CHAPTER 34

Here’s your white flag.” Trudy placed a long stick in her brother’s hand. Fluttering from the top end was a white petticoat. He didn’t want to know whose.

“Mr. Fennel, there’s one more thing.” Ethan looked around at Hiram, Trudy, and Cyrus. Griff Bane stood a few yards away, checking his saddle. The rest of the townsfolk had dispersed in a large cordon around the ranch. Libby had set up an ammunition station on the back of Josiah’s wagon. Even Rose had stationed herself with the Harper ladies several yards away.

“What do you want?” Cyrus stood by his roan with the reins in his hands.

Ethan dropped his voice. “You said Isabel doesn’t know Kenton is her father. Does Kenton know that she is his daughter?”

“No. So far as he knows, Isabel is mine and Abigail’s.”

Ethan let out his breath. “So he’s not apt to spill the beans to her in there.”

“No. I suppose he could tell her he was married to her mother.” Cyrus’s face twisted, and he looked away, toward the mountains.

Trudy touched his arm. “I’m sorry this is happening, Mr. Fennel. Do you think it would help the situation if Kenton did know that?” She looked at Ethan. “I mean, he might be less likely to hurt Isabel if he knew she was truly his kin.”

“It’s too risky,” Ethan said. “If Isabel learns it from him, she might be overwrought. There’s no telling what she would do.”

Cyrus clenched his fists. “Besides, if Kenton knew, he might try to take Isabel away with him and force her to do things she shouldn’t. That’s what he did with her mother thirty-five years ago. Why would he do any differently now?”

Ethan nodded reluctantly. “All right. We won’t tell him. Just go in to where he can hear you and see if you can get him to release her.”

Griffin walked over, leading his big gray gelding. “I’m going, too.”

Cyrus hesitated then nodded. “All right then. The three of us.”

Ethan looked at him, Hiram, and Griff. “Godspeed.”

Hiram walked to Hoss. His stomach churned, but the docile bay gelding stood still for him while he mounted and shifted the flag to his other hand. He thought about taking his rifle from the scabbard and using it as a flag holder, but he might need his Sharps. And he couldn’t ride in there with it drawn. Kenton might not think that was neighborly. He pried a spot for the end of the flag stick between his right boot and the stirrup.

Cyrus led the way, and Hiram followed, with Griff trotting along behind. The sun neared its zenith, and Hiram’s cotton shirt stuck to his back. The breeze had died down. He could feel perspiration forming on his forehead along the sweatband of his hat.

The ranch house lay quiet, baking in the heat. The walls were built of logs, with only one small window on the front. Beyond the house lay the barn, corral, and the old soddy they used for a bunkhouse. Hiram remembered the Martins who had built the spread—two brothers. One of them had a skinny wife and two young’uns. They must have sold out to Cyrus and moved on five or six years ago. The isolated location was too far away from civilization for most women.

Cyrus’s horse slowed to a walk, and Hoss broke stride as well. Hiram urged him up beside the roan. A magpie flew from under the barn eaves and swooped toward the corral. Griff closed in on Cyrus’s other side, and they continued slowly toward the house, with the petticoat flag hanging limply over Hiram’s head. A glint of metal caught his eye. Someone crouched behind the farm wagon near the corral fence.

He started to speak, but the door to the house opened.

“Don’t come any closer.”

They halted and stared at the door. It stood open only a couple of inches, and Hiram couldn’t tell who had spoken. He saw a flicker of movement at the window to the left of the door frame as well.

“Tell Kenton I want to talk,” Cyrus yelled.

The door opened wider, and Kenton Smith—or John Kenton—stood in the shadowed opening with a rifle in his hands.

“Why are those men with you? I told you to keep your trap shut. This is between you and me.”

“Oh yeah?” Cyrus stood in the stirrups. “Then why have you got all your men guarding the house? Don’t tell me you threw that rock through my office window personally.”

Kenton shifted his gun so that the barrel pointed straight at them. “Have you got my money?”

“Not all of it. I told you—I can’t raise that kind of cash that fast.”

“Then go away until you’ve got it.”

“Even if I had the resources, there’s not that much hard money in Fergus. I’ll have to send to Boise City. It’ll take at least a couple of days.”

“No deal. I’ve been waiting a long time, Fennel. I want my money now.”

Cyrus’s hard gray eyes narrowed. “Let Isabel go, and give me a few days. I promise I’ll get the money.”

“Why should I believe you? I told you not to tell anyone, and you’ve brought two men with you. Next thing I know, the sheriff will ride up.”

“That’s your own fault,” Cyrus shouted. “I wasn’t alone when the rock came through the window. Mighty hard to keep something like that secret when you’ve got folks in the room with you.”

Another man appeared in the doorway behind Kenton, and they spoke in low tones.

“How much you got on you now?” Kenton yelled.

Cyrus hesitated. He looked askance at Hiram. “What do I say?”

“Ask to see Isabel.”

Cyrus leaned over and unhooked a canteen from his saddle. He took his time uncorking it and tipping it up for a drink. Hiram could almost taste the water running down his dry throat, and he looked away. The second man had come out where he could be seen. Eli Button.

Cyrus cleared his throat. “Kenton, I’m not going anywhere until I see my daughter.”

Kenton stared at him, his bushy eyebrows low. “What for?”

“To prove you’ve got her, for starters. And to see that she’s all right.”

Kenton turned his head and spoke to Button. The cowboy lumbered into the house, and they waited in tense silence.

After half a minute, Griffin said, “You think it’s possible they don’t have her?”

“It entered my mind.” Cyrus started to put his canteen back and paused. “You boys want a drink?”

“Thanks. I was wishing I’d brought something.” Griffin took the canteen and tipped it up for a swig. He passed it back to Cyrus, who relayed it to Hiram.

Hiram shook it. Half full. He took a mouthful and handed it back to Cyrus. “Thank you kindly. She wasn’t in your house when we went there, sir. Your men said they hadn’t seen her.”

“Well, you just never know. She could still be over at Libby Adams’s place. I’d hate to be doing this for nothing.”

“No sir, Mrs. Adams came along with the other folks from town,” Griffin pointed out. “She told us Miss Fennel left for home just before she opened the store this morning.”

Near the corral, a cowboy stood up behind the wagon, showing himself openly. He rested a shotgun on the side of the wagon and stared insolently at them. Hiram caught a suggestion of movement again at the window of the house.

Isabel burst through the door of the ranch house in a flurry of gray skirts. Hiram caught his breath. Button held her around the waist with a revolver pointed at her right ear. Hair fluttered about her face in disarray. Her frantic, pale eyes focused on her father, and her mouth opened in a silent plea.

Kenton looked her over and turned toward the horsemen.

“All right, you seen her. How much you got on you?”

The creases at the corners of Cyrus’s eyes deepened as he squinted. “About three dollars.”

“What?” Kenton limped toward them, brandishing the rifle. “You get outta here right now and get me the money. You’re a-wasting time! Be back by sundown, or Miss Isabel is a bye-bye. You get me?”

Hiram’s heart pounded in his throat.

Cyrus’s face went beet red. He stiffened in the saddle, and his horse pawed the ground.

“We’d best be going,” Griffin said softly. “Boss,” yelled the cowboy near the corral. Kenton turned his way. “Yeah?”

“They’s men out there.” The cowboy swept his arm in an arc, indicating the terrain toward the road and on each side.

“You double-crosser!” Kenton swung his rifle toward the horses and let off a charge.