When Love Comes (22 page)

Broc replied with cool confidence, “There’s no one who could make such an accusation against me because it isn’t true.”

“It’s someone who knew you during the war.” Purdy was clearly enjoying his feeling of power. “He’s known every move you’ve made since then.”

“Purdy says the man was a spy for the Union during the war,” Amanda told Broc.

Having expected Broc to laugh in Purdy’s face, Amanda was shocked to see Broc lose color, his expression change from calm indifference to anger in a matter of seconds.

“Was this person Laveau di Viere?” Broc asked.

“That’s exactly who it was.” Purdy appeared to think Broc’s response was proof of his guilt.

“Laveau di Viere fought for the Confederacy,” Broc said.

“He was a spy for the Union,” Purdy said.

“For three years he was a member of a Confederate cavalry troop that raided Union supply depots, blew up trains, stole payrolls, did anything we could to disrupt Union forces,” Broc stated. “When he realized the Union was going to win the war, he betrayed his troop. He murdered the lookout,
stole his best friend’s money, and left us to be murdered in our sleep. He’s a liar, a thief, a cattle rustler, and is wanted in California for kidnapping and attempted murder. He’s an outcast even to his own family.”

Purdy grinned. “I wouldn’t expect you to speak highly of a man of principle.”

“The only
principle
Laveau adheres to is improving his situation by whatever means possible.”

“We’re wasting time,” Purdy said. “You got to come with us.”

“Why?”

“To answer questions about this charge,” Bryce said.

“Laveau has been following the surviving members of our troop ever since the war, trying to do anything he could to discredit us or cause trouble.”

“You’ll get your chance to speak.”

If Purdy’s sly grin was any indication, Amanda felt certain he’d already decided Broc was guilty. “What will happen to him?” she asked.

“That’ll be up to the army to decide.” Purdy appeared to enjoy considering the possible punishments. “If he’s guilty, he’ll go to jail. If the charges are serious enough, he might be hanged.” He stepped toward Broc.

“I’m not going with you,” Broc said. “You don’t care that Laveau is a liar. I doubt you’ll make any attempt to discover his reputation or verify his statements.”

The sound of a rifle being cocked drew all eyes. “It’s time for you boys to leave.” Dan had emerged from the house, rifle pointed directly at Purdy. “You’ve got no business here.”

Purdy’s smile was sinister. “No point in kicking up a fuss. If you don’t come quiet, you’ll come hard. The army will take a dim view when I tell them about what’s happened here today.”

“I don’t think you’ll do that, Purdy Beamis. In fact, I think
you and Bryce will go back to Cactus Bend and never say a word to anybody about why you came here.”

Amanda wasn’t the only one who was as surprised by her mother’s words.

“Begging your pardon, Miz Liscomb, but we can’t do that,” Purdy said. “We got our duty to do.”

“I guess you do,” Amanda’s mother said, “but you’ll understand if I feel the same way about my duty.”

Purdy’s smile stayed in place, but it faltered a bit. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just yesterday Mrs. Carruthers was explaining to me the way the ironclad oath is being applied by the army these days,” her mother told Purdy. “She said it’s interpreted to mean that anyone who’s ever been a mayor, school trustee, clerk, public weigher, even a cemetery sexton during or
before
the war is disenfranchised. I would think that would also include being barred from working for the Reconstruction government. Your bosses might be angry that you and Bryce have lied to them about fighting for the Confederacy.”

Purdy’s smile bloomed again. “I
never
fought for the Confederacy.”

“You and Bryce both signed up when Texas seceded. My husband saw you. I remember him saying two more worthless soldiers would be difficult to find.” Her mother stepped forward until she could look Purdy directly in the eye. “If a Union army captain were to begin to look into your activities during the war, I don’t think it would be difficult to convince him that your loyalties were still with the Confederacy, maybe even that you spied for Texas during the war. My husband said you delivered guns and supplies to Texas troops.”

Purdy had never had much color, but now he looked white. Bryce had turned a dull red.

“Mrs. Carruthers told me that the man in charge of the
army in Dallas has a reputation for being the most diligent officer in Texas for finding hidden sympathizers. And for being most severe in handling their cases.”

“He wouldn’t believe any accusation made by a woman,” Purdy said.

“Don’t be a fool,” Bryce said. “He’d believe anything said against a Texan. Only last month he—”

“I know what he did,” Purdy said.

“Then you know what he’d do to us if he found out we lied to him.”

“I know both your families,” Amanda’s mother said. “I have no wish to cause them any heartache. All I ask is that you forget everything this Laveau person said. No one can believe the word of a traitor.”

Purdy was angry at having to back down, but it was just as clear Bryce was anxious to leave as fast as possible.

“I had my doubts about his accusations,” Bryce told her mother. “He seemed to be going out of his way to provide information.”

“He went all the way to California to cause trouble,” Broc said. “He wouldn’t hesitate to cross half of Texas.”

“We can overlook it this time,” Purdy said, “but if he comes back again—”

“We’ll know not to believe a word he says.” Bryce directed his gaze and words at Purdy. “Sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Kincaid.”

Amanda strove to calm her nerves as she watched Purdy and Bryce mount up and ride away. Broc’s narrow escape from the jaws of the Reconstruction forces had her heart beating double time.

“Thank you,” Broc said to her mother. “Everything Laveau di Viere said was untrue, but that wouldn’t have stopped the Army. The actions of some officers have been nothing short of criminal.”

“You told me you didn’t like Broc,” Eddie said to his mother. “You said you hoped the judge would put him in jail. Why did you help him?”

It took her mother several seconds to regain her composure, but when she did, she turned to Broc rather than Eddie.

“I haven’t been fair to you. I was angry at you over this business of the debt, but you’ve behaved very well. Though I don’t like Amanda spending so much time with you, I do appreciate your efforts to help us with the ranch. It’s a great misfortune that your face has been so badly disfigured. It gives you quite a hideous appearance.”

“Mother!” Amanda couldn’t believe her mother would say something so cruel.

“I was about to say that people are likely to be quite mistaken in their estimation of his character. As I was.” Her mother turned back to Broc. “I’m sorry for the things I’ve said and done. I’m quite ashamed of myself.”

Amanda wouldn’t have believed this could be happening if she hadn’t witnessed it. Her mother
never
apologized or admitted she could have made a mistake.

“You don’t have to apologize, Mrs. Liscomb,” Broc said. “You’ve been under a great deal of stress. It’s understandable that you would distrust anyone who threatened to make your situation worse.”

“I didn’t just distrust you. I disliked you. I can’t forgive myself for that.”

Before Amanda could think of something to say, another rider came into view.

“That’s Russell, one of the hands on Carruthers’s ranch,” Dan said.

“What could he be doing here?”

“Whatever it is, it can’t be good,” her mother said. “I was not mistaken in my assessment of Carruthers’s character.”

As he drew close, Amanda noticed Russell’s horse was
lathered. Whatever the reason for his visit, it had caused him to ride hard. He rode his horse up to the porch before stopping. He spoke to Dan without dismounting.

“Charlie told Carruthers he saw the bull that belongs to these folks down by the lake the creek makes when it rains.” He glanced briefly at Amanda before turning back to Dan. “Carruthers grabbed his rifle and rode out. He said he was going to put an end to this problem once and for all.”

Dan had shown them the shortest route to the swampy area where Carruthers had tried to brand the calves.

“Surely he doesn’t intend to shoot the bull,” Amanda said to Broc.

Probably not, but Broc had reached the conclusion Carruthers was mentally unstable. In his opinion, no sane man would attack his daughter in public or destroy her music just because she wanted to sing. “Ask Dan. He knows the man better.” The three of them were riding abreast, with Russell on his tired mount trailing behind.

“His wanting to buy your ranch has gotten to be about more than adding additional land to his spread,” Dan said. “He’s like a child who’s been denied something he wants. He’ll do anything he can to get it.”

“I don’t see how killing the bull would help him do that,” Amanda said.

Broc did. Getting rid of the bull would ruin the Liscombs.

Several cows with calves were grazing in the meadows bordering the creek and the lake when they arrived, but they saw no sign of Carruthers or the bull.

“Maybe he couldn’t find the bull,” Amanda said.

“He could have changed his mind.” Russell had caught up once they stopped. “Maybe he was just mad and said the first thing that came to mind.”

“He has always had a tendency to fly off the handle when things don’t go his way,” Dan said.

“I hope you’re right,” Broc said, “but I’ll feel better once we find the bull and get it back in its pasture. I think it’s time we put a padlock on that gate.”

The words were hardly out of his mouth when he heard rifle fire. It was quickly followed by three more shots.

“That many shots makes it sound like someone is hunting,” Amanda said.

“They’d better not let Carruthers find them,” Dan said.

“I think we ought to check out the rifle shots,” Broc said. “If it is a stray hunter, we need to warn him about Carruthers.”

The rifle fire continued sporadically while they skirted several dense thickets of trees, vines, brush, and swamp grass. They found Carruthers on a small rise of ground surrounded by a marsh thick with bulrushes. The bullet-riddled carcass of the bull lay less than ten yards away.

Amanda gasped. “My God! He did kill the bull.”

Even as they rode toward him, Carruthers shot twice more into the carcass of the dead animal. He seemed unaware of their existence as they rode up.

“I don’t think he’s in his right mind,” Broc said. “I’m going to try to get the rifle away from him.”

“Let me,” Dan said. “He hates you so much he might turn the rifle on you.”

Broc wasn’t sure Carruthers liked Dan any better.

“Maybe I ought to try,” Amanda said. “He has no reason to want to hurt me.”

Broc wasn’t willing to risk it. Amanda’s family owned the land Carruthers wanted. And Amanda was responsible for Priscilla’s singing in the saloon and having a place to stay when her father was furious at her. “Do you have a rifle?” Broc asked Russell.

The young man nodded.

“If you think Carruthers is about to shoot one of us, get him first.”

The man blanched but nodded.

It turned out to be no problem to disarm Carruthers. He shot the bull once more but didn’t object when Broc took the rifle from his hands.

“That’s one problem taken care of,” he said to Broc.

Broc couldn’t resist asking, “How is that?”

“They
have
to sell me the ranch now.”

Carruthers acted as though what he’d done was of no more consequence than getting rid of a lobo wolf that had been preying on his calves. Broc looked at the bullet-riddled body of the bull. “Why did you need to shoot it so many times?”

“It wouldn’t die,” Carruthers said. “It kept getting up. I had to keep shooting until it would stay down.” Carruthers got up from where he’d been sitting on a decaying log. “I’ve got to go see Grace, tell her the bull is out of the way so she can sell the ranch to me now.”

Carruthers started walking, but he wasn’t headed in the direction of his ranch house or his horse, which was ground hitched a few yards away. Broc handed Carruthers’s rifle to Dan. He took the man by the arm and guided him toward his horse.

“What are you going to do?” Dan asked.

“Take him home,” Broc said. “It’ll be up to his wife to decide what should be done next.”

It was as if another man had taken possession of Carruthers’s body. There was none of the belligerence, the violence, the anger that could blaze into hatred, but Broc had had enough experience with soldiers who had gone into shock to know Carruthers’s mood might change at any time. It was important to get him home and send for a doctor.

“What’s wrong with him?” Russell asked. The boy looked as bewildered as he was shocked.

“I’d guess he’s lost contact with reality,” Broc said.

“What caused it?” Amanda asked.

“Maybe he felt so strongly about everything, his mind couldn’t hold up under the strain.”

But what could make Carruthers—a man with the shrewdness and doggedness to claw his way to a position of wealth and influence—suddenly go crazy? Why would he keep shooting the bull long after it was dead?

“What will happen to the ranch?”

Broc thought that wasn’t an appropriate question, but he figured Russell was too young and too shocked to be thinking clearly. “That will be for Mrs. Carruthers and Priscilla to decide.” A thought occurred to him, and he glanced over at Dan. “I expect one of the first things they’ll do is rehire their foreman.”

It amused him to see Dan color.

The ride to Carruthers’s ranch house was uneventful. Carruthers talked the whole way, often saying things that made no sense or were unconnected to his previous remarks. The thread woven through his rambling was that the elimination of the bull would solve everyone’s problems. He seemed to believe he had behaved like Solomon in finding a solution that was best for everyone. Broc reflected that the outcome wouldn’t have been any different if he’d cut the bull in half rather than shooting it.

Mrs. Carruthers came out to meet them when they reached the ranch house. Carruthers didn’t wait for Broc to help him dismount. He threw his leg across, slid from the saddle, and ran over to embrace his wife.

“I’ll get the Lazy T now. The bull is dead.”

It took several minutes to guide Carruthers inside. He refused to go to his bedroom, but he did allow himself to be settled into a deep chair by the window.

“What happened?” his wife asked.

Broc was relieved and pleased when she turned to Dan rather than to him.

“He killed the Liscombs’ bull,” Dan said. “Shot it at least a dozen times after he knew it was dead.”

Mrs. Carruthers looked at her husband, then back at Dan. “Do you think he’s all right in his mind?”

“No.”

“Will he get better?”

“I don’t know. Broc has more experience with this sort of thing than I do.”

“He could suddenly snap out of it, go in and out, or never recover,” Broc said when Mrs. Carruthers turned to him. “It’s most likely, however, that he’ll recover if he gets plenty of rest. But this is only speculation. I’m not a doctor.”

She turned to Dan. “Will you come back to work for us?”

“Of course.”

Mrs. Carruthers’s relief was obvious. She turned to Amanda. “I’m so sorry about your bull. I don’t know anything about my husband’s financial matters, but I hope we’ll be able to buy you another one.”

Broc thought it best if he and Amanda left as quickly as possible. The decisions Mrs. Carruthers had to make could be better made without them.

“What are you going to do now?” Broc asked Amanda as soon as they were back in the saddle and headed home. “If Carruthers recovers, he’ll never replace your bull. If he doesn’t, Mrs. Carruthers might not have the money to buy another.”

“And that’s only half the problem. Gary says there isn’t anything about the debt among Papa’s papers.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Broc said. “Even if your father didn’t trust banks, he would have made a record of a transaction of that importance. Where did he keep his cash?”

“He didn’t have any when he died.” Amanda laughed. “He always said if I needed money, I could depend on Mother’s
secretaire, which was his idea of a joke. He knew Mother would sell everything in the house before she would part with that desk. It’s supposed to have been owned by a distant English ancestor who claimed to be minor nobility. I think it’s a story somebody made up.”

“Which still leaves us with the problem of how to prove the debt belongs to Corby.”

“If you don’t give me the money right now, I’ll shoot you in the center of your black heart.”

“I don’t have that much money.”

Corby gaped at Mrs. Liscomb with wide, frightened eyes. She was furious, and she held a gun that was pointed at the center of Corby’s chest. She had backed him into a corner in his office, his thin, shapeless frame making him look more like a piece of room decoration than a human being.

Standing just outside the office door, Broc listened to the exchange in astonishment.

“Then find it. I don’t care where. Just get it.”

“I can’t go into the bank and expect them to hand over seven hundred dollars to pay for a dead bull.”

“If you’d paid for it, it wouldn’t be dead.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“Maybe not, but that won’t much matter if you’re dead.”

Broc would never have dreamed this overly decorous Southern lady could turn into a gun-wielding madwoman, but he should have known better than to underestimate the fury of a mother when she believed her family was threatened. He would have liked to see Mrs. Liscomb terrorize Corby a bit longer, but the look in her eyes made him decide to intervene.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing him dead, either, but we wouldn’t be able to get the money out of him then, would we?”

Mrs. Liscomb’s fury didn’t abate. “It would be worth it. My
husband trusted this man. I encouraged my daughter to marry him.”

“I still want to marry her,” Corby said. “I told her I’d take care of the ranch, of everything.”

His words served only to stoke Mrs. Liscomb’s anger. Corby’s eyes grew wide with fear when she jammed the gun into his breastbone. “I’d work in this saloon myself before I’d let her marry a loathsome piece of spawn like you.”

For a nice lady, she had a deadly way of phrasing insults. “I have no objection to your shooting Corby. Personally, I’d like to start with his legs and work my way around his body, being careful to avoid hitting anything that could actually kill him, but Amanda and Eddie wouldn’t be very happy to have to visit you in jail.”

“We could force him to open his safe,” she said. “He must have seven hundred dollars in there.”

“That would be robbery,” Corby said.

“Which would be only fair since you’ve robbed us,” Grace pointed out.

“I never took a cent from any of you,” Corby protested. “I paid Amanda more than twice what I paid anyone else.”

Mrs. Liscomb prodded him with the gun barrel. “Then fired her when she brought in more money than you’ve ever made in your miserable life.”

“Carruthers threatened to ruin me, to burn down the saloon.”

“You’re a coward, Corby Wilson. A liar, a thief, and a yellow-bellied coward. You deserve shooting, but you’re not worth going to jail for.”

Broc grinned. Apparently Mrs. Liscomb had picked up a few Texas-style insults. She was still pressing the gun against Corby’s chest when Amanda rushed into the room.

“Mother, what are you doing?”

“Trying to force this poor excuse for a man to honor his
obligations, but apparently Texans don’t believe in honor as much as people brought up in Mississippi.”

“I already said—”

“Silence!” Mrs. Liscomb poked Corby so sharply, he grimaced. “I’ve heard more than I want out of you.”

Broc was sorry for the mess Amanda’s family found itself in, but the crisis seemed to be working wonders on Mrs. Liscomb.

“You might as well let him go,” Amanda said.

“I’d much prefer to shoot him.”

“I think this would be a good time to renegotiate Amanda and Gary’s contract,” Broc suggested. “I believe you’ve got Corby’s full attention. They don’t actually have a contract, but I think it would be a good idea to put the agreement in writing this time. That would eliminate the possibility of Corby firing them any time he fell into a jealous fit.”

“I would never be jealous of a disfigured man like you,” Corby shouted.

Mrs. Liscomb poked him again. She appeared to like the way his eyes widened in fear each time she dug into his ribs. “That’s because you’re not smart enough to know Mr. Kin-caid’s a hundred times the man you’ll ever be.”

Broc was beginning to like Mrs. Liscomb more and more.

“I don’t want to work for Corby,” Amanda said.

“I think once you’ve had time to
look into things
”—Broc hoped she noticed his emphasis—“you’ll change your mind.”

Amanda gave him a hard, questioning look. “Only if he’ll agree to hire Broc as well.” Her expression didn’t change.

“I don’t want him,” Corby said.

Mrs. Liscomb poked him again. “You don’t get any say in this.”

“It’s my saloon.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that. Broc will find a way to prove you lied. Then I’ll take you to court. By the time I tell
the judge all the pain and heartache you’ve put me and my family through—I believe my appearing in court in widow’s weeds with tearstained, powdered cheeks will make a powerful impression—you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t give me the saloon outright.”

Broc nearly laughed aloud at Corby’s expression. It might be worth a few weeks in jail to see that confrontation.

“Gary gets his job back, Broc plays the piano, Priscilla gets to sing if she wants, and we can do any skit Broc writes.” Amanda looked Corby in the eye. “Those are my conditions. None is negotiable.”

Corby glared at Broc. “He said he was leaving.”

“He’ll be back.”

The way Amanda gazed at him tore at Broc’s heart. How could he tell her that the best thing he could do for her might be not to come back?

“Carruthers won’t let Priscilla come near the saloon,” Corby said.

“Carruthers is too ill to leave his bed,” Broc told Corby.