Page 16 of A Groom for Heather
Heather nearly fainted.
There was a survivor.
Chapter Five
Dalton pushed open the door to the small attorney’s office. Mr. Cairn was sitting across a large wooden desk. There were two chairs in front of the desk, and one was occupied by a woman in a dark dress.
“Excuse me,” he said, backing out of the office. “I thought we had an appointment.”
“We do, Mr. James,” Mr. Cairn said, waving Dalton further in the office. “This is Mrs. Barnes. We had some other business before our meeting.”
The woman shifted in the seat, her eyes opening wide as she recognized Dalton.
“You!” she said.
“It’s me.” He walked over and leaned across the desk to shake the lawyer’s hand. “I didn’t realize the ranch was yours.”
“Yes. And the businesses too.”
“Have a seat, Mr. James.”
Dalton pulled the empty chair away from the desk and turned it so he could face Mrs. Barnes.
Today she was wearing a long black skirt and a black jacket with pearl buttons. Her hair was perfectly coiffed and matching pearl earrings dangled from her dainty ears. The woman before him was a far cry from the woman he ran into the previous afternoon.
“Are you still wearing mourning clothes, Mrs. Barnes?”
The woman looked at him with disdain. “I didn’t have time to do laundry,” she quipped.
“My apologies, ma’am.”
“Mr. Cairn said that you put in an offer on the farm at well above the asking price.”
Dalton scratched his chin. “I did. But we can get to that. I just had a few questions.”
Mr. Cairn shuffled the papers in front of him. “I think everything will be laid out in the contract, Mr. James.”
Dalton held up his hand. “I wanted to ask the woman a few things before we proceed.”
Mrs. Barnes leaned back in the chair. “Ask away.” She raised her hands in the air. “I’m an open book.”
Dalton shook his head. “I doubt that, Mrs. Barnes.”
“What do you want to know?”
“How did you know those Indians yesterday?”
“My husband spent several years with them before he started ranching. They taught him how to hunt, which in turn provided a food source for the town.”
“Food source?”
“Yes. For the butcher shop. Didn’t you read the advertisement?”
“I knew there was a business attached. I didn’t realize it was a butcher shop.” His stomach churned at the thought of being responsible for supplying meat to the town. He enjoyed a good buffalo steak as much as the next man, but to have to hunt and process the buffalo?No, thank you.
The woman blinked her eyes. “What did you think it was?”
“I thought it had something to do with farming,” Dalton shrugged. “You know, growing hay, fixing equipment.”
