The Mistaken Heiress

by Shelba Shelton Nivens

  She felt rather foolish thinking of all the time she had spent with the man without learning his name. But she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of hearing her ask after she’d told him she didn’t care to know. Her lawyer could probably find out for her, when—and if—he found a deed to the land, transferred from her mother and uncles to the man.

  Kate’s eyes shifted toward a pew near the front of the sanctuary where Aunt Ellendor and Uncle Rob sat. Uncle Sidney and his family sat behind them. On the far end of his pew sat their son Tom and three-year-old Tommy. A row of beautiful, poised women sat between them—Uncle Sid’s wife, Nancy; their daughter Renae, the high school beauty queen; daughter Julia, whose husband was on a business trip; and Tom’s wife, Susan. They were all singing, even little Tommy and Julia’s four-year-old, Amy.

  Kate held her songbook unopened on her lap as she noted the sheen on the row of smooth blond heads under the bright overhead lights. She reached up and smoothed her own wild mane. One more thing to show she was not like the rest of the family—in appearance, as well as interests.

  She wouldn’t mind being a little more like cousin Charlotte. Of course, she didn’t care to go off to Asia as a missionary, but she would like a closer relationship with the Lord.

  She just wasn’t sure she could trust Him anymore.

  Glancing toward the windows on the far side of the sanctuary, she saw the white gravestones glistening in the morning sun. She thought of the preacher’s text on her first day back here. I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you a future and a hope.

  The man in the woods had quoted the same Scripture to her.

  And I want to believe it, Lord. But how can I when things have turned out like this?

  A picture of blue eyes crinkled at the corners and a dark head and beard popped into her mind.

  She gritted her teeth. No. I won’t give in so easily to that insufferable man.

  She slid the hymnal into the rack and picked up her shoulder bag from the pew. She would trust the lawyer to find a way for her to get the land back.

  In the meantime, she would enjoy the woods every chance she got. Maybe she could get to the campsite now and do a little sketching before he came in from church and lunch.

  She slipped quietly from the pew and padded softly to the outer sanctuary doors.

  * * *

  Back at the house, she changed quickly into jeans and a gray-and-white long-sleeved flannel shirt. She tied her gray sweatshirt around her neck. Opening the refrigerator, she grabbed a bottle of water and the piece of chicken Aunt El had left for her. Then she stuck a sketch pad under her arm, pencils in a pocket and set out for the clearing in the woods, chewing on the cold chicken.

  At the entrance to the campsite, she stopped short. That man sat at the table with a large sheet of paper spread out before him. Something akin to joy leaped inside her, but she quickly squelched it. Now she couldn’t be alone with her drawing.

  He looked up, saw her and smiled. “Come on in.” He folded the paper, slipped it into a folder and placed the folder inside a large book lying on the table. He nodded toward the pad under her arm. “I see you brought something to read.”

  “It’s a sketch pad.”

  “I didn’t know you were an artist.”

  “I’m not. I just like to draw.” She glanced toward the gnarled old tree with the outstretched limb. “I used to sit on that limb and sketch the trees and forest creatures. Before you turned it into a clothesline.”

  He grinned and held out a hand toward the tree, palm up. “Be my guest. I can remove the laundry.” He made a move to stand.

  “Never mind. I’ll sit there later. After you’ve gone. When I’m not a guest.”

  He rolled his tongue around in his jaw and smoothed his beard, which had been neatly trimmed since yesterday. Long laugh lines ran down each cheek.

  She turned her eyes from him and glanced toward the stream.

  His gaze followed hers. “Did you want to rake now? The rakes are against the tree where we left them yesterday.”

  “No. I thought you might be at church and I’d have the place to myself.”

  He smiled. “Sorry to disappoint you. I went to early service.”

  “Oh. At the big church on the other side of town.”

  “A church near Birmingham where a friend of mine pastors.”

  The sudden chatter of a squirrel drew their attention to a nearby limb where the small creature sat scolding them. Kate glanced at the sketch pad in her hand.

  “Go ahead and sit here at the table with your pad. I’ll be quiet and let you work.”

  He probably hoped she’d be quiet and let him work. But he was the interloper here, not her.

  “I’ll sit over there.” She nodded toward the scattered firewood.

  * * *

  Kate pulled a couple of pencils from a back pocket of her jeans, sat on a stick of firewood and folded her sweatshirt to cushion her back against a tree.

  Maybe he should find another place to hang his laundry. Of course, she shouldn’t be around much longer to see it. Surely she wouldn’t quit school in her senior year to come back here and fight for the land.

  When she opened the sketch pad and looked around for something to draw, he smiled at her. With a toss of her bright head, she turned her face away.

  But that was between her and her mama, he thought, certain she didn’t want advice from him. He opened his notebook and picked up his pen. He had his own problems to work on, the main one being how he was going to get done all he needed to do here and at home, too. Especially if a smart-mouthed redhead continued to hang around.

  He read a few pages, made a few notes in his notebook and glanced at her again. She was scratching away in the pad, lost in her sketching, seemingly unaware of his presence. He wished he could forget her as easily—the red hair flaming about her face, the fire in those gold-green eyes accusing him of— Of what? He’d paid good money for this place. She had no right to storm in here and accuse him of anything. Whatever the problem, it wasn’t his.

  But he couldn’t forget her, and the other problems he sensed lying just below the surface of her anger and hostility. He was curious to know more about her. Learn what made her tick.

  “Have you had art classes?”

  She kept sketching. “A few. As electives. I’m studying— I was studying horticulture. And business. So I could start my own business.”

  She cast him an accusing look again.

  He winced. “You can still operate your own business. If you finish your studies.”

  She made a few more scratches on the paper. “I practically run the garden shop where I work. I can operate my own business even if I don’t go back to school. That is, I could if I had a place for one.”

  It was time to change the subject. “May I see what you’re drawing?”

  She turned the sketch pad around and waited without comment for him to look at it. He stood and moved closer for a better view.

  She had drawn a picture, a good likeness, of the snarled old tree—without his laundry strung on its branches. Her ability surprised him. “You’re very good. It’s a great likeness of the tree.”

  She tore the sheet out of the pad and handed it to him. “Here. Keep it to remind you of what it’s supposed to look like.”

  He threw back his head and laughed.

  She stood and brushed at the seat of her jeans. “I have to go.”

  “You just got here.”

  “And I’m just leaving.”

  She picked up her sweatshirt, stuck the pencils in a back pocket and left Steve scratching his beard.

  * * *

  Next morning, Kate dressed more carefully than usual in a white tailored shirt and brown slacks. She p
ulled her mop of hair back into a ponytail and secured it with a strong brown band. She wanted to run into town before donning jeans and heading for the woods to see what that man was doing.

  She wanted to hurry and get him away from here. She’d left the campsite yesterday because of the way his nearness was beginning to affect her. The twinkle in his blue eyes and deep laugh lines down his cheeks when he grinned at her. It made her stomach queasy.

  She didn’t truly understand the feelings he stirred inside her, feelings that seemed inappropriate toward an adversary. But she’d had a stern talk with herself on the way back to the house and decided she would no longer allow him to affect her this way.

  It was ridiculous, anyway, to let a man whose name she didn’t even know run her out of her woods. Hopefully, this trip into town would supply her with a little ammunition against him. At least put a name to his face.

  Outside the big oaken doors with the brass nameplate, she smoothed her ponytail and tucked her shirt more securely into the waistband of her slacks.

  With her hand on the door handle, she took a deep breath and paused. She pictured her woods, her stream.

  Lifting her head higher, she pushed open the door and looked around the sedate office. Jane, the pregnant administrative assistant, was nowhere in sight.

  Then she saw the attorney bent over an open file drawer in the corner.

  He had discarded his coat and tie. His brown hair, so perfectly groomed on her first visit, looked like he’d been running his hands through it.

  He stood and looked at her. “Miss Sanderson! Do you know anything about filing systems?”

  “Ye-yes, sir. I’ve been an office manager. And I’ve taken business courses.”

  A look of relief crossed the man’s face. He let out an audible sigh of relief. “Do you think you might possibly help me locate a file?”

  “I can try.”

  While Kate looked for the missing file, he talked on the telephone at the administrative assistant’s desk. When she handed him the folder, he flipped through the papers, found what he needed and returned to the phone.

  She turned her back to him and studied a painting on the wall.

  “Miss Sanderson, I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

  She faced him.

  “That was an important prospective client, and my assistant is home sick. I’m so accustomed to Jane’s efficient assistance, I don’t know how to find much around here without her.”

  He looked around the office, wearing a helpless expression. “Would you happen to know about word processing, too? And keeping records on the computer?”

  “Yes. But...”

  “If you know anything at all about computers and can spare the time this morning I would be very grateful if you could help me get a deposition ready....” He looked at the gold watch on his wrist. “I don’t have time to look for anything on the computer. I have to be in court in an hour.”

  Kate backed off a step. Despite having a lawyer for a sister, she knew absolutely nothing about court documents.

  “It’s in the computer someplace,” he said, looking confused again. “I have a hard copy Jane printed out and I edited. All you need to do is find it in the computer files, make the changes and print out a new copy.” He glanced at his watch and heaved a sigh. “I’m running late again.”

  Kate looked at the computer on the desk, then back at the frustrated attorney.

  I know the plans I have for you, plans to give you hope and a future.

  Maybe you do have a plan here, God. I help him, he helps me.

  “Miss Sanderson?”

  Kate smiled. “No problem. I can handle it.”

  Half an hour later she carried the newly printed papers into his office. He sat at his desk with a pen in his hand.

  He was again the sedate, impeccable attorney.

  Kate stood with cupped hands before his desk, waiting while he read.

  He looked up and nodded solemnly. “A good job. I’m sorry I didn’t call to tell you about having to postpone your appointment.”

  He glanced at the stack of papers on the desk. “Miss Sanderson, I’m desperate and I know it sounds presumptuous, but since you’re here anyway, could you stay awhile and answer the phones? I’m expecting an important call and I’d hate for a machine to take it or transfer it to my cell while I’m in court.”

  He was already standing, placing the papers Kate had printed into his briefcase, adjusting his tie. He picked up the papers from the desk. “Also, would you look up these files in the computer, make the corrections I’ve noted and reprint them?”

  Kate stiffened. “Mr. Boyer, I’m hardly...”

  “Yes, of course, Miss Sanderson. What was I thinking, asking you to spend the morning here?”

  But the wheels were spinning in Kate’s head. What would she lose by helping him? She may as well stay, and then hope when he returned he’d have some news for her.

  “Mr. Boyer, I can help out. I’ll be ready to talk when you get back.”

  He flashed her a relieved smile. “I’ll come back around noon and check on things.”

  Kate reached for the papers. “No problem.”

  * * *

  Shortly before Mr. Boyer returned from court, Jane called.

  She seemed surprised but pleased to hear a female voice answer the telephone. She was having a problem with her pregnancy, she confided. She had been in bed all weekend and the doctor had told her to stay there a few more days.

  “Will you be able to help out at the office while I’m away?” she asked anxiously. “I won’t feel so bad about telling Mr. Boyer I have to be out if I know he has help.”

  A job, helping out a friend. She had met Jane only briefly, but she sounded friendly. This would give her a good excuse to stay here awhile longer, instead of returning to school.

  She spoke into the phone again. “I think I can arrange that—if Mr. Boyer agrees.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be pleased. And thank you. Call if you need me.”

  “Thanks.” Kate smiled as she hung up the phone. She’d been wondering how she would get the money to pay legal fees.

  * * *

  The attorney proofed and okayed Kate’s work when he rushed in at noon. He agreed, with a look of relief, for Kate to work while Jane was indisposed.

  He turned toward his office with the stack of telephone messages Kate gave him.

  “About Grandpa’s land...”

  “Let’s talk about it in the morning.”

  Kate watched him disappear behind the paneled office door. Okay, Mr. Boyer. If you say so. Just don’t forget you’re supposed to do something for me, too.

  She wondered if he’d have anything to tell her in the morning. It would make things easier if the intruder decided to run a closer check into his claim on the place. Maybe he’d find her mother had no right to sell it to him. Then he could get his money back and she could have her land.

  * * *

  When she stepped into the clearing late that afternoon, there was no sign of activity. The intruder was nowhere in sight. His blue mug sat on the picnic table and the dented, fire-blackened coffeepot rested on a flat stone inside the circle of rocks containing remnants of a burned-out campfire. But there were no books or clothing strewn about and the small tent was zipped up tight.

  Her shoulders slumped. But she quickly straightened. I’m glad he’s gone. I just wish he had taken all his junk with him. He evidently plans to come back and...

  “What’s that?” She squinted in the evening light.

  Wooden stakes had been driven into the ground on a hill at the edge of the clearing. They appeared to form a square.

  She stormed up the hill. He was staking out a building on her land! Even marking doorways and windows.

 
“I can’t believe this. I just can’t believe—”

  She stopped speaking and stood with mouth agape as she remembered the large sheet of paper spread out on the table in front of the man when she’d walked into his camp on Sunday. When he’d seen Kate, he had quickly folded the paper and placed it inside a large folder.

  She walked quickly back down the hill.

  Unzipping the tent opening, she felt a slight twinge of guilt. But, after all, he was the intruder. If her lawyer wasn’t going to do anything, she would have to.

  She crawled through the tent opening, turned the flap back to let in light and sat down on the canvas floor looking around. Bedroll. Cooler. Box with food. Another with cooking supplies. Aha. That one must contain his books.

  She crawled over to the plastic container and took off the lid. Books. She began pulling them out, searching for the one he’d placed the folder in. It wasn’t there.

  She glanced over the books scattered on the tent floor. But here’s something else that should be mighty useful.

  A book had fallen open to the fly leaf. And there, scrawled in bold letters, was a name.

  Steve Adams.

  She opened another book. Stephen Q. Adams.

  Stephen. Steve. So that was his name. She nodded her head in satisfaction. She now had a name to give her lawyer.

  She crawled from the tent, stood and stared at the wooden pegs sticking out of the ground on the hillside. Anger boiled inside her. “We’ll just take care of that right now!”

  She shed her sweatshirt and glanced around the camp area. She saw what she wanted leaning against a tree. Back up the hill she went, carrying Mr. Stephen Q. Adams’s ax across her shoulder.

  Chapter 6

  Kate was waiting in the office parking lot when Mr. Boyer stepped from his black Lexus the next morning.

  “Good morning, Miss Sanderson. We need to find you a key.” He walked briskly to the back door.

  Kate followed him in. “Mr. Boyer, I have the name of the man who says he bought Grandpa’s land. If you...”

  “Write it down and lay it on my desk.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “I have to get to court.” He disappeared inside his office.