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As the woman moved down the hall toward the back of the house, Cheyenne took a moment to settle her jangled nerves. The last thing she wanted to do was go through with this meeting, but the choice had been taken out of her hands.
Before she could change her mind and run as far away as her old Ford truck could take her, she knocked, then opened the door. “Nick?”
He was sitting at a large oak desk, talking on the phone. “I’m glad to hear that you and Alyssa had a good time on your honeymoon in the Bahamas.” Nodding for Cheyenne to come in and sit in the chair in front of his desk, Nick laughed at something the person on the other end of the line said. “Let me know when you hear more from Hunter about his E.M.T. courses. Talk to you later, Caleb.”
When Nick hung up the phone and turned his attention on her, his easy expression faded. “I take it you spoke with Luther Freemont?”
Unable to relax, she sat on the edge of the leather armchair and pushed the folder across his desk. “Mr. Freemont told me that you were the owner of the Sugar Creek now and that I should discuss the terms of my contract with you.”
His expression unreadable, he stared at her for several tense seconds before he picked up the file and flipped it open.
Cheyenne’s cheeks grew increasingly warmer the longer he scanned the contents of the file. When she’d signed the contract to work for the cattle company, Mr. Freemont had assured her that the terms of their agreement would be handled with complete discretion and only a handful of people would know the real reason she’d signed away ten years of her life.
When Nick finally looked at her, his questioning expression had her wishing the floor would open up and swallow her. “Would you like to explain all this, Cheyenne?”
Humiliated beyond belief, she bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. When she felt in control enough to get the words out, she proudly raised her head to meet his gaze head on.
“I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.” She took a deep breath. “Not only do you own the Sugar Creek, you own my father’s ranch, as well.”
Two
Nick couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d been zapped by a juiced-up cattle prod. How ironic that the eighteen-year-old boy Judge Bertram Holbrook had tried his best to ruin all those years ago had not only returned to reclaim his ranch, he owned the good judge’s ranch as well. If what the man had tried to do to him hadn’t been so low and vindictive, Nick might have laughed out loud. But one look at Cheyenne’s pretty face told him there was more behind the story than met the eye.
“All this contract tells me is that I own the Flying H and you have four more years left on a ten-year work agreement.” Shoving the folder aside, he sat back in the leather desk chair. “Why don’t you fill me in on the details?”
He could tell that was the last thing she wanted to do. But when she raised her eyes to meet his, there was a defiant pride in their aqua depths that he couldn’t help but admire.
“Daddy had a stroke six years ago. He’s been partially paralyzed on his left side and in a wheelchair ever since.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Cheyenne.”
Nick knew how much she loved her father and how hard that had to have been for her. And no matter how much he despised the man, Nick didn’t like to hear of anyone’s suffering.
She glanced down at her hands. “When I dropped out of school to come home to care for him—”
“You had to quit school?” She’d always wanted to become a teacher and he hated that she’d had to give that up.
“I only had a couple of semesters left, but Daddy needed me more than I needed to finish school.” She shrugged, but he could tell it still bothered her. “There wasn’t any money for my last year at the university anyway.”
Nick frowned. Bertram Holbrook had always been one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the county. Or at least, that’s what he’d always led everyone to believe.
“Surely—”
“No.” Obviously embarrassed, she suddenly rose to her feet and walked over to the window between the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. “Do I have to spell it out for you? We’re broke. The only thing keeping us from being homeless is that contract.”
He didn’t know what to say. As far as the judge was concerned, Nick couldn’t have cared less. But Cheyenne didn’t deserve the burden of having to pay for the sins of her unscrupulous father or be forced to give up her dreams.
“What happened?” he asked, when he finally found his voice.
Her shoulders sagged as if the weight of the world rested on them a moment before she finally turned to face him. “Daddy had made some ill-advised investments and when the stock market took a nosedive, he was too incapacitated from the stroke to sell before he lost most of his portfolio.”
“He had a lot of Web site stocks?” Nick guessed, remembering the crash of the Internet stocks several years back.
“What was left wouldn’t even cover our utility bills for a month,” she said, nodding. “Then, when the doctors told us he couldn’t work any longer, things went from bad to worse.”
“What about insurance and a pension? He should have had the same paid benefits that other county and state officials have.”
Something didn’t ring true about the whole situation. Either the judge had been an extremely poor planner or his thirst for money and power had finally backfired on him. Nick suspected it was the latter that had finally brought the man down.
She walked back over and sank into the chair. “After Daddy had the stroke and couldn’t work, there wasn’t enough money to keep up the premiums on the insurance and he’d withdrawn everything in his pension fund to invest in the stocks.”
Nick would have thought the judge had more sense than to deplete every resource he had. But then, greed could do that. And if there was ever a more greedy, power-mad human being than Bertram Holbrook, Nick had never met him.
“You didn’t know any of this?”
“No.” She rubbed her forehead with a trembling hand. “Daddy never discussed finances with me. He always told me that I’d never have to worry about those things.”
Nick would bet every dime he had that finances weren’t the only things the man had kept her in the dark about. “I’m sure it all came as quite a shock when you found out.”
She nodded. “I had no idea what we were going to do. Fortunately Emerald, Inc. contacted me about buying the Flying H right after I came to the conclusion there was no alternative but for us to file for bankruptcy.” Her cheeks colored a deep rose. “Then, when it became clear there wasn’t enough money from the sale of the ranch to pay off Daddy’s medical and rehabilitation bills, Mr. Freemont told me the corporation would pay off the rest of our creditors, allow us to stay in our home and pay me a modest salary if I signed a ten-year contract to be the ranch foreman of the newly formed Sugar Creek Cattle Company. At the end of that time, our debts will be considered paid in full and I’ll be free to renegotiate my contract or move on.”
If Nick had thought things were strange before, they’d just taken a turn toward bizarre. But the more he thought about it, the more it sounded like Emerald had learned of the Holbrook’s money problems and, in the bargain, seized the opportunity to mete out a bit of revenge for the judge’s treatment of him and his mother all those years ago.
Unfortunately it wasn’t Bertram Holbrook who was having to pay the price for Emerald’s retaliatory actions. Cheyenne was the one who’d practically sold herself into servitude to bail the old man out of his financial woes. And it didn’t sit well with Nick one damned bit that his indominable grandmother had obviously been taking advantage of Cheyenne.
“Do you mind if I keep this for a couple of days to look over?” he asked, picking up the contract. If there was a way to get them both out of this mess, he intended to find it. “I need to figure out if you owe me or Emerald, Inc.”
She shrugged one slender shoulder as she rose to her feet. “You might as well, since it appears that I work for you now, instead of Emerald, Inc.”
“Where are you going?”
From the look on her face, she couldn’t wait to end their meeting. “Unless you have something more you want to discuss, I’ve got work to do.”
He did, but first he wanted to talk to Emerald. “I’ll go over this and see what the exact wording is, then we’ll discuss it tomorrow afternoon while we inspect the herds.”
“Can’t you do that on your own?” She sounded close to going into a panic at the thought of spending time with him.
Nick smiled. “I could, but it’s standard practice for the foreman to show the new owner around. Besides, I’m sure I’ll have a few questions about the way you’ve been running the operation.”
Clearly unhappy, she hesitated a moment before she nodded. “Fine.” Walking to the door, she turned back. “I’ll be here tomorrow after lunch. Be ready.”
“I’ll have the horses saddled.”
“The truck would be faster.”
“I’d rather ride.”
She glared at him for several long seconds before she finally nodded. “All right…boss.” Then, opening the door, she walked out into the hall and slammed it shut behind her.
Once he was alone, Nick inhaled deeply. He hadn’t drawn a decent breath since Cheyenne had walked into the room. He wouldn’t have believed it was possible, but she was even prettier today than she’d been yesterday. Her turquoise T-shirt had brought out the blue-green of her eyes and the sun shining through the window behind her when she’d turned to face him had accentuated the golden highlights in her long brown hair.
His temperature soared at the mental image and shaking his head at his own foolishness, he did his best to ignore the tightening in his groin. But then, it had always been that way with Cheyenne. From the first moment he saw her at the homecoming dance his senior year, he hadn’t been able to think of anything but making her his wife and living out the rest of his days trying to prove himself worthy of her.
Thinking back on that summer after his high school graduation, he still couldn’t get over how naive they’d been. He and Cheyenne had gone steady throughout his senior year, even though her father had forbidden her to have anything to do with Nick. Neither of them had understood the judge’s intense dislike of Nick, but they’d managed to sneak around to see each other at school functions and met in town every Saturday afternoon to hug and kiss their way through a double-feature matinee at the movie theater. And despite Bertram Holbrook’s concentrated efforts to keep them from seeing each other, by the end of the summer they’d fallen in love and were desperate to be together.
Nick couldn’t remember which one of them had hatched up the plan to run away and get married. Truth to tell, it really didn’t matter. It was what they’d both wanted and they’d heard that for a couple of hundred bucks the clerk over in the next county would issue a marriage license to anyone, whether they were of legal age or not. So he’d worked at the feed store on weekends and saved every dime he could until he had enough to make Cheyenne his bride.
Then, one hot night in late August, he’d picked her up at the house of one of her friends and they’d driven across the county line to get married. But just before they were pronounced husband and wife, the judge and his cohort, Sheriff Turner, had shown up to stop the ceremony.
Nick rubbed the tension gathering at the back of his neck. Until yesterday afternoon, his last remembrance of Cheyenne had been watching her sob uncontrollably as her father led her away from the little church to his car.
But things had a way of working out for the best. Marrying his high school sweetheart had been the lofty illusion of an eighteen-year-old boy with more hormones than good sense. He was a grown man now and no matter how alluring he found Cheyenne, there was no danger of falling under her spell a second time.
Besides, after discovering that his father was an irresponsible player who had thought nothing of walking out on not one, but three women he’d impregnated, who was to say that Nick hadn’t inherited the same “love ’em and leave ’em” gene? After all, he was the one who’d lost interest in every relationship he’d had since leaving Wyoming.
Picking up the contract, he scanned the contents of the document a little closer. There had to be a clause concerning termination of the agreement—a way to free them from having to work together.
His frown turned to a deep scowl when he found it. In the event that Cheyenne quit or her position as foreman was terminated for any reason, the balance of the money immediately became due and payable to Emerald, Inc. No exceptions.
He should have known Emerald would cover all the bases. She hadn’t gained the reputation of being an invincible force in the boardroom or become one of the richest, most successful businesswomen in America by accident.
As he dialed his grandmother’s private number, he took a deep breath to control his anger. Although he no longer had feelings for Cheyenne, he didn’t like the idea of Emerald taking advantage of her or circumstances that were beyond her control.
Instead of Emerald, Luther Freemont answered. “I’m sorry, Mr. Daniels. Your grandmother is unavailable at the moment. May I take a message?”
Nick could tell the man had him on the speakerphone and knew the old gal was probably sitting right there at the desk listening to every word he said while her assistant ran interference for her. “Maybe you can help me, Luther. I have a few questions about Cheyenne Holbrook’s employment with the Sugar Creek Cattle Company.”
There was a long pause before the man spoke. “What would that be, sir?”
“I’d like some more information on Ms. Holbrook’s salary, the balance on what she owes Emerald, Inc. and if she’s my employee or Emerald’s.”
Another long pause signaled that the man was most likely looking to Emerald for direction. “I’m not at liberty to say, sir. I’m afraid you’ll have to discuss that with Mrs. Larson.”
Irritated with the entire situation, Nick muttered a pithy curse. “Tell Emerald to give me a call as soon as possible.”
“I’ll be sure to do that. Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?”
Nick couldn’t resist teasing Emerald’s stiff and formal personal assistant. “As a matter of fact, there is, Luther.”
“Yes, sir?”
“You sound like a robot. Loosen up and stop being such a tightass.”
“I’ll take that under advisement, sir,” the man said with a hint of laughter in his voice.
Nick grinned when he heard the definitive sound of a woman laughing in the background a moment before the connection ended.
“Daddy, I have to go up to the summer pastures to check the herds this afternoon,” Cheyenne said as she put their lunch plates in the dishwasher. “Will you be all right until I get back?”
Her father nodded as he backed his wheelchair away from the table. “I’ll be fine, princess. Gordon called this morning to tell me he’s going to stop by for a while.” He chuckled. “I’m sure he’s got some hot piece of gossip he’d like to share.”
Cheyenne smiled wanly. She’d never cared for Sheriff Turner, but he and her father had been friends for over twenty years and her father always looked forward to his visits.
She kissed her father’s cheek. “There’s some lemonade in the refrigerator and peanut butter cookies in the cookie jar if you two get hungry.”
Smiling, he patted her arm. “What would I do without you, princess?”
“I’m sure you’d do just fine, but that’s something you won’t ever have to worry about.” Checking her watch, she gave him a quick hug, then grabbed her truck keys from the counter. “You and Sheriff Turner stay out of trouble.”
Her father laughed. “Now what could a county sheriff and a crippled old judge possibly do to get themselves in hot water?”
“Let me think.” Tapping her index finger on her chin, she acted as if she had to give it a lot of consideration. “I’m sure you’ll turn down the extra cigar that Sheriff Turner just happens to bring with him?”
“Of course I’ll turn it down. Just like I always do.” Her father’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “I wouldn’t think to do anything else, princess.”
They both knew he was telling a fib. The sheriff always tried to time his visits to coincide with her working on another part of the ranch in order for her father to smoke a cigar—something his doctors had advised him to cut out. But he had very few pleasures left in life and she decided the occasional cigar he enjoyed once or twice a month while he visited with his best friend wasn’t going to do that much harm.
Smiling, she opened the door to leave. “Just remember, if the sheriff wants to have a cigar there’s no smoking in the house. You’ll both have to go out onto the back porch.”
Her father waved for her to leave. “You just be careful out there in the pastures. You might run across a wolf, or worse.”
Cheyenne’s stomach twisted into a tight knot. She wouldn’t encounter a wolf somewhere along the way, she’d be riding right along beside one.
Nodding, she ducked out the door before he had a chance to see the guilt she knew had to be written all over her face. It had been three days since she’d run across Nick repairing that section of fence and she still hadn’t found the courage to tell her father about him being back in the area or that he owned the very house they lived in.
For one thing, she wasn’t sure how her father would react. He’d already had one stroke. She certainly didn’t want to run the risk of him having another when he learned that she was working for Nick. And for another, she didn’t want or need to listen to him tell her how disreputable Nick was or that she’d do well to steer clear of him. She knew firsthand how unreliable Nick was.
Cheyenne sighed heavily as she climbed into her truck and drove the five miles to the Sugar Creek ranch house. She really didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter. Even if they figured out who held the promissory note—Emerald, Inc. or Nick—heaven only knew she didn’t have the money to repay it in order to get out of the work agreement.
Ten minutes later, when she pulled into the ranch yard and got out of the truck, the first thing she noticed was the bay and sorrel geldings standing saddled and tied to the corral fence. They were waiting for her to take Nick to see the cattle company herds—his herds. But he was nowhere in sight. And that suited her just fine. The less time she had to spend with him the better off she’d be.
Walking over to the horses, she patted the sorrel gelding’s neck. She’d been more humiliated than she’d ever been in her life during their meeting yesterday when she’d had to tell him that she and her father were practically destitute. But that hadn’t stopped her from noticing that the boy she’d once loved with all her heart had grown into a devastatingly handsome man or that whenever he turned his deep blue eyes her way, her chest tightened with an ache she’d thought she’d long ago gotten over.
“You’re late.”
Her stomach did a little flip at the sound of Nick’s deep baritone and, turning around, she found him standing with one shoulder propped against the edge of the barn door, his arms crossed over his wide chest. She swallowed hard and tried not to notice how his chambray shirt emphasized the width of his shoulders or how his worn jeans hugged his muscular thighs and rode low on his narrow hips. As he pushed away from the barn and walked toward her, her pulse sped up and she felt as if she couldn’t breathe.
“I had things to do,” she said, hating the breathless tone of her own voice. “Besides, this shouldn’t take long. Both herds are pastured within a few miles’ ride of each other.”
He nodded as he untied the two horses, then handed her the sorrel’s reins. “I need to be back before supper.”
“We’ll be back well before then,” she said, mounting the gelding.
“Good. I have plans.”
Cheyenne couldn’t believe the twinge of disappointment coursing through her. She couldn’t care less if he had a date. She really couldn’t. As long as he left her alone, he could date and bed the county’s entire female population and it wouldn’t bother her one bit.
“If you’d like to postpone checking the herds, it won’t bother me. I have other things I need to be doing anyway.”
