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“You came to rescue me?” The woman focused on him even more intently. She made it sound as if he’d taken leave of his senses. “I’m not paying you for that, either.”
“Look, I don’t want any money from you,” Hunter said impatiently. “Not a dime. Just, whatever you do, don’t sign anything.”
The pink was returning to the woman’s face and with it some red. Her face was alive with indignation. She pressed her hands down on the front fender of her car and studied him as she leaned forward. “Who are you, anyway?”
“The man’s grandson.”
His full name was Colin Hunter Jacobson, but he sure didn’t want to hang that first name around his neck. Not with his grandfather’s reputation. He’d changed to using his middle name when he was eighteen. His grandfather had accepted the change without asking for an explanation.
Hunter started to turn away. It was time he called the sheriff.
But the woman wasn’t through.
“Which grandson?” she asked.
“The oldest one. Hunter.”
He turned back, wondering why she’d want to know that.
His brothers were both following the rodeo circuit, taking more risks than they should as they won all their prize money. Cash, the one next closest in age to him, rode broncos and Kurt, the youngest, took his chances on the back of raging bulls. Hunter worried about them both. He should have done more to convince them to stay home. They had both tired of their grandfather’s behavior and had left the ranch a couple of years ago. They’d said they had wanted to live someplace where they could hold their heads up high and not wonder what the problem was every time the phone rang. Hunter hadn’t blamed them for leaving once he’d heard that. He was the oldest, though; he had an obligation to the man who had raised them. Besides, he loved his grandfather.
The woman nodded then as if she understood something. A small self-satisfied smile grew on the sides of her lips as she stood straight. Not a full smile, just the hint of one forming. “You’re the one who helps him with the ranch work?”
He nodded. It was more than he could do himself, but he couldn’t afford to pay an experienced hired hand. If his brothers came back, they’d be able to make a go of it. They’d all grown up working the land and he suspected from their letters that they were almost ready to return. The shine had worn off the rodeo belt buckles and his grandfather had been well behaved lately. His brothers missed ranching. Of course, this latest scheme might change everything.
“Well,” the woman said, her voice as melodious as a bell, “I can see what the problem is then.”
Hunter’s mind snapped back to the present. “Really?”
Tiny drops of moisture were falling, but it wasn’t enough to count as rain.
She nodded. “Your grandfather thought you might be opposed to him giving my family the old place.”
Hunter frowned. “The old place? You mean the land my grandfather bought when he came down from Alaska?”
That’s what they had always called it—the old place. Where they lived now was the new place. But Scarlett Murphy wouldn’t know that.
Hunter knew for sure something was going on now. First the anniversary date and then this. His grandfather loved that piece of land. That was the house he’d brought him and his brothers to after the accident. He’d never give it up. Most of the eighty acres was currently leased to Mr. Cleary who ran a herd of sheep on it. But Cleary was retiring this fall and Hunter had plans to plow the fields and get them ready to plant into wheat next spring. That was the crop he was counting on to keep the ranch out of debt.
Hunter walked closer until he was almost at the woman’s car. He bent and let the cat go. He knew the animal wouldn’t leave his side. Not now. He took a deep breath to try to reassure the feline. When he looked up, the woman was talking.
“I’m sure that’s the land he meant.” She pressed her lips together slightly, as though she was thinking. Then her eyes flashed. “It’s what he bought after stealing the gold mine from us sixty years ago. He wrote my grandmother last month and said he would deed it all over to our family if we came and signed for it. ‘Clearing his conscience’ is what he called it—his land for us saying he didn’t steal the gold mine. Switching the deeds. So here I am.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hunter said. The windows were dark on the woman’s car, but he thought he saw some movement inside. Maybe it was just a raindrop sliding down the glass. “My grandfather had legal claim to that mine. He didn’t steal anything.”
“Is that what he told you?” Scarlett asked, her smile tight now as she walked around the car and stood facing him. “My grandfather would turn over in his grave if he could hear him saying that. Grandma always knew Colin Jacobson was a no-good, low-down thief. Now it seems he’s a liar, as well.”
“My grandfather is a good man,” Hunter protested. Despite everything, he believed that. “I’m sure your grandmother didn’t mean—”
“She also said he was handsome as sin and twice as charming,” the woman acknowledged with a look that measured Hunter with a calm objectivity. “Said it was a family curse of the Jacobson men.”
“Well, thank her—”
Hunter was beginning to think he might be able to resolve any problem here.
“I don’t see it myself,” Scarlett said abruptly.
Hunter rocked back on his heels.
“Well, I never claimed to be particularly good-looking.” He paused in case she wanted to protest out of politeness. She didn’t. “But you must know my grandfather owned that mine. He had it recorded official and everything.”
She put her hands on her hips. “He only had the right to half. He stole the rest when he filed the claim with only his name and left my grandfather off it. They were partners.”
“Yes, but—” Hunter had never asked about the claim. He’d seen the paperwork when he was a boy, though. His grandfather had always called Murphy his partner, but there was just one name on the claim: Colin Jacobson. Hunter had never given it much thought until now.
“My grandfather died from a broken heart after he lost that mine and the gold they’d sent to be assayed,” Scarlett continued with some heat. “‘Never should have trusted a weasel of a Jacobson,’ he said.”
“I’m sorry.” In all of his grandfather’s stories, the man had never mentioned his partner was dead. “What happened?”
Scarlett glared at him. “My grandfather couldn’t believe what yours had done. He was sick with a fever, but he insisted on going out to the mine so he could see for sure. I think he expected to find a note saying it was all a joke nailed to the claim post. The day was bitter cold and he fell, cracking the ice on the creek. Got his feet wet. He barely made it home. My grandmother buried him ten days later in the graveyard on the hill above the mine so he could look down on it. Pneumonia had set in. By then your grandfather had already left the state.”
“He didn’t know,” Hunter said, his voice stumbling. “I don’t think he even knew.”
His grandfather had talked his share of people out of money to finance some purpose or the other, but he’d never deliberately harmed anyone. Not like that. Given the date today, though, Hunter was wondering if the old man was taking care of every bit of bad business in his life.
“My grandmother had to take in washing to support her and her baby,” the woman said, her voice full of reproach. “Even now she claims that’s what caused her arthritis.”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean for that—” Hunter started and then stopped. He was going to have to stop defending his grandfather. Even if the man meant well, it never worked out that way.
Everything was silent for a moment.
“My grandmother didn’t think he could have known, either,” the woman finally admitted.
“I’m sorry.” Hunter didn’t say anything else. He had no other words. It had happened long ago, but he could see it was like yesterday for the Murphy family. Sort of like the car accident in his family. Something no one ever got over.
Then Scarlett faced him directly.
“I understand your grandfather has buildings on the property he’s giving us,” she said as though she didn’t expect any further answer to her grief.
Hunter nodded. He understood the desire to keep heartache to oneself. Talking didn’t always help. He knew that himself.
“The house isn’t much,” he admitted. No one had lived in it for seventeen years. They had left the furniture there when they’d moved out, but they hadn’t maintained the place. There could be rats in the cupboards for all he knew. The cats had gone to the new place. “The barn is serviceable.”
Right now the house and barn were the only things not leased to Mr. Cleary. His grandfather had pointed out numerous times that the house should be fixed so he’d have a place to move when Hunter brought a bride home to the new place. Not that there was a wedding in sight. Until his grandfather stopped his schemes, Hunter was stuck. If he did marry, he had no intention of kicking his grandfather out of their home. But he couldn’t ask anyone to put up with the old man’s schemes, either, especially now that they were back in full force. That pretty much tied everything in a nice uncompromising knot.
“You won’t want the house,” Hunter said when he saw that Scarlett wasn’t weakening. “It’s almost falling down. Needs new electrical. Plumbing. Paint. The works.”
“You’re just as bad as your grandfather,” she said with a grin. “You can’t stop me, though. He warned me about you.”
Hunter blinked.
“He what?” He almost couldn’t speak, he was so astonished. “He warned you about me?”
He was the good grandson. Always had been. The one who had stayed. The one who fed the cats warm milk when the snow was knee deep outside and the wind was howling. The one who gave everyone back their money, even if they had lost their receipt. He’d half raised his brothers, made sure they got to school on time and washed behind their ears. And his grandfather had warned her about him?
“Yes,” Scarlett said emphatically. “And my family needs that house—and the land. It’s going to be our new home. We have your grandfather’s promise in writing and we’ll sue if that’s what we need to do to get what should be ours.”
With that threat, she turned back to the car, clearly dismissing him.
Hunter did the only thing he could. He turned around, climbed the steps and stomped into the café. He had to wait a minute for the cat to slip through the open door first, but they both finally made it inside with their dignities intact. As he suspected, his grandfather was calmly sitting at a table in the back —a cup of coffee and a half-eaten piece of apple pie in front of him. Hunter noted that, as usual, the waitress had removed the salt and pepper shakers from the table. His grandfather had a history of putting them in his pocket when he left. Hunter had finally gotten tired of bringing them back so he’d asked the owner, a nice woman by the name of Linda Enger, if she would just have them taken off the table when his grandfather came in. She’d not only done that, she’d preserved the old man’s dignity by telling the waitresses it was to cut down on his salt intake.
“What are you up to with the Murphy family?” Hunter demanded to know as he sat at the table. The cat curled itself under his chair. His grandfather had given up shaving these days in favor of a short white beard that made him look deceptively jolly. He’d lost some height in his old age and was a little more round than he should be. He still wore his trademark long-sleeved denim shirts, though. He said the ladies liked them because their color matched his eyes. Red suspenders held up the black wool pants he preferred. Hunter suddenly wondered if his grandfather wanted to look like Santa Claus so he could fool people easier.
“Why today of all days?” Hunter continued, working to soften the steel in his voice.
His grandfather shrugged. “It’s time we moved on.”
“And why would you warn someone about me?” Hunter added. He needed to be calm if he expected to learn anything. “I’m the good guy here.”
The old man just looked at him.
“Scarlett Murphy isn’t a fool,” Hunter said, trying again. “So you might as well let me in on the plan you have.”
The smell of the frying bacon reminded Hunter that it had been hours since he’d had breakfast. He looked over and caught the eye of the waitress. She was new, all starched and proper, and he didn’t know her name. He nodded to her all the same. Then he turned back to his grandfather.
“I thought it would be obvious—now that Scarlett is here.” The elderly man smiled and then he paused the way he did when he wanted someone’s full attention.
No one ever said his grandfather didn’t take full advantage of a suspenseful moment, Hunter thought.
“What is it?” Hunter asked, focusing completely on him now. That was the only way to find out anything. “What are you doing this time?”
“Well,” his grandfather said softly, seeming to relish his announcement, “I warned her about you because women like a little excitement in a man.”
“And?” Hunter knew he wasn’t finished.
“I’m trying to find you a bride since you won’t do it yourself.”
“A—b-bride,” Hunter stammered, staring at the old man in astonishment.
The sky outside had gotten darker and the café was filled with shadows. Hunter told himself that he should have stayed home today. His grandfather as a matchmaker was preposterous. Only then did Hunter realize the letter, lying so innocently open on the table, had been bait. His grandfather had known he would charge in like a knight on a white horse to save the unknown Scarlett.
“There’s no one like those Murphy women,” his grandfather noted in satisfaction as he rested the palms of his hands flat on the table, looking pleased with himself. “You’re my grandson. You deserve the best.”
“I don’t need you to find me a wife.” The thought was alarming.
“Well, you sure aren’t looking for yourself,” his grandfather retorted as he lifted his hand and slapped it down for emphasis. The old man looked startled at how loud the smack was. The sound of a cup shattering sent Hunter’s attention over to the waitress. She was staring down at the broken cup at her feet as coffee ran all over the floor.
“I’m sorry,” Hunter said to her as he started to rise. The cat had already snuck off to lie under another table.
“No.” The waitress held up a hand to stop him. “I’ve got it. You just stay with your grandfather. See that he doesn’t have any salt.”
Hunter sat back down and looked at his grandfather. The circus had only just started. “Why are you doing this?”
“Well, you’re not getting any younger. A man like you needs a family.”
Neither one said anything for a moment. Hunter focused on the red plastic carnation in the middle of the table as he counted to ten.
“I’ve got a family,” he finally whispered.
He’d never understood what happened to make his father swerve so fast that the car flipped, but when it did, a fire started in the engine. He’d tried to move his unconscious father, but when Hunter hadn’t been able to do it, he’d climbed out of the vehicle alone. He’d gone to his mother, hoping she could help, but she was on the ground bleeding and hadn’t even seemed aware of the fire. She’d taken his hand in hers, begged him to promise he’d keep the family together no matter what happened. The younger boys had been lying near a ditch crying, but they hadn’t heard her. Hunter had looked back at the increasing smoke but couldn’t leave his mother—or was it that he wouldn’t leave? That question had tormented him for years. Had he been too afraid of the fire to return?
He’d finally made the promise to his mother just as a pickup had come screeching to a halt a few feet from them. His grandfather had been there then, lifting him up in a hug. The old man had set him down and raced to the burning car. Hunter had tried to stop his tears, but he hadn’t been able to. The ambulance and Sheriff Wall, their red lights all flashing, had come soon after that. They’d put the fire out, but Hunter had never seen either of his parents alive again.
Hunter hadn’t told anyone about the promise he’d made....
But maybe his grandfather had suspected, because he grunted and said, “I mean a proper family. Not just people you think you have to take care of.”
Hunter shook his head. “I don’t mind.”
“I know you don’t,” his grandfather said gently. “That’s not the point.”
“This woman will likely sue us,” Hunter said before the other man could say anything else. A man didn’t always choose his family, but he still had an obligation toward them. The cat had come back to sit at his feet like a sentinel. Loyalty was bred into those cats, too.
The older man looked taken back. “You mean, Scarlett? She can’t sue us. I didn’t promise her you’d marry her or anything. I’m not that daft.”
“No, but you did promise her some land.”
“Well, she wasn’t going to come down here from Alaska for the pleasure of meeting us, now was she?” his grandfather said, unrepentant and still more cheerful than he ought to be in Hunter’s opinion.
Just then he heard the door of the café open and he turned around. The woman stood there, silhouetted, the sun shining behind her and—Hunter gulped—a small red-haired boy’s hand in hers.
“She’s got a son,” he whispered as he turned to his grandfather. “She’s already married.”
That would teach the old man a thing or two about meddling, Hunter thought in relief.
“Divorced,” his grandfather said as he gallantly rose and gestured for the woman and boy to join them. “Desperate and broke, too. You should have no trouble.”
Hunter was speechless. He would have nothing but trouble. He could tell that much already.
* * *
As Scarlett stood inside the doorway, she could see that the sun-faded curtains didn’t quite reach across the windows in this place. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed long, thin strips of light shining through the gaps and falling across the full length of the nicely polished black-and-white tiled floor. Steel stools with red upholstered tops were lined against a small counter. A dozen tables, a few of them in use, were scattered around. She saw the cat from earlier stretched out under the table where the Jacobsons sat.
She tightened her grip on the handle of her leather briefcase. Her grandmother had given her the power of attorney to sign Colin’s papers. The document and a letter for the man were inside.
Hunter stood from the table where he had been sitting with his grandfather as she examined him. Square jaw, muscular, belligerent. Unfortunately she’d had her fill of men like him. She’d been married to one and learned the hard way that they strutted around giving orders as though they were kings of the world, never giving a moment’s thought to anyone but themselves.
She wondered what Hunter’s real reasons were for trying to stop her. She’d been under the impression the Jacobsons were rich enough to part with that small piece of land easily. He must be greedy—the kind of man who wouldn’t give a beggar a crust of stale bread even if he had a dozen loaves himself.
