a cavalry unit taking a predeteremined position.
People stopped and stared. Word sped through the stores and offices. Lady Holt had come to town. Traffic in the street disappeared magically. A stray mongrel dog dared to bark and was shooed into silence by three men.
No one noticed Wilson Tanner returning to the livery a few minutes later. He shook his head, watching the Holt army take control of Caisson just by entering it.
In front of the telegraph office, Lady Holt reined her horse and swung down from her sidesaddle rig and handed the reins to Tapan. Jaudon dismounted in awkward stages and handed the reins to Tapan as well.
She stood, letting the drama of her appearance be absorbed by the townspeople. She enjoyed the effect and decided she must do it more often. She commanded Tapan to hold the men in the center of the street until they returned. With that, she went inside the telegraph office with Jaudon a few steps behind. The telegraph operator almost stumbled, attempting to greet them. He was shaking from nervousness.
“A-afternoon, L-Lady Holt. Ah, C-Captain Jaudon. H-how may I help you today?” The greasy-haired operator rubbed his sweaty hands on his wrinkled pants.
“He needs to send a wire to the governor. Now.”
“Of course. Of course. I’ll get you some paper—ah, and a pencil,” the operator declared, turning around and banging into his own desk.
“I have no need of either. Here.” She held out a folded piece of paper. “Send this.”
“I—I certainly w-will, ma’am. H-hope you are d-doing well today,” he said, his hands shaking. “W-we don’t have the h-honor of your presence…in town…often enough.”
Her smile was one of disdain. “Send the wire.”
Methodically, he unfolded the paper.
She watched him read the message and snapped, “What’s the matter?”
“Ah, nothing, I guess.” The operator sniffed nervously.
“Do you disagree with this assessment?”
“Ah, no. No. Of course not. Glad Captain Jaudon is here to…help.”
“Send it.”
Jaudon sneared as the operator sniffed again, unlocked the telegraph key and began sending the message.
“I know Morse code.” She folded her arms and one eyebrow arched triumphantly.
He nodded and ignored the sweat bead rolling down from his forehead and finding the end of his nose.
On the corner of the operator’s table was a folded paper, a message received but not delivered. Jaudon looked closer. Rule Cordell’s name was written in the upper corner. Without asking, he picked it up, unfolded the paper and read:
He handed the paper to Lady Holt, who read and returned it to the fat Frenchman, who laid it back on the table. If the operator noticed, he didn’t say.
“At least that explains why he didn’t wire me,” she said. “I thought he had run off with the money I paid him.” She paused and her eyelashes flitted as if out of control. “Where is that money now? I want it back.”
Turning toward Jaudon, she told him to wire the Clark Springs marshal and follow up. He should claim the money was stolen. Without waiting for his response, she took a sheet of paper from the desk, wrote a short note about retrieving the “stolen” money and laid it beside the operator tapping out the initial message. He would know who to send it to in Clark Springs. On top of the sheet, she left several coins.
Minutes later, Lady Holt emerged from the telegraph office. Jaudon came behind her, waving the return message.
“I am authorized to take ze control,” he yelled to his men. “
Tapan nudged his horse forward and led the Holt men to the sheriff’s office. All of them drew rifles from their saddle scabbards, cocked and aimed them at the sheriff’s door. The blacksmith-turned-sheriff emerged, holding a cocked Winchester. Scared, but determined, he stood in the doorway as the armed riders lined up in front of him. Muscles in his arms twitched with nervous energy.
“Wh-hat can I d-do for you, gentlemen?” he said in his best voice, hoping to keep the fear from bubbling over.
“The governor has just given Captain Jaudon military control of this town,” Tapan declared, and pointed at Jaudon standing beside Lady Holt outside the telegraph office.
He pushed the flagpole forward in its leather holster. “We have been deputized as Rangers.” He pointed to the badge on his shirt and grinned.
“I d-don’t u-understand.”
“Understand this, then. Resign as sheriff now or die…now.”
The blacksmith choked back the fear climbing in his throat. A wet spot appeared at his groin, bringing chuckles from the string of riders facing him. He wasn’t certain he could even walk. Finally, his hands let the Winchester drop and it thudded on the planked sidewalk, barely missing his boots.
“The hell with this. I—I r-resign.” He yanked the badge from his soot-covered shirt and dropped it. Without looking at them, he walked away.
“Smoky. Ben. Go inside and bring out Hangar and Opat,” Tapan commanded. His half smile was confident and cruel. When this was all over, Lady Holt might make him her number-one man, instead of Jaudon. Or her husband. He smiled and muttered, “Lord of Texas has a nice ring to it.”
No one appeared on the street. It was as if the entire town had become an oil painting. The bravado built from the hearings had evaporated like a wisp of smoke. Smoky and Ben reappeared a few minutes later with a smiling Hangar and a tentative Opat. Both gunmen quickly remounted.
“Thanks, boys. We were in a bad fix!” Hangar yelled. “That damn John Checker—and Rule Cordell—sneaked up on us. The bastards! Meade lied about killin’ the Ranger!”
Tapan glanced at Jaudon and Lady Holt, then back to the two released men. “You two failed. Lady Holt doesn’t like failure.”
“Hey, wait a minute!” Hangar held out his hands.
Opat shook his head and bowed it.
A stream of rifle shots tore through Caisson. Both Hangar and Opat crumpled to the ground.
“Smoky, get the undertaker,” Tapan yelled, examining the aftermath of their firing. “Tell him the state of Texas is paying. For the boxes an’ the diggin’. I want those bodies out of here. Quick.”
He liked the feeling that came with leadership. Would Jaudon be a problem now that he had returned with his captaincy? He knew there was no romantic interest between the Frenchman and the English duchess. Maybe Jaudon’s responsibilities as Ranger captain would take him away.
“Drinks are on the boss at No. 8,” Tapan yelled. “Cause trouble in town and you’re fired. Same if you’re too drunk to ride when we leave.”
Grunts of approval and statements of agreement followed as the Holt gunmen wheeled and galloped toward the saloon. They vanished inside in seconds. Tapan looked around and saw Jaudon and Lady Holt standing in the middle of the street. He swung his mount toward her and took a position at her right, holding the flag of the phoenix upright. Jaudon looked at him and Tapan produced one of his best smiles.
The fat Frenchman actually giggled as he began a loud pronouncement to the quaking town. His horse snorted and shook its head. Jaudon yanked hard on the reins.
“Ze citizens of Caisson, hear me,” he yelled. “Ze governor has given me, as ze Ranger captain, ze complete authority to bring law and order to ze region. He is very concerned about ze outlaws attempting to take control of zee town.
