Rose (13 page)

“This your place?” the man who appeared to be the leader asked as they drew their horses to a stop in front of the house.

“It belongs to me and my brothers,” George told them. “Why do you ask?”

“We’re from the land office.”

“You got any proof?”

The man seemed shocked at George’s question. And annoyed.

“We don’t need no proof. We’re here to—”

“Either you show me proof or get off my land,” George said. He reached out to rest his hand on the barrel of his rifle.

The men stirred restlessly in their saddles, their hands not far from their guns. Rose knew that George wouldn’t have a chance if they started shooting. She eased the end of the shotgun through the open window.

“Show him the paper, Gabe,” the man next to the leader said. “Ain’t no use making a fuss unless we have to.”

The man’s cooperation didn’t allay Rose’s fears. She didn’t like his eyes. They looked tiny and mean. Worse still, he spoke with a more pronounced Yankee accent than the other.

Carpetbaggers.

“Dammit, Cato, ain’t nobody else asked for papers,” Gabe complained.

“They ought to,” George said. “Anybody could ride in here and pretend to be anybody they wanted to.”

“They look okay,” George said after he’d looked over the paper thrust at him, “but I’ll check when I go into Austin. Now what’s your business?”

Gabe looked disposed to argue, but Cato said, “Get on with it.”

“It’s our job to check on everybody who owns land in the county. And you seem to own a whole lot.”

“I told you, it belongs to me and my brothers. There are seven of us.”

“We don’t have no record of no brothers. All I see is one William Henry Randolph.”

“He’s dead.”

“Then I suppose we need to talk to Mrs. Randolph,” said Cato. “Could she be the young woman looking out the window there?”

Rose wanted to leap back into the shadows, but it was too late. She shouldn’t have been listening—George had every right to be angry with her—but it was too late to pretend she hadn’t been.

“No,” George answered. “My mother died three years ago.”

“Do you have any proof of your parents’ deaths?”

“I can show you my mother’s grave if you like. As for my father’s death, all I have is the word of witnesses. Written confirmation might be hard to get. He fought for the Confederacy.”

“You don’t have that long,” Gabe said. None of the men
seemed anxious to get down from his horse. There was a strained feeling about them that made Rose uncomfortable.

“I don’t see none of these brothers of yours about.”

“They don’t happen to be here at the moment, but they’ll be back tonight if you want to meet them.”

Gabe looked at Cato. Rose had no idea what they might be thinking, but she was certain they didn’t mean to be around when the boys got back.

“You haven’t paid your taxes,” Gabe said.

“I just got home, but I’m sure my brothers have paid all the taxes required of them.”

“We’ll check on that when I get back.”

“If you don’t know whether we’ve paid our taxes, how much, and when, you’re not from the land office,” George stated flatly, “and you can ride out now.”

“We didn’t mean your back taxes,” Cato said. “We mean you ain’t paid for this year. We’re here to figure out what you owe and collect it.”

Rose knew the taxes weren’t due until the end of the year, but she doubted George did.

“Why don’t you get down and come into the kitchen,” George invited.

“We’d rather stay where we are,” Cato said.

Rose saw George’s expression harden. He knew these men were going to try to cheat him.

“Our records show you own about sixty thousand acres.”

“We own the ranch jointly.”

“You can’t do that. It has to be in one person’s name.”

“Yes, we can, and no it doesn’t.”

“We know the law—”

“So do I. What else do you want to know?”

The men looked a little disconcerted by George’s confidence. Rose guessed that none of them had bothered to read the laws they were talking about.

“The tax is two dollars for every hundred dollars of value. Now let me see. For sixty thousand acres that comes to…”

Rose gasped. They had quoted a hugely inflated rate. They must have heard about Jeff paying for their supplies with gold and come to see how much they could get out of George. She doubted any money would ever reach Austin.

“…I can’t figure that high without paper,” Cato said with what Rose thought was a greedy grin, “but it’s thousands, all payable in gold.”

“I don’t have that kind of money,” George said, “and certainly not in gold.”

He had lost color. From the enormity of the sum, Rose was sure.

“That’s not what we heard,” Cato said.

“It doesn’t matter what you heard,” George snapped, “I don’t have that much gold.”

“How much do you have?” Gabe asked.

“Not even a tithe of that.”

Rose could see they were disappointed.

“The tax has still got to be paid. And today.”

Rose noticed that the other men had gradually shifted their positions until they formed a wide circle around George. Too wide for him to keep them all covered. One of the men had his hand awfully close to his gun handle.

Rose gradually shifted the direction of her shotgun and tightened her finger on the trigger.

“If that’s the tax, we’ll pay it,” George said, his eyes never leaving Cato, his hand never leaving the rifle, “but you’ll have to wait until we can gather our cattle and make a sale.”

“We got orders to collect the money today,” Gabe said, reaching into his pocket and handing George a folded paper. “Look for yourself.”

Rose could tell from George’s expression that the directions were painfully clear.

George had only recently returned home. How could he know Texas law? She couldn’t allow him to be cheated. But would they believe her if she spoke up?

“If you ain’t got money, we got to have something of equal value.”

“I don’t have anything worth that much.”

“Maybe we’ll look around, just to make sure,” Cato said, “but that bull will make a start.”

Rose stiffened. Losing the bull would take the spine out of George’s plans for the ranch. She couldn’t let that happen.

“If you’ll just wait until we can sell some cattle, even some land…”

“That paper says we can’t wait,” Cato said, starting to dismount. “Now if you’ll just step aside…”

George’s rifle was pointing at Cato’s heart before his foot reached the ground.

“Nobody searches my house,” George said, “not today or any other. You’ll get your money, but you’ll have to wait.”

Cato paused in the uncomfortable position of one foot in the stirrup and one on the ground.

“Now look here, Mr. Randolph,” he said, “there’s no use getting riled. We got our orders. We can’t do nothing about that. You let us take what we have to. You can buy it back once you get your money.”

“Get back in that saddle.”

“Now why would I do that? There’s only one of you and six of us.”

“I’ll get you and Gabe first,” George said. His gaze never wavered.

“I’ll get the others,” Rose said.

Shock registered throughout the group. Rose had come out of the house to take up a position in the breezeway. Several hands paused in midair.

“Your figures are wrong, Mr. Cato.”

She wanted to call them liars, yellow-bellied carpet-baggers, but it was crucial that there be no shooting. No matter what the outcome, George was certain to be killed.

“Now look, Mrs. Randolph—” Gabe started.

Rose flushed involuntarily, but she decided it would be better if they continued to think she was George’s wife.

“The tax is twenty cents for every hundred dollars of value.”

“The taxes have been raised—”

“I know. They were raised this past winter. They doubled it from ten cents.”

“Lady, you can’t know, living out here—”

“I lived in Austin until just a few weeks ago. I know exactly what the taxes are.”

“Our orders say—”

“Then your orders are wrong. Go back and get correct ones.”

George stared at Rose, fully as surprised as Gabe and Cato.

“I can’t change no orders just like that,” Gabe said, snapping his fingers. “You got to pay up now. You can talk to the land office about your refund.”

“No.” It was George, and he was adamant.

“It’s got to be paid today,” Cato repeated.

“No, it doesn’t,” Rose contradicted. “We have until the first of the year.”

“Ma’am, I’m telling you, our orders say the taxes have to be paid now. The laws have been changed.”

“They couldn’t have been,” Rose stated. “The legislature isn’t in session, and they’re the only ones who can change tax laws.”

“Okay, let’s say it’s only twenty cents,” Cato conceded. “At five dollars an acre you’ll have—”

“It’s not worth one dollar per acre,” Rose contradicted.

“Look here, woman—”

“The term
lady
is still appropriate,” George said.

The men looked uneasy now. Having been thrown for a loss, they struggled to regain their confidence.

“Look, ma’am—”

“River bottom land along the coast is selling for less than three dollars. Land west of here has been going for sixty-five to seventy cents. I saw it in the paper. I heard people talking about it.”

“Tax value ain’t made up from land sale prices,” Gabe said, attempting to intimidate Rose.

“I know that,” Rose said. “They’re placed at about half of the real value. If your
paper
says differently, it’s wrong.”

Silence. A deadlock.

What should she do now? She knew they weren’t going to calmly turn around and go back to Austin. She had heard about groups like this showing up at outlying homesteads and taking everything they could carry off, including food. George wasn’t going to let them raid his home. She could see that.

But could George stop them?

She could. But if she did, if she divulged her secret, she would have to leave the ranch right away. Maybe even tonight. Just the thought of leaving caused her pain, but she knew there was no future for her here. It would be better to help George and leave before it became any more difficult to tear him out of her heart.

Before anyone could do anything, they heard the clatter of hooves, and the boys came into view. Between Salty and Hen, tied to a pole whose ends rested on their saddles, hung the carcass of a wild boar. Monty carried a wounded dog across his lap.

“Look what we got,” Zac said as he galloped up to the small gathering. “Salty says he knows how to make real Georgia barbecue.”

“I know I brought everybody home too early, ma’am,” Salty apologized when they reached the steps, his eyes surveying the men gathered in front of George, “but we got to cure this pig tonight or it’ll spoil. Pork just won’t keep when it’s this hot.” Rose noticed that he had maneuvered the pole so his shooting arm was free.

“I have no idea how to cure a pig,” Rose said, staring at the huge, black, mud- and blood-flecked carcass.

“I’ll see to it, ma’am,” Salty offered. “All I need is a little help now and then.” He and Hen maneuvered the boar between George and Gabe and Cato.

“I need to keep Homer home for a few days,” Monty said, sliding out of the saddle. He lifted the panting dog off the saddle and carried him to his favorite resting place on the breezeway. “He strained something in his leg.” He took up a position just behind Rose, his hand inches away from his gun.

“You shoulda seen us chasing it,” Zac said, excited to tell Rose all the details, impervious to the tension all about him.

“You can tell Rose later,” George said. “I’m talking to these men on business.”

Gabe and Cato didn’t look very happy to find themselves suddenly facing six men, all of them armed and fearless.

“What are they doing here?” Jeff demanded, coming to stand next to George. “I saw them hanging around Austin.”

“They’re from the land office,” George said. “They’re here about our taxes.”

“They’ve been paid,” Monty said.

“We settled that. Rose is trying to help them figure out the new tax figures.”

“Rose?” Jeff said, surprised. “What can she know?”

“Apparently quite a bit,” George said.

“We still haven’t settled on the tax value,” Gabe stated.

“What is it?” George asked, turning to Rose.

She had been prepared to step back inside and leave the rest of the negotiations to the men. But she couldn’t refuse George’s invitation.

“If the land’s worth a dollar an acre—and that’s about twice as high as it ought to be, check when you go into Austin—you’ve got six hundred one-hundred-dollar values. At twenty cents per hundred, that comes out to something over a hundred dollars.”

“One hundred and twenty,” Jeff said.

“Cut that in half,” Rose finished.

“Sixty dollars,” George said.

The men looked angry at the small sum mentioned, but they didn’t leave.

“There’s another problem,” Gabe said to George.

He looked belligerent now, his telltale New England accent stronger than ever. Having had his game spoiled, Rose figured he was going to cause as much trouble as possible.

“Did you fight in the Confederate Army?”

“Yes.”

“Did any of your brothers?”

“I did,” Jeff volunteered.

“Then you can’t vote or hold any public office. You’re also subject to a special tax.”

“You’re lying,” Rose said. She had thrown down a challenge. There would be no easy way out now.

“You’re obviously here for no other reason than to see how much trouble you can cause,” George said. “Get off my land.”

“I don’t think we ought to let them go,” Hen said.

“If you so much as lay a finger on us,” Gabe warned, “I’ll send the army in here.”

“You can’t let the army come here,” Rose whispered to George. “They burned down Brenham, and not a single person was arrested. They even attacked Brownsville.”

“Couldn’t nobody do anything about it,” Gabe bragged. “In fact, I think I’ll notify General Charles Griffin as soon as I get back. He ain’t been at all friendly with ex-Confederates.”

The Randolph men stood in a line with George flanked by Rose and Salty. Zac had been pushed to the rear.