“The one and only.” Finnegan beamed at them both. “I was telling your brother-in-law here—”
“We aren’t related,” Arlen said, resting his hands on his hips. “Not yet.”
“Yes, not yet.” Finnegan gave him a benevolent smile, one that made every cautionary hair on the back of Arlen’s neck stand up. Finnegan was smooth—too smooth. “Anyhow, I was telling Mr. Cummings that he’d be unlikely to receive any offer to match my very generous one.”
George ran a hand over his chin. “I’m afraid I’m not interested in selling, Mr. Finnegan. And besides, half this ranch belongs to my sister, so it isn’t my decision alone.”
“I’m certain your sister could be persuaded.” Finnegan’s gaze moved to Arlen, as if he expected Arlen to jump and do his bidding.
Instead, Arlen gave him a quick laugh. “You haven’t met her.”
“Thank you, sir,” George said, firmly but kindly. “But we aren’t interested in selling.”
Finnegan didn’t move, instead looking between George and Arlen.
“Do you need me to see you out?” Arlen asked, his voice a shade darker than it had been.
“You ought to reconsider,” Finnegan said. “People will be mighty disappointed with this decision.”
Arlen stiffened. “What people?”
“The fellow I work for.” Finnegan reached for his hat. “I’ll be in town for a few more days. Let me know if you change your mind. And I urge you to do just that.” He made for the door, and Arlen burst into motion, reaching the door at the same time.
“Who’s hired you to buy this land?” he asked, his hand pressed against the door.
“Ah, but that’s confidential, you see,” Finnegan replied as he set his hat into place.
Arlen stared him down another moment, watching as the man’s eyes flitted between him and where his hand pressed the door shut.
“Arlen,” George said, a note of warning in his voice.
Arlen drew in a breath, waited a beat longer to see the man’s discomfort, and then stepped back.
“Please reconsider,” Finnegan said over his shoulder as he crossed the porch. “It would be in your best interest.”
Arlen glared at him until the man had climbed aboard his buggy and set his horse into motion. Then he shut the door and turned to George.
“What do you suppose that was about?” George asked at the same time Arlen said, “There’s more to this than he’s letting on.”
George paced across the room, hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”
And he’d start with a visit to the sheriff.
