Brodie's Gamble (2 page)

“You don’t need to get in the middle of this, lads. I can take care of Horst.” Brodie crossed his arms, wincing as pain from two broken ribs shot through him.

“Not by yourself. We’ve a plan and we’re going through with it.” Colin’s calm resolve made him the perfect leader of the cousins.

“I won’t have you acting the same as his gang of hooligans.”

“We plan no beating, Brodie. The four of us will wait for him after school, get him away from his lads, and question him.” Colin glanced at Quinn and Blain, who nodded in agreement.

“He won’t confess.”

“Aye, Brodie, he will. It’s his arrogance that will fail him. When it does, we dispense the punishment.” A smile crossed Colin’s face at what they’d planned.

“I don’t know, Colin. As much as I want justice, and my money back, I don’t want us to turn into savages like him and his lads. We came to America to rid ourselves of tyranny and punishment without being allowed to defend ourselves.”

“That was one reason, Brodie. Mainly, we came because we might have starved to death if we stayed. Do you remember the nights we fell asleep with wee amounts of food in our bellies?” Quinn asked.

“Aye, I remember.”

“And do you remember the raids when neighboring clans swooped in to burn our crops and kill our families?” Quinn’s gaze hardened, remembering the violence. “We canna let it happen here by brutes such as Horst. He needs to be taught a lesson, and we MacLarens are the ones to give it.”

“Are you with us, Brodie?” Colin stepped up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Brodie nodded, his face a mask. “Aye. I’m with you.”

“There he is.” Blaine and the others waited on the trail Horst used each day to go home. His family wasn’t farmers or ranchers. Instead, his father and uncles were harness makers, farriers, and tool makers. When he and his boys weren’t harassing or threatening others, Horst joined them to learn the trade. He had little respect for those who worked the land or weren’t of German descent…and he had no problem acting on his disdain.

Horst whistled as the trail crossed over a stream, then made a sharp turn at a brick building used for storing tools. He didn’t see the hand shoot out to wrap around his arm until he landed on the ground.

“What’s going…” His voice faded as he stared into the faces of the four MacLarens.

Without uttering a word, Quinn grabbed Horst’s arms, Blaine stuffed a rag in his mouth, then Colin and Brodie picked up his legs, carrying him into the building and locking the door. Setting him on the floor, they tied his hands together, then his legs, and hoisted him up to rest against a stack of wooden crates.

Colin crossed his arms, letting his gaze roam over Horst, then shook his head. “You aren’t too bright of a lad, are you, Horst?”

The rag stifled his scream as his eyes widened in what could’ve been fear or anger. Either was fine with Colin.

“You see now, Horst, when you attack one MacLaren, the rest of the family believes it’s our God-given right to discover why. Did Brodie attack you first? Did he steal something of yours? Perhaps the lad smiled at a girl you like.” Colin walked up to him, leaning into his face. “We are not animals, Horst. Before we decide if there is to be retribution, we need to know the reason you beat Brodie, then stole his money.”

Blaine stepped forward, removing the rag from Horst’s mouth.

“Now is your chance to say your piece. Me and the lads are willing to listen.” Quinn crossed his arms and leaned against a wall.

Horst’s eyes darted from one boy, then to another, his gaze resting on the door.

“Ah, now, laddie, that would be a mistake. You
will
be leaving here, but not until you’ve answered Colin’s questions.” Brodie’s smile was feral as he took in the sight of a trembling Horst. “You don’t seem so brave when you don’t have your lads about you. Lucky for you we aren’t like them.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.” Horst’s face twisted into a scowl before he spat on the floor.

“True, but then we’d be thinking you have no sense and I, for one, think you’re smarter than that.”

“I don’t know, Brodie. Seems the lad’s as dumb as a post.” Quinn crossed his arms, laughing.

Horst uttered a stream of curses, trying to lunge toward Quinn, tripping over his bound ankles and landing on the floor.

“See, Brodie. Dumb as a post.”

“Enough, Quinn,” Colin broke in. “Answer the questions, Horst, so we can get back to our chores.”

Horst glared up at them from the floor, his face the color of a ripe plum.

“We don’t like you MacLarens. You Scots always think you’re better than us, flirting with the girls and taking our jobs.” He nodded at Brodie. “You shouldn’t be the one working for the gunsmith. It should be one of my boys taking home the coin. We hate your kind.”

“So you decided beating Brodie and stealing his pay was a fair way to get back at us?” Colin’s gaze narrowed, his face turning to stone at the venom in Horst’s voice.

“And I don’t regret it. He deserved it for talking to Polly, taking her attention from me.”

Quinn shot a look at Brodie. “Polly is it now?”

“Nae. I spoke to her a couple times. It’s of no importance.” Brodie turned his attention back to Horst. “The pay you stole
is
of importance and I’ll have it back.”

Horst tilted his head and laughed. “Too late. The money’s gone, MacLaren.”

“Well then, since you admit to stealing and beating Brodie, there’ll be a need for retribution.” Colin paced in a circle, as if considering what would be appropriate. “Lads, what do you think?”

“Aye, he’s admitted it right out,” Blaine agreed, taking a stand next to Colin.

“I’m with Blaine.” Quinn stepped next to his two cousins.

“Brodie?” Colin asked.

He stared at Horst, pitying the boy who allowed hatred and jealousy to rule his life. “We can’t let him do this to others.”

Colin and Quinn jerked Horst up off the floor, leaned him against a wall, and stepped aside.

Colin rolled up his sleeves, locking a cold gaze at the prisoner. “Horst Ackermann, you’ve admitted to the crimes, been found guilty, and have shown no remorse.”

“Wait,” he screamed, horror twisting his face. “You can’t kill me.”

Quinn laughed. “Sure we can.”

“But we won’t,” Brodie smirked. “Right, Colin?”

“Not this day, laddies.” Colin glanced at Horst, whose body began to shake. “Remember, you brought this on yourself.”

Quinn doubled over, holding his stomach to contain his laughter. “I wish we could have stayed to watch. It’s sure they’ll be looking at Horst in a different way after today.”

The others joined him as they pictured the way they’d left Horst in the building. They’d stripped him down to nothing except his drawers, then leaned him against a post. Tying his hands together, they wrapped the rope around a nail above his head, securing it with a well-placed knot. Last, they tied his legs to the bottom of the post.

“You’re certain the message you sent went to Polly’s home?” Blaine asked Colin.

“I am.”

“An invitation from Horst for Polly and her friends to come see the surprise he’d created.” Blaine shook his head as he gulped in large amounts of air. His eyes watered from laughter. “Quinn’s right. I wish we could see their faces.”

“It’s good you warned the lad once more about what would happen if they bullied anyone else. I believe he may have gotten the message, Colin.”

Colin nodded, although his face remained passive. “We’ll see. It’s a stubborn boy he is.” Settling a hand on Brodie’s shoulder, he leaned toward him. “Are you satisfied?”

“Aye. It was a wise plan and I’m grateful for your help.”

“Ach. If it had been up to me, me and the lads would’ve taken him behind a barn and settled it the old way. You, with your sense of justice, encouraged us to do it the right way. Someday, lad, I believe you’d make a fine sheriff.”

Brodie burst out laughing at the ridiculous suggestion of becoming a lawman. “The day I start wearing a badge is the day you can put me in the ground because it is for certain I would’ve lost my mind. Come on, lads. It’s time we get home before the family sends out a search party.”

Chapter One

Conviction, California

October 1864

“Sheriff, you gotta come quick. Those Olsen boys are causing all kinds of trouble at the feed lot outside of town.”

Sheriff Brodie MacLaren sighed. He had a long night and rough morning. Now this. His best deputy had left town to follow the woman he loved to San Francisco, and another one had taken time off to help an uncle on his ranch for a few weeks. Brodie had fired another deputy for being drunk on the job, and suggested the final one leave due to his strong loyalty to Sheriff Yost, the man Brodie replaced. He needed men who were loyal to him and the town, not ones who brooded over the fact they believed they were a better choice for the job than Brodie.

All of this left him alone to watch over the riverfront community of over four thousand until he could find replacements. He’d been sheriff for a few weeks. So far, the ones who’d applied for the deputy openings didn’t match his requirements—proficient with a gun, previous work as a lawman, a desire to become a part of Conviction, and an unflappable sense of right and wrong. Brodie either had to loosen his standards or broaden his search. He’d chosen the latter.

“What are they up to, Jack?” Brodie sized up the young man who’d wandered into Conviction a year before. He swore he didn’t have a first name. Locals referred to him as Jack-of-all-trades Perkins, but most just called him Jack or Perkins. Regardless, he knew more about what went on around town than anyone else, including Brodie.

“No good, I can tell you that.”

Brodie stood, crossing his arms and pinning Jack with a cold stare.

“Hell, Sheriff. They’re doing what they usually do. Taunt someone until he’s angry and takes a swing at ‘em. Then someone else jumps in, and before you know it, it’s a doggone brawl.”

Shaking his head on a groan, Brodie strapped his gun belt on and grabbed his hat.

“Do you want me to come with you, Sheriff?” Brodie grinned at the eagerness in Jack’s voice. He had a habit of following Brodie around like a ranch dog. His zealous attitude sometimes got in the way, but proved to be a big help when Brodie needed someone to act as a messenger or keep watch on prisoners in the jail.

“Tell you what, lad. I’ve got Bob Belford sleeping it off in a cell. It’d be a big help if you’d wake him up and take him home to his wife.”

“Sure, Sheriff.” Jack beamed at what he considered an important chore, something Brodie would normally have a deputy handle—when he had one. “Maybe I could be your deputy. I mean, you know…until you find the right man. I could even wear a badge.”

Brodie put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Lad, the best way to help is to continue with what you already do for me. We keep it between us. A secret between the two of us.”

Jack’s eyes grew wide, his excitement rising. “You mean like a spy?”

“Aye. Do you think you can do that for me?”

Jack straightened his shoulders. “Yes, sir. You can count on me, Sheriff.”

Brodie breathed a sigh of relief, then remembered he was about to head into a firestorm at the feed lot. His days never failed to surprise him.