Page 81 of Charlotte's Reckoning
Once the odious man was out the door, Morgan on guard so he didn’t return, Charlotte rushed upstairs. She pored over their contract and the deed to the saloon. It was all as she remembered it. The documents were signed and dated years before his death and the alleged bet with his supposed brother. Still, she didn’t trust the slimy worm and considered herself lucky that her appointment with the Jacksons’ attorney was early the next morning.
***
The quiet of the attorney’s office made even the smallest sounds seem louder. From the rustling of paper as he turned pages, to the faint scratch of his pen while jotting down notes, and the muffled clip-clop of a passing rider outside. Charlotte closed her eyes and tried to remain calm, but the waiting was excruciating. Worse, she practically jumped out of her chair when the cuckoo bird popped out of the wall clock to signal the top of the hour.
As her racing heart slowed to normal, Charlotte folded her hands in her lap, interlocked her fingers, and forced herself to sit still. But the anxious energy buzzing around her in anticipation of Mr. Bennett’s evaluation made it nearly impossible.
He glanced up, peering over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses. “You didn’t find a will in his papers, by any chance?”
“No, and he never mentioned one. Is a will necessary? Will lacking one be a problem?”
“It certainly makes things easier.”
“As you can see, Mr. Bennett, the documents were drawn up years ago. Fenton and I have always operated the business based on them. We went ten years without a problem.” The rising pitch of her voice betrayed her escalating panic.
The attorney put the papers down, pulled off his glasses, and then laced his fingers with a grim set to his face. “Here’s the real issue. Neither of your documents was witnessed or notarized. Without Mr. Sneed able to confirm that this is indeed his signature, they can be disputed in court.” He rose, hearing a commotion in the outer office. “If you’ll excuse me a moment.”
Before he could fully round his desk, the door burst open, and Quentin Sneed stormed in.
“You can’t go in there! Mr. Bennett is with a client,” his assistant insisted as he followed him in.
“I don’t give a damn if he’s with the president himself. I have a stake in this matter and demand to be heard.”
“What’s the meaning of this interruption?” Mr. Bennett demanded.
Charlotte surged to her feet and put the chair between her and her nemesis. “This is Quentin Sneed, the man claiming to be Fenton’s brother.”
“I’m also the new owner of the Red Eye Saloon. Nothing she says or presents is valid because I have superseding documents.” He slapped them down on Mr. Bennett’s desk. “I think you’ll find them in order.”
“This is highly irregular,” her attorney grumbled, but he replaced his glasses and began reading. A moment later, he looked up, frowning.
“I made sure to dot everyIand cross everyTbecause I knew my brother well,” Quentin crowed. “He was a gambler and a charlatan, and a veritable king of the double cross. He made a small fortune out of cheating people, and I don’t just mean at poker.”
“His claim can’t have merit,” Charlotte whispered.
“If this is legitimate—” the attorney began.
“Of course, it’s legitimate,” the odious little man declared. “It’s duly witnessed as required by law.”
“If this turns out to be true,” the lawyer reiterated, “it appears Fenton Sneed signed over the Red Eye and all its contents to one Quentin Sneed. It’s dated last month and would therefore supersede a previously enacted title.”
“But how can he gamble away what is mine?”
“You’re a woman,” Sneed said dismissively. “Easily manipulated, which is why you have no place in business.”
“You’re wrong,” Charlotte protested. “The Red Eye is successful, in no small part due to me. Which is why Fenton trusted me to manage things when he was away.”
“You mean when he was in New Orleans gambling away the roof over your head?” he chortled, gleeful over his apparent victory. Then his eyes narrowed on her. “Despite your rudeness, there’s a place for you in my employ. But not as a madam. Once word gets out thatthe incomparableMiss Charlotte’s cunt is for sale, we’ll have a line around the block.”
“Now, see here!” Mr. Bennett exclaimed.
At the same time, a searing anger coursed through Charlotte. Fed up with being insulted and scorned, and now possibly cheated, she reacted instinctively. Her hand shot out, and she slapped the loathsome man in the face. The crack of her palm striking his oily skin echoed throughout the room.
It brought her back to her senses. Her eyes widened as a crimson handprint bloomed on his cheek. His hand flew to his face, mirroring hersurprise, a beat of silence hanging heavy in the air before pandemonium erupted.
A piglike squeal—a mix of pain and fury—ripped from Sneed. Mr. Bennett scrambled around his desk, stepping between them. Then the door burst open again, his assistant hurrying in—Charlotte hadn’t even realized he’d left. Close behind him came Seth Walker, with Violet at his heels.
“What’s going on here?” the sheriff asked with ringing authority. “I could hear the commotion outside.”
