How could she expect him to believe her when she’d done nothing except lie to him from the moment they met? She had tricked him, even if it wasn’t for money, as he thought.
“Don’t worry about him. He’s still learning his way around,” Roy told her with a wink. “He’ll settle down.”
Delaney forced a smile. She couldn’t worry about Conner—at least, not too much. Not now. It was all she could do to finish cooking their breakfast before running for the bathroom.
THE BARN SMELLED of manure and animals. The first time Conner had stood inside it, he’d immediately compared the smell to the scent of moist, rich earth so prevalent in Napa—and thought the place stunk to high heaven. He’d wondered how anyone tolerated it. But somehow, the smell of the barn didn’t bother him anymore. Ironically enough, he sort of liked it. There was comfort to be found here, something that spoke of sweat and hard work, of the land, of his heritage.
Breathing deeply, Conner tried to forget about his nasty-tasting breakfast, and Delaney and her much more tempting omelettes, and even Roy’s silent disapproval of his surliness toward their new cook.
He hefted his saddle from the rack, preparing to ride. Roy and the others didn’t understand what was going on. They didn’t know how Delaney had used him. And they had no idea what sort of bind he was in now. If he was going to save the ranch, he had to do it fast, before the secret of Delaney’s pregnancy got out, or he wouldn’t have the chance. What she’d done had effectively cut the fuse his grandfather had given him to a fraction of its original length.
Trigger, his horse, nickered as Conner settled the saddle on his back. He patted the gelding’s neck and started cinching the girth strap, eager now that he was away from the house to get out on the open range. There, nothing except the rugged beauty of the mountains, his breath misting in the cold and the solid feel of his horse moving beneath him seemed of any consequence—but the telephone interrupted him before he could get away.
Taking a moment to finish with the saddle, he glanced over his shoulder at the wall, where the flashing light and constant ringing told him someone—Roy?—was patching a call through to him from the house. There were several more short bursts before he reached the phone, but when he finally brought the receiver to his ear, he wished he hadn’t bothered. It was Stephen, his uncle.
“What’s up?” Conner asked. “Is my mom okay?” His uncles contacted him once a week or so to check on his progress, but they typically called at night.
“She’s fine, if you can call someone who lives like a hermit fine. She really should find something to do with her life. Devoting herself to Grandfather and you is noble, but he isn’t going to be around forever, and we both know how much joy you’ve brought her.”
Conner felt a muscle in his cheek begin to twitch. “And you’d make any mother proud, is that it, Stephen?”
“Just stating the facts.”
“I’m aware of the facts. Why’d you call?”
“To tell you that we’ve made a few decisions on our end regarding the ranch.”
Conner felt a tremor of foreboding. “What kind of decisions?”
“Grandfather met with a Realtor yesterday, who—”
“He what?” Conner broke in.
“He met with a Realtor who specializes in large spreads, and—”
“Why?”
Stephen chuckled. “Surely even you aren’t that obtuse, Con.”
“Grandfather gave me a year. It’s only been a couple of months. What the hell is he doing meeting with a Realtor so early? Is he thinking of selling out?”
“I set up the meeting.” Stephen sounded smug. “With as long as it’s taking this type of investment property to sell, we need to put the ranch on the market right away. Unless we get lucky, it’ll take a year to liquidate it as it is.”
“Grandfather doesn’t want to sell.”
“Well, he’s a little sentimental about it, I admit. But he’s a businessman. He knows we’ll have to sell eventually. Why prolong the inevitable?”
“Are you putting on the pressure because you’re afraid the ranch is whittling away your inheritance, Stephen?” Conner asked, watching but barely seeing Champ chase a chicken out of the barn. “Or are you afraid I might actually be able to do something out here if I’m given a real chance?”
“As if you, of all people, could do anything, Con.”
“Then, what’s your hurry?”
“It’s all dollars and cents. Nothing personal, of course.”
Like hell it was nothing personal. It had always been personal with his uncles. Stephen was getting nervous because Conner had actually stayed and was trying to make a success of the ranch. “When does it go on the market?” he asked.
“We’re supposed to sign the listing agreement next week.”
“How much are you asking?”
“We haven’t decided yet. The Realtor is still gathering some comparables. But if I have my say, we’ll price it to move fast.”
Conner stared around him at the animals and the tack and the hay, breathed in the smell he’d once found so unpleasant, and felt sick inside. His grandfather had no confidence in him, after all. He’d known that in the beginning, but somehow he’d started to believe…It didn’t matter what he believed. Clive was going to sell out. He was staring at the truth now, and when word of Delaney’s pregnancy spread, his uncles would have even more fuel to use against him.
He’d known better than to try. He’d known Stephen and his other uncles would band together and win in the end. How could he ever compensate for their vast resources and unity? Remembering all the beatings they’d given him growing up, the fighting he’d done just to establish some kind of equilibrium and the futility of his resistance, he wondered why he’d ever tried to change. They’d boxed him out from the beginning. They would always box him out.
FROM HER BEDROOM, Delaney heard the men come in, noted Conner’s voice among the others, and felt the tension in her body increase. She’d spent all day figuring out the kitchen and the house, had made a big meal of mashed potatoes and gravy, pot roast, candied carrots, spinach soufflé and Lula’s homemade rolls, had visited the barn, fed the dogs, gathered the eggs from the chicken coop and taken an inventory of the cellar. She’d even baked a couple of pies. Overall, it had been a good day. She’d managed to get a lot done despite her morning sickness, and didn’t mind the work. The ranch had a pleasant, homey atmosphere that felt as inviting as a toasty log cabin. But she hated feeling so unsettled about her future. She needed to talk to Conner, and she couldn’t let him put her off much longer. After dinner…