Mac frowned. The letter had been sent a week earlier, and he hadn’t noticed it while he dealt with family matters and Abercrombie’s interference. It was tempting to blame his inattention on others—particularly on Abercrombie—but his investments were his responsibility. And now he had lost an opportunity.
He needed to respond to salvage the relationship he’d developed with Ladd. He picked up his quill and wrote:
July 20, 1864
Dear Sir:
Due to matters of a personal nature, I have only just read your communication of July 8. I understand your need to seek other shareholders, and if you have already done so, I wish you the utmost success in your endeavor. If shares remain to be had, I am still interested, and I would appreciate the opportunity to work with you on your banking project and on other developments in the future.
Respectfully,
There, Mac thought, as he signed his name. That was the best he could do.
A knock sounded on his office door. “Come in,” he said.
Milton Elliott, Samuel Abercrombie’s attorney, entered. “Got a minute, McDougall?”
Mac grimaced internally, though he rose to shake the man’s hand. It couldn’t be good news that Samuel’s attorney had come to call. He waved Elliott to a seat across from him.
Elliott settled himself in the chair. “As you might suspect from my presence here, Mr. Abercrombie is not happy.”
“I met with both Samuel and Zeke Pershing last week,” Mac said. “You’d given me leave to negotiate directly with Abercrombie, and I thought we worked out an arrangement to both parties’ satisfaction.”
The attorney cleared his throat. “My client has had second thoughts.”
Mac swore. “And why is that?”
Elliott sounded apologetic as he explained. “The creek between their properties—”
“You mean, the creek that migrated onto Zeke Pershing’s land,” Mac said, wanting to keep the record straight. “We diverted a portion of the water onto your client’s field.”
“Yes, yes, that creek.” Elliott coughed. “It seems the creek is drying up.”
“Creeks tend to do that in mid-summer,” Mac said.
“My client doesn’t think he will get enough water for his fields under the arrangement you proposed.”
“The arrangement I proposed?” Mac exploded. “Your client proposed it. Your client agreed to it. You mean to tell me he now intends to renege?”
“Well—” Elliott cleared his throat again.
“Zeke Pershing has been more than fair in offering to divert water from the creek back onto Mr. Abercrombie’s land. Given Mr. Abercrombie’s age, Mr. Pershing and his brothers provided the labor to dig the ditch and the pond to hold the runoff. I don’t know what more Zeke can do.” Mac grew more incensed at Samuel’s obstinance.
“He told me to pursue the case against Mr. Pershing.” At least Elliott had the grace to look sheepish. “I will ask the judge to reverse his stay.”
“We’ll see about that.” Mac stood. “I will make one more attempt to bring Samuel Abercrombie to reason, based on my longstanding acquaintance with him. If I am not successful, then Mr. Pershing will counterclaim against Mr. Abercrombie for trespass. Abercrombie has been seen many times taking water from the creek, even though it now runs through Zeke Pershing’s land. That’s why Zeke dug the ditch and pond. But this is the last civil recourse I shall offer before pursuing Mr. Pershing’s legal rights.”
Elliott nodded. “I understand.”
The next morning, Mac rode out to Zeke Pershing’s claim and found his friend mending harnesses in the barn. “Thought you’d be out taking more land from Abercrombie,” Mac said, with a grin.
Zeke snorted. “That old coot wouldn’t do as he ought on the ditch, despite our agreement. His attorney—that Mr. Elliott—was here overseeing the digging, and still old Samuel didn’t follow through.”
“Did Samuel say whether he would pursue the lawsuit?”
Zeke shook his head. “Elliott didn’t seem to want no part of it. Told Samuel so in front of me. But Abercrombie’s likely to look for another lawyer.”
“Elliott’s changed his spots, it seems. He came to see me yesterday. Says Abercrombie has authorized him to move ahead with the case.”
“Damn.” Zeke swore a long string of stronger oaths.
“I agree,” Mac said. “I’ll go see Samuel. Maybe I can calm him down.”
“Last time I talked to him, Abercrombie said a man named Johnson was asking questions in these parts.”
A cold sweat touched Mac’s neck, despite the warm day. “What kind of questions?”
“About Jenny. And Will. Your family’s past.”
Zeke knew Jenny’s full history, so Mac spoke openly. “Did Johnson tell Abercrombie I’m not Will’s father?”
