The Dauntless Heiress: Consequences of Love

By E. Roy Hector

As soon as he bumps into Susan Parker in a college hallway, Lance Taylor realizes the moment is an auspicious turning point in his life. While he searches for something impressive to say, Susan smiles, gives him her phone number, and agrees to a date the following day. Unfortunately neither Susan nor Lance have any idea what is about to transpire for both of them.

It is love at first sight and not long before Lance and Susan become engaged. But everything changes the night Susan is involved in a car accident caused by a driver on a criminal mission that leaves her parents dead, Susan in the hospital, and an unidentified two-year-old unscathed in the backseat of the other car. As a complex mystery unfolds, Lance learns Susans father owned a large uncut diamond desperately wanted by a mastermind criminal. While Lance and Susan launch an investigation to determine the toddlers identity, her parents lawyer is kidnapped and his life threatened unless certain demands are met. As the terror increases, a small clue is left behind that may finally help solve the mystery and identify a killer once and for all.

In this action-packed thriller, an unplanned meeting propels two college students into the midst of pivotal consequences caused by a crazed murderer determined to stop at nothing to obtain what he wants.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 28, 2015
• ISBN: 9781491774410

E. Roy Hector

E. Roy Hector is a veteran of World War II and the Korean War, and retired from the United States Army as a Command Sergeant Major. He subsequently spent more than twenty years in executive management. Hector lives on a farm between the towns of Stratford and Sulphur, Oklahoma. This is his eighth novel.

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Copyright © 2015 E. Roy Hector.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-7336-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-7531-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-7441-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015912750

iUniverse rev. date: 08/05/2015

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

A Novel

E. Roy Hector

Other titles by E. Roy Hector

Escape from Hell’s Corner

Gangs of bloodthirsty and ruthless outlaws terrorized the American Southwest before and after Mexico ceded the land now called Texas. One such pack of thirty or forty cutthroats had what they thought was a perfectly impregnable hideout—until a trio of US Marshals was given the mission of bringing them to justice. These marshals were no barroom toughs; they’d been brought up as churchgoing citizens, and all three had been schooled in the arts of self-defense and survival. The outlaw leader made a fatal mistake when he ordered his killers to kidnap a rancher’s beautiful virgin daughter.

Return to Hell’s Corner

In the exciting, fast-paced western adventure sequel to Escape from Hell’s Corner, crazed killer Amos Clarke (a.k.a. Amos Watson) will stop at nothing to avenge the death of his outlaw father. Set in the picturesque Texas mountains, Return to Hell’s Corner combines danger, romance, bravery, and good old-fashioned western justice to provide an exhilarating ride through the lawless wasteland of the Old West.

Vengeance Was Hers

When outlaw Chet Brode rapes, tortures, and nearly murders Susan Sue Boatwright, the daughter of a rancher in southwest Texas, the peace-loving and law-abiding citizens of Deadman Falls suddenly realize the stark reality of the harsh land they call home. But none realizes this cruel reality more than Sue. She survives the degrading abuse and mental anguish inflicted by the rapist and his attempt to murder her. She vows to avenge the crime against her body. At times, she thinks the devil himself is driving her down a path of self-destruction. Yet she stays on the trail, determined to one day track down her tormentor and bring him to justice.

Brazos River Marauders

Colt Horn was born on a pioneer trail to Scottish parents seeking new land they could call their own. But at the age of fifteen, he finds his parents murdered and is set adrift on the dangerous mission of vengeance. He grows to manhood, surviving battles, hardships, and struggles, and eventually becoming the owner of a large ranch. When he meets Liz Hanes, he wants to marry her and settle down. Nevertheless, none of his dreams can be realized until his parents’ murderers are brought to justice.

Colt learns that the man who killed his parents, and who is now the leader of the Brazos River Marauders, wants him dead or alive and has posted a large bounty on his head. The attacks on neighboring ranches and on his life provoke him to leave his ranch and work full time in an effort to eliminate the lawlessness in his valley. He will, at last, bring the leader of the Brazos River Marauders to justice—or die trying. Plenty of action brings the Old West to life in this tale filled with cowboys, love, revenge, and ultimate redemption.

Range Fury

Known for his tenacity in pursuing lawbreakers, US Marshal Frank Marlin follows a dangerous mission to quell a brewing range war on the western frontier. He has been told that Cottonwood Valley, a rich, fertile land in the state of Texas, is the target of the trouble. The valley’s large-ranch owners blame each other for the cattle rustling, ambush killings, and other acts of lawlessness. They threaten to wipe each other out; fury on the range seems unavoidable. During his mission, Marlin learns that a wily outlaw boss, who strikes ranches and towns from his hideouts in the badlands, perpetrates the trouble in Cottonwood Valley. When the outlaw boss hears Marlin is on his way, he offers his henchmen a large cash bounty to anyone who kills the feared marshal. Marlin must always be on the lookout for those who want him dead. Encountering life-threatening situations and suffering serious wounds, Marlin never loses sight of his intense desire to stop the killing and cattle rustling.

Desert Gold

As the American frontier crept westward, the early seekers of virgin fertile land and new livelihoods found taming the Wild West a daunting challenge. Ruthless marauders plagued early settlers who came west to start new ranches, farms, and towns. This novel chronicles the lawlessness that reigned in the Southwest frontier and the search for stolen government gold. Amid the turmoil in the Southwest, a dying outlaw double-crosses his gang leader and absconds with stolen government gold coins—eighty thousand dollars’ worth. He writes a letter to his brother, US Marshal Tom Leach, with clues to where to find the gold. He beseeches his brother to forgive him and return the gold to the government. He wants redemption for the crimes he committed on the Owl Hoot Trails. Tom Leach postpones looking for the gold until he quells the raging anarchy and establishes law and order.

In one of his many death-defying missions, Tom chases killers after they murder a settler and kidnap his wife, leaving behind their daughter hidden in the woods. Tom rescues the woman and kills two of the outlaws, and then he hears, You bastard, keep those hands in the air and turn around. I want to see your damn face before I kill you; I’d just as soon shoot you in the back as kill you later. Tom’s first concern is for the woman. The US Marshals’ training manuals did not cover this type of situation. He braces himself for the bullet in his gut. He has to act, but how?

Unmarked Trail (Books I and II)

For the next six years, James Hector and French Smith found many ventures they undertake in partnership. James comes to appreciate the sometimes reckless manner in which French approaches financial problems; he always seems to make the right decision. However, they continue to go deeper in debt. During the years following the marriage of French and Eliza, the family’s money problems become more acute. Court appearances are the order of the day. It seemed that James and French cannot recover the money owed them because of perfectly sound legal contracts; therefore, their indebtedness soars.

Then added to all the financial woes, French and Eliza suffer the loss of two children early in their marriage. Their first child, Mary Catherine Smith, is born on August 2, 1832, and dies on May 16, 1837, before her fifth birthday, while James Hector Smith, their third child, is born May 16, 1836, and dies on June 14, 1837 within a month after his first birthday. Shortly after these events, French and Eliza decide that they can no longer live in their present surroundings. They have heard much talk of the new Republic of Texas and the battles fought by brave men securing that new and unsettled land. They secretly begin planning to leave Virginia.

Acknowledgments

The author proudly credits his sons,

Ronald R. Hector, a graduate of Kansas State University,

entrepreneur, and rancher; and

Douglas M. Hector, a graduate of the University of Texas, businessman, and investor,

for their literary contributions and editing of

The Dauntless Heiress.

I

A sudden, ninety-degree turn changed my life forever. That unexpected event would bring with it love, intrigue, kidnapping, extortion, murder, and other calamities, some unimaginable. The long, treacherous trail that followed that sudden change in my life would have many twists and turns. I guess my early life conditioned me for that great change. As an only child, my imagination had no bounds; the world was mine, including its dangers and pitfalls. I never shared with anyone my wish to discover the unknown or my admiration for the soaring eagles, roaring lions, and the swiftly running antelope. Along with my unshakeable worship of freedom, I had a good dose of intermittent claustrophobia, which only occurred in certain buildings.

My adoring parents surprisingly never pampered me. My parents believed in independence and reasoning rather than corporal punishment. Our household was free of conflict, and outwardly, I had a normal, fun, and loving childhood. But in the schoolyards, it was a much different story, as fistfights were the diet of the day. I had more than my share of black eyes, and each episode produced a lecture at home. Almost every time I came home with a bloody nose or another tell-tale sign of fighting, my parents spoke at length about my future. They stressed the importance of college and asked that I consider a law degree. At the time, I thought that was a good idea, but during my last year of high school in 1936, I began to wonder if I really wanted to spend an additional three years studying the law after college. I knew my parents would be disappointed if I did not continue my education, but blue skies and distant horizons became my beacon. Instead of college, I sought freedom and wide-open spaces.

Over the next two years, I traveled to most of the states and a few foreign countries. When my money ran low, I stopped and worked at odd jobs. I was never attracted to money; I just wanted enough for my needs. My travel in Europe was difficult. The scent of war permeated the air, and strangers were not welcome in many parts of the continent. I quickly learned never to shy away from a fight. If the hell-raisers sensed weakness, they were harder to discourage. I was extremely lucky to escape with only minor damage. The initiators of the fights were less fortunate. The few fights I could not avoid helped toughen my determination to stand my ground. I was not an easy mark. Nevertheless, in spite of the trouble, I enjoyed traveling and meeting people of other countries. I especially enjoyed the short romances without commitment. I left Europe earlier than planned, as my money was about exhausted.

Upon returning home, I had the good luck to meet an attorney named Karl Lambert, who also owned and operated a private detective firm. We talked a lot about my nomadic life since high school, and he offered me a job, provided I’d agree to stay at least a year. I jumped at the offer. He was a good teacher, and I learned that being a private detective was not only dangerous but hard work. I’d been on the job about a month when I learned that Karl and his wife, Etta, believed in free love. They allowed that their marriage vows did not grant ownership, and both husband and wife should be free to live their lives to the fullest. They abhorred jealousy. Etta often teased me, with Karl’s encouragement, but because of my self-respect and belief in the vows of marriage, I graciously refused.

We became good friends, and Karl treated me like a son, as he sincerely wanted to help me. He kept after me to go to college and then study law. Finally, I agreed, and my parents rejoiced. I made it through my undergraduate studies without fanfare.

Soon after starting my first year of law school, I developed the feeling of being caged when I entered that historic one-hundred-fifty-year-old, rock-walled edifice. I had heard the tale about several immigrants who had been slaughtered in the basement. It was whispered that their spirits were seeking freedom and thus haunted the building. I dismissed that as a possible cause. I thought it might be something in the aged furnishings and damp walls. I accepted that with reservations. Somehow it helped me to tolerate the time I had to spend in the old building.

I managed to cope with the problem but could not shake the persistent fear that something was amiss. I had other problems and impediments, but none precluded me from achieving the honor of being included in the top 5 percent. Yet that honor did little to lessen my dislike and resentment of having to rush from one session to the next. Always hurried! Especially boring was the repetitive study of old trial case histories, which were uninteresting and even less informative; it never relieved my feeling of captivity. I desperately wanted to escape and get on with my life. Finally, the last day of study arrived.

The professor said she wanted us to end our studies on a high note. The lesson that day would be about one of her most difficult trial cases. It was an important graded session that would weigh heavily on our final grades. The professor almost always scheduled simulated criminal trial scenarios for murder or other serious crimes. She emphasized that the characters and storylines were fictional and did not intentionally include information from any known trial. Those sessions usually lasted about four hours, but on that particular day, the trial started later than usual and was slowed down by the bickering between opposing counsels, of which I was one. About an hour before the session should have ended, the professor announced that we had to stay until the jury brought in a verdict. I didn’t mind waiting, as I had a role in the defense and had made the closing argument without much input from other members of the defense team. The outcome of all the arguments rested on my ability to prove that my client was not guilty. I was very interested in the verdict.

The prosecution had put on an impressive and seemingly irrefutable yet heavily circumstantial case against the defendant and insisted that no one else could have committed the murder. The state’s case lacked eyewitnesses and relied heavily on my client’s past record of child abuse, rape, and assault with a deadly weapon. He had served part of a seven-year sentence in a maximum-security prison and had been on parole for less than six months when he allegedly killed his wife, who had not divorced him but had lived with another man for most of the seven years that he was incarcerated.

The scenario evidence file showed that the defendant swore he did not kill his wife. I used that in addition to inconsistencies in the prosecution’s arguments to pursue a vigorous defense, which demonstrated that his wife’s lover had had the opportunity and motive to commit the murder. The prosecution did not demonstrate any direct evidence that would prove his guilt, nor could they refute my hypothesis. I was anxious to learn how well I had actually presented the case and to see if the jury was convinced that my client should not be found guilty as the prosecution demanded.

The jury was made up of six women and six men, and they were locked in the deliberation room. After more than an hour, I began to think they were not taking their duty seriously enough and instead were simply enjoying themselves and playing games. Then I began to think that the longer the jury was out, the more the chances of acquittal diminished and that if that were the case, then I had failed my client, whom I fervently believed to be innocent. Although if the evidence that was stacked against him were to be solely considered, he probably would have been found guilty and thus sent back to prison as a murderer to serve additional time. I knew he was a slick character and would never become a worthy citizen, but the wife’s lover was a deadbeat who had sponged and lived off women most of his life. The police reports contained numerous accusations of his rage, and the wife had asked him to leave the house when her husband returned. He complained to a neighbor that he could not stand the thought of her husband being in the house with the woman he loved.

My fellow students were fidgety and anxious to hear the results of the jury’s deliberations. They finally returned to the jury box with grim expressions on their faces. Accordingly, my spirits fell, as I thought they had found against my client. Then the verdict was read: not guilty. I was so relieved that I almost shouted my joy, but the professor was talking and congratulating all the participants in the trial for their skillful efforts. I was surprised when she said the evidence was rigged in such a manner that the verdict could have gone either way. The case was over, and I was free to leave. I was excited to be finished with the graded sessions. All that remained to get my degree were a few ceremonies. I’d already decided to have my degree mailed to my home and to not take part in the cap-and-mortar ceremony. I was practically free.

When the last class was dismissed, my youthful dreams flooded through my mind. Free at last! Now I’d hear the lion’s mating call, see the eagles soar high in the sky, and watch the antelopes run. When I reached the hallway, I had no intention of waiting for the elevator, as it was slow and always crowded. I would skip down the stairs and end up in the parking lot much more quickly.

So I blindly and with great haste ran down the corridor, dodging the other students, and at full speed made a ninety-degree turn. It happened suddenly; I abruptly collided with a young lady. Thus, I met Susan Parker for the first time. It was my lucky day. Susan was undaunted, fully composed, and acted as if our collision were just an ordinary event. In reflection, I believe my conscious life started that day. I know for sure it was an auspicious turning point. I’ll always believe that the forces that propelled me down the hallway at breakneck speed were threefold: I suddenly felt free of anxiety, the last session was dismissed late, and my friend Glory was waiting for me in the parking lot.

I believe Susan was also in a great hurry to get out of the building, as our combined speed jarred both of us. I grasped her arm and prevented a nasty fall. I released her arm as she straightened and regained her balance. She flashed a smile, showing perfect white teeth. She did not seem angry with the abrupt and careless impact. That first glimpse of her smile and beautiful face caused my heart to flutter and my knees to go weak. She possessed the most inviting lips I had ever seen—in a word, she was beautiful. Hers was the beauty described by poets. She had curves in all the right places. I immediately fell in love with Susan Parker. She stood there smiling, eyes shining and lips parted just enough to be deliciously inviting. I was not just in love; I had found a beautiful goddess to worship. At that moment, I had no way of knowing that in just turning a corner leading to the stairs, the course