Page 28 of Rawhide and Ransom

He smiled at her words, which nearly made her pass out. She’d never seen him smile before. “You don’t smile very often, do you?”

“I haven’t had many reasons to.” He reached up to touch her cheek, making her feel even richer. Then he gave her a gentle nudge toward the room number the receptionist had given them. “I’ll be right here,” he promised, making no move to retrace his steps toward the waiting room.

“Thank you.” She mouthed the words to him before facing the door. Taking a deep breath, she knocked.

A grumbling sound met her ears. She couldn’t make out what the man said, but it was proof that someone was in the room. She turned the door handle and pushed open the door before she lost her nerve. Because her insides were all a-jitter, she left the door wide open after she stepped inside.

The curtains to the only window were pulled shut, plunging the room into shadows. She could see the outline of a man in the bed — a tall, too-thin, dried-up corncob of a man who would soon exit the earth if the Lord didn’t intervene.

“Shut the door,” he barked.

“I prefer to leave it open.” She stepped farther into the room without giving in to his demand. “Thank you for understanding.”

A second figure materialized from the shadows and moved toward the door.

“He said to shut it, my dear.” It was a woman, but she was wearing such a wide hat brim over her eyes that it was impossible to make out her features. She click-clacked in a pair of high heels to the door and gave it a shove. Or tried to.

It didn’t budge.

Hawk’s voice drifted their way. “Annalee said she preferred to keep the door open, so it stays open.” He sounded as unmoving as the Rock of Gibraltar.

The stranger in the hat gave a huff of rage and melted back into the shadows.

“Did you come to gloat?” the man in the bed snarled. “You killed my son, and now you’ve come to watch me die, too, eh?”

Annalee was taken aback by his verbal lashing. She shouldn’t have been, but she was. “Chayton died from a heart attack, sir.” Her voice cracked with emotion. She still couldn’t believe it herself. He’d been as healthy as a horse one day and gone the next.

“You took him from me more than once.” Ace Dakota didn’t sound like he was in a forgiving mood. “When I threatened to disinherit him, he married you anyway. And now he’s dead.” His voice rose to a brittle, accusing note.

Though he was being unfair, it was impossible to miss the underlying anguish that was also present in his voice.

“I’m sorry for your loss, sir, and I’m sorry for what you’re suffering now.” Knowing Hawk was nearby gave her the confidence to move closer to his bed. “Please know that Running Bear is praying for you, and so am I.”

Ace was silent for a moment. “I heard you were in an accident. My wife said you were as good as dead.”

“Now, Ace! Those were not my exact words,” the woman in the shadows piped up, telling Annalee she was in the presence of none other than Ace’s second wife. If anything, Rosamund Dakota was even more hateful than the man she’d married.

Annalee turned toward Rosamund’s voice but still couldn’t see her features clearly. She’d never had much interaction with the woman. The only thing she really knew about her was that she was a burn victim. Nearly the whole time she’d been married to Ace, Rosamund had been in the hospital undergoing one cosmetic surgery after another in an attempt to restore her original beauty.

“I’m glad you survived your accident.” There was something in Rosamund’s tone that made Annalee wonder if she’d been hoping for the opposite result.

“My recovery has been a long, slow process, ma’am.”

“And then some,” Rosamund agreed in a hard voice. “I heard you lost your farm, too.” It was a blunt statement that wasn’t followed by an expression of sympathy or offer of assistance. “I’d wondered where you and your daughter had taken off to, and now I know.”

Annalee quelled a shiver, not enamored by the idea of Rosamund knowing her whereabouts. Then she straightened her shoulders.Who cares?Hawk wasn’t going to let anything bad happen to her now or later.

It was possible Rosamund was just holding up her end of their awkward conversation, something Annalee probably needed to try a little harder to do.

“How’s Edward, ma’am?” Edward was Rosamund’s son by her first marriage.

“Still in a wheelchair.” Rosamund bit out the words so viciously that Annalee recoiled.

“Wheelchair or not, he’s single-handedly running Dakota Farm now.” Ace’s voice lost some of its venom. He sounded genuinely proud of his stepson. He’d formally adopted the boy years ago, right after he’d disinherited the only son who carried his blood. It had felt like a cruel move at the time, but it no longer mattered. Chayton wasn’t here to challenge his father’s last will and testament in court, nor would he have done so if he’d lived to see this dismal day.

“I’m glad you have his help, sir.” It took a superhuman effort for Annalee to swallow her hurt and pride, but she succeeded.

“His help?” Rosamund’s voice rose shrilly. “His help? You say that like he’s some ten-cent-an-hour farm hand. Well, he’s not!” Her voice took on an Arctic chill. “Dakota Farm will soon belong to Edward. Every acre. Every building and piece of farm equipment. Every animal.”

---