The Marriage Agreement. Renee Ryan

children.

      Releasing a heartfelt sigh, Annabeth linked her arm through Fanny’s. “Johnny’s very good with Christopher. Of course, I’m not surprised. He was the best big brother.”

      Fanny blinked at her sister-in-law in confusion. Then she remembered that Jonathon—or rather, Johnny—had lived in Mattie’s brothel as a child. His path must have crossed Annabeth’s often, probably even daily.

      What else did she know about him?

      Curiosity drove Fanny to pry. “What was he like as a boy?”

      “Loyal, caring, a bit wild, but also protective of the other children. He...” Annabeth paused a moment, as if gathering her thoughts. “I guess you could say he kept a part of himself separate. He was friendly, but he didn’t have a lot of friends.”

      He must have been so lonely, always watching out for others. Oh, Jonathon, who watched out for you? Fanny’s heart hurt for the little boy he’d once been.

      “That’s not to say the other children didn’t adore him. They did. Everyone looked up to him, even the girls.” Annabeth laughed as if caught in a happy memory. “Especially the girls.”

      The boy Annabeth just described was much like the man he was today. Good. Kind. Distant. Fanny had more questions, lots more, but another commotion broke out at the hotel’s entrance.

      Her second oldest brother pushed into the lobby, his wife and three children in tow.

      Her smile returned full force.

      Logan and his family had arrived.

      * * *

      Later that afternoon, Jonathon stood in the conference room, impatiently biding his time. He wanted to begin negotiations at once, but the remaining Mitchell brother had only just arrived at the hotel. Coming straight off the train from Saint Louis, Garrett had promised to join them as soon as he helped his young wife get settled in their room.

      That had been over thirty minutes ago.

      Since Garrett’s wife was with child as well, Jonathon figured getting her settled meant more than merely helping with the luggage. If the man was anything like his older brother, there was bound to be a good deal of husbandly smothering.

      Jonathon felt a jolt of...something churn in his gut. Jealousy? Regret? Neither emotion had any place in today’s meeting. He shoved the futile thoughts aside and attempted to get down to business.

      Hunter stopped him midsentence. “We’ll wait for Garrett. We make decisions as a family, or not at all.”

      Considering the nature of his relationship with own brother, Jonathon was both intrigued and baffled by the united front. He knew Hunter and Logan hadn’t always been close. They’d actually been on opposite sides of the law for years and, according to some accounts, even enemies.

      But now they were as close as any brothers Jonathon had run across. They even owned neighboring ranches connected to their parents’ larger spread, which said a lot about their commitment to family.

      At last, the door swung open and Garrett Mitchell entered the conference room in a rush.

      “Sorry I’m late.” The besotted smile on his face said otherwise. “Molly needed me to help her switch hats, and then we somehow got tangled up. The laughing began next, and well, here I am at last, better late than never.”

      “Save the excuses, little brother.” Logan lifted his hand in the air. “We all know you just wanted to spend extra time with Molly.”

      Garrett’s grin widened. “Jealous?”

      Logan snorted. “Have you seen my wife? She’s always the most beautiful woman in the room.”

      “Unless, of course,” Garrett countered, “my wife is in the room.”

      “Or mine,” Hunter added.

      Since Jonathon had known all three women in question before they’d met and married the Mitchell men, he kept his mouth shut on the matter. Each of their wives was special in her own way. Beautiful, smart, the very essence of goodness.

      Jonathon nodded to Burke. His assistant shut the outer door to the conference room.

      The brothers fell silent.

      “Gentleman, if you will have a seat.” Jonathon motioned them to the table in the middle of the room. “We’ll begin.”

      They remained where they were, standing shoulder to shoulder. Three against one. Not the worst odds Jonathon had ever faced.

      Normally, he enjoyed a tough negotiation, especially if pitted against a worthy opponent or, as in this particular case, several worthy opponents. However, the outcome of today’s meeting was too important to indulge in the thrill that came from a proper battle.

      Jonathon got straight to the point. “I recently acquired the property that runs along your northern border and—”

      “So you’re the anonymous Denver businessman who purchased Ebenezer Foley’s ranch,” Logan said, with the barest hint of bitterness.

      Jonathon understood the man’s frustration. It was no secret the Mitchell brothers had wanted the land. But Ebenezer Foley had nursed a lifelong hatred for the entire family. He’d carried that animosity to the grave. On his deathbed, he’d instructed his son to sell his ranch to anyone but a Mitchell.

      Mouth set in a grim line, Hunter crossed his arms over his chest. “You didn’t ask us here merely to tell us you bought the land directly north of ours.”

      “No. I want to make an offer on the three hundred acres you jointly own that run along my southern border, including the dilapidated train depot. I’m willing to pay 10 percent above the going rate, as you will see in the offer my attorney drew up. Take a look.”

      He pointed to the files laid out on the conference table in a tidy row.

      A silent message passed between the brothers before they stepped forward and opened the files with identical flicks of their wrists.

      Hunter and Logan skimmed their gazes across the top page. Garrett Mitchell actually picked up the sale agreement and read through the legal document, page by page. It made sense he would take the time to consider the offer in its entirety, being an attorney who specialized in sales and acquisitions.

      After a moment, Garrett looked up. “The asking price is more than fair, as are the other terms.”

      “Nevertheless.” Hunter took a step back from the table. “We have one rule in our family when it comes to business. Mitchell land stays in Mitchell hands. We can’t sell you the property.”

      Every muscle in Jonathon’s back tightened and coiled. He forcibly relaxed his shoulders, then felt them bunch again. “Can’t or won’t?”

      “Does it matter?”

      No. He supposed it didn’t.

      Jonathon showed none of his reaction on his face, but inside he burned with frustration. To come so far...

      “I’ll pay an additional 10 percent per acre.”

      “Still no.” Hunter said the words, but the other two men nodded in silent agreement.

      And that, Jonathon realized, was the end of the negotiations. Five minutes, that’s all it had taken.

      The worst part, the very worst part, was that he respected the Mitchell brothers’ reasons for not selling. Mitchell land stays in Mitchell hands.

      There were other comparable properties near Denver. Two even had run-down train depots similar to the one on the Mitchell property. But none of the available parcels had a river running through the land. The natural water source made the Mitchell parcel ideal.

      “You’re a busy man,” Hunter said. “Our decision is final. We won’t take up any more of your time.”