“You’ll get paid the same for what gets there just like the rest of us, Mr. Bennet—less the per head fee—just like we agreed. We won’t cheat you.” Darcy’s face was far more relaxed than his words. He had not taken offense at Bennet’s comment; he was just reciting their deal.
Bennet looked up at Darcy. “If I thought you would, Mr. Darcy, I wouldn’t have your people drive my cattle.”
Darcy nodded, pleased that they understood each other. “Wait until we get the rest of the herd across the river before you open the gate. My boys will take it from there.” Fitz rode back to the crossing while Darcy looked towards the northeast. “Fitz will take them across the B&R, pick up their cattle and some extra hands, then cross Rosings Creek. Ought to make ten miles today and hook up with the Chisholm Trail by tomorrow.”
The men watched the enormous herd pass south of the homestead after crossing the Long Branch. Hill waited until a couple of riders approached before opening the corral gate. The cowpokes expertly guided their charges towards the mass of walking beef.
Bennet was impressed. “Smartly done, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy wore an easy smile. “Thank you; they’re good men. You wouldn’t think this is Fitz’s sixth drive, would you? He’s a natural—that’s why he’s my foreman.”
“You don’t go with them?”
Darcy’s look darkened. “No, not since—” he caught himself. “I don’t do that anymore.”
Bennet nodded. “I understand—someone’s got to look out for your place.”
Darcy just grunted and turned Caesar around. His eye naturally fell on the porch and the lovely brown-haired girl in dungarees. She stood next to her mother, arms crossed over her chest, unintentionally pushing her breasts out and filling her shirt. Darcy caught himself staring at her chest and turned away, missing the suspicious glare on the girl’s face. She did not see the admiration in Darcy’s face, but her father did.
Mrs. Bennet was oblivious. “Will you stay for breakfast, Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy forced himself into impassivity. “Thank you kindly, Miz Bennet, but my sister’s waiting for me, and I’d best be getting back.”
“Another time, then?”
Darcy, not trusting his voice, simply nodded at the woman before taking his leave of Mr. Bennet, who watched him ride off with a thoughtful expression.
The light from the oil lamps filled George Whitehead’s office with a yellow glow. Whitehead was trying to get some paperwork done at his desk, but it was hard to concentrate while Denny paced in the middle of the room. Sally Younge, sitting on a couch across the room, shrugged her shoulders at Pyke, who was leaning against the far wall.
“Denny,” Whitehead sighed, “will you stop that confounded walking back and forth and sit down? It’s distracting.”
“I just don’t git it, Whitehead,” Denny grumbled while he continued to move about the room like a caged animal. “Why don’t we just move in an’ get rid o’ Darcy now?”
“Have patience. We’ll take care of Mr. Darcy when the time’s right.”
“But Fitzwilliam an’ half the Pemberley hands are gone to Kansas. He ain’t got nobody there! We can take ’em easy—just ride up, an’…” He whipped out his Colt and pantomimed shooting it. “Everything’s over.”
Whitehead sighed and put down his pen. “And then what? Assuming we got past the other half of Darcy’s men—you don’t think he’s undefended, do you? But let’s say for argument’s sake we were successful in storming Pemberley. What do you think would happen then? Governor Davis might be an Abolitionist Republican, but he can’t ignore the murder of Long Branch County’s most prominent citizen. He’d have the U.S. Cavalry or his new State Police on us in no time. And then where would we be? How can we hold on to Pemberley or the B&R with soldiers poking in to everything?” Whitehead laughed. “‘Everything’s over’? Yes, by God, everything would be over—for us!”
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
“Do what you’ve been doing, Denny! For God’s sake, haven’t you paid attention to anything I’ve said in the past three months? Everything is coming to fruition—better than we originally hoped!” He stood up, crossed over to the table near Pyke, and poured four drinks. He carried two and handed one to Sally, while Pyke helped himself. “Your men are well positioned at the B&R. Burroughs doesn’t even realize she’s lost control of her own ranch.” He handed a drink to Denny. “We already have half the county in our hands. Once this latest deal goes through, we’ll control the rest—including Pemberley—without firing a shot!”
Denny took a big swallow of his whiskey. “Controllin’ ain’t ownin’, Whitehead.”
“True.” Whitehead returned for his own glass. “But once we have everything in place—and all the money—then, well… if Will Darcy fell afoul of some desperados some evening, it will be up to Sheriff Denny to look into it, the man appointed by Mayor Whitehead. Understand?”
Denny threw back the rest of his drink. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. Big talk. But when? When is this all gonna happen? I’m tired o’ waitin’!”
“Soon. By the end of this year, as long as you do as you’re told.”
“An’ them settlers? They ain’t all leavin’ yet.”
“They will when the foreclosures start in earnest. But we can’t move too quickly, or we’ll invite an investigation. Just trust me, Denny.”
The gunman wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a cold light in his eyes. “I’ve been trustin’ you. But my boys are gettin’ restless. You better come through, an’ soon.”
“I will.”
“If’n you’ve been playin’ me—”
“Now, that would be incredibly stupid on my part, wouldn’t it? I need you, Denny—you’re my partner.” Whitehead grinned. “Why don’t you go over to the saloon and get a drink? It’s on me.”
Denny hesitated, then nodded, and left the room. Whitehead exhaled the breath he had been holding and returned to his desk.
“He’s dangerous, you know,” Sally said as she got up from the couch.
“She’s right, boss,” added Pyke unnecessarily.
“Really? That’s fucking observant of you two.” Whitehead took a drink. “Pyke, go keep an eye on him.”
Pyke quickly scrambled out of the room as Sally crossed behind Whitehead, running her hands through his hair. “I mean it. There’s no tellin’ when he’s gonna turn on you, George. Where did you find him, anyway?”
Whitehead allowed Sally’s ministrations to soothe his rage. “I met Denny in a barroom in Fort Worth, where I went to lick my wounds after Darcy ran me off Pemberley. Can you believe my bad luck? There was nothing for me back in Illinois, with my father dying during the war, and I had to go to this godforsaken place to make my fortune. I worked my ass off to get a political appointment from the Texas governor, and he sends me to the hometown of one of my prisoners from the war. I didn’t realize he was the same Darcy till he came riding up as I was paying court to Miss Gabrielle after her father died. Damn, she was ripe for a seduction! Another week or so, and there would have been nothing Darcy could have done about it but call me brother.
“I knew I needed a new plan to get what I want, and I needed men to back me up. Don’t get me wrong, my dear,” he smiled. “My investment in your establishment has been profitable, but I have bigger plans than being the owner of a whorehouse.
“Denny and his boys seemed a good candidate, and a couple of drinks later he agreed to throw in with me. It didn’t take much to get Mrs. Burroughs to agree to use him on the B&R.”
“Was that the same time you met that Elton fella?”
“No, that was later. Hah, Fort Worth’s been pretty good to me.”
Sally frowned. “I don’t trust Denny. Why don’t you get rid of him?”
Whitehead shook his head, interrupting Sally’s massage. “I can’t; I need him for now—him and his gang. That’s my army against Darcy. But don’t worry. Kid Denny’s days are numbered. He just doesn’t know it yet.” He took another drink. “He needs to get his mind off things. Go send him a girl—a young one, I think. He likes the young ones.”