Chapter Eighty Five
Paul Franklin ate a full breakfast at the club in Newport. He had gambled the night away and spent the night with his young paramour. Her elderly husband fast asleep at home with his male nurse. He was ravenous from his night on the town along with the pent up anger from yesterday's missive.
"This Nathaniel Springer doesn't know who he is dealing with. I can swoop in at any moment and take my son and that witch I married can't do a single thing about it. Not one thing. She exposes me and I ruin his future. She knows the deal we have. She keeps him and stays quiet. It's not hard for a smart woman, college educated and all French and fancy. She abandoned me—-"
He ordered another tomato juice cocktail and sighed, "She wouldn't, would she? I have made sure that odious Buck and Miller left her alone. She has plenty of income, just not the millions I made for her father."
The server brought out another saucer of hot biscuits. He took one from the plate, "What if I head back to Stockton, try to make her become my wife again. She can't refuse conjugal rights or I would have another ace in my pocket."
The waiter brought the bill and Paul signed for it. He had an appointment with a tailor he had been trying to make an appointment with—-he was "top drawer" as the Knickerbocker set called him. Then he had a meeting with a Newport broker after lunch.
"Paul, I have some special investments for wise, discerning men like you. I don't advertise them of course but the truly wealthy in our little community know where to come," and he whispered some very prestigious family names.
Paul's interest was peeked. He had plenty of money to invest, currently in cash, gold and bonds. "The safe Taylor way," he muttered, "But what if I can become a robber baron, fabulously wealthy on my own. Franklin synonymous with Vanderbilt, Astor or Morgan—-if only I had the champagne family diamonds. They have to be worth thousands."
He busied himself the rest of the morning with thoughts of grandeur and society.
"I was meant for this," he said aloud to himself. It brought a smile to his face and a spring to his step.
—&—-
Patrice quickly glided through the rose garden and into the surrounding trees. She had her hand on her gun and a knife in her hand
The smoke was stinging her eyes as she watched the quail pen and chicken coops burn to the ground. She was startled by an errant chicken running through the brush. Horses were let out of the corrals and were nibbling on grass. Spots of ash were on their manes and tails.
The roof shingles of the corral were starting to catch sparks brought by the wind. She inched closer still trying to figure out where Butch and the boys might be. She said a little prayer that they were already by the house.
The small well house, long unused, was ahead of her. She made it through the trees and found two horses tethered there—with the BT brand on them. Distinctive pintos. She seemed to remember Nick's words about Brahma.
She took a deep breath and pushed the door open to the shed. Inside was rope, two saddlebags, burlap wicking and a rifle.
She frowned as she pilfered through the bag—-gold, casino deed, a Mexican ranch deed, three last wills and testimonies, train tickets and bonds—-the names Miller, Turner, Franklin, Taylor all dispersed in the folio.
Patrice read through the documents and tried to memorize as many details as she could. The bottom of the saddlebag was lined with 12 inch square of purple silk.
It confused her but she assumed it was an important detail.
She placed the items back where she found them and inched back on the trail. She picked up some intentions prints on the path.
"Little spurs?"
"Has to be the boys."
"But what is being dragged?"
—-&—-
Patrice continued tracking the feet down to the stream. She gasped as she came upon Butch's body crawling slowly on the ground,
"Up there. By the stream. I heard the boys. Get them."
"You have a uh, a bad wound in your back." Patrice hissed. A hunting knife was stuck between his shoulder blades and his shirt was stained with blood.
"Save the boys first." He sputtered.
"I can do both," with more bravado than she felt, "Can you stand?"
She lifted him up gingerly and he walked in grievous pain to the stream bed. The boys were tied up behind the beaver dam. Kai was unconscious but Henry was wide awake.
"Miss Patty? Butch? My prayers were answered," Henry spoke in a hoarse voice, "Kai broke his cast. The man broke his crutches in half. Put the rag over his face to keep him from yelling so loud. Did to me too but I held my breath. Man headed up to the big house to get the ladies, have you seen them?"
"No but as soon as we get you safe, we will head back," as she cut the ropes. Henry stretched but kept protectively near Kai.
Butch quivered and groaned, "Ohhhhh,"
"Ok boys, I need to help Mista Butch."
She tore her petticoat for a bandage and rolled him on his stomach, "Wish I had some whiskey but I will make a poultice of these leaves at least to stop the bleeding."
She gave him a stick to bite and rolled him to his stomach, "Here we go."
The stick snapped in two and flew out of his mouth just as she pulled the knife from his back. She quickly staunched the wound with her bandage with leaves. She rubbed his shoulders.
"Be still Butch. I have a gun if they come back. I want the bleeding to stop before we move."
He simply nodded his head. She then turned to Henry. He had a welp across his face from being slapped by the men. She checked the plaster cast of Kai and narrowed her eyes at the broken crutches. He moaned as she moved the leg. She straightened it out as best she could.
"Ok boys—we wait. If the bad guys come back I have a gun. Good guys should be the ones to find us." With confidence in her voice. She knew there was no way to move the unconscious Kai without harming his leg or Butch without starting the bleeding again—
—-&—-
Lisette crept down the back stairs with Anna and Grete close behind her. Lisette had the derringer and Anna the small rifle.
They heard a click at the top of the stairs and then again at the bottom.
"Well, well well. What do we have here?"
The man at the bottom of the stairs didn't respond but his footsteps came closer.
The man at the top laughed sadistically, "Miss Franklin, you need to come upstairs—if you want to see that boy of yours again. If you are real nice, you will get him back with all his fingers and toes—-iffn not."
She gasped unintentionally and Grete began to cry. Anna held the gun tightly waiting on Lisette to respond.
A few minutes passed, Lisette volunteered, "I will come."