Page 41 of In Honor’s Defense

“Ah, here it is.” Mr. Mullins looked up from his papers and smiled at her. “I’ve received a new offer for your land. Fifty percent more than the figure you turned down last month. I know you said you weren’t interested in selling, but this particular buyer is quite determined. To be honest, the price they are offering is more than the property is worth. If you and your nephew are set on remaining in Madison County, you could buy other land in the area and still have a handsome sum left over.”

She started shaking her head, fully intending to keep her promise to Nathaniel not to sell, but Mr. Mullins raised a hand to forestall her refusal.

He leaned across the desk and lowered his voice. “I hate to be indelicate, Miss Baxter, but with no source of income, how long do you think you can provide for your nephew? You’ve yet to experience a Texas winter. Not even the most fruitful garden will produce enough canned goods to see you through.” He leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh. “I was hoping that enough time had passed for the shock of Douglas’s death to have worn off and for reality to have set in. One must be practical, after all, when one is in charge of another’s well-being.” His brown eyes softened with regret. “I’m afraid sentiment won’t keep Nathaniel’s belly full.”

“I have a little money of my own put aside, Mr. Mullins,” Damaris said as she shifted in her seat. The chair that had been perfectly comfortable a moment ago seemed to have sprouted stinging nettles from its upholstery. “We won’t starve this winter.”

Though she really couldn’t say what future winters would hold. Douglas had put aside a small nest egg, but without his regular income, there was no telling how long that would last. She’d been so focused on tending to Nathaniel’s immediate needs and helping him through his grief that she hadn’t given much thought to their future. Perhaps Nathaniel could find work in town. Something he could do after school. Or maybe she could sell some of her embroidery or take in mending. She should speak to the local dressmaker, see if—

“What of next winter?” Mr. Mullins broke into her thoughts. “And the winter after that? I don’t mean to be cruel, Miss Baxter, but I wouldn’t consider myself a Christian if I didn’t warn you of the dangers that lie ahead. Dangers that can be avoided with a little wisdom and forward thinking.” He slid a paper across the desktop to face her. It contained a number that made her breath catch. “An offer like this doesn’t come around very often, ma’am. If you turn it down this time, I can all but guarantee there’ll be no third chance.”

Her fingers trembled as she touched the bottom corner of the page. Was she being foolish, letting sentiment overrule practicality? Was she so concerned about Nathaniel liking her that pleasing him in the short term took precedence over feeding him for the long term?

She withdrew her hand from the paper. No. She’d made a promise, and she aimed to keep it. They could always return to St. Louis for a year or two if they became destitute. Then, when Nathaniel was grown, he could return to his land and do with it whatever he wished.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Mullins. Your advice is sound, but I’ve promised my nephew that I won’t sell his land to Oliver Grimes. No matter how large the offer, I must decline.”

“But, Miss Baxter,” he said, leaning again across the table as he slid the paper a few inches closer to her, “this offer is not from Oliver Grimes.”

Her gaze dropped back to the page. This time instead of focusing on the number in the center of the page, she studied the printed heading at the top. A company’s name stood out in bold font—Harbinger Land Development Company. Out of Austin, Texas.

Not Oliver Grimes.

Her head swam as implications and possibilities flew at her from every angle. Heaven help her. There were two people trying to buy Nathaniel’s land.

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

Where’s Aunt Maris?”

Luke looked away from the stove, where he was warming a pot of beans, to peer at the boy who’d finally decided to put in an appearance. A frown wrinkled Nate’s brow as he slouched against the kitchen doorjamb. Luke had figured the kid would show up in time to eat the noon meal. If a growing boy could be counted on for anything, it was eating. Which was why he’d let himself into the house and thrown together a quick luncheon when he realized Damaris would be delayed in town.

Besides, it was past time he and Nate had a conversation about the boy’s behavior toward his aunt.

Luke held Nate’s gaze as he answered. “She’s still in town.”

Nate straightened away from the wall, his eyes widening slightly. “She should be home by now. Don’t take more’n a couple of hours to fetch supplies.”

“You know she’s doin’ more than just fetchin’ supplies.” Luke raised a brow. “After that temper tantrum you threw this mornin’, did you really think she wasn’t gonna do everything in her power to make things right by you?”

Nate said nothing, but his glare returned.

Luke did his best to bank his own temper, but it had been on a low simmer ever since Damaris left that morning. His worry over her didn’t help matters. So many things could go wrong during an investigation. Suspicions could be raised. Guilty parties could sniff out trouble and decide to eliminate it before it could bite them. The longer she was gone, the tighter the knot pulled in his gut.

He jammed his spoon back into the beans and stirred, muttering under his breath, “You got no idea how lucky you are, kid.”

“Lucky?” Nate’s voice rose in disbelief. “To have my pa killed by some greedy land-grabber? To barely even remember my ma?”

Wood scraped harshly against wood as Nate yanked a chair away from the table and launched it toward the wall. One of the legs broke free of the seat, leaving the chair listing drunkenly. Only the smallest hint of remorse touched the kid’s face before the belligerence took over.

Luke pointed his bean spoon at the damaged chair. “After we eat, you’re gonna fix that.”

Nate’s frown darkened.

Luke’s voice brooked no argument. “I’ll help, but you’re fixin’ it, hopefully before your aunt gets home.”

“Why do you care?”