about the things that worried him. The ranch hasn’t made a dime since the drought, and he knew he’d lose it to the bank if he didn’t think up another crop.”
He lowered the flame in the lamp, then threw down the whiskey, gritting his teeth as it burned his throat. “Something else was on his mind, too. Something about the river, and the fact that the water level was down way too far in spite of the drought. But before he could elaborate, I … felt the need to break off our association.”
Nate frowned. “Why?”
Wolf gave him a sick grin. “Miss Julia has a very determined younger sister.”
Nate leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “And … ?”
“And she wouldn’t leave me alone.”
Nate guffawed, then clamped his hand over his mouth. “And that was a problem for you?”
“I know, I know. But she—”
“She was ugly?” Nate finished for him.
“Hell, no,” Wolf exclaimed. “She was a real beauty.”
Nate leaned back and studied Wolf. “Was?”
“Yeah. I left because Miss Julia suspected that something was going on between her sister and me.” Wolf rubbed the back of his neck. “I hated to leave Amos, but under the circumstances, I didn’t feel I had a choice.”
“So, what brought you back?”
“Amos wrote and made me an offer. Said he’d sell me the land I wanted if I stayed on as foreman. We’d talked about a new crop, drying the fruit and shipping it to the East and Europe. I guess he thought it was the best chance he had to keep the place. And Miss Josette had run off with another man, so Miss Julia would be alone after Amos died.”
Wolf shoved the bottle toward Nate. “Amos was sick. Had the wasting disease, I think. The whole idea of staying on here sounded like a good thing, but I told him he had to tell Miss Julia, because I knew she wouldn’t believe he’d suggested the whole idea if it came from me.”
Nate shook his head. “And you wound up marrying her?”
“The sly old dog changed his will after we’d drawn up the other agreement. Then he was … then he died.”
“From the disease?”
“No. It appeared that he’d either had an accident or killed himself. The official record states that it was an accident. I think Miss Julia suspects suicide, but she’s never mentioned it out loud. I have a problem with that.”
“Hey,” Nate said, spreading his hands on the table. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone had taken his own life because of a disease. He could have been depressed, he—”
“It might have been tongue in cheek, but he promised me he wouldn’t die before I got here, and then he did. I think he had help.”
“Why?”
Wolf shook his head. “Just a feeling, but I’ve been studying the river. I think his intuition was right. Someone is diverting the water away from the normal flow.”
“And he was killed over that?”
“C’mon, Nate. Water’s in short supply. No one’s recovered from the drought.”
They sat in comfortable silence, the sputtering of the flame in the lamp the only noise in the room.
“How do you feel about becoming a rancher?”
Wolf traced the pattern on the oilcloth with his index finger. “I don’t know yet. I do know that for the first time in my life, I have something I can call mine, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let go of it easily.”
There was a long, quiet pause. “Was she ever married?”
Wolf wasn’t entirely surprised by the question. “I have no idea, but I don’t think so. No one, not even old Amos, ever mentioned it. It’s an odd thing to keep secret, don’t you think?”
Nate raised his eyebrows. “And who fathered the baby?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” The presence of the baby had never bothered Wolf. The mere fact that Julia had had an indiscretion at least once in her life was comforting, for it meant she was human. He’d never been comfortable around virgins, anyway. He wasn’t even sure he’d ever met one.
Nate gave him a slow, sympathetic smile.
He lowered the flame in the lamp, then threw down the whiskey, gritting his teeth as it burned his throat. “Something else was on his mind, too. Something about the river, and the fact that the water level was down way too far in spite of the drought. But before he could elaborate, I … felt the need to break off our association.”
Nate frowned. “Why?”
Wolf gave him a sick grin. “Miss Julia has a very determined younger sister.”
Nate leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “And … ?”
“And she wouldn’t leave me alone.”
Nate guffawed, then clamped his hand over his mouth. “And that was a problem for you?”
“I know, I know. But she—”
“She was ugly?” Nate finished for him.
“Hell, no,” Wolf exclaimed. “She was a real beauty.”
Nate leaned back and studied Wolf. “Was?”
“Yeah. I left because Miss Julia suspected that something was going on between her sister and me.” Wolf rubbed the back of his neck. “I hated to leave Amos, but under the circumstances, I didn’t feel I had a choice.”
“So, what brought you back?”
“Amos wrote and made me an offer. Said he’d sell me the land I wanted if I stayed on as foreman. We’d talked about a new crop, drying the fruit and shipping it to the East and Europe. I guess he thought it was the best chance he had to keep the place. And Miss Josette had run off with another man, so Miss Julia would be alone after Amos died.”
Wolf shoved the bottle toward Nate. “Amos was sick. Had the wasting disease, I think. The whole idea of staying on here sounded like a good thing, but I told him he had to tell Miss Julia, because I knew she wouldn’t believe he’d suggested the whole idea if it came from me.”
Nate shook his head. “And you wound up marrying her?”
“The sly old dog changed his will after we’d drawn up the other agreement. Then he was … then he died.”
“From the disease?”
“No. It appeared that he’d either had an accident or killed himself. The official record states that it was an accident. I think Miss Julia suspects suicide, but she’s never mentioned it out loud. I have a problem with that.”
“Hey,” Nate said, spreading his hands on the table. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone had taken his own life because of a disease. He could have been depressed, he—”
“It might have been tongue in cheek, but he promised me he wouldn’t die before I got here, and then he did. I think he had help.”
“Why?”
Wolf shook his head. “Just a feeling, but I’ve been studying the river. I think his intuition was right. Someone is diverting the water away from the normal flow.”
“And he was killed over that?”
“C’mon, Nate. Water’s in short supply. No one’s recovered from the drought.”
They sat in comfortable silence, the sputtering of the flame in the lamp the only noise in the room.
“How do you feel about becoming a rancher?”
Wolf traced the pattern on the oilcloth with his index finger. “I don’t know yet. I do know that for the first time in my life, I have something I can call mine, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let go of it easily.”
There was a long, quiet pause. “Was she ever married?”
Wolf wasn’t entirely surprised by the question. “I have no idea, but I don’t think so. No one, not even old Amos, ever mentioned it. It’s an odd thing to keep secret, don’t you think?”
Nate raised his eyebrows. “And who fathered the baby?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” The presence of the baby had never bothered Wolf. The mere fact that Julia had had an indiscretion at least once in her life was comforting, for it meant she was human. He’d never been comfortable around virgins, anyway. He wasn’t even sure he’d ever met one.
Nate gave him a slow, sympathetic smile.
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