them.”
He stalked out of the library and headed toward the front of the house. The butler, Dennis, wasn’t around, but Frank didn’t need any help finding his way out.
Just before he reached the front door, though, a voice spoke from a door to the side of the foyer. “Mr. Morgan, please wait.”
Frank stopped and frowned. He turned and saw Chamberlain’s daughter standing there just inside the open doorway, which led into what appeared to be a small sitting room.
“I need to talk to you,” she went on.
“I don’t want to be rude, Miss Chamberlain,” he said, “but your father and I have finished our business.”
“I know. I hope you’ll forgive me, but…I was listening just outside the library door. I knew you were talking about…the Terror…and I wanted to hear what you said.”
Frank remembered her earlier reaction. He might be wrong, but he thought the idea that the Terror had been killed had frightened her. He didn’t have any idea why that would be true, but the possibility intrigued him enough that he wanted to find out if his hunch was right.
“Your father’s liable to try to have me thrown out if he realizes I’m still here, but I reckon I can spare you a minute or two.”
“Thank you,” she said, obviously relieved. “Please, come in here, where we won’t be disturbed.”
She moved back. Frank stepped into the sitting room, which was furnished with a pair of armchairs and a small table with a lamp on it. The blonde eased the door closed, then turned to face Frank, whose natural courtesy where womenfolks was concerned had prompted him to remove his hat again. Holding the Stetson in front of him, he asked, “What can I do for you?”
“We haven’t been formally introduced,” she said. “My name is Nancy Chamberlain.”
Frank nodded. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss. Wish it had been under better circumstances.”
“So do I. I heard my father offer you the job of tracking down and killing the Terror.”
“Yes, ma’am. I turned him down, though.”
“He said he’d take back that damned bounty if you did.”
The vehemence in her voice surprised him. So did the way she clasped her hands together in front of her, so tightly that she squeezed the blood out of her fingers and made them turn pale.
“That’s right,” Frank said. “I don’t think the bounty’s a good idea, but I still don’t want the job.”
“I wish you’d take it,” she said. “You look like the sort of man who…who can handle a difficult job.”
“You want me to find the Terror and kill it?”
Nancy Chamberlain shook her head. She took a deep breath and said, “No, Mr. Morgan, I want you to find the Terror…and bring him home.”
“Him?” Frank repeated with a surprised frown.
“That’s right. You see, Mr. Morgan, the Terror is my brother.”
Chapter 6
Frank couldn’t help but stare at her. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting from her, but the news that the Terror was not only human, but her brother as well, sure wasn’t it.
That would help explain, though, why she had seemed to be more worried about the Terror than about the men who had died that afternoon.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to explain that, ma’am,” Frank said slowly.
Nancy’s fingers knotted together even tighter. “What people have started calling the Terror…he’s my brother, Benjamin. He’s not a monster, not at all.”
“Miss Chamberlain, less than two hours ago I talked to a man who had just seen the Terror. He said the thing was nine feet tall, covered with hair, and had claws so big and sharp that it could, well, tear men apart with them.”
Nancy grimaced and shook her head. “You know how people exaggerate when they’re scared. Ben
“I saw what they did with my own eyes,” Frank said as gently as he could. “It was bad, ma’am, mighty bad.”
“I don’t care!” Nancy burst out. “Ben couldn’t hurt anyone! He’s too gentle! And if he did, it…it’s not his fault…. There’s something wrong in his head…”
She raised her hands, covered her face with them, and began to sob.
Despite his age and experience and almost supernatural skill with a gun, Frank was like most men in one respect: He didn’t have any idea what to do when confronted by a crying woman. He shifted his feet awkwardly, thought about patting Nancy on the shoulder and saying, “There, there,” then decided that would probably be the wrong thing to do. So he just waited quietly instead.
After a couple of minutes, Nancy’s sobs died away to sniffles. She lowered her hands from her red-eyed face and looked at Frank. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“It’s not that I don’t believe you, ma’am,” he said. “But like I told you, I
