Legacy (3 page)

The spruce had been planted so close together that they scarcely had room to grow. But my horse smelled something. It snorted and jerked at the bridle, nearly tearing the reins out of my hand. Whatever it was afraid of was not far away.

I steadied my horse and looked again at the wall of trees. Should I go in there? Of course, I was trespassing on Brad Graybar's land, but someone might be in danger. Then, even as I hesitated the voice came again, this time louder and more frightened.

I made up my mind, walking up to the trees and parting the boughs of the nearest one. Instinctively, I crouched low, as close to the trunk as I could get, while I peered between the limbs and the stiff blue-green needles.

I could see clearly. On the other side of a wide green lawn stood what could only be Graybar's Castle. The high walls were smooth, shaped in the graceful lines of an Italian villa, and covered with that heavy yellow stucco they said Brad had brought in by railroad. On the far side I could see one of the two stone towers that gave the mansion its medieval quality. This turret rose a full sixty feet into the air, and its companion piece around at the front rose even higher. I could see the top of the front tower over the pink-tiled roof, the stone blocks with the open spaces between them calling to mind a shadowy host of defenders who might be hidden there, ready to hurl down missiles and arrows at any attackers. Amidst the green of the lawn and the darker green of the surrounding forest, the castle seemed richly elegant, even from this distance. And, yet, though the afternoon sun flooded over the pink roof and the high walls of the castle's western side, the building looked strangely cold. Breathtaking, imposing, but cold.

Then I saw two men on horseback coming around to the lawn from the other side of the mansion, about a hundred yards away. Behind the two horses were ropes. The riders were dragging something along the ground.

In a moment I realized that what they were dragging was a man.

As I tried to reason through what had happened, another man, grey-haired and wearing a white shirt, came out of the mansion's rear entrance and walked towards the two riders while they dismounted. Soon they all stood together on the lawn, in the shadow of the stone walls.

What should I do? At this distance I could not recognize any of the men. I thought of riding out there with a story about being lost. Maybe that would stop them from whatever they had been doing to make that poor fellow scream so. But that would only be temporary. They might just give me directions and send me away and then go on with what they were doing after I was out of sight.

On the other hand, I could not ride out there and order them to stop. I had not seen them do anything. I did not even know who they were, except I was fairly certain that the grey-haired man who had come from the house was Brad Graybar. I was trespassing to boot, which hardly put me in a position to give them orders.

I decided to go around the edge of the clearing closer to where they stood, keeping out of their line of sight behind the spruce trees. If I saw something I couldn't prevent, my father would be only too happy to see that Brad Graybar received just punishment. I made certain my horse was comfortable where he stood, and then I walked around behind the spruces in the direction of the house, wishing with every step that the expensive riding boots Father had bought me didn't have such thin leather soles.

I stopped where I could hear a harsh voice.

'A name, Shaw, give me a name.'

I bent down behind a big blue spruce and found that the afternoon sun was directly in my eyes, coming from just over the treetops. Squinting, I shaded my eyes with one hand until I could see clearly. I was not twenty yards away from where the men were standing.

The man I was certain was Brad Graybar stood over the man who had been dragged, as though he were about to kick him.

The man lay prone. I could see the ropes tied to his wrists; the other ends were still attached to the saddles of the two horses. The two riders had mounted up again.

Brad was a big man, with a spreading waistline and a tall, long face, craggy and leathery, almost like an Indian's. He wore a crisp white shirt, well-creased black trousers, and black shoes as well shined as if he had just been at a formal dance. I knew that the Graybar mansion entertained frequently, even though Brad was a widower, but it struck me as unusual to see him dressed so well out here on his lawn astride a man in torn work clothes. For a moment I thought of Brad's ball next Saturday and the invitations that had set off such a stir in our family this morning. Then Brad bent over the man and my attention was riveted.

'You didn't think of it yourself, did you, Shaw?' He took a good handful of the man's hair in his grip and yanked the head up straight. Shaw had a thin, weak-jawed farm boy's face. He looked to be perhaps twenty-five, thin and gangly.

A trickle of blood came from one corner of his open mouth. 'I . . . dunno what ya mean.'

Brad looked him straight in the eye for a minute, the way a man does while he holds the head of a dog or a horse. Then he twisted Shaw's head around away from him towards the big oak tree midway between the house and the edge of the back clearing.

'Who was it, Shaw? You wouldn't just spike the logs in your own mill. Someone outside gave you those spikes. Someone wanted to slow us down. Isn't that right, Shaw?'

'I dunno what this is. Lemme go out of these ropes.'

Brad brought the man's head up higher, nearly lifting him up off his knees and on to his feet. Then he let Shaw settle back down again, taking care to keep the face pointed at the oak tree.

'Shaw, we don't have any use for you if you can't give us a name. You know that?'

'Lemme go, I tell ya. I ain't done nothin'.'

'You, Garth.' Brad looked at one of the men on horseback, a fat man with reddish hair. 'Anybody see you bring Shaw up here with you?'

'No, sir. Brought him in the carriage, just like you said.'

The other man, dark and wiry, steadied his horse as it snorted and took a few steps, stretching one rope taut and pulling Shaw's arm up by the wrist.

'All right, now, Shaw. I'm going to give you one more chance to make yourself useful. I want you to look at that big, hard oak tree out there in the middle of the lawn, all by itself. And now I want you to tell me who gave you those spikes. Don't be afraid of him, whoever he is. We'll see to it that he doesn't harm you. Just tell us his name.'

A moment went by. Then: 'I can't tell ya nothin'.'

Brad let go of the man's hair and examined the ropes on Shaw's wrists, checking to see that they still were tied securely. Then he stepped back. 'All right, then.' He dusted off his hands. 'You, Parsons, ride for the left side of the oak out there. Garth, you ride for the right side. Ride hard now, but keep even, just side by side, with Shaw, here, right in the middle. When you get up to the tree, keep right on riding, hard and fast, so he hits the tree just face-on.'

Parsons sucked in his breath. The man called Garth only nodded.

Brad continued. 'Then if his arms are still attached, you bring him on back and try it again.'

I stared in horror at the man called Shaw, who had slumped over, one cheek on the warm earth. His mouth hung open while he tried to comprehend what they were going to do with him. The big calf eyes looked up at Brad, then around at the house, as if he hoped someone would come to rescue him. The horses pulled him around, straightening the ropes, until he was flat on his belly with his arms stretched out towards the tree. They waited, and he hauled himself up on to his knees. Then he sat back on his haunches.

I tried to cry out, but words would not come. My mouth was dry with fear. I struggled to stand up, to distract them, but I could not move. I was frozen as Brad nodded to the men, and then the two horses started to move forward.

Then Shaw began to scream, and I struggled again to rise and somehow stop them. Instead, I felt myself falling. The ground, darkening, rushed up at me, but before I landed I lost consciousness.

I awoke in the same place to the pain of the stiff spruce needles on my cheeks. My hands were clutching the tree's rough bark for support. The sticky resin was all over my fingers. I looked out on to the lawn, and saw the man called Shaw kneeling on the ground, thoroughly drenched with what must have been water from the bucket Parsons was now holding. Shaw was soaked and shivering, but his face appeared unhurt. They must have stopped, I thought. They must have frightened him into telling them the truth.

I strained to hear what they were saying. The wind made the branches overhead rustle and sing, though, and I was still dazed, so it was hard to concentrate.

'Give me the name,' I heard Brad say. 'Or do I tell Parsons to get back on his horse?'

Shaw shook himself and wiped water from his eyes before he looked up. 'I don't know who you are, mister,' he said, 'but I'll tell you what you want to know.'

'Go ahead, then.'

'I was workin' the feeder bin one afternoon when this guy I never seen before comes over near me and says my name.'

'What did he look like? Who was he working for?'

'Didn't say. Tall, had a real orange head of hair, brighter'n any I ever seen before. He didn't say his name.'

Brad looked at the other two. 'Mean anything?'

Garth spoke. 'Man like that works for Rawlings, up by the long reach - when he works. Most times he don't. Name's Campbell. Could be him, but he don't come into town much, 'cept to get drunk.'

'Rawlings!' There was a fury in Brad's voice that made me wince. 'All right, then, Shaw, what did he tell you?'

Shaw began to whimper. 'He said I could have two hundred dollars if I just put fifty spikes in the stock we had waitin' last night. Two hundred dollars if I did, but if I didn't, or if I told, he said they'd come for Alice . . .' His voice broke off for a moment, and then he said, 'You wouldn't let 'em do nothin' to Alice, would ya, mister? I ain't goin' to tell no one, I swear. I don't even know what your name is.'

'Nobody's going to do anything to Alice,' Brad said. 'Now, tell me, did this man give you the two hundred dollars yet?'

'He said he'd give it to me later, after he saw the repair crew come into the mill.' Shaw wiped his nose on his sleeve, getting his face dirty again.

'Where's he going to meet you?'

'He didn't tell me that.' Shaw looked up at Brad as if he were afraid of being struck across the mouth.

Brad shook his head, seemingly disgusted. 'Well, we'll keep an eye on the both of you in the meantime. Maybe we'll even put on a little repair show down at the mill.' He turned to Parsons. 'All right, then. Get some whisky in him and make it look like he got drunk and fell down and messed up his clothes. Dose him up good and lead him down the mountain to town. When you get to the edge of the woods, you can turn him loose.'

He nodded once to the three of them, and then he turned and headed for the house, his long strides swift and authoritative.

As I watched him go inside and heard the door close tight, the anger boiled up inside me. How could they connect my father with this cowardly sabotage based only on a man's red hair? And how could they go on tormenting this man? They were struggling with him on the ground, trying to force whisky from a bottle down his throat.

It was foolish of me, but I was not going to stand idly by for another moment. I forgot that I should have been back at the stables by now. I forgot that I was trespassing, and for the moment I forgot that these two men had been prepared to carry out a cold-blooded murder.

I stood up and pushed between the trees, the boughs catching on my jacket. The thin dark man saw me first as I stepped out on to the lawn. His face took on an astonished look for a moment. Then he was up and running towards me. Before I could speak or move another step, he had grabbed my wrist and twisted it painfully behind my back. His chin dug into my shoulder from behind, and his voice rasped horribly close to my ear. 'Trespassin', ain't you? The boss likes to find out about trespassers.'