The Legacy (Homestead Legacy Book Book 2)

by Alex Jane

  "Just here to offer my services." Baskin opened his arms in what he must have imagined was a friendly display.

  Emmanuel couldn't stop his lips from quirking up at one corner. "That's very kind of you," he said, squinting into the sunlight a little and wishing he had put on his hat. "I could do with an extra pair of hands mucking out the stable if you're available."

  For a moment, Baskin didn't seem entirely sure whether or not he was joking, but eventually laughed enough to be polite. "Not exactly the kind of help I had in mind," he said, taking a step forward and gesturing with his finger. "But if you need a little help around the place, I might be able to accommodate you. Or at least provide the means to help yourself."

  The speech sounded practiced and slick enough Emmanuel had to resist the urge to go wash his hands. "That's very kind of you," he said. "But I think I should be able to manage for the foreseeable future."

  "Well, I know this was your granddaddy's place, but being a city boy I thought I would make myself available to be of assistance should farming turn out to be not quite what you had expected." He paused, clearly anticipating that Emmanuel would fill the dead air with a plea for clarity as to what he could possibly mean. When the prompt didn't come and Emmanuel simply nodded as if he was listening, Baskin placed one hand on his hip and tapped the other leg with his hat. "Yup, times have definitely changed. I mean now we can offer a Federally approved loan so you could buy more land and equipment for harvesting. These are exciting times."

  "Not sure the Shearings would agree with you there, Wally." Seth appeared around the side of the house, walking slow and deliberate. He only got as far as the front door before he leaned back against the frame. "Exciting times is hardly how I'd describe foreclosing on his property."

  "He knew the conditions of the loan, Mason," Baskin said, looking more annoyed than surprised to see Seth. "He signed the papers. If he couldn't keep up, he should have come to me before he got in that mess."

  "Read the papers?" Seth scoffed. "The man couldn't read his own name to save his life. Or his farm it seems."

  "We gonna keep going over this?" Baskin asked. "Because I'll tell you now what I told you then. I don't—"

  "Make the rules," Seth parroted along with him. "Yeah, I heard that before. But you sure as hell enforce them to the letter, don't you?"

  Baskin sighed and shook his head, looking over at Seth with something like pity on his face. "I'm just doing my job."

  "Well, go do it someplace else, for god's sake. Manny doesn't need your help."

  Emmanuel turned slightly to glare at his cousin over his shoulder, only to have him hold up his hands and slink away again. Shaking his head, Emmanuel turned back to his visitor. "I appreciate you stopping by, but I think I'm doing all right about now."

  "If you don't mind me asking," Baskin said, and Emmanuel immediately knew he would, "you have an income or means to make one? Because this land has been left fallow a long time and you'll have no crops come winter."

  The way the man was talking, Emmanuel was tempted to ask him whether he knew anything about him or his family, if Baskin thought his grandparents were dirt farmers by necessity not one step down from royalty on the east coast. But he'd heard the "don't you know who I am" speech from the other side and he wasn’t going to stoop to it. Luckily, he didn't need to when he heard a whinny from down by the stables and turned to see Asher leading the mare back to her stall.

  "I'm leasing the stable," he said. "Plus, I have a little money set aside. I think I'll be all right. But thank you for the offer of help. I'll keep it in mind."

  Baskin grumbled and huffed, looking angrily toward the stables before muttering something that sounded like, "Should have known your kind would stick together."

  Emmanuel blinked, shifting his stance slightly. "And what kind would that be, Mr. Baskin?"

  Give him his due, Baskin didn't flinch, only looked up with a pasted-on smile and said, "Family. It's good to know you have family to help you through."

  "Yes. It is."

  Emmanuel wondered for a second if he would have to say anything else to get the man to leave, but Baskin only said, "Thanks for your time. See you in town I expect," before getting back behind the wheel of his car and turning the ignition.

  By the time the machine was kicking up a cloud of dust on its way back up to the ridge, Asher was walking up to stand at Emmanuel's shoulder. The two men watched the banker go before Asher asked, "What did he want?"

  "Not sure," Emmanuel replied quietly. "He said he wanted to offer a helping hand but I think he wanted to get a look at the place."

  "Stay away from him, Manny." Asher's voice was commanding, right up until Emmanuel raised an eyebrow at his tone. "All I mean is, he's not someone you want to be doing business with."

  "Really? And he speaks so highly of you. He was thrilled you were here, by the way."

  Asher chuckled. "I bet."

  As Asher turned to walk to the house, Emmanuel caught his arm. "Hey, is it true Arthur Shearing lost his farm?" It was hard to imagine Lastford without him in the community. The family weren't one of the founding settlers but it always seemed as if there had been Shearings as long as there had been Jacksons.

  "I wouldn't say lost but yeah."

  "God," Emmanuel murmured. "What are they doing now? Did Art move the family to town or…?"

  The sigh Asher let out made Emmanuel wish he hadn't asked. And when Asher said, "His wife ran off when things got tough. He shot himself in the end. Couldn't live with the shame, I guess. I don't know where the girls are," it proved him right in the worst way.

  Chapter Five

  "She's so small," Emmanuel said, peering over Violet's shoulder, looking down at the squirming pink bundle in her arms.

  Violet made a sound halfway between a laugh and a cry and shook her head. "Easy for you to say. You didn't have to birth her," she muttered. "It's a good thing she's so beautiful."

  "She truly is, Vi." Emmanuel leaned down and placed a kiss to Violet's temple.

  "You should hurry up and get a few of these yourself, Manny," Duke said from across the room where he was leaning up against the mantle. He was dressed in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat, although his collar was unbuttoned, and looked almost as tired as Violet after running around after their boys for the last few days as well as tending to his wife. It wasn't as if they couldn't afford to get help in, but Duke took his role as husband and father fairly seriously and was more comfortable delegating his business duties than his marital ones. "Having a family of your own will only change your life for the better."

  Emmanuel wanted to laugh. Duke was huge and imposing but melted like butter under Violet's attention, doting on her and their children and couldn't conceive of anyone not wanting a wife or houseful of offspring. He never failed to bring up the fact Emmanuel still a bachelor. It was almost as if he had a duty to marry Emmanuel off before he turned into an old maid.

  "Oh, I think Manny might be thinking about settling down, finally," Otis said, winking at his brother-in-law before beaming over at Emmanuel from his position by the fireplace.

  It was lucky for him that there was a whole sitting room between them, and a newborn in the room, otherwise Emmanuel would have been tempted to smack Otis over the head.

  And of course, the fact his parents were with them was as good a reason as any to behave. His mother might not be the Alpha, but she would have no qualms about putting him over her knee even though he was a grown man.

  "What's this?" Emmanuel's father piped up, even though he didn't raise his gaze from the book in his hand. He was never one to miss much no matter how much Emmanuel hoped he would.

  "Don't get excited," he said, coming to sit on one of the comfortable couches next to his pa. "Although we should have a new arrival on the homestead imminently."

  "Alpha Franklin's horse is going to foal soon?" his mother enquired as she drifted back into the room carrying a tray filled with tea and dainty cups and a plate of sandwiches. When she p
laced the tray on the table, his father got up, kissed her on the cheek, and started to pour for everybody.

  Emmanuel glared over at Otis. "You told them?"

  "Don't be ridiculous," his mother scoffed as she adjusted her skirts, dropped down to the seat next to him, and took his hand. "Trying to get you boys to tattle on each other didn't work when you were five years old so I doubt it would work now. Ephraim told me, if you want someone to blame."

  "It's not a case of blame," Emmanuel grumbled, but she patted his hand a couple of times—which he imagined she must think was reassuring but definitely wasn't—before letting him go when his father passed her a cup giving Emmanuel the chance to go on. "Anyway. Yes, according to Ephraim. He said it shouldn't be more than a week so with any luck she'll be there when you come to stay."

  Otis frowned over at him. "You think it's a girl then?"

  Emmanuel smirked. "Asher has a feeling apparently. I've been ensuring to make fun of him over it in your absence, don't worry."

  Otis smiled, looking very pleased to hear that. "He's going to give you hell if he turns out to be right."

  "He's got a fifty-fifty chance. It would hardly be witchcraft. Anyway, I don't want to talk about Asher," Emmanuel said, hoping that he could change the subject without anyone noticing anything odd. "Have you thought of a name yet?"

  "It's not so much a problem with finding a name," Violet said as she passed off the baby to her husband, sliding the tiny bundle into his huge muscular arms. "It's more that we have had so much time to think about it, we have too many to choose from."

  "I still like Rose the best," Emmanuel's mother said as she sipped her tea. "Your mother loved the garden so much I think she would like that a lot."

  "She almost called me Rose," Violet mused.

  Emmanuel's mother smiled. "I remember." But then she caught the look on Duke's face. "I'm guessing this one has an objection?"

  Duke laughed and looked a little embarrassed. "I like it. It's just…well, when I was a boy, the family cow was called Rose and I just can't shake the association."

  Emmanuel was glad he wasn't the only one who burst out laughing, and it only made things worse when Violet said, full of indignation, "You told me you loved that cow." Unfortunately, the loud noise, even though it was one of happiness, disturbed the baby enough that she started to cry, a choked-off mewling screech that was wholly unpleasant. Violet sighed and put down her cup. "She's due to eat," she said and eased herself out of the chair with only a little difficultly. "I'll take her off, if you don't mind."

  Somehow, with Duke insisting on accompanying his wife, and Otis being drafted into going to check on the boys, Emmanuel and his parents were left in the parlor, alone for the first time since they had arrived a few days before.

  Immediately, his mother shifted in her seat, twisting to face him directly. "So, tell me. How are you really?"

  Emmanuel chuckled and resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead taking her hand and shaking it a little as he said, "I'm fine, really. I'm doing much better, I think. The quiet suits me and it's not as if I'm in a strange place."

  "I know, I know," she muttered, tears welling in her eyes before she willed them away. It was a conversation they had had ad nauseum before he had left New York and come to Nebraska. He knew his choice had been difficult for her, being torn between her role as a physician—knowing the course of action he was taking would probably be the best for his health—and being his mother who only wanted to keep him close and safe. In the first weeks when he had returned from Europe, it wasn't unusual to find her sleeping in the chair at his bedside from time to time even though he was hardly an invalid.

  "And it's not as if I am completely alone," Emmanuel reassured her.

  "So we've gathered," his father said softly with a wry smile. "Sounds to me as if the Franklin boy has practically moved in."

  "I meant that I see Ephraim and Joshua every day," Emmanuel blustered. "And he certainly hasn't, thank you very much. I barely see him at all."

  His father's smile grew wider. "Oh, really. The amount you speak of him, I would have thought the two of you were hardly apart."

  Emmanuel's mother reached over and slapped her husband on the knee. "Stop teasing him, Joe," she said before turning her attention back to Emmanuel. "Are you sure you are comfortable with Asher being around you so often? Ephraim said there might be some animosity between the two of you?"

  Emmanuel sighed and sat back. "No," he said, drawing out the word as he tried to think through how to frame his thoughts. "When we were younger, he was… I don't know, he seems different now. Softened, perhaps. At least he seems to tolerate me much better. It's difficult not to afford him the same courtesy."

  "Ephraim said he tormented you when you were boys, is that true?" his mother asked seriously. Reluctantly Emmanuel nodded and she tsked and looked away briefly before asking, "Why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you say anything?"

  "What was there to say?" Emmanuel said with a slight smile. "It was nothing I hadn't heard before. And besides, I didn't want to get Papa Jacob into trouble with Asher's father."

  "You silly goose," his mother said, leaning forward and drawing him into her arms as if he were a child again, not a man who dwarfed her. "I can imagine exactly the kind of thing Asher would say to you. I've heard pretty much the same thing come from his father's lips, so no doubt he was parroting the kinds of nonsense he would hear at home. He was a nice boy. I felt rather sorry for him, truth be told. You know his father wasn't your grandfather's friend exactly. Pa only did business with him out of necessity. And he would've stopped immediately had he known you were being made to feel so unhappy."

  In a way, Emmanuel had always believed that so it wasn't exactly news to him. But in essence it was the reason why he had never said a word, not wanting to be the cause for any bad feeling between two packs who were reliant on each other for survival at times. "I know," he said. "But that's water under the bridge now. Alpha Franklin and I get along just fine. I know he feels badly for the way he treated me, but we've made a fresh start."

  Emmanuel didn't think he had said anything to warrant the harrumph his father made, and he looked over at him with his eyebrows raised in anticipation of an explanation. His father mimicked his expression and the two of them stared at each other, until his father finally asked, "Just how fresh is this fresh start?"

  Emmanuel frowned. "I don't know what you—?"

  "Don't be coy, son. It seems fairly obvious from the way you speak of him that you have some affection for the man."

  Emmanuel was dumbstruck for a moment. He tried to speak, but as much as his mouth worked, his throat didn't want to make anything other than vague noises and squeaks, before finally blurting out, "I don't know what you mean."

  His father rolled his eyes and then looked to his wife and sighed. "He doesn't know what I mean."

  "Oh hush, Joe," she said, shaking her head, although she seemed to find some humor in Emmanuel's discomfort. She hid her amusement well, though, patting his hand and looking sympathetic. "You're quite right to take your time over these things."

  She barreled on without stopping after Emmanuel said, "What things?"

  "I think it's admirable you two have been able to find some friendship, but you should concentrate on finding some peace for yourself before rushing into anything."

  Still not entirely comfortable with talking about any of this with his parents, Emmanuel took the path of least resistance and simply nodded and said, "Yes. Yes, of course."

  The platitude seemed to do the job, and he was grateful when his father decided to change the subject. "Have you been writing at all?" he asked, looking hopeful. It was the one subject they found easy to talk about. Emmanuel had plenty in common with his father, but their love for words and storytelling was a point of commonality that would have them talking for hours and with more enthusiasm than his mother could bear, begging them both to not be so dull over dinner or to please come to bed as it was the small hours of
the morning.

  "Not yet," he said, looking down at his cup. "I think…I have an idea. Perhaps."

  "Oh?" His father was never one to push.

  "Yes." Emmanuel cleared his throat. "A story. About a soldier."

  The room was dead quiet for a second before his father asked, "About your experiences?"

  Emmanuel sighed deeply. "Yes and no? It would be fictional but…well, my experiences and what I heard from others would be relevant."

  His parents looked at each other, communicating silently as only two people who'd known each other since childhood could do, before his mother asked, "I thought you were bound to secrecy. That you couldn't talk about it"

  "The war's over, Ma. Besides, like I said. It would be fiction."

  "You sure you want to—" His father grimaced before going on. "You really think bringing it all back up is a good idea."

  Emmanuel smiled and was pleasantly surprised he didn't have to force the reaction. "Better out than in, right?"

  His father looked sad but still nodded. "I guess I can't argue with that."

  When his mother took his hand again, he expected more of the same from her, especially as her eyes were wet with tears, but as always she surprised him by tugging him closer and saying brightly, "Before I forget, Henry asked me to pass on some news. Although I think gossip might be the more accurate term."

  Once he was home, the next few days were much as they had been before Emmanuel had gone to Plum Creek to visit with the new baby. Except, of course, they weren't exactly as they had been before. After the candid conversation with his parents, Emmanuel's mind was a fog of intrusive questions, having very much taken to heart what they had implied. As much as he might try, he found it hard to shake their insinuations from his thoughts.

  He had never denied to himself, or anyone else, the fact that Asher was a very handsome man. To do so would have been sheer madness even if it wasn't solely his aesthetic appreciation that was stirred by Asher’s beautiful features and powerful body.