The door opened, and his secretary nodded. “Mr. Davis is here to see you, sir.”
“Show him in.” Lifting his chin, he straightened his waistcoat and tie. It was a good thing the lawyer came as quick as he did.
“Mr. Reynolds.” The mouse of a man entered and skittered into a chair. “I received your message.”
Judas walked back behind his desk and took a seat. “You’re the family lawyer for Mr. Bundrant?”
The man rolled his eyes. “You know I am. And I’m quite certain you’ve been informed of his death. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have sent for me.”
“That’s indeed why I asked you here.” He took his time and folded his hands on the desk in front of him. “Let me remind you of the debts that you owe, Mr. Davis. Debts in which you are delinquent because I hear you have a bit of a gambling problem. . . .” He let the words strike their mark.
Samuel Davis squirmed in his chair and looked everywhere but at Judas. “What do you want to know?” He stuck a finger in between his lips and began chewing on the nail.
“The terms of Chuck’s will. How much is his fortune, and where is it?”
Davis shrugged and shifted in the chair. Was the man sitting on a tack? “I don’t know the total of his fortune. He didn’t put any of that into writing, and he definitely didn’t put it in the bank. But I can tell you he split his property and everything he had between his three granddaughters. Originally, it was between his daughter and the granddaughters, but after Melissa died, he asked me to update the will, which I did. That’s all I know.”
Worthless fool. “I find that hard to believe.”
Davis held out both his hands. “I promise. That’s all I know. I’ve only seen Chuck once in the past year. You know how secretive he was.”
Leaning back in his chair, Judas examined the man. “Fine. You can go. But not a word of this to anyone.”
Davis stood and rushed out of the room. Judas would have to deal with the debts later. For now, he might still have a use for the lawyer.
Sad, really. The man had once been quite the upstanding citizen. Now look at him.
His secretary stood in the doorway. “Anything else, Mr. Reynolds?”
With a tap to his desk, he looked up. “Yes, arrange with the hothouse to deliver several bouquets out to the Bundrant farm. One for each of the ladies. Make sure there’s a personal card with each one that expresses my deepest condolences and sympathy. That if they need anything—anything at all—they need but ask.”
“Right away, sir.” She pulled the door closed as she left.
He turned his chair to stare out the window. What he needed was leverage. For all that Chuck kept things close to the vest, Judas had managed to wriggle his way into the man’s good graces. The whole family considered him a close friend. Truth be told, his relationship with Chuck had been the longest-standing so-called friendship he’d ever managed. Probably because he had no use for anyone once he’d attained what he wanted from them. Easy enough to make useless people disappear over the years, and no one was the wiser.
But Bundrant had managed to keep him at a distance where his finances were concerned. Judas hadn’t been deterred. Indeed, he’d risen to the challenge of capturing Chuck’s fortune. Nothing like a good contest to get the blood flowing.
But things had changed the past year. Havyn married John Roselli, whose grandfather had been close friends with Chuck. John seemed as righteous as they came. Then Madysen married Daniel Beaufort. While Beaufort had a past, he’d shown that he’d changed. Of course, Daniel’s father owed Judas a great deal of money, but that didn’t help him get his hands on the Bundrant farm.
Then there was the eldest Powell sister . . . Whitney. Still unmarried.
A thought about how he might use her had flitted through his mind once before, but he’d brushed it off after watching her reaction to Sinclair. Now? Maybe it was a good time to revisit the idea.
There was a good deal of age difference between him and Whitney . . . but that didn’t matter in this day and age. Besides, she trusted him. After all, he came to her rescue in the Sinclair incident. He’d stepped in when Sinclair spread rumors about Whitney after he attacked her, making the man admit, in front of the entire town on multiple occasions, that he’d lied. So Whitney owed Judas for restoring her reputation. Now that enough time had passed, he could remind her that he was her knight in shining armor.
He allowed a smile. It was about time he settled down and took a wife. Whitney was no-nonsense. Business minded. Not to mention beautiful. The choice couldn’t be a better one.
He’d always wanted a son to carry on his name. To be remembered.
Maybe it was a good time to pursue more of a political career. With an upstanding bride by his side, he couldn’t lose. Not that anyone in this town would ever go against him.
Standing up, he reached for his hat and coat.
Time to put the plan into motion.
After all, it was only right for him to call on the Bundrant family and express his deep sorrow in person.
Whitney climbed the small hill to the fenced-off family cemetery. Funny, when Granddad first worked on the area and told the family his plans for a cemetery, they thought it would be years before any of them would have need of it. Then life dealt them the blow of losing Mama.
With slow steps, she crested the hill and stared at the wooden cross in the center. The snow was deep. None of them had been up here for several weeks. There was a good chance she wouldn’t even be able to open the gate. But she could climb the fence, if need be.
Frozen in place, she continued to stare. This was not how life was supposed to go.
A tear slipped out and rolled its way down her cheek, making her feel the sting of the frigid temperature.
The cold forced her forward with a shiver as she wiped at the frozen streaks on her cheek with her mitten.
Over the fence and through the deep snow, she trudged toward that cross marking where they’d buried their mother just a few short months ago.
“Mama . . .” The name escaped on a whisper. Several heartbeats passed as she wrestled with her heart and mind. “I never understood why people spoke to the dead, but I guess it makes sense now. Makes it feel like maybe you’re not gone. Not really. Just for a little bit.”
The wind whipped her scarf into her face. She tugged her hat down a little lower and crossed her arms over her chest. “I feel like I’ve been wandering around in a fog without you. Didn’t realize how much I needed you until you weren’t here anymore.” Her throat threatened to close with the words. She shut her eyes and forced herself to stand tall.
She was supposed to be the strong one, wasn’t she? “The thing is, Mama . . . you were the one who held us together. You were the strong one. When I was young, I thought I had to fix things, but all along, you carried the load. So much more than any of us ever imagined. You protected us from the harsh realities of mining life. You did what you could to shelter us from the truth of what Daddy was—always talking about him in a positive way and telling us how much he loved us. No matter how many times he failed you . . . hurt you, you never spoke ill of him. For many years, I thought that made you weak. And that you allowed people to take advantage of you. But I was wrong.”