Black Single Dad Went Looking for Work on a Farm — He Didn't Know a Millionaire Would Make Him Rich
Chapter 18
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"From D. Mercer, Ridgeline Development: Did the hay get wet? Second payment ready when it does."Nobody spoke. The rain pattered softly on the roof of the cruiser.Boyd opened the rear door of his car and stood beside it. "Get in, Wade. Watch your head."This time, it was Wade Harland who walked slowly to the back of a police cruiser while everyone watched. The door closed behind him with a heavy thud.Clare stood in the gravel and let out a long, shaking breath."Nine months," she said softly. "Nine months I've known somebody was helping them, and I couldn't prove a thing." She looked at the phone in Boyd's hand. "My attorneys will have Ridgeline in court by Monday. The bank won't touch my loan once they see this." She turned to Luke. "You didn't just save my hay today. You saved High Meadow."By the time Boyd's cruiser disappeared through the gate, the storm had passed. The rain softened to a gentle drizzle, and the last light of evening broke through the clouds in long bands of gold and violet above the Allegheny Mountains.Luke picked Toby up and held him against his chest. The boy laid his head on his father's shoulder, still clutching the wooden train.Clare walked with them to the foot of the porch steps. She went inside, then came back out with a thick manila envelope and a cold metal canteen."Drink this first," she said. "The spring water from the south well is the coldest on the mountain."Luke drank deeply and handed the canteen back. "The barn is full, Miss Vance," he said. "1,520 bales stacked eight high. The knotter's clean and oiled for the next cutting. By my count, I worked six hours. At $12 an hour, that's $72."Clare looked at him, and then at the sleeping boy on his shoulder. "Where is his mother, Luke?" she asked."She passed last December," Luke said, his jaw tightening. "Heart failure. We fought it for two years."Clare closed her eyes for a moment. Then she held out the envelope.Luke looked at it, but did not raise his hand. "Miss Vance, $72 is what we agreed on. I don't take charity.""Then listen to me, Luke Callahan," Clare said, and a fierce, beautiful smile broke across her face. "This isn't charity. It's an investment."She took his right hand, turned it palm up, and pressed the envelope against his bandaged skin."Inside is $2,000 cash. That's the standard contractor's fee for saving a whole cutting ahead of a storm. But that's only the beginning." She pointed toward the eastern ridge where the two-story stone house sat among the apple trees, its dark green shutters glistening in the last light. "My father lived in that house while he built this one. It has three bedrooms, a stone fireplace, and 40 acres of orchard around it. As of tonight, the house and the land are yours, deeded in your name."