Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Hanging up the phone in her office, Sage contemplated her conversations with someone at the prison and then with Detective Stewart.
Both men stated exactly what Adam had told her—he’d killed a man who’d been molesting a child, confessed to the crime, and pled guilty at a plea bargain hearing instead of making the child testify.
He’d been a model prisoner, counseling other inmates while he was there.
Good behavior and the low likelihood of committing another crime led the State to reduce his sentence.
Stewart had said if Adam’s case had gone to trial, he probably would have been found not guilty of murder due to the circumstances.
However, he’d refused to go that route—opting to pay for his crime by pleading to the lesser charge of manslaughter.
He also told her Adam was the kindest, most honorable man he knew.
Smiling, Sage eyed Adam’s empty plate and an untouched bowl of grits. “Maddie is an excellent cook, isn’t she? I take it you’re not a fan of grits.” The older woman had heaped the plate with bacon, eggs, hash browns, and toast with blueberry jam.
He chuckled. “Um… no, I’m not. I haven’t been able to develop a taste for them yet, but everything else was delicious. Please thank her for me.”
“You’ll be able to do that yourself at dinnertime… that is, if you still want the job.” She rattled off what his duties would entail, the meager pay, and a few other things. “Are you still interested?”
Taking off his cap, he nodded, then ran a hand through his dark-blond hair. It was thick and wavy, and for a split second, she wished it was her hand touching it before he covered it up again.
“Absolutely… and thank you. Where would you like me to start?”
Shaking off her wayward thoughts, she gestured to his duffel.
“Why don’t you go around back and see Evan—probably letting the horses out to pasture.
Ask him to let you into the cabin, and then he’ll put you to work.
I have to run into town to take care of a few things.
” And have a word with the bank manager, she thought to herself.
She was still steamed someone had discussed her financial situation with God-knew-who, and she’d be damned before she sold the ranch to Bart Sherman.
Just because his ancestors had been among the founding fathers of Rosewood didn’t mean he was entitled to know everything about everyone.
But he had been right. They’d been mortgage-free before Mark’s accident, but when the medical bills started rolling in, she’d had no choice but to use the property as collateral to pay for them.
Sometimes she hated living in a small town where everyone knew your business.
A short time later, after making sure six-year-old Jenna was playing happily with her dolls under Maddie Tanner’s watchful eye, Sage grabbed her purse and glanced around for her keys. “Matthew, let’s go! You’re going to be late for practice.”
Her son trudged out of his room, dragging his baseball bat behind him. His glove sat on his head. From his expression, one might think he was heading to the dentist for a root canal. “But Mooommm, I don’t wanna go. I suck at baseball.”
Sage placed her hands on her hips. “You were the one who insisted I sign you up for the summer league, so you’re going.
I’m not throwing away good money like that.
I paid for it, and you’re going.” Jeez, when had she become her own mother?
“Besides, you’ll get better with practice—hence the reason we have to get going.
We still have to swing by and get Toby.”
Toby Miller was Matthew’s best friend and the reason her son had wanted to join the league in the first place.
His mother, Ashley, was Sage’s best friend since elementary school, and the two women shared the carpooling duties for practically everything.
It was ironic that they’d both fallen for men in Rosewood after growing up an hour and a half away in Saddle Brook, Oklahoma.
In fact, Mark and Sage had introduced Ashley to her husband, Chris.
Reluctantly, Matthew followed her out to her five-year-old Chevy Tahoe, moaning and groaning the entire way. She rolled her eyes, knowing he would change his attitude when Toby climbed into the vehicle. After she heard the click of his seatbelt, she put the truck in drive.
“Mom?”
“Yes, buddy?”
“Is that man going to work for you? The one who was in prison? Does that make him a bad man?”
Turning onto the main road, Sage sighed.
How did she explain this? “Yes, Adam was in prison. He saw a man hurting a little boy, and he stopped him, but then the man got hurt. Adam took responsibility for what happened, and he went to prison. He’s paid the price for hurting the man, so he’s free now. ”
Her son seemed to think that over for a minute. “What happened to the other man? Did he go to prison for hurting the boy?”
“Yes, they punished him for what he did to the boy.” With the ultimate punishment, but Matthew didn’t need that detail.
“I want you to do me a favor, buddy. It’s nobody else’s business what happened to Adam in the past. He seems like a very nice man, and I don’t want anyone to think he’s bad because he was in prison, so can you keep that a secret? ”
He shrugged. “I guess so.”
“Good boy.”
She hoped Matthew could resist the temptation to tell one of his friends. She knew how small towns could be with strangers in their midst. Some people might try to run Adam out of town for the “sake of our community.” A few bible-thumpers came to mind.
After picking up Toby and dropping off both boys at the Little League field, she drove to the center of town and found a parking spot on Main Street.
First, she ran into the post office for some stamps.
Then, she selected some new books at the library for the entire family.
With those errands done, she dropped the pile on the front passenger seat of her vehicle before squaring off her shoulders and marching toward the bank.
It was time to have a word with the manager, Lyle Dillinger.
The man didn’t appear to be happy to see her, and the feeling was mutual, but she wasn’t backing down, striding right through his open office door, bypassing his receptionist, who was on the phone. It took everything in her not to slam the door, instead shutting it with a quiet click.
She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Lyle, do you mind telling me how Bart Sherman knows about me being behind on my mortgage? It’s nobody else’s business but mine and the bank’s.”
Tossing his pen onto the desk he sat behind, Dillinger leaned back in his chair and gave her that superior look she’d hated for as long as she’d known him.
“I have no idea how he found out, and I really don’t care.
What I do care about is that you are indeed behind.
If you don't make several back payments soon, Sage, I'll be forced to start foreclosure proceedings.”
“I told you, the foals are being weaned now, and four already have buyers under contract. They’ll be paid for and picked up next month.
” The other six January foals were slated for sale in August, but that money would go toward later mortgage payments and the ranch’s operating and household expenses.
“As soon as those first four sales are finalized, I’ll have enough money in my account to bring the mortgage up to date.
All I’m asking for is a little more time. ”
The man sighed heavily as if she were asking him to forget the loan altogether and let her live in her home for free.
She was tempted to remind him that if Mark hadn’t tutored him, he would never have passed the social studies class he’d needed to graduate high school.
The little twit owed him a little gratitude—and since Mark was gone, she should have inherited it.
What made the situation even more infuriating was that the ranch wasn’t failing.
Her financial problems had started with Mark’s accident two and a half years ago and the medical bills that had forced her to mortgage property his family had owned free and clear for generations.
While Mark had been in a coma, she’d forgotten all about the November thirtieth deadline for the foals’ registration paperwork.
By the time she realized her mistake after his death, the late-filing penalties had eaten through most of what remained of their personal savings.
Somehow, she’d managed to keep everything going since then.
But this past winter had dealt her another financial blow.
Feed and hay costs had climbed, and in January, she’d lost one of their best breeding mares during a difficult birth, along with the stillborn foal.
The loss had cost the ranch thousands in expected income and taken a valuable mare out of a breeding program the Hammond family had spent generations building.
With no cash reserves left to absorb another setback, she’d fallen behind on the mortgage.
Now she just needed enough time for the ranch to start generating income again.
“You have until July fifteenth, Sage. Then, I’ll have to go over to the courts.”
The fifteenth would cut it close. Baby Ruth’s colt was scheduled to be picked up on July twenty-first, and the other three would be sold later that month.
Maybe the buyer from Texas would be willing to come a week earlier if she explained the situation.
Even getting the money from one sale before the deadline might be enough to convince the banker to give her a few more days for the rest.
She was about to give a counteroffer when the door behind her opened, and Joann Dillinger walked in. Not only was she Lyle’s mother, but the statuesque woman was also the elementary school principal and one of the nicest people Sage knew—and just like that, her prayer was answered.