Chapter 30
Ben stepped uncertainly into the inn. His wounds still pained him terribly, and sitting up at the jail speaking to Hattie the day before had nearly worn him out.
Doc Armstrong and Edith had clucked and fussed over him, and they’d tried to stop him from this errand, but Ben wouldn’t hear of it. He had to find out why Hattie wanted him to come here.
“Well, hello,” a young woman purred. She wore an apron and carried a mop and bucket, but she batted her eyes at him as she approached. “Are you looking for a room?”
“No, thank you. I’m looking for Randall Davies. I understand he’s staying here?”
“Oh. Yes.” The young woman gave him a pouting look, but she directed him to a small room behind the common area. It had its own fireplace, a thick rug, and high-quality furniture.
Ben guessed this was where they allowed the wealthier guests to relax. He saw only one of them, a man with a heavy paunch who sat with his feet up and a cigar in his mouth. His bushy mustache was almost completely white, but there were still blond streaks in his hair.
Ben cleared his throat as he approached. “Are you Mr. Davies?”
The man jerked his head toward Ben, annoyance in his face as he closed his book. His eyes swept over Ben and then brightened. “Ah, so you’ve come!”
“Sir?” Mr. Davies was a rich and powerful man according to Hattie’s account. Ben wasn’t used to dealing with men like him, and he approached cautiously. “I don’t believe we know each other.”
“Oh, certainly we do!” Mr. Davies’ feet clomped against the floor as he removed them from the footstool. He stood up and strode over, grinning with excitement. “Perhaps not the way you’re expecting; I’ll give you that.”
“I don’t understand.” Ben was beginning to think this was a mistake. He should just thank Mr. Davies for helping the orphans and be on his way.
Mr. Davies let out a low whistle as he studied Ben’s face.
“I don’t want to give the little tramp any credit, but she was right.
You’re the spitting image of Oscar. That’s a little disturbing, if you don’t mind my saying so, but it still pleases me.
Come. Sit down. I’ll have the girl bring you a whiskey while we talk. ”
The maid who’d initially greeted him must have been listening just outside the doorway, because she rushed in a moment later with a glass.
“Thank you,” Ben mumbled and took a sip. He was going to need a drink if he was ever going to understand what was going on. “I’m a little confused, Mr. Davies.”
“Please, call me Randall. That’ll do for now.” He leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs and his hands between his knees, staring at Ben with uncomfortable intensity. “She didn’t tell you, did she?”
“Tell me what?” He was tired and in pain. Discovering that Hattie would be spending the rest of her life in prison had thrown him for a loop that had kept him up half the night. Ben wanted to get this over with—whatever it was—and go home.
“No, I figured as much,” Randall concluded. “She was leaving it up to us. That girl has a lot of problems, but I’m grateful she managed to get us in the same room together despite it all.”
“And I’m grateful that you helped arrange for aid to be send to St. Thomas.”
“Isn’t it the least I could do, after all they’ve done for me?” Randall chuckled at his own private joke. “All right. I’ll just cut to the chase. My son Oscar recently died and left me with no heirs. Hattie saw to that. I won’t forgive her, no matter what else she’s tried to do for me.”
Ben gripped his whiskey glass hard, trying to keep his temper just a little longer.
“But the thing is, Oscar wasn’t my only son,” Randall went on.
“Things got a little out of hand with a saloon girl. She came to me, all upset over it. You know how women can get. I helped her out a little, even though she had no right to claim anything from me. When the child was born, I had her take it to an orphanage. To St. Thomas, to be exact.”
Things were slowly becoming clear to Ben, but he couldn’t believe they were true.
“I see it in your eyes!” Randall crowed. “You’ve probably waited your whole life for some rich daddy to come along and save you from your miserable existence at the orphanage. Well, here I am, son!”
As Randall laughed some more, Ben knocked back the last of his whiskey. His father knew where he was the whole time, but he’d never shown up or said anything.
Even stranger, Ben was Oscar’s brother. He’d been traveling with and protecting the very woman who’d killed his brother, but he was only just now finding out. The room swayed around him. “Why do you care now?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Randall boomed. “I don’t have an heir anymore, now that Oscar is gone. I’m too old to bother raising another child, but I don’t want all my hard work to be for nothing. What’s the point if it’s all lost when I die? You’re the new heir to the Davies fortune.”
Ben’s stomach churned. His body vibrated, and his vision darkened around the edges. The heir to a fortune? It was too good to be true.
“Now, of course, you have to do your part,” Randall went on. “You’ll come and live with me. Learn everything about my business, do your part, become a true part of my family. It’s only right. Then, hopefully many years from now, you’ll have the home and all of my wealth. What do you say?”
He couldn’t say anything for a long moment. Ben had only just met Randall, but he’d already developed a hatred for him after what he’d done to Hattie.
Yes, she’d killed his son, but Randall had ensured that nobody would believe any of the truth behind that death. Randall had been ready to accept Hattie as his daughter-in-law, but he’d turned around and painted her as a murderer as soon as it was convenient for him.
It was hard not to think about all that he could do with such wealth, though.
Sister Matthews and the children of St. Thomas would never need to suffer again if he had any say so.
Becoming Randall’s son and working with him at his business would also give him a purpose in life, something he’d been trying to figure out since the war.
But was it worth it? Ben couldn’t be entirely sure what kind of man Randall was. He didn’t know him, but he did know that he’d kept the Kincaid brothers in his employ. Hattie’s side of the story had told Ben plenty about Randall’s morality.
And yet, Hattie had wanted him to visit with Randall. She was a wild, impetuous girl, but she understood more about the world than she let on.
He looked Randall in the eyes, the same blue eyes that were on his own face. “When do we get started?”
* * *
“This piece of property is exactly what I need.” Randall pulled his horse to a halt and looked around. “It’s nice and flat. There aren’t very many obstacles we’d have to work around. Mountains and rivers are always trouble.”
It’d been several months since Ben had left Antelope Springs with Randall.
In that time, Ben had traveled to the Davies estate in Prescott.
He’d been given his own quarters, and the staff treated him as though he’d always been a part of the Davies family.
He’d had plenty of time to recover, though Randall had spent just about every moment talking to him.
Once he was able to ride again without issue, they’d taken to the saddle. Randall had shown him every inch of his property, and now they were exploring the new land that he wanted to buy.
It turned out that being a railroad magnate meant owning more land than Ben could imagine.
The properties extended throughout Arizona and into the surrounding states.
Whatever city they went through, all the bankers knew who Randall was.
They were even eager to shake Ben’s hand, though Ben knew it didn’t have anything to do with him.
“What about the farmer who’s been working it?” Ben noted the neat rows that’d recently been planted for the spring. “It’s too late for him to start his crops over again if he moves to different land.”
Randall made a dismissive sound with his lips. “That’s what I get for letting the orphanage raise you, boy! You’re too soft! Why should we care about any of that? This country is full of land, and he can grow these crops anywhere.”
A dark anger crept in at the edges of Ben’s mind, and not for the first time.
Randall was rude to his staff, sometimes bordering on cruel.
He bought and sold land without any regard for who lived on it or their circumstances.
He coerced people to sell, forcing them to believe it was the right financial decision for them when it only left them poor and homeless.
Never once did he pay a penny more than he wanted to for any piece of land, either. If his offers were turned down, the landowners always changed their mind in short order.
When Ben had asked him about this, Randall had simply waved his hand. “It’s very simple, my boy! They understand me. I know more about this than they ever could. And if they don’t happen to realize that, well then, I make sure they do.”
It was always after one of these failed agreements that Chester and Morris, a couple of men whom Randall employed but didn’t seem to have specific jobs, would disappear for a while. Then, miraculously, the landowner would be willing to sell at the exact price Randall had asked.
That remained on Ben’s mind, and it niggled at him as they rode through the farm field.
Ben wasn’t dealing with a generous father who was happy to be reunited with his son.
He was living under the roof of a dangerous man who would happily through anyone who didn’t agree with him in front of one of his trains.
“I just meant that it gives the farmer leverage,” Ben clarified. “He might think he has the right to ask for more money with that in mind.”
“Well, now!” Randall leaned over and clapped him on the shoulder. “I suppose that means you’ve been listening to me all this time! I could tell you were a smart one, Ben. Now, let’s go see what we can negotiate.”