The stop at the Bingley place on the outskirts of Rosings was short. Charles had just sat down for breakfast when Darcy and his party arrived. With their assistance, Jane and Charles, along with his medicine bag and their infant daughter, were soon aboard their buggy heading to the Bennet Farm.
The four riders then split up—Darcy and Fitz would approach the sheriff’s office from the street, while the other two covered them from the rear. Darcy waited five minutes to allow his men to get into position, then he and Fitz slowly made their way along the main street. It was early, and the shadows were still long as the pair passed the Whitehead Building. They were cautious, in case Denny left a rear guard. Because their attention was on Whitehead’s place, they didn’t notice the lone figure on the porch of the sheriff’s office until they were almost upon him. Startled, Fitz halfway drew his revolver.
Darcy was the first to speak. “Mornin’, Sheriff.”
Sheriff Lucas was seated, leaning his chair back on the rear legs while resting his boots on a post, hat low over his eyes, whittling at a piece of wood. He glanced up at the greeting before returning his attention to his task, replying, “Mornin’, Mr. Darcy, Fitzwilliam. You boys are up early.” A sliver of wood floated to the porch.
Fitz holstered his weapon, an incredulous expression on his face. Darcy, for his part, was amused as he leaned over the saddle horn. “You too, I see. Had a good night?”
Lucas kept whittling. “Can’t complain.”
Fitz couldn’t restrain himself. “But we heard Denny set some of his men after you.”
Lucas didn’t raise his head. “Yep, he surely did.”
“Then, what happened?” Fitz cried.
Lucas glanced up, a smirk on his face. “He’d best send better boys next time. The two he did are coolin’ their heels in a jail cell, keepin’ Miz Sally company,” he said as he pointed the piece of wood over his shoulder. “Huh! The day I can’t handle two goat ropers like that with my deputies backin’ me up is the day I retire.”
Darcy’s voice was flat. “There won’t be a next time, Sheriff.”
That got Lucas’s attention. “That so?”
“Yes. Gunfight at the Bennet place all night. Just ended. George Whitehead and Kid Denny are dead, along with seven of Denny’s gang. Took the rest prisoner, including Billy Collins. He’s singing like a bird.”
“Damn!” With a bang, Lucas straightened up his chair and stood up. “And how did your people make out?”
“One wounded—Doc Bingley’s seeing to him now.”
Lucas shook his head. “I’ll be damned. Whitehead’s dead? Then it’s all over.”
“No, it ain’t.” Darcy’s face was hard. “One loose thread left.”
Lucas eyed him. “Yeah, I reckon so. You thinkin’ o’ payin’ a visit to Cate?”
Darcy nodded. “This ends today.”
Lucas sighed. “I reckon I’ll best be goin’ with you. You boys had any breakfast? Coffee’s hot, an’ Charlotte’s come in and whipped up some bacon ’n’ eggs.” He turned his head to Fitzwilliam. “She made biscuits.”
Fitz grinned. “That’s mighty neighborly of you, Sheriff. Will?”
Darcy shrugged. “A half-hour won’t make any difference. We’ll be pleased to enjoy your hospitality.” He had noted with satisfaction Fitz’s use of Lucas’s title. Perhaps there’s hope for the two of them, after all. I sure hope so, for Miss Charlotte’s peace of mind.
As the two dismounted, Lucas opened the front door of the office. “I’ll send Smith over to the Bennets’ place to take the prisoners into official custody.” He stopped and turned. “Oh, by the by, you’d best tell whatever riders you sent to come up the back way to make themselves known. I can’t speak for Deputy Jones’s nerves, an’ I don’t want somebody to get hisself shot by accident.”
Fitz’s jaw dropped. “How’d you know about that?”
Lucas snorted. “’Cause that’s what I would’ve done in your place, Fitz, an’ I reckon you ain’t no fool.”
After eating breakfast and enduring Fitz’s flirting with the cook, Darcy climbed aboard his black stallion and rode with the others towards the B&R ranch house. Sheriff Lucas insisted Deputy Jones come with them, and deputized one of Darcy’s men to guard the prisoners in the jail.
The small group rode north out of town along the road beside Rose Creek. At a rise a half-mile from their objective, Darcy signaled for the men to halt.
“All right. This is what we do. Fitz, you and Peter go around and sneak into the ranch house from the kitchen, if you can. Get Anne out of there. You see any trouble, you get out pronto. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sheriff—you, Deputy Jones, and I will go in from the other side.”
“What side’s that, Mr. Darcy?”
“The front door, Sheriff.” He turned to Fitz. “We’ll give you a couple minutes’ head start. Y’all best be going.”
The two men galloped off to the west. Darcy watched them until they disappeared behind a ridge, then signaled to his companions to continue to the house. They took their time, holding their mounts to a trot, carefully taking in their surroundings.
“Notice anything?” asked Darcy in a low voice.
“Yeah,” the lawman answered, “where the hell is everybody?”
The B&R Ranch should have been a hub of noise and effort; instead, it was completely deserted. If it wasn’t for the lowing of the cattle, one could easily believe the place had been abandoned.
“Ah,” breathed Darcy. “Look to the northwest.” There, past the low hills, was a faint cloud of dust.
“Sheriff, it looks like everybody done rode off,” said Deputy Jones.
“Rats abandoning a sinking ship,” observed Lucas. “Think they heard about the gunfight?”
Darcy watched the distant disturbance. “Hmm, maybe. I thought we got everybody, but maybe one of Denny’s gang got away. Hell, it doesn’t matter. Keep a sharp eye out, in case somebody stayed behind.”
The three rode in, stopping before the main house. Tied to a hitching post was Judge Phillips’s buggy. “Well, lookie here,” drawled Lucas as he dismounted. “Seems Cate’s pet judge has come for breakfast. We get two birds with one stone.”
The men dismounted and tied their horses to the hitching post. It was then their good cheer ended—the front door was ajar. Without a word, Darcy, Lucas, and Jones drew their revolvers and slowly made their way up the porch stairs to the door. They moved to either side of the opening, looking at each other.
“I’ll go in…” Lucas began when Darcy cut him off in a low voice.
“No—I’ll go first. I know this house better than either of you. Stay close.”
Taking a deep breath, Darcy moved the door open with the toe of his boot, keeping as much of the rest of his body hidden from sight as he could. When the opening was wide enough, he moved like lightning into the ranch house, crouching low, Colt before him. Darcy stopped some ten feet in, hard against the left wall of the hallway while his companions followed, moving over to the right. Without a word, Darcy signaled for them to move deeper down the hallway slowly.
The three crept along the carpeted hallway, peeking into first the parlor, then the sitting room. It wasn’t until Jones got to the dining room that any sound was made.
“Oh, my God!”
The sheriff and Darcy looked into a scene of horror. The sun shone through the curtains, moving in the morning breeze, the light glowing off the yellow paint of the walls and gleaming hardwood of the table. Unfinished breakfast plates and one overturned coffee cup were on the table. And there was a man slumped over a plate, a dark red substance staining the tablecloth, while the chair at the head of the table had fallen over, partially hiding a woman’s body.
“Cate!” Darcy gasped. Disregarding any danger, he ran to his cousin’s side, knowing all the while he was too late. And he was—Catherine Burroughs had been shot in the torso, her body still warm to the touch.
The sheriff was by the side of the male victim while Jones remained at the doorway. “It’s Judge Phillips,” Lucas said. “He’s dead—shot in the chest.” He looked over. “Miz Burroughs, too?”
“Yes,” Darcy croaked, his emotions a whirl. He had had his disagreements with Catherine, and he couldn’t say he actually liked her, but to see his cousin’s murdered body was a shock. He glanced at her face. Now, only in death, had her dour face relaxed into something other than the hard woman he had known all his life.
Anne! His mind screamed. Darcy stood with a jerk. “They’ve been murdered, and my cousin, Anne, may be next. Come on.”
The three dashed out of the room, heedless of the noise, heading for the stairs. Before Darcy reached the first step, he heard shouting—several voices, Fitz’s among them. A second later, there was the explosion of gunfire. Darcy tried to run as fast as he could, fear almost overwhelming him. Am I too late again?
He turned at the landing to see three men crouched at the head of the stairs. Fitzwilliam! They glanced down at them, guns pointed, before lowering them. Just as Darcy and the others reached them, they stood. Darcy didn’t wait—he pushed through the group and down the upstairs hallway.
He got only two steps before coming to a dead halt. A man lay prone on the floor before what he knew to be Anne’s room. Darcy turned to his foreman, the obvious question on his face.
“Not me,” said Fitz. “The shot came from inside the bedroom. He fell as if someone shot him in the back.”
“Who’s there?” came an uneven female voice from the bedroom.
“Annie! It’s Will! I’m here with help!”
“Will!” the woman screamed. Darcy and the others ran forward, stepping over the body and into the bedroom. There, against the far wall, was a terrified Anne Burroughs. There was another person in the room, or rather, in her closet, a smoking double-barreled shotgun in his trembling hands.
“Bartholomew!” Darcy cried, hands up in the air. “Don’t shoot! It’s me!”
“Mr. Darcy. Oh, thank God! Thank God you’ve come.” The aged butler lowered his weapon as Anne dashed over to support him.
Anne spoke as the two made their way to a chair, Darcy helping them. “He… he was trying to get in… We heard gunshots… We hid. Mother? What happened to Mother? Is Mother all right?”
Darcy struggled to speak, but it wasn’t necessary—his face told all. Anne went white, and Darcy had to hold up his distraught cousin as Bartholomew half-fell into a chair. It would be some moments before Darcy could leave the room. He found the others looking at the dead man, his body showing the results of taking a load of buckshot at close range.
Sheriff Lucas looked around. “You think this is the only intruder?”
“Why don’t you go find out, you old fool?” Fitzwilliam spat.
Darcy sighed. Well, that good feeling didn’t last long. “Why don’t you and the others check out the house, Sheriff? Fitz, you go with him. I’ll stay here with… who is it, Fitz?”
Fitz turned the dead man’s face to the side. “Pyke. It’s Pyke.” Fitz stood and, sharing a relatively friendly look with Lucas, set off down the hallway.
Fifteen minutes later, the group assembled in the study, Darcy taking care that Anne did not look into the dining room. There were signs that the room had been ransacked, but Catherine’s safe was still locked.
“If I had to venture a guess,” Lucas said, “it seems Pyke ki… er, did away with the others before he came in here, lookin’ for money. He must’ve been panicked, seeing how he, umm… did that,” he gestured toward the dining room, “afore he come in here. He didn’t get the combination first. Stupid.”
Darcy grimaced. He knew the oaf was trying not to upset Anne, yet he kept talking anyway.
Anne stopped sobbing into a handkerchief. “We… we heard arguing before two gunshots. That’s what gave Bartholomew time to get a gun and get me in my room. That man… came up after a few minutes, shouting for money, saying I’d be all right if I did as he said. But I didn’t believe him. He broke in the door—Bartholomew was in the closet—I thought that man was going to kill me.”
“I wasn’t hiding,” the butler said in his usual unperturbed manner, now that he had time to compose himself. “I was trying to ‘get the drop on him,’ I think it’s called. Mr. Fitzwilliam’s distraction was most timely.”
Darcy walked over to shake Bartholomew’s hand. “I don’t know how to thank you. You saved Anne’s life for sure.”
A flicker of emotion passed in the butler’s eyes. “Seeing to Miss Anne has always been more than my duty, Mr. Darcy. She’s been, well, like the daughter I’ll never have. I only ask to go with her wherever she lives.”
“I can assure you of that,” Darcy promised him. He then ordered Fitz and the others to prepare a wagon for Anne and Bartholomew. He knew he needed to get them out of the house as soon as possible—and inform the undertaker he had more business ahead.
“My God,” breathed Tom Bennet as he and Darcy shared a drink in the study at the Bennet farm. “What will happen to Miss Anne now?”
Darcy sat in an armchair across from the farmer, Beth seated next to him, holding one of his hands in hers. “I don’t know. We’ve sent her to Pemberley, she and Bartholomew both, and Charles is seeing to her. She’s got a home with me as long as she wants. I don’t know what’s to become of her, except I can’t figure she’d ever want to go back to the B&R.”
“Will Charles be able to do anything for her?” asked Beth.
“I don’t know, sweetheart. I guess he’ll give her something to help her sleep. That’ll help tonight, but tomorrow and afterwards? At least Charles has been able to report that Ethan was out of danger.”
Bennet glanced at Samuel’s photograph, a bullet hole next to it. “Death of a loved one is never easy. If we can help in any way, just call on us.” He took a sip of his whiskey. “I heard there was a run on Rosings Bank.”
Darcy nodded. “Everybody heard about the shootout here and that Collins was involved. The bank’s cash couldn’t make good on the claims and Rosings failed. Sheriff Lucas had to close the place by one in the afternoon, which didn’t make the folks still in line too happy.” He looked at Bennet. “Don’t you worry, Tom. I’ll make good on any money you had in there.”
Bennet put down his glass. “Son, you don’t have to do that. You’ve done so much already.”
Darcy grunted. “Forgive me, but my promise isn’t just for you. I’m going to make good for everybody. You see, Anne was Cate’s only heir, and like I said, she’s got no use for either the B&R or Rosings. We’ll work out a deal—sell land or cattle, pledge future income, something—and use that to settle with everyone.”
“But won’t Miss Anne lose everything?”
Darcy sighed. “She might, but she’s got family back east. We’ll see. As for the landowners that were forced into foreclosure, we’ll try to give them their land back.”
Beth thought about that. “Most of those folks have moved on. How are you going to let them know about their property?”
“We’ll send letters after them, or to their next of kin. If we get no reply after several years, we’ll sell the land and put the money in trust for them or keep the land untouched—a park for the people.”
Bennet eyed his future son-in-law. “You’ve done a bit of thinking about this.”
Darcy shrugged. “Yes, well, I had to do something waiting for the undertaker to show up at the B&R.”
Beth shuddered. “That’s pretty cold, son,” Bennet observed.
“Well, you didn’t hear what I did. Annie’s been talking. A quiet one, that Anne. Apparently she overheard a great deal sneakin’ around the house like she did. Didn’t tell anybody ’til now, ’cause she was afraid she’d lose whatever affection Cate had for her. She was scared Cate would throw her out of the house. Now, I ask you, what kind of mother would instill that much fear in her only child?
“Cate had been up to her eyeballs in Whitehead’s plans. Knew all about the railroad and stealing the land from the homesteaders. ’Course, Cate didn’t have any idea that Whitehead and Collins were double-crossing her. And while she didn’t know what Denny planned for the Washingtons beforehand, Cate wasn’t all that upset over the murders. Know what she said when she heard about the lynching? According to Anne, Cate said, ‘Serves them right—they should have stayed in Louisiana where their kind belongs.’ God forgive me, but it’s kind of hard to grieve over a woman like that.”
Mrs. Bennet walked through the open study door and spoke to the subdued group. “Will, dear, I’ve got some food on. You’re welcome to stay.”
Darcy got to his feet, shaking his head, and Beth got up with him, still holding his hand. “Thank you kindly, Miz Fanny, but I’ve got to get back to Pemberley. I’m sure Gaby’s ready to pitch a fit about now. Besides, I’ve got to see how Anne’s making out.” Darcy received a kiss on the cheek from his future mother-in-law, took his leave of Bennet, and allowed Beth to walk him out of the house to his horse. Before he climbed on his steed, he held Beth close in his arms and the two shared a long, slow kiss.
Will pulled back with a dazed look on his face. “Now, Beth, you keep that up, and I’m not likely to leave.”
Beth smirked. “Is that so, cowboy? Maybe we should do that again.”
Darcy ran his thumbs along her jaw line, sending chills through his fiancée. “Soon, darlin’. Soon we’ll be married, and I won’t have to say goodbye ever again. You will marry me soon, won’t you?”
Beth nodded. “As soon as I learn all that Catholic stuff—all that kneeling and bowing and prayer beads.”
One of Darcy’s eyebrows rose up to his hair line. “Kneeling and bowing and prayer beads? If I didn’t know better, I swear you’ve been talking to Fitz.”
Beth just smiled and kissed him. A moment later, she watched Darcy and Caesar make their way down the lane towards the main road and Pemberley.