As the jeep drew closer to the base, Brown marshaled his arguments. He would say that every business did what it could to stretch the dollar. That he’d been assured by the chemical company rep—the man was old as sin and nearly senile—that the way he wanted to structure his formula was sound.
He supposed the government’s accountants would be all over him, demanding that he even pay a penalty on some of the money he’d been paid for the fuel he’d delivered.
He’d fight that, of course. Hell, the war hadn’t changed the way things worked, not really. He had a lawyer that he paid a pretty penny to, who looked after the interests of the refinery.
He’d make that son of a bitch earn his money for a change.
There seemed to be a lot of men standing around as the MPs escorted him to Colonel Hamilton’s office, and none of those men looked very friendly, either.
Who the hell were they to be looking at him like that? They were just grunts—just men filling uniforms, who at any moment could be sent off to be nothing more than cannon fodder.
They had no right to look down their noses at him. He was a businessman, damn it, a business
owner
.
Offense was the best defense. He decided to go in with both barrels blazing, as it were. As soon as the door opened, Brown strode in and stopped in front of Hamilton. “What is the meaning of this, George? You could have called and asked me to come in for a meeting. Is this any way to treat a respected member of the community?”
“This isn’t a meeting, Mr. Brown.” Colonel Hamilton nodded at a man who stood behind Brown and to his right, a man that he hadn’t even noticed when he entered the office.
“This is Captain Carville of the Texas Rangers. And what this is about, sir, is treason.”
“How dare you! I am a patriotic American.” Brown looked around the office. There were other men there, too. A couple of majors, and a few other officers, none of whom he knew. The MPs had accompanied him, and they’d brought their rifles into the colonel’s office with them.
“Are you going to stand there and tell me that you did not sabotage the fuel you sent us?”
“Sabotage?” Brown had no doubt the horror he felt at such a charge showed on his face. “Of course I didn’t sabotage it! That, sir, is a ridiculous charge!”
“We’re having a sample of that last shipment you sent us tested, but we can tell, just from the smell of it, that there’s kerosene in it. We’ll have the official analysis soon enough.” Hamilton’s tone, ice cold, let Brown know that his substitutions had indeed been discovered.
But that sure as hell wasn’t sabotage, and he sure as hell was no traitor!
Captain Carville stepped forward. “We also attained a warrant and I have a team of men at your refinery. They’re conducting a search as well as drawing samples of fuel from your tanks—both the ones you have ‘set aside’ for the airfield, here, and your other tanks.”
“What the hell were you thinking, man? Do you have any idea of the damage you’ve caused?”
Something in the way Hamilton asked that simply ignited Brown’s temper.
Self-righteous son of a bitch.
“Oh, give me a fucking break. I’m a businessman, and my job is to ensure that my company turns a profit. You set the price of what you were willing to pay for the fuel you needed, without having any idea how expensive it is to give you the higher-grade product you ordered. Sure, the gas I gave you may have caused your planes to run a little rough, but so what? I have to make a profit. That’s what America is all about.”
“You stupid son of a bitch.” Hamilton surged to his feet. “Your greed caused one of my planes to explode, midair, killing a man, a man under my command!”
For one moment Brown felt certain George Hamilton was going to punch him. The colonel looked at the MPs that flanked him. “Cuff this bastard and throw him in the brig.” Then he turned his gaze back to Brown. “As soon as the analyses come in, showing that the fuel has been doctored from what our contract calls for, you’ll be turned over to the Texas Rangers, and charged with treason.”
“I’m not a traitor! I’m a businessman!” Brown struggled but the two men proved too much for him. The metal handcuffs bit into his wrists. Heart pounding, fear a copper taste in his mouth, he tried to get the colonel to see reason.
“I was just trying to make a profit! You can’t arrest me for that!”
“Watch me.”
Brown screamed and fought as the MPs dragged him toward the door. He had to make them see reason. He had to!
They hanged traitors in this state, and Brown had no intention of going to the gallows for doing the same thing every other businessman did.
* * * *
“I never thought that I’d ever be grateful to have washed someone out of flight training.” Gerald tossed his car keys in the air, caught them, and then grinned at his brother.
“It looks like the Smith boys from Durant, Oklahoma are pretty damn glad you did it, too,” Patrick said.
The brothers were receiving promotions for their part in uncovering the sabotage at Goodfellow Field. They’d also gained the respect of Chief Master Sergeant Thomas, no small feat.
“I’m also grateful to have that mystery solved,” Gerald said. He reached for the driver’s door and then stopped. “Why don’t you drive?”
“Yes, why don’t I?”
Gerald nearly grimaced but handed over the keys. He knew his brother would drive faster than he would, but right now, that was fine.
He needed to hold his woman.
“You know,” Patrick said, “when Brown came into Colonel Hamilton’s office and I laid eyes on him for the first time, all I could think was that he didn’t much look like a traitor.”
Gerald shook his head. “When the MPs dragged him away and he kept screaming that he’d only doctored the fuel for the money, that he wasn’t a traitor, it made me think. I remembered how Grandpa Warren used to talk about the way some men’s souls were so black from greed that they could talk themselves into doing and believing damn near anything.”
“I thought about Grandmother Sarah,” Patrick said, “and how Tyrone Maddox had plotted to murder her so that he could steal her inheritance, as if he had a perfect right to do so.”
“
That
son of a bitch met his end with a shot to the chest, thanks to Grandfather Joshua,” Gerald said. “And I very much suspect that Mr. Brown is going to meet his at the end of a rope.”
Gerald thought about how quickly a life could change—or end. Roland Barnesdale, Captain, United States Army Air Corps, had taken to the skies just a few days ago, thinking to share his knowledge and expertise with his student. Minutes later, he’d been dead.
That very morning, Neil Brown had likely arisen, secure in his place in the world, in his rising fortunes, and his outlook for the future.
Now he was headed to prison, or, more likely, the hangman’s noose.
Life, by any measure, was just too damned short and precarious. He patted the envelop that was in his shirt pocket. “This was a surprise.”
Patrick shot him a quick glance, meeting him grin for grin. “That,” his brother said, “had Grandmother Sarah’s fingerprints all over it.”
“I thought so, too.”
“Well, she was pretty upset when we told her that Kate couldn’t marry us without having to leave the army
and
nursing,” Patrick said.
“She was,” Gerald agreed. “You know I’ve always had the utmost respect for Grandmother Sarah. Grandmother Amanda, too. They must have been a couple of real firecrackers in their day.”
“Not too hard to imagine with all the stories the grandfathers used to tell,” Patrick said.
“I just never imagined the woman’s reach extended to the Surgeon General of the United States, nor the War Department.”
“Well,” Patrick laughed. “We must have, because it was her we petitioned when we fell in love with our Kate.”
“True enough. Still, she amazes me. Do you know what I want?”
“Besides having our woman wedded and bedded between us every night for the rest of our lives?”
“Yeah, besides that. I want to be as much of a going concern as our grandmothers are—as our grandfathers
were
—when we reach their ages.”
Patrick nodded. “The only thing I can think of to say to that is amen.”
The drive to Lusty really didn’t take as long with his brother behind the wheel. It was early yet, not even full dark. Since the families—and Kate—knew they were coming home for their forty-eight-hour leave, they just headed to the Big House.
He hoped the family would be fine with the news they had—that they wouldn’t be able to make Thanksgiving, but they’d arrive on Christmas Eve, and have three days, instead of their usual two, as leave.
Gerald and Patrick had petitioned Colonel Hamilton, pleading a very specific reason—a reason that the colonel had already surmised when he’d handed him the copy of the letter currently in his pocket. A letter that was meant for Kate.
The letter wasn’t the only thing he had in his pocket for their woman.
“Let me see it one more time,” Patrick said.
Gerald reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the jeweler’s box. They’d gone into San Angelo one evening, hoping to find the perfect ring for their woman.
They’d always made a habit of living off their earnings, instead of the fortune that was banked, in their names, in Waco. For this purchase, they’d had no qualms, either of them, about dipping into those savings.
They’d have spent any amount for this, and yet the ring that had caught their eyes wasn’t as expensive as some. Neither flashy nor large, they both also knew, almost instinctively, that this was the right ring for their woman.
Set in solid gold, the twin diamonds lay horizontally, nestled between twin blue topaz aligned vertically. The ring was perfect. The setting reminded them of a star—fitting, for Texas. Also what the jeweler had told them about the pretty blue stones had, in their minds, clinched the deal.
Aside from being the birthstone for December, blue topaz represented patience, love, and fidelity.
Both Gerald and Patrick felt certain any woman willing to take them both on would need patience, just as they knew beyond doubt they had an infinite amount of love, and fidelity, for her.
“December isn’t her birth month but it will, hopefully, be the month our marriage is born.” Patrick met his gaze.
Gerald didn’t rib his brother for having damp eyes. He knew his were no drier. “Come on.” He closed the box and slid it back into his pocket. “Let’s go and propose to our woman.”
* * * *
Kate tried not to watch the clock, but it was hard. Since hearing about that accident over at Goodfellow Field earlier in the week, she’d felt a need growing inside her, a need that was reaching a fever pitch.
She needed to see her beloved men again. She needed to hold them, and kiss them, and yes, she needed to feel their naked flesh press against hers.
She needed to lie between them as they made love to her.
But there’d been work to do, a couple of new residents to help acclimate to life in the Convalescent Home. And, of course, there’d been Christmas to plan for.
She’d spoken to Charles Benedict first. He was the one who knew the situation best. He’d been injured when he’d served his country overseas, thankfully not seriously. But he’d had hurdles to overcome when he came home, and, of course, he was a man.
Kate knew her strengths. She was a good nurse and a fairly insightful person. But she didn’t really know the inner workings of a man’s mind, and that was crucial.
Once Charles had been consulted, and let her know she was on the right track, she’d needed to speak to Sarah and Amanda. What she wanted to do would cost money, and she had some put by, but not nearly enough to put her plan in motion.
She’d been nervous, going to see them. She wasn’t one, usually, to ask for a favor. But this was important, and worth swallowing her pride for. Once those gracious ladies heard what she’d wanted to do, they’d told her to keep her money tucked away.
“You have no idea just how ‘well heeled’ this family is, do you, Kate?” Amanda had asked.
“No, ma’am, I don’t. Money isn’t something I give much thought to.” Kate had looked from her to Sarah. “Growing up, I never did without, so I know I’ve been lucky. Since joining the Army Nurse Corps, I’ve gotten paid regularly, but I haven’t had to worry about paying for food or lodgings. I’ve spent a little when I’ve needed to, and the rest I’ve saved.”
“We can see that money’s not important to you. It wasn’t to us, either, when we were your age,” Sarah said. “When you get older, you’ll appreciate that money is more than just money, it’s options and opportunity and yes, leverage and power. That makes having it a huge responsibility”—Sarah’s eyes twinkled—“and sometimes, a lot of fun.”
Kate thought of the way Sarah had arranged for her to come here, to Lusty, because her grandsons had confessed to having fallen for her.
She had to say, from her own perspective, that Sarah Benedict had certainly become an expert at using her money to achieve her ends—and that was not a bad thing at all.
Amanda rubbed her hands together, then. “Your idea is a good one, Kate. I want to help you. Let’s see what we can do to make it happen.”