Caleb Mercer knew he had been deceived before his wagon ever reached the porch.
Smoke curled lazily from the farmhouse chimney.
That alone was enough.
According to the man who had sold him the property in Red Hollow, the chimney should have been cold since spring.
Caleb tightened the reins and watched a line of pale laundry move behind the house.
A woman's dress.
Two aprons.
Several white shirts.
Someone had washed them that morning.
A brown cow stood inside the half-collapsed fence, chewing slowly as though nothing about Caleb's arrival concerned her.
Then he smelled bread.
Warm bread.
Fresh enough that the scent carried through the open kitchen window and across the yard.
Caleb stopped the wagon.
Three women stood beneath the sagging porch roof.
They had been waiting for him.
The tallest stood in front.
She wore a deep forest-green dress buttoned high at the throat, the fitted bodice emphasizing a narrow waist and a strong, mature figure. Dark-brown hair was pinned neatly at the back of her head, though the wind had freed two strands near her cheeks.
Her green eyes held his without apology.
Beside her stood a red-haired woman in a rust-colored dress and cream apron.
Her arms were folded.
Her expression suggested she had already decided Caleb was probably trouble and intended to be disappointed only if necessary.
The youngest woman stood near the door.
Blonde braid.
Dusty-blue dress.
Hands clasped tightly before her.
She looked at Caleb with the particular caution of someone who had learned that strangers often arrived carrying consequences.
Caleb let the wagon roll another twenty feet.
The dark-haired woman stepped down one porch stair.
“You're Caleb Mercer.”
It was not a question.
His hand tightened around the reins.
“How do you know my name?”
“The deed arrived before you did.”
The red-haired woman spoke this time.
Caleb looked from one face to another.
He had traveled nine days to reach Red Hollow.
He had spent six years saving enough to own land.
Every callus on his hands belonged to this farm.
Or what he had believed was his farm.
He climbed down from the wagon.
“I bought this place legally.”
The three women exchanged looks.
Caleb noticed.
“You know something I don't.”
The dark-haired woman came down the remaining steps.
“My name is Eliza Hart.”
She pointed toward the porch.
“Nora Bell.”
The red-haired woman gave him a small nod.
“And Claire Avery.”
The blonde did not move.
Caleb removed his dusty hat.
“Caleb Mercer.”
“We know,” Eliza said again.
He almost smiled.
Almost.
“I was told nobody had lived here for months.”
Nora laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“I would like to meet the man who told you that.”
“You already have.”
Every woman became still.
Caleb watched their faces.
“Silas Vale.”
Claire's color disappeared.
Nora's arms unfolded.
Eliza's expression changed least, but Caleb saw her fingers curl against her skirt.
That was when his suspicion became certainty.
“You know him.”
Eliza reached into a pocket.
She removed a folded paper.
“We knew him.”
Caleb looked at the document but did not take it.
“What is that?”
“A contract.”
“For what?”
“The farm.”
Caleb held up the leather case containing his deed.
“So is this.”
“No.”
Eliza's voice hardened.
“Yours is a deed.”
“And yours?”
“A promise.”
“That sounds less useful.”
“It was supposed to become a deed.”
Caleb sighed.
He had already lost patience with riddles.
“Mrs. Hart.”
“Miss.”
“Miss Hart, I have been on the road since before sunrise. Every dollar I own is tied up in this property, and the man who sold it to me apparently lied before the ink dried.”
He looked at all three women.
“So somebody needs to explain why you're living in my house.”
Eliza stared at him.
Then she spoke calmly.
“You're supposed to make love to us.”
Caleb thought perhaps he had misunderstood.
Behind Eliza, Nora closed her eyes.
Claire's cheeks turned bright red.
The cow tore another mouthful of grass.
Caleb slowly put his hat back on.
“No.”
Eliza blinked.
“No?”
“No to whatever arrangement you're describing.”
He turned toward his wagon.
“No to contracts involving beds, surprise marriages, women included with property, or any other damn thing Silas Vale thought he was selling.”
“Wait.”
Nora hurried down the steps.
Caleb stopped.
“Eliza explained that badly.”
Caleb looked at Eliza.
She raised an eyebrow.
“I cannot imagine a version that improves it much.”
Claire made a tiny sound that might have been a suppressed laugh.
That surprised everyone.
Eliza recovered first.
“Silas promised this farm would belong to all four of us.”
“All four?”
“The three of us and the man he selected to manage it.”
Caleb stared.
“Manage it?”
“He called it a household partnership.”
Nora's mouth tightened.
“He used prettier words when he was asking us to trust him.”
Caleb faced them again.
“How long did Vale live here?”
“Two years,” Eliza said.
“With you?”
“Yes.”
“All three?”
“Yes.”
He rubbed his jaw.
“And was he married to any of you?”
“No.”
“Then what exactly did he promise?”
Eliza unfolded the contract.
“Shared ownership. Separate savings accounts. A percentage of the farm's income. The right to remain here whether we married or not.”
Caleb nodded toward the document.
“And the part about me?”
Eliza hesitated.
Nora looked away.
Claire's face reddened again.
“Vale believed,” Eliza said carefully, “that whoever eventually took his role would become part of the household.”
“What role?”
This time Nora answered.
“Husband.”
“To whom?”
Silence.
Caleb closed his eyes.
“All of you?”
“Yes,” Eliza said.
He stared at the sky.
“Good Lord.”
“That's what Claire said.”
Claire whispered, “Several times.”
Caleb looked toward the road.
He could leave.
At least physically.
Financially, leaving would destroy him.
He had paid twelve hundred dollars.
Everything he possessed.
The farm had supposedly been sold below value because Vale needed immediate cash before leaving Montana Territory.
Caleb had believed desperation explained the bargain.
Now he suspected theft explained it better.
He turned back.
“Did any of you agree to that part?”
Eliza's expression chilled.
“No.”
“Good.”
She looked almost offended.
“Good?”
“Yes.”
He pointed toward the paper.
“Because if Vale wrote that three women owed a stranger their beds because he owned the roof, then Vale was either a fool or a criminal.”
Nora studied him.
Claire finally looked directly at him.
Eliza's eyes narrowed.
“And what if the stranger wants what the contract promised?”
Caleb met her gaze.
“I don't.”
Something changed in her face.
Not relief exactly.
Perhaps surprise.
Caleb continued.
“I may be broke, angry, and currently unsure whether I own the ground beneath my boots, but I am not desperate enough to confuse property law with consent.”
Nora exhaled.
Claire's shoulders relaxed.
Eliza did neither.
She approached until only a few feet separated them.
“You bought this farm.”
“Yes.”
“You have an official deed?”
“Yes.”
“You spent everything?”
“Yes.”
“And you're willing to simply say the arrangement means nothing?”
“The part concerning your bodies means nothing.”
Eliza's eyes held his.
Caleb felt the scrutiny.
“The land is another question.”
“That is exactly the problem.”
She extended the worn contract.
This time Caleb accepted it.
The first page was straightforward.
Silas Vale had formed something called the Vale Agricultural Cooperative.
Eliza Hart contributed bookkeeping and poultry operations.
Nora Bell contributed household management and dairy production.
Claire Avery contributed field labor, seed stock, and a small inheritance.
Vale contributed title to the farm.
Each participant was supposedly entitled to twenty-five percent beneficial interest, with the remaining twenty-five percent reserved for a future managing partner.
Caleb read that line twice.
“You.”
Eliza nodded.
“Or whoever Silas chose.”
“How much money did you put into this place?”