Inherit A Dream (Sons Of A Gun Book 4)

by Brenda Sinclair

  Mr. Watson sat in silence, the fingers on one hand now tapping out a rhythm on the chair arm. Violet waited for his reply. What could possibly be the delay? Was he calculating a suitable amount in his head? She’d done exactly that over the past few days. Perhaps she should pull the papers from her reticule and show the banker her own estimate.

  “Is there a problem?” Violet ventured, an uneasy feeling sweeping over her. Mr. Watson’s decision to lend funds to her brother to set up his veterinarian practice must have been instantaneous considering his rush to catch the stagecoach. Why was the manager being so hesitant in this instance?

  “Actually, there is.” Mr. Watson met her eyes.

  Violet felt her jaw drop. “Pardon me?”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Campbell.” The bank manager shrugged. “I cannot possibly lend you any funds at all.”

  Chapter 4

  Simon stood on the boardwalk outside Amanda’s Clothing Emporium. On his pa’s instructions, he’d dropped by his sister’s store to check on her. Of course, she couldn’t be better. Her business continued to flourish and she seemed deliriously happy being married to her sheriff, Sawyer Manning. Simon still tripped over his tongue on occasion when introducing his sister to people, remembering she was now Amanda Manning.

  Earlier this morning, Simon caught a glimpse of Roland Campbell climbing into the stagecoach. Moments later, he’d waved to his friend as the rig drove by, heading out of town. His lifelong friend was returning to the School of Veterinary Medicine to complete his training. Milestone needed a veterinarian in the worst way and the sooner Roland returned the better.

  He glanced to his left and his heart skipped a beat. Violet had exited the bank and she almost stumbled as she descended the steps to the boardwalk.

  “Violet,” he called, waving.

  She turned to her left and continued down the sidewalk, swaying slightly on her feet as she made her way toward her family’s buggy a short ways up the street. She must not have heard him.

  “Violet!” he shouted somewhat louder and hurried toward her. He wanted to spend a few minutes talking with her before she headed off home or onward to her next engagement.

  She untied the reins but he reached her side before she could climb into the rig. “Violet, did you not hear me calling your name?” He touched her arm and turned her toward him.

  Huge tears streamed down her face.

  “What happened?”

  She shook her head and turned away from him. “Don’t be concerned. I’m fine,” she muttered.

  “I’d say you’re anything but fine.” She might be missing her brother, but he doubted she’d be this upset about him returning to school. Mind you, Roland had mentioned limited funds would remain for ranch use. Had she discovered a disturbing balance in her account? Was she concerned about dwindling finances? Should he offer to buy her ranch again? He took her arm and gently turned her around. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing for you to concern yourself about.” She yanked her arm out of his grasp and climbed into the buggy, flopping onto the seat. “Please leave me alone.”

  Simon stood on the sidewalk, open-mouthed and confused, as she flicked the reins and steered the buggy in the opposite direction, most likely intending to return home. What could have caused such an unusual reaction in Violet? The normally friendly and outgoing girl must have received disturbing news of some sort to generate such a rude response to his inquiries. Or she’d encountered an unpleasant person and there’d been a troubling exchange of words. Something had caused a jovial person like Violet to appear in tears in public. Normally, Violet would rather saunter down Main Street in her nightdress than allow anyone, even family or friends, to witness her crying.

  Simon turned his attention to the bank. The solid brick building represented the town’s commerce and almost everyone in Milestone utilized its services, especially with a competent manager like Harold Watson in charge. Could Violet have experienced an unsettling exchange with Harold? Had there been a discussion of her financial situation that disturbed her? If she’d been unhappy with the outcome of a meeting between the two of them, that would account for the tears. Surely, she could explain to the banker that she had a buyer. Simon couldn’t fathom an honest, fair-minded fellow like Harold upsetting one of his customers for no reason.

  A more troubling thought entered his mind, and his stomach churned while bile threatened to rise into his throat. Had the bank owners in Butte given Violet a foreclosure notice? Had Harold demanded she vacate her home?

  Simon strode into the bank, determined to get to the bottom of this. He wouldn’t have people causing the woman he loved so much emotional pain. Milton Brown stood mouth agape and speechless as Simon stormed past him, waving off any thought of inquiring what his business might be. Simon stepped toward the manager’s office and rapped on the doorjamb. He peeked inside. “Harold, might I have a word with you?”

  Mr. Watson’s head whipped up; he’d been staring at the papers strewn about his desk. “Simon, certainly. Come in.” He quickly scooped the ledger sheets into a tidy pile and stood, extending his hand to Simon.

  “I apologize for storming in here without any warning, but I encountered Violet Campbell on the street outside the bank. She was crying and appeared quite upset.” Simon settled on the chair across from the bank manager.

  “Yes, we met a few minutes ago.” The manager seated himself.

  “I doubt you can provide me with details of another customer’s affairs, but could you share the reason for her tears?” Simon leaned forward, arms resting on his thighs.

  “Violet had her heart set on something that isn’t possible,” the manager offered, cryptically.

  “You mean she wanted a loan to carry on the operation of her father’s ranch,” Simon wagered a guess.

  Harold shrugged, but his expression hinted that Simon had been right in his thinking.

  “And you turned her down?”

  “If she asked for a loan, and I’m not saying she did since that would be confidential information… But if she had, I wouldn’t have any choice in the matter. It’s not the bank’s policy to loan funds to a woman. Any woman. And while I don’t doubt for a minute with the proper financial backing, Violet would be more than capable of handling the affairs of the family ranch, I cannot make an exception for anyone. The bank owners in Butte wouldn’t allow it.”

  “There must be a way around this. I’ve offered to buy the ranch, and Roland seemed quite agreeable to my solution to their situation. The proceeds would be shared by both of them, freeing Violet from destitution and providing Roland with the funds to start up his veterinary practice when he graduates.” Simon scrubbed his face with one hand. “Violet, however, wouldn’t hear a word of it.”

  “She’s determined to respect her father’s dream. Finalize payment of the ranch and carry on his legacy.” Harold shook his head. “Too bad that girl wasn’t born male. She’s one dang good rancher.”

  “That she is. Female or not.” Simon defended the woman he loved. “Being a woman is no reason to yank the ranch out from under her.”

  “I don’t see any way around it,” Harold said, shaking his head.

  “There may be something…”

  “I’m willing to listen to any reasonable alternative.”

  “What if another person signed her loan papers, as well? Supposing, of course, that other person was a man.” Simon searched the manager’s eyes, hoping to see even a hint of hope the fellow might consider the idea. Simon was rewarded with a slight nod of the manager’s head and the beginnings of a smile forming at the corners of his mouth.

  “And who would this supposed other person be? Have you someone in mind?” Harold leaned back in his chair. “Her brother already left town and he informed me in no uncertain terms that he had absolutely no interest in the ranch whatsoever.”

  “I know that. Roland will be setting up his veterinary practice in Milestone when he returns. He’s already enlisted my help with that.”
Simon shifted in his chair. “Actually, the man I had in mind to help Violet is me.”

  “You?”

  “Yes. I’ve offered to buy the ranch and I’m determined to own it one way or another.” Simon felt himself warming under his collar. “That sounded rather heartless but my motives are anything but.”

  “Explain yourself then.”

  “I’ve loved Violet Campbell since the year I started shaving.” Simon smiled as his fingers brushed one clean-shaven cheek. “I intend to ask that girl to marry me one of these days.”

  “Ah,” Mr. Watson said, smiling. “That explains why you’re interested in the success of the Triple C. You intend to marry one of the owners.”

  “I’m going to buy out Roland’s interest when he returns home. We’ve already discussed it.” Simon slid forward in his chair. “But there’s one stipulation I must make.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Under no circumstances will Violet be informed I’m the person who co-signed her loan.” Simon waved off the bank manager when he opened his mouth to offer comment. “I’m serious. If Violet learns that I’m the reason she’s getting the loan, you know she’ll flat out refuse it. Whether she needs it desperately or not.”

  “May I speak now?”

  “Sorry for cutting you off. But I needed to say my piece.”

  “I was about to tell you that your offer to co-sign would definitely work. I wouldn’t hesitate for a moment lending Violet the funds if a McLennon signed the papers, as well.” Mr. Watson stuck out his hand. “Let’s shake on it and I’ll draw up the papers today.”

  Simon shook the fellow’s hand. “Thank you. Violet is more stubborn than a mule in a mudhole, but she’s darn capable of running that ranch. Our land borders hers and I’ll be dropping by to say hello and check up on her more often than she’ll consider tolerable. But if any problems crop up, I’ll be there to lend her a hand in a heartbeat.”

  “She’d die of embarrassment if she failed to repay any monies owed by her or her family.” Mr. Watson smiled. “If everyone possessed her degree of integrity, wouldn’t the world be a better place?”

  “Certainly would be,” Simon agreed. “Draw up the papers. Have Violet sign them. Then I’ll come into the bank in a couple days to add my signature to them. She never needs to learn that I’ve done this for her.”

  “This arrangement borders on slight underhandedness to my way of thinking, but if it’s the only way to help my customer…” Mr. Watson stood, leaving the thought hanging. “I’ll tell Violet I’ve reconsidered her request and I’ve had a change of heart. I’ll ride out to the Triple C, get her signature on the loan papers, and set up accounts for her at the feed store and anywhere else she requires dealings.”

  “Sounds perfect. I’ll be back in town on Friday to put my John Henry on that loan.” Simon shook hands with Harold and settled his Stetson back on his head.

  A moment later, Simon stepped outside and heaved a sigh of relief. He’d done his good deed for the day and helped out the woman he loved. Roland wouldn’t have a problem with Simon stepping in to help his sister, but heaven help him if Violet ever learned what he’d done.

  Chapter 5

  Next morning, as the sun appeared above the horizon, Violet stood at the kitchen window gazing at the perennials poking their heads out of the ground. A month from now, the flowerbed would be ablaze with color. She sipped the cup of coffee she’d brewed herself after letting Moe outside to do his business.

  She gazed around the kitchen, noticing her mother’s favorite yellow painted walls had begun to peel in places. A few planks were warped in the floor and should be replaced. The table and chairs remained sturdy as ever, and the woodstove had been purchased the year before her mother passed. Her mother loved this kitchen and Violet closed her eyes attempting to recall her mother standing at the stove stirring a pot of stew or waiting for her bread to bake. Violet prayed the day would never come that she could no longer conjure up those images in her mind.

  She opened her eyes and took another sip of coffee. She’d worry about the needed repairs to the kitchen another time.

  After returning from Milestone yesterday, she’d put the rig away and brushed the mare, tears streaming down her face and blurring her vision. Somehow, she’d finally managed to complete the job and finish her evening chores. Moe never spent a moment’s time in the house, but he must have sensed how upset she’d been. He’d howled at the back door until she let him inside with her. She hadn’t an appetite for dinner and curled up in the rocking chair in the parlor and indulged herself in a good cry. Later, she completed the final check on the stock in the barn before turning in for the night. Again, Moe refused to remain outside and spent the night curled up on the rug beside her bed. His soft snoring had actually been a comfort, and Violet had managed a least of few hours’ sleep.

  Now in the light of day, the full impact of her problems weighed heavily on her mind. “What on earth am I going to do?” she muttered aloud.

  She poured herself another cup of coffee and flopped onto a kitchen chair. She had barely four dollars to her name and probably a hundred cattle to fatten for market. Too bad fairy godmothers weren’t a real thing, she needed to conjure one up in the worst way.

  Moe’s barking startled her from her musings and she peeked outside to see what bothered him. A rider entered the yard, pausing to tie his horse to a middle rail on the corral fence. He wandered toward the house, his face shaded by a bowler.

  “That’s Harold Watson,” she exclaimed as he moved closer and she caught a glimpse of his face. What was the banker doing here so early in the morning?

  She swallowed hard, concerned he’d come to serve her notice to vacate the property. With no funds of her own and no hope of receiving a loan, she’d be forced to either sell or sit by as the bank executed a foreclosure. Being powerless to prevent either didn’t please her one bit.

  The banker knocked on the front door and turned to gaze toward the east where the sun slowly rose higher in the sky. Violet’s hands fisted as she walked down the hallway to the front entry. Was Mr. Watson inspecting the prime property he was about to repossess? Well, he might as well have a long, leisurely stare since she couldn’t stop him from doing as he pleased with the Triple C. She forced back a sob as she opened the door and stepped outside, meeting eyes with the banker standing on the covered veranda.

  “Good morning, Miss Campbell. How are you?” he greeted her with a smile, removing his bowler as he spoke.

  How did he think she was doing? Knowing she’d be losing the ranch that had meant so much to her father, she couldn’t be more heartbroken. And furious with her brother for taking his money on the way back east. And annoyed with her father for leaving them in such dire straits. Why hadn’t their father put aside an emergency fund for the ranch? No doubt, he hadn’t planned on dying so young, but still, Mama had passed suddenly from influenza. No one was guaranteed any specific number of years on this earth. Her father should have planned for such an eventuality. Unless the atrocious winter had eaten into all of their funds, including those set aside for a rainy day, which could well have happened.

  “Good morning,” she muttered. “I’m doing as well as can be expected, I suppose.”

  “Hope I haven’t come too early, but I’ll be brightening your day for certain,” he stated, smiling still.

  She heaved a sigh. “I doubt that very much.”

  “Could we please talk?”

  Violet nodded. “Come on inside. There’s coffee on the stove.” She opened the door and he preceded her into the entryway. She waved her hand toward the kitchen and when he hesitated, she led the way. “Take a seat at the table and I’ll pour you a cup.”

  “Thank you. That would be much appreciated.” Mr. Watson settled onto a chair and set his bowler on the seat next to him. He pulled some papers out from inside his suit jacket pocket. “I have something here that requires your signature.”

  “Already?” Violet blurted. The bank ow
ners hadn’t wasted any time initiating the foreclosure.

  “Well, the sooner we complete the paperwork on your loan, the better.” Mr. Watson pointed absently in the direction of the barns. “You have starving cattle out there that require feed.”

  Violet almost dropped the coffee pot. Had she heard him correctly? Paperwork on your loan?

  “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. You informed me yesterday that you couldn’t loan me any funds,” she said, meeting his eyes. Her hands shook slightly and she set the coffee pot down before she sloshed hot liquid on herself.

  “Yes, I did. And I apologize for my abrupt and tactless decision. But I reconsidered the matter and I came to the conclusion that I misspoke. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t be loaned the funds to save your animals, and thus provide you the means of making the final payments on your ranch.” Mr. Watson leaned back in the chair. “While our policies are in place for good reason, I’m not a heartless man. I’ve made an exception in regards to your situation.”

  Violet stood gaping at the man, too stunned from what she heard to form a complete sentence in response.

  “As soon as I return to town, I’ll set up an account on your behalf at the feed store in what I’m certain will be a suitable amount for your needs, as part of the proceeds from the loan. You shouldn’t have any problems ordering feed to assist with fattening your cattle for sale.”

  “Th… thank you,” she stammered.

  “I’ll also put money on your family’s account at the Milestone General Store for your own needs. And place funds with the liveryman in case one of your horses requires attention, new shoes and whatnot.” Mr. Watson smiled at her. “As well, I’ll place twenty dollars on an account at Amanda’s Clothing Emporium should you require clothing or the like before you’re able to sell your animals.”