September
Things changed in the weeks following the lynchings, as a cloud of fear and suspicion descended upon the town of Rosings. Unnecessary gatherings were curtailed, and events like the Ladies’ Musical Society meetings fell apart. Rather than the heat of battle, a cold mistrust pervaded the place as the people divided themselves into two camps: those who believed the tale of the roving band of Klansmen, and those who did not. The official explanation of the crime was championed by George Whitehead and Judge Phillips. Those who harbored doubts looked to William Darcy for leadership. Sheriff Lucas was caught in the middle.
Mr. Bennet kept his opinions to himself, refusing to discuss the doings in town with his family except to strictly enforce new rules around the farm. None of the women, including Mrs. Bennet, could go anywhere out of the house alone; they had to be accompanied by at least one other. Trips to town for any reason except supplies and church were forbidden. And he and Hill worked the barn and fields armed.
It was frustrating to Beth because the father she adored, a man who had always been open with her, was now silent and unbending. Nothing she did could convince him to talk about what was worrying him, but she knew he was worried; it was plain to see in his eyes. He worked from sunup to sundown, taking his meals in the fields and retiring to his study after supper. Beth could see that her mother, too, was at a loss to ease her father’s cares. So the family continued on as they had always done: they did their chores—only now they were done in silence. Only Lily seemed insensible to the strained atmosphere.
Try as he might, Bennet could not make his farm completely self-sufficient. Supplies were still needed from town. Most of the time he himself would take the wagon in, but one day the harvest was in full swing and none of the male hands could be excused. As the supplies were desperately needed, it was reluctantly agreed that Beth would journey to town that day with Lily keeping her company, the family shotgun in a box beneath the seat.
Instructed to go directly to Zimmerman’s and back, the girls passed the Bingley place without stopping. Lily kept up an endless stream of inane conversation to which Beth paid little mind. She was struck, instead, at how empty the streets of Rosings were. Usually at that time of day, people would be everywhere—working, shopping, or just visiting. Now the place resembled a ghost town.
The wagon team secured, Beth and Lily entered the general store. The place was empty; the small bell on the door alerted Mr. and Mrs. Zimmerman that customers had arrived. Obviously happy to have patrons, Zimmerman took the list of supplies Beth handed him and left to fill the order, leaving his wife to keep the girls company.
“Oh, we’re so happy to see you!” Mrs. Zimmerman said after exchanging the usual pleasantries. “Everything in town has been very… quiet. No one comes around anymore. We can see the smithy across the street, and it’s the same there. Business is bad.” She shook her head. “With that last family leaving the new settlement after that Washington family got killed, we see nobody. Everyone is so scared.”
She lowered her voice. “Some people say that the reason that black man was killed was that he took advantage of a white woman back east. That’s why those Klansmen came here.”
Beth blanched and turned, assuring herself that Lily was still looking at fabric samples on the other side of the store and was out of earshot. Beth did not want her sister to hear of such a story, for Lily was a bigger gossip even than their mother. She returned to the storekeeper’s wife.
“Mrs. Zimmerman, I never heard any such thing. Who said that about Mr. Washington?”
“Umm, I overheard one of Mr. Denny’s men—Thorpe, I think it was—say that,” the woman admitted.
Beth grew angry as she recalled the confrontation at the cemetery. Thorpe was the leader of the men who tried to stop the funeral. “I wouldn’t put too much stock in what Mr. Thorpe has to say. The Washingtons were members of our church, remember, and no one had a bad word to say about them.”
“True.” The woman was abashed. “They always paid cash— never asked for credit. And they were always respectful to me. Maybe Washington was confused with someone else? Yes, that must be what happened. Slaves all look the same to me and, I guess, to most folks. Oh, it’s awful, just awful! Those poor people. I can’t stop thinking about that poor little boy.”
Beth was both touched and frustrated with Mrs. Zimmerman. It seemed the woman was casting about for any explanation of the tragedy that would prove it was done by outsiders. The alternative was apparently too frightening for her to contemplate.
The alternative had occupied Beth’s mind since the funeral. The actions of the B&R hands like Denny, Thorpe, and Wilkerson—all members of Denny’s gang—seemed to point to a very frightening conclusion. Denny and his people seemed capable of perpetrating the outrage; they had been members of Quantrill’s infamous Raiders after all. The last few weeks had challenged Beth’s deeply held beliefs about the war, but her opinion of bushwhackers had been justified by unimpeachable sources: Confederate veterans like William and Fitz were disgusted by bushwhackers and disavowed their actions. She felt safe to mistrust Denny.
This led her thoughts to George Whitehead. Beth could not shake the nagging feeling that it wasn’t a matter of whether George was involved in the killings of the Washingtons, but how much. Casting her eyes on Mrs. Zimmerman, she assumed the same thoughts had occurred to her.
Just then, the front door bell rang, the woman before her blanched, and Beth’s conjectures were proven correct.
“George!” cried Lily.
Beth turned to see George Whitehead close the door. With unclouded eyes, Beth could now see things in him that she had missed before. George was undeniably a good-looking man, but there was a hardness in his eyes that his smile could never completely hide. His confident walk was more like an arrogant swagger. He had nothing good to say about anyone who was not of use to him, and he demanded deference from others through fear.
Will Darcy didn’t do that, Beth realized. William earned the admiration of others by his deeds.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” Whitehead said, tipping his hat. “Doing some shopping, I see?”
Lily answered him. “Yes, Father sent us to pick up some supplies. It’s been so boring lately! Father won’t let us go anywhere. Maybe you could talk to him?”
“Lily,” Beth calmly admonished her. “I’m sure George is far too busy for such a silly request. With things being as they are in town,” she turned to Whitehead as she spoke, “Father is only being properly cautious in seeing we’re fully protected.”
“Very wise of him,” Whitehead drawled.
Beth continued. “It’s uncomfortable to work a field with a gun belt on, but such are the days we’re living in now.” For some reason, Beth felt she had to give Whitehead the gentle warning. The slight narrowing of his eyes showed that the message was received.
Lily then called Whitehead’s attention to a piece of lace she had been admiring. This gave Beth the opportunity to watch Mrs. Zimmerman again. She quickly learned that her initial estimation of the woman was wrong. By the mixture of fear and suspicion in her eye, it was apparent that Mrs. Zimmerman was not ignorant of the possibility that the Washingtons were attacked by one of their own. The shopkeeper’s wife was terrified. When Mr. Zimmerman joined them a moment later, his pale, nervous expression showed that he was in full agreement with his spouse’s fears.
“Good… good afternoon, Mr. Whitehead,” Zimmerman was able to manage. “Umm… what can I do for you?”
“Nothing, Zimmerman, just stopped on by to see how things were.” Whitehead seemed amused by the shakiness in the proprietor’s voice. Beth noticed his enjoyment of the Zimmermans’ fear with a sinking feeling. Now, with complete certainty, she knew George Whitehead was an evil man. She wanted nothing more than to be out of his presence.
“Do you have our order, sir?” Beth asked Zimmerman. Beth settled the bill and called Lily over to help. Despite Beth’s protests, Whitehead insisted on carrying the packages to their wagon. Back up on the seat, the two Bennet girls took their leave of Whitehead.
“Won’t you come over for dinner soon, George?” Lily begged.
“Well, I’ve been pretty busy lately,” George begged off, “but who knows? I might find the time to come by the place when you least expect me.” He grinned in that lopsided way of his, his eyes still cold, and Beth felt a shot of fear course through her. Whitehead tipped his hat and reentered the store.
As Beth took a moment to settle her emotions, Lily took the opportunity to gaze about the town. “Beth, look!” she hissed.
At Younge’s Saloon, three young women, dressed in the usual style of dancehall girls, were on the balcony waving at a couple of cowboys riding away. Their raucous laughter could easily be heard.
“What pretty dresses!” Lily cried. “Wouldn’t you love to have one of those?”
“Lily! Be quiet!” Beth turned the team away from the barroom and urged them along the road home. “Don’t be a simpleton! You know what those sinful girls do for a living. They’re fallen women!”
“I know that! I know they’re whores,” Lily lightly responded.
“Lily—your language!”
“Sorry. I know those… women are going to the nether region. I do listen in church, you know.” At Beth’s questioning look, she added, “Well, most of the time. I only like the dresses. I’d love to own pretty dresses, one for each day, and do nothing but sit around telling other people what to do. Like Miss Gaby or Miss Anne.” Lily waved her hands. “‘Smith, fetch me some tea!’”
Beth laughed. “Yes, I can just see you. You were made to be a lady of leisure.”
Lily tossed her head. “Don’t laugh! I’m sure I am. It would be just the thing. Oh, what a life! Better than what we have now.”
“Father’s worked very hard to provide for us, you ungrateful creature!”
“Oh, I know, but he’s not the only one who works! Chores, chores, chores. I hate it! We work all day until we’re too tired to do anything else at night but go to bed. Day after day. Feed the chickens. Milk the cow. Churn the butter. I hate churning butter!”
“And you’re so uncommonly good at it.” Beth couldn’t resist. Lily did have the most adorable pout on her face, after all.
“You always say that! Pooh!”
Beth reached over and took Lily’s hand. “Maybe I do. Still, you have to admit our life isn’t so bad. We have food on the table and a warm bed to sleep in every night.” Beth lowered her voice. “Many can’t say the same.”
Lily nodded. “You’re right.” She thought for a moment. “Do you want to ride once we get home? We can practice jumping rails with Buster and Turner again. That’s so much fun!”
“I’d love to, but you know what Father said. It’s too dangerous.”
“Maybe just around the farm? If you ask Father, I’m sure he’d let us.”
Beth thought. “All right, I’ll ask.” She held up a hand at Lily’s squeal of joy, trying not to smile at her sister’s youthful exuberance. “I’ll ask, but it’s up to Father. We’ll be good and accept his decision, all right, sister dear?”
Lily sighed in agreement and then grinned, as she changed the subject back to their original conversation. “Tell me the truth. Wouldn’t you like to live like Miss Darcy? You’ve seen her house. I’ll bet it’s grand, and she has servants everywhere.” Lily bounced on the wagon seat. “Wouldn’t you just love to live in a place like Pemberley?”
Beth nearly choked as she blushed. Lily, you have no idea!
Lily continued. “If I ever get the chance to live like that, I would—oh!”
Beth was surprised at Lily’s outburst, and turned to see what had caused it. Standing outside the Rosings Bank was Kid Denny and a member of his gang—new, shiny badges of authority from Judge Phillips hanging on their shirts. That was disconcerting enough; what made it worse was that Denny was staring at them, an unreadable expression on his face.
No—he wasn’t staring at them. His eyes were locked on Lily. Beth shivered and moved slightly closer to her youngest sister, trying to shield her from his gaze.
“Beth?” asked Lily in a low, frightened voice, one that had lost all good humor. “Can we go home now?”
Beth turned to see that Lily was just as affected by Denny as she. Beth nodded. “Don’t be afraid. We’ll be home soon.”
“I’m not afraid,” Lily protested. “I… I just want to go riding with you, that’s all.”
Beth was not fooled by Lily’s statement, but chose not to challenge her. “Of course, love. Hang on.” Determined to protect her beloved sister, Beth’s lips drew into a firm line as she prodded the horses to move faster.
As the days of September passed, the only sign that fall was approaching was that the days were growing shorter. It was still hot, and the dry season was upon them. That meant dove hunting in Texas, and Pemberley was always a dependable roosting area.
Early on this particular day, a hunting party of Will Darcy, Richard Fitzwilliam, and Charles Bingley worked a field near a wooded area about three miles from the main house. All three carried double-barreled shotguns, but had neither beaters nor dogs. Will did not own any hunting dogs, and he would not use his employees to scare up game. Still the sport had been productive and each man had bagged his share.
“You’re a fair shot, for a doctor,” Fitz observed as the three took their ease, sharing a flask with their lunches.
“Not as good as you,” Charles said. “Did you miss any? I would swear you didn’t.”
“If you think that was good, you should see Fitz with a rifle,” Will grinned. “I’ll bet if we made him use a Winchester instead of a shotgun, he’d still bag as many birds.”
“Naw, you don’t want to do that,” Fitz drawled. “Wouldn’t leave much o’ the bird left to eat, an’ then Miz Reynolds would have my hide.”
“You scared of Will’s cook?”
“Nope. Scared she’d quit him, and then the other hands will get sore and come after me!”
Will laughed. “You’re right about that. Mrs. Reynolds has a lot of friends in the bunkhouse.”
The men continued talking until Fitz suddenly stood up. “Hear that?”
“What?” Darcy started, before he did hear, faintly.
“Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy!” came from a distance away.
“Sounds like Peter,” Fitz judged.
Will nodded, got to his feet while pulling his Colt, and fired three rounds in the air. Alerted by the sound, the Pemberley rider found them in short order. Darcy was surprised at Peter’s companion—a very distraught Beth.
“Mr. Darcy,” Peter called as they came to a halt. “Miss Bennet here needs to talk to Doc Bingley.”
“Good God, what’s the matter?” Darcy exclaimed as he half-ran to Turner. Beth’s face was dirty, as dust clung to the tears she had undoubtedly shed earlier. He took the paint’s reins and held up a hand to help Beth dismount. Charles was right on Darcy’s heels.
Beth allowed Will to help her down before saying, “Charles, you have to come home, please—”
Bingley turned white. “Jane? Susan? My God, has anything happened?”
“No, no!” Beth cried in a mixture of grief and frustration. “They’re fine! It’s Lily! She’s gone—missing! We think she’s run away!”
Will had not released Beth’s hand and his grip tightened. “Are you sure?”
“Yes—no—we don’t know! She’s just gone! She went to bed last night, but she wasn’t there this morning! We’ve been looking all over for her!”
“Come sit down, Beth. Do you need anything? Some water? We’ve got water. Or maybe something stronger?”
“No, nothing please. Just let me catch my breath.”
“You know anything?” Fitz asked Peter.
“No. Miss Bennet come ridin’ up to Pemberley, wantin’ to talk to the doc. She said there was a family emergency. Miss Gaby told me to find y’all, an’ Miss Bennet insisted on comin’ along. Don’t know about any missing girl.”
Will sat down next to Beth and took her hands in his. “What’s been done to find Lily?”
Beth stared into Will’s caring eyes. “Father and I rode to town to get Charles. Jane said he was here, so I went on to get him. Father’s gone to Sheriff Lucas.”
“Has there been any sign of her?”
“No. No note. Just that one of our horses is missing. It was Lily’s horse.”
“Has Lily said anything about meeting somebody? Was she sweet on some fellow?”
“No. There’s been no one.”
“All right. Do you need anything right now?”
She shook her head. “No. I have to get back to Charles’s place—Father will be waiting for me there.”
“Then, I won’t detain you.” Will stood up and began barking orders. “All right. Fitz, I want you to ride back to Pemberley and begin assembling a search team. Saddle up anyone we can spare. Make sure they’re armed. We don’t know what’s happened to Lily, if she’s been kidnapped or not.”
“Will, she took her own horse,” Fitz pointed out.
“I heard that, and maybe she did ride out to meet somebody, and maybe she changed her mind. It’s happened before,” Will shot back. “We’re not taking any chances, all right?”
Fitz got the allusion to Gaby and nodded.
“Peter, ride out and tell the wranglers to keep an eye out for a girl on a… what kind of horse was that, Beth?”
“Buster is brown, with a white flash on the chest.”
“Got that description? Good. Fitz, when you get your team assembled, meet me at the Bingleys.”
Beth stared at him. “You’re coming with us?”
“Yep. Fitz, you better take my birds with you to the house. Everyone clear on what to do? Good. Let’s ride.”
Directly upon reaching the Bingleys’, Darcy set up a command post. He commandeered the Bingley dining room table, spreading a map of the county upon it. When Fitz arrived with a dozen men from Pemberley, Darcy assembled them into two-man teams and assigned them various locations to search. Beth was impressed by his quick command of the situation, and she was pleased with the easy respect his men held for their employer.
She was not the only witness—besides the Bingleys, Mr. Bennet was in attendance, having come to his son-in-law’s house after talking to both the sheriff and Judge Phillips. Bennet wanted to join in the search, but Darcy talked him out of it, pointing out that he could most help the effort by reflecting on his daughter and trying to divine where she might have gone.
Fitz and the Pemberley riders spread out all over the north bank of the Long Branch. Denny and his men, called in by Phillips, preferred to look for the wayward girl en masse. Thirty men rode all over the B&R until sundown without success.
As the disappointed and worried Bennets prepared to go home for the night, William approached them. “Sir, I’ll have my men out at first light. We won’t rest ’til we find her.” Will was talking to Mr. Bennet, but Beth thought his words were for her, too.
“I thank you kindly,” said an exhausted Mr. Bennet. “Whatever you can do, however long you can help, well… you’ve got my thanks.”
“No thanks necessary.” He paused, and Beth thought he was going to say more, but besides a quick glance at her, he fell silent. He nodded as the father and daughter mounted their horses for the ride back to the farm. Beth wasn’t surprised that they were escorted by two Pemberley wranglers, but her father was. Bennet first greeted his waiting family and gave them the disappointing news of their failure. After Mrs. Bennet, Mary, and Kathy returned to the house and the escort left, the farmer questioned Beth as they attended to their animals in the barn.
“I’m very thankful that Mr. Darcy is showing a great deal of interest in our family, Beth,” he said as he unsaddled his horse, “but, it’s surprising, given his lack of dealings between us. Or maybe not so much of a lack of dealings as I believe?” He turned to his daughter. “Beth, is there something you want to tell me?”
Beth hoped the darkness hid the blush she was certain was covering her face. “Will Darcy’s a good man, Father—better than we’ve been given reason to think. But I wouldn’t read too much into it. I’m sure he’d do the same for anybody. Look what he did for the Washingtons—he bought their burial plots, you know.”
“Yes,” Bennet said. To Beth he sounded strangely disappointed. “Well, let’s pray for better news tomorrow.”
Unfortunately, the news was not what they had hoped. Lily’s horse was found grazing on B&R land between town and the Bennet farm. There was no sign of its rider.