“So you claim,” Tom rejoined. “But how can we be sure? Charles and Roland have both said they will play nice but how do we know one or both of them hasn’t paid to have the rest of us killed?”
“The same applies to you,” Charles said.
“That it does,” Tom agreed. “So it won’t do me any good to give you my word that the assassins aren’t my doing.”
“As if we would believe you anyway,” Charlotte said.
A strained silence fell, broken only when Sam turned to Theodore Pickleman. “I have a question about the hunt.”
“Anything I can answer, I will,” the lawyer assured her.
“Father said the chest is buried within half a mile of the lodge. Is that correct?”
“It is,” Pickleman verified.
“I’m not much good at judging distances. How will I know when I’ve gone half a mile? I could end up going farther and waste a lot of time I could put to better use.”
“Ah,” Pickleman said. “I forgot to tell you, didn’t I?”
“Tell us what?”
“Your father, as usual, thought of everything. Since he couldn’t very well have a fence built to mark the boundary, he stipulated the next best thing. Yesterday, servants rode out half a mile in every direction and marked trees and boulders and logs with red paint. Spot those and you’ll know to turn around.”
Charles said, “You can’t have marked every tree and boulder. We could easily miss them.”
“True,” Pickleman said. “As an added precaution, servants have been stationed at various points along the perimeter and will yell to any of you they see going past the half-mile mark.”
Charles gave a sudden start and blurted, “I’ll be damned.”
“What?” Pickleman asked.
“Nothing,” Charles said. “I was thinking of poor Emmett, is all.”
The lawyer consulted his pocket watch. “Five minutes. Any of you who want a last drink or bite to eat should get it quickly.”
No one moved.
“Very well. Remember, the hunt is to last twenty-four hours. Not a minute longer. If none of you have found the chest by six o’clock tomorrow morning, I’m to fire another shot and that will be the end of it.”
“What if we keep looking and find the chest five minutes after six?” Charles asked.
“It doesn’t matter. Six is the deadline. After that, the money and the holdings are to be administered by the executor and there is nothing you can do to stop it.”
“One of us will find the damn thing long before that,” Tom predicted.
“That could very well be,” Pickleman said. “In which case I will fire four shots in the air, one after the other, to signal to the rest that the chest has been discovered.”
Roland stepped up to Samantha and held out his hand. “I wish you luck, sister.”
Sam looked at his hand and then at his face. She shook. “The same to you. Be careful out there.”
“Watch out for snakes and bears,” Roland cautioned. “Although with Fargo to help you, you should do fine.”
“How touching,” Tom said.
Roland turned. “I don’t blame you for being cynical. But I want you to know something. I want all of you to know that if I find the chest, I’m sharing the inheritance. Each and every one of you will get an equal amount, both in money and in property.”
“Always the noble one,” Samantha said.
Tom chortled. “Oh, please. Next you’ll have him walking on water.”
“Must you be so cruel?”
“Must you be so gullible? Our dear brother says he will share now, but who can predict what he’ll say if he’s the one who finds the damn chest? He might change his mind.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Roland said.
“No, not someone so noble,” Tom mocked him.
Her jaw twitching, Samantha went down the steps two at a stride, her dress swishing noisily.
Tom saw her coming. “Yes, dear sister? What’s on your mind?”
Sam smacked him. She hit him so hard, she rocked Tom on his heels. Shocked, he put a hand to his cheek. Cletus Brun swore and started to reach for her but Tom swatted his hand away.
“Don’t you dare. She might be a fool and she might be deluded but she’s still my sister.”
Sam had her arm poised to slap him again. “I won’t have you talk like that to Roland. Do you hear?”
“Whatever you say,” Tom said sullenly.
Theodore Pickleman announced, “Three minutes.” Then he reached under his jacket and produced a pistol.
Fargo had been watching Samantha and didn’t realize Charlotte was next to him until she touched his elbow.
“Have you thought over what we talked about?”
“I told you. I’m working for your sister.”
“You can work for both of us. She doesn’t have to know. If you find the chest, inform me, not her. You’ll leave here with enough money to keep you in whiskey and whores for a year.”
“A bottle a night adds up,” Fargo said.
Charlotte gripped his wrist. “I’m serious.”
“I already gave you my answer.” Fargo pulled loose. “And if I see those two killers you hired, gun or no gun, it will be them or me.”
“I didn’t hire anyone, damn you. Certainly not that oafish Anders and not the brother and sister you say are trying to kill us.”
Fargo almost believed her, she sounded so sincere. “If you’re telling the truth you’d better keep one eye behind you or whoever did hire them will get to gloat over your corpse.”
Charlotte gazed at her siblings and said fiercely, “It’s turned out exactly as Father wanted. Here we are, at one another’s throats, with no one believing a word anyone else says. He truly was a devil.”
“Stay with your cousin at all times,” Fargo advised. “Don’t separate for any reason.”
“What’s this? Concern for my safety? When you just branded me a liar?”
“I could be wrong.”
“You’re a fool like all the rest,” Charlotte said in disgust, and walked back to where Amanda was waiting.
“Two minutes,” Pickleman said.
“I feel like a racehorse at the starting gate,” Charles observed.
Fargo went down the steps to Samantha. She had moved away from the others and stood with her head bowed. “Are you all right?”
“I shouldn’t have done that, lost my temper the way I did. Smacking him was wrong.”
“He’s a jackass.”
“True,” Sam agreed. “But he’s also my brother and I care for him whether he believes I do or not.” She sadly shook her head. “Father must be laughing in his grave.”
“Maybe it will turn out all right.”
“Listen to yourself. You know it won’t. I have the feeling I’m setting eyes on some of them for the last time.” Sam groaned. “If only we could call it off.”
“One minute,” the attorney hollered.
“I’ll do what I can to protect you,” Fargo promised. Not that there was a whole hell of a lot he could do when all he had was a knife.
“If it comes to that, protect the others, too. I’ll pay you extra. I never expected anything like this when I sent for you.”
“It’s not the money,” Fargo said.
“It is to us.”
Theodore Pickleman pointed the pocket pistol at the sky and thumbed back the hammer. “The time has come, ladies and gentlemen. Let the inheritance hunt commence.”
The shot was like the crack of doom.
14
The Missouri woods were thick and lush, the dense tangle of undergrowth nearly always in shadow. Fargo glided through it as silently as an Apache. He couldn’t say the same about Samantha Clyborn.
Sam had bolted for the woods the instant the pistol went off. Charlotte had done the same, in a different direction, Amanda at her heels. Tom hurried into the trees to the north, urging Cletus Brun to go faster. Charles jogged to the south. Only Roland walked.