Maggie gave her husband, Ace, a pointed look. “I’ve heard that one before,” she said dryly.
Familiar with the story of Ace’s fall from a horse and his refusal to allow Maggie to take him to the doctor, everyone shared a laugh at Ace’s expense.
“Laugh all you want,” Ace said grumpily. “But a man who can’t take a tumble from a horse, without running to some sawbones to get patched up, isn’t much of a man. Right, Whit?”
Whit glanced around the table. With two doctors and two nurses waiting expectantly for his answer, he decided discretion was the better part of valor. “Whatever you say, Ace.”
“Coward,” Rory said out of the corner of his mouth.
“I’ve already got one bruise,” Whit told him. “I’m not looking for another.”
With a rueful shake of his head, Rory returned to his meal.
“Looks like the lawyers are going to have the old man’s estate ready to settle in a couple of weeks,” Ace said. “We’ll need to pick a time we can all meet to sign the necessary papers.”
A discussion followed, but Whit tuned it out and focused on his meal. Although Ace had told him he would inherit a fifth of the old man’s estate, the same as the rest of his stepbrothers, Whit had informed Ace that he wanted no part of anything that was Buck’s.
“What about you, Whit?” Ace asked. “Is May 29 at two all right with you?”
Caught with his fork halfway to his mouth, Whit glanced around the table and found everyone looking at him expectantly. He slowly lowered the fork to his plate. “I already told y’all I don’t want any part of Buck’s estate.”
“And we understand your reasons for feeling that way,” Ace assured him. “But you’re getting an equal share the same as the rest of us, whether you want it or not.”
“You know damned good and well that if Buck had left a will, he wouldn’t have named me in it,” Whit said.
“That may be true,” Ace conceded. “But there’s a strong chance he wouldn’t have named us, either, since he wasn’t on speaking terms with any of his offspring at the time of his death. Since he didn’t leave a will, the law requires that his estate be divided equally among his children.”
“I’m not one of his children,” Whit reminded him.
“By law you are. I have the adoption papers to prove it.”
Whit slumped back in his chair. “Come on, Ace,” he said in frustration. “Can’t you just tell the lawyers to cut me out?”
Ace opened his hands in a helpless gesture. “Sorry, the law is the law. And without your signature,” he added, “the estate can’t be settled, nor can the assets be awarded.” Knowing he’d put Whit on the spot, he reared back smugly in his chair. “So, how does May 29 at two work for you to meet and sign the papers?”
Scowling, Whit stabbed his fork into his steak. “I’ll sign whatever papers are necessary, but I’ll never touch a cent of Buck’s money.”
“That’s your prerogative,” Rory said, then quickly changed the subject. “So what was Melissa doing over at your house the other day?”
His frown deepening, Whit cut into his steak. “She wanted me to break a horse for her.”
“Melissa Jacobs?” Elizabeth, Woodrow’s wife, asked curiously.
“One and the same,” Rory replied, then gave Whit a speculative look. “Didn’t the two of you use to date?”
Whit stiffened, unaware that Rory—or anyone else, for that matter—had known that he’d dated Melissa. Breaking open a roll, he lifted his shoulder in what he hoped came across as an indifferent shrug. “We went out for a while.”
“Really?” Ace said. “I didn’t know Melissa ever dated anyone other than Matt.”
And you could’ve gone on thinking that, Whit thought resentfully, if Rory had kept his dang mouth shut.
Avoiding Ace’s gaze, he slathered his roll with butter. “Like I said, it was only for a while.”
Elizabeth shook her head sadly. “I don’t know Melissa all that well, but I feel so sorry for her. Losing a husband in such a tragic accident is bad enough, but to discover that he has left you penniless must be awful.”
Whit slowly lowered his knife to his plate and stared at Elizabeth. “Matt left Melissa broke?”
Elizabeth glanced uneasily at the others at the table. “Well, yes. At least, that’s what I heard. I assumed it was true.”
“It’s true enough,” Woodrow confirmed. “Dillon Phillips bought a plow from her last week. Said he got it for a good price as she needed the money to make her mortgage.”
Whit snorted a breath and picked up his fork. “If that’s the story she gave him, she was feeding him a line of bull. There’s no mortgage on that property. I know for a fact that Matt inherited the farm free and clear from his granddaddy.” He scooped up a forkful of potatoes, then added, “But even if it was true she was broke, Melissa wouldn’t have to sell off assets to make her note. Mike would give her whatever she needed.”
Macy held up a hand. “Wait a minute. You’ve lost me. Who is Mike and what does he have to do with Melissa?”
“Mike’s Melissa’s father,” Rory explained. “Lives over in Lampasas. He and Buck were old running buddies. With Buck gone now, Mike’s probably the single most wealthy man around these parts.”
“If that’s the case,” Macy said, “then it would seem that she’d ask her father for money, if she truly needed it.”
“Not necessarily.”
When everyone turned to look at Kayla, she lifted her hands. “Heck, I wouldn’t. It’s a matter of pride.”
Ry gave his wife’s arm an indulgent pat. “Yes, dear. We’re all familiar with your pride.”
“Kayla may have a point,” Rory said in his sister-in-law’s defense. “If you think about it, it’s the only explanation that makes any sense. As I recall, Melissa and Mike butted heads a lot while she was growing up.”
“I can vouch for that,” Ace agreed. “I remember more than once hearing Mike complain to Buck about Melissa being stubborn as a mule.”
“Then it’s unlikely that she would go to her father for help,” Elizabeth said, then shook her head sadly. “And that makes me feel even more sorry for her. At a time like this, a woman needs the support of her family.”
Whit swallowed hard. He knew from personal experience that Rory’s and Ace’s comments about Mike and Melissa butting heads were true. Mike was a hard man to get along with under any circumstances, but the level of control he’d tried to wield over his only daughter would have made even the most docile of individuals fight at the chains he kept her bound with.
And Elizabeth was right, as well. Considering Melissa’s past relationship with her father, it seemed unlikely that she would turn to him in her time of need.
But if she couldn’t go to her father for help, he wondered, who could she go to?
He wiped a shaky hand down his mouth, remembering her visit to his place and the desperation in her voice, when she’d asked him to train the horse.
And how had he responded to her plea for help?
He’d not only refused, he’d ordered her off his land.
He quickly shook off the guilt that tried to settle on his shoulders. He wouldn’t feel badly about the way he’d treated Melissa. Hell,