“Come on, Summer,” Frank chided in a charming voice—for the sake of the judge, no doubt. “I’ve told you time and again the land is worth far more than those cows of yours can bring in. Would you climb off your high horse long enough to listen? Maybe then you’ll give me credit for knowing more than your precious dad. Bart refused to even discuss how much the ranch would bring if we sold the land.”
Grinding her back teeth, Summer barely held her anger in check.
“Dammit, I hate it when you clam up, and you do that on purpose.” No longer charming, Frank delivered her an angry look. “I told Perry you haven’t got a clue that we’ve entered a new millennium. Hell, you don’t even know how to dress for a meeting like this. Your blouse—are you trying to embarrass me, showing up looking like you’ve been wrestling steers?”
“An eagle, Frank. I wrestled a full-grown eagle into the trailer. It was shot by some of your city pals, out for sport. Sorry I’m not up to your fashion standards,” she said contemptuously. “With luck, Doc Holder will save the bird so she can raise her young. They’re an endangered species, Frank. And according to you, so are women like me.” Her hazel eyes glittered in the heat of the moment.
The judge rapped again. “Shall we leave personalities aside? We’re here to discuss property. Mr. Marsh…since the divorce, what do you do?” The judge studied a paper.
“Do?” Frank seemed taken aback.
“Yes,” Atherton returned mildly. “Do, as in work. As in…occupation?”
Frank adjusted the padded shoulders of his designer suit. Face florid, he fingered the knot on his silk tie.
“That question appears to have stumped you.” The judge thumbed through a copy of the divorce decree. “It says…Judge Davis ordered Mrs. Marsh to pay you two thousand dollars a month in support. And although you apparently share custody of a minor child, Mrs. Marsh is charged with paying one hundred percent of his care?” Atherton glanced up, pinning Frank with the forthright question.
Summer closed her eyes. Until fall roundup, she had barely enough in the ranch emergency account to pay Frank the required monthly stipend. And if beef prices dropped a cent a pound as was rumored, her ledgers would be riding a fine line between the black and the red until well after spring calving. Was this judge going to raise the amount she had to pay Frank?
“Your Honor,” Perry Blake interrupted, looking uneasy. “Surely you realize the Forked Lightning Ranch provided my client’s only income. Mr. Marsh left a good job to marry the ex-Mrs. Marsh. However, Mr. Adams’s development company has offered him a management position once the resort is built. A facility of this size— I can get you a prospectus if you’d like—will put many of the valley’s unemployed to work again. But that’s all in the future, of course.”
Summer kept her expression impassive, although her heart plummeted to her feet. Her suspicion had been correct. There was a high-paying job at stake, in addition to whatever Frank—and Jill—would make from the sale. The judge ignored Perry. “Mr. Marsh, I’m very familiar with my county. The address you currently list commands the highest rent around. Do you have a source of income not named in this brief?”
Frank blanched, and deferred the query to his attorney.
This time Blake shifted uncomfortably. “Your Honor, Mr. Marsh…uh…resides with his fiancée. She’s one of the area’s top Realtors. It’s her address you have there.”
“Fiancée?” Atherton rocked in his chair and toyed with his pencil. “So, is Ms. Gardner present during your son’s visitations?”
Summer stiffened suddenly. Frank hadn’t asked to visit with Rory since the divorce. She’d left messages on his voice mail, begging him to call Rory, who still felt confused and angry at her over his dad’s departure from home. Thus far, her messages had been ignored.
“Jill collects antiques,” Frank blurted, cracking his knuckles.
Everyone at the table, including Frank’s own attorney, seemed unable to make a connection.
“They’re expensive,” Frank said. “Jill’s condo isn’t an appropriate place for a boy used to cavorting outside. But after this deal goes through and Jill and I marry, we’re going to build a much larger home. Then Rory will have a room of his own,” Frank finished lamely as all eyes remained fixed on him.
Judge Atherton rolled a pencil between his palms. He finally pulled a yellow legal pad from under the pile of papers and began to scribble notes. After jotting several sentences, he stopped, capped his pen and sent Frank and his attorney a frosty glare. “I’ve reached a decision.”
Everyone except Larkin Crosley leaned in to hear. Crosley didn’t move until Summer tugged him forward, quietly repeating Atherton’s words.
The judge laced his hands together over a buttoned vest. “I’m allowing Mrs. Marsh six months to try and come up with the $3.8 million dollars it will take to buy out Mr. Marsh’s interest in this property.” He tapped a bony finger on the map Perry had passed around. “I’ll have the court secretary set a new date to meet again in April. You’ll all be notified as to when and where we’ll reconvene. At the April meeting, I’ll check Mrs. Marsh’s progress and either render a final decision, or revisit options set forth by the lower court. Until then, this hearing is adjourned.” Rising, he made a neat stack of his papers and picked them up before leaving.
Numb with joy and yet partially filled with dread, Summer tried to explain to Larkin the reprieve Atherton had decreed.
She’d barely gotten a word out when Frank bounded up, knocking over his chair. “April? What in hell am I supposed to do for six months?”
The judge, who’d reached the door to his private chambers, turned. “If that’s an honest question, Mr. Marsh, my suggestion is get a job. And set regular visits with your son. Money can’t replace a man’s bond with his children.” With that, Atherton disappeared.
Frank immediately turned his wrath on Summer. “You. You got to the crazy old coot.” He shook a forefinger in her face.
“That’s absurd, Frank. I’ve never laid eyes on the judge.”
Perry Blake gripped Frank’s arm. “Take it easy. Shouting won’t change the verdict. Six months isn’t so long. Adams will understand a slight delay. You can’t possibly think Summer could raise that kind of money, even if she had six years. Come on,” he muttered in an undertone. “Let’s go have a drink, and draft a letter to Ed.”
Frank shook off his lawyer’s hand. Once again he rearranged his jacket. “Don’t think you’ve heard the last of me, Summer. There are other courts and other judges. Other ways to force your hand.”
“Don’t threaten me, Frank. Because of your infidelities, I’ve endured total humiliation in a town my great-grandfather built. Your idle threats roll off me like water off a slicker.”
“Idle?” His smile turned cold. “To come up with anywhere near your half of seven million, you’d have to sell every cow on the ranch…including strays. And that’s assuming you can manage to get them to market on your own.”
“What do you mean, on my own? I have the same crew I’ve always had.”
Tossing back a lock of blond hair, Frank merely clenched his fists and stalked from the room.
She reached around Larkin, snagging Perry’s sleeve. “I won’t underestimate Frank again,” she told him. “It’s taken me a while to realize he’s capable of double dealing. But if there’s so much as a hint of trouble on the Forked Lightning, I’ll know who to look for.”
“Now, Summer. Frank’s understandably upset. He obviously hasn’t stopped to calculate how many