Hannibal Rising

13

Fargo was up early. He splashed water on his face and shrugged into his shirt, wincing from the bruises. Shoving his hat on his head, he went to strap on his gun belt, and remembered—no weapons were allowed. Reluctantly, he left the Colt on the bed. He left the Arkansas toothpick in its ankle sheath. No one knew he had it and he might need it before the twenty-four hours were up.

Fargo thought he would be the first outside but he was mistaken. Too much was at stake. They were all there, waiting for the shot that would start the hunt.

Tom and Cletus Brun were at the bottom of the steps and glared at him when he stepped into the rosy light of the chill dawn. Charlotte was nervously pacing, her cousin at her side. Apparently Amanda had changed her mind about taking part. Charles stood alone, wrapped in his thoughts. Roland was gazing over the woodland.

Samantha wore a coat. She greeted him with, “Good morning, Skye. I hope you slept well.”

“I wish.”

Sam looked around as if to be sure she wouldn’t be overheard and said, “It’s a shame we were interrupted yesterday. After this is over maybe we can take up where we left off.”

“Fargo was studying Cletus Brun. The big backwoodsman wasn’t wearing a revolver or a knife—that Fargo could see. But Brun’s clothes were loose and bulky and could easily conceal a weapon.

Sam stared in the direction Fargo was looking. “I heard about the fight. A servant found Mr. Brun lying in the stable. He refused to say what happened but we’ve all guessed. Tom was furious. He told Pickleman that you shouldn’t be allowed to take part in the hunt but Theodore said you hadn’t broken any of the rules.”

At that moment the lawyer emerged. He stifled a yawn, then said cheerfully, “Good morning. Is everyone ready for the day’s excitement?” He grinned, but no one else did. “Yes, well.” He consulted a pocket watch. “The hunt begins promptly at six. Another ten minutes yet.”

“Why not start it now?” Tom said. “We’re all here.”

“Your father stipulated six o’clock and six it will be. The conditions in the will must be met.”

“Leave it to you to be a stickler for Father’s nonsense.”

Pickleman tsked-tsked. “Really now. You can’t fault me for going by the letter of the law.”

“This whole thing is a farce,” Charles said. “Father has set it up so that we’re pitted against one another like roosters in a cockfight or dogs in a pit. He hated us so much, he wants to tear us apart from the grave.”

“It’s despicable,” Samantha said.

Pickleman sniffed and declared, “Whether anyone is harmed is entirely up to all of you. Conduct the hunt fairly or be underhanded and mean. It’s your choice.”

“Too much is at stake to be fair,” Tom said. “This isn’t an inheritance hunt. It’s a death hunt.”

Sam stepped forward and raised her arms to get their attention. “I want everyone to know that I don’t intend to fall for Father’s ruse. I refuse to harm any of you.”

Tom laughed. “You expect us to believe that?”

“Why wouldn’t you? I’ve always treated every one of you with the utmost respect. You know that, Thomas.”

“I know that with millions of dollars at stake I’d be a fool to trust you or any of the others. Siblings or not, it’s every man, or woman, for him- or herself, and the devil take the hindmost.”

“Exactly the attitude Father wanted to provoke.”

Tom smirked. “Then he’s succeeded. Make no mistake, dear sister. I want to win. I want the inheritance. If I lose, I lose everything. I’ll be left with the clothes on my back and nothing more. I can’t have that.”

“Nor I,” Charles said. “But I refuse to conduct the hunt like some animal. I won’t harm any of you if you don’t try to harm me.”

Sam smiled and nodded. “That’s two of us. How about you, Charlotte? Roland?”

Roland answered first. “I intend to keep to myself and expect the rest of you to do the same. Should I run into you in the woods I won’t lift a finger against you unless you lift one against me.”

Charlotte stopped her pacing. “I’d like to believe that none of us will hurt one another but Tom is right. Too much is at stake.” She looked at her brothers and her sister. “It’s not just that I want to win. I need to win. I need to find that damn chest because I refuse to be poor. I refuse to live like the common people do. I was born into luxury and I am going to go on living in luxury, the rest of you be damned.”

“Thank you for being honest with us,” Charles said dryly.

“Spare me your sarcasm,” Charlotte shot back. “You’re the same as me, what with your expensive men’s club and your expensive clothes and your expensive food and drink. You need to win as much as I do.”

“True,” Charles conceded. “But I refuse to stoop to Father’s level and resort to violence to do it.”

“Sweetness and love. Isn’t it glorious?” Tom laughed his brother to scorn. “All this is well and good but you’re forgetting a few things, dear brother, as Fargo pointed out yesterday. You’re forgetting Emmett, murdered by a killer who must have been hired by one of us. You’re forgetting that other pair of assassins who are undoubtedly out there somewhere right this minute, waiting to do us in.”

“I certainly didn’t hire them,” Samantha said.

“So you claim,” Tom rejoined. “But how can we be sure? Charles and Roland have both said they will play nice but how do we know one or both of them hasn’t paid to have the rest of us killed?”

“The same applies to you,” Charles said.

“That it does,” Tom agreed. “So it won’t do me any good to give you my word that the assassins aren’t my doing.”

“As if we would believe you anyway,” Charlotte said.

A strained silence fell, broken only when Sam turned to Theodore Pickleman. “I have a question about the hunt.”

“Anything I can answer, I will,” the lawyer assured her.

“Father said the chest is buried within half a mile of the lodge. Is that correct?”

“It is,” Pickleman verified.

“I’m not much good at judging distances. How will I know when I’ve gone half a mile? I could end up going farther and waste a lot of time I could put to better use.”

“Ah,” Pickleman said. “I forgot to tell you, didn’t I?”

“Tell us what?”

“Your father, as usual, thought of everything. Since he couldn’t very well have a fence built to mark the boundary, he stipulated the next best thing. Yesterday, servants rode out half a mile in every direction and marked trees and boulders and logs with red paint. Spot those and you’ll know to turn around.”

Charles said, “You can’t have marked every tree and boulder. We could easily miss them.”

“True,” Pickleman said. “As an added precaution, servants have been stationed at various points along the perimeter and will yell to any of you they see going past the half-mile mark.”

Charles gave a sudden start and blurted, “I’ll be damned.”

“What?” Pickleman asked.

“Nothing,” Charles said. “I was thinking of poor Emmett, is all.”

The lawyer consulted his pocket watch. “Five minutes. Any of you who want a last drink or bite to eat should get it quickly.”

No one moved.

“Very well. Remember, the hunt is to last twenty-four hours. Not a minute longer. If none of you have found the chest by six o’clock tomorrow morning, I’m to fire another shot and that will be the end of it.”

“What if we keep looking and find the chest five minutes after six?” Charles asked.

“It doesn’t matter. Six is the deadline. After that, the money and the holdings are to be administered by the executor and there is nothing you can do to stop it.”

“One of us will find the damn thing long before that,” Tom predicted.

“That could very well be,” Pickleman said. “In which case I will fire four shots in the air, one after the other, to signal to the rest that the chest has been discovered.”

Roland stepped up to Samantha and held out his hand. “I wish you luck, sister.”

Sam looked at his hand and then at his face. She shook. “The same to you. Be careful out there.”

“Watch out for snakes and bears,” Roland cautioned. “Although with Fargo to help you, you should do fine.”

“How touching,” Tom said.

Roland turned. “I don’t blame you for being cynical. But I want you to know something. I want all of you to know that if I find the chest, I’m sharing the inheritance. Each and every one of you will get an equal amount, both in money and in property.”

“Always the noble one,” Samantha said.

Tom chortled. “Oh, please. Next you’ll have him walking on water.”

“Must you be so cruel?”

“Must you be so gullible? Our dear brother says he will share now, but who can predict what he’ll say if he’s the one who finds the damn chest? He might change his mind.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Roland said.

“No, not someone so noble,” Tom mocked him.

Her jaw twitching, Samantha went down the steps two at a stride, her dress swishing noisily.

Tom saw her coming. “Yes, dear sister? What’s on your mind?”

Sam smacked him. She hit him so hard, she rocked Tom on his heels. Shocked, he put a hand to his cheek. Cletus Brun swore and started to reach for her but Tom swatted his hand away.

“Don’t you dare. She might be a fool and she might be deluded but she’s still my sister.”

Sam had her arm poised to slap him again. “I won’t have you talk like that to Roland. Do you hear?”

“Whatever you say,” Tom said sullenly.

Theodore Pickleman announced, “Three minutes.” Then he reached under his jacket and produced a pistol.

Fargo had been watching Samantha and didn’t realize Charlotte was next to him until she touched his elbow.

“Have you thought over what we talked about?”

“I told you. I’m working for your sister.”

“You can work for both of us. She doesn’t have to know. If you find the chest, inform me, not her. You’ll leave here with enough money to keep you in whiskey and whores for a year.”

“A bottle a night adds up,” Fargo said.

Charlotte gripped his wrist. “I’m serious.”

“I already gave you my answer.” Fargo pulled loose. “And if I see those two killers you hired, gun or no gun, it will be them or me.”

“I didn’t hire anyone, damn you. Certainly not that oafish Anders and not the brother and sister you say are trying to kill us.”

Fargo almost believed her, she sounded so sincere. “If you’re telling the truth you’d better keep one eye behind you or whoever did hire them will get to gloat over your corpse.”

Charlotte gazed at her siblings and said fiercely, “It’s turned out exactly as Father wanted. Here we are, at one another’s throats, with no one believing a word anyone else says. He truly was a devil.”

“Stay with your cousin at all times,” Fargo advised. “Don’t separate for any reason.”

“What’s this? Concern for my safety? When you just branded me a liar?”

“I could be wrong.”

“You’re a fool like all the rest,” Charlotte said in disgust, and walked back to where Amanda was waiting.

“Two minutes,” Pickleman said.

“I feel like a racehorse at the starting gate,” Charles observed.

Fargo went down the steps to Samantha. She had moved away from the others and stood with her head bowed. “Are you all right?”

“I shouldn’t have done that, lost my temper the way I did. Smacking him was wrong.”

“He’s a jackass.”

“True,” Sam agreed. “But he’s also my brother and I care for him whether he believes I do or not.” She sadly shook her head. “Father must be laughing in his grave.”

“Maybe it will turn out all right.”

“Listen to yourself. You know it won’t. I have the feeling I’m setting eyes on some of them for the last time.” Sam groaned. “If only we could call it off.”

“One minute,” the attorney hollered.

“I’ll do what I can to protect you,” Fargo promised. Not that there was a whole hell of a lot he could do when all he had was a knife.

“If it comes to that, protect the others, too. I’ll pay you extra. I never expected anything like this when I sent for you.”

“It’s not the money,” Fargo said.

“It is to us.”

Theodore Pickleman pointed the pocket pistol at the sky and thumbed back the hammer. “The time has come, ladies and gentlemen. Let the inheritance hunt commence.”

The shot was like the crack of doom.