silent, but his eyes narrowed. He wasn’t going to budge. The sooner Barker realized it, the better things would be.
Finally, the man continued on to a room at the back of the building and shut the door.
So he’d moved back into the foreman’s quarters. Good.
There had been a few rough patches that sparked the animosity between him and Barker when Douglas first hired him on, but eventually Barker figured out where they both stood in the scheme of things at the ranch. Looked like Mrs. Stewart was figuring it out too and insisting on her place. His opinion of her rose a notch.
Seemed like ever since Doug left, Barker had taken on more liberty with his position, to the point of making decisions that changed the vision of what Doug had for the ranch. Wolf figured as long as they could be easily reversed, most could wait until Doug came home and saw to things himself. Trouble was, Doug wasn’t coming home now and Barker acted like he owned the place.
What was going through the man’s head now that Mrs. Stewart had arrived? If she planned to sell the property, could Barker afford to buy the ranch himself? A foreman didn’t make that kind of money. Did he hope to prove to her that he could take care of the place and she should keep it as an investment? That might not be a bad thing at all for the men here—except where did that leave him and his promise to Doug? Watching over things for a short while was one thing, but that had already stretched to a year. How could he continue for an indefinite time, especially since any respect between him and Barker continued to erode?
Wolf lay back on the bed, laced his fingers together under his head and stared up at the long wooden beam over his head. If only he could buy the land. He had a little saved up, and he knew how to run cattle. He’d worked the land with Doug for years whenever his own parents didn’t need him at the store.
He’d still need a loan to cover the difference between what he had and what he needed. Would the bank work with him? It always came back to the fact that he had Indian blood. Some people couldn’t see past that, and the banker, Micha Swift, was one of those people. Guess for now it didn’t matter. Cassandra Stewart hadn’t said a thing about selling.
The important thing was to see to Doug’s last wishes. In the same way that Doug had a motive when he tricked Cassandra into believing him poor before marrying her, he had motives for everything he did. He was smart and, more often than not, one step ahead of most people. Of the two of them, Wolf was more cautious, having to think through each part of a plan and the consequences before acting, where Doug plowed right on ahead.
This month that Cassandra had agreed to stay wasn’t an idle request on his best friend’s part. Doug had probably expected her to come much sooner than this. Until he understood it all, he’d hang around. He’d make sure that Cassandra stayed safe from any harm while she was here. Harm could come in any number of forms—a snake in the grass, an ornery steer or a two-legged varmint named Cleve Barker.
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