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Authors: Dana Black

Legacy (26 page)

BOOK: Legacy
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He looked up. 'That was Jackson. He came to report that they've all moved into the staff quarters out back. And he brought this in - came on the telegraph line in the office.'

 

He handed me the unfolded paper and went back to his list. I read that Bill Malory was pleased to accept Father's offer to come up here and manage the hotel. Malory had chosen a small skeleton staff, and they would be arriving here sometime about noon tomorrow.

 

'Well, that's a relief,' I said, putting the paper back on the table.

 

He grinned, but he did not look up from his writing. 'Afraid you'd have to do the job all by yourself, were you?'

 

Again I felt that comfortable warmth that I had been somehow accepted. Even though we both knew that my lack of experience made it necessary to have someone else in the position, it was nice at least to flirt with the idea that I could manage the hotel on my own. But I laughed it off. 'Don't be silly, Father. What are you doing there?'

 

'Oh, making lists.' He was still preoccupied.

 

'I can see that. What for? The hotel?'

 

He finished a line and looked up. 'Here,' he said, and he tore off two of the sheets he had already written on and folded over. 'Take a look. They're for the staff - what each one of them should do tomorrow morning until Malory comes. Then we've got to get a list ready for Malory. Look 'em over and see what else we ought to put in.'

 

We discussed the list and our plans for the hotel for nearly an hour, and when we had finished we had removed some items and added others, arriving at a small, orderly stack of notes that would see us through the next few days, and another longer list that planned for the rest of the season and the next winter. It astonished me how much we could accomplish by simply sitting down and giving the matter our undivided attention. I found that if I concentrated, I could recall details of the hotel I had seen only once, and that I could also plan for future needs that I had never thought of until that very moment. I was pleased with my newly discovered talent, and so was Father.

 

After he had arranged the notes in a neat stack on the table, he said, 'Well, I think we've got ourselves a hotel by now.' He took a cigar from his coat pocket and lit it. 'And you did all right for yourself, too, even if it was your first time at this sort of thing. Lucky for me I brought you along.'

 

We chatted a moment or two longer and then I felt the fatigue from the day's activity, along with the sorrow I had been trying to keep so well hidden. Thank goodness I had done something worthwhile today so that I had a good feeling to hang on to! We said good night, and I went into my bedroom to get ready to go to sleep.

 

And then began the long nightmare of events that I have tried for so long to forget. I was sitting in front of the mirror before I undressed, taking the pins out of my hair and brushing it, still thinking of the satisfying work we had accomplished. Perhaps this really was the way I could get through the pain of life without Justin, I thought, if I could only manage to get something productive done every day ... I heard someone outside in the hall knocking on the door to the sitting room. It must be one of the staff, I thought, continuing to brush my hair. In a moment I heard Father unbolting the door.

 

'You!' he said, and something in his voice made me catch my breath momentarily in my throat.

 

'Well, now, Mr. Rawlings, ain't you gonna ask me to come in?' The voice was mean, ugly, and insolent.

 

'Put that thing away, Campbell,' said Father. My eyes went tightly shut involuntarily, and every nerve began to vibrate with fear. Campbell! The leering face at the window flooded back into my memory and I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out.

 

'Oh, now, Mister Rawlings, don't you like lookin' at a gun?

 

'I said to put it away, Campbell.' Father sounded strong, sure of himself, and I began to take courage from his voice.

 

'Oh, but we need to have a talk, you and me. A few things have happened since that last chat we had, out there in the backyard. You remember?'

 

'If you want to talk, Campbell, you're going to put that gun away first.'

 

I waited, stunned and helpless. Finally I heard Campbell's voice again as he grudgingly gave in. 'You are a stubborn son-of-a-bitch, aren't you?'

 

Their voices came from closer to my door now, so I knew they had come into the sitting room.

 

'Seems like you done forgot about Red Campbell, Mister Rawlings, so I just come up on the train to pay you a visit. Just thought we oughtta have a . . .'

 

'Spit it out, Campbell. What do you want?'

 

The voice was greasy, insinuating. 'Well, now, I hear there's sheriffs in three counties looking for Red Campbell, on account o' some night watchman got hisself killed.'

 

He waited, but Father said nothing. Campbell's voice turned a shade more respectful. 'Come on, now, Mr. Rawlings. If I hadn't o' got into that deal with Shaw, that half-assed plough-boy, I'd o' never even seen that night watchman. I figure ya owe me somethin'.'

 

'You're crazy. I never told you to go near that watchman.'

 

'Told me to pay Shaw off, didn't ya? Gave me two hundred, didn't ya? Where else was I supposed to pay him off- Graybar's mill? I had to get into your place to keep out of sight, and then this watchman . . .'

 

'I don't believe a damned word of this. You're lying, Red.'

 

Again came the insolence. I could imagine Campbell touching the trigger of his gun as he spoke. 'Aw, now, we don't wanna get mistrustin' all of a sudden, do we? Tell you what. You call off those sheriffs - buy 'em off or whatever you do - and then Red Campbell won't be talkin' about that two hundred dollars you gave 'im. Get me?'

 

'That's what you want, is it, Campbell? Well, let me tell you something. If you want help, you ought to go back to Brad Graybar. Tell him you want some more kerosene to burn down my mill, and see how far that gets you.'

 

'There you go, mistrustin' again! I told ya not to go mistrustin'.'

 

'Goddamn it, Campbell! Put that thing away!'

 

'You're gonna report me, ain't you? You're gonna tell 'em I was here. I can see it. That's just what you're thinkin', ain't it?'

 

I could hear his voice rising as he worked himself into a rage. Horrified at the danger Father and I were in, I made my way from my dresser to the door and began to ease it open. I had to do something! I could hear an edge creeping into Father's voice.

 

'You think you'd help yourself by killing me? You dumb bastard. How many men are chasing you now because of a night watchman? How many more would there be if it was Sam Rawlings, too? It'd make your head spin. You probably couldn't even count that high.'

 

I had the door open wide enough now to see Campbell, only a few steps away. He was as tall as Father, but not as heavyset, wearing torn, tight-fitting blue jeans and a dirty brown shirt. Behind that curly red hair, unkempt, and that scraggly, untrimmed beard were the eyes, bloodshot and staring. 'You're gonna pay me somethin', Rawlings. If you wanna live, you're gonna have to pay me somethin'.'

 

'Campbell, I thought you had brains when I made you a foreman. What kind of money do you think you're gonna get from me with a gun? There's no money at all here in the hotel. You think I'm gonna go back to Grampian and send you a cheque in the mail?'

 

Father's sarcasm set my nerves on edge. How far could he push this bearded murderer before making him lose all control? I could see the fury, the desperation, in Campbell's expression as he tried to think. As I watched, I calculated the distance between the gun he held and the spot where I stood. Could I rush towards him, catch him off balance, and force his aim away from Father? If only I could do that, I was sure Father could overpower him.

 

But then, out of the corner of his eye, Campbell saw me. As quick as lightning, he was at the door and had torn it open, and before I could move he had nearly broken my wrist, turning it viciously, twisting my arm behind my back as he pushed me out into the sitting room. The burning, stabbing pain in my wrist and shoulder made me gasp. I staggered and nearly fell, but that excruciating hold on my wrist and arm jerked me upright again so that I cried out, choking back hot tears.

 

I could feel Campbell's fetid breath against my neck as he spoke, sneering the words in a tone that made me shudder. 'Well, now, Rawlings! Didn't know the slut was still around! Looks like you're havin' a bit o' fun on this trip!'

 

Father's voice was sheer, cold anger, though I could see the anguish and the heartache in his eyes. 'She's my daughter, you bastard. You leave her out of this. Let her go right now.'

 

The pain shot through me as Campbell jerked me upright again and forced me closer to him. His smell was nauseating. I felt the hard point of his pistol tap against my temple.

 

'Daughter, eh? Well, now, suppose I just blow her head off right now. How'd ya like that, Sam Rawlings? Hey?' The pistol cracked against my skull again, harder this time, making little white flashes of light before my eyes.

 

Father's jaw was clenched, his words tight and strained. 'All right, what is it you want? Name it.'

 

Through a red haze of pain I heard that hateful, sneering voice. 'Changed your tune, hey, Rawlings? Well, here's what you're gonna do. I'm gonna take this slut of yours in the woods somewhere good and safe, where you ain't gonna find her. And you're gonna go back and get two hunnert thousand dollars in cash for ole Red. You're gonna put it out on that beach out there, right out in the open, where I can see it real good. If it's there when I come back mornin' after next at eight, then I'll pick it up and go back and turn this one' - he twisted the point of his pistol behind my ear as he said that - 'loose. Then she'll be able to get herself some food and some water and get back to you. If I don't see the money, or if I see a single, solitary person around this whole hotel, I'm gonna just leave her where she is, with the gag in her mouth and the ropes on her hands and feet. Before you find her she'll have long died o' thirst.'

 

Father kept his jaw clamped shut, but he nodded. Behind me, Campbell was caressing my neck with the barrel of the pistol. 'Won't look so pretty, then, would ya, hey? Ever see somebody that died o' thirst? Tongue gets all black, yes, ma'am, and the face ..."

 

'Get on with it, Campbell,' Father said. 'They'll get you someday, and every word you say, everything you do to her between now and the time you release her, will make the rest of your life less of a hell or more of one. You just mark my words.'

 

'Shuddup.' He jabbed the pistol into my neck again. 'Now, we're just gonna mosey on outta here. What you're gonna do now, Rawlings, is get down on your hands and knees and crawl under the sofa over there. I don't wanna see your face when we walk out, Rawlings. I just wanna see that fat ass of yours stickin' out from under the sofa. Now, move, or I'll shoot both of you right here and now!'

 

Father stood stock-still, his grey eyes ablaze. 'I'll see you in hell first, Campbell.' The words were deadly calm.

 

'On your knees, I said! Crawl!' He brandished the pistol again, striking me a glancing blow across the forehead with the barrel. My head reeled. Through a dizzy haze I saw Father leap towards me, towards the gun, and then I was pushed violently away, staggering and falling down against one of the smaller chairs partway across the room.

 

Behind me I heard the sounds of the struggle as Father and Campbell crashed against the tables and chairs, knocking over furniture. Their breath came in harsh gasps. I tried to get up to help, but my arm, when I tried to raise myself to a sitting position, collapsed under me and I had to force myself to keep from blacking out from the pain.

 

Somehow I rolled over where I could see the battle as the two swayed in deathly combat, each man's grip locked on the pistol Campbell held now with both hands. If only I could get to them! There was a vase on the table that would . . .

 

But then both men had toppled over with a crash, and I heard the muffled roar of the pistol. There was an agonizing groan, a horrible thumping sound. And then silence prevailed, except for the rasping of Red Campbell's breath as he got slowly to his feet and came towards me.

BOOK: Legacy
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