“Congratulations, Denny,” Phillips raised his glass. “Come by the office tomorrow for your swearing in. That was a pretty good idea of mine, wasn’t it?”

Denny laughed. “Never thought I’d be wearin’ a badge. Lookin’ forward to it.”

Whitehead sipped his drink thoughtfully. “Don’t let it go to your head, my friend. Remember what I told you—we can’t afford any more incidents.”

“Look, I took care of them Washingtons, didn’t I?” Denny sneered. Phillips looked away, and Whitehead narrowed his eyes.

“Yes, you did. You also failed to corral that hotheaded Thorpe. He almost caused a confrontation with Darcy, and we’re not ready for that.” Whitehead held up his hand as Denny tried to respond. “Look, everything is still going according to plan. The bank has the properties back. In a few months, this will all be over.” Whitehead rose from his chair. “We’re right where we need to be. We’re this far from total success,” he held two fingers about an inch apart, “but we must do nothing to put this deal off. No more violence. We’ll handle Darcy later, once we’re in complete control. Be patient, Denny, and get hold of your men.”

Denny finished his drink and nodded. “All right. I’ll go join the boys at Sally’s. Make sure they don’t cause another incident.” He put on his hat and left the office.

“I’ll be leaving, too,” said Phillips. “I have a breakfast meeting with Cate. Will you be joining us?”

“Not tomorrow. I’ll see her later. ’Night, Alton.” The three watched the judge leave the building.

“Think he suspects anything?” asked Collins.

Whitehead smiled. “No. You heard what that fool said. He took my suggestion for deputizing Denny and made it his own. Everything is proceeding as we planned. All of the land in the new settlement is back under our control. Everything is in place. Gentlemen, we’ve won.”

“Not everything,” Collins pointed out. “There’s still one last piece.”

“True, but that’ll be no trouble. All I have to do is close my hand, and it’ll fall to us.”

Pyke was nervous. “What about Darcy? He just about called you out.”

Whitehead chuckled. “Don’t worry about Mr. Darcy, strutting around with his land and money. That half-breed doesn’t even recognize when he’s been outmaneuvered. He’s powerless to stop us. If he causes any trouble, I can call for the weight of the government in Austin to fall upon him. Pemberley will just be ours sooner than anticipated.”

Whitehead walked over to the window. “No, gentlemen, as long as we’re patient, we’ve won. We now control the destiny of Long Branch County.”

Chapter 14

September

Things changed in the weeks following the lynchings, as a cloud of fear and suspicion descended upon the town of Rosings. Unnecessary gatherings were curtailed, and events like the Ladies’ Musical Society meetings fell apart. Rather than the heat of battle, a cold mistrust pervaded the place as the people divided themselves into two camps: those who believed the tale of the roving band of Klansmen, and those who did not. The official explanation of the crime was championed by George Whitehead and Judge Phillips. Those who harbored doubts looked to William Darcy for leadership. Sheriff Lucas was caught in the middle.

Mr. Bennet kept his opinions to himself, refusing to discuss the doings in town with his family except to strictly enforce new rules around the farm. None of the women, including Mrs. Bennet, could go anywhere out of the house alone; they had to be accompanied by at least one other. Trips to town for any reason except supplies and church were forbidden. And he and Hill worked the barn and fields armed.

It was frustrating to Beth because the father she adored, a man who had always been open with her, was now silent and unbending. Nothing she did could convince him to talk about what was worrying him, but she knew he was worried; it was plain to see in his eyes. He worked from sunup to sundown, taking his meals in the fields and retiring to his study after supper. Beth could see that her mother, too, was at a loss to ease her father’s cares. So the family continued on as they had always done: they did their chores—only now they were done in silence. Only Lily seemed insensible to the strained atmosphere.

Try as he might, Bennet could not make his farm completely self-sufficient. Supplies were still needed from town. Most of the time he himself would take the wagon in, but one day the harvest was in full swing and none of the male hands could be excused. As the supplies were desperately needed, it was reluctantly agreed that Beth would journey to town that day with Lily keeping her company, the family shotgun in a box beneath the seat.

Instructed to go directly to Zimmerman’s and back, the girls passed the Bingley place without stopping. Lily kept up an endless stream of inane conversation to which Beth paid little mind. She was struck, instead, at how empty the streets of Rosings were. Usually at that time of day, people would be everywhere—working, shopping, or just visiting. Now the place resembled a ghost town.

The wagon team secured, Beth and Lily entered the general store. The place was empty; the small bell on the door alerted Mr. and Mrs. Zimmerman that customers had arrived. Obviously happy to have patrons, Zimmerman took the list of supplies Beth handed him and left to fill the order, leaving his wife to keep the girls company.

“Oh, we’re so happy to see you!” Mrs. Zimmerman said after exchanging the usual pleasantries. “Everything in town has been very… quiet. No one comes around anymore. We can see the smithy across the street, and it’s the same there. Business is bad.” She shook her head. “With that last family leaving the new settlement after that Washington family got killed, we see nobody. Everyone is so scared.”

She lowered her voice. “Some people say that the reason that black man was killed was that he took advantage of a white woman back east. That’s why those Klansmen came here.”

Beth blanched and turned, assuring herself that Lily was still looking at fabric samples on the other side of the store and was out of earshot. Beth did not want her sister to hear of such a story, for Lily was a bigger gossip even than their mother. She returned to the storekeeper’s wife.

“Mrs. Zimmerman, I never heard any such thing. Who said that about Mr. Washington?”

“Umm, I overheard one of Mr. Denny’s men—Thorpe, I think it was—say that,” the woman admitted.

Beth grew angry as she recalled the confrontation at the cemetery. Thorpe was the leader of the men who tried to stop the funeral. “I wouldn’t put too much stock in what Mr. Thorpe has to say. The Washingtons were members of our church, remember, and no one had a bad word to say about them.”

“True.” The woman was abashed. “They always paid cash— never asked for credit. And they were always respectful to me. Maybe Washington was confused with someone else? Yes, that must be what happened. Slaves all look the same to me and, I guess, to most folks. Oh, it’s awful, just awful! Those poor people. I can’t stop thinking about that poor little boy.”

Beth was both touched and frustrated with Mrs. Zimmerman. It seemed the woman was casting about for any explanation of the tragedy that would prove it was done by outsiders. The alternative was apparently too frightening for her to contemplate.

The alternative had occupied Beth’s mind since the funeral. The actions of the B&R hands like Denny, Thorpe, and Wilkerson—all members of Denny’s gang—seemed to point to a very frightening conclusion. Denny and his people seemed capable of perpetrating the outrage; they had been members of Quantrill’s infamous Raiders after all. The last few weeks had challenged Beth’s deeply held beliefs about the war, but her opinion of bushwhackers had been justified by unimpeachable sources: Confederate veterans like William and Fitz were disgusted by bushwhackers and disavowed their actions. She felt safe to mistrust Denny.

This led her thoughts to George Whitehead. Beth could not shake the nagging feeling that it wasn’t a matter of whether George was involved in the killings of the Washingtons, but how much. Casting her eyes on Mrs. Zimmerman, she assumed the same thoughts had occurred to her.

Just then, the front door bell rang, the woman before her blanched, and Beth’s conjectures were proven correct.

“George!” cried Lily.

Beth turned to see George Whitehead close the door. With unclouded eyes, Beth could now see things in him that she had missed before. George was undeniably a good-looking man, but there was a hardness in his eyes that his smile could never completely hide. His confident walk was more like an arrogant swagger. He had nothing good to say about anyone who was not of use to him, and he demanded deference from others through fear.

Will Darcy didn’t do that, Beth realized. William earned the admiration of others by his deeds.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” Whitehead said, tipping his hat. “Doing some shopping, I see?”

Lily answered him. “Yes, Father sent us to pick up some supplies. It’s been so boring lately! Father won’t let us go anywhere. Maybe you could talk to him?”

“Lily,” Beth calmly admonished her. “I’m sure George is far too busy for such a silly request. With things being as they are in town,” she turned to Whitehead as she spoke, “Father is only being properly cautious in seeing we’re fully protected.”

“Very wise of him,” Whitehead drawled.

Beth continued. “It’s uncomfortable to work a field with a gun belt on, but such are the days we’re living in now.” For some reason, Beth felt she had to give Whitehead the gentle warning. The slight narrowing of his eyes showed that the message was received.