Ride for Rule Cordell

Chapter Twenty-five

Lady Holt had just finished her phoenix ritual when Sheriff Hangar and Eleven Meade arrived at her ranch house. She was strolling from the red ceremonial room when she heard the knocking at the front door.

“Ill get it, Elliott,” she yelled, and strode to the heavy wood entrance. Looking away, she said softly, “Iva Lee, do you think it’s Emmett Gardner giving me his ranch? Or that foolish Peale woman?” Her laugh followed her approach.

“Well, good afternoon, Sheriff, what brings you to my land today?” She glanced at Meade holding his white cat. “I’m sure you’re here to collect your money—or advise me of the status of your assignment.”

Meade managed to say, “Checker’s dead” before Hangar declared, “Got some bad news. Somethin’ nobody expected.”

“You mean you didn’t expect,” Lady Holt said. “Come in. I was just about to have my afternoon tea.” She looked again at Meade. “Or do you need to be traveling? Elliott has your payment. I’ll call him.”

Eleven Meade bit his lower lip and smiled, more of a thin grin. “I’ll stay if you don’t mind, m’lady. You might have another assignment for me.”

“I see.”

He leaned over and let the cat loose. “Discover the world, my precious.”

Sitting around the elegant mahogany coffee table in the main room of the house, the threesome enjoyed hot tea and dainty cookies made by her chef. Elliott served them on fine Italian china. Hangar asked for three spoons of sugar, Meade a squeeze of fresh lemon. Lady Holt’s tea was laced with a spoon of sugar and a touch of cream, before presenting it to her; Elliott didn’t ask.

In the center of the table was a fresh display of prairie lackspur, rain lilies, scarlet pimpernel, Mexican gold poppies and wisteria. She loved the mixture of color and insisted on her considerable garden being harvested for the best blooms each day.

The quiet black man said something to her in Latin; she nodded and he left. She studied both men before finally asking what the problem was.

“Rule Cordell.”

“Rule Cordell?” she repeated. “If memory serves me right, he’s dead. One of those wild pistoleros who popped up in Texas after the war. What’s that got to do with me?”

Sipping the tea, Hangar explained about Cordell and his appearance in Caisson. Her lack of reaction surprised him. He was expecting a vicious outburst.

“So, Rule Cordell now owns Emmett Gardner’s ranch,” she said, more to herself than to either man. “And Gardner has left the region.”

“Looks that way.” Hangar reached for another cookie.

“And you were afraid to kill him. This Rule Cordell.” Her cold words stopped his advance on the plate.

Meade snickered. “No, he tried. Cordell was ready—and too good. For three of your men. That other Ranger…Bartlett…he was with him.”

“I see. And you?” She stared at Meade.

The hired killer’s face was taut. “Actually I was going to kill him. For you. But I wasn’t going up against two guns.”

“That isn’t how it happened, Meade,” Hangar said. “Cordell knocked your gun away and hit you to the floor. It was something to see. Slammed him silly.”

“I didn’t see you trying anything.” Meade stared at the lawman.

“Gentlemen, I really don’t care—or have time for this,” Lady Holt said, waving her hands for emphasis. “Do you know where this Rule Cordell was going? You said he left town. Was he headed for Gardner’s ranch? I assume you checked on the validity of his claim.”

“Yes to both. Hires said it was all legal and buttoned up. He left town with that other Ranger, but I don’t know where they were going.”

“And you didn’t follow him.” Lady Holt’s eyes tightened around Hangar’s face.

“I…ah, I…no, I didn’t,” Hangar said. “Thought I’d better come out here to make sure you knew about him.”

Lady Holt sipped her tea. “And you thought I’d rather hear about him coming, than hear you took care of him.”

Meade smiled.

“Well, ah, no, I…ah, I…”

“Never mind. Jaudon should be back from Austin tomorrow. All of his men are officially Rangers—or we can say they are. I’ll have them take out this Rule Cordell and take over the Gardner Ranch at the same time.” She placed her teacup on the table. “Eleven, did you deliver the letter to that Peale woman as I asked?”

“Of course.”

“Tell me how you know John Checker is dead.”

Rubbing his hands together, Meade explained what had happened at the Peale Ranch and his subsequent inspection of the Checker burial, ending with his shooting into the dead man’s face.

She stood and looked down at the killer. “So you always carry a shovel with you?”

“What?”

“I asked if you carry a shovel in your carriage.” Her mouth was a slit with a snarl appearing at the right corner. “Surely you didn’t dig him up with your bare hands.”

Meade glanced at the amused sheriff and said, “No, I don’t—and I didn’t. I made the colored man do it. The one who works for the Peale woman.”

Her smirk disappeared.

“He didn’t want to…but he did.” Meade patted the holstered pistol at his hip.

Lady Holt ran her hands over her gold-striped blouse, looked down at herself and said, “You think she beds that black?”

Meade was happy to have her attention on something else. But how would he know if the woman was involved with her hired hand? All he knew for certain was London Fiss was a formidable man who would protect her with his last breath. He shivered. Facing such a man was not something he wished to do.

“Here’s what I want you to do, Hangar.” Lady Holt was focused on the lawman again.

She began to pace, rattling off what she expected. Hangar was to get Judge Opat to issue a warrant for Rule Cordell’s arrest and wire the governor to have Cordell’s pardon revoked. After that, he was to go to the town’s newspaper editor and tell him about the outlaw coming to town and being a part of Emmett Gardner’s rustling operation. She made it clear Hangar was to insist on the story being run. What wasn’t said was that Henry Seitmeyer, the editor, was his own man.

Hangar looked as if he had been slapped in the face. Why did he have to do all the dirty work?

Lady Holt’s directive to Meade was simple. “Find this A. J. Bartlett and kill him. I’ll pay you the same as the other Ranger.”

Meade nodded, stood and nudged Hangar to respond the same way. As they started to leave, she said, “Wait. Where does this Rule Cordell live? Do you know?” Her smile was radiant, her eyes wide and bright. “That’s where Emmett Gardner and his stupid sons are hiding. Has to be.”

Hangar and Meade stood in the hallway, both unsure of what she wanted.

“Ah, Hires said the deed was written up in…ah, Clark Springs,” Hangar said.

“That’s it, then. Eleven, I want you to ride there,” Lady Holt demanded. “You can be there by morning.” She nodded agreement at her own thinking. “Find where he lives. Then wire me. I’ll decide what happens next. Don’t kill him ’til I tell you to.”

Hangar was relieved. His assignments seemed easier by contrast.

Meade straightened his cravat. “You’re going to have to be more clear, m’lady. Is this project in addition to the Bartlett assignment—or instead of? Either way, what are you going to pay me for this search? It might be quite timeconsuming.”

Lady Holt’s expression transformed from enthusiastic to vengeful. Her eyes narrowed as her gaze homed in on the hired killer.

“Maybe I should just have Ranger Captain Jaudon arrest you for murder?” The snarl reappeared at the corner of her mouth.

Meade’s first impulse was to challenge the statement with his own threat. “Well, now, what’s to keep me from shooting you—and your darling star packer here—taking my money and leaving?” He rested his right hand on the pearl handle of his holstered gun. “What would you say to that, m’lady?”

“I would say turn around. Real slow. Elliott doesn’t like quickness.”

“Cor aut more.” The phrase came from behind the killer.

“That’s Latin for ‘heart or death.’ Interesting choice of words, huh? In case you didn’t look, Elliott is holding a shotgun. Is it cocked, Elliott? Ah yes, it is.”

Meade chuckled. “Touché, m’lady.”

“Find where Rule Cordell lives—and I’ll pay you five hundred dollars.”

“For that, I’d kill him.”

“I’ll remember you said that.” She smiled and ran her fingers through her hair. “Oh, Elliott, please give Mr. Meade his money—and after you’ve seen them out, please find Mr. Moore. Have him come and see me. I need his report on his meeting with Charlie Carlson.” Her smile was lustful.