forgotten for the moment.
Shoulders heaving, she read again what she had written, decided it was wrong, wadded up the paper and threw it. A second note was more calmly written and more succinct:
To Mr. Sil Jaudon, Hotel Blake, Austin, Texas
Good work. Newspaper here will carry story. My job. You stay. Make sure Captain notice sent to Hangar and Opat. Nowhere else. I do not think Poe will react. He is a political man. See Temple arrested. Keep me informed about Poe. I have a plan. H.
After completing the telegram message, she wrote a succinct offer to buy the Morgan Peale Ranch, another to buy the Charlie Carlson Ranch and a third to buy the Gardner Ranch. All four messages were folded, placed in separate envelopes and sealed. She stood and shook her freed hair, letting it sway on her shoulders. Slowly she redressed as if it were an everyday occurrence. Leaving the room and locking it behind her, she found Elliott and told him to find Tapan Moore and have him come to her immediately.
While she waited, Lady Holt strolled over to the liquor cabinet and poured herself a small glass of brandy. It was, indeed, a day to celebrate.
It wasn’t long before the curly-haired gunfighter strolled into the main room. A toothy smile brightened his square-jawed face. His confident walk told everything about him.He was as good with a gun as he was as a lover. Lady Holt’s current lover.
“Mornin’, m’lady,” he said cheerfully, and smiled.
“And to you, Tapan.” She laid her glass on the cabinet shelf and studied his handsome face. “I have an assignment for you.”
His face showed disappointment. Their private times had always been in the crimson room.
“Whatever you wish. I shall do.”
She smiled, ran her fingers through her long hair and told him what he was to do. First, he was to deliver the message to the telegraph office for transmission and wait for a reply. Afterward, he was to go to Judge Opat and show him the three letters, then ride to each ranch and present them.
“You think they’re going to sell?” he asked, taking the envelopes.
“Of course not. But I want to be on record having offered.”
“Sure. Makes good sense,” Tapan Moore said, backing toward the door. “Should I stay with the boys…guarding Gardner’s place?”
“No. Come back when you’re finished.” She licked her lower lip. “So we can celebrate.” She pulled him toward her, kissed his lips gently and smiled. “Oh, by the way, you’re now a Texas Ranger. Jaudon’s captain of the Special Force. When he returns, we’ll take that old sonvabitch’s place by force.”
Moore shook his head and whistled.
“Yes, ma’am!” He grinned and spun around, closing the door behind him as he left.
Slowly, she returned to the phoenix display and sat down. Another knock on the door brought a smile this time, instead of anger. Probably Tapan wanting another kiss before he left.
“Oh, all right. Just one more. Come on in—” She opened the door and stopped midway through her sentence as she realized Eleven Meade was standing there, not Tapan Moore.
His light blue eyes sparkled from realizing whom she had expected. He had passed the young paramour in the hallway; her affair with Tapan Moore was well known on the ranch. Meade touched his mustache with his delicate fingers. As he removed his bowler, blond hair washed over his shoulders.
Physically, he resembled his father; both looked like blond scarecrows. His stern manner, like his mother’s, made him a difficult man to like, but he didn’t care. Any sense of humor he might have was kept well in check. As did his mother. As if to show a smile was to reveal a weakness of character.
“I came for my money,” he said with no thought of apologizing for his interruption. “John Checker is dead.”
She bit her lip again, not believing her wondrous luck this day. “John…Checker…dead? Come in. Come in. I want to hear all about it. Don’t leave out a single detail.”
She poured
Shoulders heaving, she read again what she had written, decided it was wrong, wadded up the paper and threw it. A second note was more calmly written and more succinct:
To Mr. Sil Jaudon, Hotel Blake, Austin, Texas
Good work. Newspaper here will carry story. My job. You stay. Make sure Captain notice sent to Hangar and Opat. Nowhere else. I do not think Poe will react. He is a political man. See Temple arrested. Keep me informed about Poe. I have a plan. H.
After completing the telegram message, she wrote a succinct offer to buy the Morgan Peale Ranch, another to buy the Charlie Carlson Ranch and a third to buy the Gardner Ranch. All four messages were folded, placed in separate envelopes and sealed. She stood and shook her freed hair, letting it sway on her shoulders. Slowly she redressed as if it were an everyday occurrence. Leaving the room and locking it behind her, she found Elliott and told him to find Tapan Moore and have him come to her immediately.
While she waited, Lady Holt strolled over to the liquor cabinet and poured herself a small glass of brandy. It was, indeed, a day to celebrate.
It wasn’t long before the curly-haired gunfighter strolled into the main room. A toothy smile brightened his square-jawed face. His confident walk told everything about him.He was as good with a gun as he was as a lover. Lady Holt’s current lover.
“Mornin’, m’lady,” he said cheerfully, and smiled.
“And to you, Tapan.” She laid her glass on the cabinet shelf and studied his handsome face. “I have an assignment for you.”
His face showed disappointment. Their private times had always been in the crimson room.
“Whatever you wish. I shall do.”
She smiled, ran her fingers through her long hair and told him what he was to do. First, he was to deliver the message to the telegraph office for transmission and wait for a reply. Afterward, he was to go to Judge Opat and show him the three letters, then ride to each ranch and present them.
“You think they’re going to sell?” he asked, taking the envelopes.
“Of course not. But I want to be on record having offered.”
“Sure. Makes good sense,” Tapan Moore said, backing toward the door. “Should I stay with the boys…guarding Gardner’s place?”
“No. Come back when you’re finished.” She licked her lower lip. “So we can celebrate.” She pulled him toward her, kissed his lips gently and smiled. “Oh, by the way, you’re now a Texas Ranger. Jaudon’s captain of the Special Force. When he returns, we’ll take that old sonvabitch’s place by force.”
Moore shook his head and whistled.
“Yes, ma’am!” He grinned and spun around, closing the door behind him as he left.
Slowly, she returned to the phoenix display and sat down. Another knock on the door brought a smile this time, instead of anger. Probably Tapan wanting another kiss before he left.
“Oh, all right. Just one more. Come on in—” She opened the door and stopped midway through her sentence as she realized Eleven Meade was standing there, not Tapan Moore.
His light blue eyes sparkled from realizing whom she had expected. He had passed the young paramour in the hallway; her affair with Tapan Moore was well known on the ranch. Meade touched his mustache with his delicate fingers. As he removed his bowler, blond hair washed over his shoulders.
Physically, he resembled his father; both looked like blond scarecrows. His stern manner, like his mother’s, made him a difficult man to like, but he didn’t care. Any sense of humor he might have was kept well in check. As did his mother. As if to show a smile was to reveal a weakness of character.
“I came for my money,” he said with no thought of apologizing for his interruption. “John Checker is dead.”
She bit her lip again, not believing her wondrous luck this day. “John…Checker…dead? Come in. Come in. I want to hear all about it. Don’t leave out a single detail.”
She poured
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