My Child, Our Child (Silhouette Special Edition)

by Hagan, Patricia

  “Well, that’s in your favor,” she acknowledged. “But you can tell your friends they won’t be hunting on this land anymore.”

  Their eyes met and held in challenge, and finally Sam was the first to speak, ice dripping from his tone. “Well, first we’ve got to make sure it is your land, and then you can start making rules. Till then, I advise you to tread lightly. The locals don’t take kindly to newcomers trying to change their ways.”

  Frost was also in her voice as she fired back, hands on her hips, “Well, they’d better get use to it where I’m concerned, Sam Colton, because, like it or not, I’m here to stay.”

  He gave her a long look, then smiled to say, “I take back what I said about you not making it through the first winter.”

  She felt a rush of satisfaction to think she had been able to change his mind about her so fast, but the feeling quickly faded at his next words.

  “You won’t make it till Christmas.”

  Sam spun gravel, backing out of the driveway and felt foolish afterward. That’s what a kid would do, and he was no kid. He knew about life and farming and Christmas trees, and most of all, he knew about selfish, headstrong women like Jackie Lundigan.

  No matter that she was cuter than a speckled pup and had green eyes as big as saucers and hair the color of the September sun over the Blue Ridge on an autumn afternoon. And maybe he had felt a stirring at how her high, round bottom filled out her tight jeans and the way her breasts pushed at the T-shirt she was wearing. None of that mattered. She was a city girl, a flatlander, and she had no business here. Besides, he had enough problems without having to deal with her.

  The family hadn’t liked it one little bit that his uncle Roy had left his share of the farm to Libby Pratt. But at least she had kept her distance, never trying to interfere with any of the operations. She had taken the money she was sent and never asked questions. Sam knew it would have been really easy to cheat her, but his family took pride in being honest. She had always got what she had coming to her. They had been fair, so, dammit, why couldn’t she have seen the fairness in giving the land back when she died? What right did she have to leave it to someone who wasn’t even her kin, for Pete’s sake?

  And who was this Jackie Lundigan, anyway, and how did she wind up being Libby Pratt’s heir?

  .He drove back to the house, took the front porch steps two at a time, hurried to his office and snatched up the phone. He dialed the number on the card, and on the second ring a woman answered to crisply announce, “Mr. Burkhalter’s office.”

  At first she said he was unavailable, but Sam persisted. Finally she put him through, and Mr. Burkhalter politely confirmed that yes, Jackie Lundigan was the new owner of the property formerly held by Miss Libby Pratt, and if Sam needed written proof, it would be no problem.

  “Okay, okay, I believe you,” Sam said, hating to admit it. “But none of this makes any sense. Libby Pratt had no family, and mine—before they died out—figured she was only hanging on to the land for sentimental reasons. We always thought—hoped—she had made provisions to turn it back over to us when she passed away rather than leave it to strangers.”

  “Ms. Lundigan was hardly a stranger to Miss Pratt. She was quite fond of her. Every time I visited her at the nursing home, she talked about how good she was to her...how she was the granddaughter she never had.”

  Something clicked, and Sam cried, “Wait a minute. You’re saying Miss Pratt was in a nursing home?”

  “Yes. Unfortunately she was in an accident right after she retired. Such a shame. She had so many plans.”

  “So she met Jackie Lundigan in the nursing home?”

  “That’s right. She was the dietician there. They became very close.”

  “So it would seem,” Sam said under his breath, then, edgily, concluded, “well, I guess there’s nothing to be done.”

  “Except that you two will hopefully become good friends,” Mr. Burkhalter said cheerfully. “Jackie is really a nice lady, and she’s so enthusiastic about making a new life up there in those beautiful mountains. I’m sure once you get to know her, the two of you will get along splendidly.

  “Now then,” he added in a rush, “I’ve got to get to court, but I’ll have my secretary send you some documents to put your mind at ease.”

  “No, that’s all right. I’m sure everything is legal. Thank you for your time.”

  Sam hung up and clenched the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white.

  So that’s how it was.

  Another female who couldn’t be trusted.

  Thinking how Jackie Lundigan had cozied up to an old lady, to get her to leave her everything she had, turned his stomach. And feeling as he did, how the hell was he going to be able to accept her as a business partner?

  And what was her motive, anyway? Why had she left the excitement and convenience of the city to move to the rugged mountains and bad winter weather? Why hadn’t she just stayed where she was and collected her share of the money like Libby Pratt had done?

  There was something strange about her, and he intended to find out what it was.

  He also intended to try his best to get rid of her.

  In town the first person Sam ran into was Deputy Earl Whaley.

  “Did that woman find you, that was looking for your farm last night?”

  It was a small town, and soon it would be all over that Libby Pratt’s heir had arrived. And the thing was, his family had kept it a secret all these years that Roy had left his share to her. The locals would have a field day with this juicy tidbit, for sure, but they weren’t going to hear anything from him.

  “Yeah, she did,” he said, starting to move on by. He was heading for the hardware store to buy more rope. When tree harvest began in a few weeks, he would need plenty for bundling. Tom Haskins, the owner, always ordered a mammoth order just for him.

  “She acted a little strange,” Earl said, scratching his chin to think about it. “I helped her out. Showed her to a motel here. What was funny, though, was how she was up there with a map and said she was checking on things for the owner.”

  Sam was about to push the door to the hardware store open but froze. “She said what?”

  Earl repeated himself, then added, “She also gave the impression that she had thought the owner was a woman, and she was checking on things for her.”

  Sam uttered an oath and pushed on inside. Exactly what was she up to, talking like Libby Pratt was still alive?

  “She’s a pretty thing,” Earl called after him. “I wish she’d been looking for my land.”

  Earl’s laugh grated on his ears, and Sam went inside. He was cursing himself up and down for letting things go this far. Years ago, when his father died, he had thought about going to see Libby to get her to sell him her portion. Since she hadn’t done anything with it in over fifty years, he thought there might be a chance she’d be willing to give it up, seeing as how she was getting on up there herself. But he had never got around to it, because things started going sour with Donna along about then.

  “Sam Colton. You’re just the man I want to see.”

  Sam was almost at the counter when he heard Willa Kearney as she came in the door after him.

  He groaned inwardly. All gossip eventually passed through the Book Nook, and Willa took it upon herself to see that it spread beyond.

  “There was a young woman in the store yesterday with an old map of your land. Seemed surprised when Eddie told her you owned the whole thing. She gave him the impression she thought you didn’t.”

  She could only mean Eddie Parks, who carried tales worse than Willa because he covered more territory working his magazine route. “What kind of old map?”

  “An old one apparently. It showed the part your Uncle Roy would’ve got if he’d lived. Everybody knows it was divided up that way, once upon a time. I remember clear as a bell.” A nostalgic expression took over her wrinkled face. “Your great-grandaddy came into my pa’s store, proud as punch because he’d had a map pr
ofessionally drawn by a real surveyor. I was only around ten at the time. I heard him tell my pa how he had cut the land in two for his boys.

  “But that was before he died,” she added with sadness, “and before the war took your great-uncle.”

  “I know.” Sam tried not to sound impatient. He had heard the story all his life. His great-grandfather had been willing to divide the land between his sons before he died, all right, but had probably rolled over in his grave if he knew what Roy had done with his share.

  Willa persisted. “So who was that woman, and where did she get that old map?”

  Sam did not like lying and made it a habit not to, but until he had a chance to persuade Jackie Lundigan into selling him her share, he did not want word to spread.

  “I have no idea,” he fibbed. “But I’ll let you know if I see her.”

  “Well, she headed out that way right after Eddie pointed the way. You didn’t see her? That’s strange.”

  Mercifully, Tom came out of the storage room to see Sam and tell him his rope had arrived. “Don’t think you can get the whole order in your truck at one time, though.”

  Sam was able to smile, despite feeling so low. “Haven’t been able to in twelve years, Tom. No need to think I can now. I’ll just have to make several trips during the next week.”

  Willa was leaning against the counter, tapping a finger to her nose as though in deep thought. “Maybe you ought to look off the mountain on them sharp curves, Sam. She could’ve run off, not being used to driving around here.”

  Tom looked from one to the other. “Who ran off the road? Who are y’all talking about?”

  Sam hurriedly gathered up the bundles of rope.

  When he didn’t answer Tom’s questions, Willa did not hesitate to do so herself. “Some woman was looking for Sam yesterday—or for his farm, that is. She had a real old map. I think it was a copy of the one Ben Colton had made up back in the forties.”

  “I’ll take this on out,” Sam called over his shoulder, heading for the door and leaving them to speculate about the strange woman who had come to town.

  When he was gone, Tom leaned across the counter, interest piqued, to ask Willa, “What’s this all about? Sam acted like he was worried about something.”

  Willa likewise leaned closer. “If you ask me, I think he’s already come upon that woman, and something happened that’s got him upset. I know Sam. Known him all his life. And I can tell when something’s got him stirred.”

  “So what do you suppose?” Tom scowled. “You don’t suppose it’s got anything to do with Donna, do you? I tell you, that woman should be ashamed of what she did to him.”

  “True. But he’s better off without her, especially when she turned out the way she did. If he’s smart, he’ll marry one of his own kind next time and not some city girl who’ll never get used to living here. That was Donna’s problem, that and the fact she had the morals of an alley cat.”

  Tom made a clucking sound and wagged his finger. “Now, now, Willa. We don’t know the whole story about what happened there.”

  Willa snorted. “I know all I need to. She was a little tramp, that’s what, and now I’m wondering about this one looking for him yesterday. Maybe she’s a friend of Donna’s, come to see if she can get some money out of him.”

  Willa turned so she could watch Sam through the window as he loaded the rope onto the back of his truck.

  “I’ll tell you one thing, though,” she said, almost angrily, “I’ll do everything I can to keep the same thing from happening again. So if that little gal yesterday is up to no good, I hope she kept right on going.”

  Sam came back in for the rest of the rope.

  Willa boldly asked, “So how do you think she got her hands on that old map, Sam?”

  “I have no idea,” he responded woodenly.

  “If I run into her, I’ll see if I can find out.”

  Sam did not respond as he picked up the rope and hurried to get out of there. Willa would, he knew, eventually find out how Jackie Lundigan came in possession of the map to his great-uncle’s land.

  But he intended to find out much more—like how she was able to get Libby Pratt to will it to her.

  Chapter Five

  Nearly a week had passed since Jackie had the encounter with Sam Colton, and she had seen nothing of him since. It suited her just fine. She was busy fixing up the cabin to her tastes, as well as familiarizing herself with the woods immediately around her.

  The trees around her were not very tall. Maybe three feet. She still enjoyed walking in the rows between. The smell was exhilarating, but then, so was everything around her. She loved the sunrises, the sunsets, and the beautiful day in between.

  So far, she had seen nothing to be afraid of. There was no lock on the front door, however, and she resolved the next time she went into town she would buy one and try to install it herself.

  And she would need to go into town soon, she thought that morning as she walked around the little clearing that was her yard. She was nearly out of staples, and she needed a few art supplies. She also wanted to ask the location of the nearest nursing home so she could start visiting. Sadly there were always residents who either had no family or whose relatives were too far away to come often.

  She had gathered apples from the trees beside the cabin and, after ruining a few pies as she learned to operate the old stove, had finally produced what she thought was worthy of a county fair blue ribbon.

  Smelling deliciously of butter and cinnamon, she placed it on the kitchen windowsill to cool, then went outside to sit on the lawn and look for four-leaf clovers.

  With the azure sky a canopy above and plump, fat clouds drifting overhead to provide shade now and then from the warm autumn sun, Jackie acknowledged that even though she was enjoying herself, it would soon be time to get serious. She had heard chain saws buzzing in the distance the day before and knew the Christmas tree harvesting had begun. She wanted to see it, be a part of it, and that meant contacting Sam Colton and she wasn’t sure how to go about it. She hated to just boldly walk right up and knock on his front door and inform him she was there to start working with him. But she saw no other way.

  Actually, she thought it rude and very unneighborly that he hadn’t been back to see her. He would have called Mr. Burkhalter by now, of course, so he knew she was telling the truth about everything. So why hadn’t he returned? After all, whether he liked it or not, they were now business partners, and they were going to have to communicate with each other.

  A movement among the brush at the edge of the forest caught her eye.

  She sat up straight, invisible tendrils of fear twining about her body. She knew enough about nature to fear it might be a bear, searching for mast to stoke his—or her—big body with fuel for the long hibernating months ahead when winter arrived. The nights had been very cool lately, and she’d had to dig a blanket out of a trunk, but it was still too warm to cause the animals to bed down for the season, so she was quite wary.

  Bears, she had heard, could get up to speeds of nearly thirty-five miles an hour in an open field, but this was no open field. Still, she would have to sprint to make it to the cabin in time. And then what?

  “Stop it, you wimp,” she said out loud. “Or you’re going to make Sam Colton’s prediction come true.”

  At that, the leaves moved again, and she thought she caught a glimpse of red.

  Bears weren’t red.

  A fox?

  But it was too bright for a fox.

  Now the tendrils of fear tightened as she realized it might be a two-legged animal out there...a man.

  Slowly she got to her feet, pretending to be oblivious to anything around her. She began sauntering slowly toward the cabin, looking down at the ground as though still in search of four-leaf clovers. But her heart was pounding like crazy, and she resolved, then and there, that when she went into town she would buy a gun. Out here in the wilderness and all alone, like it or not, she needed protection. Sad, but
that was the reality in the world we live in, she thought, inching her way along, waiting for the right second to break and run.

  She would sling a chair in front of the door, then run to the kitchen for a knife and scream her head off, and...

  She froze.

  The bushes were no longer rustling behind her, but beside her instead, and she laughed to see a brilliant red cardinal perched on a limb nearby.

  “So you’re the red monster I saw creeping in the woods,” she said to him, feeling a bit foolish to have allowed herself to be so scared. She had to get over that. She could not, by golly, panic at each little sound. After all, the woods were full of noises if one only listened.

  The cardinal cocked his head and stared at her, probably bemused over having a human speak to him for the first time in his life. As though deciding the experience too unnerving, he flew away.

  “So much for your company,” Jackie said, continuing on to the cabin. Maybe she should buy a bird feeder when she went to town.

  Suddenly, going into town seemed a major priority. There was so much she needed, and it was time to get busy and stop playing nature girl.

  Right then, however, she wanted a slice of the apple pie while it was still warm, and a cup of the delicious coffee she had brewed earlier in the old blue enamel pot.

  The coffee was still warm. She wished for fresh cream but had not thought to buy any and had to use the powdered kind instead.

  Picking up a slicing knife, she started for the windowsill. “And now to taste a real apple pie—What?” She gasped.

  The sill was empty.

  The pie was gone.

  “I don’t believe this. Pesky raccoons.” She set the knife aside and marched to the front door, down the steps, and around the corner. They had raided the garbage can two nights before, and while she enjoyed watching them from the glow of the back porch light, she had made it a point to leave all trash inside till time to take it into town for disposal.

  Stealing a pie, however, was beyond the limits of her tolerance for cute wildlife. She had worked hard, and besides, they weren’t supposed to be out during daylight hours, anyway.