Legacy Read online

  Tim let out a nervous chuckle, remembering what his uncle had said. “No, sir, no she wasn’t,” he replied. His ma was livid when he told her he was ready to take his uncle up on the offer he’d made more than fifteen years ago. The truth was, he’d been ready since his ma received that letter. He loved Dry Bayou, it was his home, the people were his family, but…he never felt quite like that was where his life would keep him. He needed to find out what else was out there, and heading into Montana was a great place to start.

  His uncle chuckled as well, casting a sympathetic look. “Well, now, your ma, my sister, has always been a little particular. She never did like that I went off on my own, often times for months. And when I finally left for good, she swore she’d never speak to me again.”

  That didn’t surprise Tim one bit. Though Tim could see pieces of his ma in Uncle Thomas’s features—they shared the same rich brown eyes and auburn hair—that’s where the similarities ended. While Ma had a thin nose that came to a rounded point, Uncle Thomas had a wide nose that grew into a bulb at the end. Ma’s cheeks were round, whereas Uncle Thomas’s cheeks were sharp, coming to a point at his chin. Also, where his ma was soft spoken, raising her voice only to reprimand a naughty child, Uncle Thomas seemed the boisterous type.

  “When I finally found my way to Morgan’s Crossing, I got myself a job at Michael Morgan’s gold mine. Once I made enough to purchase my own claim, I knew fate had grand plans for me. I struck a gold vein only two months after that. Now, I have men working for me. I have the largest estate in the territory, and I am a respected member of society—all because I didn’t listen when your ma told me to stay put.” Uncle Thomas’s face had taken on a sheen of sweat, and his cheeks were flushed. He seemed a passionate man, someone who’d taken control of his own life because no one else could live it like he could.

  “I think…I think that’s what I want, too, Uncle Thomas. I never felt like Dry Bayou was it for me. I knew there was something else I needed to do, somewhere else I needed to be. I don’t know if it’s here in Morgan’s Crossing, but I didn’t want to take the chance, especially after your generous offer.”

  Uncle Thomas grinned. “It was generous, wasn’t it?”

  Tim nodded, his exhaustion still burning behind his eyes.

  “I don’t have any sons of my own; God saw fit to give me only daughters. They took after their aunt, those two, which is why I sent them to her.”

  Tim knew too well that his ma, Phyllis, and Brigette were alike. The moment his cousins set foot on the Hanlon property, they’d taken over, which hadn’t sat well with Rhetta and Bernie. Eventually, all the women in the house joined forces against Tim and his pa. It was no wonder his pa took to working longer hours, hiring men from town to help expand the farm, so he had more work of his own to do. Also, it was no wonder Tim felt the need to escape. There was nothing for him in Dry Bayou but interfering womenfolk. He loved them something fierce, but he knew he’d never become his own man, find his own fortune, or start his own family if those women tied him down as he knew they’d been planning to do.

  Giving himself a shake, he met his uncle’s level gaze. “So, when do I start? What will I be doing?” As honest and character building as farming was, he was ready to try something new. Like mining, or cattle raising, or horse wrangling. Shoot, he’d even settle for building outhouses or digging holes, so long as he could make his own money doing it. Then, once he had enough, he’d strike out and find his own fortune. Just like his uncle had.

  “Well, there’s a lot of work to be had at Wheeler Hills, but that’s not what I have in mind for you, son,” he said, his expression darkening slightly before a glimmer of something unidentifiable flashed through his eyes. “I have something more…exciting in mind for you, Timothy, my boy.”

  Suddenly wary, Tim sat up and clasped his hands in his lap. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Let’s worry about that once you’ve had time to settle in, meet your aunt, get some food in your belly—a man is better company when he’s been well fed.”

  Slightly piqued, Tim wondered if his uncle thought him bad company. He hadn’t done or said anything his ma would box his ears for, so what was his uncle going on about?

  “Better company? I don’t understand. Did I offend you?” he asked, weary and yet alert.

  Uncle Thomas blustered and shook his head, reminding Tim of a surprised horse. “No, no, my boy. I only meant that food and rest makes a man a little more…agreeable. That’s what I meant.”

  Agreeable? What did his uncle have in mind for him that would require him to be more agreeable than he was now? He’d already left his family behind to travel hundreds of miles to a strange town to work for his uncle. How much more agreeable did he need to be for whatever job his uncle had in store for him? Before he could ask what his uncle had in mind, the man glanced out the window and smiled, his crooked two front teeth glinting in the sunlight.

  “Well now, looks like we’re here.”

  Chapter Two

  “We’re here,” his uncle repeated.

  Shocked, Tim followed his uncle’s gaze and saw a large, white structure in the distance. It looked like a two-story mansion backing into a hillside, and it was surrounded by acres of flat grassland, what looked like miles of fencing, dozens of horses dotting the land as far as he could see.

  “Gaw-lee!” Tim blurted. “That’s quite the spread you have here, Uncle.” His father’s farm was more than 100 acres, but it couldn’t hold a candle to what Tim saw before him. “I see why you need my help. How does one man own all of this?”

  His uncle made an ugly noise and Tim turned his head to look at him. The man had a sneer on his face. “No one, and I mean no one, can tell me how much land I can own. It’s mine, I paid for it fair and square, and I mean to own more. Don’t you dare let any man tell you what you can do on your own property…” As his uncle spoke, a haze of anger rose over the man’s face, filling his eyes. But it wasn’t directed at Tim.

  So, who is the burr under my uncle’s saddle, he wanted to ask, but his uncle’s expression and the tension rolling off him made Tim rethink his curiosity.

  “I’m eager to get out of this carriage and wash the dust from my clothes,” Tim admitted, praying the good Lord would have mercy on his aching body. Shifting in his seat, he moved closer to the window to get a better look at the house. “That’s an awful big house.” It was bigger even than La Maison, the immense mansion in Dry Bayou where the town founding family lived.

  Thomas chuckled and stuck out his chest. “Only the largest and grandest for a man of my wealth and stature.”

  Tim arched a brow. His uncle certainly wasn’t a humble man, which meant his ma had been right when she’d told him his Uncle Thomas was an arrogant snake. As a man of honor, Tim hadn’t wanted to believe his ma, he wanted to give his uncle the benefit of the doubt and learn about the man when he actually met him. Now that he had, he wondered how many other things about his uncle his ma got right.

  It took another fifteen minutes to reach the house, and it was much bigger right up close. The house seemed to rise right into the sky, and each wing of the house stretched for hundreds of yards in both directions. Who needed that much house? Especially when his children weren’t living there. With just Uncle Thomas and Aunt Melda living there, Tim couldn’t comprehend the utter pointlessness of such excess.

  On the other hand, Tim’s parents prided themselves on making due with what the Lord had provided them. They made a respectable living growing and selling corn and wheat, and they’d just expanded the farm, which allowed his pa to hire two other farmhands. Guilt prickled at him, but he pushed it aside. He’d worked on the family farm for as long as he could remember, and since he was the only son, his pa expected him to inherit the land and keep the farm going for generations to come.

  That’s not me. I’m not meant to be a farmer…Sure, he knew farming inside and out, but there was something burning within him, compelling him to leave the farm life be
hind. His pa was disappointed in him, but he’d admitted that Tim was his own man, and he could make his own choices. He knew his pa was hoping those choices would include staying in Dry Bayou, and Tim hated to hurt his pa, but…he couldn’t live his life making his family happy while he was so miserable.

  So, here he was, standing in front of a large house, hoping this was the first step to a new, better life.

  Behind him, Uncle Thomas cleared his throat. “Welcome to Wheeler Hills, my boy.”

  Tim nodded, still a bit overwhelmed. “Thank you.”

  Uncle Thomas smiled and raised his arm toward the two large, black double doors. “Go ahead on in, Melda is waiting for you. I’ll make sure your bags get to your room—hey there, Jimmy, come get these bags and get them to the blue room,” Thomas ordered the lanky, sunken eyed boy standing just off the porch near the carriage. The boy, realizing he’d been spotted, rushed forward. Snagging Tim’s bags from the boot and rushing inside.

  Tim followed behind him, holding his breath. He stepped through the doors and immediately collided with a fast-moving ball of fabric and elbows.

  He let out his breath in an oomf and stumbled back.

  Two large, golden-brown eyes stared up at him, annoyed and flashing fire. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” the small woman hissed, stuffing her flame-red hair back into the ugly yellow bonnet she’d more than likely just slapped onto her head.

  Charmed despite her sharp words, he couldn’t help but smile down at her. “Excuse me, I didn’t see you there.”

  She immediately stopped fidgeting with her hair and glared up at him. “Well…just make sure it doesn’t happen again. I don’t think Uncle Thomas would appreciate hearing that his hands are coming into the house and abusing his family.” Her voice was soft, and he could detect a slight accent. He liked it.

  He felt his smile grow. “Now, I don’t know who you think I am but—”

  She huffed and began fidgeting again, this time with the bonnet ribbon under her chin. “I know you’re in my way—”

  “Joanna, I suggest you change your tone when speaking to my guests,” a cultured voice drawled from a doorway off the main foyer. The woman in front on him tensed and her expression hardened. Who was this woman and why was she in such a hurry?

  The woman slowly turned to face the other woman, the one shoved into a glaring green, high necked dress. Her dull red hair pulled back into an elaborate style, which only made her sharp cheeks and pointy nose look all the more severe.

  “Aunt Melda, I was only trying to get outside. And this man—”

  “This man is your cousin, Mr. Timothy Hanlon,” the woman who apparently was his aunt, Melda, explained.

  The other woman, the one who looked even more like a naughty sprite now that she’d been caught, tensed further, her golden eyes flicking to him. “I didn’t know,” she began. “I apologize for running into you like and then for…being rude.” She didn’t sound apologetic in the least, but her gumption only made Tim smile bigger.

  “Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t looking where I was going, either,” he replied, stepping forward and extending his hand.

  She looked down at it then took it, her small hands surprisingly strong and rough. “My name is Tim, I’m Uncle Thomas’ nephew from Texas. Are you really my cousin?” He had the sudden hope that she wasn’t truly kin.

  “Not exactly,” the tiny woman offered. His hope grew, as did the tightening of muscles around his belly. He liked this woman, but Lord if he knew why.

  Melda stepped up beside her and pursed her already thin lips. “This is Joanna Stopay, my goddaughter. She’ll be staying with us for a few months.”

  The glimmer of something fiery flashed through Joanna’s startling golden eyes, and Tim knew then that whatever his uncle had in mind for him, Miss Joanna Stopay had something to do with it.

  Chapter Three

  JoJo swung around the side of the barn and scampered through the open barn door, immediately hiding behind a stall door. Holding her breath, she waited to see if anyone heard her come in. Horses whinnying and stomping, the far-off sounds of men working—the only sounds she heard in her hiding place. Letting out her breath, she sucked in another one, letting it out on a sigh.

  Wiping the nervous sweat from her forehead, she willed her heart to stop pounding, which after her run in with the stranger—her cousin, apparently—and her dash across the yard and into the barn, was thundering like a summer storm. Her cousin…Timothy Hanlon. Not her cousin, really, since she wasn’t related to anyone in the Wheeler family, and therefore not related to anyone in the Hanlon family. Her mother was Aunt Melda’s closest friend, which meant JoJo was her honorary goddaughter.

  JoJo hadn’t cared much about the connection to the wealthy ‘relations’ in Montana, at least until she discovered Dalton Hess was headed to Morgan’s Crossing.

  The sound of shuffling boots seemed to boom through the heavy air within the barn. Deep voices followed.

  “Hess, you’ve got to be more careful now that Tom’s nephew is here. He doesn’t look like much but he’s still a pair of eyes that we don’t need lookin’ too closely,” one man said, shuffling closer to the stall where JoJo was hiding.

  She hid a gasp behind her hand. Her heart stilled. Had they heard her?

  When they continued, as if uninterrupted by an eavesdropper, she let out her breath slowly.

  Come on, just tell me something I could use to catch you, you snake.

  “I ain’t worried about that wiry lump, he don’t scare me none. Besides, he’s here to work for Tom, bringing the crates from the stagecoach station to the claim. And he’ll be so busy watchin’ after that dizzy female, he won’t have time to put his nose anywhere else,” the voice of Dalton Hess rose over the stall door and into JoJo’s heart. She swallowed back the annoyance and rage just his voice could conjure.

  Keep calm, don’t let that worm get under your skin.

  “Female? You mean that uppity wench that’s more hair than curves?” the other man asked—probably Damon Beauford, another of her uncle’s ranch hands. And, he was talking about her! The lout! She bit back the growl of indignation, and continued to listen.

  Hess snorted, then barked a hideous, grunting laugh. “If she’s a female, I’m a nanny goat!” They both broke into peals of laughter, and JoJo grimaced at the sound. They weren’t just talking about her, they were making slimy comments about her.

  Let them say what they want, once they’re in jail, you’ll have the last laugh. And Joseph will have his justice.

  She listened to the other men as they talked about the farmstead, the foaling for the coming season, and the spring planting, all the while shuffling back and forth on booted feet. And she stood there, behind the stall door, listening with both ears, trying to find something, anything she could use against them.

  “You comin’ with me into town? Have meetin’ with a new hand,” Hess said, and JoJo held her breath. Meeting? In town? Who was he meeting with, and what were they meeting about?

  I’ll just have to find out.

  This was it, her chance to avenge her brother’s murder, she just had to sneak into town, follow Hess, and get the information about whatever he and the other men were up to. Then she could get the local law involved, and she’d finally be able to put Joseph’s death behind her. No, that’ll never happen, her heart rioted. Joseph had been a good man, an honest man, a man who would give you the boots off his feet. He was a wonderful older brother and an even better deputy. But Hess and his goons hadn’t cared what a good man her brother was. To them, he was just someone in the way, someone to shoot down in the street like a dog.

  A groan of pain escaped her throat and she tensed, her heart thudding to a halt in her chest. Had they heard? JoJo listened, holding her breath, hoping to the heavens above that the most dangerous man she’d ever known hadn’t heard her eavesdropping. If he found her there, it wouldn’t matter who her godmother was, she’d be dinner for coyotes before the day wa
s through. And so she listened, and waited.

  After long moments of silence, she dared to let out a long, slow breath, and she cracked the stall door open.

  Relief flooded through her like a cooling summer rain. The barn was empty. Sometime during her inner turmoil, the men had left, which meant they wouldn’t have heard her sounds of agony and anger.

  Stepping out from the stall, she straightened her skirts and forced her mind to think on her plans. Hess said he was going into town to meet with someone. Knowing Hess, he wouldn’t meet in broad daylight; too many eyes watching and ears listening. He’d have the meeting at night, somewhere dark and out of the way; probably an alley. It took two hours by wagon and one hour by horseback to get to Morgan’s Crossing, so if she left just after supper, she could get into town, find out where Hess was having his meeting, and lay in wait. She wasn’t a fool, she knew her plan was more difficult than her mind figured, but she wouldn’t let doubt steal her chance.

  To get to town, she’d need to sneak out, and that meant getting away from the house without Tom or Melda getting suspicious. Tonight, I’ll get a headache, right in the middle of supper, then I can sneak up to my room, change, and sneak out without anyone being the wiser.

  But what about the new guy, Timothy Hanlon from Texas, the man who was hard chest, lean muscle, laughing blue eyes, and open grin? Why she’d even realized he was handsome was a mystery to her. She didn’t have time for silly thoughts about fools. “…he’ll be so busy watchin’ after that dizzy female…” Beauford’s words came back to prick at her. She didn’t care what the filthy weasel thought of her, but if he was right, and Timothy Hanlon was there to keep an eye on her, sneaking out might just be harder than she thought.