He’d thought maybe helping Nancy learn about ranching would be enough to salve his conscience. It seemed now that the bank would never be satisfied with her skills. Like his father, they had a narrow view of life, and only a man running a ranch gave them any confidence. He had a feeling that even if he introduced them to Lula May Barlow, they’d point to her stepsons as the brains behind the ranch’s success. They’d be wrong, but no amount of talking was going to change their minds.
Only action would do that.
The banker recovered first now. “A poor jest, sir,” he said with a heavy shake of his head. “It is never politic to make light of a lady’s loss. And I’m certain Mrs. Bennett is too soon a widow to wish to take up with another gentleman.”
The way he said the word gentleman told Hank the banker thought no cowboy could live up to the name. He couldn’t argue in his case. He wasn’t Lucas Bennett with a shiny reputation and a fancy spread. But that shiny reputation had become tarnished, and the spread was crying out for someone who actually cared. He could be that person.
“That’s for Mrs. Bennett to say,” Hank replied, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops and casting a glance at the lady in question. What he saw wasn’t encouraging. She had managed to close her mouth, but now her lips were shut so tight honey wouldn’t have squeezed past.
Cramore waved a hand. “Can’t you see you’ve put her in an impossible position? It’s clear the bank must step in. I will appoint someone to run the ranch for her, until such time as the loan is paid in full.”
Nancy stood to move between them, face pale but head high. When she spoke, her usually soft voice had a firm edge to it. “That will not be necessary, sir. I can make my own decisions, in matters of this ranch and in matters of my heart. Will you excuse us for a moment?” Setting aside some papers, she nodded to Hank and practically ran down the steps.
“This isn’t a matter of the heart, Nancy,” Hank hastened to tell her as he followed her toward the corral. “This is a matter of the future, yours and the baby’s.”
She stopped next to the buggy, back toward the porch and gaze holding his. “I know that, Hank. But I will not have you sacrifice yourself for us.”
Hank shook his head. “Not much of a sacrifice, if you ask me. I was working here anyway.”
She cringed, and he realized how that had sounded.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean that marrying you would be a chore. And I surely see that you’ll get a number of offers once you’ve put off your widow’s black. But you need help now, and it sounds like the bank won’t accept a hired hand in that role.”
She stared out over the corral. “But marriage? I just buried my husband.”
His gut bunched at the memory. “I know. But I also know you’re going to be too busy soon to run a ranch. And that baby will need a father.”
Tears were gathering in her eyes again, turning the hazel green as spring. “That’s true,” she murmured. “But I’m not ready to be a wife.”
“And I’m none too ready to be a husband,” he assured her. “But I made you a promise, and I intend to keep it.”
When she didn’t answer, he leaned closer, determined to make her understand. “The way I figure it, we just have to show the bank we’re both serious about the success of this ranch. We don’t have to act like husband and wife otherwise. I can sleep in the barn like I usually do, take my meals with Upkins and Jenks. Nothing has to change. You and the baby will just get the protection of my name.”
The tears were falling now; he could see them tracking down her pearly skin. “Oh, Hank, that’s so kind of you. I don’t know what to say.”
Kindness wasn’t his reason, but he didn’t correct her.
“Just think on it,” he urged, fisting his hands to keep from wiping the tears from her cheeks. “And I’ll understand if you’d rather find a better fellow than me.”
She turned then and stood on tiptoe to press a kiss against his cheek. “I’m beginning to think there is no finer fellow than you,” she murmured. Then she ducked her head and hurried for the house.
He touched his cheek, feeling as if his skin had warmed. He knew there were plenty of fellows willing to marry a pretty widow in possession of a ranch, baby and all. But none of them had his need to make amends.
Still, he had little doubt what her answer would be if she knew he was the one who had killed her husband.
Nancy’s mind was still reeling as she returned to the porch, where Mr. Cramore stood waiting. The portly banker looked as nervous as she felt, shifting back and forth on his dusty patent leather shoes.
“Well, Mrs. Bennett?” he asked. “What would you have me make of all this? Do you intend to marry this cowboy?”
Nancy glanced at Hank, who had followed her up the steps. His gaze was hooded, his face still pale, as if he expected her to denounce him in front of the banker despite her appreciation for his kindness.
“I will do the same as any other rancher given a proposal,” she told the banker. “I will give the matter due consideration before answering.”
Cramore blinked, looking a bit like an owl she’d surprised near the spring once. “But surely you see he is merely attempting to profit at your expense.”
Hank widened his stance. “That’s a mighty judgmental thing to say about a fellow you met a quarter hour ago.”
Mr. Cramore’s pudgy nose lifted, as if he’d smelled something unpleasant. “I know your kind, sir.”
“And I’ve known a few bankers in my time who were a little too quick to get their hands on a spread in trouble,” Hank countered. “But I didn’t assume you were one the moment we met.”
Neither had Nancy, but perhaps she should have. Oh, was this more proof of her inability to see the truth about people? Could Mr. Cramore be unscrupulous? Was greed rather than caution the reason he’d come to see how the ranch was faring?
And what of Hank? Was he hoping to take over ownership of the ranch, shut her up in the house as Lucas had?
As if he could see the thoughts churning feverishly in her mind, the banker looked from Hank to Nancy. “You must realize the bank’s position,” he insisted. “We have invested good money, and it is our duty to see it returned.”
“I understand the bank’s position,” Nancy told him. “Please understand mine. I hope to keep this ranch, with or without Mr. Snowden’s help. Nothing I’ve seen says you have any right to appoint managers or otherwise interfere with our operations.”
He puffed out his chest, swelling the paisleypatterned waistcoat until the silver buttons winked. “Now, see here, madam. The word of the Empire Bank is sacrosanct.”
“So you say,” Nancy replied. “And I’m willing to believe we owe you the money based on the information you’ve provided. But you will have to believe that I will pay that money back according to the agreement.”
“And if you’re not willing to believe,” Hank put in, “you better bring the law with you the next time you come.”
“Fine.”