Riding in the moonlight at the head of his army towards the Bennet place, a very angry George Whitehead wondered how everything could have gone so wrong so fast.
Whitehead had taken Collins and Denny to Fort Worth for a sort of victory celebration. The railroad was about ready to start buying up the useless bottomland he had stolen from Mrs. Burroughs. Everything had been in place. The riches from the railroad would allow him to turn his twenty-five thousand into his own political kingdom. Soon, either Miss Gaby or Miss Anne would be Mrs. Whitehead, and with them came half the county. With land and army, he would conquer the rest. After that—who knew? The governor’s house in Austin? A senator’s seat in Washington, D.C.? All things were possible.
Whitehead’s first clue that things might not be going exactly to plan was when his spy, Elton, told him that Darcy was one of the investors in the railroad. Elton assured him that the rancher was unaware that anyone else in Rosings knew of the project, but Whitehead was uneasy with this turn of circumstance. He chewed over this intelligence during the ride back to Rosings, wondering if adjustments to the plan might be necessary. However, upon his arrival in town he discovered that Darcy knowing of the railroad was the least of his worries.
All of George Whitehead’s dreams were threatened by a whore named Lily.
Whitehead cursed under his breath. I knew I should have sent that slut back to her father’s place when she showed up at the back door. I knew it! But she was so young, so ripe, so eager. Dammit!
Whitehead stole a glance at Denny riding beside him. The damned fool was infatuated with Lily and demanded her in lieu of the hundreds Whitehead had promised. A bigger fool, Whitehead had agreed to the trade. He should have known better. Had his own bitter and unforgiving mother not shown him that there was no fury like a scorned woman? He should have had the girl killed.
Now everything Whitehead had built—everything that he had planned, dreamed, and killed for—teetered on the edge of the abyss. There was only one thing to do. What he could not win by guile he would take by the gun.
Two by two the riders moved along the trail leading from the main road to the house. Soon the party had formed a semicircle before the dark building, Denny in the middle and Whitehead over to his right. At the end was Billy Collins. Whitehead had insisted his pet bank manager accompany him on this bloody mission. He could not afford to lose any allies now, and after a few minutes’ work, Collins would be tied to him once and for all, being as guilty of murder as the rest.
Kid Denny rose in his saddle. “Bennet! Tom Bennet! This is Denny! Come out, Bennet! I’ve got an order of foreclosure, an’ I means to enforce it! Come out, Bennet, or we’ll come in after you!”
The gang sat in the moonlight before the house, fingering their guns. They saw no light. The only sign of life was a light smoke rising from the chimney.
Then the front door opened a crack. “Well, hello there, Denny! A bit early for visiting, ain’t it?” Mr. Bennet’s sardonic voice came from inside the darkened doorway.
“Come out, Bennet, an’ nobody gets hurt!”
Bennet’s voice was mocking. “Now, why would I believe that, Denny? Why would I leave my house?”
Denny held up a sheet of paper. “I’ve got me a proper order of foreclosure! That ain’t your house no more, Bennet! You’re trespassing, and I’ve got the right to throw you outta there!”
“Is that so? By whose authority, may I ask?”
“Judge Phillips!”
“Well, it’s debatable if that sycophant has enough brains to be an authority on anything, but I’ll leave that argument to my friend, Whitehead. By the way, you wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?”
Denny and Whitehead shared a look before George answered. “I’m right here, Tom! You’d better come on out!”
“George! I’m mightily glad to see that you’re here! What’s all this about a foreclosure? I’m paid up until the fifteenth.”
“I’m sorry, Tom, but Rosings Bank has called the loan! There’s nothing I can do about it tonight! You’d better come on out, or there might be trouble! We’ll try to straighten it out in the morning!”
Bennet’s voice was as teasing as ever. “I’ve a better idea, George. Why don’t you come on inside? I’m sure we can resolve all issues that way.”
Whitehead glanced at Denny. “I can’t do that, Tom!”
“I see.” Bennet’s false cheer had disappeared. “But you can take advantage of a mere child, is that it? Brave war hero that you are.”
Whitehead was not surprised by Bennet’s words; in fact, he was pleased. It told him that Lily had returned home. Denny, however, was not so sanguine.
“She was a ripe jolly piece, Bennet, an’ I might be willin’ to take her back, if’n she gets her ass out here in the next two minutes—her an’ all of you!”
“Go to hell, you son-of-a-bitch!” Bennet cried. “You want her?! Come and get her!”
Before Whitehead could say anything, Denny whipped out his six-shooter and unloaded it at the farmhouse. The rest of the gang joined in, and the house was struck by scores of rounds. For almost a minute the air was filled with gunshots and smoke. No fire was returned from inside the house. As suddenly as the violence started, it stopped, and an unholy quiet descended upon the farm.
Whitehead dismounted, saying to Denny, “All right, go in there and—” when the night was torn with the bark of rifles as the house erupted in light and smoke. Whitehead and his men dove for cover. A couple of horses fell and the rest ran off in terror. Whitehead, prone on the damp ground, pulled out his Colt and returned fire while Collins whimpered in fear. The others were desperately trying to reload.
The firing from the house ceased, and Denny crawled over to Whitehead and Collins, who had taken shelter behind an overturned wheelbarrow. “What the hell’s goin’ on here?” his henchman demanded.
“Hell if I know,” Whitehead shot back. “How are we?”
Pyke joined them. “Wilkerson’s dead! And a couple o’ horses, besides!”
“Shit!” Whitehead peeked out. “Got some company, Tom?!”
“Sure do, George!” the farmer returned. “Why don’t you come on in and meet ’em?!”
“Fuck!” Denny pounded the soft ground with a fist. “Darcy sent some of his men!”
Whitehead nodded, an idea coming to him. “Hello, the house! Look, boys, you’ve surprised us proper, I’ll give you that! But let me tell you, Darcy did you wrong! We’re the law here, and you’re on the wrong side! You’re aiding and abetting and we’ve got the right to kill anyone that stands in the way of enforcing a court order! Come on out now, and we’ll let you go!”
A Spanish-flavored voice responded. “Sorry, señor, but we are comfortable ’ere! If you hombres want to continue living, maybe you should be the ones leaving, I think!”
“That’s that fuckin’ Estrada—Fitzwilliam’s Number Two,” Denny advised.
“Right.” At the house, Whitehead shouted, “Dying’s not a great way of making a living, boys, no matter how much Darcy’s paying you! Just remember, you’re trapped here! We’ve got you outnumbered, and he’s safe back at the ranch! That don’t sound too fair, does it?!”
“We ’ere, you ’ere, everyone gots to be somewhere! I think we stay!”
A trembling Collins gripped Whitehead by the shoulder. “Now what? If this gets out, we’re finished!”
“Shut up, Collins! I have to think!”
Darcy enjoyed the taunting of Whitehead and Denny while he reloaded, but he wasn’t fool enough not to know the situation he was in. With no time to set up a proper ambush, they had no choice but to fall back into the Bennet farmhouse. Darcy had six men with him and Bennet. Two others had gone to hide the wagon in the barn and were holed up there with the farmhand, Hill. José Estrada covered the rear, while the rest were positioned at the windows in the front and sides of the house. Tom Bennet had the front door, while Darcy took the window to the left.
Darcy counted the advantages to his position. One, everyone was armed with Winchesters, and all had plenty of ammo. Two, the full moon helped the defenders more than the attackers. Three, Darcy could count on the skill, dedication, and loyalty of his men. Four, Whitehead had no clear idea who he was dealing with, since Darcy let José do the talking.
In the deficit column, however, was the fact that Whitehead was in control of the fight. He had more men and room to maneuver. He could choose when, how, and where to attack. His people were ruthless and wouldn’t hesitate to kill. And Whitehead was desperate. Meanwhile, Darcy was handicapped by the women and the old man he was sworn to protect, and he had no idea if Hill would hold up. If they became trapped and needed to escape, they would have to shoot their way out.
Darcy would not kid himself—his position was precarious.
His musings were interrupted by a jostling of his boot. Glancing behind him, he was startled to see two large, dark eyes framed by a mass of curly hair.
“Beth! By God, woman, what are you doing out of the root cellar?” Darcy hissed. When the party retreated into the house, the women had been herded into the cellar for their protection.
Her eyes flashed in annoyance as she crawled closer. “We’re trying to help!” she said in a strong whisper as she shoved a rifle into his hands.
“What the—” Darcy looked beyond his beloved. In the dim light of the smoldering fire in the hearth he could make out two more figures crawling from the entrance of the cellar and one other person half-raised, handling a gun.
“Fanny!” Bennet tried to keep his voice down. “What are you doing?”
Mrs. Bennet had no qualms about staying quiet. “Thomas Bennet, I may not know how to shoot a gun, but I certainly can load one! You men keep an eye on those scoundrels out there, and me and my girls will pass you fresh weapons.”
“But… but, dear, you might get shot.”
“Not if we stay low to the floor. Now, hush up, or those evil men will hear you!”
Bennet shrugged and in a mock-serious tone to Darcy claimed, “Get the whip hand over them at once, Will! At once! You see what happens if you don’t?”
Beth grinned and began to crawl back. “Wait!” said Darcy. “Instead of reloading the extra rifles in one spot, split up the ammo—Kathy and Mary to that side, and you and Miz Bennet here. It’ll go faster.”
“Will,” complained Bennet, “don’t encourage them!”
“Sorry, Bennet, but it’s a good idea.” He turned back to Beth. “Just stay down!”
Beth retrieved another rifle. Just as she moved to Ethan by the north window, Whitehead’s people started shooting up the house again. Darcy returned fire, trying to hit the shadows. “Fire at the gun flashes!” he cried.
He noted that the fire seemed heaviest at his side of the house, and he could feel the hair on the back of his neck rise in warning. Denny was a bushwhacker, he remembered. He knows all kinds of tricks.
It was then he heard a cry to his left. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as he turned towards the noise. There was Ethan writhing on the floor, Beth kneeling beside him, and there was a strange orange glow outside the side window.
Fire! his tired mind screamed. They’re trying to burn us out!
Darcy tried to get moving towards the window, but he couldn’t seem to get his legs to move right. As he yelled a warning, Beth reached down and picked up Ethan’s rifle. To Darcy’s horror, she stood up and took aim out the window. Darcy got his feet under him, and a moment later, he slammed into the wall beside Beth just as she fired the Winchester.
“Get down!” he screamed as he took aim. He saw a figure twenty yards away, reaching back to throw a lighted torch at the roof. The gunshot that knocked the man off his feet sounded unnaturally loud, and it was then Darcy realized Beth had fired at the same time as he did.
Beth, her eyes wide, expertly worked the lever, chambering another round. “Did we get them?”
“Don’t know—keep firing!” The two kept a steady rhythm of suppression fire going until the enemy withdrew. As they took cover, Darcy noted that there were two dying torches on the ground—one twenty yards away, another ten yards beyond, each with a dark, still figure nearby.
“Are… are they dead?” asked Beth softly.
“Yeah.” He turned to Beth. “How is Ethan?”
She dropped down to look the man over until her mother arrived a moment later. “I… I think it’s his shoulder. I’m not sure.”
“Get him by the fire!” Mrs. Bennet barked. The three of them dragged the groaning man to the hearth where Mary was waiting. “We’ll take care of this! Get back to the window!”
They returned to their guns, and Darcy turned on Beth. “Just what the hell did you think you were doing?”
“What do you think?” she spat back. “Ethan was shot, and those men were coming. I had to do something!”
Darcy breathed hard, but try as he might, he couldn’t overcome her logic. “Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”
To his surprise, it was Bennet that answered. “I taught all my girls to shoot, Will. You never know what you’ll find in the woods. Beth here is almost as good as her brother was.”
“Better!” she claimed with a smile.
“Boss,” said José from the back, “we’re a man short. You’d better let señorita keep that rifle, I think.”
Darcy didn’t like it, but he had no choice. “All right! But will you do as I say?”
Beth nodded, and Darcy positioned her at the far left window. José took over Ethan’s place, another man took the rear of the house, and Darcy exchanged places with Bennet. If Beth was going to fight, he reasoned, at least she would be surrounded by people who were very good with a gun. Now at the door, Darcy peeked out into the night. The moon was behind the house, and the shadows grew long. Dawn would not be far away.
Darcy grew grim. He knew Whitehead was still out there somewhere. This gambit of his had failed, but there would be others. Whitehead would have to move in soon; with the sunrise, he would lose all cover.
Maybe not, Darcy realized. The house faced due east. With the dawn, the defenders would be staring directly into the sun. For a few minutes they would be blind.
If I know that, Whitehead can figure it out. Denny certainly will.”
Everyone get an extra rifle. The next attack will be better coordinated than the last one. Peter!”
“Yo, boss,” came a voice from Bennet’s study.
“Keep a sharp eye on the barn. They haven’t tried taking it yet. Make sure you cover our people.” Darcy then turned his attention to his casualties. “Miz Bennet, how’s Ethan?”
Fanny’s determined voice had disappeared. “I’ve stopped the bleeding, but he’s lost a lot of blood. We need a doctor!”
“I think we know that, dear,” Bennet wearily stated. He turned to Darcy. “When will they come, son?”
Darcy swallowed. He couldn’t quite make it out, but he thought he saw Beth smile in reaction to her father’s choice of words. “Soon. Probably with the sunrise.” He paused. “You’re a good man with a rifle, sir.”
“Call me Tom, Will. Yeah, I do all right.” He paused and continued in a whisper. “It’s not good, is it?”
Will had to tell the truth. “No, it isn’t.”
“You’ll take care of my family?”
“Tom…”
“Son, don’t pee on my boot and tell me it’s raining. Anything happens to me, you’ll watch over them?”
“Like they were my own.”
“All right, then.” Bennet didn’t say another word but stared out into the darkness.
Pyke was reporting to Whitehead. “We lost three men, including Thorpe.” Collins groaned and held his head in his hands.
“Well, let me tell ya what we oughta do, GW!” Denny then lowered his voice. “We oughta figure out a way of gittin’ this here job done without losin’ any more of my boys. The rest are gittin’ antsy, an’ that ain’t a good thing.”
Collins picked up his head. “I thought you could keep your gang in line!”
“Looky here, ya jackass! Why don’t you carry the next torch up to the house, huh?” Denny pulled his gun. “In fact, why don’t you do it right now, Collins?”
Collins recoiled in terror, and Whitehead held out his hand. “Put that away, Denny, and take it easy.”
Instead of doing as he was told, Denny turned on his employer. “And you can keep your orders to yourself, GW! You better remember who those boys listen to, and it ain’t you!” Eyes wide and breathing hard, Denny waved his pistol between his three companions. “Big words, big promises. You spun me a fancy tale, Whitehead; I was gonna be rich, but so far I ain’t seen nothin’! My boys are lookin’ for gold, and all they’re gittin’ tonight is lead. They’re ’bout ready to break, an’ I’m ’bout ready to join ’em. Ya better come up with a good idea quick, or you’ll find yourself by yourself!”
Whitehead could feel the eyes of Pyke and Collins on him, waiting for him to take control of the situation. The problem was Whitehead was out of ideas. His talent was in strategic planning; the tactics he left to people like Collins and Denny. All he had left was his powers of persuasion. Whitehead had to be careful now with Denny. One wrong word and he could end up dead.
“Denny, I know how you feel. I want what’s coming to me, too. But it’s those people that stand between us and our riches! Railroad money, Denny! Cash on the barrelhead! You heard my friend in Fort Worth. This is for real. But without this farm, the railroad won’t be coming here. I’ll lose everything!
“You’re lucky. This thing falls apart, you’re no worse off than before. Hell, you’ve had it pretty good, haven’t you? Two meals a day, a dry bed at night, liquor, women. Sure, you had to ride some cattle, but it’s better than how it was in Missouri, right?
“But me—I’ve got my whole life riding on this. This blows up, I’m done, and so is Collins here. But we can still win! We can still get everything we’ve ever wanted! But we got to finish the job tonight!”
Whitehead held his breath, wondering if Denny believed him. The gunfighter stared a hole through him and then holstered his gun. “All right—how?”
Whitehead exhaled, knowing he had placated Denny for now. “Look, I got you the railroad. You tell me what to do now. This is your province, bushwhacker.”
Denny rocked back on his heels and thought. “Only way to git them people out is to burn ’em out.”
Pyke groaned. “We tried that!”
“No!” Denny snapped. “Not the right way! What we need here is a wagon, filled with hay. Set that sucker on fire, an’ push it against the side o’ the house. That’ll git ’em! The wagon’ll shield us from their guns, so they can’t stop us. Once that place is burnin’ we just wait ’til they start runnin’ like rabbits. Shoot ’em as they come out the door.”
“But,” Pyke complained, “we ain’t got a wagon.”
Denny pointed towards the barn. “I’ll betcha there’s one in there! We just gotta go git it!”
Whitehead frowned. “There’s got to be people in there. No way they would’ve left it undefended.”
“Right. That’s th’ problem.”
Whitehead sat back for a moment, considering. He glanced around the wheelbarrow at the house again. “What time is it, Collins?”
The banker pulled out his pocket watch. “It’s hard to read… about four.”
“Fuck!” cried Denny. “We’ll be sittin’ ducks after th’ sun comes up.”
“Sunrise in little over an hour…” Whitehead said half to himself. “Denny, would you say that house faced due east?”
Denny looked around. “Sure looks that way. So?”
Whitehead turned to him. “So, the sun will be in their eyes, right?”
Denny thought about it and grinned. “Yeah. They won’t see nothin’.”
“That’s when we make our move—right at sunrise. Half of us will take the barn while the rest will lay down covering fire. Once you secure the wagon, we’ll finish ’em off.”
“That might work,” Denny allowed.
Whitehead laughed. “Of course, it’s going to work! So, let’s get ready. Denny, pick the men you trust to take that barn. Pyke, take a couple of fellows and try to round up what horses you can. I thought I saw mine wandering around over by the chicken coop. Collins, go help him.”
Collins started. “But I don’t like horses!”
“Damn momma’s boy,” grumbled Pyke. “Get your ass up and help me.”
Whitehead watched as the others left to fulfill their duties. As he reloaded his Colt, he began to think again about the finale of his grand scheme, and what he was going to do about an increasingly unstable Kid Denny. He had hired the gunslinger to enforce his will, but Denny’s usefulness was quickly coming to an end. Denny would have to die, he knew, but not just yet. Once this job was done and the Bennet Farm was firmly in hand, there was still the matter of Will Darcy, Richard Fitzwilliam, and Pemberley Ranch.
Whitehead grinned. All that was needed to take care of those two was one little ambush, and that was something at which Denny excelled. Then, nothing would stop George Whitehead. He would get both Pemberley and the B&R. He would be King of Long Branch County.
He glanced at the eastern sky as it slowly began to lighten.
Mrs. Bennet was able to brew a little coffee for the defenders of the homestead, and Beth volunteered to share a mug with William. Bennet just chuckled and kept watch outside as the two lovers enjoyed a moment to themselves.
Darcy sipped the coffee as he sat on the floor with Beth curled up against him, her curly hair soft on his cheek. He handed her the mug, which she accepted thankfully. She returned the cup after having her fill and said in a hesitant voice, “Will… I…”
He quieted her with soothing sounds and stroking of her tresses. “Hush, darlin’—there’s nothing to say.”
“Yes, there is. I love you, Will.”
He kissed the top of her head. “And I love you too, Beth. My one wish is that you, your mother, and your sisters were safely out of here.”
She hugged him tight. “And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
He grinned slightly. “Now, that’s a damn fool thing to say, Miss Bennet.”
She looked him in the eye. “Will Darcy, shut up and kiss me.” Knowing the place and time to be about as inappropriate as it could be, Will and Beth shared a chaste, quick peck on the lips. It still drew a glance of disapproval from Mary.
Bennet didn’t want to steal whatever time the two had left, but there were things Darcy needed to know. “Umm… sun’s starting to come up, Will.”
Instantly, the lovesick Will was replaced by the stern Master of Pemberley. Darcy kissed Beth’s forehead and retrieved his rifle. He crouched low as he stole a peek out the window. “It sure is. Any movement?”
“I haven’t seen anything,” Bennet replied. By now, Beth had returned to her post, Winchester in hand.
José cut in. “I think I saw some hombres moving near the barn, boss.”
“Right.” Darcy had learned over the years to trust his people. If José said he thought he saw something, then Darcy could count on it. “Peter, look alive over there,” he called out softly to his right. “There’s some activity towards the barn.”
“Yes, sir… yeah, people are movin’, Mr. Darcy.” There was the sound of a cocking rifle. “Looks like we’re gonna get busy again.”
Darcy took command. “All right, I figure they’re going to try to take the barn. We’ll probably take some fire as they try to distract us. Look alive. Our boys in the barn are going to need our help. Don’t waste shots—try to make every one count.”
“Boss!” cried José. “Look! Riders comin’ in!”
Darcy looked out, his heart sinking. Sure enough, in the half-light of the dawn, dust was rising from the east. Men on horseback were coming from the main road.
“Any chance those are your people, Will?” asked Bennet.
“No, I’m afraid not,” he admitted. They couldn’t be Pemberley riders. He had been firm with Fitz about that. Fitzwilliam was to command the defense of the ranch, and nobody was to leave until Darcy returned. Those riders could only be reinforcements from the B&R. The odds against those trapped in the farmhouse just got longer.
Bennet sighed. “Didn’t think so.”
Darcy gritted his teeth, for he knew the possibility of them holding out now were practically nil. It had been a long road from Vicksburg, and he didn’t want it to end this way, now that he had found Beth. But there was nothing for it. No retreat, no surrender—he would have to kill or be killed. If this was to be his last stand, it would be a memorable one. He would make those bastards pay.
Darcy sang out, “Look sharp, boys! They’re on the move! You see somebody or something, shoot it! Let’s send those sons-of-bitches to hell!”
A Rebel Yell arose from all those assembled—even the Bennets joined in. Darcy and his people bore down to face the final act of what folks in future times would call the Battle of Thompson Crossing.