“Well, blessed be, I’ve been waiting three days to hear you say that,” Lucy said. “You lost a lot of blood, and Dr. Purvis said I should give you beef broth to restore it. But, try as I might over the last three days, I couldn’t make you take anything except a little water. I’ll get you some broth.”
“Forget the broth, how about a steak?” Matt said.
“You’ll like this broth,” Lucy promised. “I already have some ready.”
Lucy left, then returned in just about a minute, carrying a tray with a bowl and a spoon. She put the tray on a table and moved the table closer to the bed.
The broth was rich, with a very appetizing aroma, and when Matt looked at it, he saw that it was augmented with noodles.
“I don’t see how the noodles can hurt you,” Lucy said. “And since you haven’t eaten in three days, you probably need something a little more substantial than just broth.”
“Uhmm,” Matt said after he took his first bite. “Lucy, these noodles are delicious!”
“I’m glad you like them,” Lucy said. “Mrs. Black didn’t make these. I made them myself. I learned how to cook them from my mammy.”
Matt chuckled. “Your mammy. That’s right, John did say you were a Southern lady.”
“Oh, and the worst kind,” Lucy teased. “I’m a Southern lady who married a Yankee.” She poured a glass of red wine and handed it to him. “The doctor said that red wine would help too.”
“What about beer? Did he say beer would help?”
“I think we’ll just go with the wine,” Lucy said.
“Won’t you join me?” Matt asked.
Lucy smiled and poured another glass for herself. “I thought you would never ask,” she said.
“Tell me, Mr. Meacham,” Denbigh said as he held a brandy snifter in his hand. “What do you know of psychology?”
“Psychology? I’ve never even heard of that word. What does it mean?”
“It is the study of the human mind, and how the mind works,” Denbigh said. “Herr Wilhelm Wundt has established a laboratory in Germany and is discovering some fascinating aspects of how the mind works.”
“I see,” Meacham said.
Denbigh chuckled. “You don’t see at all, do you?”
“No, sir, I don’t reckon I do.”
“I bring the subject of psychology up, Mr. Meacham, because we are about to do something that will have a whole effect that is greater than its parts.”
Meacham’s face was still a blank.
“Never mind. I will explain so that even you can understand. The largest rancher around, other than myself, of course, is Ian McCann. If something were to happen that would cause McCann to cease operation, I believe it would have a great psychological effect on all the others. They would see that if the biggest among them is not safe, then neither will they be.”
“Do you want me to kill him?” Meacham asked.
“No,” Denbigh replied. “Though I must say I am heartened by your eagerness to perform such a task, should I ask it of you. It won’t be necessary to kill him, only to dishearten him. Are you willing to do that?”
“You’re the boss,” Meacham said. “I’m willing to do whatever you want.”
Leo McCann was in the bunkhouse with Curly Dobbins and Slim Toomey. Curly was playing a guitar, and Slim was accompanying him with a Jew’s harp. Leo was stamping his foot and clapping his hands, enjoying the impromptu performance, when Slim lowered the Jew’s harp and walked over to look through the window.
“What the hell?” he said.
Curly quit strumming the guitar, and the music fell silent. “What is it?” he asked. “What do you see out there?”
“Lights,” Slim said. “I see a lot of lights.”
“Lights? What? Lanterns? Candles? What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know, I’m not sure. I’m going outside to take a better look.”
“I’ll come with you,” Curly said, laying the guitar down, then stepping out onto the porch of the bunkhouse with his friend.
Leo went out onto the porch with the two men who rode for his father. As he stepped outside, he saw what Slim had seen, nearly a dozen lights. But even before he had time to wonder what he was seeing, he started wondering why he was seeing it. Each light was a burning torch, carried by a horseman, and now the horses were thundering down Crowley’s Ridge, heading straight for the ranch buildings.
“Son of a bitch! It’s Denbigh’s men!” Slim shouted. “They’re comin’ to burn us out! Boy, get our guns! They’re just inside the door!”
Leo stepped back into the bunkhouse and grabbed a pistol from each of the holsters that were hanging from a peg, then hurried back outside and handed them to Curly and Slim.
Slim got off one shot, Curly didn’t even do that, before a fusillade came back from the riders. Curly and Slim both went down, while Leo, unhit, dived off the porch, then crawled around behind it.
The riders started shooting through the windows of the main house, a couple of them taking great delight in
