3

The next day’s meeting provided no tangible results, except Musgrave’s promise to keep investigating. Two days after the fire, Regina entered Father Nowicki’s office, a disgusted expression on her face.

“Father, Jack Taylor is here again,” she announced.

“Tell him to come in,” the pastor replied.

“Certainly. But I’d rather tell him to go to Pieklo!”

“I heard that,” Nowicki called after her. “Confession on Saturday, Regina.”

“It’s no sin to speak the truth,” the housekeeper retorted.

A moment later, Taylor was standing in front of the pastor’s desk.

“Please have a seat, Mister Taylor,” Nowicki invited. “Would you care for some refreshment?”

“No thank you,” Taylor answered. “I just spoke with Jerzy Markewicz. I made him an offer for his land. A fair offer, considering the fire destroyed his property.

However, he refused it. He tells me your parishioners will be rebuilding his home on Saturday.”

“That is correct, along with some of the townspeople,” Nowicki confirmed. “Are you offering your assistance?”

“Hardly,” Taylor snorted. “I came to stop that fool idea. Markewicz’s property is worthless. It will be next spring before he can replant crops. He can’t survive that long. Either he accepts my offer or I’ll have his land for the taxes after the county takes it.”

“Jerzy’s friends will provide the assistance he needs to survive the winter,” Nowicki replied. “Perhaps you have forgotten about the virtue of charity, Mister Taylor.”

“Charity my …” Taylor caught himself. “Father, I’ll have Markewicz’s land, and all the properties I’m after. Mark my words.”

Nowicki fixed the rancher with a firm gaze. He responded, “Even if it means destroying property, setting fires, and endangering lives?”

“You can’t prove that!” Taylor snapped.

“You are correct, of course,” the pastor agreed. “And I hope I am wrong. But even a priest can only be pushed so far. Unless you have something further to discuss, I must bid you good day.”

“Just consider what I said,” Taylor insisted. “I’ve warned you once what would happen if I didn’t get what I wanted. I don’t intend to warn you again.”

“I already have. And I’m tired of your threats. Please don’t slam the door on your way out.”

Taylor opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut. He stalked out of the rectory, climbed into his saddle, and dug his spurs deep into his horse’s flanks, sending the animal into a dead run.