Jack Caldwell - Pemberley Ranch

Whitehead could feel the eyes of Pyke and Collins on him, waiting for him to take control of the situation. The problem was Whitehead was out of ideas. His talent was in strategic planning; the tactics he left to people like Collins and Denny. All he had left was his powers of persuasion. Whitehead had to be careful now with Denny. One wrong word and he could end up dead.

“Denny, I know how you feel. I want what’s coming to me, too. But it’s those people that stand between us and our riches! Railroad money, Denny! Cash on the barrelhead! You heard my friend in Fort Worth. This is for real. But without this farm, the railroad won’t be coming here. I’ll lose everything!

“You’re lucky. This thing falls apart, you’re no worse off than before. Hell, you’ve had it pretty good, haven’t you? Two meals a day, a dry bed at night, liquor, women. Sure, you had to ride some cattle, but it’s better than how it was in Missouri, right?

“But me—I’ve got my whole life riding on this. This blows up, I’m done, and so is Collins here. But we can still win! We can still get everything we’ve ever wanted! But we got to finish the job tonight!”

Whitehead held his breath, wondering if Denny believed him. The gunfighter stared a hole through him and then holstered his gun. “All right—how?”

Whitehead exhaled, knowing he had placated Denny for now. “Look, I got you the railroad. You tell me what to do now. This is your province, bushwhacker.”

Denny rocked back on his heels and thought. “Only way to git them people out is to burn ’em out.”

Pyke groaned. “We tried that!”

“No!” Denny snapped. “Not the right way! What we need here is a wagon, filled with hay. Set that sucker on fire, an’ push it against the side o’ the house. That’ll git ’em! The wagon’ll shield us from their guns, so they can’t stop us. Once that place is burnin’ we just wait ’til they start runnin’ like rabbits. Shoot ’em as they come out the door.”

“But,” Pyke complained, “we ain’t got a wagon.”

Denny pointed towards the barn. “I’ll betcha there’s one in there! We just gotta go git it!”

Whitehead frowned. “There’s got to be people in there. No way they would’ve left it undefended.”

“Right. That’s th’ problem.”

Whitehead sat back for a moment, considering. He glanced around the wheelbarrow at the house again. “What time is it, Collins?”

The banker pulled out his pocket watch. “It’s hard to read… about four.”

“Fuck!” cried Denny. “We’ll be sittin’ ducks after th’ sun comes up.”

“Sunrise in little over an hour…” Whitehead said half to himself. “Denny, would you say that house faced due east?”

Denny looked around. “Sure looks that way. So?”

Whitehead turned to him. “So, the sun will be in their eyes, right?”

Denny thought about it and grinned. “Yeah. They won’t see nothin’.”

“That’s when we make our move—right at sunrise. Half of us will take the barn while the rest will lay down covering fire. Once you secure the wagon, we’ll finish ’em off.”

“That might work,” Denny allowed.

Whitehead laughed. “Of course, it’s going to work! So, let’s get ready. Denny, pick the men you trust to take that barn. Pyke, take a couple of fellows and try to round up what horses you can. I thought I saw mine wandering around over by the chicken coop. Collins, go help him.”

Collins started. “But I don’t like horses!”

“Damn momma’s boy,” grumbled Pyke. “Get your ass up and help me.”

Whitehead watched as the others left to fulfill their duties. As he reloaded his Colt, he began to think again about the finale of his grand scheme, and what he was going to do about an increasingly unstable Kid Denny. He had hired the gunslinger to enforce his will, but Denny’s usefulness was quickly coming to an end. Denny would have to die, he knew, but not just yet. Once this job was done and the Bennet Farm was firmly in hand, there was still the matter of Will Darcy, Richard Fitzwilliam, and Pemberley Ranch.

Whitehead grinned. All that was needed to take care of those two was one little ambush, and that was something at which Denny excelled. Then, nothing would stop George Whitehead. He would get both Pemberley and the B&R. He would be King of Long Branch County.

He glanced at the eastern sky as it slowly began to lighten.

Mrs. Bennet was able to brew a little coffee for the defenders of the homestead, and Beth volunteered to share a mug with William. Bennet just chuckled and kept watch outside as the two lovers enjoyed a moment to themselves.

Darcy sipped the coffee as he sat on the floor with Beth curled up against him, her curly hair soft on his cheek. He handed her the mug, which she accepted thankfully. She returned the cup after having her fill and said in a hesitant voice, “Will… I…”

He quieted her with soothing sounds and stroking of her tresses. “Hush, darlin’—there’s nothing to say.”

“Yes, there is. I love you, Will.”

He kissed the top of her head. “And I love you too, Beth. My one wish is that you, your mother, and your sisters were safely out of here.”

She hugged him tight. “And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

He grinned slightly. “Now, that’s a damn fool thing to say, Miss Bennet.”

She looked him in the eye. “Will Darcy, shut up and kiss me.” Knowing the place and time to be about as inappropriate as it could be, Will and Beth shared a chaste, quick peck on the lips. It still drew a glance of disapproval from Mary.

Bennet didn’t want to steal whatever time the two had left, but there were things Darcy needed to know. “Umm… sun’s starting to come up, Will.”

Instantly, the lovesick Will was replaced by the stern Master of Pemberley. Darcy kissed Beth’s forehead and retrieved his rifle. He crouched low as he stole a peek out the window. “It sure is. Any movement?”

“I haven’t seen anything,” Bennet replied. By now, Beth had returned to her post, Winchester in hand.

José cut in. “I think I saw some hombres moving near the barn, boss.”

“Right.” Darcy had learned over the years to trust his people. If José said he thought he saw something, then Darcy could count on it. “Peter, look alive over there,” he called out softly to his right. “There’s some activity towards the barn.”

“Yes, sir… yeah, people are movin’, Mr. Darcy.” There was the sound of a cocking rifle. “Looks like we’re gonna get busy again.”

Darcy took command. “All right, I figure they’re going to try to take the barn. We’ll probably take some fire as they try to distract us. Look alive. Our boys in the barn are going to need our help. Don’t waste shots—try to make every one count.”

“Boss!” cried José. “Look! Riders comin’ in!”

Darcy looked out, his heart sinking. Sure enough, in the half-light of the dawn, dust was rising from the east. Men on horseback were coming from the main road.

“Any chance those are your people, Will?” asked Bennet.

“No, I’m afraid not,” he admitted. They couldn’t be Pemberley riders. He had been firm with Fitz about that. Fitzwilliam was to command the defense of the ranch, and nobody was to leave until Darcy returned. Those riders could only be reinforcements from the B&R. The odds against those trapped in the farmhouse just got longer.

Bennet sighed. “Didn’t think so.”

Darcy gritted his teeth, for he knew the possibility of them holding out now were practically nil. It had been a long road from Vicksburg, and he didn’t want it to end this way, now that he had found Beth. But there was nothing for it. No retreat, no surrender—he would have to kill or be killed. If this was to be his last stand, it would be a memorable one. He would make those bastards pay.

Darcy sang out, “Look sharp, boys! They’re on the move! You see somebody or something, shoot it! Let’s send those sons-of-bitches to hell!”

A Rebel Yell arose from all those assembled—even the Bennets joined in. Darcy and his people bore down to face the final act of what folks in future times would call the Battle of Thompson Crossing.

Pyke and Collins had recovered several horses and had placed them in a small corral near the chicken coop. Once the pair returned, Denny judged that it was time to begin getting the men into place, as the sunrise was almost upon them. Pyke was sent to tell the others to prepare to move in; Denny would arrive soon to begin the assault. Whitehead would be in charge of the distraction.