“Mr. Bryson. If you really want to help Miss Grainger, you need to understand…she’s pregnant.”
Chapter Four
“Good afternoon, Miss Grainger.” Jeffrey Kuhn stood in the doorway of his office and waved her over. His graying blond hair and green eyes were set off by the light gray tailored suit he wore.
Something about his tanned skin and broad shoulders didn’t fit the suit and tie. Having known the man for most of her life, Mona didn’t understand why, all of the sudden, she’d think Kuhn didn’t belong in the bank. “Hello, Mr. Kuhn.”
“If you’d step into my office, we have matters to discuss.”
“We do?” Mona had come to Prairie Rock to make the monthly mortgage payment on her land, not chat with the bank president. She had a lot of work to do back home. An uneasy twinge gripped her belly as if the baby tried to warn her something was amiss.
“Yes, we do.” He waited until she entered his office and then closed the door behind her.
If she’d known she was going to have a business meeting with the bank president she’d have worn something other than her usual jeans and denim shirt. Hell, she’d have left her hair loose instead of pulling it back into a juvenile ponytail. Mona resisted the urge to pat the dust off her clothing before she took the seat opposite the banker, a massive mahogany desk between them. “What is it you wanted to discuss?”
He stared at her for several seconds before beginning, as if sizing her up. “I understand you’ve had troubles out at the Rancho Linda?”
Mona fought to keep her expression blank. Cattle rustling in the area couldn’t be kept a secret. Not when everyone knew everyone’s business and the sheriff’s blotter in the local newspaper was the highlight of the week. “Nothing we can’t handle.” She hoped. The rustlers had to slip up soon and be caught. Preferably before she went out of business.
“I couldn’t help but notice your advertisement in the local gazette for a ranch hand.” He planted his elbows on his desk and laced his fingers. “Or should I say, gun for hire?”
Mona sat up straighter. “Why do you ask?”
“As you well know, the bank has an interest in everything that goes on with their investments. If something were to happen to you or the ranch, we stand to lose money.”
“That’s true. But nothing is going to happen to me or the ranch.”
“We at the bank disagree.” He leaned forward. “Advertising a gun-for-hire only reinforced our opinion that you’re in over your head.”
Did the man think her stupid? Was he carrying a mouse in his pocket? “We, or you, Mr. Kuhn?” Mona stood, anger pushing her blood pressure skyward. Not good for the baby.
His brows rose and he eased to his feet. “The bank, of course. Not me personally.”
“Right.” Mona held out the check she’d come to deliver. “I came to make my mortgage payment.”
The man stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’m afraid that isn’t enough. You do realize your mortgage is on a seven-year adjustable-rate plan with a balloon note at the end, do you not?”
Mona stared at the banker for a full thirty seconds. She’d spent all of her time on the ranch in the saddle, not behind the desk. Her father handled the finances up until the day he died. When she took over, she’d only done what she had to do to make payments and keep money in the checking account. “No, I didn’t realize. What does it mean?”
Kuhn’s brows rose. “This is the end of the seven-year period. The balloon payment is due in less than thirty days.”
“It is?” She swallowed, her throat dry as a desert. “Can’t we roll it over into a fixed-rate loan?”
“I’m afraid not.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his face blank of all emotion. “The bank doesn’t consider you a good risk. You have thirty days to pay the balance in full or we begin foreclosure proceedings on the property.”
The ground threatened to open up and suck in Mona. With more than a little effort, she fought off that dizzy, fuzzy-headed feeling and the encroaching blackness. Instead of fainting, she squared her shoulders and faced Mr. Kuhn. “You can’t do that. We’ve done business with this bank ever since I can remember.” How much was left on the loan? Thirty, forty, fifty thousand? No way could she come up with that kind of money.
“I’m sorry, Miss Grainger, but the decision has been made.” He sat forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Have you considered selling the ranch to someone more…capable?”
Mona’s hackles rose. Even though she’d doubted her ability lately, she sure as hell wouldn’t let Mr. Kuhn know that. “I’m perfectly capable of managing the ranch on my own.”
“How about selling to one of the oil speculators here in town? I hear Lang Oil Exploration is acquiring property.”
Stealing, more likely. Everyone who’d sold to Lang Oil lately had gotten the shaft in some way or other. And not an oil-drilling shaft.
Plucking up enough anger to make her voice strong, Mona stood. “Rancho Linda is not for sale. And for your information, I’m every bit as capable as my father was to run it.”
“I’m afraid the bank doesn’t see it that way. I’m sorry, but we won’t be renewing your loan and we won’t accept less than the payoff amount of fifty thousand one hundred and twenty-six dollars. I’ll give you thirty days to comply.”
“Thirty days? You couldn’t give me a little more time to secure financing?” Her head spun with the amount of money she’d have to come up with. Even if she sold all her remaining cattle, she wouldn’t come close to the amount she needed, and she’d be out of stock, nothing to start over with, nothing to pay the overhead.
“You’ve had seven years. We sent a payment-due notice in your last statement. I’m really surprised you haven’t come in sooner to discuss this matter with me.”
He was lying and Mona wasn’t buying it. “I never saw it.”
Jeffrey Kuhn sat behind his desk, tapping the point of a pen against his date calendar. “Are you having trouble with your mail service as well as cattle rustling?”
“Do you think I’d get this upset if I had received the notice? Don’t you think I’d have been in here much earlier, had I known?” Granted, she hadn’t had time to go through all of what she’d thought was junk mail, but she’d opened and paid her bills. If there had been a note from the bank, she’d have opened it. “Damn it, I know I haven’t gotten a single letter from you.”
Mr. Kuhn’s gray-blond brows rose. “I can’t help it if your mail isn’t getting to you. The bank stands firm. I’m sorry, Miss Grainger, my hands are tied. Unless you can come up with the payoff amount in thirty days—” he leaned over to look at the desk calendar “—that would be on the twentieth of next month—the Prairie Rock Bank will have to start foreclosure proceedings on the property.”
“I’m not believing this.”
He shrugged. “I suggest you find another financial institution rather than filing for bankruptcy. You might also consider letting go of some of your help. Like your new hire.” He glanced down at his watch, then abruptly stood. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have another appointment.” He cupped her elbow with a cool, clammy palm and urged her from her chair, practically pushing her out the door.
Still too stunned to respond, Mona let him usher her out, stopping only as they emerged in the bank lobby. “Mr. Kuhn…” When she turned to confront her new nemesis, she could have stomped her foot in frustration.
Jeffrey Kuhn had left her standing alone while he smiled