“Iva Lee, it won’t be long before we truly control Texas. I will be its queen. Yes, the Queen of Texas! The governor is already ours—and the power of his office. Yes, it is!” She spoke evenly, staring at a wall. “It is good you are here with me. I need your strength.”
A knock at her door broke her reverie.
“Yes, who is it?”
“Tanner. We’ve got trouble.”
“So I see. Just a minute.”
Opening the door, she greeted the well-dressed lawyer tersely. He had watched the arrival of Jaudon’s men. Removing his hat, he stepped inside.
“What’s our next move?” she asked.
Wilson Tanner wasn’t surprised by her blunt approach. No “good morning” or “how are you?” or even “what went wrong?” He had worked with her for five years, representing her interests in all manner of legal concerns. She was smart, thorough and ruthless. Time wouldn’t be spent worrying about what had already happened; her focus would be totally on what they could, and should, do next. He loved her for it, but that emotion wasn’t returned. Their arrangement was strictly business. Although he had tried and tried.
Removing the thin cigar from his tight mouth, Tanner explained what had happened, as it was related to him by Jaudon, adding that he had gone to the jail immediately, announcing himself as the man’s legal counsel. He reminded her that several of her gunmen were in the No. 8 Saloon, as she always stationed them. She owned the saloon, but no one in town knew it. Of course, the task was one of the gang’s favorites and volunteers for the task were considerable. Until it was made clear no one was to drink. They were in town to provide any quick reaction.
“I know where my men are, Tanner,” she said coldly. “Now is not the time.”
“Of course.”
“I’m going to have some breakfast,” she said, patting her hair to make certain it wasn’t disturbed by the introduction of her hat. “You find out when the hearing is scheduled.”
“What if the judge hasn’t set it yet?”
Her stare made him wish he hadn’t said that.
“I’ll get it done,” he quickly added, glancing at his polished boots and avoiding her gaze.
“Good,” she said. “Then ride to the ranch and tell Paulus to drive those rebranded cattle to town. Fast. We’ll turn this thing around real quick.”
She smiled and it was a wicked grin that caught her eyebrows and cocked them. “Tell Judge Opat to expect a telegram from the governor.”
“Citale?”
“Do we have another governor?”
“No, of course not.” He returned the cigar to his mouth and his hat to his head, adjusting it to tilt slightly.
“Tell Jaudon his defense remains the same. Exactly the same. This will be the day the Rangers will never forget.” Her laugh was more of a snort.
Tanner spun and left.
“Iva Lee, by tomorrow the Rangers will be history.” This time her laugh ricocheted around the room.
Chapter Six
Weary Rangers John Checker and A. J. Bartlett walked into the restaurant after seeing Jaudon and his men secured in the jail’s cells. Checker’s leg was stiff and aching, but he tried not to favor it. A hearing would be set as soon as convenient with Judge Opat, the sheriff advised with little apparent interest in the matter.
They were soon enjoying ham, eggs and potatoes, washed down with hot coffee, when Lady Holt entered the restaurant. Her presence stopped the filled eatery for an instant as men and women throughout the room watched her grand entry.
The restaurant owner rushed to greet and guide her to a table kept exclusively for her use when she was in town. The table was adorned with a green cloth, laced around the edges. She thanked him in French as he helped her into the high-backed chair. A china cup and saucer, filled with fresh coffee, appeared in front of her from a wide-eyed waiter. A second cup and saucer were placed across the table, as she always insisted. No one knew why. A second waiter presented a china cream and sugar set. The china was hers, not the regular restaurant fare.
After ordering, she asked the bushy-headed owner with eyebrows to match about the two men on the far side of the room.
“They’re Rangers, Lady Holt,” he said, swallowed and added, “Ah, they brought in Mr. Jaudon and his men. Some kind of problem at the Gardner Ranch. A misunderstanding, I am certain.”
“I would like to talk with them, please.”
“Certainly.”
Straightening his narrow shoulders, the owner walked to the table where Checker and Bartlett were finishing their breakfasts. He didn’t like being in the middle of this and bit his lower lip to control his anxiety.
“Rangers, Lady Holt would like a word.” He rubbed his hands together nervously. “Ah, she’s over there. At the green table.” He looked away toward the wall. “Lady Holt is…a very powerful woman around here.”
“Is she, now?” Checker said, cutting his ham.
A. J. Bartlett looked at John Checker, smiled and said, “ ‘A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, and most divinely fair.’ ”
The owner frowned, not understanding Bartlett’s quote from Tennyson’s “A Dream of Fair Women.”
“Please, sirs. I don’t want any trouble…with her. Please.”
“I’m sure you don’t. Tell her we’ll come over. After we’re through eating.”
Checker’s eyes indicated there was no need for further discussion.
“Ah, certainly. I will tell her. Certainly.”
Checker took another sip of his coffee. “An’ bring us some more coffee.”
“Oh, certainly, sir. Certainly.”
As soon as the excited man left, Bartlett said quietly, “I’m kinda excited about meeting her. What do you think she wants?”
“To warn us.”
“Oh yeah. Guess so.”
Bartlett started to add more, but the owner returned with a fresh pot of coffee. Both Rangers thanked him and completed their meals in silence. Finished, they stood, dropped coins beside the empty plates and headed for Lady Holt’s table.
Checker’s leg wouldn’t take pressure for a few steps. Finally, he was able to slide it along as he moved the other. He didn’t like the adjustment and quickly forced his wounded leg to walk normally.
“Ma’am, you asked to see us?” Checker said, holding his hat in his hand.
“Oh yes, thank you. Please sit down.” She motioned with both hands toward the chairs on either side of her intentionally empty chair across from her. A quick flip of her hand brought fresh coffee cups from a nervous waiter. They were her china.
Bartlett started to sit.
“No, thanks, ma’am. We’ll stand. Got work to do,” Checker spat.
Lady Holt studied Checker appreciatively. “Well, your choice. I was hoping you might be interested in knowing the truth.”
“Always interested in the truth.” Checker folded his arms.
She grinned. “Good. Then you should know Emmett Gardner is a rustler. He’s stolen some of my beef. Under my orders, my men went to bring him in for trial. If you ask the sheriff, you will find they acted under his approval.”
Checker shook his head. “No, ma’am, Emmett Gardner isn’t a rustler—and you know it. Or should. He’s a good man. Working hard to help his sons grow straight and tall. Working hard to make that small ranch pay.”
She lifted her coffee cup slowly; her eyes locked on to his.
“Jaudon has been arrested for attempted murder. He and his men,” Checker spat. “That is the truth.”
Bartlett cocked his head and added, “ ‘Is it so true that second thoughts are best?’ ”