Something that left a human bone in the cabin, Frank thought. Was that where Ben Chamberlain had carried out his first killing? Was that where he had begun his descent into madness, his transformation into a monster?
Frank didn’t know yet, but he was determined to have those answers. He had given his word to Nancy, and he was starting to feel like he owed it to all the men who had died to uncover the truth, too.
“Father flew into a rage when he heard about the latest deaths,” Nancy went on. “He even ordered the servants to get the carriage ready and said we were coming to town. He’s looking for you, Mr. Morgan. He wants the Terror killed
A frown creased Frank’s forehead. “That’s not a good idea. He needs to give me more time—”
“Morgan!”
The angry roar came from the front porch of the hotel. Despite Rutherford Chamberlain’s gaunt, wasted frame, he still possessed the deep, rumbling voice of a much more powerful man. Frank turned to see Chamberlain standing there, a look of impatient rage on his face.
From the carriage window, Nancy said softly, “I think your time has run out, Mr. Morgan.”
Chapter 17
Frank thought Nancy was probably right about that. Rutherford Chamberlain looked mad enough to chew nails or bite somebody’s head off.
Chamberlain stomped down from the porch and came toward the carriage. He wore a white suit today, with a flat-crowned white hat, and looked more like a Southern plantation owner than a timber baron. He came to a stop in front of Frank, glared at him, and demanded, “What the devil are you doing talking to my daughter?”
“Just saying hello to the young lady,” Frank responded. “She told me you were looking for me. I was about to go into the hotel and find you.”
Chamberlain snorted. “Somehow I doubt that. You’d have to explain yourself, sir.”
“Explain what?”
“Why you haven’t killed that unholy creature yet!”
Frank took a deep breath and kept a tight rein on his temper. “It’s been less than twenty-four hours since we came to our agreement, Mr. Chamberlain. I don’t reckon that’s really giving me a fair chance to do the job, now is it?”
“You haven’t had time to find the Terror and kill it, but the monster has had time to slaughter a dozen more of my men! Is
“I was in the woods this morning,” Frank explained. “I found one of the victims and brought him in. You didn’t know about that, did you?”
Chamberlain continued glowering at him and snapped, “It doesn’t matter. That creature has to be found and killed—now! Several of my foremen came to the house just before Nancy and I left and told me that the loggers don’t want to leave their barracks anymore. They’re afraid to do their work. I can’t allow that, Morgan. My business will collapse if the men won’t go into the woods.”
And that was probably the exact reaction Emmett Bosworth had been hoping for when he hired that crew of gun-wolves, Frank thought. Once again, the image of Jack Grimshaw flashed through his mind. He still hated to think that Grimshaw might be involved in that, but he was coming to the realization that he was going to have to talk to his old friend and try to get the truth out of him.
“Just give me some more time,” Frank told Chamberlain.
“How much time? Until every man jack who works for me has been ripped to shreds?”
“Give me another twenty-four hours,” Frank said.
“And if you haven’t found the Terror by then?”
“I reckon you’ll do whatever it is you think you have to do.”
Chamberlain snorted in disgust. “I’ll put that bounty back on the monster’s head,” he declared. “Only, it won’t be ten thousand dollars next time. It’ll be twenty thousand!”
Frank bit back a curse. Quite a few people had gathered around to watch the angry confrontation between him and Chamberlain, and they all heard what the timber baron had just said. Gasps of surprise came from several of them, followed by excited murmuring. In half an hour, maybe less, nearly everybody in Eureka would know that Chamberlain was talking about reinstating the bounty—and doubling it.
To men like Erickson and his pards, that would mean Frank was the only thing standing between them and a chance at twenty grand.
Chamberlain had just painted an even bigger target on Frank’s back than the one Frank usually wore there just because he was the infamous Drifter.
“Twenty-four hours,” he said, pressing Chamberlain. “We have a deal?”
Chamberlain hesitated, then jerked his head in a curt nod. “All right. Twenty-four hours. But not a minute more. And if you haven’t brought that monster’s head to me by that time, you’re finished, Morgan.”
Frank glanced at the carriage window, where Nancy Chamberlain’s pale, drawn face peered out. He gave her a tiny nod, trying to let her know that everything was going to be all right. He would find the Terror, determine whether or not it was really her brother, and act accordingly from there. Exposing Emmett Bosworth’s scheming would just have to wait.
Chamberlain turned away and started hollering for his driver. Frank nodded at Nancy again, then went into the hotel. He wanted to gather some extra gear. Once he went into the woods the next time, he wouldn’t be coming
