Adella nibbled at the corner of one flapjack and took a few bites of scrambled egg, then quietly excused herself to go back to her cabin. Helpless, Buck watched her leave, unable to think of anything he could do or say to make her feel better. He suggested to Doreen that perhaps a walk down to the bathing pool and a little woman to woman time would be in order.
Buck and Rafe frittered away the better part of the morning shooting the bull on the porch until the ladies returned. Adella offered him a brave little smile and complained that she was hungry. That cheered Buck right up.
After a repast of cold ham and apple pie, Rafe volunteered to pull thistles from around the outhouse and along the path.
Buck left the ladies relaxing in the parlor to fetch the scythe from the barn. The sounds of horses and riders coming into the yard set his heart to racing, his hopes soaring to the rafters.
Gabe? Van? The girls, they’d made it home.
When he opened the barn door, his heart plummeted to a region dark and cold within his chest.
Four men on horseback, wearing black hats pulled low over their brows, and black dusters flapping in the breeze escorted a horse and buggy into the yard. Edditha, looking pale and apprehensive, sat huddled next to Cornell in the buggy. Cornell’s gaze darted toward the barn door and Buck.
Behind the buggy rode a man dressed in a red riding coat with black lapels, tan jodhpurs, shiny black riding boots, and a black-billed hat. He led a horse carrying a sagging, barely conscious Nils Norquist.
Buck had never seen the red coat before, but the proud lift of his square chin and the set of his thick shoulders proclaimed him the leader of this entourage. Turning away from the dandy, Buck saw they’d tied Norquist’s hands to the pommel, and his face was ashen and bruised.
“Ah, Mr. Buxton,” called out the dandy in the red coat. Without a glance, he tossed the reins of Norquist’s mount to one of his minions, dismounted with amazing agility considering his rotund build, and in two long strides came within a few feet of Buck. The big open grin he wore on his ruddy face exposed an abundance of oversized yellow teeth, giving Buck the shivers.
“Ivers McDaniel, Mr. Buxton. At last, we meet,” he said, thrusting his gloved, meaty paw out for Buck to shake.
The grin held Buck’s attention. It reminded him of a picture he’d seen of a camel in one of his magazines, too many teeth and gums exposed. The man had small, beady blue eyes, too small for his big round face. Buck held his ground, arms at his side, unyielding.
Rafe and Doreen came out of the house. Buck glanced up when he heard the screen door snap shut. McDaniel heard it too. His head pivoted around, forced grin in place. “And Mr. Bollo, I would know you anywhere, you are legend hereabout. And your mate, the beautiful whore, Doreen…also famous.” The man laughed, loud and bawdy.
Buck reckoned the man a damned fool.
Rafe cocked the rifle with a quick, deadly, one-handed flick of his wrist and brought it up to his hip, pointing it at McDaniel’s gut. “You cocky son-of-a-bitch, this lady is my wife. She is Mrs. Bollo to you. You will apologize now, or I’ll shoot your fancy red coat full of holes.”
McDaniel chuckled and shook his head—also foolish, thought Buck.
“Tut, tut, I meant no offense,” he said, removing his cap and offering Doreen a sweeping, deep bow. “I beg your pardon, madam.”
Madam, not Mrs. Bollo. The insult was not lost on anyone, nor the sarcastic tone in which it was delivered. Rafe had his finger on the trigger. McDaniel remained impervious.
“You Yanks, so sensitive about your courtesans. Where I come from a mistress takes precedence over a mere wife. I envy you, old boy. You have both in your delightfully delicious little baggage.”
Rafe looked ready to explode. Stepping around McDaniel, Buck quickly headed for the porch and reached Rafe before he could make his move. Jaw clenched, eyes mere slits, Rafe barely had himself under control.
McDaniel continued to prod. “I do wish you would lower your weapon, Mr. Bollo, you’re making my men nervous.”
Buck raised his head and indeed, all four men had their guns trained on them with their fingers on the trigger. Rafe lowered his rifle, his arms going to his side. Doreen stepped behind him and peered around his shoulder.
“Ah, much better,” said McDaniel. “I’ve had a bit of bother gathering up all pertinent parties. I found it positively providential we chanced upon young Norquist. Negotiations had broken down with his father. I hope for a better outcome here at your lovely hot spring. I see no need for violence. I’m here to talk business. I see no reason why we can’t come to a peaceful and profitable agreement. May I suggest we adjourn inside, out of the sun, where I can lay out my proposition?”
McDaniel turned his head and nodded to his minions. Three of them dismounted, and one held Norquist’s horse as they shoved him out of the saddle. One of the men had gone over to the buggy. He poked Cornell in the ribs with his pistol, prodding him to get down. Cornell shoved the black hat aside to help Edditha alight. A bit of a tussle ensued. Cornell found himself on his knees in the dust, looking up into the barrel of a six-shooter. Edditha, none too gently, got picked up by the waist and hauled out of the buggy by the enemy. Cornell defiantly got to his feet and put his arm around her, protectively guiding her toward the house.
Once Cornell and Edditha made it to the bottom step of the porch, Buck spoke up. “I don’t think we care to do business with you, Mr. McDaniel. And by the look of him, I’d say neither does Mr. Norquist. You can take your proposition, and your henchmen, and get off my property.”
“Now, now, Mr. Buxton. I don’t think you should be too hasty. There may be factors you and Mr. Bollo should consider before dismissing my offer out of hand.”
All this time, standing on the porch, Buck felt Adella watching, felt her listening. She hadn’t come out on the porch—smart girl. She’d stayed behind the screen door back in the shadows, out of sight, and he hoped she had sense enough to stay put. He didn’t know if she could hold herself back now Edditha stood in the middle of this confrontation.
Buck eyed the blackguard, deducing the arrogant son-of-a-bitch had Jo and Birdie or had a hand in whatever fate had befallen them—why else would he be so cocksure of himself? He couldn’t be certain of anything, but a gut feeling told him McDaniel had a hand in every piece of bad luck that had befallen them of late. All this time he’d thought it was Nils Norquist pulling the strings, but it would appear Norquist was McDaniel’s victim, too.
Buck glanced to the side and caught Rafe’s eye. His friend nodded, and Buck knew Rafe had come to the same conclusion.
“Let’s quit dancing around. What do you want, McDaniel? What do you have that I want? And what’s in this proposition of yours for me and mine?”
McDaniel pulled a snow-white, lace-trimmed kerchief from his coat pocket and mopped his forehead and sweaty, red neck. “The sun is hot, Mr. Buxton, won’t you invite me in? We’ll talk over a glass of something cool like civilized people and find mutual benefit, I’m sure.”
Buck looked into the sun. Maybe an hour past noon. The boys could show up any time now. With any luck, they’d have the girls with them. McDaniel obviously thought he had the upper hand. Buck counted on his boys, counted on his girl and Birdie. They were all smart, all self-reliant, and fighters.
No, better to stay out here in the open, in the sun, where they could be seen. Van and Gabe might otherwise ride into a trap. Buck prayed they had the girls with them—he had to place all of his bets on Gabe and Van. They would be his ace. If they had the girls, then the fancy bastard didn’t have any cards at all.
“Hmm, no, I think I’m comfortable right here,” he said with a smirk twitching at his lips. “How about you, Rafe? You okay out here?”
Rafe nodded, pulled his lips back, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. Buck made the challenge to McDaniel. “Say your piece. Let’s hear your proposition.”
“Doreen, get Mr. Norquist a glass of water,” Buck ordered. “Edditha, go inside with Doreen.”
Silently, he said, Go inside, and stay inside with Adella.
Doreen stepped back toward the door at the same time one of the henchmen, a big, tall, giant of a man, grabbed Edditha, snatching her from Cornell’s grasp. While he wrestled with her as she kicked and screamed, the other thug, also big and burly, grappled with Cornell, who swung wildly at his attacker.
McDaniel removed his cap and scratched his head with two fingers. “Oh, my, I hoped to go about this peacefully. But you will persist in resistance.” He took in a long pull of air, set his cap firmly on his thinning pate of red hair, puffed out his barrel chest, and gave his recommendation. “Foote, you and Patch escort the women inside. Secure them. Foote, you stay with them to make certain they don’t attempt to harm themselves by being foolishly brave.”
“Oh, and Foote, relieve Mr. Bollo of his weapon, with force if necessary,” McDaniel said as the man McDaniel addressed as Patch escorted Edditha none too gently up the steps. He shoved Buck and Rafe aside, grabbed Doreen by the forearm, and pushed her through the opened screen door.
Buck caught the nod Rafe had given Doreen before she went out of sight. He’d surrendered his rifle without resistance to the man called Foote. Cornell righted himself and took up his position on the step below Buck. Buck hoped Adella had herself well hidden. He didn’t know what she could do, but he didn’t want her presence discovered.
McDaniel’s two remaining henchmen aimed their guns at them while they waited for Patch to rejoin them on the porch. Buck heard sounds of a scuffle going on in the house. Doreen wouldn’t surrender without a fight. Both he and Rafe knew it. He winced, as did Rafe, when he heard a yowl of pain. They were both familiar with Doreen’s favorite weapon, her teeth, she could tear and rip hide with those teeth. In time, silence prevailed, and Patch reappeared, limping, somewhat disheveled and nursing his right hand, blood dripping from his left ear.
Patch stood guard beside McDaniel’s horse. McDaniel went to the far side of his mount to open his saddlebag. While McDaniel rifled through his saddlebag, inside the house Buck heard a distinctive wang and ker-thunk—the porch floor even shook a little. Rafe kept his eyes straight ahead, although his lips did twitch a bit.
Impervious, McDaniel didn’t look up from his saddle bag. Buck didn’t think McDaniel heard the sound. At least Buck hoped he hadn’t. It sounded like a cast-iron skillet cracking a melon, or maybe, could it be? Foote’s head?
Clearing his throat, McDaniel waved a sheaf of papers above his head. “I have here a copy of your mortgage, Mr. Buxton. You are falling behind in your payments. One more missed installment and you will be in default of your loan. Rather than allow the bank foreclose, I’m here to make you a generous offer of twenty thousand dollars for the house, outbuildings, the hot spring, and the easement through the canyon. I have no use for the grazing land or the cattle. With the twenty thousand, you may rebuild elsewhere.” He waved his hand dismissively toward the east. “This property has potential, potential you, Mr. Buxton, will never achieve. I am a man of vision, Mr. Buxton. It will take a man of vision to create the greatest health spa on this side of the Rocky Mountains.”
Buck stood unmoved. McDaniel continued. “I am aware you have your reasons to hang on to this property…the canyon road…sentimental reasons. Once I blast the worthless boulder to bits, your sentiments will no longer keep you hanging on. I have with me the dynamite to take care of it today. Unfortunately, young Norquist failed in his attempt. I hoped the matter of the damn boulder would be taken care of by now. I went to a lot of bother to switch those instructions. I felt certain of my success. But then, don’t you often find if you want a job done right, you should do it yourself, Mr. Buxton?”
Buck pressed his lips together to keep from shouting cuss words. If he had to keep quiet much longer, he thought his jaw might break.
“As for you, Mr. Bollo, I understand you are a silent partner with Norquist and Son Enterprises. I have my eye on one of your holdings called, of all things serendipitous, The Winning Hand Mine. I’ve investigated the mine-site, and I’m assured it has promise. I want your mine, Mr. Bollo. I have yet to convince Mr. Norquist to sell it to me—he wouldn’t even discuss details. Perhaps now, now we have all the interested parties gathered up, he will see the benefit of signing the deed of sale today. I’m counting on you to wield your influence, Mr. Bollo. I abhor violence.”
Buck had heard enough. “Get off my property,” he managed to say through his clenched teeth. “It is still my property. Get off. Take your thugs and get.”
McDaniel smiled and drew back his lips, his piggy eyes narrowing. “I advise you not to be hasty. I am aware there are family members absent, you see, namely your daughter, Mr. Buxton. And Mr. Bollo, it is a stroke of luck, a bonus, if you will, we have your daughter as well. Young Norquist informed me, you see. At first, I was not pleased, but upon reflection, I see it now as an extraordinary stroke of luck. Your sons, Mr. Buxton, no doubt tried their best to locate the fair damsels, but I feel confident you will want my assistance to bring them home safe and sound.
“And, lest you forget, I have your ladies secure inside your home, Mr. Buxton. Foote will release them, and I will see to it your daughters are returned as soon as you sign these documents.”