Chapter Twelve #2
“The zoning on the Willow Creek is not what you would expect. Before he sold the ranch, Mr. Weston petitioned to have it changed from AG agriculture to commercial/multiuse. But nothing came of it. He must have had plans that fell through, so he sold to Mr. Jordan.”
Jordan rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, wondering if this meant anything at all. But like Maya said, the more information, the better.
“Thank you, Sara,” Jordan said.
“Glad to help,” the woman said before ending the call.
Jordan looked at Lil who simply shook her head.
“None of this seems worthy of shooting a cow,” she muttered.
“Unless R. F. Weston’s plans are being resurrected.”
*
“You should have let him take on the bobcat,” Jordan said as the gray and white kitten launched yet another attack on his boot, wrapping himself around the leather shaft then kicking with his hind feet while biting the lace.
“I’d save you, but his little teeth are really sharp.” Lil forked the last bit of straw from the goat pen, then set the fork on top.
Jordan waited for the kitten to spring free before making his escape. The little guy resumed attack position, but Jordan managed to sidestep him. He opened the breaker box and flipped a switch as the kitty regrouped. “Give it a try.”
The lights came on and stayed on.
“Let’s hope I got it this time.”
The kitten sprang at Jordan again, then darted off to disappear in a crack between hay bales as Meg came in through the man door. “I’m taking off,” she said.
After her sister disappeared, Lil ambled over to Jordan’s side. “I’m going to spray along the road.”
“Want me to come with you?”
“I want you to fix the broken boards on the windbreak.”
“That’s done.”
“Then I guess you’ll just have to spend the morning relaxing.”
Right. “Maybe you could help me with that later.”
She patted his chest and gave him a look that made him want to relax right now. “I think I can work it in.”
Less than ten minutes, after Lil headed off in the ATV towing the sprayer, Jordan’s phone, which he’d left in the trailer while he worked on the barn’s plugged rain gutter, rang. He jogged to the trailer to answer it, hoping he was about to hear on the mortgage.
Instead, it was Jim Reed, Wade’s neighbor.
After saying hello, the man didn’t appear to know how to continue. He was clearly uncomfortable.
“Is there a problem?” Jordan asked.
“I just got an offer on the property I sectioned off for sale. It’s over the asking price.”
“How much over?”
“Fifteen percent.”
Jordan’s gut tightened. Did it make sense to match a price that much over market? “Did you list the property?”
“No.” Jim said adamantly. “I told you that I’d hold it for two months and I am, but gossip gets around.”
Jordan thought back to the courthouse and Sara mentioning that she’d worked on the subdivision. It wouldn’t be a huge leap to go from subdivision to sale.
“Who made the offer?”
“Don’t know. A lady named Lexington got hold of me. I checked her out. She’s legitimate. Offices in Bozeman.”
Jordan thought for a moment. “Would you do me a favor, Jim? Would you call and ask her the name of the potential buyer?”
“Sure. Why?”
“Because something very much like this happened to me with the Willow Creek. I got the offer before probate was done.”
“You think there’s something funny going on?”
“Not necessarily. In your case, it might just be a matter of people checking public records.”
“What about with you?”
“Probably the same, but … if you don’t mind asking.”
“I will. I need to call her anyway.”
Well, shit.
Jordan scuffed the gravel with his boot as he studied the ground.
So much for fifty percent down and high interest rates from private money.
What the fuck was he going to do now? A purchase using the Willow Creek as collateral would take more time than he had available and he’d lost out on the quick cash deal via Jess Connery.
The raw land deal was his only avenue, but it looked like even if that was successful, this other buyer had beaten him to the punch.
Jim Reed’s name appeared on his phone screen less than half an hour later.
“She says she can’t tell me who the buyer is,” Jim said. “Some confidentiality thing.”
Jordan wondered if that was true or if this buyer was enough of a force that real estate brokers did as they were told. He’d text Maya and get her opinion.
“Sorry about that. I don’t have to come to a decision for a few days,” he said.
“I’d appreciate you taking those days, Jim. I’m waiting for an answer from the bank.” Maybe he could match the price if he got a positive answer. But he still felt duty-bound to say, “I don’t want to screw up your sale.”
“Oh, I’ll look out for myself all right.”
Jordan ended the call, then let his head tip back.
He considered calling his brothers, then thought about Hayes, who was rapidly destroying his rodeo wild man reputation by settling down and going to school.
Trev wasn’t far behind him. There was a chance, probably a slim one, but a chance all the same that they’d try to talk him out of the scheme unfolding in his head.
Nope. There was only one man to call.
Jordan hoped he didn’t live to regret it.
*
“Why are we doing this again?” Burke asked two hours later as they pulled into Livingston.
“Because I don’t want my brothers to get arrested.”
“Mmm.” Burke accepted the explanation at face value. “So my part is …”
“To look menacing and not get arrested. In other words, don’t help.”
Burke looked baffled at the idea of not helping but nodded.
The chair behind the receptionist’s desk was empty when Jordan and Burke walked into Jess Connery’s offices, but a short redheaded woman bustled out of a back room as soon as the door closed.
“I’m here to see Jess,” Jordan said pleasantly.
“Mr. Connery is in a phone meeting.”
“He’ll want to see me,” Jordan said.
“Tell him it’s about a cow,” Burke added helpfully. “A dead one.”
The woman gave them a wary look, then took a few steps down the hall and opened the heavy door to Connery’s office.
“I thought I told you not to help,” Jordan said in a low voice.
Burke shrugged.
Despite hushed tones, Jordan could make out some of the conversation in Connery’s office. He hoped the guy didn’t climb out a window after his associate described Burke.
“He’ll see you,” she said, her face set in rigid lines.
Connery’s expression was livid when they entered the room and Burke closed the door behind them. “I told you that I had nothing to do with that cow.”
“Not even by proxy?” Jordan asked.
Connery twitched, which was all Jordan needed.
“I want the name of your client. The one who wanted to buy the Willow Creek.”
“I can’t give you that.”
“Why?”
Connery’s gaze shifted as Burke made a low sound in his throat. “Because it’s an LLC, not a person. I only spoke to a representative.”
“Why not just say that upfront?”
“They preferred I did not.” He adjusted the lapels of his jacket as he spoke.
Connery was regaining his composure, and Jordan couldn’t let that happen. Burke seemed to sense this, too. He started to speak, but Jordan gave him a not-so-subtle nudge with his elbow.
“I want the name of the LLC. And the rep.”
“I have some things in the works with this company. I can’t have you screwing that up by making unfounded accusations.”
“Not an answer,” Jordan said, leaning his palms on the desk. “Tell me something, Jess. Have you hired someone to harass my tenants?”
Connery didn’t so much as blink. “What do you mean?”
“You know what we mean,” Burke said with a sneer.
Jordan didn’t try to rein him in.
“I know shit,” Connery said, his gaze flicking from Jordan to Burke as he answered.
Burke was a big man, and Connery was right to be wary.
“Joe Whitney?” Jordan asked.
The color drained from Connery’s face.
The man’s blood vessels were getting a workout that day. “Never heard of him,” he gritted out.
“Give me the name of the LLC and we’ll go away.” He glanced at Burke, then back at Connery. “Easy as that.”
Connery shifted in his chair as Burke folded his arms over his chest. “If you screw things up for me, you’ll regret it.” His tone lacked conviction.
Jordan spread his hands in an inviting gesture.
The broker tightened his jaw then blurted, “The LLC is R. F. Weston.”
R. F. Weston?
Jordan felt like the air had just left his body, but he managed to casually push off the desk. “There. Was that so hard?”
Connery pulled a sharp breath in through his nose. “Get out of my office or I’m calling the cops.”
“Yeah. I don’t think so,” Jordan said. “I want a meeting.”
“What?” Connery pulled his chin to his chest.
“I want to meet face-to-face. Tell the rep.” The or else was implied.
“I can’t promise that will happen.”
“Try,” Jordan said before nudging Burke and the two of them headed toward the door.
“I’m contacting my lawyer,” Connery said to their backs. “Make any of these claims public and you’ll regret it.”
Jordan lifted a hand before turning the corner into the hallway.
After striding past the stunned-looking assistant and pushing through the tinted glass exit door, he and Burke walked side by side to the truck.
“Damn. That was good,” Burke said as if he’d just enjoyed a big steak dinner. “How’d you know about Whitney?”
“Guessed.” He’d tossed out the name on a hunch and hit paydirt.
“Good guess. You totally caught him off guard.” Burke beamed. “Am I forgiven for the big trailer escape now? You got your name, and you wouldn’t have done that without me.”
“Yes,” Jordan said honestly. “Totally forgiven.”