Chapter Twenty

When they entered the cabin's clearing, Marston glanced down at Langley as the boy rubbed at his cold-reddened nose and sniffed. The boy's eyes widened and Marston followed his gaze to see a horse hitched beside the barn.

"That's his horse, Marston!" Langely exclaimed. "That's the banker's horse. What if he's in there hurting mama?"

Marston laid his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Calm down, Langley. How do you know that's the banker's horse?"

"Because of those fancy golden stirrups!" Langley was near tears. "What if he's in there with mama?"

Marston breathed deep through his nose, fighting back his own worry and rage. "Calm down. He's not in there with your mama," Marston assured him, glancing around the clearing.

"How do you know?" Langley demanded.

"Do you see any fresh dew tracks going up the porch steps?" Marston asked. Langley studied the steps from a distance and shook his head. "Well alright then."

Marston studied the grass and saw the tracks in the dew. Footsteps leading around toward the back of the cabin—toward Rose's bedroom window.

His blood began to boil.

"Langley I want you to go to the barn and feed the horses."

"But..."

"Don't argue with me!" Marston snapped. Langley's blue eye widened and he took a step back. Marston took a steadying breath. "Just go tend to the horses and the stalls while I tend to the banker."

Langley nodded and scurried off, disappearing inside the barn. Marston dropped the doe to the ground. Skinning the dear would have to wait; Marston had a banker to tend to first.

He slipped as silent as a shadow around the back of the cabin and pulled out his knife. He stopped dead in his tracks when he came to the back of the cabin and found who he assumed was Winston Meade, peeping into Rose's window.

The man opened up the shutters and began hoisting himself up, clearly intending to climb right in. "Can I help you?" Marston whispered, stepping in close to the banker.

Marston grabbed Winston Meade and clamped a bloody hand over the man's mouth to keep him silent as he pulled him from the window. Marston saw that Rose was still inside sleeping peacefully.

Marston looked down at the man who had threatened to force Rose the last time he'd been around and who was now attempting to crawl through her window. Marston stared down at the man who was going to die.

"I see no reason to wake the lady," Marston growled. "You're probably wondering who I am," Marston mused. "Let's take a long walk down the river and I'll tell you."

Marston continued to hold the man's arm tightly in one hand and keep him silent with the other. Marston dragged the bastard a good half a mile into the woods, following the river. He didn't stop until he came to a place where the bank was swollen and the current roaring. It would be impossible for screams to carry back to the cabin from here.

Marston released his hold on the banker and the man instantly spun and staggered backward. Marston looked the man up and down, sizing up his quarry. Winston Meade had pale, nearly colorless gray eyes that were wide and shining with fear. His thick black eyebrows were raised high and nearly hidden beneath his heavy bangs. His body was short but it was stocky and strong and Marston assumed the man used that build to help him take advantage of women on their own.

Marston would see to it that he never did so again.

Winston Meade tugged on his suit jacket and glared at Marston. "Exactly do you think you are and what right do you have to manhandle me in such a manner?"

Marston snorted. "My name is Marston Jacob's. Im the man of the house around here."

"No." Winston shook his head. "The man of the house was Langston Howell and he is dead."

Marston loved the way the man's face paled as he took in the sight of the blood covered Marston's clothes and hands.

Marston shrugged. "I'm the new man of the house. Who the hell are you?"

The banker puffed up his chest. "My name is Winston Meade and I work for Millerton Bank and Trust."

Marston scratched at his neck and picked away a bit of deer gore. "Right..." he dragged out the word slowly. "And what were you doing climbing in my woman's window?"

Winston let out a squeak and shook his head. "I was not climbing in anyone's window!"

Marston took his time fetching a cigarette from his pocket and moved even more slowly as he took out a book of matches and lit the tobacco. He took a long draw off the cigarette and blew his smoke directly into Winston's face. "Well you sure as hell better not tell me that you climbing out of it."

Winston staggered back and coughed as the smoke assaulted his senses. "Certainly not!" He licked his lips and swallowed hard. "Mrs. Howell owes Millerton Bank and Trust a substantial amount of money and I am simply here to collect a payment."

Marston let his cigarette hang off his lip as he pulled his large knife. He ran the blade along his palm, careful not to break the skin and he could hear Winston's knee's knocking together. "Well, that's interesting because I sent enough money directly to Millerton Bank and Trust to pay off Rose's debts and the money was sent back to me along with a note informing me that her debt is already taken care of and that you no longer work for them."

Marston thought perhaps Winston might vomit as the man heaved. "I..uh.. that is.." It was clear the banker's brain had ceased to power his mouth.

Marston stepped forward. "Let me tell you how this is going to work. You're going to give me every dime that you've taken from Rose over the last three years."

Winston shook his head. "I don't.. I don't have it.. but if you'll simply let me go, I can get it..."

Marston's cold chuckle had Winston's weak pleading trailing off. Marston put his knife away and pulled out a second cigarette. He placed the rolled tobacco and paper between Winston's trembling lips and fired up a match.

Winston's pale gray eyes eyed him warily as Marston brought the match up to the cigarette and held it to the tip.

Once the cigarette was lit, Marston crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not letting you go anywhere, banker man."

"Please! Please, I will get the money!" Winston pleaded, folding his hands and holding them out to Marston. Marston could taste his fear and he soaked it in, thoroughly enjoying the rush he got from it.

As Winston stared at him with tear-filled eyes, Marston felt no guilt, no uncertainty and no doubt. This was who he was. A cold-hearted man who could torment and kill without mercy if the situation called for it.

"That pocket watch is probably worth a pretty penny," Marston noted, tilting his head toward the chain hanging across Winston's belly.

The man was quick to undo the chain with trembling hands and offer it to Marston who was even more quick to take it. "What do you have in your pockets?" Marston asked.

Winston frowned before digging in each of his pockets and removing several paper bills, a few coins and a pocketknife.

"What about your boots?" Marston added, after pocketing everything in Winston's hands.

Winston appeared ready to run and he wrung his hands. "There's nothing in my boots, sir. I hardly see any reason why I should have to remove them."

Marston growled and squared his shoulders. "Empty your goddamn boots, banker man."

Winston nearly lost his balance and fell as he stood on one leg, pulled off his boot and dumped the contents onto the cold, muddy ground. A small rope, a boot knife and a gang had Marston seeing red.

"What did you plan on doing with those?" Marston snarled, his carefully placed mask of politeness falling to the wayside as rage contorted his features.

"N..nothing.." Winston stammered. "Please.. please don't kill me..."

Marston's knuckles popped as he strode forward another step. "Oh, you're going to die here today, banker man. I can promise you that."

Winston Meade's small eyes darted to all the trees around them and Marston smiled. "Go ahead and scream. We're miles from anywhere but the cabin and you're voice would never carry back there over all this water."

"Please....?" Winston choked out, tears streaming down his face and his lips quivering. He took another staggering step back and nearly tumbled over the two foot drop into the rocky, raging river.

"Please what, you sniveling sack of shit. What exactly were the gag, the knife and the rope for? Were they an insurance policy in case the lady wasn't willing to give you your payment?"

"Just let me go, please..." Winston's cigarette slipped from his fingertips and fell into the swift current below. "I'll leave, sir, and I'll never come back. I swear it."

"You're not leaving here alive, Winston," Marston shook his head. "I know men like you. Hell, there's a part of me that is a man like you. That woman's in your blood now." Marston drew in a sharp breath between his teeth. "I understand. There's just something about her, isn't there? She's so soft and warm with all that red hair and pale skin. She's all alone out here fending for herself—what kind of man could resist that?"

Winston licked his lips and nodded, swiping at the tears on his face with the back of his hand. "Exactly. So you see my temptation?"

Marston stalked forward another step and Winston whimpered as he shrank away in fear. "Oh yes. I see your temptation. Tell me though, what would you have done if the boy had come in the room? He could have been a problem. Or is that what that gun is for?" Marston asked, tipping his head toward the .38 revolver barely visible beneath the edge of Winston's jacket.

Winston remained silent but Marston could see the truth shining in the bastard's eyes. He hadn't planned on letting Rose or Langley live past today. Marston's hand shot out and snatched Winston's up by the throat, squeezing hard.

He smiled when he saw the weasel's hand inching toward his gun. "Pull it," Marston snarled. "Pull it and you'll be dead before you can fully clear leather."

The coppery scent of the deer's blood was think in the air around them and Winston gagged. "I beg of you... please, don't kill me....I give you my word.."

Winston's words were cut off when Marston squeezed tighter. "Your word doesn't mean a damn thing to me. You were going to rape my woman."

"No..."

"You were going to kill my boy."

"No....I..."

Marston sneered as Winston became a blubbering mess. "I won't spend my life looking over my shoulder or worrying that you'll come around every time I leave that cabin." Winston just whimpered and was clearly struggling to breathe under Marston's grip. "I hope you've made peace with your maker, banker man, cuz I'm fixin' to send you to him."

Winston's eyes widened as Marston hauled him off his throat by his neck and threw him down into the water. His body squirmed, his legs kicked and his arms flailed as he thrashed about, trying to escape. Marston's grip never wavered as he held the man's head firmly beneath the water.

After several long minutes, Winston stopped kicking and his body went limp. Marston held him under a bit longer just because he truly hated the bastard.

Swiping water from his face with his free arm, Marston smiled.

Now there was one less evil bastard breathing the same air as Rose and Langley.