He shut off the water. Got out and sluiced the moisture from his face and raked his hair out of his eyes with his fingers. His grim face stared back at him from the mirror on the medicine chest and he yanked it open, pulling out the bottle of aspirin. He swallowed one dry, then went out to pick up the business card she’d left.
The message was brief. Written in the same neatly slanting hand that had graced her note for Otis that first day.
A dollar sign. Followed by a whole lot of commas and zeros and the words “Top offer.”
It was a helluva lot of money. But not as much as he knew the land was really worth.
The aspirin was stuck somewhere midway down. He rubbed the pain it was causing in his chest and set the card, dollar signs and zeros facing down, on the counter.
When Samson suddenly stopped trying to shake his coat dry and growled softly, Jed’s nerves tightened all over again.
The dog took off like a shot when Jed opened the door. He followed more slowly after dashing himself with a towel and yanking on his jeans and boots.
The cause of the growl was apparent as soon as Jed rounded the cabin.
Samson was on his haunches, teeth bared.
Jed knew it wasn’t the horse that had the dog’s hair standing up, but the rider.
He finished pulling on the shirt he’d grabbed and eyed the man. Below the tan Stetson was a shock of iron-gray hair. Below that, a steady look from blue eyes so pale they seemed almost white.
If Squire Clay was wary about the hackles Samson was displaying, it didn’t show.
“You ride all the way up here from the Double-C, Mr. Clay?” It would have taken him half the day or more.
His visitor’s lined face creased even more. “Not the first time I’ve done it. But no. Left the trailer about ten miles down the hill.” Squire’s uncompromising gaze switched from Jed’s face to look up at the cabin, then out over the view. “Every ten years or so, I’d come up here, trying to deal with Lambert. He ever tell you that?”
Jed smiled slightly. “A time or two.”
The elderly man grunted. “Easier coming up on horseback than having to walk that last stretch of road after the slide. Might need to bury me, too, if I tried.” He nudged his hat back a few inches and rested his crossed wrists on the saddle horn. “Any news about that will?”
Jed shook his head. “Not yet.”
Squire sucked air between his teeth. His saddle creaked softly again.
“Nice-looking horse.”
The old man nodded and ran a hand over the palomino’s neck. “Clays breed some mighty fine horses. My son tells me you turned him down on the job.”
Jed nodded once. He wasn’t inclined to explain himself.
Squire crossed his wrists again. “Figure my chances of getting those acres I want are dwindling by the day. But the offer still stands. Fair market value.”
“You should be telling that to Snead.”
“I ’spect I’ll be talking with that twit before long.”
Jed considered twit a mild term where Snead was concerned. “Thought you wouldn’t try to negotiate against your granddaughter.”
“She’s gone.”
Knowing it would happen didn’t stop his stomach from turning hollow.
“Since I’m up here, might as well tell you that I have a fair interest in the herd, too.” He squinted off into the distance. “Figure Lambert’s rolling around in his grave now, laughin’ hard about me admitting it. He and I never did see much eye to eye.”
Jed couldn’t deny that. “Otis is probably laughing about a hell of a lot these days.”
Squire harrumphed. “He did like spiking people’s guns.”
“Pretty certain he’s not the only one.”
Squire gave a sharp crack of laughter and a herd of wrens shot from the grass into the air. “True enough.” He looked out beyond the cliffs. “Always was a damn pretty view up here. Been in this land as long as Otis was. I started with nothing. He started with a mountain.”
“Now you have one of the most profitable cattle companies in the western United States. And the Rad probably hasn’t changed in the last fifty years.”
“I know you started with nothing, too.”
Jed listened to the buzz of insects. Felt the breeze pull at his shirt. For five years, he’d lived there with nobody but Otis knowing his past. Now, in the span of two days, it’d turned into a trending topic. He kept his voice expressionless. “Thought you and Otis weren’t on that good of terms.”
“Otis didn’t say squat. But you’ve been keeping company with my granddaughter. And I make it a point to know the company my family’s keeping.”
She’s not keeping company here when she’s gone back to her life in Denver. He kept the thought to himself. “Is that the real reason you came up here? To tell me I’m not good enough for her?”
“Are you?”
“No.”
Squire settled his hat more squarely on his head. “I wasn’t good enough for my wife, either.”
“Which one?”
A corner of his stern lips lifted. “Both.” Then he thumbed his hat back an inch again and leaned forward. His gaze was penetrating. “But a man changes, son. When he finds a treasure worth it.”
“Man still has to have something to offer. And I’ve got as much nothing now as I ever had.” He regretted the admission, even though he figured it was an obvious one. “I’ll convey your interest to Martin Pastore,” he said abruptly. “He’s the one in charge of the estate.”
“Lawyers.” Squire’s lip curled almost as much as it had when he’d mentioned Snead. “Heard of Pastore. Usually sticks down in Cheyenne.” He waved an all-encompassing arm. “Figures he’d get himself involved in a thing like this.” His gaze sharpened on Jed again as he gathered up his reins. “You think about what I said.”
“I’m not the one to talk to about a deal, Mr. Clay.”
“Wasn’t talking about the mountain,” Squire said evenly. “Mind if I give Birdie here a water before I head back? I know where the trough is.”
In answer, Jed shoved his hands down his front pockets and turned sideways.
Squire clucked softly and the horse swished her white-blond tail and angled beyond the cabin.
Jed was still standing there when they reappeared a short while later. Squire nodded his head once as he passed and Jed watched him ride away.
When the soft clip-clop of hooves on rough road finally faded away, he went to the cabin.
The boxes that April had helped him pack were still sitting there. Finding the will had put a halt on everything, including sending it all off to the auction house. He walked through to the bathroom and grabbed his clothes out of the dryer.
If he’d had a choice, he wouldn’t go in the cabin at all. But he had to get his clothes clean somehow.
Bunching everything under one arm, he went out through the kitchen.
The bottle of scotch was still sitting on the table, where it had been since the day she’d helped him pack.
In his bunkhouse, he dumped the clothes on a chair, then went out and filled a bucket with water and trudged it on foot all the way up to Otis’s ridge.
He dumped the water over the riotous flowers then turned his gaze out.
“Gonna miss this place, Otis.” The knowledge sat under his breastbone, a deeper ache than he ever would have expected. It provided a good strong base for the slice he felt whenever he thought about April. “I’m doing what I can for you. And for this place. But day’s going to be here before long when I won’t have that choice anymore. Figure you knew that, though.”
He dropped his boot on the bucket to keep it from blowing away. “Don’t know where things’ll take me.” Streaming red hair and a fluttering yellow dress swam in his mind and he closed it off, but not well enough to stop the throb of missing her. “
Just know it won’t be like before, when you pulled me up. God knows why I’m still on this earth, but I’ll stick around until he’s done with me. Know that’s not something you ever concerned yourself with too much.” He studied the flat headstone. “If I was here, I was here. If I decided to step off the cliff, you’d have kept right on being the same as ever.”
His shirt flapped. The flowers bobbed and swayed.
Some things stayed constant.
The mountain. The wind.
The fact that Tanya’s last words to him still applied.
What is the point of you?
He leaned over to grab the bucket handle. Briefly pressed his hand against the marker. “Rest easy, old man.”
Then he straightened and went back down to the bunkhouse that was still his home.
At least for the next few weeks.
Chapter Fifteen
“Quite a crowd,” Gage said two weeks later when he and April arrived at the Weaver courthouse.
They’d flown up from Denver by charter that morning, making quick work of the trip, even including flying over Rambling Mountain. It was handy that April’s uncle Tristan happened to have a private airstrip outside of town. Gage’s ex-wife, Jane, had arranged an SUV to be there waiting for their use.
“Mmm.” Even though she’d spent the past three days—ever since they’d gotten word from Archer about the court schedule—mentally girding herself, she couldn’t stop searching the people gathered there for Jed.
But she didn’t see him.
Pastore and his associate were there. Snead, of course. Wearing one of his uptown suits, though it looked to her like it was hanging on his skinnier-than-ever frame, and the entourage who’d accompanied him last time was missing. She saw the mayor, who did have an entourage. A suited woman she recognized from the state Senate. Even Vivian Templeton’s chatty assistant, who’d taken Gage’s check that day.
“Sure you want to do this?” Gage asked. “You’re really willing to invest your trust fund?”
They’d had the conversation more than once. Ever since she’d proposed the idea of adding her trust fund to his investment and becoming a silent, minority partner. “If the will’s not accepted, together we’ll be able to outbid Winemeier for certain.” They knew it for a fact, since Archer had managed to find out just how deep the mining company’s pockets actually were.
“If the will is accepted?”
“Then it’s moot, because Jed’ll inherit.”
“Nobody knows that, yet,” Gage cautioned.
“Then you’ll get the mountain from whoever does.” She spotted Squire about the same time he spotted her and waved. “There’s my grandfather, so remember all that is just between you and me.” Despite what Gloria had said that day at the Lazy-B, she was still staying there. Still hadn’t returned to the Double-C. June had arrived and Squire wasn’t hauling, nor was Gloria returning under her own steam. “I’ll introduce you.”
“Look a lot like your mama,” Squire greeted as he leaned down to give her a hug. “She always used to wear suits like this when she was working for your dad.”
April smiled and gestured. “This is my boss, Gage Stanton. Gage, my grandfather, Squire Clay.”
Squire shifted his walking stick to his other hand in order to shake Gage’s hand. “Lot of curious folks turning out today,” he observed. “There’s not a room in this courthouse big enough to fit ’em all.”
Gage was just as tall as Squire. Black-haired against iron-gray. “You here as a council member or because of your own interest?”
Squire gave a chuckle. “Both. They’re gonna have a stampede on their hands if they don’t open the courtroom door soon.”
“Archer’s here,” April said, watching the attorney work his way toward them. If she’d expected Jed to be with him for some reason, she would have been disappointed again.
“Place is a zoo,” the attorney said when he reached them. He gave a nod toward Squire. “Good to see you.”
Fortunately, despite Squire’s antipathy toward Vivian, he didn’t extend it to her grandchildren and he returned the greeting in a friendly enough way.
“Any luck finding out how she intends to rule?”
Archer shook his head at Gage’s question. “Not even Pastore knows.” His gaze strayed toward the opposing team. “At least that’s what Nell told me yesterday. If it’s true, at least we’re all in the same boat.”
The courtroom doors swung open as he spoke, and the crowd surged inside. She wasn’t sure if it was simply determination or some well-placed blocks by Squire’s walking stick, but the four of them managed to get a place in the front row of the gallery. Unfortunately, Louis Snead also slid in next to her, taking up the last of the space.
“Thought about raising that top offer?”
She had to work hard not to shudder. The man was positively oily. “We can discuss that if there turns out to actually be a reason to discuss it with you.”
“I’m confident.”
The chewed-off nails on his fingers implied otherwise. Either that or he had a terrifically bad habit.
She couldn’t help herself. She looked over her shoulder. Scanned the faces in the gallery seats. The ones crowded behind them. The senator was directly behind Squire and kept leaning forward over his shoulder to talk to him.
April faced forward again to see the judge had entered the courtroom and was now sitting behind the bench.
“Standing room only,” Squire murmured across Gage. “Figured I’d see Jed here.”
She didn’t reply. So had she.
The hearing was called to order and the judge looked over the top of her glasses. “This will be brief, and since we have a few more laypeople here than usual—” her dry statement earned a smattering of laughter “—I’ll speak plainly. The holographic will dated November 2 of last year written by Otis Lambert has been duly authenticated—” she raised her voice over the swell of comments, including the noisy cursing coming from Snead “—to the court’s satisfaction and probate is adjusted accordingly, effective immediately.”
She nodded to her court clerk, who rose and carried a document over to Pastore, where he sat at the table in front of the bar. “Mr. Pastore, as administrator of the estate, you’re receiving a copy, but to save everyone’s time, I’ll summarize the pertinent portions if y’all will shut your traps!”
It was more effective than a gavel. April’s neck prickled in the abrupt silence and she looked back again.
Jed was standing against the closed courtroom doors and he looked so good to her that it hurt.
His eyes met hers.
Her breath felt hard.
“The area known as Rambling Mountain,” the judge continued, “excluding the boundaries known as Rambling Rad Ranch, is to be titled to the state of Wyoming for the purpose of establishing a state park.” The statement earned another rash of commentary that she only quelled after several bangs of her gavel, and April was vaguely aware of the senator once more leaning in toward Squire.
When the courtroom was silent again, Judge Fernandez continued. “If the state is unwilling or unable to establish said park, the property passes to the Town of Weaver, again with the stipulation that the area is to be protected yet remain of public use. I’ll forgo the legal land description, but in general he’s referring to the mountain from somewhere just above the lake all the way down to the highway.”
April saw Jed’s eyes close.
She blinked hard. If Otis had made a point of separating out the ranch, he’d had to have planned for Jed to have it.
The judge’s gavel pounded a few more times and she finally turned back around.
Snead had buried his face in his hands and she had the strong suspicion he was trying not to sob too loudly.
The judge continued. “The real property defined as the Rambling Rad Ranch—essentiall
y from the lake to the summit—including all buildings and improvements and physical property—are to be sold forthwith.” The words earned another whack of the gavel to silence the brooding eruption.
April, however, could barely fathom the words. She looked at Gage, who had a speculative look on his face.
“Preferably to the highest damn bidder.” Judge Fernandez looked over her glasses again. “That’s a quote, by the way. All proceeds from the sale go to Mr. John Edward Dalloway.” She lifted her gavel yet again, then grimaced, as if realizing it was pointless. Her courtroom was in chaos. She leaned over her microphone again. “There are a few additional comments for Mr. Dalloway that I see no need to mention in this setting, and that’s it.”
“But I’m his relative!” Snead gathered himself enough to protest.
“That’s it,” the judge repeated loudly. “Mr. Pastore, I assume the auction of personal property that was stayed is still ready to proceed?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Good. Then I expect you to wrap things up quickly on that end. I’m sure you’ll be busy entertaining offers on the real property soon enough. Adjourned.” She stood up as the courtroom went wild and walked out.
When April looked again, Jed was gone. And she didn’t even know if he’d stayed there long enough to hear it all or not.
Along with everyone else, she stood. Squire was thick in conversation with the senator and April looked up at her boss. She kept her voice as low as she could. “Get the ranch.”
“April—”
“I know you think its value is minor compared to the rest of the mountain,” she cut him off. “I don’t care if it takes every penny I have. Just keep it under the company name like we’d planned before. Only this time it won’t cost you a dime.”
Gage looked pained. “You’re really serious about that. A guest ranch?”
“Run by Jed, if he’s willing. You offer it to him.”
“Why would he keep working the Rad if he gets the money from the sale?”
“Just offer. Are we partners or not?”
A Promise To Keep (Return To The Double C Book 16) Page 18
