Stronger Than the Rest (4 page)

“Yes, young man, fortunate. You could be dead.” The doctor turned a stern yet sympathetic gaze at his patient. He wouldn’t say it, but the doctor had a strong feeling that Drew would beat this and walk again. Few patients worked as hard at recovery as this young attorney. “As it stands now, there is still hope that feeling will return and you’ll be able to walk again, if not like before then at least with a cane. It’s only been a few weeks, well within the timeframe of temporary paralysis.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right, but I expected to be up and about by now, not being taken care of by a manservant and numerous others.” Drew shook his head in disgust. “Is there anything else that Mr. Jericho or I can do to move my healing along?”

“You’re doing all that can be done at this point. I’ve read everything I can get my hands on and have corresponded with specialists back East. Be patient, continue with the treatments, and let nature take its course.”

Doc Garland was a good man, used by most of the influential residents of Denver, and considered the best in this region. Drew knew he was getting the finest treatment available, but that still didn’t relieve his frustration.

“I’ll do my best, Doc. I’m just damn tired of sitting in this chair.” Drew’s face reddened a little when he glanced at the nurse. “Sorry, ma’am,” he added.

“No need to apologize, Mr. MacLaren. You’re doing much better than you know and handling it well. You’re much stronger than you realize. I’ve seen patients throw fits of frustration and others give up completely. They don’t even try. You aren’t either of those types. If anyone can walk again, you can.” Her smile was broad and her tone conveyed that she believed what she said.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll try to remember that.”

******

 “The message says another of the Bierdan ranch hands quit. She can’t have more than seven or eight men left.” Drew set down the piece of paper with the latest update from Frank Alts, their contact in Cold Creek.

Alts was a former Colorado Ranger. He’d helped clear out the rustlers at the Taylor Ranch, and had been there the day Drew was shot. Alts had already made up his mind to quit the Rangers, find another job in Denver, and raise his son, Aaron. The death of the previous sheriff had left an opening for an experienced lawman, and the people of Cold Creek had wasted no time offering the position to Frank, along with a house and monthly account at the general store.

“And the Langdon ranch?” Louis asked.

“Frank says he’s struggling. Langdon was a farmer back East and is trying to make a go of it as a cattle rancher. Frank says he works hard but just doesn’t have the skills for it. It’s just a matter of time.”

“Do we know if Grant Taylor is interested in either of these ranches?”

“I haven’t heard of it, but that doesn’t mean he’s not.”

Louis contemplated going against Grant for the same land. It didn’t sit well with him, but he was a businessman, and he wanted the Langdon and Bierdan ranches. “It’s time to make an offer to both Eloise Bierdan and Langdon. You’ll have to be the one to go.” A knock on the door interrupted Louis.

“Excuse me, Mr. Dunnigan, Mr. MacLaren, but Mr. Jericho is outside. He says he must speak with you right away, Mr. MacLaren.” Terrance stood at attention, waiting for a response.

“Please, ask him to come in, Terrance.”

Drew never ceased to be amazed at Jericho’s size. He filled the doorway, ducking so he wouldn’t hit his head, and stood with his hands at his sides. “Mrs. Alicia MacLaren and Miss Tessa Taylor are at your house, Mr. MacLaren.”

“They’re here, in Denver?” Drew’s brows furrowed. His surprise was apparent but he gave no indication as to whether the news pleased or angered him.

“Yes, sir. Both are resting at the house.”

“Well, Drew, it appears our conversation must be put off until a more appropriate time. Go ahead and see to your guests.” Louis Dunnigan excused himself as Jericho moved to assist Drew with his papers.

“Terrance,” Drew called for his assistant while Jericho wheeled him to the elevator.

“Yes, Mr. MacLaren?”

“Make reservations for three at The Regency. At six. My guests are used to eating supper early.”

Chapter Four

Cold Creek, Colorado

“That’s enough. Anymore and you’ll kill him,” Luther’s voice pierced the quiet night as he watched his partner, Vern, haul the bloodied man up. The others in their group stood around, unmoved by the brutality but making no effort to join in the beating.

They’d been sent to Cold Creek to encourage the men of both the Bierdan and Langdon ranches that they’d be better off working somewhere else. If words weren’t enough, they’d been instructed to use whatever level of persuasion necessary to achieve the results Walsh expected, and the man’s expectations were high. “Get him some water.”

Clint Thayer bent over, coughing up blood as he tried to take a breath. He’d attempted to fight but couldn’t handle both Luther and his partner. He was twenty-five and hoped he’d make it to twenty-six.

“So, what’s your answer, Thayer?” Luther slapped Clint on the back, hard enough to pitch him forward before Luther caught his arm.

Clint straightened and stared, first at Luther, then at Vern. Luther was a brute, but Vern stood about five-foot-seven. Clint would like one more chance at both, but without the rest of their gang hanging around.

“No,” Clint spat out. “I won’t ride out on her.” His right hand moved to the butt of his gun, but a blow to his side had him staggering. Another to his face forced him to the ground.

“Not what we want to hear, boy.” Vern’s hardened face focused on Clint’s. He wondered how much more time they should put into this before putting a bullet in the man. The sound of approaching horses stopped his thoughts as he and Luther glanced behind them to see riders a couple hundred yards away.

“We’re not done with you, Thayer. I expect the right answer from you or you’ll find yourself in the same place as Dawson,” Luther sneered, then mounted his horse and joined the rest of his men in escape.

Clint continued to lay on the ground, rubbing his beaten face as Luther’s words rolled in his head and wondered if Dawson, another of Mrs. Bierdan’s hands, had left voluntarily or was forced.

“Clint? That you?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Jay.” Clint pushed his battered body up as Jay walked over to help him stand.

“What the hell happened?” Stan, another of the Bierdan wranglers asked as he bent to grab Clint’s dust covered hat.

“A couple of men took exception to my decision to stay at the Bierdan ranch.” Clint’s gaze focused on the trail taken by the retreating men. He wondered who they worked for and why it was so important to run Eloise off. “Mentioned something about Dawson, but can’t say I know what they meant.”

“Seen them before?” Jay asked.

“Never.” Clint mounted his horse. “But, from their threats, I’m guessing they’ll show up again.”

******

Hard pounding at the front door interrupted Eleanor Taylor’s reading. She returned the book to the table and walked to the door, grimacing at the constant hammering. She opened the door to an angry young woman, covered in dust, and breathing hard. “Hello, Eloise. Are you all right?”

“No, Eleanor, I’m not all right. I want to see your husband. Someone ordered the beating of one of my men and I want to know if he had any part in it.”

Eleanor’s eyes moved over Eloise Bierdan’s face and saw that the woman believed what she said. “Eloise, now you know Grant would never order a beating. Never. But, let’s find him so you can explain what happened.” Eleanor reached for her bonnet and led Eloise toward the back corral where the men worked one of the two-year olds, a beautiful colt—black with a white blaze—much like the horse Will MacLaren had ridden when he came to help them with the rustlers.

Grant turned at their approach and started to move toward them. “Eloise, what a nice surprise,” he started but wasn’t allowed to finish.

“Did you order your men to beat up one of mine?” Eloise was only inches from Grant’s face, hands on her hips as she glared at him.

Grant glanced at his wife, but she shook her head and looked back on Eloise.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Who was beaten?”

“Clint Thayer. By two men. One named Vern and another named Luther.”

“Never heard of them. Clint tell you what happened?”

“No, two other ranch hands did. Clint wouldn’t say anything. Wouldn’t answer any questions.” Eloise shook her head, frustrated at Clint’s lack of trust in her ability to handle unwelcome news. “Jay Bellows and Stan Clark found him last night, near Rock Creek. He spoke with them but wouldn’t talk with me or my foreman.”

“He said their names are Vern and Luther?”

“That’s what he told Jay and Stan.”

“I can tell you for a fact that I never ordered any of my men, at any time, to rough up your men.” Grant leveled his gaze at Eloise.

The young woman paced a few feet away, took a deep breath, then walked back over to Grant and Eleanor. “Who would do this? Why Clint?”

“You having troubles with anyone? Threats?”

“Not anything that would warrant this.” Eloise thought of the last weeks, the offers to buy her land, the insistent tone of the bank manager encouraging her to consider the offers. “I’ve lost a few men, but it’s normal for ranch hands to move around, isn’t it?”

“How many have left?” Grant had heard rumors about several men taking off and he doubted it was just for a change of location.

“Four over the last few weeks.”

Grant considered that as his mind worked over the possibilities. Four was quite a number. His ranch, the Big G, would lose one, maybe two each year, but never as many as four.

“Sounds more like they’re trying to send you a message. But, like most cowards, they’re not talking directly to you but passing it through others by force.” He turned to his foreman, Jake. “I’m riding over to the Bierdan ranch. You look after things here.”

“Sure thing, Boss.” Jake had been at the Big G a long time and was more a part of the family than an employee.

“Let’s go, Eloise. I’m riding back with you. Maybe Clint will talk with me.”

It angered Eloise to think she needed another man, from another ranch, to get the straight story from one of her own men. No one seemed to think she had a brain in her head or any ability to run a ranch, which was a constant source of irritation to the young woman. But now was not the time to let pride push away an offer of help.

“Thanks, Grant. I’d appreciate you telling me and my foreman anything you learn from Clint.”

******

It was noon when Grant rode up with Eloise. The Bierdan wranglers were just finishing dinner and getting ready to ride out.

Jefferson Burnham, the foreman, walked over to shake Grant’s hand. He was a tall, rangy, Southern man. He’d fought for the South in the War Between the States, but moved west a few years afterwards to find peace, at least that’s what he’d told Eloise Bierdan when he’d hired on two months ago. Jeff was soft-spoken, had considerable experience, and the men respected him.

“Grant, what brings you out here?” Jeff asked after a quick glance at his boss, Eloise.

“Heard about Clint and asked Mrs. Bierdan if I could speak with him. Try to find out what happened.”

“He sure doesn’t want to speak with me about it. Don’t know why,” Jeff shook his head. He had a good relationship with the men, but Clint had closed him out of this discussion. “He’s in the barn. I’ll get him for you.”

“No need.” Grant walked toward the large barn. He spotted Clint at the back in one of the stalls, grooming a young mare. He stood a few feet away, waiting for Clint to acknowledge him, not wanting to spook the young horse.

Clint ran a hand from the withers, along the back, and down one thigh. He had a soothing hand that gentled the horse. “What can I do for you, Mr. Taylor?”

“Nice mare. Had her long?”

“Mrs. Bierdan bought her from Langdon a few weeks ago. Jeff spotted her and spoke with Mr. Langdon. The next we knew, we had ourselves a beautiful horse.” Clint walked out of the stall, securing the gate as he turned to Grant. “You here to chat or have something on your mind?”

“Last night. I’d like to know what happened, what you remember.”

Jeff had followed Grant into the barn, hoping to learn the truth of the bruises and cuts on his ranch hand.

Clint had thought it over while working with the mare. He needed to talk to Jeff about the threats. The foreman had a right to know. Might as well tell it once to both men.

“Not much to tell. Two men I’d spoken with in the saloon a week ago rode up to me last night with a group of other men. Asked if I’d thought about what they’d suggested. I told them I had and I’d be staying at the Bierdan ranch. Next I knew they’d pulled me to the ground. I got in a number of good punches, but the one was too big. He landed a blow to my jaw, then the other one took over. Didn’t stop until the big guy pulled him off me.”

“And the others?” Jeff asked.