Valerie Hansen - Dangerous Legacy

“Praying always helps me,” Faye said as she cleared the table.

“Okay, what do I ask for? I used to pray Flint would come back to me, but he didn’t.”

“Really?”

Maggie noted her mother’s raised eyebrows. “I meant when I needed him, not now.”

“In whose opinion?”

“Oh, no. No way.” She was shaking her head. “My life is in order and I’m happy. This is a terrible time for Flint to suddenly show up.”

“Well, he did, and since you say he has a job here, I expect he’s planning to stay. Maybe he’s turned over a new leaf and is hoping you’ll take him back.”

“That’s not why he transferred.” Maggie pulled a face. “He told me it was because Bess and Ira needed help.”

“Oh, dear. That certainly complicates things.”

Maggie agreed. “I had no idea how much until you told me the whole feud story. Elwood may not even care that Flint’s a game warden. He may hate him more because he’s helping his great-grandparents. For all I know, Flint may be living with them on the farm the way he used to when he was a kid.”

“Sounds like we should both pray for peace before we ask the Lord for anything else. I’ll have a chat with Harlan the next time I see him, too.”

That comment drew a slight smile from Maggie. “You mean you don’t rely totally on prayers?”

Faye chuckled. “Prayers come first. But the way I see it, there’s nothing wrong with depending on the people God has put in my life, as well. He gave us brains. I imagine He expects us to use them. And if that means alerting the sheriff, then that’s what I’ll do.”

“You’re going to tell him everything?”

“About the feud, yes. Any conclusions he chooses to draw regarding my grandson will be up to him. I don’t suppose there are too many folks who don’t already suspect who Mark’s daddy is.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Well, don’t be. You made a mistake, turned your life around and God forgave you. Besides, you ended up with a beautiful child. That can’t be bad.”

“Then why do I feel so guilty?” She began to pace. “If only Flint hadn’t left when he did.”

“What excuse did he give?” Faye asked.

“None. One day he was here and the next he was gone. You know that. You helped me pick out my prom dress and then went with me to return it after he stood me up.”

“Yes. I remember. I just thought...”

“What?” Pausing, Maggie peered at her.

“Nothing. My memory of those days is kind of foggy. I had a lot on my mind, what with your daddy’s illness and all.”

Maggie slipped an arm around her mother’s shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. “I know. I’m sorry you had to worry about me so much then, too. You had a lot on your plate.” She glanced at the sink. “Speaking of plates, why don’t I help you finish the dishes before we go join the boys?”

Smiling wistfully, Faye agreed. “Okay. I guess I should be thankful you adopted a dog for Mark’s playmate instead of taming a raccoon.”

“Or a skunk,” Maggie teased. “Good thing my job teaches me to avoid making pets of my patients. Some of those baby animals are adorable.”

“Not as adorable as my grandson.”

Despite herself, Maggie silently added, Or his daddy.

When Flint had first shown up at the compound, every nerve in her body insisted he was nothing but trouble. Then, after he’d shoved her out of the line of fire, she simply credited his actions to his training and combat experience. But when he’d tracked her into the woods after the accident and offered comfort, she lost her defensive edge. Fortifications she’d erected around her tender heart had been breached. Cracked. Left crumbling.

She didn’t love Flint, she argued. Not the way she once had. And yet there was something there. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Something almost as scary as the apparent threats to her continued safety and well-being. And that of her son. Their son: hers and Flint’s. An innocent child caught between the past and the present, whose future might be in jeopardy because of the sins of his parents.

Maggie finally understood why her own family had tried so hard to keep her away from Flint.

Too bad their efforts had come too late.

FIVE

Flint’s division headquarters was in Mammoth Spring and included six counties, meaning he wouldn’t normally have been sent to officially visit Maggie’s rehab center if Captain Lang hadn’t made it a priority.

The sheriff had graciously agreed to keep an eye on her when chores on his great-grandparents’ farm kept Flint too busy. The place had really deteriorated while he was away. No sooner did he repair one thing than another broke. He’d finished nailing down the leaky barn roof and then the tractor had refused to start so he could use it to restack bales of hay.

Flint saw only one viable solution. He’d have to convince the elderly couple to stop farming. A successful operation needed a lot more supervision and daily care than he was able to give it. Ira could hire his hay cut and baled, but without good cattle management he’d go deeper in debt every year, and the stubborn old man insisted on keeping all the records himself.

Using a rag to wipe black grease off his hands, Flint headed for the house.

Bess met him at the back door with a smile. “Good. I was just coming to get you. Lunch is ready.”

“Okay. Let me wash up first.” Although she was in her eighties, Bess still had the kind of energy and zest for life Flint remembered from his youth. She wore her gray hair in a long braid and perched her glasses on the end of her nose to peer over them even though they were bifocals.

It had been a bit of a shock to return and find such big changes in everything else. The house was in better shape than the outbuildings, but not by much. It needed painting as well as several new sections of chimney pipe to safely vent the wood-burning stove. Flint had already suggested they add propane heaters and had had his idea totally rejected, even after offering to pay for the tank and installation.

Still pondering the immense task of fixing the old house, he joined the older couple at the kitchen table. Ira had always been the one to say a prayer of thanks for the food, but since Flint had returned, Bess had begun asking him to do it.

He slid his chair up to the table and noted that Ira was already eating. “Sorry I’m late. I didn’t want to show up with tractor grease under my nails. Did you say grace, Papaw?”

The old man’s rheumy, greenish eyes were focused on the distance and he was eating as if by habit rather than for enjoyment the way he used to.

“He was starving,” Bess said, “so we started without you. Gotta keep my hungry husband happy.”

“No problem.” Flint followed by a quick bow of his head and a soft “Amen.”

“So, did you get the roof nailed down good?”

He met her questioning gaze with one of his own. “Uh-huh. How long has it been since Papaw ran that tractor? It’s a mess. I had to drain the fuel and clean the filters before it would do more than cough a few times. It’s running rough now, but at least it’s running.”

“We haven’t had a lot of need for our own machinery lately,” Bess said. “We hire most things done. That’s sensible at our age.”

Glancing at Ira as she spoke, Flint waited for some sign of agreement. What he got, instead, was a muttered curse, something the confused old man would never have done if he’d been in his right mind.

“I’ll be glad to do whatever I can on my days off,” Flint said, “but you really need more help around here than that.”

“Don’t need nothin’ from nobody,” Ira mumbled gruffly.

Well, at least he’s speaking, Flint thought, wondering how to best keep him engaged. This kind of attitude, let alone peppered with bad language, was not like the man he’d idolized from the moment his great-grandparents took him in and provided a stable home.