The Inheritance (33 page)

If not mistaken, he’d just been hired by Miss McKenna Ashford! The first woman boss he’d ever reported to.

“Thank you, ma’am. I would.”

But despite her invitation, she didn’t move. A puzzled look came over her face. Wyatt trailed her focus to Whiskey standing saddled by the porch.

“Is there a problem, ma’am?”

“No.” She squinted. “No problem. I’m just wondering . . . where did you get that saddle?”

Now he understood. “You’re not the first one who’s asked. I bought it from Trenton at the livery. It’s a real beauty, isn’t it?”

She smiled. But slowly, as if hesitant to. “Yes, it is. And . . . it suits you.”

“Thank you, ma’am. It’s by far the finest saddle I’ve ever owned.”

“Is that so?” she said, her smile deepening.

She opened the door wider and he stepped inside. Robert was asleep on the couch, and Emma’s door was still closed. He hated to disturb the hush that lay over the house. When McKenna handed him his mug, he motioned toward the front porch. “Why don’t we take our coffee outside?” he whispered.

“Good idea.”

He held the door open for her. “I have those, on occasion.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” she said, brushing by him, a fresh-poured cup of the steaming brew in hand.

Her smirk inspired his, and he followed her outside. He sat beside her on the porch steps and for several moments, they drank their coffee in silence. He didn’t feel the need to nudge conversation, and apparently neither did she. His gaze scaled the mountains bordering the fields on either side, and as final vestiges of pinkish dawn surrendered to new day, gray mist that clung to the highest peaks evaporated before his eyes. Never would he tire of these mountains.

McKenna wrapped her hands around the mug. “I imagine it wasn’t easy for you to come back here. Took a lot of courage.”

Wyatt peered into his empty cup. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like being put in my place.”

Her sigh came out part laugh, part huff. “I was so angry with you.”

“Yes, ma’am . . . I know.”

“And a part of me . . . still is.”

He slowly nodded, respectful of that anger. But even more respectful of her—for admitting that to him. He looked over at her hands clasped loosely around her cup and wondered what it would feel like to have one of them fit snug into his. Her hands were small. Not delicate, but slim. Her fingers had strength to them, just like she did.

He felt her staring. “I don’t want to start anything back up, believe me, ma’am, but . . . I do want to tell you that my saying all that yesterday wasn’t done with any intention to hurt you.”

She worried an edge of loose hem on her robe. “I know that . . . mostly.” Her smile was weak. “But still . . . it did.”

Words failed him. Close enough to see the flecks of gold in the soft umber of her eyes, he reached for her hand. She jumped like a skittish filly. But she didn’t pull away. He held her hand in his, memorizing the feel of her soft skin, and of how her fingers gripped his, shyly at first. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For hurting you.” And he was.

He wasn’t sorry for what he’d said, because he still believed he’d spoken
the truth. He only wished they’d gotten along better from the very start—that day in Foster’s clinic. Seems like no matter what he did, she was always letting him know his attention wasn’t welcome. But watching her now, feeling her fingers threaded with his, he sensed that might be changing. And he intended on taking full advantage of every opportunity to win her trust.

If there was one thing he knew a little about, it was pursuing a person. And though he wasn’t about to give the woman beside him fair warning, Miss Ashford had better be on her guard. Because he planned on doing everything in his power to win not only her trust, but her heart as well.

McKenna was tying the sash on Emma’s dress when a knock sounded on the door.

“Is it the mean banker man?” Emma whispered, blue eyes wide.

If she weren’t so nervous, McKenna might’ve smiled. And she would have corrected Emma if what the child had said weren’t true. But Billings was not a kind man. “I’m sure it is.” She adjusted the bowed sash. “Now remember what I told you.”

Emma nodded. “Stay with Uncle Robert. And don’t go outside.”

McKenna brushed a kiss to her forehead. “That’s exactly right.” She caught a passing glimpse of herself in the mirror and smoothed the front of her dress. She could still feel the strength of Wyatt’s hand as it had held hers. She hadn’t meant to jump like she did, but it’d been so long since she’d been touched by a man. Tenderly, like that. And the way he’d looked at her . . . Heat spiraled from her chest down into her belly just thinking about it again.

She searched for him through the window. He’d said he was going to the lower field to check on the cattle, to see how many were ready for market. She still couldn’t believe he’d come back. And his timing was . . . She sighed. Nothing short of answered prayer. And that he had her saddle! Her finest work yet. She’d wanted to tell him how much it meant that he owned that particular saddle, but her agreement with Casey Trenton to keep her employment secretive prohibited it. “
It’s the finest saddle I’ve
ever owned
,” Caradon had said, pride shining in his eyes. And she would carry that light inside her for a long time to come.

A second knock sounded, and she hurried into the main room where Robert was lying on the couch.

“Somebody’s at the door, Kenny!” he barked.

“
Robert
. . . I’m right here,” she whispered, pointing. “And the windows are open.” She headed for the door.

“I don’t care who hears me!”

Her face flushed warm. Her brother was in rare form this morning. Part of her wanted to tell him the same thing she’d told Emma—to stay quiet and keep out of sight. But if she did, he’d be up off that couch in the space of a breath, despite Dr. Foster’s orders for bed rest.

Hand on the latch, she inhaled, hoping she at least appeared relaxed.

She opened the door, and saw only Billings. “Mr. Billings . . .” She stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind her. “I thought you were—” Then she saw him. The man on the far end of the porch. His back was to her. Feet firmly planted, arms crossed over his chest, he looked out over the fields as though he were a king surveying a conquered kingdom. She bristled inside at his possessive posture.

“I hope you’re well this morning, Miss Ashford.” Mr. Billings wore a smile that seemed out of place.

I’m not, thanks to you.
“I’m fine, Mr. Billings. Thank you.” She stopped short of wishing him the same, waiting for the other man to look in her direction. Without question, he heard her. He had to. Yet he didn’t turn.

Billings gestured with a flourish. “Mr. Talbot, shall I make the introductions?”

Only then did the man turn, and McKenna felt like she’d been gut-punched. She barely heard Billings’ voice as he went through the formalities. She hadn’t seen Vince Talbot since he and Janie married seven years earlier, but—she worked to regain her composure—the resemblance this man bore to her memory of Vince that day was uncanny.

“Miss Ashford,” he said, tilting his head in greeting. “So nice to make your acquaintance, ma’am. And may I offer my condolences on the loss of your cousin—my sister-in-law, Janie,” he added softly. “I also apologize for this rather abrupt, and what I’m sure is a disconcerting, visit.”

He’d given her no reason for it, but already McKenna disliked him. Something in his demeanor set her on edge. While outwardly pleasant, shades of insincerity bordered his tone. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Talbot. Thank you for your condolences and may I return them . . . on behalf of . . . your brother.” It nearly choked her to say it.

He briefly bowed his head. “Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate that.”

A soft thud sounded from inside the cabin, and McKenna prayed it wasn’t Robert about to join them. At the moment, she didn’t care so much about him falling as him making his presence known. All she needed was for Billings to see her brother beaten and bruised, learn about what he’d done, and then portray her as an unfit guardian for Emma.

She hurried to fill the silence. “How long had it been since you’d last seen Vince, Mr. Talbot?” The question felt rude this early in conversation—and Billings’s frown confirmed it was— but she didn’t care.

Talbot sighed and ran a hand along the porch railing—
her
porch railing—as though it already belonged to him. She studied him, wanting to find fault, hoping for some frayed thread that would unravel this man who bore such a likeness to Vince.

“I hadn’t seen Vince in . . . at least a year,” he said. “Maybe a little longer. I remember because I was on my way to California last time I was through Copper Creek.”

“California? What took you all the way out there?”

He smiled, and a single dimple framed the left curve of his mouth. Vince had been handsome, she remembered, but not like this man. Harrison Talbot was positively striking with his dark hair and dark eyes.
Swarthy
was a word that came to mind. As did arrogant.

“I’ve been traveling for years, ma’am, seeing the country, watching it grow.”

McKenna nodded. In other words, he was a drifter. “And just what is your occupation, Mr. Talbot?”

He moved closer. “I’ve been many things in my life, Miss Ashford. Right now . . .” His smooth demeanor shed a layer of warmth. “I’m looking forward to doing some ranching.”

She stiffened. “May I come directly to the point, Mr. Talbot?”

“You strike me as the kind of woman who would.” There went that dimple again.

Heat shot through her veins. “I was with Janie Talbot when she died, and she named me as her inheritor. Witnesses were present. And I’ve been here ever since, working this ranch, and keeping the promises I made to her that night.”

He stepped closer to the rail and pressed down on one of the boards with the tip of his boot. The slat gave easily beneath his weight. “I appreciate that, Miss Ashford. You’ve been doing a fine job.” He took in a breath and let it out slowly. “I feel for the situation you’re in. And I know this is difficult for you, having just moved from Missouri all the way out here to Copper Creek. And likely not welcoming the prospect of the long trip back.”

Instinctively, McKenna clenched her fists. “There is no money you’d stand to inherit, Mr. Talbot. My cousin and her husband left this farm steeped in debt. As I’m sure Mr. Billings has told you . . .” She glanced at Billings, who stood a couple of feet away, silent, his expression attentive. “The mortgage on this property is currently entering foreclosure. My brother and
I have both been working dutifully to make payments to the bank, and—”

Talbot raised his hand. “Mr. Billings briefed me on the situation, ma’am. However, I possess the means to pay off the mortgage, free and clear, so that won’t be a problem for me.”

McKenna slid her gaze back to Billings, who was suddenly preoccupied with his hands. A dozen questions shot through her mind. Had Billings gone out and found a buyer who would pay his price? And in cash, no less? She wouldn’t put it past him. But how did he just happen to find someone who was a dead ringer for Vince Talbot? Even wanting to believe it, she had to admit the coincidence seemed a stretch.

Talbot surveyed the fields again, sighing. “This land meant a lot to my older brother, and I know he wanted to keep it in the family. Family meant a lot to Vince.”

“Which makes it even odder that in all the years I knew Vince, he never once mentioned your name. He never even mentioned having a brother.”

He glanced down at his boots. “Up until last year, it’d been years since we’d spoken. We had a bit of a falling out, you might say.”

“Over what?”

A spark of challenge lit his eyes. “Oddly enough, it was when we were younger, before he met Janie. He wanted me to move out West with him and start a ranch.” The hint of challenge faded. “And now I’d do just about anything if I could turn back those years and take him up on that offer.”

McKenna was surprised her coffee stayed down. She snuck a glimpse at Billings, wondering if he was buying all this. The banker looked spellbound. And if she wasn’t mistaken, his eyes were glistening. She’d had enough. Even if this man
was
Vince’s brother—which, despite his uncanny resemblance, she doubted— Janie had bequeathed the ranch to her. Not him. And that should be what counted according to the law. She hoped. “Mr. Billings, have you heard from the circuit judge in Denver yet?”

“No, ma’am. But I only wired the courthouse yesterday. These things take time . . . as you well know.”

Ignoring his last digging remark, she took a step toward the door. “Please let me know as soon as the date is set. Now if you two gentlemen will please excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

“One last thing,” Mr. Billings said. “Would you mind if I show Mr. Talbot around? Just the outside buildings. I think it would be appropriate under the circumstances.”

Not knowing what else to do, she nodded. “That would be fine.”

Mr. Billings set off toward the barn. Talbot started to follow, then turned back.

“One more thing, Miss Ashford.” His dark eyes flashed. “I’d like to say hello to my niece, if you don’t mind. I’m sure Emma’s grown a foot since I last saw her.”