Married To Claim The Rancher's Heir. Lauri Robinson

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      “Yes, Ruby.” Who else would he be referring to? “Are there others?”

      She sighed heavily. “No, Ruby was an only child. She will be four in a few months.”

      “How many months?”

      “Four. She’ll turn four on October 3.”

      “They didn’t waste any time in starting a family, did they?” The thought shot out of his mouth before he could stop it. Come January, it will have been five years since Max and Anna left. He wasn’t purposefully counting. The month and year they’d left had permanently branded itself in his mind. For several reasons.

      “I am not here to discuss when they started a family, nor how they met and fell in love, Mr. Callaway.”

      He wasn’t here to discuss that either. Nor should he be concerned about how she was rubbing the side of her neck raw. Ignoring that, he asked, “Why are you here, Miss Parker?”

      “Because—Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She rubbed both sides of her neck vigorously before picking up the larger of the two traveling bags on the floor. She set the bag on the couch, opened it and pulled out an envelope. “This is why.”

      He took the envelope and opened it while she went back to scratching her neck. “You should do something about that lace.”

      She gave him a sneer. “I don’t need your advice on anything, Mr. Callaway.”

      He shrugged, not really caring one way or the other, but if it was him, he’d have already ripped off something that irritating. His thoughts shifted as he unfolded the papers. Last Will and Testament of Maxwell T. Callaway.

      Flipping to the second page, he scanned the contents. He shouldn’t be, but he had to admit that he was surprised, both at the decree and the inkling of remorse bubbling inside him. It had been easy to say he didn’t care, that he’d considered Max gone from his life for five years, but this made it real. Too real.

      “Anna also had a will.”

      Gabe didn’t respond as he continued to read. The message he’d received almost a month ago stating both Max and Anna had died hadn’t provided a lot of information. Just that they’d died shortly before it had been discovered that the water source the town had been using for drinking water had become tainted. That happens with shallow wells. It had been unfortunate that so many in the small town—ironically first named Sweetwater, but more recently Mobeetie, Texas—had perished. The letter had stated the name of the town, but he’d already known that’s where Max and Anna had ended up. The letter had also named a person he could contact to inquire about Max’s and Anna’s personal possessions. There hadn’t been anything he’d planned on inquiring about. Of course, he hadn’t known about Ruby then. The letter was still in his desk drawer, but there was no need to read it again. There hadn’t been any mention of Ruby.

      “Why was Ruby hungry?” he asked.

      “Because the entire town had been quarantined. No food supplies could be shipped in. She was staying with a neighbor woman who had taken in several other children whose parents had perished.” After a short bout of silence, she said, “Mrs. Potter is a kind person. She simply didn’t have the supplies to feed so many. I left home as soon as I’d received word but had to travel most of the way by stage.”

      He nodded without looking up. After reading all the way to the bottom of the last page, noting it was duly signed and witnessed two years ago, he folded the pages and tucked them back in the envelope.

      “Anna’s will say relatively the same thing, except it leaves everything to me,” she said.

      He glanced her way. She was still going at her neck, both sides now, making it bright red. Her face was scrunched up and her lips pursed, which was an improvement over the glares and snootiness she’d portrayed earlier. Maybe. He didn’t care enough one way or the other to come to a conclusion on her looks. “It appears Max didn’t like you either.”

      “Excuse me?”

      He normally didn’t take an instant dislike to someone, but she’d made it easy. Max probably thought the same thing. They’d often shared thoughts. Other things, too, but sharing his bride-to-be should have been off-limits, even to his brother. Max should have known that. Most likely had, but that hadn’t stopped him. Tapping the envelope on the wide plank mantel of the stone fireplace, Gabe rerouted his thoughts. “Who died first?”

      She might have frowned. She was so sour faced and busy scratching her neck it was hard to tell.

      “It’s my understanding that Anna did. The day before Max. Why?”

      “Because,” he said, holding up the envelope, “this says Anna inherits everything if she’s still alive upon Max’s death. I’m assuming Anna’s says the same.”

      She nodded.

      “So, then, legally, upon her death, Max would have inherited all of Anna’s holdings, and therefore, upon his death, according to this will, I would inherit everything. His and hers.”

      The fingers at the sides of neck stalled as she stared at him, purple eyes wide and mouth open.

      He almost broke a grin. “Didn’t think of that, did you?”

      * * *

      Janette hadn’t been speechless in years. Years and years. She’d been close when she’d walked into the house and seen Gabe Callaway. He looked nothing like Max. The similarities of their hair, dark brown, not quite black, were where the resemblances ended. Gabe was taller and broader than Max had been, and his eyes were grayish green, like the sky turns right before a big storm. Unlike his brother’s round and cheerful face, Gabe’s was so expressionless his sharp features could have been chiseled out of stone.

      “I’m assuming you hadn’t thought of that.”

      She let the air seep out of her lungs while trying to come up with a response. All she’d thought of the past few weeks was Ruby. Rightfully so. Ultimately, she settled for “Considering they died within hours of each other—”

      “If a man has the right lawyer, it won’t matter how far apart they died.”

      Anger flared inside her, almost as hot as the burning on her neck. “Are you threatening me, Mr. Callaway?”

      “No. Just stating a fact.”

      The all-consuming itching on her neck wouldn’t cease and was making rational thinking of any kind impossible. She wouldn’t be capable of carrying on a conversation until discovering the cause and taking care of it. Folding both hands around her neck, trying to smother the burning, she asked, “Do you have a mirror? I have to see what’s irritating my neck.”

      “There’s one in the washroom off the kitchen.”

      She waited for him to gesture a direction. Even a general one. Rosalie, the housekeeper, had taken Ruby to the left, but in a house this size, she could wander to the left for some time and not find a washroom or kitchen. She hadn’t expected anything like this. The ranch itself was like its own town. Except it didn’t have stage service. She and Ruby had been dropped off on the crossroad miles south of the ranch. Luckily one of his hired hands had come СКАЧАТЬ