“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.