Reunion of Revenge. Kathie DeNoskyЧитать онлайн книгу.
company for the next four years, no matter who the owner was.
Parking her truck at the side of the big, white two-story Victorian house, she swallowed around the lump clogging her throat. She hadn’t dared tell her father about the latest development. He wasn’t well and hearing about Nick’s return would only upset him and possibly cause more problems. And until she figured out what she could do about the situation there was no reason to worry him unnecessarily. Besides, she was doing enough stressing for the both of them.
As she grabbed the manila folder on the seat beside her and got out of the truck, she prayed for a miracle. She didn’t really expect one, but at this point, divine intervention seemed to be her only hope of escaping the current mess she found herself in.
When she climbed the steps of the wide wraparound porch and knocked on the door frame, instead of Nick, a heavy-set woman of about sixty opened the screen. “You must be Cheyenne Holbrook.” She stepped back for Cheyenne to enter the foyer. “I’m Greta Foster. My husband, Carl, and I have been the caretakers here at the Sugar Creek for several years, but I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”
Cheyenne wasn’t surprised that they hadn’t met. Before Nick left, her father had forbidden her to go anywhere near the place. And after she’d become the ranch foreman a little over six years ago, she hadn’t ventured this far onto the Daniels property because it only reminded her of the shattered dream she’d had when she was sixteen.
She was supposed to have been Nick’s wife and lived here with him and his mother in this big, wonderful house. While he ran the ranch, she was going to teach school and together they were going to raise a houseful of children and live happily ever after.
Removing her red ball cap, she shook her head to dispel the last traces of her troubling thoughts. “I’ve talked to Carl on the phone several times to let him know some of the men I supervise would be working close by, but I’ve never actually been here.”
“Well, now that you have, you’ll have to drop by more often.” Greta’s smile was friendly as she motioned toward a closed door across from the great room. “Nick’s waiting for you in his office. Would you like something to eat or drink? I just took an apple pie out of the oven and made a fresh pot of coffee.”
“No, thank you.” Cheyenne smiled and raised her hand to knock on the office door. “I’m hoping this meeting won’t take long.” At Greta’s surprised expression, Cheyenne hastily added, “I need to make a trip to the feed store for some supplies before Harry closes for lunch.”
Apparently satisfied with her explanation, Greta nodded. “If you change your mind, I’ll be in the kitchen.”
As the woman moved down the hall toward the back of the house, Cheyenne took a moment to settle her jangled nerves. The last thing she wanted to do was go through with this meeting, but the choice had been taken out of her hands.
Before she could change her mind and run as far away as her old Ford truck could take her, she knocked, then opened the door. “Nick?”
He was sitting at a large oak desk, talking on the phone. “I’m glad to hear that you and Alyssa had a good time on your honeymoon in the Bahamas.” Nodding for Cheyenne to come in and sit in the chair in front of his desk, Nick laughed at something the person on the other end of the line said. “Let me know when you hear more from Hunter about his E.M.T. courses. Talk to you later, Caleb.”
When Nick hung up the phone and turned his attention on her, his easy expression faded. “I take it you spoke with Luther Freemont?”
Unable to relax, she sat on the edge of the leather armchair and pushed the folder across his desk. “Mr. Freemont told me that you were the owner of the Sugar Creek now and that I should discuss the terms of my contract with you.”
His expression unreadable, he stared at her for several tense seconds before he picked up the file and flipped it open.
Cheyenne’s cheeks grew increasingly warmer the longer he scanned the contents of the file. When she’d signed the contract to work for the cattle company, Mr. Freemont had assured her that the terms of their agreement would be handled with complete discretion and only a handful of people would know the real reason she’d signed away ten years of her life.
When Nick finally looked at her, his questioning expression had her wishing the floor would open up and swallow her. “Would you like to explain all this, Cheyenne?”
Humiliated beyond belief, she bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. When she felt in control enough to get the words out, she proudly raised her head to meet his gaze head on.
“I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.” She took a deep breath. “Not only do you own the Sugar Creek, you own my father’s ranch, as well.”
Two
Nick couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d been zapped by a juiced-up cattle prod. How ironic that the eighteen-year-old boy Judge Bertram Holbrook had tried his best to ruin all those years ago had not only returned to reclaim his ranch, he owned the good judge’s ranch as well. If what the man had tried to do to him hadn’t been so low and vindictive, Nick might have laughed out loud. But one look at Cheyenne’s pretty face told him there was more behind the story than met the eye.
“All this contract tells me is that I own the Flying H and you have four more years left on a ten-year work agreement.” Shoving the folder aside, he sat back in the leather desk chair. “Why don’t you fill me in on the details?”
He could tell that was the last thing she wanted to do. But when she raised her eyes to meet his, there was a defiant pride in their aqua depths that he couldn’t help but admire.
“Daddy had a stroke six years ago. He’s been partially paralyzed on his left side and in a wheelchair ever since.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Cheyenne.”
Nick knew how much she loved her father and how hard that had to have been for her. And no matter how much he despised the man, Nick didn’t like to hear of anyone’s suffering.
She glanced down at her hands. “When I dropped out of school to come home to care for him—”
“You had to quit school?” She’d always wanted to become a teacher and he hated that she’d had to give that up.
“I only had a couple of semesters left, but Daddy needed me more than I needed to finish school.” She shrugged, but he could tell it still bothered her. “There wasn’t any money for my last year at the university anyway.”
Nick frowned. Bertram Holbrook had always been one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the county. Or at least, that’s what he’d always led everyone to believe.
“Surely—”
“No.” Obviously embarrassed, she suddenly rose to her feet and walked over to the window between the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. “Do I have to spell it out for you? We’re broke. The only thing keeping us from being homeless is that contract.”
He didn’t know what to say. As far as the judge was concerned, Nick couldn’t have cared less. But Cheyenne didn’t deserve the burden of having to pay for the sins of her unscrupulous father or be forced to give up her dreams.
“What happened?” he asked, when he finally found his voice.
Her shoulders sagged as if the weight of the world rested on them a moment before she finally turned to face him. “Daddy had made some ill-advised investments and when the stock market took a nosedive, he was too incapacitated from the stroke to sell before he lost most of his portfolio.”
“He had a lot of Web site stocks?” Nick guessed, remembering the crash of the Internet stocks several years back.
“What was left wouldn’t even cover our utility bills for a month,” she said, nodding. “Then, when the doctors told us he couldn’t work any longer, things went from bad to worse.”