Seeds of Trust

by Cynthia Reese

  “Murphy’s been beating me over the head with an old debt of Gramps’s…I know Gramps paid it, though. He would never have let the county have a chance at his land. I just can’t…”

  Brandon raised one eyebrow. “Prove it?” He shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you to do about it if you can’t prove it’s bogus.”

  “First, I’ve got to talk to that sorry scum of the earth Melton. And then…let’s just say I’m not going to take this lying down.”

  Brandon regarded him with a wry look. “He deserves to be pumped full of birdshot, but I’m afraid that in my official capacity I can’t let you do that. So don’t make my job any harder, okay?”

  “Don’t worry, Brandon. I won’t take my shotgun to Murphy—it’s too merciful for what that jerk deserves. But I can tell you, I’ve never felt more like putting a man six feet under.” The sick sensation in Ryan’s stomach had turned itself into resolution.

  The screen door pushed open behind them. Becca asked, “Ryan? What’s wrong?”

  He hesitated. “Where’s Mee-Maw?”

  “She’s lying down. Said she needed some rest.”

  Ryan ran his fingers through his hair. Guilt and worry twined in an uneasy knot within him.

  “Murphy’s put the wheels in motion to foreclose on the farm. Do not tell Mee-Maw. She’d have a heart attack. Let me handle this.”

  “Ryan…” Becca had that let’s-try-it-my-way look on her face. “I thought Mee-Maw knew about that tax bill. Maybe you should tell her. Maybe she ought to know what the stakes are here. It might make her tell us where J.T. is.”

  “No!” Ryan exploded. “I will not have her worried! It’s my job to look after her now that Gramps is gone. Gramps always told me he took care of things. He didn’t let her stew over things he could fix.”

  Becca rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on! You don’t seriously buy into that? That woman’s tough as a lightered knot, and you know it. You don’t stay married to a farmer for as many years as she did without knowing the worries of a farm.”

  “I think she’s right, Ryan,” Brandon said. “Mee-Maw deserves to know the farm’s at risk—”

  “She’s my grandmother, and I know what Gramps told me. She’s…she’s gone down a lot since Gramps died. I don’t want her worried unnecessarily. Maybe I can fix this and she’ll never have to know.” Ryan wasn’t sure he knew how to even start to undo the damage that Murphy had created, but Becca and Brandon hadn’t been here day in, day out with Mee-Maw. They hadn’t seen how frail Mee-Maw had been just after Gramps’s funeral. She’d only in the past few months begun to seem like her old self.

  Impatient with Becca and Brandon and impatient with himself, Ryan didn’t take the time now to explain all that. They’d just have to trust him.

  “I’m going to Murphy’s. On the way, I’ll call Melton at the tax office, see what he has to say. You’re the one, Becca, who kept telling me that if you just had a social-security number you could find J.T. Well, you’ve got it. You look for J.T., and I’ll see what I can get out of Murphy. And don’t tell Mee-Maw. Let me be the one to tell her.”

  “But you will tell her?” Becca pleaded.

  “I don’t even know if this is official yet. It could be—let’s hope it is—just some elaborate barrel Murphy’s constructed to put me over. Once I know what the situation is, yeah, sure, I’ll have to tell Mee-Maw. But I’m not going in there half-cocked with a bunch of theories and speculations.”

  With that, he left Becca and Brandon and headed for his truck.

  * * *

  HE FOUND Murphy leaned against an impractical white-rail fence running along the edge of the Murphy farm. Throwing open the truck door, Ryan stalked over to him.

  “Just tell me what you mean, pulling a stunt like this?”

  Murphy gave him a look of mild interest, took in the sheet of paper Ryan was shaking at him, then turned his attention back to the fields of cotton in front of him.

  “News travels fast. To be expected, I guess. What did you think I’d do? Stand by and let you cost me a million bucks?”

  “This bill is paid, Murphy, and you know it.”

  Murphy shrugged. “Prove it. Take Melton the cancelled check and show him it’s paid in full.”

  The metallic taste of frustration and fear welled up in the back of Ryan’s mouth. “You know I can’t. Gramps paid part of that debt in cash.”

  “Then maybe you’re up to working something out, huh?”

  “What are you talking about,‘work something out?’”

  Murphy shifted, putting one foot on the lower rail and leaving a dark stain from his boot on the pristine white wood. “Simple. Ag-Sure wants a fall guy. Leave J.T. wherever he is. Tell that Reynolds girl that Mac was the one who came up with the scheme.” He turned his attention back to Ryan. “That’s all there is to it. Ag-Sure won’t pay you guys…but they’ll give the rest of us a partial settlement most likely, especially if you tell ’em Mac was the one who planted the vine on our land. Cheaper than taking the lot of us to court.”

  Ryan barely resisted the urge to slug Murphy in the jaw. “And how will that solve all our problems?”

  “Your granddaddy’s dead. Ag-Sure can’t press charges against a man already in the ground. You get to keep the farm, your grandmother has a place to call home.”

  “So that tax bill…”

  “Computer glitch. You know, that brother-in-law of mine ain’t the brightest bulb in the pack.” Murphy winked. His face grew more serious. “First thing, though, is to call off the hunt for J.T. He’s not going to help at all, just muddy the waters.”

  “Sounds like he’s alive and kicking out there somewhere, and full of news to spill about you.”

  “News that won’t help you save your farm from a sheriff’s sale. Like I said, simple. But if you need me to make it plainer for you, how about this? How about I go to Ag-Sure, tell ’em that you and your granddaddy cooked this whole thing up, and you’ve been covering it up by planting vines in everybody else’s fields? I got pictures of your granddaddy and J.T., and there’s that check your grandma wrote. It don’t look good, Ryan, not for you.”

  Murphy’s cell phone buzzed then. “’Scuse me.” He reached in his pocket. He spoke into the phone with a quiet voice, glanced up at Ryan and said, “Gotta take this.” He wandered off a few yards out of Ryan’s earshot.

  The interruption was just as well. Ryan couldn’t speak. Disgust and fear and worry all combined to paralyze him where he stood. Did Murphy really think he’d trade Gramps’s memory and reputation for Mee-Maw’s homeplace?

  Then sick resignation pooled in the place of the disgust.

  Did Ryan really have much of a choice?

  * * *

  BECCA STOOD outside, the heat from the Holiday Inn’s asphalt parking lot shimmering up in scorching waves. On the phone, Ryan had sounded…hard. That’s the only way she knew how to describe it. His voice had seemed as unyielding as granite when he’d told her he needed to talk with her immediately—not on the phone, but face to face.

  So she’d told him that she and her dad were in Dublin, and she’d come outside to wait for Ryan. In case her dad didn’t need to hear whatever Ryan had to say.

  Ryan’s old truck rolled up a few minutes later. He parked, got out and slammed the door. One look told her his news wasn’t good.

  “Ryan—” she started to say as he drew closer.

  “I don’t know how they did it, but the notice is official. They’ve put this thing on the fast track. That auction is moving forward.”

  Becca closed her eyes. “I am so sorry. Murphy—we’ll get him. Just as soon as we find J.T., we’ll put Murphy in so much hot water, he’ll—”

  “You haven’t found J.T. yet?”

  She shook
her head. “No. Dad’s still looking. He’s got some leads, though—”

  “Tell me. Honestly. Can you guys run him down by this weekend?”

  “This weekend? Ryan, I don’t know. Today’s Wednesday, and it’s practically gone already—” His expression silenced her for a moment. “Surely even if the tax commissioner is moving ahead with the foreclosure, it will take a while to do the sale. We have time, Ryan.”

  “No, we don’t. According to Melton, I’ve been served with all the necessary paperwork. That legal ad is the last step, Becca. He’s saying I’ve been given adequate notice. Sheriff’s sale is on Friday.”

  “Friday?”

  “Last day of the month. That’s why Melton rushed to get this notice in, so that it could be lumped in with the rest of the month’s sales. Sheriff’s sales are expensive for the county, especially if you have only one or two properties to get rid of. Sometimes there will be a span of months where you don’t have any sales.”

  “He can’t—”

  “Yes, he can. I keep telling you, Becca, and you just won’t hear me. Things are done differently around here. Somebody with pull wants your property? Well, forget due process. They just phony up an unpaid tax bill and ram it through the barest of notices.”

  “So go to court, file an injunction—do something, Ryan.”

  “That takes time. Time I don’t have.” Ryan shook his head. “I could make all this go away. All I have to do is say Gramps was the one who did all this.”

  “But, Ryan—that doesn’t even make sense. If Mac did it, then how did those vines get in the fields?” She lay a hand on his shoulder, but he shook it off. “Think about it. Ag-Sure won’t believe it for a minute—”

  “They will if you go along with it.”

  Becca stepped back. “No. I can’t. Not even for you, Ryan. You’re upset. You’re not thinking clearly. Calm down, think this through. We’ll figure something out.”

  “I’m calm. All you have to do is buy me some time. Just…go away for a little. You can still look for J.T. But make it look like you’re packing up, going home. Let Murphy think that and he’ll call off the dogs.”

  “Ryan! You don’t know that. You have nothing but a scammer’s word that he’ll tell Melton to cancel that sale. Why should he? Why would he? You know Murphy. You know what he’s like.”

  “I might have the chance to scrape up the money, Becca, to pay that tax bill. If I go up there with eleven grand, with a witness, then Melton won’t have any hold on me—and neither will Murphy.”

  “You’d pay eleven thousand dollars in money you don’t owe to get Murphy off your back?”

  “Yes, I would!” Ryan’s jaw tightened and he clenched and unclenched his fist. “Don’t you get it, Becca? These people are playing for keeps!”

  “So who’s to say they won’t go back and dummy up another bill?”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  “But you need me—and Dad—to make this work. You need us to make we-quit noises.” Sick disappointment ate at Becca. “Ryan, you have to trust us. Get a lawyer today, and start trying to stop that sale. Buy us some time to find J.T. We have contacts in Arkansas—”

  “You won’t do it? You won’t help me?” Ryan gaped at her. “You’re just trying to clear this case, aren’t you? You just want to hand Murphy to Ag-Sure.”

  “This isn’t the Ryan MacIntosh that I know. Not if you’re willing to even bend a tiny fraction of an inch to an extortionist’s demands. You have to stand on principle, Ryan. You have to fight, I know that, but you have to fight the right way. You give in to Murphy now…”

  They stood there, eyeing each other. Becca’s heart pounded as she prayed for what she said to sink into Ryan.

  “You don’t know me then. That farm—and Mee-Maw—that’s my priority. No lawyer’s going to be able to do anything in the short time I’ve got—no lawyer’s going to go against the county on this, anyway. I should know, I’ve already asked. I’m not saying, Becca, that I want Murphy to get off, but can’t you see—”

  “No. No, I can’t. And when you’re calmer, when you’re thinking more rationally, you’ll agree.”

  He swore. “It is about the case. You just want—oh, I don’t know. Principle’s fine, Becca. It’s fine and dandy until you see the land that’s been in the family for over a century sold on the courthouse steps. It would be different if I knew you could find J.T. and if I knew for certain he had some answers. I’m grasping at straws here, Becca, and you don’t act like you understand. If I knew you understood, I’d—”

  “I do. I know. I know you, Ryan.”

  “No, I don’t think you do. What’s land to a city girl?” Now Ryan’s Adam’s apple jerked in his throat and his words were hoarse with emotion. “You can’t know me. Not if you don’t—”

  She took his hands in hers again, looked up in his eyes. “I do. I’ve known you for months. Ryan…I was going to wait to tell you this. Until after the investigation was over. But I’ve got to make you see that I am on your side, that I do know you. I’m Sunny.”

  “Wh-what?”

  “Sunny. Sunny seventy-six.”

  Ryan’s face blanched as her words sank in. He jerked away from her. “You mean…all this time? All these months? You knew I was in this trouble? You were investigating me the whole time?”

  “No! No, I didn’t know then. It wasn’t like you’re saying—”

  “Maybe you do know me.” Ryan shook his head as if to clear it. “But I sure don’t know you.”

  He spun on his heel and walked away. Becca raced after him, trying to stop him, but he wouldn’t hear her. He just slammed the door to his grandfather’s truck and peeled out of the parking lot.

  And he didn’t look back.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  HALFWAY HOME, Ryan’s hands were shaking so badly, he had to pull the truck onto the interstate’s emergency lane.

  He turned the cranky air-conditioning up to full blast, barely making a dent in the August heat. Then, as the cars whizzed by, Ryan sat still.

  Whatever calm he was waiting for didn’t come. His gut wanted to turn itself inside out. His heart tattooed a double-quick rhythm behind his ribs.

  What was worse? Finding out that Murphy had a firm grip on the farm—and Ryan over a barrel? Or that Becca wasn’t who she said she was?

  No. That last one wasn’t strictly accurate. Becca simply hadn’t bothered to fill him on minor details—like she’d known who he was from the get-go.

  Had anything between them been real? Between him and Sunny? Between him and Becca?

  “Well, buddy,” he said aloud. “You get off the hook for thinking you’re a jerk for liking them both.”

  Both of the day’s news would have been bad enough, but to have it all land together?

  Ryan slammed a fist down on the steering wheel. He couldn’t afford the luxury of working out the Becca/Sunny problem right now.

  He had to figure out a way to save Mee-Maw’s home.

  Another surge of fury rattled through him. If Becca had just understood what he’d been trying to say—he hadn’t wanted Murphy to get out from under this. All they needed was a little time to lull Murphy into a false sense of security.

  What harm would have been in that?

  But Becca’s pleading with him came back full force. You have nothing but a scammer’s word that he’ll tell Melton to cancel that sale.

  She was right about that. He was a fool to think that he could salvage anything at this point.

  Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, swallowed hard.

  If he couldn’t count on Becca to help buy more time…then the most logical thing to do next was to talk to Mee-Maw.

  * * *

  RYAN WAS GLAD to see Jack’s truck
parked by the house when he pulled up. He hadn’t been sure, when he’d called Jack on the way, whether his cousin could shut down the insurance office early. Especially when Ryan hadn’t gone into detail about what the crisis was.

  I’ll probably tote a butt-whuppin’ for sure after Jack hears what kind of mess I’ve created. But at least I know he’s got my back.

  Before he got out of the truck, he smoothed out the printout of the sale notice and examined it. Amazing. This was America and still, with a little help from corrupt hands, someone could take your land and nobody would put up a fight.

  One look around made the lump in his throat grow bigger. Mee-Maw’s garden, the garden he’d managed to save from both the dodder vine and the hailstorm, was still rich with produce. Off in the distance, that crazy cow Daisy Bell was galloping like a fool horse across the pasture.

  And a field white with cotton waited for harvest.

  How would he tell her? How would he tell Mee-Maw that he might have lost it all?

  Jack met him on the back porch, his face looking grim.

  “Brandon called me. Said he couldn’t run you down, that you weren’t answering your phone, weren’t returning messages. I know about the sale, Ryan. What is going on?”

  “Same old, same old. It’s Murphy up to his old tricks.”

  “But why? What happened? He’d pretty much promised…we keep our mouths shut, he leaves us alone.”

  Ryan shrugged. “Guess that’s what we get for thinking a scammer will honor his word.”

  “Nuh-uh, cuz.” Jack poked him in the chest. “Word on the street says that Murphy is one angry dude. At you. So what gives?”

  Normally Ryan would have floored anybody who’d so much as lay a finger on him. But he was too distracted to care much—and feeling too guilty.

  “I guess I didn’t put Becca on the road quick enough to suit him. It was J.T. all along, Jack. Murphy as good as told me that today. J.T. must have brought those vines in, and Murphy doesn’t want him found.”

  Some of Jack’s belligerence went out of him at Ryan’s words. “I was hoping that Murphy was just bluffing with that. So that’s what Murphy’s hot about? Becca found J.T.?”