Cold Revenge
After she fainted and I lay her on the settee, Miriam was out for less than a minute but it was enough to send my father and Hop Sing into a panic. Hop Sing came running with a glass of water and a cool cloth for her head; my father chaffed her wrist. Asher clung to my pants' leg, crying and asking what was wrong with "Momma", would she be all right. And then, when Miriam finally came around, Asher threw himself on her and she stroked his head, comforting him and assuring him she was going to be fine; she just needed to eat, she told him and he raised a tear-stained face and kissed her cheek, saying he would bring her a cookie. He scuttled back to the kitchen.
Miriam slowly sat up and there must have been something in my face because Hop Sing and my father peeled away, both going back to the kitchen. Only Asher ran back in and handed a butter cookie to Miriam.
"Thank you, Asher," she said.
He crawled up on the couch beside her but I wanted her alone so I picked him up and stood him back on the rug. I crouched and held his waist so we would be eye to eye. I composed my expression to one of benign concern.
"Son, I want to talk to Miss Miriam alone, okay? Why don't you go back in the kitchen? Momma'll be there as soon as we've finished talking."
"Okay, Pa." He hurried back to the kitchen and then I stood and looked at Miriam.
"What is it, Miriam? There's something else, isn't there?"
"I didn't think I should tell you…the man also said that 'they' didn't know how they were going to do to get the message across to you, whether it was going to be by taking me and enjoying themselves—he smiled at me then—but when they saw Asher alone, they couldn't let the opportunity pass. And, Adam, he implied they might even decide to kill you to shut you up."
"And just what is it you expect me to do, Miriam?"
"Nothing. I expect—no, I hope you'll do nothing. Just let the whole matter drop. It's not worth it."
"They took my boy and you expect me to do nothing! They suggest they might even take you and rape you and you expect me to do nothing about it!" I knew I had raised my voice, was almost yelling and my mind went to the kitchen and what Asher was hearing so I lowered my voice, composed myself. "Baxter had to be the one who told them, who let his backers know what was coming. Now that Asher is home, I can let Roy know what happened and he can start an investigation. What just happened is the tip of what's going on, Miriam—these men have to be stopped. And you expect me to just sit on my ass and do nothing. To live in fear of harm to my family. I won't."
"Think about it, Adam…there were two men who said they witnessed the cave-in that killed Reese Murray, weren't there?"
"Yes, they were traveling to Carson City…" If I hadn't been so upset, I might have made the connection sooner. Two men. They might be the same two men who had taken Asher. They may very well be the muscle for Forest Investment. If they were, and more than likely they were, the names they had given to Roy years ago were aliases just as Brown and White were. I knew what Miriam was suggesting; they were hired killers and capable of much more, or worse things and had only stated with the mildest action they could take.
"Miriam, I can't just walk away from this. I have to strike back. This may be the only chance I have so I have to take it and make it good. You may not be able to understand but I have to do this."
"What about Asher?"
"He's safe here and so are you. Just stay at the Ponderosa and keep a tight hold on him."
"That's not what I mean. How will he do without a father?"
It's odd how the mind works. Lines from Macbeth echoed in my head—lines between a mother, Lady Macduff, and her son before they are slaughtered by Macbeth's brutes—"How wilt thou do for a father?" "Nay, how will you do for a husband."
If I were killed, what would Asher do without a father, but Miriam, how would she manage? Would she think of the same dismissive answer that lady Macduff gave? "Why I can buy me twenty at any market!"
"Asher would manage without me. He has you and my father and brothers. And as for you managing, well you could just marry again."
"You are cold-hearted, aren't you?" She rose from the settee and I reached out to steady her but she managed to find her feet without my help. "I know it won't make any difference to you since your famous Cartwright pride has been injured, but…I'm with child. So you wouldn't just be leaving Asher without a father."
"Miriam, I…" Suddenly things were different. I reached for her but she sidestepped and jerked her arm away. I had made a mess of the whole thing but even with the knowledge that a child was on the way, I couldn't let the matter of the Horseshoe mine and Asher's abduction go unavenged. I couldn't. I would never have peace if I did. "Try to understand…"
"I can't, Adam, but I suppose that doesn't matter. You've never needed my understanding." She walked slowly into the kitchen and I thought again about my actions. Could I just let it drop, allow myself to be intimidated by the threat against my family? When I destroyed the threat, when I brought down those who had done this thing, only then would I be able to live without fear of Asher or Miriam or anyone else in my family being harmed. I couldn't go through my days living in a constant state of fear.
I saddled up a fresh horse and asked one of the ranch hands to take care of mine. I had ridden my horse hard over the past few days but for this, I needed a fresh horse. I had no idea what was in store and I wanted to be able to take off after anyone—whoever that might be. You may be thinking that I wanted a fresh horse in case I had to ride hard to save my own ass but that wasn't the reason at all. Things had come down to me or them and I wasn't backing down.
I rode to Virginia City taking the road that led up to Baxter's house. He didn't work, held no job so I was certain he was home. A few yards before I was in earshot of the house, I tied off my horse. I approached the house from the side and raised the door knocker twice—dropping it heavily both times. Then I pressed myself against the wall in case Baxter or Lorelei were cautious enough to look out the window first.
I waited and the door slowly opened and I saw Baxter's face start to peek out. I stepped out, swiveled and kicked the door fully open. I heard an "Oof!" and knew the oak door had hit Baxter hard. I stepped inside and he was staggering backward and holding his head. Before he could even see who it was, I grabbed his shirtfront and slammed a fist into his jaw. His feet slipped out from under him and I released him and he dropped onto the Aubusson rug. The pain that radiated through my fist gave me an immense sense of satisfaction; Baxter must hurt twice as much. I wondered if his blood, the blood I was about to spill, would be able to be cleaned off the decorative roses and Fleurs de Lis that danced across the thick carpet.
I grabbed Baxter again, pulling him up by his shirtfront and smashed his face again and blood sprayed from his nose. I had broken it and the knowledge spurred me on. I hit him again and again and then I sensed a movement on my right and heard the draw of a hammer and the rotation of a gun barrel. It was Lorelei holding a .45 and, aiming at me. I dropped Harry and faced her, breathing heavily. Harry Baxter lay moaning, slowly rocking side to side and a gurgling sound came with ever groan he made.
"Get out of our home!" she said. "I'll shoot you if you hit him again!"
I raised my hands and then looking down at Harry, I kicked him in the ribs—it was satisfactory to hear him cry out from the sharp pain.
"I'll shoot you—I swear it!" I watched Lorelei; she was shaking and I wondered if she really knew how to use the thing, knew how to aim. People could often miss even at close range, especially if the gun kicked.
"I'm not leaving without Harry; I'm taking him to Roy Coffee's. My son was taken, but I guess you know that, and your husband set it in motion. He's going to tell who hired the men, who wanted it done."
"I'm sorry about your boy," she said, still holding the gun far too high to really hit me but I got the impression she was scared enough to shoot. I don't like stray bullets whizzing around my head. "But he had nothing to do with it. I hope they find your boy soon."
"My son's back home, unharmed, but two men took him and they left a message for me. Your husband's responsible." Baxter continued to moan.
"Harry had nothing to do with it."
"No?" I said stepping closer. "I came to see him about the mine and a few days later my son is taken. The message for me was to quit any investigation into the mine. Why, Lorelei? Why would they tell me that if not that your husband told them? And what about Reese? Haven't you ever wondered what he was doing in the mine all alone? A banker who knew nothing about mining, who had stolen the money from the bank to finance his investment. Maybe he wanted out of the mess, wanted to confess to the law because he knew the audit was almost finished. Reese wasn't a dishonest man—but a desperate man and I think he wanted to clear the air, help the officials, but the Forest Investment Group—a smokescreen for some shady dealings, I'm sure—wouldn't allow it, couldn't allow it so Reese had to die. And the killers had to make sure the body wouldn't be found easily. And isn't it convenient that two drifters witnessed it—just as there were two men who took my son?"
"Harry's hurt badly—look what you did!" She was becoming shrill, her hands shaking so badly she was having trouble keeping ahold of the gun.
I spread my hands, palms out and stepped back. "I'll see Harry gets help but I need to take him to the sheriff. Both of us need answers, Lorelei—both of us need to know what really happened to Reese."
Lorelei lowered the gun. "Get the buggy. He needs to see Doc Martin before he talks to anyone."
~ 0 ~
Harry and I both needed to see the doctor. Doc Martin stitched up Baxter's split lip and placed a strip if plaster across his smashed nose—whether it would heal properly or not allowing Baxter to eventually breathe through it again, the doctor couldn't say; at the moment, he had to breathe through his mouth and both his eyes were swollen-purple bruises covered his cheeks. He also had two broken ribs from my boot in his side. Lorelei Baxter sat stiffly watching, her arms crossed below the shelf of her bosom. Her face was set in the permanent scowl that was her constant expression.
As for me, Doc Martin wrapped my hand. He couldn't say if it was broken or not since it was so swollen but implied I deserved a broken hand after the hurting I had put on Baxter. I said Baxter was lucky to still be alive after what he'd done.
"Don't you think that's for the law to decide?" Paul Martin asked me as he worked on the bandaging.
"I know he's guilty. I don't need the law to decide for me. Besides, leaving it to the law would have denied me the extreme satisfaction of smashing his face into a bloody mess." Paul just frowned at me disapprovingly. I smiled. "You hoping he presses charges against me?" I asked.
Paul huffed and stepped away to clean up after tying off my bandage. "I don't like to any human damaged the way Harry Baxter is. As to what happens to you—I'm just a doctor. I try to put back together what men tear apart. And the human body—such a bad plan, actually. We have so few inherent defenses—so vulnerable."
I wasn't going to argue. "I'm going home after I see Roy. I'll leave the wagon for Mrs. Baxter." Paul turned to say something to me but he stopped. So I left.
My hand was throbbing; I'd had a hard time hitching up the Baxter's buggy but pain often has to be worked through. I looked down at my hand. Paul had washed the dried blood off and we were both pleased to see none of the blood had been mine. But my shirtsleeve and the front of my shirt and pants were covered with blood spatter. I was almost to Roy's office where I planned to sit and wait and nurse my hand. Since Pa had sent for Roy, I knew it would be awhile. I wondered if the small flask of whiskey was still kept in the bottom drawer of Roy's desk. I wanted nothing more than a mug of Roy's hot, bitter coffee with a slug of Kentucky whiskey—good for whatever ails you. But before I could open the office door, I heard my name called in Roy's distinctive voice. So I waited while he pulled up to the hitching post in front of the jail and dismounted.
"You made good time," I said.
"I met your pa on the road. Told me you were heading out to the Baxters so I turned right around and headed back. Went to the Baxters and when I stepped inside, well, it looked like a murder scene only there was no body. Where're Lorelei and Harry?"
"Over at the doc's. I'm glad you're here. I want to file a complaint."
"Oh?" Roy said. "You going to complain that Harry Baxter broke your hand," he indicated my wrapped hand, "by repeatedly running into your fist?"
I just smiled. "No. He conspired with the Forest Investment Group to silence me by abducting my son."
"You have proof of that?"
"I will. Harry Baxter's going to talk."
"You leave his mouth intact? Is it operable?"
I shrugged. "More or less. But Lorelei, I think she has some questions for him as well. Many questions. I think she'll help."
"Now why would she want to do that?"
"Let's just say I put a flea in her ear." Roy raised his brows quizzically. "Hey, Roy, how about a pot of coffee and a dram of that smooth Kentucky whiskey of yours?"
"I suppose I could muster it. That is while I take your statement. After I go see the Baxter's though, don't be surprised iffen I have to ride out to the Ponderosa and arrest you as well."
"Now you know you're always welcome on the Ponderosa—warrant or not. Come during the dinner hour. I think Hop Sing plans to roast a pig." Roy didn't smile; just shook his head.
TBC
