“Pilar made cookies. Have some.”
“No, thank you, I already did,” Chris said without thinking, then looked at Pilar. There was understanding in her eyes. “On second thought, I think I’ll lie down a while. Maybe the loss of blood is making me weak.”
Chris left the kitchen and was on her way upstairs when Owen called to her.
“Diana, could you come in here? There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Owen called from the parlor.
Chris knew it was the visitor she’d heard earlier and she wanted to meet this man, but as soon as she saw him, she stood still, unable to move. It wasn’t that the man was ugly nor was there anything outwardly repulsive about him, but she knew he was a bad person. He was tall, dark, and his face had probably once been quite handsome, but somewhere along the way his nose had been broken and there was a scar that parted one eyebrow. In spite of the slight disfigurements, he was still good-looking—but Chris didn’t want to walk inside the same room with him.
“Diana, don’t be shy,” Owen was saying. “This is a friend of mine, Mr. Beynard Dysan. He’s come to stay a while.”
“How…how do you do?” she managed to whisper, holding out her hand to him, although she very much didn’t want him to touch her.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Owen told me of your father’s unfortunate death. I’m sorry.”
She backed away from him. “Yes,” she murmured. “I cut my hand this morning,” she said, showing her bandaged hand, “and I’m feeling a little weak. If you’ll excuse me, I must go upstairs.” She fled before either of the men could protest.
Upstairs, she stood with her back to the door for a few minutes. Until now she’d not been sure there was anything wrong going on in this house. But after meeting Beynard Dysan, she knew he was involved in something evil.
She almost jumped when she heard the men on the stairs outside her room. Listening, she heard them walking up toward Owen’s office. She opened the door a bit.
“I’ll be ready to ride in about half an hour,” she heard Dysan say. “That way we’ll be sure of privacy.”
Chris closed the door. They were going to go somewhere to talk and if she wanted to find out what was going on, now was her only chance, because tomorrow Tynan planned to take her home.
She quickly dressed in her riding habit, then tiptoed down the stairs and left the house through the narrow door in the music room. She didn’t want anyone to see her. In the stables, she saw that the boy was busy saddling two horses and she slipped inside, chose a sleek black mare, saddled it and managed to get out the side door without encountering anyone.
It was easy to hide in the trees until she saw Owen and Dysan come out and mount, and it wasn’t difficult to follow them at a distance. They were traveling slowly, talking, Owen pointing at things now and then.
She followed them for about four miles, across a bridge over a deep stream, down a narrow road, when they turned right onto a path and disappeared. Chris waited several minutes at the crossroad then cautiously went after them. The trees were too dense for her to see very far ahead and her heart began pounding. It would be too easy to ride into them.
With her head bent forward, she listened as intently as she could over the mare’s noisy steps. Suddenly, she stopped because close ahead, she heard a loud laugh. Dismounting quickly, she tied her horse and began to move through the underbrush toward the sound of the laughter.
She’d only gone a few feet when she crouched low. Ahead of her, standing on a ridge, were Owen and Beynard Dysan.
“When do I meet Sam?” Beynard was saying.
“Soon now. I don’t want any trouble near my place.”
Beynard gave Owen a smirk. “So you can save your trouble for your nephew? I never met a more repulsive kid.”
Owen smiled. “Isn’t he? No one will mind when he meets his fate. See that timberland? This time next year it’ll all be mine.”
“How do you plan to do it?”
“That cousin of his will. Eskridge has already embezzled, driven a man to suicide, and he beats that little wife of his. It should be easy to prove he’d murder too.”
“What about the wife?”
Owen and Beynard exchanged looks. “She’s served her purpose. Shall we get on with this? I’d like to get out of here before this storm breaks.”
To Chris’s utter disbelief, the men turned in unison and started toward her. It was almost as if they knew where she was. Of course that couldn’t be but she crouched lower—and the men kept coming.
Then suddenly came the sound of a man whistling and both of them stopped—the men less than a yard from Chris’s hiding place.
“Hello!” came Tynan’s voice and Chris could have cried in relief. “I guess those horses belong to you, Mr. Hamilton.”
“What are you doing here?” Owen snapped.