Mankillers

“No, sir. He was very insistent on learning when you’d be returning though. Naturally I—”

“Did he happen to mention where he was going from here?”

The clerk shook his head. “Only that he would catch up with you later.” He offered Buck his key. “Will you be wanting—”

Ignoring the key and the rest of the question, Buck ran out the door and around the corner to the stable.

“I need Gypsy immediately,” he told the livery man.

“Now? Sir, he’s all wet. I was bathing him like you told me.”

Buck muttered a curse under his breath. “What about Scamp?”

“Getting ready to do him now.”

Buck didn’t like riding stallions, and Rex’s had already proved untrustworthy, but he had no choice. “Saddle him, and quickly.”

“Whatever you say, sir.”

The groom was probably not being intentionally slow, but the simple process of getting the horse from his stall, putting on his bridle and bit, the saddle blanket, then the saddle itself seemed to take an eternity. The horse kept skittering around too, further slowing the process. During that time, Buck checked the pistol he’d been carrying in his coat pocket for the last two days. Five bullets. That should be enough.

#

Randolph returned to the Grayson house in time to see the elderly couple, whom he recognized from the previous day, presumably the banker and his wife, leave the house on foot. Should he follow them or should he keep the house under surveillance? Where were they going? Where were Sarah and her lover? Did they have a private nest of their own? Restlessness won out. Randolph trailed behind the old folks from a discreet distance on the other side of the street.

Fifteen minutes later the pair rang the doorbell of a fine house on Pendleton. A few moments later it was opened by the witch herself, Ruth Greenwald.

Well, it looks like I struck the mother lode. Wherever momma is, dear, sweet Sarah can’t be far away. Now all I have to do is sip and wait.

He removed the silver flask from his hip pocket and took a swig. Was Dr. Thomson already inside with her, or were they off somewhere doing things that weren’t respectable? He twisted his mouth at the taste of the Monongahela. As Sarah Drexel’s husband he was entitled to her estate, which had no doubt increased considerably in size following her father’s death. Franklin had told Randolph all about it, and his attempt to lay claim. Nice try, Poppa. No matter. Soon Randolph would be enjoying bourbon at least as good as his old man’s.

He’d just replaced the flask in his pocket when the front door opened again and the well-dressed couple emerged. Randolph’s heart lurched. This time it wasn’t Ruth at the door but Sarah. It had been more than two years since he’d seen her. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. While he was languishing in a filthy Yankee prison, how many other men had she been sharing her favors with? Smiling, she stood at the open door for a moment and waved to her guests as they strolled back the way they’d come. They passed within five feet of where he was pressed against a brick pillar. His heart was pounding now, from the danger, from the excitement, but mostly in anticipation of what was to come. He craved action, the kind that only violence and women could satisfy.

Should he charge into the house after her? Was Thomson inside? Randolph still didn’t know. Did it make any difference? She was there. Ruth was there. Two out of three. When he was finished with them he wouldn’t have any trouble finding the elusive Dr. Thomson. In fact, the doc would be looking for him, which was fine.

He was about to cross the street and ring the doorbell when he heard the hoof beats of an approaching rider. He darted back into his hiding place. A dappled gray stallion trotted to the Greenwald house and the rider dismounted. Randolph examined him carefully. Tall and slender, lithe on his feet, and broad shouldered. He carried himself with the aristocratic arrogance of someone born with a silver spoon in his mouth. This had to be Buck Thomson, medical doctor and lecher.

Even before the plantation owner’s son reached the front door, it flew open and Sarah smiled in welcome, took his hand and led him inside. The door closed discreetly.

Randolph tamped down the flare of temper that threatened to expose him. It was time for what the army called reco

The man who’d arrived a few minutes ago was sitting on the foot of a narrow bed, changing the dressing on a man’s leg, or more precisely the stump of his leg. Sarah was standing at the head of the bed, pulling the cork from a blue bottle. Probably laudanum, Randolph concluded. Well, Mr. One-Leg wasn’t going to be any trouble at all.

He felt that thrill of anticipation. They were all here. Dr. Thomson. Sweet Sarah and her bitch of a mother. The old bat probably didn’t consider it ladylike to see a man’s stump. He watched her leave the room. A moment later, through the open door to the hall, he caught a glimpse of her black dress ascending the staircase. Randolph snickered. She probably had her own stash of laudanum in her bedroom to calm her delicate nerves. Delicate, my foot. He looked at the man in the bed and almost laughed out loud.

He took another gulp from his bottle. Time to claim what was his.

#

“Excuse me, Miz Sarah,” the butler said from the doorway, “but there’s a man outside sneaking through the bushes around the house and peeping in the windows.”

Buck’s head shot up. That could mean only one person. Randolph had found them. The shock on Sarah’s face was unmistakable. What concerned Buck even more was the flash of fear he caught in her eyes.

“Sarah, go upstairs immediately and stay with your mother. Don’t come down till I tell you it’s safe.”

“But—” she seemed momentarily paralyzed “—but what about Rex’s laudanum?”

“Please don’t argue. There’s no time to lose.”

“You think it’s Randolph?” She knew it was.

“We can’t take any chances. Now please go. I’ll stay here with Rex.” He turned to the butler. “Make sure the doors and windows are all locked and the shades drawn. Hurry.”

“Yessir.” Duncan didn’t ask the questions Buck could see on his face. He turned back into the hall. Sarah was right behind him. Buck was about to start rewrapping Rex’s stump when there was a crash and the sound of shattering glass exploding from the rear of the house.

“Don’t move,” a man’s gruff voice ordered. “Anybody who twitches gets shot.”

Sarah glanced at Buck through the doorway. Her eyes were wide and said it all. It’s him. It’s Randolph. You were right.

Small consolation. Buck reached for the Colt in his coat pocket.

“Thomson,” the intruder shouted defiantly. “Get out here with your hands up or I’ll shoot her.”

Buck weighed his options. There weren’t many. He quickly leaned over Rex, slipped his hand under the covers and whispered a few hasty words. Whether Rex understood what he said wasn’t clear. Buck was about to ask him when Randolph bellowed out a new command.

“You got three seconds, doc. One. Two—”

“Coming!” Buck bolted to the doorway and out into the hall with his hands raised. He positioned himself at Sarah’s side.

Duncan had backed into a corner by the staircase, his hands extended high over his head.