"That's the stable, sir. Fletcher's Livery." The cab driver pointed with
his whip to the building across the road.
"Thank you. Wait for us." Elliott Marston helped Sam Flanagan to the ground. "We'll be out in a few minutes and you can take us back."
"Yes, sir." The driver nodded respectfully as he pocketed the silver coin tossed to him.
Marston and Sam examined their destination. It was a flourishing enterprise, almost the size of a barn with a large yard in front and running around the side. Almost a dozen men were working in the open areas: repairing saddles, leading horses into the building, unloading feed sacks from a wagon or coming and going from an office that was separate from the main work area. There was no sign of Liam.
"Now we agreed that I would do the talking." Marston's voice held a warning note.
"No, we didn't." Sam slanted a look up at him, then smiled. "You simply declared that you would and I didn't argue."
In spite of the circumstances, he smiled back. They were working together as a team. It was an exhilarating feeling.
It had been an action-filled three hours. Getting further information of Ches Watters's plans out of Belle had been difficult until he dropped the pretence of courtesy and threatened to have his friend the mayor take a close look at her business. Only then did she sulkily provide them with what little else she knew.
Apparently Watters had revealed his intentions to one of Belle's associates as he left her room early that morning. It was Belle's professional opinion that he would return to his home to sleep and refresh himself. Business would keep him housebound until the evening. So spiriting Liam away from the stable to the safety of the hotel should be easy to accomplish if they moved quickly.
Belle had been shoved back into her carriage and sent on her way. Her exit had rivaled her entrance: the hotel manager would need a holiday to recover from it. Then Marston and Sam sat down to make their own plans.
He had expected to have to argue for his ideas but was pleasantly surprised to find her in full agreement with most of them. That the law enforcement officers of Fremantle would not be notified was immediately determined; it would be impossible to keep word about old Sam's whereabouts from getting out and attracting even more unwelcome attention. They also agreed that Marston should take the initiative in any confrontation with Watters since his social and professional standing in the town would stand in their favor.
Deciding the details of their plan had been more contentious. Marston was forced to agree to Sam's presence; Liam was more likely to listen to his sister than to his soon-to-be brother-in-law. Sam agreed to leave all other dealings in Marston's hands.
"Do you see him?" Sam craned her head to scan the stableyard.
"He could be inside." Marston checked the street in both directions, then started across. "Let's get this over with."
Their arrival didn't seem to attract much notice. They entered the yard and looked for someone who might be in charge. An inquiry of the boy watering some of the animals revealed the name of the foreman and his location. They proceeded to the office building in the corner of the yard.
An old man sat on a crate in front of a battered desk piled high with papers that were held down by horseshoes. He peered at his visitors through watery blue eyes. "Liam? Oh, yeah, him. He's mucking out the stalls." An imperious wave through the window beside him brought one of the hands to the door. "You, get young Flanagan out here. Tell him he's got company." The employee ran off and the foreman returned to his papers, his manner suggesting that his business was vital and pressed by deadlines.
Marston and Sam waited. Finally Liam appeared in the doorway, looking at the foreman's office. After pausing to wash his hands at the trough, he joined them with a nod at his sister and a belligerent stare for Marston.
"Isn't this a nice surprise? We were out shopping and we decided to give you a ride back to the hotel." Sam gestured to the cab and driver still parked across the street.
Liam stared. "But I don't get off til after supper when the drivers get back."
"Oh, but we talked to your boss." Sam nodded at the foreman. "He said it's alright just this once."
"But I'm not finished yet." He frowned suddenly. "Is something wrong?"
Marston thought Sam's smile was starting to look a little desperate. "Of course not, silly!" She laughed in a high register. "What could be wrong? Get your stuff and come on."
"It's Dad, isn't it? Did he have another stroke?" Liam was getting frightened and his independent pose dropped to reveal the boy underneath. "Tell me!"
"Your father's fine." Marston thought it was time to step in. "Sam just wanted to surprise you. So since we've already arranged things, you can leave without any problem."
Liam remembered his family standing and scowled at Marston. "I get paid for a full days work and I give a full day's work. I can get back to your fancy hotel when I'm done." He turned away and headed for the stable again.
Looking back over the incident later on, Marston felt that his first real mistake had been not giving in to his impulse to knock Liam out, tie him up and toss him into the cab. It would have made everything so much simpler. But Sam did not give him the time to act. She followed her brother into the stable, arguing the entire way. With a sigh, the rancher had followed her.
Liam was suffering the embarrassment that only a young man on the verge of manhood can feel when an older female relative hectors him in front of his friends and associates. Even in the gloom of the stalls his ears were a bright red. Normally Sam would have been more compassionate but fear made her reckless. Finally she reached out and grabbed his arm, trying to pull him with her.
Marston paused inside the door and shook his head at the undignified tug of war between the siblings. The other men stopped working and stared, some shouting advice to Liam, others simply laughing at the sight. Liam was now crimson with mortification. With a final wrench the boy managed to break away, stumbling backward in the effort.
"Liam!" Sam became aware of her surroundings again and lowered her voice. "Please come with us."
Her brother shook his head and backed away even further. Marston decided to take charge of the situation and bring the spectacle to a close.
"Look, son, why don't we go back to the hotel and discuss -"
"I'm not your son!" Liam spat the word. "And don't think you can order me around just because you buy nice things!"
An impasse had been reached. The other stablehands were now openly watching the proceedings with no pretence of doing their work. Sam was panting from the exertion and her emotions; Liam was in the throes of a growing anger fueled by wounded adolescent male pride. Marston considered his next move carefully.
And then a new voice was heard from the doorway behind them. "Well, well, what's going on here now?" A middle-aged man with a barrel chest and bowlegs swaggered into the stable. "Looks like a argymint of some kind." He scanned the group with a cold eye, pausing at a familiar face. "Afternoon, Ed."
The stablehand nodded respectfully. "Good afternoon, Mr. Watters."
"Thank you. Wait for us." Elliott Marston helped Sam Flanagan to the ground. "We'll be out in a few minutes and you can take us back."
"Yes, sir." The driver nodded respectfully as he pocketed the silver coin tossed to him.
Marston and Sam examined their destination. It was a flourishing enterprise, almost the size of a barn with a large yard in front and running around the side. Almost a dozen men were working in the open areas: repairing saddles, leading horses into the building, unloading feed sacks from a wagon or coming and going from an office that was separate from the main work area. There was no sign of Liam.
"Now we agreed that I would do the talking." Marston's voice held a warning note.
"No, we didn't." Sam slanted a look up at him, then smiled. "You simply declared that you would and I didn't argue."
In spite of the circumstances, he smiled back. They were working together as a team. It was an exhilarating feeling.
It had been an action-filled three hours. Getting further information of Ches Watters's plans out of Belle had been difficult until he dropped the pretence of courtesy and threatened to have his friend the mayor take a close look at her business. Only then did she sulkily provide them with what little else she knew.
Apparently Watters had revealed his intentions to one of Belle's associates as he left her room early that morning. It was Belle's professional opinion that he would return to his home to sleep and refresh himself. Business would keep him housebound until the evening. So spiriting Liam away from the stable to the safety of the hotel should be easy to accomplish if they moved quickly.
Belle had been shoved back into her carriage and sent on her way. Her exit had rivaled her entrance: the hotel manager would need a holiday to recover from it. Then Marston and Sam sat down to make their own plans.
He had expected to have to argue for his ideas but was pleasantly surprised to find her in full agreement with most of them. That the law enforcement officers of Fremantle would not be notified was immediately determined; it would be impossible to keep word about old Sam's whereabouts from getting out and attracting even more unwelcome attention. They also agreed that Marston should take the initiative in any confrontation with Watters since his social and professional standing in the town would stand in their favor.
Deciding the details of their plan had been more contentious. Marston was forced to agree to Sam's presence; Liam was more likely to listen to his sister than to his soon-to-be brother-in-law. Sam agreed to leave all other dealings in Marston's hands.
"Do you see him?" Sam craned her head to scan the stableyard.
"He could be inside." Marston checked the street in both directions, then started across. "Let's get this over with."
Their arrival didn't seem to attract much notice. They entered the yard and looked for someone who might be in charge. An inquiry of the boy watering some of the animals revealed the name of the foreman and his location. They proceeded to the office building in the corner of the yard.
An old man sat on a crate in front of a battered desk piled high with papers that were held down by horseshoes. He peered at his visitors through watery blue eyes. "Liam? Oh, yeah, him. He's mucking out the stalls." An imperious wave through the window beside him brought one of the hands to the door. "You, get young Flanagan out here. Tell him he's got company." The employee ran off and the foreman returned to his papers, his manner suggesting that his business was vital and pressed by deadlines.
Marston and Sam waited. Finally Liam appeared in the doorway, looking at the foreman's office. After pausing to wash his hands at the trough, he joined them with a nod at his sister and a belligerent stare for Marston.
"Isn't this a nice surprise? We were out shopping and we decided to give you a ride back to the hotel." Sam gestured to the cab and driver still parked across the street.
Liam stared. "But I don't get off til after supper when the drivers get back."
"Oh, but we talked to your boss." Sam nodded at the foreman. "He said it's alright just this once."
"But I'm not finished yet." He frowned suddenly. "Is something wrong?"
Marston thought Sam's smile was starting to look a little desperate. "Of course not, silly!" She laughed in a high register. "What could be wrong? Get your stuff and come on."
"It's Dad, isn't it? Did he have another stroke?" Liam was getting frightened and his independent pose dropped to reveal the boy underneath. "Tell me!"
"Your father's fine." Marston thought it was time to step in. "Sam just wanted to surprise you. So since we've already arranged things, you can leave without any problem."
Liam remembered his family standing and scowled at Marston. "I get paid for a full days work and I give a full day's work. I can get back to your fancy hotel when I'm done." He turned away and headed for the stable again.
Looking back over the incident later on, Marston felt that his first real mistake had been not giving in to his impulse to knock Liam out, tie him up and toss him into the cab. It would have made everything so much simpler. But Sam did not give him the time to act. She followed her brother into the stable, arguing the entire way. With a sigh, the rancher had followed her.
Liam was suffering the embarrassment that only a young man on the verge of manhood can feel when an older female relative hectors him in front of his friends and associates. Even in the gloom of the stalls his ears were a bright red. Normally Sam would have been more compassionate but fear made her reckless. Finally she reached out and grabbed his arm, trying to pull him with her.
Marston paused inside the door and shook his head at the undignified tug of war between the siblings. The other men stopped working and stared, some shouting advice to Liam, others simply laughing at the sight. Liam was now crimson with mortification. With a final wrench the boy managed to break away, stumbling backward in the effort.
"Liam!" Sam became aware of her surroundings again and lowered her voice. "Please come with us."
Her brother shook his head and backed away even further. Marston decided to take charge of the situation and bring the spectacle to a close.
"Look, son, why don't we go back to the hotel and discuss -"
"I'm not your son!" Liam spat the word. "And don't think you can order me around just because you buy nice things!"
An impasse had been reached. The other stablehands were now openly watching the proceedings with no pretence of doing their work. Sam was panting from the exertion and her emotions; Liam was in the throes of a growing anger fueled by wounded adolescent male pride. Marston considered his next move carefully.
And then a new voice was heard from the doorway behind them. "Well, well, what's going on here now?" A middle-aged man with a barrel chest and bowlegs swaggered into the stable. "Looks like a argymint of some kind." He scanned the group with a cold eye, pausing at a familiar face. "Afternoon, Ed."
The stablehand nodded respectfully. "Good afternoon, Mr. Watters."