It was also, Hank thought, the home in which Ally had grown up.
Not a smart move, criticizing it.
He looked over at her.
Ally’s face remained calm, her emotions-whatever they were-camouflaged. She climbed back down the ladder and wordlessly accepted the written offer Graham Penderson was holding out. With a forced smile, she walked over and put the papers on the scarred rolltop desk. “I’ll take that into consideration,” she stated cooly.
Graham Penderson did not seem to know when to quit. “If you sell to us,” he continued, “you won’t have to worry about updating anything on the property, since we intend to tear down all existing buildings, including the ranch house and barns, and build something much more utilitarian.”
Ally blinked.
She hadn’t been expecting that.
“That seems like a waste,” Hank interjected, in an effort to buy Ally time to pull her thoughts together.
The agent swung around to him. “It’s good business,” he countered matter-of-factly. He turned back to Ally. “The offer is good for forty-eight hours,” he said impatiently, holding his Resistol at his side.
“So you said.” Ally ignored the question in Hank’s eyes and gestured toward the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Penderson, I have work to do.”
The smart move, Hank noted, would have been to take the hint. The agent did no such thing.
“Not if you sell to Corporate Farms. Then, all you have to do is sign on the dotted line, take the money and run.”
Clearly unimpressed, Ally stared down the CF representative. “So you also said.”
Penderson stepped even closer. “I’d hate to see you lose out on what has to be the answer to your prayers.”
Ally remained grimly silent. Hank figured this was his cue, and walked toward the agent. “I believe the lady asked you to leave.”
Penderson turned. Whatever he was about to say was lost as Hank clapped a firm hand on the small man’s shoulder, physically propelling him across the living room, through the dingy foyer and all the way to his car. Hank waited until Penderson drove off, then went back inside. Ally was back on the ladder, spritzing a piece of the loose horse-and-hound wallpaper. If she resented his macho interference, she wasn’t showing it.
“You okay?” he asked gently.
Ally set the spray bottle on the platform at the top of the stepladder. Stubbornly pressing her lips together, she eased the putty knife beneath the paper. “Why wouldn’t I be?” The wallpaper made a ripping sound as it separated from the ancient drywall.
Hank stepped closer. He grabbed a piece of dampened paper and pulled it off the wall. “Because that jerk was giving you a hard time.”
Ally came back down the ladder, picked it up and moved it another two feet to the left. Resentment glimmered in her green eyes. “I was handling him.”
Hank stood with legs braced, as if for battle. “You may think you were.”
She stiffened. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Here was his chance to bring up what he’d been reluctant to discuss before. “Corporate Farms is more than just an outfit that buys ranches and farms nationwide, or a firm that is angling to create the largest single ranch in the nation. It has a reputation for ruining communities faster than you can imagine.”
Ally sobered. “How?”
“Well, first they come in with a lowball offer. Like what just happened. If they fail on the first try-and often they don’t-they up the ante. And they keep upping it until they get what they want. In fact, they’re happiest when they do have to pay more than the assessed value of a property, because that drives up the prices of all the neighboring ranches and farms, and with that, the tax values. A few acquisitions by CF coupled with a bad year agriculturally, and before you know it the neighbors can’t pay their taxes.”
“Go on,” Ally said quietly, suddenly a captive audience.
Hank sighed heavily. “So then Corporate Farms comes in again, and buys the properties in distress, this time for much less than what they’re worth. The point is, an outfit like CF has vast resources and can move awfully fast. You may not be prepared for how fast. Or the kind of temptation they can exert.” His eyes hardened. “Especially since word on the street is they want to eventually buy up every single ranch property in Laramie County and turn it into one big entity.”
Ally regarded him calmly. “So in other words, I shouldn’t sell to them because they’re bad guys. And they’re likely to put everyone else around here out of business if I do.”
“Exactly,” he muttered.
“Which is why your dad was here this morning.”
Her insight caught Hank off guard. “That was part of it,” he allowed cautiously.
She stepped closer. “And the rest?”
Hank’s jaw set. “It’s not relevant to this.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Why don’t you let me decide that? Seriously. You want me to trust you? Then you need to reveal more about what’s going on with your situation, too!”
Fair enough. “My parents think I need their help to succeed.”
Ally let out a disbelieving laugh. “You? The guy who was Mr. Everything in high school? Student body president, star athelete, class heartthrob-”
Hank focused on the most important of the litany. “Class heartthrob?” he repeated. Was that how she’d seen him back then?
Ally flushed. “Never mind. Forget I said that.” She drew a breath and settled on a step of the ladder, turning businesslike once again. “Back to your very implausible story.”
Hank’s gut twisted with the irony. “It’s true,” he said, just as quietly. He edged close enough to rest an elbow on the top rung of the ladder. “My parents think I flipped out after Jo-anne’s death. That was why I joined the marines and stayed in for ten years.”
Ally tilted her head to look up into his face. “Was it the reason?”
His voice was edgy with tension as he answered, “I admit I was depressed and angry after she died. You can’t not be if one of your loved ones dies in something as senseless and unexpected as a terrorist attack. But…” He paused reflectively, then shrugged. “I got over it.”
The tenderness in Ally’s eyes encouraged him to dig a little deeper into his feelings. “I grew up, I guess, came to accept that bad things happen in life to everyone. And what counts is your ability to pick yourself up and make something good happen-even in the worst circumstances-and move on. And that’s what my career in the marines was all about. I helped save a lot of lives. Now I’m out…and ready to move on with the next chapter of my life.”
Ally stood and moved away from the ladder once again. “But your mom and dad can’t accept that.”
He watched her amble back to the wall where she had been working, and spritz an area within reach.
Hank picked up a scraper and walked over to help. “My parents blame themselves for my taking off in the first place. They think they failed me somehow, after Jo-anne died. They don’t want to be caught short again. And they’re afraid if this ranching thing doesn’t work out, I’m going to leave again.”
For a second, a flash of alarm appeared in her eyes. “Will you?”
Was it possible, Hank wondered, she wanted him to stay around, as much as he was beginning to want her to do the same? “No. Texas is my home and always will be. That’s one thing I figured out while I was overseas.”
She scowled at the piece of wall covering she was working on, then tilted her head up to his. “When you say Texas,” she murmured, looking at him from beneath her fringe of thick lashes, “do you mean Laramie, or anywhere in the state?”
“I got a hundred head of cattle, and I have to find somewhere of my own to graze them.” At the moment, Mesquite Ridge was the only ranch available for lease or sale in Laramie County.