Over the years he—and his father before him—had done all he could to steal the Hanson land. Not that he wasn’t willing to pay. He was. But, bottom line, he wanted something that wasn’t rightfully his, and he intended to get it by fair means or foul.
According to Caleb, Grady had no scruples, just a single-minded determination. He’d tried to buy up their note at the bank, but fortunately, the bank president was an old family friend of Caleb’s father. He had seen the paperwork, foiled the attempt, then dutifully rushed to report everything to the Hansons. That much was fact.
In addition—and far more damning—Caleb had been all but certain Grady was behind a virus that had infected half their herd the previous year. He had also blamed Grady for a fire that had swept through pastureland the year before that, destroying feed and putting the entire herd at risk.
There had been no proof, of course, just suspicions, which Karen had never entirely bought. After all, Grady had been waiting in the wings, checkbook in hand, after each incident. Would he have been foolish enough to do that if he’d been behind the acts in the first place? Wouldn’t he know that he’d be the first person to fall under suspicion? Or hadn’t he cared, as long as he got his way?
“I think it would be in both our interests to talk,” he said, regarding her with the intense gaze that always disquieted her.
“I doubt that.”
He ignored her words and her pointed refusal to back away from the door. “I’ve made no secret over the years of the fact that I want this land.”
“That’s true enough.” She regarded him curiously. “Why this land? What is it about this particular ranch that made your father and now you hound the Hansons for years?”
“If you’ll allow me to come inside, I’ll explain. Perhaps then you won’t be so determined to fight me on this.”
Karen’s sense of fair play and curiosity warred with her ingrained animosity. Curiosity won. She stepped aside and let him enter. He removed his hat and hung it on a peg, then took a seat at the table. She took comfort in the fact that he didn’t remove his coat. He clearly wouldn’t be staying long.
His intense gaze swept the room, as if taking stock, then landed on the scattered brochures.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, studying her with surprise. “I didn’t think you had the money to be taking off for Europe.”
“I don’t,” she said tightly, wondering how he knew so much about her finances. Then again, just about everyone knew that she and Caleb had been struggling. “My friends do. They’re encouraging me to take a vacation.”
“Are you considering it?”
“Not with you circling around waiting for me to make a misstep that will cost me the ranch.”
He winced at that. “I know how your husband felt about me, but I’m not your enemy, Mrs. Hanson. I’m trying to make a fair deal. You have something I want. I have the cash to make your life a whole lot easier. It’s as simple as that.”
“There is nothing simple about this, Mr. Blackhawk. My husband loved this ranch. I don’t intend to lose it, especially not to the man he considered to be little better than a conniving thief.”
“A harsh assessment of a man you don’t know,” he said mildly.
“It was his assessment, not mine. Caleb was not prone to making quick judgments. If he distrusted you, he had his reasons.”
“Which you intend to accept blindly?”
It was her turn to wince. Loyalty was one thing, but her sense of fair play balked at blindly accepting anything.
“Persuade me otherwise,” she challenged. “Convince me you had nothing to do with the attempts to destroy our herd, that your intentions were honorable when you tried to buy up the note on the land.”
He didn’t seem surprised by the accusations. He merely asked, “And then you’ll sell?”
“I didn’t say that, but I will stop labeling you as a thief if you don’t deserve it.”
He grinned at that, and it changed him from somber menace to charming rogue in a heartbeat. Karen nearly gasped at the transformation, but she wouldn’t allow herself to fall prey to it. He hadn’t proved anything yet. She doubted he could.
“If I tell you that none of that is true, not even the part about the mortgage, would you believe me?” Grady asked.
“No.”
“What would it take?”
“Find the person responsible.”
He nodded. “Maybe I will. In the meantime, I’m going to tell you a story,” he said in a low, easy, seductive tone.
His voice washed over Karen, lulling her as if it were the start of a bedtime story. She was tired enough to fall asleep listening to it, but she sat up rigidly, determined not to display any sign of weakness in front of this man.
“Generations ago this land belonged to my ancestors,” Grady began. “It was stolen from them.”
“Not by me,” she said heatedly, responding not just to the accusation but to the fact that she’d dared to let down her guard for even a split second. “Nor my husband.”
He seemed amused by her quick retort. “Did I say it had been? No, this was years and years ago, before your time or mine. It was taken by the government, turned over to homesteaders. White homesteaders,” he said pointedly. “My ancestors were driven onto reservations, while people like the Hansons took over their land.”
Karen was aware that much had been done to the Native Americans that was both heartless and wrong. She sympathized with Grady Blackhawk’s desire to right an old wrong, but she and Caleb—or, for that matter, Caleb’s parents and grandparents—weren’t the ones to blame. They had bought the land from others, who, in turn, had simply taken advantage of a federal policy.
“You’re asking me to make amends for something I had no part in,” she told him.
“It’s not a matter of paying an old debt that isn’t yours. It’s a matter of doing what’s right because you’re
