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“I appreciate that you want to reconcile things between your father and late grandfather, but you must consider some of the other people caught in your decision. What will happen to all the employees at Great Northern Accounting and Insurance if you sell?”
How was he to know? The new buyers would likely keep some of the employees. It wasn’t as though he put thousands of people out of work just by choosing to sell Grandpa’s companies. He wouldn’t be shutting down the businesses, merely putting them in the hands of men actually interested in running them.
“And what about the staff here at the estate? Do you realize how many people’s livelihoods you will be terminating with the single command to sell?”
Luke raked a hand through his hair. He hadn’t thought of the servants, either. Whoever bought the estate would probably have his own slew of servants to replace Grandpa’s. He’d need to have a meeting with the staff next week, explain the situation and let all but the minimum go.
No. That seemed too abrupt. Maybe he would keep them on for an extra month and give them time to find new employment.
But how would they look for other jobs if they were working here? Perhaps he should give them each a month’s salary and then release them.
And where would they sleep and eat for the coming month? The servants all lived on the estate, and kicking them out meant they had no home, even if he sent each of them off with a heap of money. Would his former employees even be able to find other jobs? He didn’t need to live out East to know that many of the country’s wealthy had lost money since the panic had hit. People were cutting back and getting rid of extra staff, not hiring more.
“Have you ever fired a person before, Mr. Hayes?” Byron leaned over the opposite side of the desk, his brown eyes extra large behind his glasses.
Luke bristled. “Of course.” Cowhands who were lazy or dishonest or lousy with cattle. But he’d never before fired a good, honest worker. It seemed a shame for decent people to lose their jobs because of a business decision. His business decision.
This whole affair was too complicated by half. Why had Grandpa left everything to him in the first place? He’d made a big enough mess of his own family. What made Grandpa think he could run an estate, and one of the largest insurance and accounting corporations in the East? He needed to get Sam, take her back home and see Ma through until she passed. Surely Grandpa would have understood that he didn’t have time for servants and accounting companies and whatever else.
“You could look for a manager,” the lawyer supplied. “Someone who would run the companies in your absence and report back to you in Wyoming. Then you could travel here every two or three years to see that things are being managed properly.”
Luke rubbed the back of his neck. The manager idea wasn’t half bad. It made more sense than anything else at the moment.
“You would continue to make a profit off the companies, as well.” The lawyer pounced on Luke’s moment of deliberation like a cougar on an unsuspecting rabbit. “Think of it as an extra source of income. It’s a rather sound business decision to make. Of course, you’ll have to interview potential managers while you’re here. But once you’ve found a man, you’d be free to return to Wyoming.”
“I don’t want to commit to anything like that just yet.”
“Why don’t you ponder the decision over the weekend?”
Yes, he’d better think it through. He didn’t want a lot of strings tying him to the East. And yet... “Then the employees would be able to keep their jobs?”
“All but the ones on the estate.”
“I’ll give you an answer next week.”
“Excellent.” A smile curved at the edges of Mr. Byron’s pudgy lips. “Let’s move on to your sister-in-law’s inheritance then, shall we?”
The world seemed to freeze around him, his blood turning frigid at the mere mention of her. “My grandfather left money to Cynthia?”
“Yes, a tidy sum of—”
“I don’t want to know.” Luke turned away and crossed his arms, but the image came back to him like hot, glowing embers buried beneath layers of ash. Cynthia with her pregnant belly cradled between her body and legs while she kneeled on the ground. Her fiery hair tangling in the mountain breeze, her eyes shining with tears, her voice pleading with him. And lying beside her, his dead, blood-soaked twin.
“Your sister also stands to inherit a nice amount,” the lawyer continued.
Luke walked to the French doors and pushed them open, then sucked in a breath of cool outside air.
“Samantha will receive ten thousand dollars either when she marries or turns twenty-five.”
Luke drew in another deep breath and tried to wrap his mind around the lawyer’s words. Samantha. They were talking about his sister now, weren’t they? Not the woman who’d let his brother die. “Has Sam been told?”
“Yes.”
He stared out into the darkening valley, rife with the music of insect sounds and toads and the faint rustle of the breeze. Returning to Wyoming beautiful and single, Sam would have been the talk of the Teton Valley. But with a ten-thousand-dollar inheritance, she’d attract every bachelor west of the Mississippi.
“In addition to her inheritance, your sister also has a separate fund to pay for the rest of her schooling.”
“What?” The calming air he’d just inhaled deserted his lungs.
“The remainder of Samantha’s year at Hayes Academy is, of course, already paid for. But this fund contains money for further education. College—not just a bachelor’s degree but a master’s program, even a doctorate, if your sister so desires.”
Luke turned back toward the lawyer and stalked to the desk. Grandpa’s will just kept getting better and better. “That’s ridiculous. She needs to go home to her family. Not chase some dream she has little hope of achieving.”
Perhaps if she wanted to be a teacher or a nurse, he could understand her desire to attend college. But architecture? She’d be laughed out of her classes. And even if she managed to graduate, who would hire her?
The lawyer cleared his throat. “Educating women was one of your grandfather’s passions, and something he devoted much time and money toward. He wouldn’t want any less for his granddaughter.”
Educating women. Why wasn’t grade school enough of an education? That was all the education he had, and he managed just fine. In fact, he’d wager Grandpa didn’t have more than a grade school education either, and the man had built a financial empire.
Luke poured what was probably his third cup of coffee and sank down behind the polished mahogany desk, brow furrowed as he stared at the pages of the will.
Why was God doing this to him? He hadn’t asked to inherit this estate. He just wanted to put his family back together and go home where he belonged, but now Grandpa’s will made it possible for Sam to stay with or without his approval. He took a sip of coffee and set the mug on the desk.
You shouldn’t set that on the wood. It could ruin the finish.
He blew out a breath. His sister was right—not that he cottoned to being reminded. Still...he grabbed a page of the will and stuck it under the mug.
His head ached, he was covered in road dust, and his face needed a shave. What he wouldn’t give for a good scrubbing in the stream, but first he needed to talk to Sam again. Or at least try talking to her. Hopefully their next conversation would go a little better than the first two they’d had. “Can we continue this discussion tomorrow? I’ve had about all I can take for tonight.”
The lawyer turned from where he stood shuffling through his own copies of the papers. “We’re about done, as it is. Let’s cover the charities quickly, then you can have the weekend to look over the will. Perhaps you’ll stop by my office in Albany on Monday with any further questions? Or if you wish, I can come here.”
“Albany on Monday’s fine.” He’d walk there barefoot, if doing so would end this fiasco for the night.
“Here’s the list of institutions your grandfather contributed to over the past five years.” Mr. Byron handed him three sheets of paper. As though the twenty-five names on one sheet wouldn’t have supplied his grandfather with enough philanthropic opportunities. “I’d expect the majority of these charities will send representatives to speak with you about donations in your grandfather’s memory.”
He’d figured that much when he’d talked to the headmistress at the academy earlier. He’d probably spend a week doing nothing more than explaining to the representatives that he would be heading West before he decided what to do with the funds.
“This is one you need to be particularly aware of, though.” The lawyer slid yet another piece of paper across the desk. “You may not know it, but your grandfather was the founder of Hayes Academy for Girls and stayed rather involved in that institution. It’s assumed you’ll fill the role he vacated.”
Luke frowned as he glanced at the papers for Hayes Academy—lists of finances and supplies, students and faculty. Easy enough to make sense of and not so very different from the accounts he kept of the ranch. “There’s a projected deficit. Am I in charge of raising money for my sister’s school?”
The lawyer shoved his drooping spectacles onto his nose yet again. Following the pattern, they slid right back down. “Either that or donating it yourself.”
He was never going to get back home. It took every ounce of pride in his body not to bang his head on the desk.
“Hayes Academy for Girls was your grandfather’s crowning social achievement. He remained rather proud of the school and very involved in its running, right up until his heart attack.”
Luke ran his eyes over the lists of expenses on the papers again. Looked like things could be managed a little better, but what was he going to do with the mess? He might be able to tell his lawyer to sell an estate, but he couldn’t exactly tell the lawyer to sell a girls’ school that he didn’t even own, could he? “All I see is projected expenses based on current enrollment. There’s no ledger?”
“The manager of the accounting office in Albany has the official ledgers, but the mathematics teacher, a Miss Elizabeth Wells, keeps her own ledgers and reports to the accountant. You might check with her about the school’s current financial state, particularly in regard to the day-to-day details. She stays more informed about such things than the accountant or the school board.”
Miss Wells. Lovely. He could just imagine how that conversation would go. Howdy, Miss Wells. Now that I’ve pulled my sister out of your school, I want to scrutinize every last figure you’ve recorded in your books. “How much, then?”
Byron’s eyebrows furrowed together. “How much what?”
“How much money did Grandpa’s will bequest to them?” Luke spread the papers into a bigger mess across the top of the desk. “For all the figures on these papers, I can’t find the amount.”
“Your grandfather made no bequests for a single charity. Everything was given to you, with the exception of the sums for Cynthia and your sister. He probably assumed once you saw the extent of his philanthropic endeavors, you would continue donating in his stead.”
Luke stuck a finger in his collar and tugged. Likely another way for good old Grandpa to trap him in this uppity little eastern town. “How much did my grandfather usually donate?”
The lawyer pointed to a number on one of the sheets.
“Two thousand dollars for one school year?” Luke jumped to his feet, the thunderous words reverberating off the office walls. He could understand five hundred dollars, or maybe even a thousand. But two thousand dollars so girls could learn fancy mathematics? “That seems a little extreme.”
The lawyer’s eyes darkened, and he jerked the paper away. “On the contrary. As I already mentioned, your grandfather advocated educating women, and it’s only natural he use his money toward that end. Since its inception, the school has been very successful at seeing its graduates enter colleges across the country.”
Luke leafed through the pages. “But it looks like donations are down...enrollment, too. It isn’t much to say the graduates go to college, when there’s no one to graduate.”
“That is hardly the fault of the school,” Byron insisted. “The current economic state has, of course, caused some students to delay their educations. And of late, there has been a bit of local opposition to the school.”
Byron handed him two newspaper articles: An Editorial on the Necessity of Educating Young Women by Miss Elizabeth Wells, and Excessive Amount of Charity Money Wasted on Hayes Academy for Girls by a certain Mr. Reginald Higsley.
Luke let the papers fall to the desk. “The derogatory article appeared at the beginning of the week. Has the school board printed an answer?”
The lawyer shook his head. “Your grandfather always handled situations such as this personally. But if you’re concerned about the articles, you may find it interesting that your grandfather was a rather large investor in the Morning Times.”
Luke sunk his head in his hands. “I see.”
And he did. He hadn’t even been in Valley Falls a day, and his life had been upended, flipped around and spun sideways a couple times. He was never going to survive here for a month.
Chapter Four
“These numbers don’t look good.” Samantha frowned and glanced up from the ledger she’d had her face buried in for the past fifteen minutes. “Do you think the school will close?”
“I don’t know.” Elizabeth moved the chalk in her hand deftly across her slate, finishing up some ciphering with yet another depressing result.
She and Samantha had spread a blanket beneath a large maple tree overlooking the back fields on the Hayes estate. The afternoon sky boasted a brilliant blue, and the breeze snapped with autumn’s crispness; birds circled the air above, and the nearby brook babbled gaily as it flowed over rock and sticks.
In short, it was a perfect autumn afternoon. But Elizabeth could hardly enjoy it when her time with the ledgers last night had revealed a frighteningly small amount of money left in the bank account. The academy barely had enough funds to pay teacher salaries and outstanding bills, and it was only October. They hadn’t even purchased the coal for the boiler system yet.
Elizabeth set her chalk down. “The school board will make the final decision about the academy closing. But Jackson’s findings will be a big part of it.”
Samantha blushed and ducked her head at the mention of Jackson’s name. “That doesn’t sound very promising.”
“No. Did you spot any mistakes in my mathematics?”
Samantha shook her head and shifted the still-open book to the ground beside her.
Elizabeth sighed. If only there had been a mistake, an extra five hundred dollars tucked into an account somewhere. But Samantha would have caught something so glaring. Goodness, Samantha would have caught a mistake ten times smaller than that. The girl was a pure genius when it came to ciphering.
“I don’t suppose it matters much either way for me.” Samantha gave a careless shrug of her shoulders—hardly a ladylike gesture—and slumped back against the tree trunk. “It’s not as if I’ll be around.”
An image of Luke Hayes, standing in the school hallway with his arms crossed and that frown on his face, flashed across her mind. “Is your brother still determined to take you out of school? If there was such a problem with your attending, why didn’t he or your father protest earlier, when you first started?”
“It’s not my going to the school that’s the problem. It’s staying in Valley Falls now that Grandfather is gone. Luke’s decided I have to return to Wyoming.”
The breath stilled in Elizabeth’s lungs. Pulling Samantha out of school was bad enough, but to take her all the way back to Wyoming? Samantha’s future would be ruined. “Why would he want such a thing?”
Samantha tucked her knees up into her chest and huffed. “Because he’s a tyrant, that’s why.”
“I’m sure there’s more to it than that.” There had to be. No one would be so cruel without a reason, not even the intimidating man she’d argued with yesterday.
“Not really. All he’ll say is that Ma and Pa miss me, there’s no one left to care for me here and I belong back on the ranch.”
Elizabeth reached over and squeezed Samantha’s hand. “Do you think it would help if I talked to him? Maybe if I explained all the opportunities graduating would give you, he’d let you stay.”
“It won’t work, not with my brother. Once he gets an idea into his head, he doesn’t listen to reason.”
Elizabeth let the silence settle between them, punctuated by the chirping of birds, the nattering of squirrels and the constant trickle of water over rocks. There wasn’t much she could say, really. She’d speak with Luke Hayes, all right, do anything she could to keep Samantha here. But Samantha knew the man better than she did, and if Samantha didn’t think anything was going to change Luke Hayes’s mind, the girl was probably right.
“How long since you’ve been home?”
“Three years.”
“That is rather long.” Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek. “Christmas doesn’t afford a long enough break for you to travel home and come back, but maybe if you offered to return to Wyoming for a visit after you graduate, your brother would let you stay until then.”
“Actually, I’ve been thinking of something else...” Samantha drew in a breath and fixed her eyes on the ground. “Do you think it’s wrong to...to hope Jackson proposes? Then I could stay here, marry him and not bother with anything Luke says.”
The meadow grew silent around them as she stared at Samantha’s flushed cheeks. Her brother and Samantha certainly showed signs of being a good match. But Samantha had dreams of being an architect, and she was still so young...
“I—I think marriage is a very serious decision, one that affects the rest of your life. If you marry Jackson, you should do so for the right reasons. Because you love him, want to spend the rest of your life with him, and will be happier with him than you’d be without him. Marrying for any other reasons will just cause trouble.”
It was a lesson she’d learned far too well when she’d been Samantha’s age.
A horse nickered somewhere in the distance, and the ground reverberated with the steady thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump of the beast’s gallop.
“I suppose you’re right.” Samantha looked up from the speck on the ground she’d been staring at. “That sounds like Triton’s gait, but who would be riding out this far? The stable hands don’t usually head this direction.”
A moment later, a rider in a cowboy hat appeared atop a magnificent dark brown steed at the far edge of the field.
Samantha scowled. “I should have guessed. My brother has to spend at least six hours of his day on a horse, or he goes crazy.”
Elizabeth tried not to watch as Luke Hayes approached, but in truth, she could hardly take her eyes from him as he raced across the field. He seemed to move as one with the strong horse, his legs hugging the beast as though it were an extension of his own body. It hardly seemed possible to imagine the man stuffed into Jonah Hayes’s office, going through the endless papers.
“Good afternoon.” Mr. Hayes reined the horse to a stop beside the blanket, towering over them like a king; then his eyes narrowed on his sister. “You didn’t say anything about coming out here, Sam.”
Samantha’s eyes flashed, and she crossed her arms over her knees. “I wasn’t aware I needed to ask permission to go for a walk on the estate.”
