“Explain.”
“Grow or die, it was John’s motto and she’s zealous about it,” Clive said. “She has over a thousand acres now that she bought out most of the Mendoza property. She wants to double that.”
“There’s no way.”
“Well, Baldwin was going to sell to her, and so were the Coulters. The Coulters still can, but it won’t be contiguous since we have their eastern half. Both those properties would have given her well over the thousand more she wants. There are a few other small farms on the north she could offer for, but the land isn’t ready to farm, and it’s too dense for cattle. She’d have to put in a lot of time and money.”
“Double?” Mitchell didn’t understand why, after the death of her husband, Ellen McKenna would want to work herself to the bone to achieve next to nothing and for land that she had married into.
“Travis would be happy to sell off ninety percent of their land and just have horses, but he’s not going to push her.”
“He’s not on the deed?”
“No, it’s all in her name.”
“And her children would inherit,” he said thoughtfully.
Clive tensed. “Don’t go there.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course not,” Mitchell lied. True, he didn’t want to hurt anyone. But he had to find a way to convince her that selling to him was the only way to survive.
“Look,” Clive said, leaning forward, “we follow through with my plan. It’s going to work.”
“It’s too slow. I need that plot.”
“I have an idea,” Clive said. “She wants to grow; we help her grow. She sells us those two hundred acres, we sell her part of Baldwin’s property we just bought, eight hundred acres. We keep the acres we need, give her part of what she wants, everyone is happy.”
“I’m not happy,” Mitchell said, but it was an idea. Maybe the only way he could salvage his plans—plans that were two years inthe making. “But she needs to make the decision before five o’clock Sunday. We’re down to the wire. I need everything signed, sealed, and delivered by Monday morning.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to Travis—”
“No. Talk to Ellen directly.”
“She won’t talk to me. I was there this morning and Penny ran me off with a shotgun.”
“For shit’s sake, Clive, that old woman can’t hit the broadside of a barn. Go to Ellen, offer her the trade. She’s getting a great deal—I mean, it’s a fucking steal and I hate offering it. But we’re out of time. Draw up the contract and let me see it first, then get her to sign it.”
“Okay. Sounds good.” Clive rose.
“Clive,” Mitchell said sharply.
“Yep?”
“There is no other alternative, understand? Ellen McKenna will sign that contract. If I have to go over there myself to convince her, I will.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The drive to Margery’s house took less time than Ellen expected. Even with the rain falling steadily now, a gray mist hugging the trees, and the low water crossings threatening to swell, she made good time. That, she told herself, was a good sign. The dirt and gravel roads were rutted from last weekend’s hailstorm, and wet from the rain last night, but she hadn’t needed the four-wheel drive, not even on the steep driveway that climbed up through the cedar trees to the small house Doug Sutton had finished building just before his deployment.
Ellen parked under the carport next to Margery Sutton’s old Bronco and grabbed her waterproof bag. Her boots hit the wet gravel with a crunch. Before she could knock, the door opened. Susie stood there, barefoot, her long blond hair pulled back into a messy braid. Her expression was tight.
“She’s been having these cramps since last night. Nothing regular. But she says she just doesn’t feel right. And then the blood—it freaked me out more than Margery.”
Ellen gave her a reassuring nod. “That’s why I’m here.”
She was glad she came. She liked Susie, but she was definitely more high-strung than her older sister. If Ellen could get themboth to remain calm, that would go a long way toward alleviating many complications.
Inside, the house smelled like lavender and cinnamon—someone had been baking or maybe trying to soothe nerves. Faint instrumental music that Ellen couldn’t identify floated through the speakers. Margery lay on the couch, curled on her side, her hand pressed low against her belly. Her pale hair clung to her forehead and she looked more tired than usual. But she smiled when she saw Ellen.
