The Wyoming Heir

Luke poured what was probably his third cup of coffee and sank down behind the polished mahogany desk, brow furrowed as he stared at the pages of the will.

Why was God doing this to him? He hadn’t asked to inherit this estate. He just wanted to put his family back together and go home where he belonged, but now Grandpa’s will made it possible for Sam to stay with or without his approval. He took a sip of coffee and set the mug on the desk.

You shouldn’t set that on the wood. It could ruin the finish.

He blew out a breath. His sister was right—not that he cottoned to being reminded. Still...he grabbed a page of the will and stuck it under the mug.

His head ached, he was covered in road dust, and his face needed a shave. What he wouldn’t give for a good scrubbing in the stream, but first he needed to talk to Sam again. Or at least try talking to her. Hopefully their next conversation would go a little better than the first two they’d had. “Can we continue this discussion tomorrow? I’ve had about all I can take for tonight.”

The lawyer turned from where he stood shuffling through his own copies of the papers. “We’re about done, as it is. Let’s cover the charities quickly, then you can have the weekend to look over the will. Perhaps you’ll stop by my office in Albany on Monday with any further questions? Or if you wish, I can come here.”

“Albany on Monday’s fine.” He’d walk there barefoot, if doing so would end this fiasco for the night.

“Here’s the list of institutions your grandfather contributed to over the past five years.” Mr. Byron handed him three sheets of paper. As though the twenty-five names on one sheet wouldn’t have supplied his grandfather with enough philanthropic opportunities. “I’d expect the majority of these charities will send representatives to speak with you about donations in your grandfather’s memory.”

He’d figured that much when he’d talked to the headmistress at the academy earlier. He’d probably spend a week doing nothing more than explaining to the representatives that he would be heading West before he decided what to do with the funds.

“This is one you need to be particularly aware of, though.” The lawyer slid yet another piece of paper across the desk. “You may not know it, but your grandfather was the founder of Hayes Academy for Girls and stayed rather involved in that institution. It’s assumed you’ll fill the role he vacated.”

Luke frowned as he glanced at the papers for Hayes Academy—lists of finances and supplies, students and faculty. Easy enough to make sense of and not so very different from the accounts he kept of the ranch. “There’s a projected deficit. Am I in charge of raising money for my sister’s school?”

The lawyer shoved his drooping spectacles onto his nose yet again. Following the pattern, they slid right back down. “Either that or donating it yourself.”

He was never going to get back home. It took every ounce of pride in his body not to bang his head on the desk.

“Hayes Academy for Girls was your grandfather’s crowning social achievement. He remained rather proud of the school and very involved in its running, right up until his heart attack.”

Luke ran his eyes over the lists of expenses on the papers again. Looked like things could be managed a little better, but what was he going to do with the mess? He might be able to tell his lawyer to sell an estate, but he couldn’t exactly tell the lawyer to sell a girls’ school that he didn’t even own, could he? “All I see is projected expenses based on current enrollment. There’s no ledger?”

“The manager of the accounting office in Albany has the official ledgers, but the mathematics teacher, a Miss Elizabeth Wells, keeps her own ledgers and reports to the accountant. You might check with her about the school’s current financial state, particularly in regard to the day-to-day details. She stays more informed about such things than the accountant or the school board.”

Miss Wells. Lovely. He could just imagine how that conversation would go. Howdy, Miss Wells. Now that I’ve pulled my sister out of your school, I want to scrutinize every last figure you’ve recorded in your books. “How much, then?”

Byron’s eyebrows furrowed together. “How much what?”

“How much money did Grandpa’s will bequest to them?” Luke spread the papers into a bigger mess across the top of the desk. “For all the figures on these papers, I can’t find the amount.”

“Your grandfather made no bequests for a single charity. Everything was given to you, with the exception of the sums for Cynthia and your sister. He probably assumed once you saw the extent of his philanthropic endeavors, you would continue donating in his stead.”

Luke stuck a finger in his collar and tugged. Likely another way for good old Grandpa to trap him in this uppity little eastern town. “How much did my grandfather usually donate?”

The lawyer pointed to a number on one of the sheets.

“Two thousand dollars for one school year?” Luke jumped to his feet, the thunderous words reverberating off the office walls. He could understand five hundred dollars, or maybe even a thousand. But two thousand dollars so girls could learn fancy mathematics? “That seems a little extreme.”

The lawyer’s eyes darkened, and he jerked the paper away. “On the contrary. As I already mentioned, your grandfather advocated educating women, and it’s only natural he use his money toward that end. Since its inception, the school has been very successful at seeing its graduates enter colleges across the country.”

Luke leafed through the pages. “But it looks like donations are down...enrollment, too. It isn’t much to say the graduates go to college, when there’s no one to graduate.”

“That is hardly the fault of the school,” Byron insisted. “The current economic state has, of course, caused some students to delay their educations. And of late, there has been a bit of local opposition to the school.”

Byron handed him two newspaper articles: An Editorial on the Necessity of Educating Young Women by Miss Elizabeth Wells, and Excessive Amount of Charity Money Wasted on Hayes Academy for Girls by a certain Mr. Reginald Higsley.

Luke let the papers fall to the desk. “The derogatory article appeared at the beginning of the week. Has the school board printed an answer?”

The lawyer shook his head. “Your grandfather always handled situations such as this personally. But if you’re concerned about the articles, you may find it interesting that your grandfather was a rather large investor in the Morning Times.”

Luke sunk his head in his hands. “I see.”

And he did. He hadn’t even been in Valley Falls a day, and his life had been upended, flipped around and spun sideways a couple times. He was never going to survive here for a month.

Chapter Four

“These numbers don’t look good.” Samantha frowned and glanced up from the ledger she’d had her face buried in for the past fifteen minutes. “Do you think the school will close?”

“I don’t know.” Elizabeth moved the chalk in her hand deftly across her slate, finishing up some ciphering with yet another depressing result.

She and Samantha had spread a blanket beneath a large maple tree overlooking the back fields on the Hayes estate. The afternoon sky boasted a brilliant blue, and the breeze snapped with autumn’s crispness; birds circled the air above, and the nearby brook babbled gaily as it flowed over rock and sticks.

In short, it was a perfect autumn afternoon. But Elizabeth could hardly enjoy it when her time with the ledgers last night had revealed a frighteningly small amount of money left in the bank account. The academy barely had enough funds to pay teacher salaries and outstanding bills, and it was only October. They hadn’t even purchased the coal for the boiler system yet.

Elizabeth set her chalk down. “The school board will make the final decision about the academy closing. But Jackson’s findings will be a big part of it.”

Samantha blushed and ducked her head at the mention of Jackson’s name. “That doesn’t sound very promising.”

“No. Did you spot any mistakes in my mathematics?”

Samantha shook her head and shifted the still-open book to the ground beside her.

Elizabeth sighed. If only there had been a mistake, an extra five hundred dollars tucked into an account somewhere. But Samantha would have caught something so glaring. Goodness, Samantha would have caught a mistake ten times smaller than that. The girl was a pure genius when it came to ciphering.

“I don’t suppose it matters much either way for me.” Samantha gave a careless shrug of her shoulders—hardly a ladylike gesture—and slumped back against the tree trunk. “It’s not as if I’ll be around.”

An image of Luke Hayes, standing in the school hallway with his arms crossed and that frown on his face, flashed across her mind. “Is your brother still determined to take you out of school? If there was such a problem with your attending, why didn’t he or your father protest earlier, when you first started?”

“It’s not my going to the school that’s the problem. It’s staying in Valley Falls now that Grandfather is gone. Luke’s decided I have to return to Wyoming.”

The breath stilled in Elizabeth’s lungs. Pulling Samantha out of school was bad enough, but to take her all the way back to Wyoming? Samantha’s future would be ruined. “Why would he want such a thing?”

Samantha tucked her knees up into her chest and huffed. “Because he’s a tyrant, that’s why.”

“I’m sure there’s more to it than that.” There had to be. No one would be so cruel without a reason, not even the intimidating man she’d argued with yesterday.

“Not really. All he’ll say is that Ma and Pa miss me, there’s no one left to care for me here and I belong back on the ranch.”

Elizabeth reached over and squeezed Samantha’s hand. “Do you think it would help if I talked to him? Maybe if I explained all the opportunities graduating would give you, he’d let you stay.”

“It won’t work, not with my brother. Once he gets an idea into his head, he doesn’t listen to reason.”

Elizabeth let the silence settle between them, punctuated by the chirping of birds, the nattering of squirrels and the constant trickle of water over rocks. There wasn’t much she could say, really. She’d speak with Luke Hayes, all right, do anything she could to keep Samantha here. But Samantha knew the man better than she did, and if Samantha didn’t think anything was going to change Luke Hayes’s mind, the girl was probably right.

“How long since you’ve been home?”

“Three years.”

“That is rather long.” Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek. “Christmas doesn’t afford a long enough break for you to travel home and come back, but maybe if you offered to return to Wyoming for a visit after you graduate, your brother would let you stay until then.”

“Actually, I’ve been thinking of something else...” Samantha drew in a breath and fixed her eyes on the ground. “Do you think it’s wrong to...to hope Jackson proposes? Then I could stay here, marry him and not bother with anything Luke says.”

The meadow grew silent around them as she stared at Samantha’s flushed cheeks. Her brother and Samantha certainly showed signs of being a good match. But Samantha had dreams of being an architect, and she was still so young...

“I—I think marriage is a very serious decision, one that affects the rest of your life. If you marry Jackson, you should do so for the right reasons. Because you love him, want to spend the rest of your life with him, and will be happier with him than you’d be without him. Marrying for any other reasons will just cause trouble.”

It was a lesson she’d learned far too well when she’d been Samantha’s age.

A horse nickered somewhere in the distance, and the ground reverberated with the steady thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump of the beast’s gallop.

“I suppose you’re right.” Samantha looked up from the speck on the ground she’d been staring at. “That sounds like Triton’s gait, but who would be riding out this far? The stable hands don’t usually head this direction.”

A moment later, a rider in a cowboy hat appeared atop a magnificent dark brown steed at the far edge of the field.

Samantha scowled. “I should have guessed. My brother has to spend at least six hours of his day on a horse, or he goes crazy.”

Elizabeth tried not to watch as Luke Hayes approached, but in truth, she could hardly take her eyes from him as he raced across the field. He seemed to move as one with the strong horse, his legs hugging the beast as though it were an extension of his own body. It hardly seemed possible to imagine the man stuffed into Jonah Hayes’s office, going through the endless papers.

“Good afternoon.” Mr. Hayes reined the horse to a stop beside the blanket, towering over them like a king; then his eyes narrowed on his sister. “You didn’t say anything about coming out here, Sam.”

Samantha’s eyes flashed, and she crossed her arms over her knees. “I wasn’t aware I needed to ask permission to go for a walk on the estate.”

He raised one of his arrogant eyebrows and scanned the blanket, ledgers and slates sprawled on the ground. He didn’t need words to express the thoughts clearly written across his face: this doesn’t look like an unplanned walk.

Samantha huffed and picked up the ledger again, interested anew in the endless columns of numbers.

“Miss Wells, I can’t say I expected to find you here either, but I’ve a need to speak with you.” He glanced briefly at the equation-filled slate on her lap, and the side of his mouth quirked into a cocky little smile. “Do you ever take time off from that fancy mathematics?”

“Do you ever take time off from being a cowboy?”

The smile on his lips straightened into a firm, white line, and he swung off his horse. “I own five thousand head of cattle in the Teton Valley. I’m a rancher. That’s a mite different than being the hired help we call cowboys.”

“Indeed.” She nodded curtly and drew in a long, deep breath. With Samantha sitting beside her, she couldn’t exactly persuade him to let his sister graduate, but she still needed to ask about donating money to the academy. If only she could be polite long enough to make her request.

It was going to be very, very hard.

She blew out her breath and forced herself to smile.

“Can I help you up?” Mr. Hayes extended his hand.

She stared at it for a moment, hesitating to reach for him. But really, what was the point of being rude when she still had to ask about that wretched donation? She placed her palm firmly in his.

Mistake.

His wide, callused palm engulfed her small fingers, and heat surged through the spot where their skin met. He raised her to her feet without ceremony, as though he didn’t feel the impact of their touch somewhere deep inside. As soon as she was able, she tugged away her hand and shoved it behind her back, where it could stay safely away from Mr. Hayes.

The rascal didn’t even seem to notice, just pinned her with his clear blue eyes. “It seems you’ve taken quite an interest in the business affairs of Hayes Academy here lately.” Afternoon sunlight glistened down on Mr. Hayes’s head and cowboy hat, turning the golden-blond tufts of hair beneath the brim nearly white.

Elizabeth forced her gaze away from his hair. Why was she staring at it, anyway? So the man had beautiful blond hair. His sister did, as well. Blond hair wasn’t that uncommon.

Except when it shimmered like silvery-gold in the sunlight.

And she was still thinking about his hair. Ugh! “I teach at the academy. It’s only natural I’d be interested in it.”

“Interested enough to write editorials for the newspaper?”

Every bit of blood in her face drained to her feet, and her limbs felt suddenly cold. Did he hate her for interfering? Feel she had no business fighting for new students? Resent the negative attention she’d drawn to the school when that dreadful reporter retaliated?

The emotionless look on his face gave nothing away. His eyes stayed that cool blue, the same shade as a winter sky, without a hint of either understanding or disdain as they waited for her answer.

“Educating women is important to me.”

“I gathered that much yesterday. A bit hard to miss, actually, but I’m curious about the school ledgers at the moment.” He nodded toward the books, the one lying on the blanket and the other still in Samantha’s lap. “My lawyer informs me you’re keeping a set. I assume these are them?”

Oh, perfect. Just what she wanted to discuss. “My brother in Albany has the official ledgers. Perhaps you should talk to him.”

“I intend to, but I’d like a look at yours, as well.”

“No.” The word flew out of her mouth before she could stop it.

Samantha slammed her ledger closed. “Why do you want them? So you can look for some excuse to close down the school? As if pulling me out isn’t bad enough.”

Mr. Hayes glanced briefly at his sister. “This has nothing to do with you, Sam. I’m only doing the job Grandpa left me. Miss Wells, you must be aware that since I’ve been given my grandfather’s seat on the school’s board, I can request your books at any time.”

She knew very well what he could request, and what he’d likely do if he saw the books. He’d take one look at how little money was in the account and want the school closed immediately.

“Mind if I borrow your rag?”

“Excuse me?”

Mr. Hayes held up his hand—the same he’d used to help her stand. His palm was practically white, smeared with chalk dust.

Heat flooded her neck and face. She didn’t need to look down to know her own hands were covered in fine powder.

“Messy place, these fields.”

She reached into her pocket, grabbed a hanky—one of the ones she was forever using to wipe her chalk-covered hands on—and held it out to him. “I apologize. I don’t usually forget to clean my hands.”

“Thank you.” He rubbed the cloth over his palm and returned it.

She wiped her hands furiously, even though she’d be back to work the second he left.

He simply watched her, a half smile quirking the side of his mouth. “You missed a spot.” He pointed to her right sleeve, where a huge smear of white stood stark against the yellow of her dress.

“Thank you,” she gritted.

“So can I take those ledgers now?”

“I’d—” ...rather eat a toad!

Could she lie? Tell him things were going well—or at least as well as they had been before the newspaper article appeared on Monday morning—and tear out the last pages of the ledgers so the school appeared to have money?

She rubbed her fingers over her temples. No, of course she couldn’t do such a thing. She’d never been one to lie for convenience, and she wasn’t about to develop the habit now. He’d find out the truth soon anyway; just as he’d learned of the article she’d written to the paper. Better to be honest.

No, better to ask for another donation, and then be honest.

Except she didn’t want to ask the arrogant man in front of her for a penny.

Taking her requests to Jonah, with his kind smiles and grandfatherly manner, had been easy. But the man who had stormed into her class yesterday and torn Samantha out of school wasn’t exactly grandfatherly.

Or approachable.

Or kind.

“Miss Wells?”

She stared into Luke Hayes’s rigid face, his mouth and eyes stern and unreadable, and forced herself to form the words. “Actually, I’ve been wanting to speak to you about the ledgers and the academy. We’ve recently had difficulty with several of our donors, and I was hoping you could make a donation to Hayes Academy.”

There. She’d said it. Surely she deserved some type of award. A medal of honor, a golden cup, a life-size statue of herself erected in the town square.

“Yeah, that would at least be something nice you could do for the school.” Samantha crossed her arms over her chest. “Seeing how you’re dead set on pulling me out of it.”

But Mr. Hayes didn’t bother to look at his sister. “Grandpa donated slews of money to Hayes Academy. I don’t understand why you can’t be happy with what it’s already received.”

She threw up her hands. The man’s brain was as dense as a piece of lead. “Happy? You think I want a donation to make me happy? Girls’ futures are at stake, not my happiness. It’s an issue of keeping the school open, so we can train young women, not pleasing me.”

Mr. Hayes rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “Why is girls getting high school diplomas so all-fired important? I never graduated from high school, and neither did Grandpa. Yet here I am, doing a fine job of running my ranch without any piece of paper from a high school.”

She opened her mouth to respond, then snapped it shut. What did she say to that? Was it true Jonah Hayes never finished school? Probably. A lot of young people left to find work before graduating even now, let alone sixty years ago.

Mr. Hayes’s face remained set, his jaw determined, but sincerity filled the little sun lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. He wasn’t furious with her as he’d been yesterday but was asking an honest question.

And here she was, parading the importance of educating women in front of him, when he’d never finished his own education. Did he feel slighted or belittled? That hadn’t been her intention. “Well, you see, a high school education is important because—”

“Never mind. I read your article last night. I don’t need to hear some highfalutin list of arguments in person. Just give me the ledgers, and I’ll be on my way.”

“Oh...um...” And there again the man had her speechless. From ledgers to donations and back again, she could hardly keep up with the conversation. “Will Monday be all right? Samantha and I have a bit more work to do on them this afternoon, and I’ve some issues to discuss with my brother. I truly need the books over the weekend.”

Mr. Hayes blew out a long, tired breath, the kind that held a world of weariness in the exhaled air. “Monday, then. Sorry to disturb you ladies.” And with that, he swung back onto his horse and galloped off.

Elizabeth tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and sighed. The conversation surely could have gone worse. At least she hadn’t stormed away in a rage, and he hadn’t refused to give money to the school—

Though he hadn’t agreed to give any, either.

So why did she have a sour taste in her mouth?

She turned and offered Samantha a weak smile. “I feel like I handled that wrong.”

Samantha shrugged as she settled back down beside the tree. “It’s Luke. Anytime you disagree with him, he’d say you handled something wrong.”

Chapter Five

Covered in dust and smelling of sweat, Luke hurried through the back entrance to Grandpa’s house. After spending the first half of the day sorting through the things in Grandpa’s office, he’d decided to take a peek at the stable. After all, if he shut down the estate, he’d need to sell off whatever horseflesh Grandpa had acquired. But at a glance, some of that horseflesh had looked a little too good to be sold. So he’d hopped astride Triton, the finest beast in the stable, for a little ride.

He certainly hadn’t expected to find Samantha and Miss Wells. He glanced down at his hand and couldn’t help but smile. The white stain from her chalk dust had long since faded, but he’d never forget the memory of first looking at his hand and seeing white, then watching the color rise in Miss Wells’s face.

With her bright hazel eyes, perfect mouth and head of thick mahogany hair, the teacher was just as beautiful today as she had been yesterday...and terribly determined to wheedle money for the school out of him.

Luke rolled his shoulders as he headed through the back hallway and out into the grand hall. Should he give the school some money? It wouldn’t hurt anything. Grandpa had left him more than enough. And it might help Sam to see he wasn’t some type of greedy tyrant.

But then, he didn’t rightly know what he wanted to do with any of Grandpa’s money yet, besides give it to Pa. And how unfair would it be to all the other charities Grandpa had supported if he discounted them and wrote out a bank draft to Hayes Academy because a pretty little teacher with shiny hazel eyes smiled at him?