The Millionaire's Club: Connor, Tom & Gavin. Michelle Celmer
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“Why would they think that?” Connor asked.
“After word got around about the poisoned feed we lost customers,” Jimmy said. “People pay top dollar to have their horses trained by Nita. If we can’t guarantee a horse’s safety, people stop callin’.”
“All the more reason to catch the son of a bitch,” Nita said, her eyes two violet embers.
Connor was convinced right then and there that Nita would never purposely cause trouble on the farm, not if it affected her livelihood.
“Seen enough?” she asked him.
He nodded and followed her out of the corral to where they’d left their horses. As they mounted, Nita noticed that he winced a little as he settled into the saddle. She often gave lessons to new riders and recognized the signs of a sore rear end. If he was achy from the short amount of time they’d been out, he’d be hurting like the devil by nightfall.
“We’ll go this way,” Nita said, leading him up the property line toward the main stable.
“How bad is it?” Connor asked.
“How bad is what?”
“Your financial situation.”
She didn’t want to discuss the farm finances with a stranger, whether he’d agreed to help her or not. It was no one else’s business. And every time she let herself think about it, a new notch of fear worked itself into her side.
“We’re holding our own,” she told him. What she didn’t say is that if business didn’t pick up soon, if they continued to lose customers, it wouldn’t be long before they went bankrupt. Then the Devlins would get what they’d been after all these years.
With her daddy out of commission, the burden of making things right landed squarely on her shoulders. But she could handle it. And when she found out who was trying to ruin them, that person was going to wish they were never born.
Chapter Three
When Nita and Connor stepped into her daddy’s hospital room an hour later he was asleep, and Jane was perched in one of the visitor’s chairs reading a romance novel—her one personal indulgence. 1:00 p.m. every afternoon, for exactly one hour she could be found on the cedar swing, or curled up on the couch, her nose buried in a book. Unless someone was bleeding to death or the house was in flames, everyone knew better than to weasel in on her “me” time.
Nita figured, under the circumstances, it would be safe to interrupt her. “Hi, Jane,” she said softly.
Jane looked up, smiled and set the book down. Despite being away from the farm, she wore her typical work attire—plaid shirt, jeans and canvas tennis shoes—and her long dark hair was pulled back into a neat bun. She was nowhere close to the stunning beauty Nita’s mother had been, but she had a quiet grace about her that Nita had always admired. And Jane didn’t let anyone, especially the men on the farm, push her around. Though she was a good ten years younger than Nita’s daddy, if anyone wore the pants in the Windcroft family, it was her.
“Hey, honey,” Jane said, rising to give Nita a hug. Jane had been at the hospital late last night and had come back early that morning, and she looked tired for it. “How are things going at the house?”
“Breakfast was a bit of a fiasco,” Nita said. “But I managed to get most of the burnt smell out of the house.”
Jane cringed. “Lord, I don’t even want to know.”
Nita nodded toward the bed. “Has he been asleep long?”
“He’s been in and out all morning. When he’s not asleep he’s complaining that he wants to go home.”
“That sounds about normal.” For as long as Nita could remember her daddy had hated hospitals, especially Royal Memorial. He’d never said so, but she figured it had a lot to do with her mother’s illness. From what Nita had been told by her sister, who was old enough at the time to remember the chain of events, their momma had been feeling sick for a while but never went to the doctor. When she finally did, the cancer had spread so far there was nothing they could do but make her comfortable. She’d hung on for three months. Most of that time spent in this very hospital.
“Who’s this young man?” Jane asked, giving Connor a curious look.
“Jane, this is Connor Thorne. He’s going to be staying with us for a while, keeping an eye on things.”
“Ma’am,” Connor said, shaking her hand.
“Well, thank heaven for that,” Jane said, glancing in Will’s direction. “Things have gotten out of hand.”
“Do you think it would be okay to wake him?” Nita asked. “Connor has some questions.”
“Like a fella could sleep through all this chitchat,” Will mumbled from the bed, gazing up at them through bleary eyes.
Nita moved to his side and took his hand, giving it a squeeze. He looked a hell of a sight better than he had yesterday. But propped up in the hospital bed, his leg in plaster from his foot all the way up to his thigh, he looked a decade older than his fifty-eight years—as if he’d aged overnight. “How are you feeling Daddy?”
“Like I keep telling the doctors, I feel fine. I’m ready to go home.” He looked past her to Connor, who stood by the door, hands clasped behind his back, military straight. “You keepin’ an eye on my girl?”
Connor gave a single nod. “Yes, sir.”
Nita didn’t correct her father by telling him Connor was there to watch the farm, not her. She’d let him believe that if it eased his mind.
“Daddy, Connor would like to ask you a couple of questions.” She motioned for Connor to join her at his bedside. “He’s trying to find out who did this.”
“I know exactly who’s responsible,” Will said bitterly. “It was the Devlins.”
“The truth is, there’s just no evidence pointing to the Devlins and they’ve firmly denied any involvement,” Connor told him. “Is there anyone else you could think of that has a grudge against you?”
He shook his head. “No one. It’s the Devlins all right.”
Connor could see where Nita got her stubborn streak. They looked alike, too. Same dark hair, same high cheekbones and proud chin.
“You just worry about getting better,” Nita said, patting his hand. “I’ll handle things.”
Will smiled up at his daughter, pride shinning in his eyes. It amazed Connor how easy it was for some men to show the emotion. He’d strived for years to see that look in his own father’s eyes. And despite all he’d done to please James Thorne, Connor still didn’t feel he measured up. He probably never would.
“I want you to hire extra help,” Nita’s father told her. “Temporarily, until I’m back on my feet.”
That chin of hers rose. “I can handle things just fine.”
Connor had a feeling her resistance had little to do with her own abilities and everything to do with their financial situation. He suspected things were worse than she’d let on earlier that morning. And she probably didn’t want to worry her father.
“Don’t worry about things on the farm, Mr. Windcroft,” Connor said. “I’ll be helping Nita while I’m there.”
He didn’t know much about horse farms, but this gave him a good excuse to be close to Nita so he could keep an eye on her.
Nita flashed him an uneasy look, then turned to her father and smiled. “See, Daddy, I’ve got all the help I need. You just concentrate on healing.”
Nita, Jane and her father chatted for a few more minutes, then Nita kissed him goodbye and she and Connor headed out to the parking lot. They’d