This Hero for Hire (6 page)

This was obviously a tough memory, and Susannah felt Boone's pain in a sudden clinching inside her chest. “Cyrus sounds like a man who lived by his own rules, and one of those was his desire to remain independent.”

“Stubborn is more like it,” Boone said without even a hint of malice.

“I got to know him from our letters,” she said. “He really cared about his land and his animals.”

Boone nodded. “Wouldn't leave it. Even though my grandmother died six years ago, Gramps stayed on. My parents, my brother and I tried to get him to sell and move into town, even had a nice little place picked out near the high school so he could walk to the football stadium for the games.”

Boone had given her the opening she needed, but she had to choose her words carefully. “I think your arguments might have gotten to him in time,” she said. “I was serious when I told you that he was considering selling to me. Maybe he was looking forward to that little house in town more than you thought.”

He took a long sip of tea. “I don't know about that.”

“When I arrived here, I was pretty confident that I would have a deal with Cyrus. He even expressed an interest in seeing the land farmed again. I was ready to sign the papers.”

“Things change,” Boone said.

“Look, I don't mean to push this issue...”

He frowned at her.

“But a lot of people are depending on this deal. Plus a monetary grant from the Georgia Department of Agriculture is hanging in the balance. Your grandfather's land will only benefit from what we do out there. We plan to make so many improvements to the traditional farming methods...”

She paused for a moment. He remained silent, his features giving nothing away. She resisted the urge to squirm.

After releasing a sigh, she continued. “Anyway, I was hoping you would tell me how to contact your father. I know he's traveling now, but as your grandfather's heir, perhaps he would consider...”

Boone sat straight. His fist wrapped tightly around his glass. “Hold on a minute.”

“All the details would remain the same. A cash purchase directly into your father's bank account. The house would still stay in his name if he doesn't want it included...”

“You don't understand.” Boone captured her gaze with those intense dark forest eyes. “My father didn't inherit the property. The house, the barn, the land—it all went to my brother and me. Jared and I own every last speck of dirt you're so anxious to get your hands into.”

* * *

H
E
 
ALMOST
 
FELT
 
guilty for having to set her straight, but what else could he do? She couldn't go on believing that Braddock land, soil that he loved, was going to slip into her possession with the simple flourish of a pen stroke.

She'd gone completely still. Her hands rested flat on the table, and her spine hugged the back of her chair. Her face seemed to fall. The only sign that she had heard him and was digesting the information was the sizzling flash of blue in her eyes.

“Can I get you more tea?” he asked. “Maybe something stronger?”

“I don't think any liquid refreshment is going to help,” she said. “I have people coming. Agroecologists like I am, botanists, experts skilled in organic farming. They're planning to leave Oregon as soon as they find someone to manage our most recent sustainable farm. I expect them here in two, maybe three weeks. They're bringing equipment. Tools, seedlings, safe fertilizers, all the things I couldn't fit in my truck.”

“Weren't you a bit premature in telling them to come?”

“I didn't think so. We've wanted to establish a sustainable farm on the East Coast for a year now. I was pretty sure we'd do it on Cyrus's land.”

“Well, sorry.”

Her gaze remained fixed on him until he was the one who blinked. “This is serious to me,” she added. “And all you can think to do is offer me alcohol?”

“Actually I offered tea first. And I certainly didn't mean to imply that a shot of whiskey would clear this mess up.”

She released a long breath. “But why? Why wouldn't your grandfather leave his property to his son?”

Boone ignored the fact that this was a very personal question to which Susannah really had no right to an answer. There was a good reason for his grandfather's decision.

“Dad had no interest in the farm. He owned the hardware store in town until he retired. Then he sold it, and he and Mom decided to see the country.”

“And you were the one who kept things running out there, you and your brother?”

“Not so much Jared. Of course, when we were kids we both spent long days with Gramps. He taught us about caring for the horses, harvesting the crops he grew and took to the produce warehouse in Libertyville.” Boone smiled. “We even learned how to stoke a coal furnace and clean a shotgun. But then Jared lost interest. He went off to college, got his degree in finance, married an Atlanta girl and became a city boy. My history is obvious. I'm still here.”

Her eyes widened so that she almost looked hopeful. “So do you own the land equally with Jared?”

Oh, no. He wasn't going to admit that he owned fifty-one percent. Gramps had made out his will so that one brother would have the final say in case of disputes. “Gramps took care of both of us,” he said.

“Okay. But what do the two of you want to do with the land?”

She had no problem asking the tough questions. He had to be honest with her. “I don't know, Susannah. My grandfather has only been gone a few weeks.”

“Well, yes, that's true. You're probably still grieving and not thinking about more practical matters.”

He sniffed the air. “Not entirely true. I can smell that pork roast in the oven and that vegetable stew. So why don't we put land acquisitions aside for now and get really practical about satisfying my hunger.”

She stood quickly. “I almost forgot about the food.” She brought the roast to the table along with a healthy portion of the stew for each of them.

Boone sliced off a thick piece of the meat and began to eat. “Even better than last night,” he said, enjoying every mouthful. He noticed that Susannah ate like a little bird. How could she be a Georgia country girl and eat like that? Maybe his information had ruined her appetite.

He wiped his mouth and took a sip of tea. “Tell me something,” he said.

“Sure.”

“Why my grandfather's land? This area has some of the richest soil in the state. Can't you just pick another bit of acreage? A number of small farmers here would be happy to sell to you. Times have been tough for a lot of them. Plus, you'd probably do better with soil that's been farmed recently. It would take a lot of work to get Gramps's dirt tilled and ready for seed.”

She pointed her spoon at him. “It's like I tried to tell you earlier. That's where you're wrong, although a lot of people think that. I specifically wanted that farm because it
hadn't
been planted in years. The original nutrients are just now returning to the soil.” She narrowed her eyes. “And do I have to tell you that Cyrus's plot is the most level property around here? Where else in the foothills of the Blue Ridge can a person find forty continuous acres that don't run up and down the hillsides?”

He couldn't argue that point. Boone's great grandfather had purchased that particular piece of flatland because he recognized its value.

She leaned over the corner of the table, her face so close to his that he could smell the almond scent of her shampoo. “I want that land, Boone. I've wanted it since I saw it in the spring. I've worked out an entire program based on acquiring that land. You and I can make this work.”

Now his appetite vanished, and he picked up his glass to wash down the lump in his throat. He watched her chest swell, a determined rise and fall of suntanned skin above the neckline of her blouse. And he forced his gaze upward to her eyes. Years had passed, but there was still something magnetic about Susannah, something that made a guy's insides go soft.

“You're talking about my birthright,” he said, his voice hoarse. “And besides, it's not just my decision. There's Jared.”

“Jared doesn't live here. He probably doesn't care.”

“Of course he does. That property is his heritage, too.” And just recently he had contacted Boone to see if they should make a decision about the property. As far as Boone knew, Jared was anxious to turn their grandfather's farm into green, but not the green of produce. Boone saw Jared's love of money as a potential argument between them.

She remained silent a moment, chewing on her bottom lip. Then she placed her hand on the table near his arm. One finger stretched out toward his forearm, nearly touching. He drew a quick breath and stood. He didn't entirely trust her—at least he didn't trust the Susannah Rhodes he'd heard all the stories about. And the one who'd hijacked him in the gym that day.

“You cooked. I'll clean up.” He carried dishes to the sink.

She waited while he filled the dishwasher, but he was aware of her gaze on his back. The silence made the simple task seem long and complicated.

When he turned toward her, she was smiling. “I've got it.”

“Got what?”

“The perfect solution. I'll
rent
the land from you. I won't get the whole grant I was promised from the Department of Agriculture but I think they will support our efforts. I'll pay you a fair amount according to a land-lease agreement. It will all be legal and above board. I'll need a short-term lease that is renewable at a mutually agreed-upon interval...”

Her enthusiasm had returned, but he was far from accepting her offer. Bottom line, she was still going to bring in her crew and her equipment and do who-knew-what to his birthright. He wasn't ready to agree to that, at least not tonight.

“I don't know,” he said. “I'll have to think about it. I have some concerns.”

She took a breath, held it as if praying for patience. Finally she said, “You know what, Boone? Now I think you're just enjoying watching me squirm, knowing that my crew could soon be driving across the country and knowing that this project was my dream for my home state. I think you're beginning to get some weird kick out of being able to squash it.”

“That's ridiculous. Georgia is my home state, too, and I want what's best for it.”

“Sure you do.” She walked to the door, leaving him leaning against the kitchen counter. “Be glad we're not still in high school,” she said.

“What? Why's that?”

“Because this time if I took you into the gymnasium equipment room, it wouldn't be to kiss you!”

She stormed out, and he was left thinking about what she meant. And he couldn't help feeling disappointed that a repeat kiss wasn't part of her plan.

CHAPTER SIX

“S
O
 
WHAT
 
DID
you think of your first day on the job?” Lila asked James Halloran. Wearing civilian clothes—Lila in jeans and a light sweater, and James in khakis and a sports shirt, they were seated across from each other in a corner booth at the Union Tavern. She'd treated him to a drink after their shift ended. It was the least she could do since he'd been so attentive to her instructions. And frankly, attentive in general.

“It's a great little town,” James said, emphasizing the word
little
. “What's there to do around here after hours?”

“Hate to tell you, James, but we're doing it. You're having a Guinness and I'm having a Coors Light. For excitement we can tell the waitress to switch the orders if you want.”

He laughed. “In Libertyville at least there is a movie theater and a shopping mall—not that I shop much.”

“I've been to the movies in Libertyville,” she said. “And sometimes I go shopping with Mike Langston's wife, Jenna. She's into baby clothes right now because she's eight months pregnant, so I've been avoiding the mall with her until she can shop for grown-up stuff again.”

“I love the movies,” James said. “How about you and I go sometime?”

She stared at him over her beer glass. So she hadn't been imagining his interest while they had been in the cruiser earlier. She'd caught him stealing glances—which Boone never did. James was a buff, good-looking guy and seemed like a competent cop. Unfortunately, he wasn't Boone. “I'm kind of involved right now,” she said. “But thanks.”

“Sure. I didn't know. I asked around and some of the other guys said you weren't in a relationship.”

Yeah, you and everybody else in town believes that, including Boone
.

* * *

B
OONE
 
SLEPT
 
FITFULLY
 
knowing Susannah was just two doors down from him. He'd never been a fussy sleeper. His high school teachers could vouch for the fact that he could fall asleep almost anytime, anywhere. But on his first night at the Rhodes mansion, he lay awake listening for sounds. Well, that was what he was being paid for, wasn't it? To pick up any unusual noises, interpret them and decide if he should act on them? Although, technically, the sounds should be threatening and coming from outside, not from two doors down. Albee wasn't paying him this big salary to listen for Susannah to turn over in bed.

Sometime in the middle of the night he did drift off and was sleeping soundly when a take-charge voice from the outside brought him fully awake. He quickly jumped from the bed and crossed to the window, which he'd left open so he could hear trespassers. He leaned on the sill and looked down at the patio at the back of the house.

Susannah was seated next to the pool at an iron breakfast table, a cup of coffee steaming in front of her and her cell phone pressed against her ear. She was fully dressed in jeans and a teal-colored T-shirt with something printed on the front. The sun was just a sliver of promise in the eastern horizon, yet Susannah appeared to be well into her day.

“We need to take the pamphlets to the post office in person,” she said into the cell phone. “We have to arrange for a bulk rate. All the address stickers are in the top-right desk drawer.”

She paused and took a sip of coffee while the other person spoke. “Yes, I'll be in before noon. This is just the first round of mail-outs, but it's very important. How many volunteers are there to help you?”

Apparently satisfied with the answer, she nodded. “Okay, you see to the pamphlets, and I'll arrange for the lawn signs to be printed. We need to find about two hundred people in town who are willing to publicly announce their support for my dad with a sign in their front yard. That means door-to-door canvassing.”

Boone was pleased to see that Susannah was taking her father's campaign seriously. He didn't know what he would do if he discovered that she neglected her father's reelection to pursue her goals—ones that were in direct opposition to the governor's chances of a second term. At least she was keeping her word to her father, making it easier for him to keep his to her. At this point he saw no reason to tell the governor what his daughter was doing in addition to helping him get reelected. So far she hadn't so much as dropped a seed into the ground.

Boone checked the clock by his bed. Almost 7:30. He had to get out to the farm and feed the chickens and horses. He debated asking Susannah to go with him and decided he probably should call Lila to see if she could come out here to stay at the house until her shift started at noon. After last night he figured Susannah wouldn't want to be within a hundred feet of him.

He'd just dropped the curtain back into place when he heard her voice.

“Are you always such a late sleeper?” she called from the patio.

He pushed the curtain aside again. Yes, she was looking directly up at his window, so she couldn't have been talking to anyone else.

He leaned out. “The hospitality is just too welcoming at this house,” he said. “You made me feel so at home, I slept like a baby.”

“We try to please.” She stood, cradling her mug in both hands. “If you want coffee, it's made. If you want a muffin, there are a couple on the counter. If you want pancakes and bacon, you're out of luck.”

“I'll be right down.”

“Good. We're burning daylight, Officer. And there are horses to feed and eggs to gather.”

He masked a gulp of surprise by clearing his throat. “You're coming with me again to the farm?”

“Of course. Why wouldn't I? My goal is to make your life easier, Boone. And I consider myself the official egg gatherer.”

Sure. He didn't know why she was so friendly and willing to cooperate this morning, but he doubted the reason was to make his life easier. As he slipped a T-shirt over his head and pulled on his worn work jeans, he mentally prepared himself for another onslaught of gimme-your-land arguments.

* * *

S
USANNAH
 
WAS
 
ALMOST
 
giddy with the thought of returning to Cyrus Braddock's land this morning. Lush, green, level farmland was what she lived for, and this acreage was what she wanted. And she was determined to have it. She stuffed a duffel bag filled with essential tools for her morning's work, zipped it closed and carried it to Boone's truck. He emerged from the house a few minutes later, a cup of coffee in one hand and a pair of muffins in the other.

“You sure you want to go out there with me?” he asked. “I can have a fellow officer stay with you here if you'd rather.”

“Oh, no. I'm anxious to help.”

He glanced down at the bag sitting on the gravel next to the cargo area. “What do you have in there? You bringing your gym clothes?”

He blushed slightly. Was he remembering her reference to the gym equipment room last night?

“Just a few tools I thought I might need.”

He picked up the bag and tossed it into the back of the truck. “Seems heavy enough for quite a few tools.” Then, as if remembering to reassert his opinion on ownership of Braddock land, he added. “Don't know why you'd need tools. All you require to pick up eggs is two hands.”

She climbed into the passenger side and waited for him to get behind the wheel. “I thought I might play around in the dirt a little today. If that's okay with you. I promise I won't confiscate any of it by hiding it in the bag.”

He smirked. “I don't mind. But won't that ruin your manicure?”

Why would he try to cut her down with a statement like that? Surely he knew by now that she wasn't a regular visitor to a manicure salon.

They drove in silence down the country roads. Boone picked at his muffin, even offering her a bite, which she turned down. He drank his coffee with gusto, however. After a few minutes he glanced at the printing on her T-shirt. “So, what does that mean exactly? ‘Eat like your life depends on it'?”

She plucked the shirt away from her chest. “Exactly what it says.”

“Knowing you, I'm thinking it means don't eat chicken, or cow or pork.”

“Good guess, Officer. Or pesticides and synthetic fertilizers.”

When they were almost at the farm, he turned on the radio. “You like country music?” he asked, as the preset station blasted Luke Bryan.

“When in Georgia, I do,” she said.

“How about when you're in Oregon?”

“Then, too.” She stared at his rigid profile. “We're not all that different, you and I.”

He snorted.

Passing the house, Boone pulled up in front of the barn and parked. “I'll be a couple of hours,” he said. “Horses need exercise.”

“That's perfect. I appreciate the time.”

He jumped down from the truck and ambled toward the barn. The horses, apparently catching his scent, began to whinny. “Watch out for snakes out there,” he called over his shoulder.

She removed her bag from the truck bed and slung it over her shoulder. “Thanks for the warning, but I can handle things that crawl on the ground. It's the upright creatures that bother me more.”

He disappeared into the sunlit interior of the barn, and she headed to the field.

Fifteen minutes later her hands were deliciously dirty with moist, pungent soil. She'd used a small spade to lightly turn the dirt, pushing the struggling green vegetation that had been ignored for years down into the ground. The more she worked, the more her confidence in this plot of land grew. Boone hadn't said no to her offer of renting the property. Not saying no was the next best thing to a yes in her way of thinking. And today was another day.

A steady hoof beat drew her attention from her work. Pushing the tattered straw hat that she always carried in her duffel bag back from her forehead, she looked up. Boone, astride the gorgeous mahogany-colored horse that was his own, the one he called Milo, rode toward her at a practiced trot.

She sighed, giving herself permission to enjoy the sight of a man so perfectly in tune with an animal. What woman wouldn't appreciate a tall, fit cowboy, his thighs pressed intimately against the ribs of a magnificent beast? The reins hung loosely in Boone's right hand. The horse seemed to obey his rider's thoughts rather than any verbal commands. This must be what it's like to know a creature so well, for so long, that it naturally responds to its master's desires. Susannah, with her nomad lifestyle, had never even owned a dog. Her mother had been allergic to pet hair of any kind, and Susannah had never felt the loss of animal kinship more than now.

Boone tugged lightly on the reins when he drew near, bringing his horse to a halt several feet from her. He crossed his hands over the saddle pommel and watched her for a minute. She tried to get back to work.

“Do you want something, Boone? I left the eggs by the barn door.”

“I saw them. Thanks.” He leaned forward. The worn leather of his saddle creaked.

She looked up. “What?”

“I'm just watching you, trying to figure out what you're trying to accomplish.”

“I'm not hurting the land, if you're thinking you need to defend your inheritance.”

“I don't. I'm curious, that's all.”

She returned her attention to the soil. “Really? Now you're interested in what I'm doing?”

“I may not have a fancy name like you do, Miss Agro...whatever, but I know a little about farming. It looks to me, contrary to your expressed opinion of not tilling, that tilling is precisely what you're trying to do. And you won't get far very fast with a simple spade.”

“I'm not tilling. I'm enriching.” She pushed another struggling weed into the dirt and lightly covered it. “By reintroducing these forgotten plants to the ground, even more nutrients that have been lost over the years will come back. And it will happen much quicker than you would think.” She reached into the duffel and pulled out a plastic bag filled with seeds.

“What are those?” Boone asked.

“Clover.” She sprinkled an abundance of seeds over the several feet she'd treated. “It will grow fast, protect the soil by not taking much from it and repel many harmful insects. A win–win.”

“And then what? Who around these parts wants a crop of clover?”

“You can let your horses graze on it, can't you?”

He shrugged. “Sure, I guess so.”

“And what's left will be pushed into the ground again. In a short time, this soil will be rich with natural nutrients, so healthy that serious organic farming can be introduced. We'll have a minimal harvest this fall, and by the spring, corn or any other vegetables should do very well.”

He dropped the reins and dismounted. She was aware of him looking over her shoulder. “When will you see the first sprouts of clover?”

“In a matter of days. Within a month you'll be able to smell the sweet scent of one of nature's most beneficial plants. The principle of organic farming is simple, Boone.” She sat back in the dirt and wiped her hands on her jeans. “If man would just apply natural ingredients to the soil, we'd all be better off. Mother Nature takes care of herself.”

He removed his hat and pushed his hair back from his forehead. She stared a bit too long at the blush of bronze skin on his face. The sun looked good on him. Healthy, vital. No freckles to remind him that he was fair and prone to sunburn. It would be nice to enjoy the sun without having to smear sunblock all over like she did.

“You sound like you know what you're talking about,” he said.

“I studied this for years,” she said. “I do know what I'm talking about.”

He scratched his nape. “I've been thinking, Susannah.”