Page 35 of All We Carry Home

I nodded, tension tightening in my chest. I’d have to come clean about the situation, no matter how ashamed I felt. “When I returned home, I learned how far behind Gramps had let things fall. Including in payments to the bank.”

Warren leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and folding his hands together. “How far behind was he?”

I looked out at the quiet, muted lands around the house. Phantom was a glowing white shadow in the evening hue as he grazed on hay. The barn lights were off, the broodmares tucked in for the night. The chickens had all nested in their coop, and only the humming of cicadas and chirping of frogs could be heard.

“It’s dire,” I whispered. “I’ve sold every spare piece of equipment, put the call out to every local rancher who might need a horse trained. With Phantom’s training fees, I’ll barely be able to keep the bank at bay.”

Should any unexpected expense come along . . .

Warren nodded. “What about the farm loans through the VA?”

Defeat rushed in on me at the reminder. “I’ve appealed, but so far my paperwork keeps hitting a dead end. I’m unmarried, and they don’t know what to do with me as a female farm owner.”

I caught a small glimmer of humor in his eyes and sensed he was thinking about his earlier joke about us getting married. It did lighten my mood, slightly.

“The bank won’t renegotiate terms?” Warren asked.

“Not with Victor—a guaranteed cash sale—waiting in the wings.”

Eddie resumed his pacing.

I stood up. “I’ll carry on as long as I can.”

“I can help,” Warren said, standing as well.

“You already are.” I held his gaze. “You’re doing more than I could ask of any client, and I can’t accept anything further.”

“Eva,” Eddie said with a somber look, which felt out of place from the man who always smiled. “We can’t just ignore the threat they’ve made against you.”

“I can’t let that rule my life either.”

“Eva.” Warren’s look of defiance and determination morphed into a tender, apologetic pleading. I didn’t want his sympathy. His patronage, yes, in exchange for the work I did with his horse. I wouldn’t accept charity.

“I’ll talk to Keith about it,” I offered.

A shadow fell over Warren’s face. “Are you sure he can be trusted?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “I consider him a friend.”

Eddie and Warren passed a quick look between them.

“Keith implied . . .” Warren cleared his throat. “That you were more than friends.”

Blast it all. Why would Keith have said such a thing? He knew it was over between us.

From inside the kitchen, the faint clinking of silverware turned into the sound of the running faucet and stacking of ceramic plates. I didn’t want the children to overhear this.

“We’ll finish this another time.” I glanced at my wristwatch. “I’m due in town.”

“For what at this hour?” Eddie asked, looking at his own watch. “It’s nearly eight o’clock.”

“I volunteer for a few night shifts a week at the hospital.”

Warren frowned. “When do you sleep?”

“Volunteer?” Eddie asked. “Why don’t you work there for some extra cash?”

“St. Elizabeth’s doesn’t have the budget,” I said. “And I need the flexibility to not go in when I need to be here.”