Pemberley Ranch (28 page)

Sheriff Lucas escorted Sally Younge over to the jail for her “protection,” while Fitz and the deputy followed with the stacks of papers. What no one saw was the face of Pyke, peering out of the livery stable barn and watching every move.

November 1

I
T WAS PAST MIDNIGHT
when six riders approached the entrance into the Bennet farm, the full moon lighting the lane between two low hills. Darcy looked to either side as they moved along the lane, spotting proper sites to stage his ambush before turning his thoughts to the task ahead. What he had to tell Mr. Bennet was beyond painful, and he hoped the man would believe him. He refused to allow himself to speculate how Beth would take the news. To hurt
her
was unthinkable, and he needed all his courage and resolution for the hours ahead.

He glanced at the young woman riding next to him. Thankfully, Lily’s impassioned outburst seemed to drain the girl of any more words—that and the natural discomfort she must have felt over her impending reunion with her family. Darcy’s words to her held more hope than conviction, and for her sake, he prayed that Thomas Bennet was a Christian man in more than name only.

The riders finally reached their destination. They passed
a series of low structures—chicken coops and hog pens by the smell—and entered a large, open area before the pitch-dark farmhouse. It was a low-slung building, a porch spanning the whole of the front exposure, with two sets of windows framing the center door. The house faced due east, better to catch the morning light in what was sure to be the living area of the place while protecting it from the hot afternoon sun. There were no trees to fall on the house in case of a storm, and a large barn was off to the left. They could see no well or outhouse, and he assumed those were in the rear.

Darcy waved his hand, and the Pemberley riders formed a semicircle before the house, Darcy and Lily in the middle. Darcy stood up in his saddle and called out.

“Hello, the house! Bennet! Tom Bennet! It’s Will Darcy! I come in peace! I’ve found something that belongs to you! Hello, Tom Bennet, it’s Will Darcy!”

Darcy waited for a minute, wondering if he would have to shout again, when he saw a light moving from inside the house. Motioning to his companions to be still, he watched the front door open.

“Who’s there? I… I see you! Who are you?” A disheveled man, still in his nightclothes, peeked out, brandishing a shotgun.

Darcy called back, “Are you deaf, Tom Bennet? It’s Will Darcy, come to visit!”

“Will Darcy?” Bennet stepped out onto the porch. “What the hell are you about, man, coming around here at this time of night?” He started as his eyes adjusted to the darkness and could see the others in the moonlight. He raised his gun to his shoulder, aiming at Darcy. “Why are you all here? I know how to use this! Speak smartly now!”

“Put those guns away!” Darcy barked at his men, some of whom had drawn their pistols at the threat from Bennet. He dismounted and began to walk towards the irate farmer, holding his hands out wide. “Now just hold on, Bennet! I mean no harm! I’ve got something here that belongs to you, and I figured you’d want it back right away.” Looking closely, Darcy could see faces peeking from behind the window curtains. Knowing them to be the Bennet women, he wondered which one was Beth.

Bennet lowered his gun, his face a mass of uncertainty. “Something of mine? What’re you talking about?”

“You’ll see.” Darcy slowly turned and gestured. A moment later, Lily, still in her dancehall outfit, dismounted and walked slowly towards the house.

“Who… who’s that?” croaked Bennet.

As gently as he could, Darcy said, “It’s your daughter, Lily, come home.”

Bennet gasped. “L-Lily!?”

“Daddy?” Lily managed as the light of the lantern lit her face.

Bennet made a strange sound in his throat, dropped the shotgun, and ran towards the girl, arms outstretched. “Lily? My God, Lily!”

Tears running down her face, Lily met him halfway. As they embraced, a screech came from the house, and a white blur ran out the door. Fanny Bennet threw herself upon her husband and daughter, screaming and crying. Darcy tore his eyes from the spectacle to the porch. There, three Bennet girls stood, two in unbelieving confusion, the third staring directly at him. Darcy’s heart jumped at the sight of Beth Bennet, holding a robe closed at her throat, her curly hair half obscuring an unreadable
expression on her face. He wondered if she knew that he was doing all this for her and her alone.

Bennet’s voice broke him out of his ruminations. “I must thank you, Mr. Darcy, for returning my daughter.” His voice grew harder. “I don’t wish to seem ungrateful, but I must ask— how is it that Lily came to be in your company?”

“Father!” cried Beth, capturing Darcy’s attention again. “You shouldn’t be questioning Mr. Darcy. We owe him a debt we can never repay!” By then, Mrs. Bennet and Lily had reached the porch, and the wayward girl was greeted with great emotion by her sisters.

Bennet turned to the door. “Quiet, girl, and get yourself inside! All of you! You aren’t decent!”

“Men, dismount and take your ease,” Darcy called and moved next to the farmer. “Bennet, I’ve much to tell you, and we’ve little time. This isn’t the place for our talk. May we go inside?”

Darcy stared out into the moonlight outside the window in Bennet’s small study, trying to give the weeping Tom Bennet a smidgeon of privacy. After offering such a disturbing report, Darcy had needed to settle his own emotions. To convince Bennet of the gravity of the threat his family faced, Darcy had no recourse but to tell the man all the horrible indignities suffered by Lily. It was one of the most painful episodes in Darcy’s life.

Finally, a sniffing Bennet addressed him again from behind his desk. “I… I thank you, sir, from the bottom of my heart, for all that you have done for my family.”

“I am sincerely sorry for what has happened.”

“Thank you, Darcy. We… we hoped she was still alive, but
in truth, we began to lose faith. I can’t tell you how we felt!” His red eyes grew angry. “But what she has suffered! Ruined at the hands of a man I trusted! Whose opinion I relied on! Who ate in my house!” A string of curses followed. “I’ll kill him!”

Darcy turned. “I’ve no right to ask, I know, but what’s to be done with Miss Lily?”

Bennet caught himself. “I… I don’t know. But she’s my daughter. I won’t abandon her.”

Darcy nodded in satisfaction. “Bennet, this is your house and your family. But may I say how much I respect you for your words? I’ll stand by you, and you and yours will always be welcomed in my home.” Darcy waited until his words had sunk in. “But we’ve got other matters before us—serious matters.” Darcy leaned on the desk. “I don’t say this lightly. You and your family are in grave danger. Whitehead will not sit idly by—no sir. He’ll come, and he’ll bring Denny and his hired killers with him. You must get your women out of here.”

“Come here? Why?” Bennet’s confusion gave way to understanding. “Is it because of Lily—of what she knows?”

Darcy nodded. “Yes, sir, that’s part of the answer. Whitehead has ambitions—of marrying well and political office. His treatment of your daughter will seriously damage those plans, should her story become widely known—if not ruin them altogether. He can’t allow her to run loose in the county; the risk is too great. But there is more to this. All of Whitehead’s plans hinge on one thing, and you, Bennet, are it. You’re the linchpin.”

“How can that be? Whitehead has advised me on things— that’s so—but I’m not involved in any business with him.”

“You’ve something he wants.”

Bennet grew angry. “Lily? That bastard wants my Lily back?”

“He wants Thompson Crossing.”

Bennet blinked. “He wants the ford across the Long Branch? Whatever for?”

A soft voice came from behind the men. “Does it have to do with the railroad?”

The men whirled about to behold Beth Bennet at the door of the study. Her hair was up, and she was dressed in her usual work clothes of dungarees and an oversized gingham shirt, but to Darcy, she looked like an angel. Before Bennet could object to her presence, Darcy cut in.

“What do you know about the railroad, Miss Beth?”

“Something Lily said about George and railroads.”

“What railroad?” Bennet demanded of Darcy. “Is the railroad coming here?”

“It is,” Darcy replied grimly. “Do you own a map of the county, sir?”

The map was found and soon spread over the expanse of Bennet’s desk. The three gathered about it as Darcy traced the course of the Long Branch River. “See how the river cuts the county in twain? It comes down from the north before turning eastward right by your farm, Bennet. It then runs generally southeast to eventually join with the Brazos. Most of the land to the north belongs to the B&R, while all south is Pemberley.

“Last week, I attended a meeting of potential investors in a proposed railroad from Fort Worth to Abilene, Texas. The company revealed its plans, and it’s something that’ll put the town on the map. The preferred route’s along the Long Branch River, crossing it near here before continuing westward.” He ran his finger slowly across the map. “This is the route, and here’s where they wish to build the bridge—right on your land,
Bennet.” His finger rested on Thompson Crossing, a half-mile south of the Bennet farmhouse. “They’ll be paying top dollar for land. Would you be willing to sell the right-of-way?”

Bennet nodded. “It’s far enough away from the house as not to be a bother, and it would get me out from under the mortgage. If the price is fair, I’ll sell. But what does this have to do with Whitehead?”

“Do you see something else about the route?” Darcy asked.

Beth gasped. “It goes across the new settlement!”

Darcy nodded. “You’re catching on, Beth.”

Bennet shook his head. “I don’t understand!”

Darcy straightened to his full height. “After we freed Miss Lily from Whitehead’s place, we discovered his private papers. Apparently, Whitehead has an accomplice inside the railroad company. Letters and telegrams indicate that he’s known about these plans for almost a year. I said Whitehead was ambitious. To achieve everything he wants, he needs money—lots of it. So he plans to get it from the railroad when they start buying up land for the route. He now owns all this,” he swept his hand over the homesteaders’ bottomland.

“But I thought the bank foreclosed on all those places. Doesn’t all that land belong to Rosings Bank and Mrs. Burroughs?” Bennet asked.

Darcy grimaced. “She thinks so, but she’s been cheated. The deeds were all transferred to a land company for pennies on the dollar, and Cate believes she owns it. Apparently, she knows about the railroad. She thought she was smart, stealing from her own bank. But she’s wrong—Whitehead actually controls the company. Billy Collins, the bank manager, is in on it. He’s played Cate false. And since Whitehead is the recorder of
deeds, he simply made them out in his name. Whitehead owns all the bottomland.”

Beth looked out of the window into the darkness. “All those homesteaders run off. That poor Washington family.” She turned back in anger. “All because of George’s greed! And Mrs. Burroughs’s, too! I suppose they had something to do with the lynching?”

Darcy reported what Lily had said.

Bennet sat in his chair. “So much evil in a small town! But, still, what does this have to do with me?”

“Thompson Crossing isn’t the only place the railroad has considered crossing the Long Branch. There’s another ford several miles downriver. If they build the bridge there, they would bypass the town and cross Pemberley land several miles south of my house. The company would prefer Thompson Crossing, as they planned to build a station in Rosings. Should they choose to cross at the other place, there wouldn’t be a stop for another twenty miles.” Darcy moved closer to the other man. “Knowing what you do now, would you still sell?”

Bennet rubbed his face. “I… I don’t rightly know. I hate the idea of putting money in the pocket of the man who has caused so much pain to my family.” He glanced at Darcy. “I suppose you would prefer I didn’t.”

Darcy shook his head. “You’re wrong, Mr. Bennet. Rosings needs that train stop. It means a stockyard for all the cattlemen. No more drives to Kansas City. New people, new goods, stores, schools—the town needs the railroad, sir.”

“That’s generous of you, Darcy, as the other route would mean the railroad would be paying you.”