Allison excused herself from the table to get some more water. Mason stood up to join her under the auspices of getting a breath of fresh air, and Seth didn’t have a problem with it. The old-timer warned he would be watching through the kitchen window with shotgun at the ready, which was just fine with both of them. Outside, Allison took the pitcher to a pump and started working the handle.
“You’re going to snap that off if you keep it up,” Mason pointed out.
That didn’t convince her to ease off in the least. “He’s trouble,” she said. “I always knew that.”
“Who are you talking about? Greeley?”
“Greeley, Oscar Lazenby, my father, take your pick. Why can’t they all just enjoy what they have and be done with it? Why do they all want more? It’s not like they need it. I mean, how much money does a person need? We’re not rich, but we’re comfortable. There are some men who don’t live far from here who are much better off and they seem just as comfortable. When is anyone just going to slow down and live instead of spending every waking moment grabbing for more?”
Mason stuck his hands in his pockets, looked over to the kitchen window, and nodded at the armed man staring back at him. “Money keeps the wheels greased and turning. Always will, I believe.”
“Why would I expect you to understand?” she sighed. “You’re a gunman.”
“No, I’m not. I’m a sporting man.”
“Right. And that’s so much better.”
“Pardon me, ma’am, but I’m not the one who started any of this,” Mason pointed out. “I am trying to fix it, however, and there isn’t a lot of time to do that.”
“I suppose there are real gunmen on their way so they can turn this house into a battlefield?”
“They’d be coming either way, as you already explained to your father in there. Considering the fact that Oscar Lazenby is only here a short time, I’d have to imagine the timing of a visit to this place from someone or other would also have been the same. At least I came to warn you and have a talk instead of kicking your door down and taking prisoners.”
The pitcher in Allison’s hand had overflowed several seconds ago, but she just now seemed to notice. She poured a little bit out, set it down on the step leading to the kitchen door, and dried her wet hands. “You’re right. It’s just that I don’t . . . not that I’m not . . . it’s just . . .”
Mason smiled at her. “You don’t know if you can trust me. Part of you wants to, but the other part is nervous that your father and his shotgun are in there instead of out here.”
Suddenly Allison’s hands appeared to have frozen in place. When she was able to move them again, she said, “Yes. That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
“It’s a miracle.” Mason tugged his lapel in what he thought was a very stately manner. “I am quite the wonder.”
“Or a lucky guesser.”
He dropped the stately act and said, “You’re a very nice woman and that just seemed to be something you might be thinking, which you would also have trouble saying to a man’s face. Also . . . why would you trust a complete stranger who brings such peculiar news?”
She winced, looked to the kitchen window, and showed Seth a very tired smile. “When he decided to sell off a perfectly good stable and carriage shop for that riverboat, I thought about putting him in an asylum. Soon the rats came out of the woodwork, asking for any number of favors from him. They were looking for money, offering bribes, trying to set up their games in the boat’s casino, demanding percentages from my father’s profits. It was a nightmare.”
“Sounds like it.”
“And after I thought it was over . . . here it comes again.”
“As a duly appointed representative of that nightmare,” Mason said, “I sincerely apologize.”
“Thank you. At least someone doesn’t think that riverboat was the best thing that’s ever come along.”
Mason removed a handkerchief from his breast pocket, took it to the pump, and dampened it. He then handed it over to Allison. “I believe we can put an end to this business with Greeley.”
She took the handkerchief and used it to dab at her brow. “Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Will it be ended quietly and without anyone getting hurt?” she asked.
Wincing, Mason said, “My intention was to do my best to—”
“That means no,” she snapped. “After living with my father for this long, I know mindless double talk when I hear it.” Allison glanced toward the house like a little girl who was afraid of being caught with a boy in the hayloft. Lowering her voice, she said, “He’s really not crazy.”
“I don’t believe I was the one who mentioned putting him in an asylum,” Mason said.
Grinning sheepishly, Allison handed back the handkerchief and said, “You seem like a good person, Mr. Mason, and I appreciate you trying to fix this instead of blindly following Greeley’s orders. Do you know my mother is in a bed upstairs and can’t be moved?”
“No.”
“Of course you don’t,” she said quickly. “Why would you? She is, though. That’s why I can’t have anything like this happen here.”
“I suppose you already know what I have in mind?”
“Whatever it is, it’s not likely to end up good for us and it could go especially bad for a woman who is too sick to stand up or get out of this house if need be. After all, that is the way men like Greeley and you deal with things, isn’t it?”
On one hand, Mason wanted to flatly deny he was the sort to deal with anything in a way that might get the wrong people hurt. On the other, he had to remind himself that there was a whole mess of guns and a knife inside that had been brought to that house on his person. While he struggled to pick the right words, Allison jumped right back in with some of her own.
“The road you want is right there,” she said while pointing to a wide path that dipped in close to the house before angling back out again. “Follow it for those few miles that we told you about and that’s where you’ll find Oscar Lazenby’s office. Give him our regards and that’s that.”
“No,” Mason said, “it isn’t. Now, I’ve been polite so far because I could use your help, but we’re only going to get one chance at making a move against Cam Greeley.”
“You’re the one making a move,” she said. “My family and I are simply out here living our lives.”
“This feud or whatever you want to call it involving Greeley, your father, and whoever else was going before I knew anything about it. Come to think of it, I’m the one who’s being trampled by this whole thing and I didn’t have anything at all to do with it.”
Allison stepped up to him and stared defiantly into his eyes. “And what is it you want me to do about it?”
“I’d appreciate some modicum of courtesy or possibly a hint of gratitude for being the one to deliver you out of this mess instead of delivering you into the waiting arms of Cam Greeley.”
“So you keep reminding me!”
“Only because you don’t seem to remember it,” Mason fired back.
“I’ll tell you what I do remember,” Allison said. “This land belongs to me and my family and we would be well within our rights to shoot anyone caught trespassing on it! We posted a sign if you’d bother reading it.”
Mason laughed. “You posted a sign? Then why don’t I just go back to my own business and we’ll see how your next visitors feel about your sign?”
The kitchen door swung open and Seth came out with shotgun in hand. “There a problem here?” he asked.
“No, Papa,” Allison said. “Go back inside.”
“Looked to me like you two were having words.”
Mason did his best to keep his voice level when he said, “It was just a misunderstanding. That’s all.”
Keeping his eyes on his daughter, Seth asked, “That all it was?”
Allison rubbed her water-cooled hands against her temples before nodding. “Yes. That’s all it was.”
“Even so,” Seth said as he fixed his eyes upon Mason, “perhaps you’d best leave before we have ourselves another misunderstanding.”
“Fine,” Mason snapped. “If you want me to go, I’ll go.”
“You do that.”
“Have it your way,” Mason said in exasperation. “When Greeley and his men come calling, you can ask them what they want. I just hope you’ve got it.”
“I can tell you what Greeley wants,” Seth said.
Both Mason and Allison looked at him, half expecting some tirade or other bit of nonsense to come out of his mouth. “What is it?” Mason asked.
“The original ownership papers for the Allie Girl.”
“You’ve got those?” Allison asked.
The old man nodded. “Why the hell do you think I keep calling it my boat?”