“Jenny isn’t some girl!” he snapped, cutting her off angrily. “And as for sense, she’s every bit as bright as she is pretty! I want nothing but the best for her, and that doesn’t include your calf-eyed, tree-climbing brother! By heaven, she deserves better!”
Harriet felt her anger rising as his words hung in the air between them. So the truth had come out at last. Brandon Calhoun was nothing but a strutting, bombastic snob who placed himself above common folk like Will and herself and judged his daughter worthy of a Vanderbilt heir. Merciful heaven, what grandiose delusions! He was nothing but a big fish in a very small pond! If she weren’t so furious, she could almost feel sorry for him!
“You’ve made your position quite clear, Mr. Calhoun,” she said in a voice that crackled like thin ice. “At least we seem to agree on one thing. I’m as anxious to protect Will’s future as you are to promote your daughter’s.”
Her subtle shift of verbs was not lost on him. His cobalt eyes darkened and she braced herself for another blast of hostility. For a long moment the only sound in the room was the droning buzz of a horsefly trapped against the windowpane. Seconds crawled past. Then, as Harriet held her breath, his rigid shoulders sagged. He exhaled raggedly, thrusting his fists into the pockets of his fine gabardine jacket.
“Jenny’s all I have,” he said. “She’s the only thing in my life that I give a damn about. If you had children of your own, you’d understand how I feel.”
If you had children of your own. Harriet winced as if he had caused her physical pain. She had put aside the hope of having her own family when she’d taken on the task of raising Will. Now, at twenty-nine, she knew that time had passed her by. She had become that most disparaged of creatures—an old maid.
Pressing her lips together, she gazed past him into the blur of sunlight that fell through the uncurtained window. She had always despised self-pity and refused to indulge in it. But the wretched man had known exactly where to jab and he had jabbed with a vengeance. Harriet had no doubt that he’d meant to wound her.
He cleared his throat, breaking the leaden silence between them. “This so-called talk you had with your brother. What did he have to say about his intentions?”
“That he loves your daughter. That he wants to marry her.”
He sucked in his breath as if he’d been gut- punched. “And how did you answer him?”
“How do you expect I would answer?” she retorted. “I told him it was foolish to even think of love at his age, let alone marriage! Getting involved with a girl at this point could ruin his plans for the future— indeed, it could ruin his whole life!”
“And did you resolve anything with him?” Brandon Calhoun’s voice was flat and cold.
“Only that there’ll be no more sneaking out at night to see Jenny. Will tends to be headstrong. As his sister, I’ve learned that if I draw the reins too tightly he’s quite capable of breaking them and going his own way.”
“So the reality is, he’s eighteen years old and the only control you have over the boy is what little he allows you.” He shot her a withering scowl. “I thought as much.”
Harriet fought the urge to fly at him and rip the smug expression off his face with her bare hands. “Whatever you’re implying, Mr. Calhoun, my brother is a decent, responsible young man!” she snapped. “Ask anyone who knows him!”
“I already have. Hezekiah Moon at the feed store says your brother’s the best worker he’s ever hired. He’s always on time, he has every account figured to the penny, and he can load a wagon in the time it takes the customer to have a smoke. But that doesn’t mean I want the young whelp sniffing around my Jenny!”
“So what is it you want?” Harriet demanded, suddenly out of patience with him. “If you’ve only come to grouse and complain, please consider your mission accomplished and let me get back to work!”
He retreated a step as if startled by her sudden vehemence. Then he swiftly recovered and seized the offensive. “I wouldn’t have wasted my time in coming here if I didn’t have something in mind,” he said, shifting his weight uneasily, like a boxer. “Since you don’t keep your money in my bank, I can only judge your financial situation from what I see. You live in a rented, two-bedroom shack next to the cemetery. You don’t own a buggy or even a horse, and as for your clothes—”
“My clothes are clean and modest and in good repair.” Harriet’s fists clenched against the skirt of her faded gingham dress. “If I don’t look like a page from a fashion magazine, that’s none of your concern, nor is the way I live! Aside from the matter of Will and Jenny, you and I have nothing to say to each other, Mr. Calhoun! Now kindly get out of my classroom and leave me in peace!”
He loomed over her, making everything in the room seem small. Blue lightning crackled in his eyes. “For what it’s worth, Miss Smith, I own this building and the land it sits on,” he said. “That would make it my classroom. And I don’t intend to leave you in any kind of peace until you’ve heard me out.”
Harriet willed herself to ignore her liquid knees and slamming pulse. She faced him squarely, her chin up, her features composed, her eyes meeting his in a steady gaze. But when she spoke, her shaking voice betrayed her. “Go on, then. I can hardly throw you out with my bare hands.”
One dark smudge of an eyebrow slid upward in unspoken challenge, as if to imply he’d like to see her try manhandling him; but when he spoke, his manner was cold and formal. “Very well. I’m prepared to make you and your brother an offer. I think you’ll agree that it’s more than generous.”
“I’m listening.” Harriet felt as if the ground had dissolved under her feet, leaving her with no solid place to stand. He was so imposing, so damnably sure of his power to turn her to quivering jelly. She found herself wishing he would give her an excuse to slap his insolent face. Of all the girls in town, why had Will chosen to fall in love with the pampered only child of a man like Brandon Calhoun?
He took a deep breath, the air rushing into his powerful chest. “Here’s my offer,” he said, pulling a folded paper out of his vest. “Leave town within the week, the two of you, and I’ll pay your way to wherever you want to go. If your brother agrees never to contact Jenny again, I’m prepared to pay for his college education. Every penny of it.”
Harriet stared up at him, shocked into silence by his audacity. The offer was more than generous; it was unimaginable.
She struggled to keep her wits about her, but her head had already begun to spin—as he had doubtless known it would. Over the years she had saved her own money for Will’s education, living like a pauper so that she could send every spare cent to the Denver bank where she kept her savings. By now, she calculated, she had enough to pay for three years of college. Somehow, with Will working summers, they would manage the fourth year.
But if Brandon Calhoun were to pay for Will’s education, the money she had saved would be hers. Dear heaven, she would be able to travel—to England, to Italy, to all the places she’d dreamed of seeing. Or she might even be able to buy her own small house, with space for a garden and no landlord to trouble her for the rent. It would be like a dream come true.
All she needed to do was to strike a bargain with the devil.
He was watching her, his steel-blue eyes wary but confident. Harriet could almost read his thoughts. This sorry spinster, so drab in her worn gingham frock, could not possibly be foolish enough to turn him down. Just like anyone else, the woman had her price. For a few thousand dollars he would be rid of her and her troublesome brother once and for all, with no stain on his own conscience or reputation.
Brandon Calhoun thought he could buy them off, as if they were common trash; as if they were so poor and so devoid of pride that they