Cynthia Reese - Where Love Grows

I never come here anymore because I’m flat broke and even a dollar for a cup of joe is hard to come by.

“If I find out anything about J.T., I’ll tell you. Now, how about that coffee?”

After Charlotte trudged off for a cup, he proceeded back to the dining room.

Murphy looked up from his plate of grits, eggs and bacon. “’Bout time you got here. We’ve been waiting on you.”

The we included a motley crew of area farmers, some clearly straight from the fields as Ryan was, others in pristine golf shirts free from any signs of true labor. Murphy was part of the latter, his white knit cotton stretched taut over a big belly. Five minutes in a tractor and that shirt would have been history.

It also, Ryan realized with a sick twist of his stomach, included Jack.

Ryan pulled out a chair and sat down. He gave Jack a penetrating look, but his cousin merely shrugged in reply. The other men stared at Ryan, waiting for him to speak. When he didn’t, Murphy forked in another bite of fried egg, chewed, cleared his throat and spoke.

“The fellows here are hoping you can tell them what to expect from that lady investigator. Understand she started with you last night. And stayed pretty late.”

“Now you’ve got me under surveillance?” Ryan glanced Jack’s way. Had his cousin told Murphy?

“Small town, Ryan. You know that. A gnat can’t fart in this town without someone knowing about it.”

The crude comment evoked a titter of uneasy laughter from the men at the table, but it did nothing to ease the tension.

“Well? Tell us about her. What’s she like? What’s she askin’?” a farmer named Steven Tate finally blurted out.

The whole scene did not sit well with Ryan. He hated feeling as if he was a spy.

“Ryan, your grandfather knew how important it was for all of us farmers to stick together. You could learn a thing or two from Mac.”

That not-so-subtle warning from Murphy served to goose Ryan into reluctant action. “She’s nice enough. She asked the obvious questions—when did it start? How did it start? What had I done about it?”

Nobody spoke, not until Murphy had sopped up his grits and cheese with a bit of biscuit. “She seem satisfied with your answers?”

Translation: was Becca Reynolds going away anytime soon?

“For now…but she wants to nail down a detailed time line of the spread of the vine. She really wants to know how it got from Texas to here.”

That last bit was inspiration on Ryan’s part. Maybe he could force Murphy into revealing just how he’d pulled that trick. Murphy had been hinting for weeks that Gramps had had a hand in it…and the threat had a way of keeping Ryan in line.

But Murphy simply spat out a foul curse. “Detailed time line? What the hell’s the point? It’s here. She could see it. You showed her, right?”

“You have to admit, Murphy, it looks suspicious. No reports of infestation between here and Texas? Of course the first question the insurance company is going to ask is what train it rode in on.”

“Maybe we could buy her off,” offered Doug Oliver, who fidgeted with his cap. “She look like the type who could come to some sort of understanding?”

Murphy shot a quelling look at Oliver. “It’s too soon for that. But it raises a good question. She the type, you think, Ryan? If push comes to shove?”

“No. And I won’t be a part of it.” Ryan’s blood hissed in his ears.

Murphy’s answering chuckle was a short, sharp bark. “You’re already a part of it. You’re here, aren’t you? This dodder vine was your idea, wasn’t it?”

Ryan made to push his chair back. “I’m here out of respect for Gramps’s memory and his long association with most of you. You keep saying this whole thing was my idea, but I don’t have a clue in hell why you think that. I had nothing to do with any of this.”

“Nope. Not a clue. Didn’t tell Mac anything about a slam-dunk way to get crop insurance to pay off, did you?”

Ryan seethed at the way Murphy was twisting the truth. He would have shot back a reply, but Murphy had moved on.

“What’d you tell her? What’s she got planned?”

Believe me. I’m here to help. That’s what Becca had said to him last night, and damned if he didn’t believe her. But why? Why would she go out on a limb for the likes of him? What made her think he could be saved—was even worth saving?

“Ryan?”

Ryan dragged his thoughts back from Becca’s motivations. “She seems pretty bent on doing a thorough investigation…but on the flip side, she’s ready to give us the benefit of the doubt.”

“Maybe she’s angling for a little grease on the wheels, eh?” Oliver said.

Everybody ignored him. They waited for Murphy’s answer.

“She’s here for the long haul? Say anything about inspecting the other farms?”

“No, but I expect she will. She seems to know her stuff.”

“I don’t like it,” another farmer spoke up. “I thought this was supposed to be a slam dunk like Murphy said. After that insurance adjuster came, they were supposed to cut a check, and then we could start burning off our fields. As it is, I’m spending out the wazoo to tend a crop I for one didn’t think I’d have to be fooling with at this point. Pretty soon, I’ll be in the hole, even with the insurance money.”

“You’ll get your money,” Murphy told him. “Everybody just stick together, stick with the story, and you’ll get your money.”

“Maybe you guys should just cut your losses,” Ryan said. “I’m telling you, you let this stuff go unchecked for much longer while you wait on an insurance company to decide, and it’ll gain a foothold. Then next year you won’t even be able to put in a crop. You guys just don’t understand how bad this particular vine can be. It’s already jumped the cotton fields and got into Mee-Maw’s garden.”

To his satisfaction, Ryan heard a collective gasp. That’s right, scare ’em into doing the right thing.

But Murphy seemed unperturbed. “Well, now, Ryan. Guess that shows you how important it is that we get this woman in and out on the double-q. Before anything happens to y’all’s precious Mee-Maw. Glad to hear you’re grasping the situation.”

It took a moment for Ryan to catch Murphy’s drift. “You son of a—” Now he was on his feet, with Jack struggling to get up, too, but hampered by his leg. “You were the one who planted that stuff in—”

“That’s no way to talk to your gramps’s friends, is it? Mac never talked to us like that. All I was saying is that we need to answer this woman’s questions and send her on her merry way before that stuff spreads any more. After all, you know what it can do. So it’s in everybody’s best interest to persuade her to get this investigation over and done with.”

Tate leaned forward. “Murphy, if we can’t persuade her, then we might have to—” the farmer scratched his chin “—consider other options.”

The double meaning in Tate’s brief statement was enough to sink a flotilla. Ryan could barely hold on to his temper. The thought that Murphy had deliberately put that vine in Mee-Maw’s garden was enough to leave him speechless with rage.

But Tate practically threatening violence?

Murphy gave his head an abrupt shake. “You leave the Reynolds girl to me. Last thing we need to do is get her more suspicious. I know how to handle her kind. They come on strong, but when they see how things work in the real world…”

Behind Ryan, the glass door swung open. He turned to see Becca, clad in snug-fitting blue jeans and a V-necked T-shirt, taking in the gathering. Her eyes went from one farmer to the other, finally landing on Ryan.

Was it disappointment he saw in them?

BECCA KNEW A WAR ROOM when she saw one, and despite its Rotary banners spouting “Is it the truth?” this was most definitely a war room.