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“I cared about Grandpa,” she said, nodding toward the black band around her upper arm. “And I’m happy to sort through his things, but don’t you try using that as a way to get me out of school. There will be plenty of time for me to sort through things outside of school hours. Come Monday morning, I’ll be back at Hayes Academy. And I’m not going to Wyoming.”
Had Sam been this disagreeable three years ago? He tried to envision it but ended up with the mental picture of a sweet girl crying over her injured cat in the barn. “I happen to love you, and I happen to want my sister with me, under her family’s care.”
“If you loved me, you’d let me stay. I love it here! This place is my life.”
Love it. She once said that about the Teton Valley. “What about Ma and Pa? You haven’t seen them for nigh on three years.” And Ma might not be around in another year.
She ducked her chin and toyed with the fabric of her skirt. “Do they know you’re trying to take me away, trying to quash my dream?”
A fist tightened around his heart. His sister stood before him, her body tall and womanish, her eyes alive with hope and passion, her mind determined to win their argument. He’d had a dream once, too—one he shared with Blake about buying a cattle ranch. No one had told him that he couldn’t. If anything, Ma and Pa had encouraged him and Blake to make their own ways in life. And they had.
And while he’d been out West, grieving Blake and seeing to the cattle ranch that now belonged solely to him, Sam had grown up, become a woman.
But woman or not, she still had a dying ma in the Teton Valley, and he had a promise to keep. Except didn’t he also have a duty to reunite his sister and mother before it was too late? “I’m not trying to quash anything, Sam. Ma and Pa miss you. Is it so hard to believe they want to see you again?”
Her back went rigid as a fence post. “They sent me away.”
“Come on now. Once you get back home and see some of your old friends, things won’t seem so bad. Levi Sanders took over his pa’s ranch a year back, and he’s looking for a good wife who knows the ways of a ranch. Not a silly city woman who can’t tell the front end of a horse from the rear. Here.” He dug in his pocket and held out the creased envelope. “Levi sent you this letter.”
She clutched her hands together defiantly, but her actions didn’t hide the moisture shimmering in her eyes.
He blew out a breath. What was he to do with a girl who was hard as iron one minute and all weepy the next? “Take the letter, Sam, and stop being so all-fired stubborn.”
“What about Cynthia and Everett? Are you forcing them to go back, as well?” she whispered furiously.
He froze, a flood of bloody images he couldn’t erase scalding his mind. “I wouldn’t take them back West for all the land in the Teton Valley.”
“They’re—”
“Enough.” He slashed the air with his hand, cutting her off. “We’re discussing you, not the woman responsible for Blake’s death. Now take the letter.” He shoved the envelope across the desk as a knock sounded on the door.
The butler poked his head inside. “Mr. Hayes? Mr. Byron, the lawyer, is here for your meeting.”
“Thank you.” But his gaze didn’t leave Samantha.
She huffed, stood and snatched the letter. “Fine. I’ll read it. And I’ll reply. But I’m not going back to Wyoming. I’m graduating from Hayes Academy, and then I’m attending college. I’m going to become an architect one day. You just see if I don’t.” A tear slipped down her cheek before she flew out of the room.
Luke blew out another breath and rubbed the heel of his palm over his chest, but the action didn’t quell the pain in his heart. He should have never let Pa send her away, should have stood up to his sire the moment Pa had suggested Sam had to leave after Blake died. But he hadn’t, and now he was good and stuck.
He couldn’t drag his sister, crying and screaming, away from a place she loved. And she wasn’t about to come willingly...unless he told her about Ma. But then he’d be breaking his promise, and a man couldn’t just up and ignore a promise like that.
His fingers dug into the polished wood top of the desk. If he did nothing else on this confounded trip, he’d convince Sam to come home on her own.
If only he could figure out how.
* * *
Elizabeth’s head ached, her neck muscles had turned into a mass of knots and her stomach roiled as though it would heave out her lunch—despite the fact she hadn’t eaten any.
She could blame most of her discomfort on Luke Hayes.
She’d grown up with a politician father. She’d seen him, her younger brother, Jackson, and even her mother wheedle donations more times than she could count. Goodness, she had wheedled donations before. She knew the best way to go about it. Smile. Look pretty. And agree with everything the potential donor said.
Not three hours earlier, the man who could save Hayes Academy had stood in front of her. She hadn’t smiled. She’d probably looked a fright with chalk on her skirt and her hair askew. And she’d disagreed with everything he had said.
Goodbye, Hayes Academy.
She sighed. Was she was being too hard on herself? Luke Hayes had interrupted her quiz and then pulled her brightest pupil out of school. Certainly he didn’t expect her to smile and say, “Yes, that’s fine. Ruin your sister’s future. I don’t care in the least.”
She opened her bottom desk drawer and stuffed into her satchel the letters she needed to work on the ledgers. He had no right to rip Samantha out of class then spout off about his sister not being her concern. Of course she was concerned—she knew exactly what the girl was going through. The battle was all too familiar.
What do you mean, you’re going to college?
A pretty girl like you should find a husband.
Just because one man jilted you, doesn’t mean the next will.
A college degree? What’s wrong with the schooling you already have? Why do you need more?
The sharp comments twined through her memory. Why should her desire to teach mathematics matter, when she could get married and have children? People had been asking her that for six years, and now Mr. Hayes had said the same about Samantha.
Maybe if she had explained the possibilities that awaited Samantha after she had a high school diploma and college degree, he’d let his sister continue her education.
Maybe.
But how many people understood her own pursuit of mathematics? Mr. Hayes would likely squelch his sister’s dreams just as so many people had tried to kill hers.
Elizabeth straightened and slipped her satchel over her shoulder. She wasn’t doing herself any favors by stewing over Luke Hayes, and she needed to stop by the kitchen and inventory the recent food delivery before she even went home.
She closed and locked her classroom door, then walked down the hallway toward the large double doors at the opposite end of the building. The tinkle of girlish giggles from outside floated through the main entrance to the school, and the clear autumn sun filtered through the windows beside the doorway.
If only she didn’t have the cook to meet with and ledgers to refigure, she could enjoy that picnic with her students. But some things weren’t meant to be. She pushed through the doors leading into the dining hall, then weaved her way through the maze of tables and chairs toward the kitchen at the back.
Dottie McGivern, the school’s cook, stood at the counter just inside the kitchen.
“There you are. Been wondering whether you were going to show up.” Dottie’s plump hands dove into a bowl of dough and began to knead. “We need more flour, apples and sugar.”
Elizabeth sighed. Of course they did. It only made sense. She already had the ladies’ society, Samantha’s brother and the school’s financial woes to deal with. Why not add trouble with the food order, as well?
“I’m assuming you didn’t get the amounts you ordered?” Again?
Dottie pointed to the half-empty shelves lining the wall of the kitchen. “Now look here, Miss Wells. I’ve been cooking for a long time, and I know how much money it costs to feed a slew of girls. Or at least how much money it should cost. So when I say I need a hundred and fifty dollars each month to pay for food, I mean a hundred and fifty dollars, not the fifty dollars’ worth of foodstuffs that showed up this morning. That look like a hundred and fifty dollars’ worth of food to you?”
“No, it doesn’t.” This could not be happening again, not with the school in such dire financial straits. It seemed every time Dottie had a load of food delivered, something had gotten mixed up and only a portion of the needed food was delivered. “I don’t understand. Jackson says he authorizes the food money to be released every month. You should have plenty of supplies, not be running out.”
Dottie wagged a flour-covered finger at her chest. “Talk to your brother, then. Maybe you got your messages mixed up, but the delivery that arrived today wasn’t no hundred and fifty dollars’ worth of food.”
Yes, she would talk to Jackson. Indeed, she hoped something had become mixed up. Otherwise, the academy was being cheated somehow. And not just with groceries. This was the fourth time such a thing had happened since the school year started. Jackson said enough money for materials and bills had been released, yet the gas company claimed they never received payment, the store they ordered teachers’ supplies from was missing money as well, and Dottie said only a third of her food arrived.
“Miss Wells, there you are. I feared you had gone already.” Miss Bowen’s head poked through the swinging kitchen door, her perfect coiffure and straight suit grossly incongruous against the counters piled with potatoes, messy casserole dishes and frazzled works in the kitchen. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I simply must speak with you. In private, that is.”
Miss Bowen sent Dottie a brief smile and then disappeared back through the door.
Elizabeth squeezed Dottie’s arm. “I’ll be back tomorrow to figure this out.”
The fiery-haired woman nodded. “Thank you.”
Elizabeth headed out of the kitchen and toward the far corner of the dining hall where Mrs. Bowen stood. The lines of her gray dress looked so stiff that the woman couldn’t possibly be comfortable walking. Or standing. Or sitting. Or doing anything at all. But a smile softened the creases of her face.
“I need to speak with you about the school board meeting last evening.”
Of course. Why not discuss the school board meeting? It was just one more thing to add to her list of disastrous events. At this rate, she’d better not bother to go home later. She’d likely find her house burned to ashes or swallowed by an earthquake. “What about it?”
“Well, naturally the board is concerned about the bad publicity Hayes Academy received earlier this week.”
Which the school board undoubtedly blamed on her, since she’d written that editorial. “Do they plan to file a complaint with the Morning Times? To the best of my knowledge, no one, not a school board member, nor you, nor I, nor anyone associated with Hayes Academy, was asked to defend it in an official article. I suppose it will be left to me to write something in response.”
Miss Bowen blanched. “No. I’m afraid that won’t be necessary. In fact, I do believe several of the board members requested you not write anything more for the paper.”
“Does someone else plan to write an editorial, then?” Surely the school board didn’t intend to let Mr. Higsley’s article go unanswered. “Or perhaps the board could invite the reporter to the school? The man might well retract some of his comments, were he to see firsthand how beneficial—”
“The school board is considering closing Hayes Academy. Immediately.” The words fell from Miss Bowen’s mouth in a jumbled rush.
Elizabeth’s heart stuttered, then stopped. She opened her mouth, hoping something intelligible would come out, but all she could do was stare at Miss Bowen’s pale, pinched face. She should have known. She’d suspected the school board would lean in this direction, of course. But so quickly? Before she even had a chance to refigure the ledgers or write another article or find more donors?
“I see. Did...did my father...” She pressed her eyes shut, hated herself for even asking, but she had to know. “...support closing the school?”
Miss Bowen’s eyes grew heavy, and Elizabeth’s gaze fell to her feet. Of course Father would pull his support. He discontinued support of anything politically disadvantageous. He wouldn’t care that he had championed the school during his past two reelection campaigns.
“Elizabeth? Are you all right?”
“Yes. Fine.” Except her throat felt like sawdust had been poured down it, and her stomach twisted and lurched as though it would lose its contents again.
“The decision hasn’t been finalized yet. There’s hope in that, I suppose, though I must confess the majority of the members seemed to have already made up their minds. Still, the school board wants a detailed report from your brother on Hayes Academy’s financial status by the end of next week. They’re scheduling another meeting two weeks from now.”
“That’s when they’ll decide whether to close the school?”
“Yes.”
“So there’s hope.”
“A glimmer.” But no hope shone on Miss Bowen’s face.
And rightly so. One week, maybe two. That wasn’t much time.
“Elizabeth.” Miss Bowen touched her shoulder. “Where do we stand financially? I know several letters from our sponsors have come this week. I’m assuming your brother has received more?”
“I’m heading home to calculate numbers.”
“Surely you must have some idea.”
She glanced toward one of the small dining room windows. The sun still burned clear and bright outside, but the little shaft of light barely seemed to penetrate the dark, empty room. “It’s not good.”
“Well.” Miss Bowen’s lips curved into a painfully brilliant smile. “Perhaps things will improve shortly. I asked Mr. Hayes about the possibility of another donation.”
Her head snapped up. “When he was here earlier?”
“Why of course. When else would I have seen him?”
Lovely timing. He’d probably pasted a grin on his face and agreed to everything asked of him, especially since she’d just finished lecturing him about bringing a gun into school and pulling his sister out. “What did he say?”
“He didn’t say no, but he didn’t rush to make a commitment, either. I’m sure he just needs more time.”
The headmistress’s voice held a fragile kind of promise. Elizabeth rubbed her temples. She didn’t want to shatter it, not when it would shatter soon enough on its own. “That’s something at least. He probably doesn’t realize how much responsibility for this school he’s inheriting. I’m assuming his lawyer will inform him sometime over the weekend.”
“I’m sure Mr. Hayes will want to continue in his grandfather’s stead, or he wouldn’t have come East at all. But I want you to speak with him about a donation.”
“Me? Speak with him? Certainly you’re in a better position to solicit funds.”
“Don’t be foolish, Elizabeth. You have such a convincing way about you, when you’re passionate about an issue. I doubt the man will be able to tell you no.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. Luke Hayes certainly hadn’t found saying the word difficult earlier that afternoon.
And he likely wouldn’t have trouble saying it again.
Chapter Three
“Sell it all,” Luke said from behind his grandfather’s desk. “The companies, the estate, everything but the stocks.”
The lawyer, Mr. Byron, cleared his throat. “You can’t.”
“Why?” Luke waved his hand over the will spread across the desk. “Is there some sort of stipulation that prevents me from selling?”
“It’s not done.” Mr. Byron folded his stubby arms across his chest and peered through his spectacles. “Your grandfather intended for you to continue running the companies he worked so hard to establish, not to sell them off.”
Luke stared at the papers he’d spent the past two hours poring over, the lines of neat handwriting growing blurry beneath his gaze. He’d inherited nearly everything his grandfather had owned. Fifteen accounting offices with an insurance company attached to each branch, and a smattering of investments both in Albany businesses and on the New York Stock Exchange. “This shouldn’t even be mine. My father should inherit it.”
“Your grandfather was very clear. He wanted the estate and businesses to fall to his only living grandson.” The lawyer spoke without inflection, as though the words didn’t threaten to shatter the life Luke had built out West.
The unreachable little spot between his shoulder blades started to itch. Had Grandpa thought Luke would feel obliged to stay, once he saw the vast holdings? According to Pa, Jonah Hayes had manipulated everything and everyone around him. When the old codger tried forcing Pa into a marriage all those years back, Pa left, and Grandpa disowned him. Was Grandpa trying to get back at Pa by pulling his pa’s only living son back East?
Luke stretched his arm behind his back and tried to scratch the nagging itch. He couldn’t spend his days in an office, staring at lists and numbers, instead of ranching. Falling asleep to the distant howl of wolves and breathing the sharp air of the first mountain blizzard. Working with his hands to brand the cattle, round them up and drive them east. Seeing the prairie change from summer to autumn to winter to spring, all while the bold, jagged Tetons to his west watched like slumbering giants.
No. He wouldn’t leave the West. Not for all the wealth of his grandfather’s estate. “If Grandpa left everything to me, then he shouldn’t care what I do with it, and I want it sold.”
“You don’t realize the scope of what you ask.” The lawyer shoved his spectacles back up on his nose, only to have them slide halfway down again. “Think of all the problems selling such large holdings will cause. With the economy as it is, you’ll get maybe half the true value of your grandfather’s companies.”
Luke clenched his jaw. Beating his head against a brick wall would be easier than talking to the lawyer. “I don’t care about the money. My ranch does well enough. But if Grandpa was bound and determined to leave me his estate, the least I can do is take the money from it back to Pa, who should have gotten all this in the first place.”
