” George begged off, “but who knows? I might find the time to come by the place when you least expect me.” He grinned in that lopsided way of his, his eyes still cold, and Beth felt a shot of fear course through her. Whitehead tipped his hat and reentered the store.

As Beth took a moment to settle her emotions, Lily took the opportunity to gaze about the town. “Beth, look!” she hissed.

At Younge’s Saloon, three young women, dressed in the usual style of dancehall girls, were on the balcony waving at a couple of cowboys riding away. Their raucous laughter could easily be heard.

“What pretty dresses!” Lily cried. “Wouldn’t you love to have one of those?”

“Lily! Be quiet!” Beth turned the team away from the barroom and urged them along the road home. “Don’t be a simpleton! You know what those sinful girls do for a living. They’re fallen women!”

“I know that! I know they’re whores,” Lily lightly responded.

“Lily—your language!”

“Sorry. I know those… women are going to the nether
region. I do listen in church, you know.” At Beth’s questioning look, she added, “Well, most of the time. I only like the dresses. I’d love to own pretty dresses, one for each day, and do nothing but sit around telling other people what to do. Like Miss Gaby or Miss Anne.” Lily waved her hands. “‘Smith, fetch me some tea!’”

Beth laughed. “Yes, I can just see you. You were made to be a lady of leisure.”

Lily tossed her head. “Don’t laugh! I’m sure I am. It would be just the thing. Oh, what a life! Better than what we have now.”

“Father’s worked very hard to provide for us, you ungrateful creature!”

“Oh, I know, but he’s not the only one who works! Chores, chores, chores. I hate it! We work all day until we’re too tired to do anything else at night but go to bed. Day after day. Feed the chickens. Milk the cow. Churn the butter. I hate churning butter!”

“And you’re so uncommonly good at it.” Beth couldn’t resist. Lily did have the most adorable pout on her face, after all.

“You always say that! Pooh!”

Beth reached over and took Lily’s hand. “Maybe I do. Still, you have to admit our life isn’t so bad. We have food on the table and a warm bed to sleep in every night.” Beth lowered her voice. “Many can’t say the same.”

Lily nodded. “You’re right.” She thought for a moment. “Do you want to ride once we get home? We can practice jumping rails with Buster and Turner again. That’s so much fun!”

“I’d love to, but you know what Father said. It’s too dangerous.”

“Maybe just around the farm? If you ask Father, I’m sure he’d let us.”

Beth thought. “All right, I’ll ask.” She held up a hand at Lily’s squeal of joy, trying not to smile at her sister’s youthful
exuberance. “I’ll ask, but it’s up to Father. We’ll be good and accept his decision, all right, sister dear?”

Lily sighed in agreement and then grinned, as she changed the subject back to their original conversation. “Tell me the truth. Wouldn’t you like to live like Miss Darcy? You’ve seen her house. I’ll bet it’s grand, and she has servants everywhere.” Lily bounced on the wagon seat. “Wouldn’t you just love to live in a place like Pemberley?”

Beth nearly choked as she blushed.
Lily, you have no idea!

Lily continued. “If I ever get the chance to live like that, I would—oh!”

Beth was surprised at Lily’s outburst, and turned to see what had caused it. Standing outside the Rosings Bank was Kid Denny and a member of his gang—new, shiny badges of authority from Judge Phillips hanging on their shirts. That was disconcerting enough; what made it worse was that Denny was staring at them, an unreadable expression on his face.

No—he wasn’t staring at them. His eyes were locked on Lily. Beth shivered and moved slightly closer to her youngest sister, trying to shield her from his gaze.

“Beth?” asked Lily in a low, frightened voice, one that had lost all good humor. “Can we go home now?”

Beth turned to see that Lily was just as affected by Denny as she. Beth nodded. “Don’t be afraid. We’ll be home soon.”

“I’m not afraid,” Lily protested. “I… I just want to go riding with you, that’s all.”

Beth was not fooled by Lily’s statement, but chose not to challenge her. “Of course, love. Hang on.” Determined to protect her beloved sister, Beth’s lips drew into a firm line as she prodded the horses to move faster.