Inherit A Dream (Sons Of A Gun Book 4) Page 4

  “Oh, I won’t require a new dress.”

  “I wouldn’t imagine so. Not someone as responsible with her money as you. But you might require a new pair of pants or a suitable pair of boots. Anything you aren’t able to acquire from the general store. If there’s nothing you require from Amanda Manning at present, leave the money on account until you do.”

  “Thank you for thinking of me.” Violet finally found her voice. “I… I don’t know what to say…”

  Mr. Watson pulled a bottle of ink and a quill pen from his other pocket. “Sign these papers and all will be in order. I’ll be out of your hair and heading back to town as soon as I enjoy a cup of your coffee.”

  Violet gasped. “My goodness, I completely forgot what I was doing.” She quickly carried the cups across the room and settled into a chair, pouring the coffee and passing one cup to the banker. “The cream and sugar are here,” she said, waving her hand toward the jug and bowl in the middle of the table, having forgotten to put them away after breakfast.

  By then the banker had the pen dipped in the ink pot and handed it to her. “Sign here, please,” he said, indicating the line on the last page of the document.

  Violet smiled. “I will as soon as I read over the agreement,” she replied. “My father taught Roland and me to never sign anything of greater importance than a shopping list until we’ve read it first.”

  Mr. Watson laughed heartily. “Your father was a very wise man.” He lifted his cup from the saucer and sipped the hot brew. “Go ahead and read the papers. I’ll wait.”

  Violet perused the agreement and almost choked on her coffee when she turned the page and read the amount the First National Bank of Milestone intended to lend her. She’d estimated a need for much less than was written here, but if she didn’t require all the funds, they’d remain in her account to be returned when the time came. And if she’d underestimated her requirements, the funds would be there to get her through until her cattle were shipped to market. Everything appeared in order including the rate of interest. She pointed at the pen. “Could you pass that to me, please?”

  Mr. Watson smiled, dipped the pen in the ink pot again and handed it to her.

  Violet signed on the line where he pointed and held her breath, waiting to wake from a deep sleep to discover this had all been a dream. She handed back the pen and pinched herself under the table. Yes, she was definitely awake. And now with Mr. Watson’s help she would save her cattle and pay for the Triple C in full.

  “Thank you so much for believing in me,” she gushed. “I will not let you down.”

  “You’re Arthur Campbell’s daughter, and I know you’ll succeed.” Mr. Watson polished off his coffee and folded the paperwork now that the ink had dried. He grabbed his bowler and stood. “It’s been wonderful doing business with you, Miss Campbell. And I look forward to seeing the day when you and your brother own this beautiful ranch.”

  Violet stood, barely restraining herself from hugging the man. “Thank you so much. Your faith in my abilities assures me that I can and will do this. I’ll make you proud.”

  “I believe you will. Write up your order and I’ll drop it at the feed store when I return to town. I’m hoping that Mr. Turner will be able to deliver your feed later this afternoon.” Mr. Watson waited while Violet dashed down the hallway to her father’s study. A moment later, she returned.

  “I wrote this up days ago, knowing I would need it eventually.” Violet handed the list to the banker and walked with him to the corral. “Thank you for doing this. I have stalls to clean and the horses require care. I’ll be waiting for the feed delivery.”

  “Take care, Miss Campbell.” The banker mounted his gelding and waved as he rode down the lane toward town.

  Violet bent down and absently scratched Moe behind his ears. She hadn’t the foggiest notion why the banker had changed his mind, but she couldn’t be more thankful that he had.

  “I believe we’re going to be all right, Moe. Now, we definitely have work to do.” She hurried back to the house and grabbed her old hat and a warm coat before heading for the barn.

  Moe trotted along at her side.

  “I want to shout to the heavens.” I did it! I’m going to save the ranch! Violet couldn’t discuss the specifics with anyone. Folks didn’t talk about money; it simply wasn’t done. Unless she was talking with immediate family invested in the same business interests as her own. And her one remaining family member currently resided in Ohio.

  “At least, I have you to talk to,” she muttered, patting Moe’s head. “Poor fellow, you’ll be rolling your eyes having to listen to me all day.”

  Violet decided to write Roland a letter tonight. She’d explain that she’d arranged a bank loan and she’d received the funds to save the ranch. She’d assure her brother that she was doing fine and there wasn’t any need to worry about her. She’d concede he’d done the right thing, returning to school and completing his vet training. She’d try her best not to include a sentence that read ‘I told you so’.

  Moe sat, looking up at her while he waited for the barn door to open.

  “You’re a good boy.” Violet chuckled, sliding the door. “And you’ll have to indulge me when I’m prattling on about everything that’s happening in my life and on the ranch. Since there’s no one else I can talk to, consider it an addition to your chores, Moe.”

  The dog listened intently to every word. Now she knew why her father had loved his four-footed companion so much.

  “Watch for that feed delivery this afternoon.” Violet entered the barn. “You can bark at Mr. Turner to your heart’s content and I won’t even scold you for it. That means help has arrived, Moe. Our feed order will be here.”

  In the matter of a couple days, every aspect of her life had taken a turn for the better. Nothing could damper her good mood. But her heart raced thinking about everything she had on her plate and all the work ahead of her. There was nothing she loved more than a challenge, and she’d certainly created one.

  “You can do this,” she whispered aloud, encouraging herself as she reached for the water buckets and headed out to the horse trough. “You haven’t any choice.”

  Chapter 6

  Simon presented himself at the First National Bank on Friday afternoon to co-sign Violet’s loan papers. He paused for a brief moment, holding the quill pen in his hand. He contemplated the importance of what he was doing and the inevitable consequences if he didn’t. If Violet ever learned about this action he was taking to help her, would she understand? Or would it destroy any hope of them having a future together? What if she considered it a betrayal of trust? Duplicity she could never forgive?

  “Having second thoughts?” Harold met his eyes.

  “Not a one.” Simon signed the paper, despite knowing he was risking so much, and he wasn’t thinking about money. He handed the document to the banker. “Not a single one.” He shook Harold Watson’s hand as he prepared to leave.

  “Thank you. You’re a very good friend to the Campbells, especially Violet.”

  Simon nodded, hoping she would think along the same lines if she ever discovered the truth. “Please make certain Milton doesn’t let the cat out of the bag. If Violet learns I’ve done this, she’ll have my head on a platter,” he warned.

  “Be assured. No one will know except Milton and me, and the folks at the bank in Butte where my reports are sent.” Harold walked Simon out of his office and glanced at the numerous customers in the bank at the moment.

  “You’re doing a robust business today,” Simon remarked.

  “Fridays are busy with ranchers coming into town to pick up supplies at the stores and socializing over lunch at the hotel, or partaking of a drink at the saloon if the missus is busy at the dress shop.” Harold chuckled. “My wife still works at the clothing emporium with Amanda on Fridays and Saturdays. Every week, Nancy comes home with the grandest tales you can imagine. The gossips almost live in that store, it seems.”

  “Ma used to claim
the same about the milliner’s shop when she met with the community womenfolk after Sunday church services. If Reverend Fitzpatrick heard the half of it, he’d be shocked.” Simon stuck his Stetson on his head. “Thanks again for helping me with this little problem,” he added cryptically, in case anyone was listening.

  “Always happy to assist a McLennon.” Harold winked at him. “Give my regards to your family.”

  “I will. See you at church on Sunday,” Simon called as he exited the bank.

  Harold waved him off. “Will do.”

  Simon strode across the street to the hitching rail where he’d tethered Hero. “Well, that’s settled. Let’s head out to the Triple C and check up on Violet. Maybe I’ll get a cup of coffee in the bargain.”

  Hero bobbed his head and side-stepped as Simon untied the spirited horse’s reins and mounted up.

  “I’m eager to see her again myself,” he mumbled as the horse immediately trotted toward the outskirts of town.

  * * *

  Violet shaded her eyes while watching the rider in the distance. She recognized Simon’s horse a second later. “What is he doing here again?” she mumbled. She’d been working endlessly all day, barely stopping long enough to drink a cup of tea and eat a cold sourdough biscuit with butter before heading back outside again. Now as the workday drew to a close, she couldn’t believe how much she’d accomplished. She headed to the house to meet up with her visitor.

  With her father given a proper burial and her brother gone back to Ohio, she could concentrate her efforts on everything that needed doing around the ranch. Unless a chore required near superhuman strength, she shouldn’t require the services of a hired man. Something she’d been reluctant to even consider. A woman never knew the exact intentions of any man, especially a stranger to town, when hiring on a new ranch hand. And being female and alone on the property, she wouldn’t put herself in danger for any reason. Her father had taught her how to use a gun, so if all else failed there was always shooting the fellow as a last resort. A behind full of buckshot would usually discourage the most amorous-thinking man.

  Of course, she wouldn’t hesitate to ask one of the McLennon men for help. Even Simon, if worse came to worse. That man completely distracted her every moment she spent with him, whether alone riding herd or in a crowd of folks at a church event. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was about him that sent her heartbeat racing and her palms sweating. Roland had teased her mercilessly the entire time they’d attended the Milestone School, and it had continued until he started his veterinarian training at age twenty-four.

  Simon loves Violet, and Violet loves Simon.

  She smiled at the familiar refrain running through her mind as she recalled her brother’s relentless taunting.

  Did Simon truly love her? Or was her brother fabricating a tale to annoy her? She’d forever hold a warm spot in her heart for Simon, the boy who’d always come to her rescue whenever other boys played jokes on her at school. But did she love him? She’d never taken the time to actually consider the possibility. And with all that required her attention to save the cattle, she certainly wouldn’t be contemplating her feelings for Simon McLennon any time soon.

  “How are you doing now that you’re on your own?” he called, dismounting and tying Hero’s reins to the hitching rail near the main house.

  “I’m fine, thank you. No problems at all,” she added, cheerfully. She’d offered him a broad smile before she could stop herself. And with good reason.

  Mr. Turner had delivered her substantial feed order at four o’clock and she almost swooned when she gazed upon those feed bins filled to overflowing. Hay bales had arrived from the Double M Ranch courtesy of AJ himself. The McLennon men had wisely put up extra hay last year anticipating the probability of a harsh winter. Thankfully, they had sufficient supply left to share with her and she promised them payment, although the ranch hand had assured her on AJ’s behalf that no monetary compensation was expected.

  “I see the hay Pa told me he was sending over has arrived.” Simon gazed at the pasture beside the main corral. “You order some feed?”

  “Yes, actually, this afternoon. Now that I have time to concentrate all my efforts on work around the ranch, I’m getting myself organized,” she offered as an explanation.

  “So, how did you manage to buy feed? Roland told me that your funds were on the meager end.”

  Violet felt her face pale. Roland had confided their personal business to Simon? She could throttle that brother of hers. “Well, I arranged a loan at the bank to tide me over until I can ship my fattened herd to market.”

  “Oh, well, that was wise.” Simon smiled at her. “I hope everything works out for you. And if you require help with anything, let one of us on the Double M know. We’ll have a man here to assist in no time.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate good neighbors.” Violet moved toward the back door. “Let me know if there’s anything you need help with also.”

  Simon chuckled.

  “Want a cup of coffee before you head home?” she called.

  Simon raced to catch up to her. “Don’t mind if I do. Thank you for offering.”

  Violet recalled how uncharitable and downright rude she’d been to him recently, but she couldn’t bring herself to apologize. She’d been distraught over her father’s sudden death and with everything else she’d had to deal with lately. But now that she’d found a way to save the cattle and the ranch, she realized life hadn’t thrown her a setback she hadn’t been able to recover from.

  “What are you doing on Sunday?” Simon inquired.

  “Chores in the morning. Then church.” Violet raced up the back steps and paused on the veranda before opening the door. “Why do you ask?”

  “Figured you might enjoy a buggy ride after church. Might as well come for dinner also, visit with the family. Mrs. Sheridan mentioned she’d love to see you soon.”

  Violet felt her face warming and her hands were sweating. Why did this man have such an infuriating effect on her? “That would be lovely. Everyone needs some time off once in a while.” Her voice sounded a little odd, as if she was having trouble breathing. Which she was.

  “I’ll pick you up around ten o’clock and we can head into town for church together.” Simon hurried forward and opened the door for her.

  And thank goodness, he had. Her wet palms couldn’t have managed it. “Thank you. I’ll be ready and waiting,” she added.

  “Actually, I’ve changed my mind about the coffee. It’s getting close to six o’clock, so I’d better skedaddle home for supper or Mrs. Sheridan will be annoyed if I’m late to the table.”

  “All right. I’ll see you on Sunday morning then.”

  “Ten o’clock.” He touched the brim on his Stetson and strode over to Hero. He mounted up and waved as he headed toward the Double M.

  Violet watched until he became a speck on the horizon and then she hurried inside to make a meal for herself. Yes, this ranching business would work out perfectly for her. Who said a woman couldn’t run a ranch as well as a man? Violet Campbell was an owner of the Triple C Ranch, and she would do a darn good job of running it also. And all by her lonesome, too. She’d show every doubter within a hundred miles, including her brother.

  And especially Simon McLennon.

  Chapter 7

  Since Violet received the proceeds of her loan enabling her to properly feed her cattle, she’d already witnessed some improvement in her stock. On her way into town yesterday to purchase food supplies for herself, she’d even discovered a few additional head of her shorthorns attempting to graze on Mother Nature’s meager offerings some distance from the house. She’d had a devil of time driving them closer to the barn by herself, but she’d managed to haul some feed to them and they discovered the hay themselves. That brought her tally to one hundred five head. Substantially less than the seven hundred head they’d counted on the Triple C last autumn after roundup, but better than some outfits that had lost their entire herd. />
  She completed cleaning stalls and hauling water to the cattle with the gravest injuries that were housed in the barn, including the new mothers. Roland had left her some veterinary salve to treat the open wounds on legs cut by the hard-crusted snow as the cattle attempted to move around. Many wounds bled at the slightest touch, but at least the cuts remained infection-free for the most part because of it. The salve had done wonders in the short time she’d been using it and another day or two and most of her cattle would be turned out to pasture again. The calves and their mothers would remain in the barn or corral for a while longer. There was the matter of the branding to consider, but she’d worry about that later.

  She stepped outside the barn into glorious warmth. After so many blustery days this winter, every morning she awoke to sunshine seemed a special blessing. She dragged her hat off her head and slapped her thigh with it. A small cloud of dust hung in the air for a moment before drifting to the ground.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a rider in the distance. She groaned aloud. Not Simon again, coming to check up on her. She watched as the man moved closer, definitely intent on coming her way. He wasn’t Simon though. The horse moved differently and the rider appeared smaller than any of the tall, solidly built McLennon men. She startled when her cattle dog began barking furiously at her side.

  “Good boy, Moe.” She praised him, leaning down and patting his head. “You give that fellow fair warning we won’t tolerate any shenanigans with you at the ready.”

  Every muscle in Violet’s body tensed as the rider continued toward them. What did surprise her as the fellow approached, Moe hadn’t growled at the man. Usually the hair on his back would be raised and he would be pacing in front of her, demonstrating protectiveness. A large hat shaded the man’s face and Violet couldn’t meet his eyes. She didn’t trust anyone who wouldn’t look you in the eye, or was that intentional? Her senses heightened, convinced the fellow probably represented danger. Would he know she was here alone? Should she race to the house and fetch the shotgun?