The Wedding Toast (Colorado Billionaires Book 6) Page 13

  Taylor squealed. She couldn’t help herself. “Sorry,” she said, “I’m just so excited to have him here.”

  “Breakfast?” Axel lifted an apple fritter. “These are from The Muffin Man.”

  “Oh, in that case….” She picked up a paper napkin and selected a twisted glazed donut. “This is so decadent.” She filled a cup with coffee and snapped a plastic lid on it.

  “I’m parked out front.”

  “I thought we were walking over to Thor Security?”

  “Last night, Mrs. McAvoy said the Pattersons are getting ready to sell their place. I thought we’d drive out and talk to them first. Just a hunch.”

  “Okay.” The Pattersons’ name sparked a memory. “Mina also mentioned the Shanes were having financial problems. Is that important?”

  “Could be. We’ll stop there first.”

  Taylor didn’t know exactly what kind of information Axel thought he could get from two local ranchers, especially ones who weren’t doing well financially, but she was with Axel and she wasn’t staring at a computer screen, so she decided to relax and enjoy herself.

  When Axel pulled onto Highway 50 eastbound, Taylor said, “I’ve never been this way before.”

  “The Patterson place and the Shane ranch are both east of town,” he said. “It won’t take long on the highway.”

  Taylor didn’t mind. She munched on her donut and sipped her coffee. The farther east they went, the more pastureland they saw. The number of trees lessened, and instead of evergreens, she spotted large gatherings of aspen, their spring green leaves trembling in the breeze over strikingly white trunks. It looked like they were murmuring secrets to each other in the morning air.

  They passed fields filled with cattle on one side of the highway and sheep on the other side. Two border collies were intent on taking their flock away from the road and were doing an efficient job of it. A fence separated the field from the road, but the dogs weren’t about to trust their charges to wood and wire. Taylor wondered if she and Axel should get a border collie. He could get lots of exercise herding those stinking alpacas.

  When Axel slowed to make a left turn onto a gravel road, he paused long enough to let a BMW pull out onto the highway, headed west.

  “Who’s that?” asked Taylor.

  “I’m not sure,” said Axel. He sniffed the air. “Smells like a lawyer.”

  Taylor laughed. “Most of the lawyers I know prowl around the big city. What’s one doing at the Shanes’ place?”

  “Let’s go find out.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Axel drove slowly toward the farm house. It looked in need of a coat of paint. It was supposed to be white, but there were so many strips of peeling paint, it almost resembled the bark of the aspens that shaded it. A beat up old flatbed was parked off to the side with six bales of hay on the back.

  Standing in front of the porch, wringing her hands, was a middle-aged woman wearing jeans and a barn coat. Wisps of greying hair escaped from under her battered Stetson. As they pulled up, Axel realized she was wiping her fingers on a handkerchief. He parked behind the flatbed and got out, coming around to open Taylor’s door for her.

  “Morning, Mrs. Shane,” he said pleasantly. “I think we met last week at a city council meeting. Or was it the Grange lodge?”

  Mrs. Shane’s brown eyes were sharp and observant. Axel let her take him in from head to toe while he offered Taylor a hand as she stepped out of the SUV.

  Mrs. Shane’s voice was calm and measured. “The Grange,” she said. “I remember you. You’re cousin to the Garrison boys.”

  “That’s right.” Axel smiled. “This is my friend, Taylor.”

  “Oh yeah, the new girl from back east. Mina told me.” She held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Taylor. I’m Marigold.” She glanced from Taylor to Axel and back again as she shook Taylor’s hand. “Has he asked you yet?”

  Taylor blushed. “Um, no. I mean, asked me? I mean….”

  Marigold laughed and released her hand. “I’m just teasing. You make a nice couple, that’s all. What can I do for you, Axel?”

  Axel indicated the hanky in her hand. “Did you touch something?”

  “Yeah. Shook a lawyer’s hand. Trying to get the stink off.”

  Axel chuckled. “His car looked familiar.”

  “He was at the Grange meeting, too. Works for one of the Garrisons.”

  Axel’s brows rose. “Oh, right. I remember now.”

  Marigold stuffed the hanky in her coat pocket. “It’s nice to see you and all, but I’m in the middle of chores. What can I do you for?”

  Axel loved the way his neighbors talked. He tilted his head to one side. “Well, you know I bought a parcel from the Lazy B.”

  “Yep. Your cousin Thor was none too pleased, as I recall.”

  “You might say that. Yesterday, I was talking to Mrs. Baxter, and she told me she’d received some letters trying to pressure her into lowering her price before I came along. I was wondering if anyone had been out here trying to buy your place?”

  Marigold stared at him for several seconds. Then she said, “Chores can wait. Come inside and set a spell. Got something to show you.”

  The outside of the house may have needed painting, but the inside was a cozy showcase. Overstuffed chairs, throw rugs on the burnished wooden floors, a fat black wood stove standing where a fireplace used to be. The mantle remained, covered with photos of different sizes, and on the walls were more pictures, boys and girls with big blue and red ribbons, standing next to pigs and sheep and goats.

  “Come on into the kitchen,” said Marigold. She waved a hand at the photos as if they were nothing, but there was pride in her voice. “All my kids did Four-H. Always came home with ribbons.”

  The kitchen was warm and smelled of fresh-baked bread. Next to a modern electric stove stood an old-fashioned cast iron monster. “That was my grandmother’s cook stove,” said Marigold. “Never could bring myself to get rid of it. And it still comes in handy, too. Makes the best bread ever. Have a seat. My husband’s in the barn. One of our pigs is in labor.” She set a bread board on the table and cut four slices off the end. “Just took it out of the oven half an hour ago. Help yourselves.” She took the glass top off the butter dish and pulled a knife out of a drawer. “Coffee?”

  Taylor started to object, but Axel responded first. “Coffee would be lovely, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “No trouble at all, just made a fresh pot.”

  Once they were settled and had a chance to taste the homemade bread, Axel said, “Mmmm, this bread is amazing!”

  Marigold was pleased. “Thank you. Been making my own since I was thirteen.” She pulled open a drawer on her side of the table and lifted a handful of papers out. “Here’s what I wanted to show you.”

  Axel took another bite of the heavenly bread, then pulled the papers close enough to read. There were five letters and several brochures about fracking and how it would make the Shanes a ton of money.

  Marigold said, “That lawyer brought those pamphlets to the Grange that night. Guess he thought we were ready to take the bait. He was out here this morning talking a mile a minute about all the opportunities he was ready to hand us on a silver platter.”

  Axel perused the letters. He spotted a familiar return address and tapped a finger on it. “Gee, someone must have rented office space at Yankee Stadium.”

  Taylor barked a laugh. “Right. Like that would ever happen. Do you recognize the signature?”

  “Well, the name is bogus, I’m sure, but I don’t think it’s my father’s handwriting. What about you?”

  Taylor shook her head. “Never saw it before.”

  “But this one looks familiar, doesn’t it?” He picked up a letter with a Pawling return address and passed it to Taylor.

  “That’s the same name he used on the Lazy B letter.”

  Marigold looked from one to the other. “My husband and I were thinking about selling. We had a hard couple of years
, and there’s things that need doing that we can’t quite afford. We was tempted.”

  Axel looked at her anxiously. “Tempted?”

  Marigold shrugged. “I just couldn’t stand the idea of having all that oil business and all that equipment and everything on my property. They kept talking like we’d still own everything and they were just leasing, but I don’t know.” She shook her head. “There was something about it I just didn’t trust. And like my husband says, if you smell dead fish, watch out for the bear.”

  Axel said, “Mrs. Shane, would you mind holding onto these letters for a while? Lucy Baxter got some from the same people. I thought my cousin was trying to get my eighty acres so he could build houses, but after looking at these, I’m not so sure it’s that cut and dried. Did you get any offers or communications from Thor Garrison?”

  “Nope. I might have paid attention to that. Just the ones you see here.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking,” said Axel, “are you having a better year?”

  Marigold looked pleased. “My daughter was horrified that we might sell the family ranch, so she put her house in Denver on the market, and she’s coming home to help us out. Says she wants to raise her kids here. She’s still single at the moment, but wouldn’t it be great to have grandkids running around the place?”

  “That’s fantastic,” said Axel. “Well, we’d better get going. I want to stop by the Patterson place.”

  Marigold’s expression darkened. “Their kids wouldn’t come home to help on a bet. But don’t tell Doreen I said that. Just give her my love.” She stood up and pulled a large paper bag out of a drawer, took her other loaf of fresh bread, and put it in the bag. “And give her this. And tell her to call me. My chickens are pumping out eggs like crazy. I got lots to share.”

  Back in the SUV, Axel let Taylor hold the bread. “Sounds like the Pattersons aren’t doing quite as well as the Shanes,” he said.

  Taylor looked at him, her brow furrowed with worry. “I can’t stand the thought of this beautiful countryside having oil rigs all over it.”

  Axel looked grim. “Let’s go see if the Pattersons have done something desperate.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The Patterson place was on the other side of the highway a few miles further on. No BMW pulled out in front of them as they turned south onto yet another gravel road, but that didn’t mean the Pattersons hadn’t received a visit. The house was hidden behind a copse of aging oak trees. The barn came into view first, and it looked dilapidated. Almost all the paint had faded, and the wood underneath had weathered to a silver gray. When Axel turned onto the drive in front of the house itself, Taylor was saddened to see that it wasn’t much better off than the barn. But floral curtains fluttered in the windows, and three overfed dogs announced their arrival as they clambered off the porch toward the SUV.

  “Don’t hit the dogs,” said Taylor.

  Axel smiled. “I won’t. Doesn’t look like they’ve missed a meal, does it?”

  “Those aren’t border collies.”

  “No, they’re Australian shepherds, but it looks like their herding days are behind them. Good watch dogs though.” He turned off the engine and got out of the car, then opened Taylor’s door for her. As she stepped down, he spoke to the dogs. “Hey, guys, how’s it going?”

  His soothing voice stopped the barking and started the tail wagging, but their tails were only a couple of inches long, so they twisted their butts in his direction to let him know they were happy to see him.

  Taylor was impressed. “Gee, you just have a knack with all animals, don’t you?” She assured herself that adding dogs to Axel’s collection would not be hard.

  A worried-looking woman in faded jeans and a hand-me-down flannel shirt opened the screen door to quiet the dogs. “Hush now! You did your job. Get up here on the porch.” The dogs obeyed. The woman squinted at them.

  Axel spoke up before approaching the porch. “Mrs. Patterson? I’m Axel Garrison. We met at the Grange a while back.”

  Her expression eased. “Oh hello! Come on in. My husband is in the kitchen, working.”

  Carrying the bread bag,Taylor followed Axel into the house. Even though the outside was in desperate need of attention, it was obvious that Mrs. Patterson tried hard to keep the inside neat and tidy. But the furniture was old, and years of back and forth had worn a path in the green carpet. A television sat in the corner tuned to CNN, but the sound was off.

  Mrs. Patterson led the way into the kitchen, where a sixty-something man sat in a wheelchair at the table. It was covered with pieces of leather in all states of being worked. Against the wall to his left was a special sewing machine with what looked like the handle of a handbag under the foot. He was rubbing emollient into a horse halter. Several finished pieces hung from the wall and waited for their turn on the table.

  Taylor’s eyes widened as she took it all in. She handed the bread bag to Mrs. Patterson. “Mrs. Shane sends her love and wanted you to have this fresh bread. Oh my goodness, Mr. Patterson, did you make all this?”

  Mr. Patterson paused and looked up at the visitors. “Got more in the dining room. Getting ready for a big craft fair in Pueblo next week. Name’s Andy. Who are you?” He spoke like a man of few words who didn’t want to waste any on personal pronouns.

  “I’m Taylor Hazen.”

  Axel spoke up. “Andy, good to see you again.” They shook hands.

  “Morning, Axel. Was pleased by your little talk at the Grange.” His pale blue eyes were keen and his hands were steady, but only his bony knees supported the stained khaki trousers he wore. His eyes went back and forth between Axel and Taylor. “This your fiancée?” One corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile.

  Axel cleared his throat and stumbled over his response. “Yes. No. Not officially.”

  Taylor let her mouth fall open as if she were surprised to hear how he felt. “Axel Garrison, I heard that. You said yes first. And you did it in front of witnesses.” She grabbed his hand and grinned at him.

  Andy laughed out loud. “Doreen, cut into that bread. Have a seat, you two. We don’t get many visitors. We got coffee.”

  Axel pulled out a chair for Taylor, then sat next to her. “Thanks, Andy. Coffee would be great.”

  Doreen nodded and began fussing with mugs and a bread knife.

  Taylor added, “Oh, I just remembered, Mrs. Shane says she has a surplus of eggs and would love to share. She wants you to call her.”

  Doreen’s cheeks colored a bit. “That’s awful nice of her. I’ll do that.” She kept her back to them.

  Andy set the halter aside. “Got horses?” He directed the question to Taylor.

  “Yes. I have a warmblood named Jackson, and that halter would look so good on him.”

  “Lots of tack in the dining room. Got to work fast before the craft fair.”

  “Are you selling at horse shows?”

  “Well, I would, but you can’t do every show, you know.”

  Doreen added, “Their entry fees run to the hundreds.”

  Andy pretended he didn’t hear her. “I know you didn’t come out here to talk leatherworking. What’s up?”

  Axel accepted a mug of coffee from Doreen as he explained. “We heard a rumor that you were thinking of selling the place.”

  “Nope. Gonna die here.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.” Axel stuttered to clarify as Andy stared in reproach. “I mean, I’m so glad you’re not selling. But I was wondering if you had any offers? The reason I’m asking, Mrs. Baxter and the Shanes have received very similar letters urging them to either sell cheap or to lease to the oil people.”

  “Fracking.” Andy spat the word.

  Doreen set a plate of sliced bread on the table. “It could pay a lot of bills,” she said in a tone that told Taylor she and her husband had been talking about the idea for quite a while.

  “We’d have no room for livestock.”

  Doreen looked sad. “We ain’t had any since the accident. Why do
you keep hoping that will change?”

  Andy smacked the table with one hand. “Because it’s what we’ve done all our lives!” He looked away, struggling to control his anger.

  Axel stared into his coffee for a few seconds. “Sorry to bring up such a sore subject,” he said softly. “I just wanted to let you know that there may be other options.”

  “Don’t go getting his hopes up,” said Doreen. “This ain’t been easy.”

  Taylor raised a timid hand. “May I ask what happened?”

  Andy sighed. “I got kicked by a bull. Broke my pelvis. End of story.”

  Taylor squeezed Axel’s arm. “There must be something we can do to help.”

  Doreen straightened her spine. “Maybe you’d like to see what we’re selling in Pueblo.”

  “I’d love to,” said Taylor. She got up and followed Doreen out of the room. Behind her, she could hear Axel’s voice, talking earnestly with Andy. Then she saw the hundreds of items of handworked leather and gasped. “Oh my, these are stunning!” She moved through the room as if it were a sacred place. “These are for sale?”

  Doreen allowed that they were. “I been putting price tags on everything, getting ready to load the truck next week.”

  “Do you have to do all the set up by yourselves?”

  “At the craft show? Folks are really helpful, and they knew Andy before the accident, so they pitch in and give us a hand.”

  “I’m so glad. Wow. He really should be selling at every horse show he can. These bridles and martingales are spectacular!”

  “He can do a special order for you after the craft show. You said your horse’s name is Jackson? He could put Jackson’s name on the cheek strap of a bridle or whatever you want.”

  Taylor was practically jumping up and down. Then she had an idea. “How much do you need for the entry fee to sell at a horse show?”

  “The one coming up in Pueblo next month? They want three hundred dollars up front. Craft show’s only a hundred.”

  Taylor ran her hands over a leather handbag with a horse’s head stamped in the center of the design. “I really want this bag. And those two small matching shoulder bags, too. The ones with horseshoes on them. I need those for gifts.” She moved through the room, making her selections. By the time she finished, she’d spent six hundred dollars. She pulled out her wallet and took six of the hundred-dollar bills that Axel had given her to replace her Armani blouse. “Here you go. Now please, see if you can get a space to sell at that horse show, because your husband is an artist and horse people will be fighting over these things.”