Chapter Four
CHAPTER FOUR
The weekends at Rainbow Ranch were always busy, but Monday was Devlin’s day off. Though clients might show up he kept a low profile, and would often ride Belle or Marge up the Smoky Hill trail with Jethro and Jezebel running along beside them. He could rely on his two ranch hands, Jimmy and Mike, to stay on top of things while he was gone.
Standing at his kitchen window drinking his second cup of coffee, he spotted a black Corvette rolling slowly down his gravel driveway. It was low to the ground, and a ridiculous car to drive to a ranch. At least the weather was cooperating and there were no potholes or mud puddles, but knowing it would be Portia Peyton and her lawyer he almost wished there were. Mentally preparing himself, he placed his cup on the counter and strode out to the porch. A moment later Sheriff Cooper’s cruiser appeared and quickly caught up with the sports car still creeping its way to the front of the house.
Devlin was about to trot down the steps when the Corvette’s doors swung open and Portia stepped from the car. He stopped mid-step and caught his breath. He wasn’t expecting the girl to arrive wearing hip hugging jeans and a provocative cut-off T-shirt. The clothes did little to hide her voluptuous figure, and she was even more beautiful in person than in the video.
“I’m William Buckley, Miss Peyton’s lawyer.”
Darting his eyes to a tall man marching towards him, Devlin disliked him on sight. He looked as polished as the ostentatious car he’d been driving. His dark hair was meticulously styled, his khaki slacks had a pressed seam down the middle, and his brown leather loafers sported the identifiable gold Gucci horse bit. The only thing that wasn’t eye-catching was his plain white polo shirt, though it was starkly white.
“Hello, I’m Devlin Hatfield,” Devlin exclaimed, extending his hand.
While the handshake itself was firm enough, William’s palm was baby skin soft, and his nails were manicured. Devlin didn’t judge people, but in addition to his pristine appearance, William Buckley carried himself with a supercilious air.
“And obviously this is my client, Portia Peyton.”
“Hi,” Portia said, lifting her hand in a wave. “I’m really sorry about everything.”
Though she sounded sincere, Devlin wasn’t convinced.
“Mornin’ Devlin!” the sheriff said, striding up to join them.
“Mornin’, Sheriff. Please, everyone, come inside,” Devlin offered, then trotted back up the steps and opened the door. “Right through there” he continued, pointing to his study as Portia approached. She looked nervous, which surprised him. He’d expected her to be annoyed, or bored, or arrogant, but she didn’t appear to be any of those things.
Devlin had chosen the room because it was where his trophies and awards were displayed. Shiny cups and medals sat gleaming in a tall glass case, and the walls sported countless ribbons and framed certificates. As she entered he heard her gasp, and when William followed her in, Devlin saw him stop and stare.
“Shall we get down to business?” the sheriff suggested. “Devlin, do you want to outline your proposal?”
“How did you achieve all this, Mr. Hatfield,” Portia asked before Devlin had a chance to respond. “There’s so much here.”
“Call me Devlin, and it’s been years of blood, sweat and tears. When things get tough I come in here to remind myself I really do know what I’m doin’. But, yes, Sheriff Cooper, I’ll be happy to.”
“Sorry, Devlin, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Portia said, looking him in the eye. “It’s just so much to take in.”
“Not a problem. Have a seat.”
“So, let’s hear it,” William demanded as Portia sat down.
“I know your client is a wealthy young woman,” Devlin began, fixing the lawyer with a steely stare before turning his eyes back to her. “The money it would cost to make the repairs wouldn’t amount to loose change for you. Heck, I expect buyin’ me a new truck would probably be like a raindrop in a winter storm.”
“Might I remind you, Mr. Hatfield, my client will also be facing charges.”
“William, let him speak,” Portia said impatiently. “Sorry, Devlin, you were saying?”
“You’ll be payin’ fines, but from what I understand there won’t be any other penalties, No jail time or even community service. Even if you lose your license you could easily afford a full time chauffeur to drive you around.”
“So…what’s the bottom line?” she asked, her voice tinged with nervousness. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to work here at the ranch for thirty days.”
“Doing what?” William interjected brusquely.
“I accept!” Portia replied quickly, ignoring her lawyer’s question. “When do you want me to start.”
“Hold on, I don’t think this is a good idea,” William continued. “Portia, you’re not some girl off the streets who needs hard labor. You’re a—”
“I’ve made up my mind,” she exclaimed, cutting him off. “I’ve never been around horses and Helen is always talking about how great it is.”
“This won’t be a picnic. There’ll be hard work,” Devlin warned. “Don’t get me wrong, I won’t be unfair, but I won’t be easy either.”
“Mr. Buckley, bear in mind this deal was made in conjunction with the D.A.,” the sheriff piped up, “It’s part of Miss Peyton’s sentencing. If you choose not to accept she’ll be looking at further charges, and possible jail time.”
“Jail time!” Portia shouted, jumping to her feet. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Where do I sign.”
“Here’s the contract,” Devlin announced, lifting a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. “I’m no lawyer and it’s very simple.”
“Give me that,” William demanded, striding over to him.
“I know how to read,” she shot back, but before she could take it, William snatched it from Devlin’s hand.
“This is ridiculous,” the lawyer exclaimed. “It has more holes in it than a slice of Swiss cheese. I’ll have to redraft it and—”
“The deal’s off!” Devlin said calmly. “It was nice to meet you, Portia. I suspect next time we meet it will be in a courtroom.”
“No! Wait!” she shouted, grabbing the paper from William and striding across to the antique, roll top desk against the wall. “There you are, Devlin,” she exclaimed, scribbling her name on the signature line. “When would you like me to start?”
“Be here tomorrow at nine, and wear old clothes. They’ll get dirty.”