“It’s Wednesday now.”

“Then you’ll just have to get your butt in gear, won’t you?”

Jarrod sighed. “I’ll be in touch.”

Grady impatiently jammed the phone back in its cradle, only to realize that his grandfather was standing in the doorway, regarding him with curiosity. He crossed the room in three quick strides to embrace the man who meant more to him than anyone.

Even at seventy-five his grandfather was an impressive man. His thick black hair fell past his shoulders in braids that were streaked with gray. His tanned face was carved with deep lines, his black eyes intense, his bearing proud.

Thomas Blackhawk took a step back, his hands on Grady’s shoulders, and studied his face. “You look troubled.”

“Exasperated,” Grady said.

“Perhaps you should spend some time with me up in the mountains,” Thomas suggested. “It might give you some peace and some perspective.”

“I imagine it would,” Grady agreed. “But right now I don’t have the time.”

His grandfather’s weathered face creased with a half smile. “All the more reason to come, don’t you think?”

“I’ll think about it,” Grady promised. He gestured to a chair. “Can I get you something? Coffee? A drink? I have some of that disgusting orange soda you love so much.”

“That would be good. And a man who lives on caffeine has no room to criticize my choice of beverage.”

Grady brought his grandfather the bottle of soda. “What brings you all the way down here? Usually if I want to see you this time of year, I have to come to you.”

“I have heard some troubling things.”

Grady’s gaze narrowed. “About?”

“You.”

Uh-oh, Grady thought. The meddling Hansons were innocent babes in the wood compared to his grandfather. “Oh?” he said, keeping his expression neutral.

“You have been spending time with the Hanson widow, true?”

“Yes.”

“Why? You are not pressuring her to sell you the land, are you?”

“We’ve discussed it,” he said, choosing his words carefully. They had been over this ground before. But Grady believed that despite his grandfather’s denials in recent years, he wanted that land returned to the Blackhawk family. He’d just tired of the futile battle.

His grandfather regarded him with resignation. “Why can’t I make you see that this is unnecessary? For years I told your father to let it be, but he refused to listen. You are the same. That land means nothing to me.”

“It is Blackhawk land,” Grady said fiercely.

“It was Blackhawk land.”

“It was stolen from our ancestors.”

“At a troubling time in our history,” his grandfather agreed. He peered at Grady intently. “Tell me something. Do you need this land for your ranch?”

“No, of course not. It’s not even near here.”

“Nor do I,” his grandfather said. “So why are you stirring things up, if it is no longer of any importance to us?”

“It’s a matter of principle,” Grady said.

“Is this principle more important than the woman?”

So, Grady thought with a sigh, his grandfather had heard that there was more between Grady and Karen than a battle over acres of ranch land.

“One thing has nothing to do with the other,” Grady replied, mouthing the lie that was becoming second nature to him.

“Explain that to me,” his grandfather said. “It seems to me the two are inevitably intertwined.”

“I can keep them separate,” Grady insisted.

“Can she?” Thomas Blackhawk rose stiffly to his feet. “Think long and hard before you choose unwisely and trade one thing for another. It would not be the first time one of our people made that mistake.”

“Meaning?”

“That things are not always what they seem at first glance. And there are many ways to bring things full circle.”

Grady regarded him with impatience. “And I suppose that your enigmatic response is all you intend to say?”

“For now,” his grandfather agreed, his eyes twinkling.

“Riddles,” Grady muttered. “I ask for advice, and all I get are riddles.”

“You are the brightest of my grandsons. Use your intelligence to figure them out.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Then listen to your heart.”

His grandfather’s words lingered long after he had gone. Grady was up all night thinking, but he couldn’t seem to convince himself to stray from his original course of action. For too many years he had lived with the need to see that land restored to the Blackhawks. The memory of his ancestors deserved that, even if those living no longer thought it mattered.

It was only after hours of tossing and turning that he understood the second part of what his grandfather had been trying to tell him. In effect, his grandfather had given his blessing to a relationship between Grady and Karen. But what was that nonsense about bringing things full circle?

Another riddle, he concluded with a sigh. His grandfather was a master of them. Unfortunately, Grady seldom had the patience to unravel them, not with the very real mystery of the sabotage to the Hanson herd standing between him and his goal.

Grady walked into the First National Bank of Winding River promptly at nine o’clock and headed straight for the president’s office. Ignoring the secretary’s indignant protests, he strolled into Nathaniel Grogan’s office.

“Shall I call security, sir?” Miss Ames asked, casting a look of alarm in Grady’s direction.

Grogan waved her off. “I can handle the gentleman.”

“Could be you’re being overly optimistic,” Grady observed when the door had closed behind the indignant secretary.

“What’s on your mind, Grady?”

Grady nodded at the acknowledgment of his identity. He’d known Nate for years, so it seemed highly unlikely that the man would have mistaken an impostor for him, which meant that face-to-face meeting he’d claimed had been a blatant lie.

“I’m sure you can figure that out,” Grady told him.

“The mortgage on the Hanson land.”

Grady gave him an exaggerated look of approval. “Bingo.”

“What about it?”

“Apparently you told Caleb Hanson that I tried to buy up that mortgage. You told the same thing to Jarrod Wilcox. Yes or no?”

“I told them that, yes.”

“Even though you know it’s a blatant lie.”

“I don’t know that.” Grogan reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a file. “Here’s the paperwork, all filled out nice and proper. That’s your signature at the bottom.”

Grady’s gaze narrowed as he studied the paper. “It’s a damn fine forgery,” he said at last.

“Are you telling me that’s not your handwriting?” the man asked, clearly taken aback.

“That’s what I’m telling you. I never filled out that paperwork. And whoever witnessed it and said I did is lying.”

The old man seemed shaken by his vehemence. “Let me get Miss Ames in here. That’s her notary seal on this.”

He buzzed for his secretary. “In here now, Miss Ames.”

The door opened at once, but the woman was slow to enter. “Yes, Mr. Grogan?”

“I want you to take a look at something.”

She edged around Grady, then took the papers her boss held out.

“Is that your stamp on there?” Grogan asked.

She looked it over carefully, then nodded.

“And is this the man you saw sign those papers?” he demanded.

Another flicker of alarm flashed in her eyes as she glanced Grady’s way. Her response was inaudible.

“What was that?” Grogan snapped. “Speak up, Miss Ames.”

“I said no, sir. I’ve never met this gentleman.”

“This is Grady Blackhawk,” Nate told her. “Now my next question is, who in hell signed the papers?”

Miss Ames seemed to shrink inside her smart business suit. “I don’t actually know,” she said, then burst into tears.

Both men stared at her incredulously, but Grady was the first to speak. “Aren’t you supposed to witness something before using your seal?”

Her head bobbed as the tears continued to fall. “Yes, but these were on my desk one morning with a note to put the seal on them and leave the file for Mr. Grogan. That’s what I did. I thought it must be really urgent.” She regarded her new boss with dismay. “I thought it was what you wanted, that it wouldn’t matter if I broke the rules since you were the one telling me to do it.”