Never Love a Lawman (13 page)

Wyatt said nothing.

“Well,” Rachel said before the silence became overlong and painfully uncomfortable, “I’d be obliged if you’d show me the papers.”

His gaze narrowed. “You’re certain?”

“Oddly, I am.”

Wyatt used the pencil to point to the table. “It will be easier to review things over there.”

Once they were seated, he passed the articles of incorporation to Rachel as well as the substantiating documentation. She looked it all over, recognizing Clinton Maddox’s initials scrawled in the corner of every page and his bold signature on the final one. She also read the names Matthew Cooper, Sidney Walker, and Henry Longabach. Matthew’s name had been succeeded by Wyatt’s on the attached addendum.

Everything was outlined as Wyatt had explained to her. There were provisions for dissolution and perpetuation and the articles clearly delineated the process by which the single partners could name their heirs but still retain the right to rename them if the heirs predeceased them. If no one was named prior to their death, then their shares became part of their estate.

“Wouldn’t it have been better if the shares went to the town when either Mr. Maddox or your father died?”

“Henry and Sid, speaking for the miners, wanted that, but back when this was signed they weren’t in a position to keep the mine going without Mr. Maddox’s backing. If he had died early on, they would have owned shares that were essentially worthless because the placer silver would have played out. They needed the railroad, so they were willing to bet that Maddox’s heirs would bring it to Reidsville if Maddox didn’t live long enough to do it.”

“What about your father? It says here that his heir was Nicholas Cooper, not you.”

“There were a whole lot of reasons he wanted to keep his share for the family. He intended for my oldest brother to have it, but Nick died at Chickamauga in sixty-three, and my older brothers—Jonas and Andrew—well, it didn’t suit my father to pass it on to them. That’s how it became mine.”

Rachel searched through the documents until she found the paper that passed Matthew Cooper’s share to his son Wyatt. “So Mr. Maddox was just following procedure when he wrote up the separate document naming me his heir.”

“Yes. He added the paragraphs about the spur because he wanted you to have it to protect the town’s interests.” He paused. “And your own, of course.”

“And yours?”

“I imagine he gave me a thought. In spite of their differences, Maddox and my father respected each other, and Maddox was fair in his dealings with all of us. He didn’t want to see any of us lose out because his grandson was now in a position to inherit. Things would have been different if Benson had lived. With Foster…” He let the idea lie there and watched Rachel’s dark eyes cloud and her mouth slowly reshape itself into a tight, worried line.

Not unsympathetic, he said, “It’s a lot to think about.”

Uneasy laughter bubbled to her lips at the understatement. It was difficult to form a coherent thought. She couldn’t imagine herself taking the step that the terms of the contract outlined. “How long?” she asked.

“How long?”

Rachel nodded. “Until I have to make a decision? I didn’t read anything about how much time I had. Did I miss it?”

“You didn’t miss it,” Wyatt told her. “It’s implied. The half share of the mine is already yours. I need to draw up some new papers, amend the articles, and get your signature on them. Henry and Sid will witness everything, of course, but all of that is more or less a formality. You own half of the mine whether I get the papers done today or three months from now.”

“Yes,” she said. “Thank you. I think I’m clear on that.” She absently raised one hand and laid her fingers just below the hollow of her throat. Unaware of the gesture, she began to massage the area gently.

“Are you all right?” asked Wyatt. “Should I open a window?”

“What? Oh.” She realized what she was doing. “Yes, please, if it’s no bother, some fresh air would be good.”

Wyatt rose and went to the window. He drew the curtains aside and lifted the sash. “Do you think you should come over here where you can take advantage of it?”

She wasn’t sure she would be steady on her feet. As a compromise, she shifted in her chair so she was angled toward the open window. “I’ll be fine sitting here.”

Wyatt didn’t argue the point, but he made another offer. “I can’t make you anything to drink here, but I can go downstairs and get you coffee. Sam Walker—that’s one of Sid’s boys—always has some brewing in the land office.”

“No, really, I’m fine. I don’t need anything.”

Wyatt wasn’t convinced, but then his view of her pale features was not the one she had. He returned to his seat. “I haven’t yet explained about the timing of all of this,” he said. “Are you certain you want to hear it now?”

“I’m quite certain I don’t,” she said, “but I can’t imagine that changing, so you might as well tell me while I’m sitting down.”

Honesty and a thread of humor ran through her words. Wyatt appreciated both. “As I mentioned,” he said. “The timeline is implied. Once control of the C & C passes to Foster, the spur to Reidsville—that includes the land, the depot in town, and the two main engines, six helper units, and twelve freight cars that regularly make the run—will become part of his holdings. That takes more time than you think. There’s upwards of three weeks before all of that’s finalized and made public.”

“Three weeks?” A breath hitched in Rachel’s throat. “That’s no time at all.”

“I understand that’s true from your perspective. To Foster, though, it will seem like an eternity. That’s the way his grandfather wanted it. He placed certain conditions in his will that will slow the process of Foster taking actual ownership. For instance, Foster has to demonstrate that he has the support of three of the five largest financial institutions in California by securing loans to expand C & C to the Northwest.”

“He’ll hate that.”

“No doubt, but if he wants full control, he’ll have to answer to Maddox’s lawyers or risk having to share control with a board of directors.”

“He’ll waste time, digging in his heels.”

“That’s why I said there’s upwards of three weeks.”

Rachel considered that; then her regard turned suspicious. “You had a hand in drafting Mr. Maddox’s will, didn’t you? You couldn’t know some of this without having seen it.”

“Not a whole hand,” he said. “A couple of fingers. When he knew what he wanted to do about the mine and the spur, that’s when he requested some assistance from me. His lawyers did the lion’s share, and I wasn’t privy to the final document.”

“Then you can’t be sure it was written up the way you suggested.”

“You knew him. Did he ever back away from his word?”

Rachel didn’t have to think about it. “No,” she said quietly. “He never did.”

“There you go.”

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t mislead me. He promised me that I would be cared for, and you and I are talking now because this is his crazy quilt way of keeping his word. Admit it, Sheriff, this is just about the most peculiar and preposterous thing that’s ever been proposed.”

“Wyatt,” he said mildly. “And you sure have a gift for alliteration.”

Rachel sighed. She had to admit he had a knack for settling her nerves. It was proving to be a good thing, since he was also the one who jangled them. She stared down at her hands in her lap and finished collecting herself. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Understandable.”

“I don’t want the town to suffer.”

“I never imagined that you would.”

She nodded almost imperceptibly. “I like the people I’ve met here. I know I haven’t gone out of my way to be sociable, but no one’s held it against me. Whenever I’ve stepped out, I’ve been welcomed.”

“Live and let live. That’d be what passes for common sense around here.”

Rachel turned her head and glanced at him. “Maybe. And maybe that’s your influence.”

“Nope. That’d be my father’s legacy.”

And he was his father’s son. She didn’t want to cite the commonalities. Instead, she said, “I’ve noticed that not many strangers arrive to settle here. They pay a visit to the hotel, test the card play, see what recommends the town to its inhabitants, but they don’t stay. I may well be the last new person to come to Reidsville and put down roots. And that was fifteen, almost sixteen, months ago.”

“Could be you’re right. I’d have to think about it.”

She knew very well that he didn’t have to give it any thought at all. He was aware of everything that happened in the town—sooner or later. “Reidsville is a bit of a secret, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you mean. We’re on all the maps drawn up in the last twenty-five years. We have a regular train run, a telegraph line, and a first-rate hotel with hot and cold running water that advertises in the Denver papers. People come and go all the time.”

“But they go. I don’t think staying is encouraged.” She didn’t expect him to answer, and he didn’t. “It’s all right. I think it has something to do with the mine, so I’ll just leave it at that.”

“All right,” Wyatt said agreeably. “Suit yourself.”

Rachel gathered the documents into an orderly stack and took her time reviewing them yet again. She was aware of Wyatt’s extraordinary patience with her; then she forgot about him entirely as she delved through the partnership agreement.

When she finished, she passed the papers to him and rested her folded hands on the table. “If I marry you, does it mean that my share of the mine becomes your share?”

“No. At least it doesn’t have to. You can choose anyone you like to draw up the papers so you can trust that your interests are protected.”

“What about my other property? You told me I owned the house outright. Does it become yours?”

“I don’t want it.”

“That isn’t what I asked. Does marriage in this state make it yours?”

“It doesn’t have to. You can make provisions to see that it doesn’t. The laws here allow for it.”

“You know that for a fact?”

“I looked it up.” He shrugged. “In your place, it’s something I would want to know. You might not realize it, but Colorado only entered the union six years ago. The general assembly was a bit more forward thinking when it drafted its constitution and started setting its laws.”

“Can I vote?”

“No.”

She snorted delicately. “Then you’re not as progressive as Wyoming, and it’s still a territory.”

Careful to reveal none of the humor he found in her chastisement, he said, “I stand corrected.”

Rachel waved that aside as unimportant. “I have some money in the bank, almost all of it from Mr. Maddox, and I want to be sure it remains in my control.”

“Of course. It’s part of your holdings. Drawing this up won’t be hard to do, since I won’t be arguing any point of it.”

She considered that. “So, if I understand what you’re telling me, what belongs to me now will still belong to me after marriage.”

“With the proper documents in place, yes.”

“And, by the same token, you can retain what is yours.”

Wyatt didn’t answer immediately. He had a feeling she was about to make a move that he hadn’t anticipated. Wariness made the skin at the back of his neck tingle. “Yes,” he said slowly. “I suppose I could arrange to keep what belongs to me now.”

“Just like with the mine,” she said, “we wouldn’t be compelled to combine our property.”

“Well, yes, but—” He stopped because she was shaking her head sharply and had leaned toward him a fraction to lend emphasis to her appeal.

“Hear me out,” she said quickly. “It could be a partnership. A marriage in name, but a partnership in fact. There’s no reason we couldn’t live entirely separately. It meets the requirements set forth by Mr. Maddox, and—”

“But not the intent,” said Wyatt.

“Perhaps not,” she conceded, “but it follows to the letter the terms he laid out, and right now that’s about as much control over my life as I’m willing to surrender.”

Wyatt heard her voice tremble at the end with the passion she felt for her argument. He saw that she must have heard it, too, because she took a slow, deep breath and took pains to let it out in measured beats. Her eyes were made suddenly luminous by a wash of tears that only her hard resolve kept at bay.

“You seem like you’re a good man, Sher—” She caught herself. “Wyatt,” she amended. “I don’t know anyone who doesn’t think you do right by them. Your willingness to enter into that agreement with Mr. Maddox proves it. You’d sacrifice your own chance to meet someone in a more traditional manner, court her properly, and settle down to—”

“I was married before,” he said quietly, cutting her off. He held her surprised, slightly wounded gaze and was reminded that for all her sharp wit and determination, this business had left her fragile. “I wouldn’t have let you sign anything without knowing. I just didn’t figure I would be telling you now.”

Rachel pressed her fingertips together and offered up an apologetic, mildly embarrassed smile. “I should have known.”

“I don’t know why you think that.”

“I’m not going to place a dozen compliments in easy reach of you.”

One corner of his mouth lifted a fraction. “Fair enough.”

“Thank you for telling me, though. It doesn’t really change anything, but it’s nice to know something about you since you seem to know so much about me.”

“I didn’t choose to tell you now because you needed to know on general principle. I told you because it
does
change things.”

“I don’t see how.”

“I’m not making a sacrifice,” he said. “I met my wife in the traditional way. I fell in love, courted her, proposed, married, and…” He paused, surprised that he could still be moved off center by the sudden, powerful tug of memories. “And settled down.”

Rachel continued to regard him expectantly, but after a few moments, she realized he’d said all he intended to on the matter. “But you’re not married any longer.”

“No. She died. It was seven years ago first of the month.”

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded curtly. “It’s the past.”

Not from where Rachel was sitting. She’d glimpsed a hollowness in his eyes, and although he recovered quickly, banishing it thoroughly, she knew what she had seen. There was still emptiness there. It was not lost on her that he’d signed Mr. Maddox’s proposal not long after his wife died. He couldn’t have been thinking clearly—and perhaps he still wasn’t—all his opinions to the contrary. “So you’re telling me that you don’t need—or want—another opportunity to find a wife of your own choosing.”