Kid Denny rose in his saddle. “Bennet! Tom Bennet! This is Denny! Come out, Bennet! I’ve got an order of foreclosure, an’ I means to enforce it! Come out, Bennet, or we’ll come in after you!”
The gang sat in the moonlight before the house, fingering their guns. They saw no light. The only sign of life was a light smoke rising from the chimney.
Then the front door opened a crack. “Well, hello there, Denny! A bit early for visiting, ain’t it?” Mr. Bennet’s sardonic voice came from inside the darkened doorway.
“Come out, Bennet, an’ nobody gets hurt!”
Bennet’s voice was mocking. “Now, why would I believe that, Denny? Why would I leave my house?”
Denny held up a sheet of paper. “I’ve got me a proper order of foreclosure! That ain’t your house no more, Bennet! You’re trespassing, and I’ve got the right to throw you outta there!”
“Is that so? By whose authority, may I ask?”
“Judge Phillips!”
“Well, it’s debatable if that sycophant has enough brains to
Denny and Whitehead shared a look before George answered. “I’m right here, Tom! You’d better come on out!”
“George! I’m mightily glad to see that
“I’m sorry, Tom, but Rosings Bank has called the loan! There’s nothing I can do about it tonight! You’d better come on out, or there might be trouble! We’ll try to straighten it out in the morning!”
Bennet’s voice was as teasing as ever. “I’ve a better idea, George. Why don’t you come on inside? I’m sure we can resolve
Whitehead glanced at Denny. “I can’t do that, Tom!”
“I see.” Bennet’s false cheer had disappeared. “But you can take advantage of a mere child, is that it? Brave war hero that you are.”
Whitehead was not surprised by Bennet’s words; in fact, he was pleased. It told him that Lily had returned home. Denny, however, was not so sanguine.
“She was a ripe jolly piece, Bennet, an’ I might be willin’ to take her back, if’n she gets her ass out here in the next two minutes—her an’ all of you!”
“Go to hell, you son-of-a-bitch!” Bennet cried. “You want her?! Come and get her!”
Before Whitehead could say anything, Denny whipped out his six-shooter and unloaded it at the farmhouse. The rest of the gang joined in, and the house was struck by scores of rounds. For almost a minute the air was filled with gunshots and smoke. No fire was returned from inside the house. As suddenly as the violence started, it stopped, and an unholy quiet descended upon the farm.
Whitehead dismounted, saying to Denny, “All right, go in there and—” when the night was torn with the bark of rifles as the house erupted in light and smoke. Whitehead and his men dove for cover. A couple of horses fell and the rest ran off in terror. Whitehead, prone on the damp ground, pulled out his Colt and returned fire while Collins whimpered in fear. The others were desperately trying to reload.
The firing from the house ceased, and Denny crawled over to Whitehead and Collins, who had taken shelter behind an overturned wheelbarrow. “What the hell’s goin’ on here?” his henchman demanded.
“Hell if I know,” Whitehead shot back. “How are we?”
Pyke joined them. “Wilkerson’s dead! And a couple o’ horses, besides!”
“Shit!” Whitehead peeked out. “Got some company, Tom?!”
“Sure do, George!” the farmer returned. “Why don’t you come on in and meet ’em?!”
“Fuck!” Denny pounded the soft ground with a fist. “Darcy sent some of his men!”
Whitehead nodded, an idea coming to him. “Hello, the house! Look, boys, you’ve surprised us proper, I’ll give you that! But let me tell you, Darcy did you wrong! We’re the law here, and you’re on the wrong side! You’re aiding and abetting and we’ve got the right to kill anyone that stands in the way of enforcing a court order! Come on out now, and we’ll let you go!”
A Spanish-flavored voice responded. “Sorry,
“That’s that fuckin’ Estrada—Fitzwilliam’s Number Two,” Denny advised.
“Right.” At the house, Whitehead shouted, “Dying’s not a great way of making a living, boys, no matter how much Darcy’s paying you! Just remember, you’re trapped here! We’ve got you outnumbered, and he’s safe back at the ranch! That don’t sound too fair, does it?!”
“We ’ere, you ’ere, everyone gots to be somewhere! I think we stay!”
A trembling Collins gripped Whitehead by the shoulder. “Now what? If this gets out, we’re finished!”
“Shut up, Collins! I have to think!”
Darcy enjoyed the taunting of Whitehead and Denny while he reloaded, but he wasn’t fool enough not to know the situation he was in. With no time to set up a proper ambush, they had no choice but to fall back into the Bennet farmhouse. Darcy had six men with him and Bennet. Two others had gone to hide the wagon in the barn and were holed up there with the farmhand, Hill. José Estrada covered the rear, while the rest were positioned at the windows in the front and sides of the house. Tom Bennet had the front door, while Darcy took the window to the left.
Darcy counted the advantages to his position. One, everyone was armed with Winchesters, and all had plenty of ammo. Two, the full moon helped the defenders more than the attackers. Three, Darcy could count on the skill, dedication, and loyalty of his men. Four, Whitehead had no clear idea who he was dealing with, since Darcy let José do the talking.
In the deficit column, however, was the fact that Whitehead was in control of the fight. He had more men and room to maneuver. He could choose when, how, and where to attack. His people were ruthless and wouldn’t hesitate to kill. And Whitehead was desperate. Meanwhile, Darcy was handicapped by the women and the old man he was sworn to protect, and he had no idea if Hill would hold up. If they became trapped and needed to escape, they would have to shoot their way out.
Darcy would not kid himself—his position was precarious.
His musings were interrupted by a jostling of his boot. Glancing behind him, he was startled to see two large, dark eyes framed by a mass of curly hair.
“Beth! By God, woman, what are you doing out of the root cellar?” Darcy hissed. When the party retreated into the house, the women had been herded into the cellar for their protection.
Her eyes flashed in annoyance as she crawled closer. “We’re trying to help!” she said in a strong whisper as she shoved a rifle into his hands.
“What the—” Darcy looked beyond his beloved. In the dim light of the smoldering fire in the hearth he could make out two more figures crawling from the entrance of the cellar and one other person half-raised, handling a gun.
“Fanny!” Bennet tried to keep his voice down. “What are you doing?”
Mrs. Bennet had no qualms about staying quiet. “Thomas Bennet, I may not know how to shoot a gun, but I certainly can load one! You men keep an eye on those scoundrels out there, and me and my girls will pass you fresh weapons.”
“But… but, dear, you might get shot.”
“Not if we stay low to the floor. Now, hush up, or those evil men will hear you!”
Bennet shrugged and in a mock-serious tone to Darcy claimed, “Get the whip hand over them at once, Will! At once! You see what happens if you don’t?”
Beth grinned and began to crawl back. “Wait!” said Darcy. “Instead of reloading the extra rifles in one spot, split up the ammo—Kathy and Mary to that side, and you and Miz Bennet here. It’ll go faster.”
“Will,” complained Bennet, “don’t encourage them!”
“Sorry, Bennet, but it’s a good idea.” He turned back to Beth. “Just stay down!”
Beth retrieved another rifle. Just as she moved to Ethan by the north window, Whitehead’s people started
