Chapter Twelve
Josie urged Gretchento a stop as the fancy black buggy, the likes of which she’d never seen before, came barreling up to the road. She’d just finished hanging the wash and was about to ride out to the east pastures. She raised a hand as the buggy began to pass, and the driver slowed his horse.
“Mrs. Gresham?” the man inside called.
“I am she.” But as Josie moved forward, she began to wish she’d never let him know who she was. It was the man who’d wanted to buy the ranch from Arlen. She’d recognize him anywhere, a man of that short stature in such a nice suit. Well, there was no use pretending as if she didn’t know him. “You must be Mr. Finnegan.”
He looked pleased that she knew his name. “I am indeed. In fact, I was just up at the house discussing a business proposition with your brother and your intended.”
“He isn’t my intended,” she said.Not yet. Her eyes widened slightly at her own thought. Where had that come from?
“That isn’t what the folks in town say,” Mr. Finnegan said with a smile she supposed he intended to look conspiratorial but instead read as devious.
“I don’t much care what people say about me.” She flung her braid over her shoulder to emphasize her point.
“A smart woman.” He looked back toward the house. “You ought to encourage your brother and Mr. Thomas to accept my offer.”
Josie’s eyebrows flew up and she gripped the reins tighter. “Mr. Thomas has no such decisions to make regarding my half of the property. And besides, George and I have no wish to ever sell our parents’ ranch—to you or to anyone.”
“Hmm.” His friendly demeanor disappeared as fast as the stars at sunrise. “Well, then, might I give you some advice, Mrs. Gresham?”
“You may, although I can’t say I’ll take it.”
His mouth quirked up before he assumed his dour expression again. “Whether or not you decide to sell to me, I suggest you opt not to marry Mr. Thomas.”
Josie sat rigid in the saddle. “Why is that?”
He held up a hand. “I can say no more, save that he is a man who has the habit of running from difficulties. And with that, I’ll bid you good day, ma’am.”
As she watched his buggy disappear down the road back to Last Chance in a cloud of dust, Josie pondered the man’s warning. Surely, she could believe nothing he said. After all, his only goal was buying property they didn’t wish to sell. And he could have been speaking of anything, even Arlen’s simple decision to leave life as a lawman behind. Yet, Mr. Finnegan’s words sat in her stomach like a rock.
As she drew up to the house, Arlen was there, descending the steps.
“Why was that man here?” she asked as she climbed down from Gretchen. She figured it best to act as if she hadn’t conversed with the man up by the road. She didn’t want to think about that warning, and besides, she wanted to hear about what had happened from Arlen’s own mouth.
Arlen pursed his lips, looking toward the north, where Last Chance lay somewhere off in the unseen distance. Overhead, fluffy white clouds rolled along as if nothing was the matter. “He came to convey his offer to your brother.”
“And?” Josie’s heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst through her chest.
Arlen’s eyes darted to hers. “He declined, of course. However . . . “
“However what?”
Arlen drew in a breath. “Finnegan indicated that it was in our best interest to agree to his offer.”
That wasn’t at all what Josie had expected. “He threatened you?”
“Not in so many words, but yes. It was a threat.” Arlen’s arms were stiff at his sides, and Josie thought that if Mr. Finnegan were to appear before him, Arlen would likely throw a punch at the man. There was no way she could believe anything Mr. Finnegan said. He was only trying to sow dissension between them to make it easier for him to acquire the property.
Just the thought of losing this place made her feel as if she were sick.
