The Chisholm Trail Bride, page 13
“Apoplectic episode of some kind is what the doctor thinks. He’s supposed to get better.” Mr. Brady’s gaze collided with hers. “Was it always the plan to have Red drive you out to the far side of the ranch and then leave him there to run off with this man, or did that just evolve in the moment?”
“Do not answer him,” Ben snapped, pounding his fist on the table.
Eliza gasped and several diners looked over in their direction. A waiter came running. “Is there a problem, Mr. Barnhart?”
“I think our guest was just leaving,” he said. “The only problem will be if he doesn’t.”
“Then there won’t be a problem.” Mr. Brady pushed back from the table and stood. “You can always go home, Miss Gentry.”
“That’s Mrs. Barnhart, isn’t it, dear?”
She looked up into those kind green eyes—those familiar eyes—and she knew she couldn’t fool him. Yet she tried.
“As of this morning, yes.”
Ben’s triumphant expression lasted until the security detective had disappeared out into the lobby. Only then did he wipe the smile off his face.
“Excellent performance, Eliza.” He reached over to take her hand and then lifted it to his lips. “Anyone who was watching would see how very much in love we are.”
Her stomach turned a flip but she kept her smile in place. “Who is watching, Ben? Have you figured it out?”
“Not yet, but my men are on it. The only way I was able to negotiate on your behalf was to convince them I was your husband,” he reminded her. “If your father had agreed to their demands, you wouldn’t have been the next one kidnapped and we wouldn’t be sitting here now.”
“That doesn’t sound like something Papa would do, Ben. I’m not sure I believe it. He loves us so. Why would he possibly jeopardize the life of the son who is named after him? It just makes no sense.”
Ben released her hand and shifted positions. “Darling, I can’t speak for what your father would do. I can only tell you what I was told he has done.”
“I suppose so.” She offered him a smile. “I don’t know how your men managed to stop the kidnapping, but I am grateful.”
“As am I.” Ben squeezed her hand. “I cannot imagine a world without you in it, my love.”
“How long will we have to pretend?” she asked.
“As long as it takes,” was Ben’s cryptic response. “Now, I have some things to attend to. I’ve arranged a suite for you next to mine. There’s a door between them so you can easily find me if you need me.”
“Why would I do that?”
He chuckled. “All right. Well then, there’s a door between our suites, and that ought to convince anyone who wonders why a newly married husband and wife would have separate rooms.”
Eliza relaxed a notch. “As long as it is only the kidnappers we are trying to convince. I would be horrified if anyone actually thought we were married.”
His expression fell. “I’m going to try not to take offense, Eliza. Would being married to me be the worst thing in the world?”
“No, of course not,” she said. “The worst thing in the world would be to lose my brother. I would do anything to save him.”
Ben’s smile returned. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
Even on a swift horse, the ride back to the Gentry ranch seemed far too slow. When he finally arrived, Wyatt found the ranch swarming with activity. The sheriff had come and gone, leaving a man behind just in case.
Wyatt made his way through the gamut of cowboys and lawmen who milled around on the lawn. “You there,” someone called, and he saw it was Red.
The older man waved him over, and though he wanted desperately to speak with William Gentry, he honored the ranch foreman’s wish and detoured to the porch adjacent to the bunkhouse.
Red was seated in a rocker that had obviously been brought over from the main house. A bowl of soup sat beside him, and coffee steamed in one of Mrs. Gentry’s fine china cups.
“What’s the news on Miss Eliza?” he asked, his eyes alert but his voice slow and measured. “And stop staring to try and figure out what kind of palsy I’ve ended up with. Doc says other than the fact I might not be able to smile even and the ladies will think my left eye is winking at them, I’ll be just fine.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I just came from speaking with Eliza.” At the older man’s surprised expression, he continued. “She’s alive and well, and when I left them she was having breakfast with Ben Barnhart at the Driskill Hotel.”
Red looked away and muttered a string of words that he never would have said in front of a female. Then he looked back at Wyatt.
“Did he take her?” Wyatt asked.
“His wasn’t the voice I heard. That belonged to someone else. Doesn’t mean he wasn’t behind it though.” He paused, his expression pained. “If I could’ve just stopped them. I was there, but—”
“Don’t, Red. It couldn’t be helped.”
“I heard that man tell Eliza it was good I’d died of natural causes because otherwise he was going to have to shoot me.” He looked up at Wyatt. “I’d have shot him first if I’d had the chance.”
“Wasn’t supposed to happen that way.” Wyatt nodded toward the ranch house. “Have you spoken to the boss?”
“Not since I finally convinced the doc to quit pestering me and go home.” He shifted positions. “Don’t plan to until that circus over there goes home. Will has his hands full already. He don’t need me underfoot. Go on and tell him what you know.”
With a nod, he bid Red goodbye and headed for the ranch house. The sheriff’s deputy met him at the door and refused to allow him inside.
“He will want to see me,” Wyatt told him.
The deputy returned a few minutes later and motioned for Wyatt to follow. He found Eliza’s parents in the parlor with Justine. Mrs. Gentry rose but remained in place as her husband stalked over to Wyatt.
The girl ran across the room to launch herself into his arms. “Did you bring Eliza back?” she asked, her eyes wide beneath the brim of a straw hat that was meant for a much older person. “I miss her terribly.”
“No, Justine, I’m afraid I didn’t.”
The child slid down and ran back to her aunt. Then she buried her face in Mrs. Gentry’s skirt and began to wail.
“You have news.” A statement, not a question, from William Gentry.
“I have.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Excuse us, dear.”
Wyatt followed the rancher into his office and waited once again until the door was closed and the older man was seated behind his desk. “Did you find her?”
With anyone else, he might have given a gentle answer, but Wyatt knew this man too well to do that. “She’s with Ben Barnhart at the Driskill Hotel. They were having breakfast when I left.”
The color in his face drained. “Barnhart wanted to be sure he was seen with her.”
“They claim to be married, sir.”
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, dropping his hands into his lap. After a few minutes he opened his eyes again. “Do you believe them?”
“I haven’t decided.”
He swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Did she look happy?”
Wyatt had to think about it. “Not particularly. But that might have been due to the circumstances. She did run off. That has to make a person a little bit nervous. She was relieved that Red wasn’t dead.”
Mr. Gentry let out a long breath. “How did this happen?”
Wyatt shifted positions and studied his hands. Finally, he looked up. “I’ve tried to piece it all together, and I don’t know yet. It just doesn’t add up.”
“No, it doesn’t.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how I will tell her mother.”
“Why don’t you hold off on that, sir? Keep her home and don’t let anyone come to the ranch who might pass on gossip.” He shrugged. “I have a feeling all the facts will come out if given time.”
A knock at the door interrupted any response. The same deputy who had escorted Wyatt in walked over to Mr. Gentry and whispered something.
“Put a hat on him and hide his face as best you can. I’ll speak with him out there.” He gestured out the window to a table and chairs on the back porch. “Whatever you do, do not let my wife know he is here.”
Once the deputy was gone, Mr. Gentry turned to Wyatt. “My men intercepted Ben Barnhart at the gate. He wants to see me.”
“And you’re meeting him outside there,” Wyatt supplied as he looked over the situation.
The window was flanked by curtains that were currently open to allow sunlight in but could be closed. The windowpanes were thick, but the sash could be raised to allow anyone in the office to hear what was happening on the other side clearly.
“I’ll expect you to be listening,” Mr. Gentry said. “Now tell me how I need to handle this and what you think I need to ask him.”
“What is it you want from him?” he asked out of habit.
“I don’t want a thing from him except my daughter,” he snapped. “I just want Eliza home again.”
“You understand they very well may be married,” Wyatt said carefully. “How will you handle that if it’s true?”
The older man’s expression went cold. “I will always love my daughter, but if she has chosen a Barnhart over this family, then I don’t know how I will forgive her.” He paused. “Or if I can.”
“Are you sure about that, sir?”
He shook his head. “You were there, son. You know the kind of man Ben Barnhart is. He killed your father, and you yourself said he’s very likely involved with counterfeiters and who knows what else. Would you have me welcome him into my family?”
Wyatt took a deep breath and set aside all the reasons he agreed with William Gentry to offer a word of warning. “She is your daughter, sir. Your flesh and blood. What if she realizes she has made a mistake and wants to come home?”
He looked over at the map of the Chisholm Trail. “Sometimes living with your mistakes is the best way to learn. Now what else do I need to make sure I say or do?”
By the time Wyatt had finished briefing Eliza’s father, the deputy had returned. “They’re bringing Barnhart around to the back so the missus doesn’t catch sight of him. Want me to have someone keep an eye on him while he’s with you?”
“I want to speak with him privately,” he told the deputy, “but it wouldn’t hurt to have eyes on Barnhart from a distance. If you’d do that yourself, I’d be much obliged.”
The deputy nodded. “I will, sir.”
Once the lawman had departed, William Gentry walked over to the window and opened it, then focused his attention on Wyatt. A look passed between them. No words of instruction were necessary. He knew what to do.
Eliza’s father stepped around the desk to walk toward the door. Then he stopped short and turned around.
“Something wrong?” Wyatt asked.
Mr. Gentry pressed past him to return to his desk and leave his pistol there. A look passed between them. Then Eliza’s father shook his head and walked toward the door.
Wyatt closed the curtains and took his place on the floor behind the desk. Even if a stiff wind blew through and lifted them out of place, there would be no evidence he was there.
The office door opened, and Wyatt held his breath. No one was supposed to come in here without the boss. That was an unbreakable rule in the Gentry house.
He palmed his pistol and waited for the intruder to show himself. Light steps moved toward the desk and halted.
A moment later Justine peered around the edge of the desk. Though she’d been dressed like a normal nine-year-old when he saw her in the parlor earlier, now she wore a pale green ball gown several sizes too large that was very likely borrowed from Mrs. Gentry or Eliza. White gloves covered her hands, and a bridal veil tucked into her ponytail completed the ensemble.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered.
“I could ask you the same thing.” He slid out of his hiding place and stood. Turning the girl around, he marched her to the door. “You are not supposed to be in here when Mr. Gentry isn’t here.”
She halted just before the hallway and looked up at him with a suspicious expression. “Neither are you.”
“That is where you’re wrong. He asked me to wait for him here while he had a meeting.”
Her expression went solemn. “I know. He’s meeting the man Eliza married. I don’t like him.”
“That seems to be a popular opinion around here.”
She shrugged. “I told Trey not to trust him with that necklace. I bet he stole it.”
“What necklace?”
Justine gestured to her neck. “The one Trey always wore since he was young. I heard them talking the night before Trey went off on that ship to sail to China for a year. He said he didn’t want anything to happen to his prize possession so Ben ought to give it to Eliza for him.”
Wyatt glanced back at the window to be sure no one had arrived on the porch yet and then turned back to Justine. “Why didn’t he just give it directly to Eliza?”
“He tried, but she wouldn’t take it. She said he had to keep it because then every time he wore it he would think about home and family and he wouldn’t want to stay gone too long. I asked her where it was the next time I thought about it, but she said Trey was wearing it. We argued about that, and she didn’t believe me.”
It made no sense that Ben Barnhart would want a basically worthless shark’s tooth that Trey had been wearing since he was ten. “If Eliza didn’t believe you, why should I?”
Justine didn’t look the least bit bothered by the question. “Because it happened and I heard it. After Eliza and I went up to bed, I heard Trey talking to that man outside on the porch. That’s what they said.”
Who knew what Ben might be doing with Trey’s necklace? Probably nothing, but with a Barnhart one never knew.
Wyatt mentally filed away the information for future use. He’d learned that any given random fact could potentially be what broke a case wide open.
“Thank you for telling me this, but you must leave now.” He moved her out into the hallway. “I have to wait for your uncle, and you probably should put that ball gown and veil back where you found them before Mrs. Gentry sees them.” He paused for effect. “They’re her favorites.”
Justine’s eyes widened. “Are they? I didn’t think she would notice.”
He glanced past her, then looked down at the girl again. “Oh, trust me. She will notice. Now scoot.”
She took off running, holding the dress up with one hand and her veil with the other. This time when the door shut, Wyatt made sure to turn the key and lock it. He barely made it back to his listening post before he heard several sets of boots scuffling across the wood planks of the porch.
“Thank you, Deputy. I’ll signal when it’s time for you to escort him off the property,” Mr. Gentry said.
One set of boots walked away and left the porch, followed by the sound of chair legs scraping over wood. Finally, there was silence.
The wind lifted the edge of the curtain, revealing a slice of blue sky off in the distance. Wyatt shrank farther down out of the way and waited for the men to begin speaking.
“Before you say anything,” Eliza’s father began, “I want you to know that the deputy over there believes you’re not worth the bullet it would take to shoot you, but I told him I’d look the other way if he changed his mind.”
Ben’s chuckle finally split the silence that followed. “You’re good at looking the other way, aren’t you, old man?”
A scrape of boots, a soft thud, and then the sound of a chair turning over followed. Ben laughed again, but this time his laughter held no humor.
“I don’t suppose your deputy friend would admit to seeing you punch me just now.”
Another scrape of boots and William Gentry was presumably back in his chair. “Frankly, I don’t care if he does or he doesn’t. And you can go ahead and brag to whoever you’d like that Eliza’s pa gave you that black eye.”
“I’ll mention that to your daughter when I get back to the hotel.”
Silence fell between them.
“Look,” Ben finally said. “I didn’t expect you’d be happy to see me, so I won’t hold that punch against you.”
A chair squeaked, and Wyatt assumed the older man was shifting positions. “I don’t care if you do. Did my daughter send you?”
“She has no idea I’m here.” Ben paused. “Although she will probably figure out where I’ve been when she sees me.”
“Oh, come on, Barnhart. I can’t be the only man who wants to punch you. Just get on with whatever brings you here so you can leave again. I only have so much tolerance for sitting here being civil.”
“I could argue civility with you, sir, but I won’t.” The sound of paper rustling drifted toward Wyatt on the breeze. “I’ll just leave you with a look at this.”
“What is it?”
“The license authorizing my marriage to your daughter.”
For a moment, silence fell between the men on the porch. Wyatt shifted positions and waited.
“It’s legal,” Ben added.
“Why’d you do this?” William Gentry asked, his voice rough. “I let you get away with murder when you were just a boy, and this is how you repay that? You steal my daughter away in the middle of the night and would’ve killed Red if the good Lord hadn’t seen fit to make it look like he was already gone.”
“Don’t you see, old man? That’s exactly why I had to marry her.”
“I don’t follow.”
“You weren’t there when Creed was shot. You didn’t see me pull the trigger, and yet you think you let me get away with murder. How do you know it wasn’t Wyatt? His pa beat him all the time when he was drinking, and everybody in camp saw he was drinking that night.”
“Because Wyatt Creed didn’t do it. If he was going to kill W. C. Creed, he would have done it long before that night, and he sure wouldn’t have done it on a trail ride with a dozen and a half others nearby. You, on the other hand, were and always have been possessed of a shortage of temper and good sense.”
