Be lost to him forever.
“Who. Are. You. Talking. About?” Maya demanded.
Carl paid for his order and stepped aside to wait for his food without answering her, and Maya let out a little huff. “Coopers,” she said derisively.
“Carl’s not a Cooper,” Fila told her.
“He might as well be. He worships them. And he acts like them, too. Stubborn as a mule.”
Carl kept his cool. He’d never understood the feud between the two families or how someone as level-headed as Maya could fall under its sway.
But all the Turners were like that. Dead set against the Coopers. And vice versa.
Was that why Camila wasn’t looking at him? He knew she got a great deal on rent from the Turners. Maybe she didn’t want to put that in jeopardy just to chat with him.
Or maybe he was too late.
Fila leaned toward him again. “Do you want to talk to her?” she asked in a low voice, keeping an eye on Maya, who had waved another customer forward.
“Hell, yeah.”
“Hold on.” Fila moved to Camila’s side and said something to her. Camila shook her head, but Fila kept talking until Camila finally straightened.
“Fine,” he heard her say.
“Here you go. One plate of butter chicken nachos,” Fila said a moment later, delivering his meal, a satisfied gleam in her eye. “She’ll meet you over there in ten minutes. Keep out of sight of the booth.” She pointed in the direction of the portable toilets set a discreet distance away from the rest of the festivities. “Next,” Fila called out.
Carl walked away. The portable toilets might not be his first choice as a rendezvous spot, but who cared? This was his chance to repair the damage between them—and he meant to make the most of it.
He’d gone only about twenty paces away from the food tent, however, when something sharp prodded him in the side.
“Carl!”
“Hell!” Carl nearly dropped his nachos as a sharp-eyed, gray-haired woman poked the tip of her umbrella into his rib cage again. He sidestepped her third attempt to spear him. “Virginia—you nearly made me lose my food!”
Carl’s anger didn’t faze her. Nothing fazed Virginia Cooper, matriarch of the Cooper clan and his landlord at Thorn Hill. Since he’d moved onto the spread, he’d come to enjoy the younger generation of Coopers, despite their ready tempers, but Virginia was another matter. Virginia would try the patience of a saint. It wasn’t her age—her eighty-four years hadn’t slowed down her keen acumen, her fast stride or her sharp tongue.
She was simply mean.
Carl had learned to stay out of her way. Luckily for him, most of the time he could do that. Virginia might still own Thorn Hill, but she currently resided at the Prairie Garden assisted living facility in town, where she happily tormented the other residents and staff.
“I’ve got a proposition for you!” she announced, ignoring his protest. “Did you hear about the prize?” In her three-quarter-length gray skirt and flower-patterned blouse, Virginia was neat as a pin. Her hair was pulled back, braided and coiled into a bun. Her fingers gleamed with several large rings, but none of them circled her ring finger. Virginia had never married.
“What prize?” Carl looked back to catch a glimpse of Camila, but too many people blocked his view.
“Weren’t you paying attention to the announcements? It’s only the biggest piece of news to hit Chance Creek in over a hundred years!”
Now she had his attention. “I just got here. What’s going on?”
“The city’s giving up the Ridley property. Giving it away to the winner—which will be us!” Her eyes shone with determination.
Carl was lost. “Where’s the Ridley property? And how would we win it?”
She poked him again with her umbrella. “The Ridley property is a ranch that straddles Pittance Creek to the north of Thorn Hill and the Flying W. It was given to the city by the Ridleys in 1962 and kept in trust since then. Those fools thought the town center would spread to encompass it. Must have figured Chance Creek was the next Chicago.” She shook her head to show what she thought of that. “It’s been sitting there unused ever since.”
Carl was beginning to understand the significance of the announcement. If the Coopers won it, they could double the size of their ranch.
“Think of it.” Virginia jabbed with her umbrella for emphasis, but Carl dodged it. “Twice the land—and control over Pittance Creek,” she said triumphantly.
Clarity crashed over him. There was the rub. The land was one thing, but the water could be even more important. The Turners’ ranch—the Flying W—also depended on Pittance Creek. Both ranches had wells, of course, but the creek was valuable, nonetheless.
“Virginia, you’re incorrigible. You wouldn’t deprive the Turners of their water, would you?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Depends.”
Hell, he wanted no part of this. “Well, good luck. Hope you win.”
“That’s all you’ve got to say?” Virginia lifted her chin. “Fat lot of help you are, after everything we’ve done for you.”
Carl sighed and checked over his shoulder again. No sign of Camila yet, but he needed to get going. “What do you have to do to win it?” he asked, because he knew Virginia wouldn’t let him pass until she’d told him.
“Provide the biggest boost to civic life during the next six months. Whatever that means.”
Carl could have laughed. It meant the Coopers would have to do something good for the town at large—maybe for the first time in their lives. The family wasn’t known for its civic mindedness. “Like I said, good luck.” This time Carl really meant it. If vying to win the Ridley property motivated them to become model citizens, he was all for it. He liked the Coopers, but they were a wild bunch.
“That’s where you come in.”
“What do you mean?” He should have known she’d try to rope him into something.
She jabbed him again. “Pay attention. This is important. Like I said, I’ve got a proposition for you.”
“Spit it out.”
“You need a ranch. I need that
