Chapter Four

The gods, likening themselves to all kinds of strangers, go in various disguises from city to city, observing the wrongdoing and the righteousness of men.

—The Odyssey, Homer ("Smyrna of Chio"; 800-700 BC) Greek epic poet

"And who is this?"

Regina Renfrow lifted her head from the account books she had been working on to gaze at the four men who had entered the study. Three were her hired men, including Joaquin and Burt. However, the fourth was a stranger, a somewhat swarthy fellow with wavy dark hair and several days growth of whiskers along with brown eyes that sparkled with mirth as he returned her stare. This stranger spoke before any of her men could. He bowed slightly, sweeping one arm widely to his waist. The other hand held a wide-brimmed hat, which he had removed immediately upon entering and spying the woman.

"¡Señora! My name is Arturo Guerra. I am a humble fellow wandering through the desert and looking for a haven—and a job!" Now he grinned at her.

Regina looked at him harder. "You don't look all that Mexican."

"My great-grandfather was born in Vera Cruz, Señora. Since then, I am forced to admit, the blood has been mixed with that of gringos. Pero vivimos con lo que no podemos cambiar. ¿No es verdad?"

"The philosophy is wise," she agreed, "because you certainly cannot change the blood of your ancestors. Joaquin?"

"As he said, Señora, we found him wandering. Said he was lost. Carried this fine gun." Joaquin pulled a pistol from his waistband and held it toward her, displaying the fancy initials on the handle: "A.G."

"Beautiful weapon," Regina murmured. "Do you know how to use it?"

Artie grinned widely. "It would be a shame to own such a gun if I did not, Señora."

"What kind of work are you seeking?"

Artie shrugged. He was playing this entirely by ear. After another day of watching the compound and its inhabitants, as much as he could see from his hiding place, he had decided he needed to get inside, and that the best way to do that was to walk boldly in. He had allowed himself to be intercepted by several men, who disarmed him and brought him to the woman they referred to as La Reina. He suspected similar events had occurred for Jim West.

"I am a man of many talents, Madame. I sing, I cook, I can herd cattle. I even sew a little. And I can use that fine weapon in a fine way."

"Are you trustworthy?"

Artie shrugged. "I give my trust to the person paying me, and they usually trust me in return."

Regina's slender fingers tapped lightly on the desktop as she continued to study the unshaven, rather handsome man. He had a look about him, a look of competency, even arrogance. Then she nodded. "All right, I will take you on. However, you must prove yourself, Arturo. One misstep…"

Artie's grin returned. "I do not make missteps, Madame, I assure you. You tell me what to do, and I will carry it out."

"Joaquin will give you your orders."

"Gracias, Señora, gracias. You will not regret hiring Arturo Guerra, I assure you." He looked back at Joaquin. "My fine weapon?"

Rather reluctantly, Joaquin handed it over after a nod from his employer. Artie could see that Joaquin had his doubts but was not about to argue with his boss. From the moment he had been accosted out in the desert, the men had talked about La Reina. They would not make a move without her say-so. Artie had no doubt that if she had now told them to execute the newcomer that would have been carried out without hesitation.

After another gallant bow that seemed to bring a twinkle to the old woman's blue eyes, Artie accompanied the other three men into the hallway. As they turned toward the front door, he saw a man and woman emerge from a room down the hall. He spared them only a mild glance as he followed Joaquin outside.

"Do you know him?"

Jim glanced quickly at the young woman at his side and shook his head. "No. I guess I was just surprised to see a stranger in the house." He knew he had reacted. He could not help it. The surprise was too great. Of all things, he had not expected to step into the hallway and see Artemus Gordon! How the hell did you accomplish this, Artie?

"Strangers do appear, from time to time," she murmured.

Jim looked at her again. He saw no suspicion on her countenance. She could not possibly recognize Artemus. However, that not was important at this moment. What mattered now was Artie was here. Somehow, they had to find a chance to talk. Together they had managed many impressive deeds and above all, escapes.

"Shall we continue?" he asked then. They had been sitting in one of the two parlors, Helene with some embroidery while he leafed through a book, when both grew restless, deciding to take a walk outside.

Helene nodded and took his arm. As they started for the front door, Regina Renfrow stepped out of the parlor. She beamed in their direction. "Now, what a splendid couple you two make!"

"Don't misread it, Grandmother," Helene spoke archly. "We are merely banding together in our misery."

"That's a start."

"Who was that man?" Jim asked.

"Just a fellow looking for work. They wander in occasionally, having gotten lost, like you."

"I wasn't looking for work."

"That is true. For you it was much more fortuitous. You wandered into the prospects of gaining a beautiful wife and a fortune."

"Maybe that guy would like to take my place."

Regina's face hardened. "Another mongrel. Part Mexican!"

I don't think Artie would like to hear himself referred to in those terms. "Who knows, maybe another suitable gentleman will stray onto the premises one day soon."

"The most suitable gentleman is already here, James. Go enjoy the day. I have work to do."

They paused on the porch to watch several riders exit through the front gates. "Helene, I think your grandmother is a bit off in the head."

Her laugh was short and sharp. "You mean you've only just realized that? It started about ten years ago, as I began to mature. She began to fret about my choices for marriage, considering that primarily the only men I came in contact with were the hands here on the ranch. That was when she started taking me traveling—shopping for a suitable mate. I was much too young, of course, but I do believe she was using the same procedure as when she chose to marry Herbert. She seemed to have a checklist that the men had to meet, one hundred percent."

"And didn't find that perfect man?"

"Not until you rode in, James."

He laughed now and they stepped off the porch. "Perfect in her eyes, perhaps, but unwilling."

"Well, she can't live forever. If we both hold our ground!"

"I can't remain here waiting for her to die, Helene." He had constantly watched for an opportunity to escape, but none had arisen.

"I know that. I just wish I could help you. But you know the situation." Already two men carrying rifles were following them. "She would kill you, James, rather than allow you to escape and represent total failure on her part."

"I've gotten that impression. She also hinted that she might allow me to taste the lash in order to show me who is boss around here."

"Yes, that's entirely possible. Please don't antagonize her."

"That might be asking too much of me."

As they rounded the corner of the house, Jim spotted his partner unsaddling the chestnut in the corral. Ray Channing was nearby and Jim suspected Channing had been given the chore of showing the new man around. I wonder if Channing might recognize Artie under all that facial hair! Right now, apparently he had not, for he was leaning one shoulder against the fence watching and appeared bored and disinterested.

Jim was careful not to stare toward the corral as Helene naturally steered them in that direction, wishing to be with her sweetheart. Artie glanced his way but also displayed no overt interest as he hoisted his saddle over the fence and turned to say something to Ray, who had had his back toward the approaching pair. Now Channing looked around, so obviously Artie had called his attention to them.

Sliding through the fence rails, Ray Channing walked out to meet them and as he always did, kissed Helene. She had told Jim they never were allowed time alone anymore, so they had decided to be bold with their affectionate gestures. Her grandmother had complained, but so far had done nothing about it—other than Ray was whipped for a minor infraction.

"Señores!" Artie exclaimed as he ducked through the fence. "Two fine men, one lovely señorita! Do we fight a duel?"

"The lady belongs to Mr. Channing," Jim said mildly. "I am only her escort and protector in his absence."

Artie swept off his hat and made the same bow he had given to La Reina. "Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Arturo Guerra, lately from El Paso, newly in the employ of Madame. I am fortunate, eh?"

"Very fortunate," Jim replied. "Man could wander that desert for days… and die out there."

"I agree, Señor. It is a bad territory out there. I did not know I was near civilization and was beginning to fear I would wander into eternity."

"Something similar happened to me. Then I was 'rescued' by Joaquin and his boys."

Artie did not smile. He now had a good idea what had happened. Although he himself had been looking to be caught, Jim probably was surprised. Why was he still here? Obviously, Jim did not want to speak of it here and now. The pretty woman and Channing were now holding hands. Beyond, two men loitered, armed with rifles. What in the world is going on here?

"That's a fine looking horse you have there," Jim said, idly moving toward the fence, leaving the courting couple behind.

Artie followed him and moved up alongside him at the fence. "A good horse. You know horses?"

"I have that reputation." Jim dropped his voice as he climbed up onto the fence, keeping his back to the guards who had not moved. "How did you find me?"

"Pure luck, pal. Pure luck. Why are you still here?"

"Because La Reina has me selected for her grandson-in-law."

Artie was startled and could not help but glance back at Helene and Ray who had their heads together, talking softly. "What?"

"Too much to tell here. Suffice it to say I have been under constant guard and unable to make a break. They've hidden Blackjack somewhere outside the wall." He raised his voice. "Does she have some Morgan blood?"

"Morgan? She is a good horse. That's all I know." The chestnut had come to the fence and he reached out to stroke the neck. "Jim, we need to talk."

"I know, but it's going to be tough. Keep up the pose, and stay on guard. There are things going on around here that I don't understand."

"Such as?"

Jim glanced casually behind him, having caught movement in his peripheral vision. "No time now. Talk to Ray Channing in private if you get a chance." He backed away from the fence and spoke loudly. "Fine horse. You're a lucky man." He then casually turned and returned to Helene and Ray. "Shall we continue our stroll, Helene?"

Artie leaned against the fence to watch the pair depart, noticing the regretful, longing glances between the lady and the cowhand. As Channing came back toward the corral, Artie spoke. "You are a very fortunate man, Señor Channing. Not many ranch owners would allow such a courtship."

Channing's smile was wry. "She doesn't really allow it. However, Helene and I have found that we can buck her—to an extent. Come on, I'll show you the bunkhouse."

Artie grabbed his blanket roll and saddlebags off the saddle and fell in alongside as they strode toward the long building beyond the stables. He was puzzled by Jim's last comment. Who was this Ray Channing and why would Jim trust him, beyond the fact that Channing had the young woman's favor?

The hope that he might be able to speak to his escort inside the bunkhouse faded when he found two men there, one nursing a broken arm, the other apparently just keeping him company for the moment. Artie was introduced to them after he selected a now vacant bunk and stowed his gear, and then Ray led him outside again.

"I did not catch the name of the fellow with your lady, Señor Channing. You do not consider him competition for her favors?"

Channing chuckled. "No. He's not here by choice."

"Oh? And who is he?"

"Name's Jim West. An old friend of sorts from way back."

"Indeed?" Artie paused by a pump and began to work the handle. "You were friends as children, eh?"

"Not quite. He was a captain in the Union Army during the war. He and his partner rescued a bunch of other boys and me from Bedford Forrest. Kept us from going to a Reb prison camp."

"Ah, I see." So that's why Jim trusts you, eh? "Why don't you give me a tour of the place, Sergeant?" He took a drink from the tin cup he had filled, pleased to notice the young cowhand did not overreact.

They did not speak again until they were behind the barn, near the chicken coops and alone. "How did you know I was a sergeant?" Channing demanded.

Artie grinned and dropped his accent as he spoke. "I never met you, Channing, but one of your comrades told me that their Sergeant Channing had kept the group together, boosting morale, despite he was wounded himself. I just put two and two together after Jim indicated I should trust you. I'm Artemus Gordon."

Ray Channing gasped and stared, his eyes widening. "Of course! I see it now. I recognized Captain West almost immediately. But…"

"I don't usually have the chin whiskers. Quickly now, tell me what the devil is going on around here!"

W*W*W*W*W

Jim soon realized that knowing Artie was near made his situation even more frustrating. They needed to talk, to work out a plan to safely get away from this place. Having his partner nearby was a good feeling, but at the same time, Artie's presence was useless if they could not manage to get together to work out a scheme. Sometimes they were able to cooperate without the opportunity to talk and plan, but this was a very different situation. Even if Artie was able to obtain some information from Channing, he was walking into the situation cold.

He spent the remainder of that day looking for a chance to go out to talk to his partner again, but just after midday, when he stepped out onto the porch ostensibly to enjoy a cigarillo, he saw Artie riding out through the gate with Burt and four other men. Arturo Guerra had hired on to work, and he was being taken at his word! Artie could hardly refuse an order.

So instead, Jim wandered toward the outbuildings, nodding to some women who were working in the vegetable garden. They acknowledged the greeting and one spoke to her nearest companion. "La señorita tiene la suerte de tener a un hombre apuesto para casarse. Tal vez veremos una boda muy pronto!"

Jim did not pause, nor smile, not wishing to allow even these workers to know he understood that they had just commented how lucky Helene was to have such a fine looking bridegroom chosen for her. They were looking forward to the wedding celebration. Sorry ladies, but you are going to have to wait longer.

His guards paused in the shade of some trees and Jim strolled toward the stable. Though the wide open door he saw Ray Channing and another man grooming horses. He paused at the door. "Need some help?"

"We can always use help," Ray grinned. "But I am not sure La Reina would be happy for the prince-elect to be laboring with the peons."

"Too bad," Jim said, stripping off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. He caught Ray's glance and looked significantly toward the Mexican youth who was grooming the other horse. Ray spoke in Spanish to Pablo, telling him he could go start repairing the fence at the chicken coop. Jim of course pretended to not understand.

Once the boy had gone, Jim picked up the brush and began working on the bay horse. He waited for Ray to speak, and that happened about two minutes after the boy departed. Apparently, Ray wanted to make sure Pablo had gone far enough away. Through the door, Jim saw that his sentries were still relaxing in the shade. They could see him plainly, and by the expressions on their faces, he was sure they were wondering why he was opting for physical labor on this warm day.

"I spoke to Captain Gordon," Channing said softly. "I can't believe he walked right into this lair!"

"We do that all the time," Jim replied. "Sometimes it's necessary. I'd like to know how he tracked me down!"

"I didn't get all that. We didn't have too much time to talk before feeling we might be missed. But I told him about how Mrs. Renfrow has her mind set on you marrying Helene, and let him know how hardheaded—and dangerous—she is."

"Ray, how far do you think Regina will go to get her wishes obeyed?"

Channing's sigh was audible. "I'm not entirely sure. I'm pretty surprised I'm still here—and alive. I think she knows how Helene would react if I was seriously harmed. Helene let her have it after I was whipped. I think that whipping was more to warn me—perhaps break me."

"She mentioned she would not hesitate to apply the same treatment to me."

The other man was silent a moment. "Have you ever felt the lash?"

"Yes."

"Someone's coming," Ray whispered, and an instant later Vicente and another man entered, speaking in Spanish and laughing.

Jim did not react when he heard the younger man crow that he had won the lottery for the fine black horse. At least that meant, it seemed, that Blackjack was safe and perhaps well cared for. Both men threw some gibes in Spanish toward Jim as they saddled their own horses, unaware that he comprehended every word they were saying. Especially when they discussed their present assignment, which seemed to be that they were to go out and meet someone. Jim was about to ask Ray what they were talking about the moment they were out of earshot, but before he could, one of the house servants came to the stable door, informing Jim that he was wanted in the house.

Knowing that to refuse would call attention to the fact that he was performing peons' work and perhaps have it reported to La Reina what he was doing and with whom, Jim picked up his jacket and strode toward the house. He did not bother to wonder what this summons meant. With Regina, who knew? He waved the guards along with him, out of the shade, as he strolled back toward the mansion.

Entering the front door, Jim noted that the study door was shut, but the door to the first parlor stood open, so he stepped to that one. Regina was seated on the sofa, Helene nearby on a chair, and a table covered with a teapot and plates of cookies and cakes was in between them.

"James!" Regina exclaimed as she looked up. "Come join us. I thought it was time for a celebration."

Jim moved into the room. "A celebration of what?"

He had seen how Helene rolled her eyes at her grandmother's word, and it was the younger woman who spoke. "An engagement party, Jim. Is that lovely?" Her tone was acidic.

"It would be," he nodded, sitting on another chair, "if an engagement had occurred to celebrate."

"You two," Regina sighed as she poured the steaming amber liquid into a delicate cup. "When are you going to come to your senses? You are made for each other. Anyone can see that: the perfect pair for the perfect time. You both must realize another such opportunity will never come your way." She extended one cup and saucer to Helene, who rose to take it and hand it to Jim. "James, you win a beautiful, intelligent wife and command over this estate, and Helene, yours is a handsome, virile man who will treat you like a queen, I'm sure. He will father splendid children to continue the Renfrow line."

"The West line," Jim said softly, and when Helene's startled eyes turned to him, he added, "If I accepted. The lineage would be that of the West family."

"Oh." Regina handed another cup to Helene and filled her own. "I don't suppose I mentioned that at all, did I? You will be required to take the Renfrow name as your own, James. I'm sure you understand that."

Jim was not surprised; he had rather suspected from her earlier talk that that was what she had in mind. He shook his head. "No. Don't get me wrong, I'm not accepting your deal. Nonetheless, if I ever marry, my wife will take my name. After all, you took your husband's name."

"That was different, James. My family name was… nothing. My father was a shopkeeper on the outskirts of Philadelphia, his family undistinguished. I helped build the Renfrow name into what it is today. It cannot die simply because I do not have a surviving son."

"It will," Helene spoke sharply, "because Ray does not intend to give up his family name, either. Nor do I wish him too."

Before her grandmother could admonish her, Jim spoke again. "You say you have built the Renfrow name. But the name is unknown beyond The Crown."

"That's all that's necessary at this time. It will be yours to expand if you wish, once I'm gone."

Jim put his untouched tea aside on a small pie-plate table alongside his chair. "What do we have to do or say to convince you that it is not going to happen? Regina, return my horse to me and allow me to go free right now. I will respect your privacy and no one will know of this ranch until you—or your heirs—wish it to be known. Or until someone else stumbles upon it."

Her smile was cool, but amused. "And you won't charge me with kidnapping—or worse? No, James. You are here to stay, whether you yield to my wishes or not. I cannot allow you to leave and trust my secrets will remain safe. You might as well accept the inevitable. I am sure that you can convince my stubborn granddaughter if you apply yourself. I cannot imagine that a gentleman with your appearance and charm cannot influence the ladies."

"I'm sorry to put a damper on your 'celebration,' Regina." Jim got to his feet.

"Sit down, James. Sit down!"

He gazed at her a moment, then turned and left the parlor, not missing the quick smile Helene cast his way. Regina called his name, but he ignored her, going for the stairs. He knew that if he had stayed in that parlor his temper would have erupted. After more than a week in this house, his patience was about worn out. Knowing Artie was present was encouraging, but Artie was currently as helpless as he was. Fifty armed men roamed these grounds. Artie had his weapon, and possibly other gadgets, but that was about it.

He had been in his room just a few minutes when the door opened. One of the guards, a stocky man with a scarred face stood there. He did not point his rifle at Jim, but he was holding it at the ready. "La Reina wishes to see you, Señor."

Jim shook his head. "I'm tired. I'm going to lay down awhile." He stepped over and stretched out on the bed, hands under his head.

The guard stared at him, obviously befuddled. He did not have any instructions concerning what to do if the prisoner refused to obey, Jim was certain. After a moment, the guard reached out, pulled the door shut. Jim heard his hurried footsteps out in the hall, heading for the stairway.

Now what? He sat up, swinging his legs over the side. Was it wise to annoy Regina? He was certain she would not have him killed. Not yet, anyway. That would be admitting defeat on her part, and she was not a woman who accepted defeat easily. She could, however, go through with the threatened punishment. I don't want a whipping, but it might be necessary to push things to a head!

He remained in the room for about an hour, pacing around, occasionally looking out the window in the hopes of seeing Artie return. He was unsure what he would do if he spotted his partner back inside the walls. We have to talk, to make plans. If we're going to escape from here, our actions have to be coordinated. They had grasped the few minutes at the corral, but needed more.

Finally leaving the room and descending the stairs, Jim saw several men entering the study. He halted and watched. One man looked up at him, displayed the same surprise Jim was experiencing, then hurried into the room and the door was shut. Jim continued down the steps, and found Helene in the second parlor again, her embroidery in her hands.

"Grandmother was absolutely furious with you, James. She probably still is!"

Jim smiled and shook his head as he took the chair opposite. "I felt I had to push things a little. I hope she didn't take it out on you."

"No, no more than usual. Jim, I don't know what to do! She is so set on this."

"I know." He wished he could tell her about Artie's presence, but in particular, he did not want to discuss it here in the house. He had not noticed any of the servants listening to conversations, but that was always a possibility. The servants, like most of the hands, appeared completely loyal to La Reina. Besides that, he knew a guard was probably standing outside the now closed parlor door.

Helene put her sewing aside. "There has got to be some way you can escape."

"I haven't figured it out yet if there is."

"Perhaps… perhaps we should go through with it."

Jim met her gaze. "Get married, you mean?"

"Grandmother might… relax."

"I doubt it, Helene. Especially if we yielded suddenly, and while Ray is still on the premises. I'm afraid we've both been much too clear about our feelings."

She laughed ruefully. "I am sure you're right. Well, it'll continue to be a battle of wills, then."

Jim frowned now. "Is there any chance you and Ray could escape? Elope?"

"We've talked about it. Ray is not exactly under guard as you are, but he is watched, not allowed to leave the compound. Regina is between a rock and a hard place where he is concerned. She cannot have him seriously harmed. She knows she would lose me completely if that occurred. Yet she also knows that as long as he is here, my heart belongs to him."