Part 43 (1/2)
”Mr. Belton, what are you doing so far from town?” She spoke first, hoping her voice didn't betray her trepidation. ”I thought you would have gone back to Topeka by now.”
”I had intended to, but I wanted to talk with you about buying your farm.”
I don't have any plans to sell.”
”This is an awfully big place for one woman to run alone.” He waved his hand in a half circle, including more land than Fern owned. ”Besides, I heard you're getting married and moving to Boston.”
”I'm not sure about that, either.”
He didn't look like a murderer, or a rapist. He looked like a sober, middle-cla.s.s, hard-working businessman. No one would ever believe he had tried to rape her. And with Troy dead, there was no one to support her accusation. They wouldn't believe he had murdered Troy, either. She had absolutely no proof. Neither did Madison.
But she knew he'd done it. She could feel it.
”If you're not doing anything right now, I'd appreciate your showing me anything you might consider selling.”
Fern started to tell him to come back another day, but what if, in trying to talk her into selling, he followed her home? Rose and her babies lay helpless in the farmhouse. Fern had to get him as far away as possible. The longer she kept him busy, the closer to the time George and Madison would come looking for Rose. And they would come. They would know Rose wouldn't chance such a trip unless there was grave danger.
”What kind of land did you have in mind?” she asked.
”Homesteads for farmers. Ranchers won't pay for grazing land. They use government gra.s.s, then move farther west when things get crowded. But homesteaders will pay well for anything, even marginal farmland. How about the old Connor place?”
Fern didn't want to go to the Connor place. It had too many unpleasant memories and was too far away. However, it was about as far away from Rose as Fern could get and still be on her own land.
She tried to decide if Belton was acting unusualnervous, tense, watchful, furtiveanything that might help her guess how much he knew. But he seemed perfectly normal. She wouldn't have acted any differently if she'd been in his shoes.
She always carried a rifle in her scabbard, but even though Belton wasn't wearing a gun, she couldn't relax. Like Madison, he wore city clothes. She couldn't tell what he might have in his pockets.
Belton kept up a steady conversation as they rode, asking about the soil, water, gra.s.s, the kinds of crops that grew best, all the kinds of questions a land agent would ask. By the time they drew up before the Connor home place, Fern had begun to wonder if Sam Belton even remembered he had tried to rape her eight years ago.
”The house seems to be in pretty good condition,” he said. ”Looks like a family could move in right now.”
”The roof leaks. See for yourself.”
Sam smiled uneasily. ”This isn't going to make you think very well of my courage, but I don't like going into dark places. One never knows what may be lurking in the corner.”
”There's nothing in that soddy,” Fern said, trying not to show her scorn. ”I've been inside a dozen times. Even at night.”
”I'm sure you're right, but would you mind sticking your head inside just to make sure?”
Fern almost snorted in contempt. He may have been a danger to a young girl eight years ago, but she had nothing to fear from him now. He was a coward. Madison hadn't been in Abilene twenty-four hours when he walked into that soddy without a second thought.
But even as she gathered her muscles and s.h.i.+fted her weight preparing to dismount, some instinct warned Fern to stay where she was. Maybe Belton was acting too much like a coward. She couldn't be sure, but as long as she remained in the saddle, she had the advantage of her rifle and a speedy getaway.
”I don't need to look,” she said. ”There's never anything inside.”
”Nevertheless, I think I'll carry a weapon,” Belton said, dismounting with riding crop in hand. ”A small protection but better than nothing.”
Fern remained alert. ”Don't take too long. It's getting late, and it's a long ride back to town.”
Fern could hardly believe her eyes when Belton paused to roll up his pant legs so they wouldn't get dirty. Why had she ever been afraid of him?
”I didn't know you still had buffalo,” Belton said as he stood up.
”We don't. I haven't seen any in years.”
”You've got some now,” Belton said, pointing, ”a whole herd of them.”
Turning her gaze, Fern spied three buffalo lumbering up an incline. ”They probably wandered off from the herds in western Kansas,” she said. ”They”
She never finished her sentence. While she was turned toward the buffalo, Belton gave her pony a vicious jab in the belly with the but of his riding crop. Squealing in pain, the pony bucked, rising high in the air and twisting his body like a whiplash. Fern, caught unaware and turned in the saddle, was thrown off.
Even as she flew through the air, Fern realized what Belton had done. Landing on her hands and knees, she rolled over in the gra.s.s. She scrambled to her feet, but Belton was on her before she could stand up. Fern had never been in a fight, but she'd seen several. Being used to doing a man's work, she felt certain she could overpower him. But the moment Fern felt her arm tense against his, she knew Belton was as strong as an ox. And her weeks out of the saddle had caused her muscles to weaken. In a contest of strength, she would lose.
Feinting to the side, Fern attempted to break away from Belton. Not being on her feet, she was too slow. Belton grabbed her leg and threw her off balance. Fern rolled to one side, scrambling frantically to get her feet under her, but Belton jumped on her back, and both of them went down on the ground.
Then Fern got angry.
This man had already ruined eight years of her life. Now he wanted to kill her and deprive her of the rest. She wouldn't let him.
Calling on all her strength, Fern gathered her hands and knees under her. Then pus.h.i.+ng with all her might, she rolled over, catching Belton between herself and the ground. He gave a satisfying grunt as her weight smashed the air out of his lungs, but his grip remained unbroken.
Using her elbow, Fern jabbed him in the stomach as hard as she could. Before he could recover, she used her weight to knock the air out of him once more. That broke his hold, and Fern scrambled to her feet.
”Only a coward attacks a woman,” Fern said, and drove her fist into his jaw.
Belton collapsed on the ground.
”Now get off my land.”
Fern walked over to her horse and gathered up the reins. Obviously still hurting from Belton's jab, the animal didn't want her to mount him. He danced in a circle around her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Belton come to his knees. She turned in time to see him throw the rock but too late to get out of its way.
They came out of the night like the four hors.e.m.e.n of the Apocalypse, sparks flying from the hooves of their powerful steeds, their faces set in grim resolve, their eyes cold with rage. They did not carry the sword and s.h.i.+eld of conquest, but death rode on their shoulders with vengeance as a companion.
It had been ten years since Madison had ridden with his brothers. Time and fate had conspired to separate them by rivers of life whose turbulence they could not tame, but on this night their differences were forgotten. They rode with one mind, a common goal, a single fierce and deadly determination to defend the women they had chosen as their own.
It was the same single-mindedness that had defied the rustlers and bandits of Texas, the same will to survive that had enabled them to endure a childhood that would have left weaker men crippled and useless.
And now it was focused on Sam Belton.
”Do you think he might be holding them inside the house?” Hen asked as they thundered up to the farmhouse.
”Fern would never let him get inside,” Madison said.
George vaulted from his horse ahead of his brothers. He exploded through the door with such force he broke one of the hinges. Madison followed hard on his heels.
”For goodness sakes, George, don't you know how to enter a room?” Rose asked. A baby's soft cry filled the air. It was immediately joined by a second. ”Now you've waked your daughters.”
”D-daughters?” George stammered. He crossed the room in three strides and, apparently beyond speech, looked down at his family.
Not seeing Fern, Madison began to check the other rooms.