ROSE ON THE LAKE 18+

🌼CHAPTER THREE🌼

Your bluish gray eyes will slay me suddenly
Their beauty shakes me who was once transfixed
Straight through my heart, the wound is quick and deep
Only your warm touch will heal the hurt
To my heart while the wound still bleeds

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"I do assure you, dear Miss Garton, that I will personally see to the continuing of your father's legacy" said Philipe Rosario, her father's foreman.

He reminded her of a crocodile. Both physically and character wise. His all too bright smile, and crooked teeth on display, coupled with his finesse in pretending, was an exact depiction of the dreaded reptile.

He grated on her nerves. But she was good at schooling her emotions into a serene expression. It was all she could do not to hit him squarely on his family jewels.

Clearly, he and the other nut jobs seated around the table expected her to stay home like an Indian squaw while he took on the reigns of her father's business. But he had another thing coming.

Seated at the head of the round table, she was an island, surrounded by men of diverse cultures and nationalities. How very like her father to gather on one farm, men from different parts of the world.

On her right hand, sat Philippe Rosario the spaniard her father had made supervisor. Years ago, Robert Garton happened upon the Spanish and a few others; the Italian Giovanni Capello, the Scott Carl McCay, the Texan Brennan O'Neal, and Eric Larsen the Irishman who preferred to be called the Fisherman.

Apparently spending too much time in water made him think he was aquatic.
Having stumbled upon these families languishing in hunger an poverty, plus the fact that the land was barren of any crops and the previous owners were too eager to sell and evacuate, her father saw the investment for what it was. A future treasure. He quickly made the purchase and turned the lives of the inhabitants around.

Over time he extended the 400 acres to 700 acres and the value of the property can be elaborate a hundred times over what he paid. Her father was nicknamed the Hand of Mitas because whatever investments he made came back tenfold. He'd earned their loyalty and made them rich. How could she compete with that?

She didn't want anymore condolences. She wanted to take her stand and get these men to respect her. Some did, but others saw her as a little insolent insect that needed to be squashed.

McCay whose main area of expertise was wheat cultivation, decided to regale her on how badly their crops, especially wheat, were doing in the market. Apparently major clients for wheat, barley and maize were bailing. No one knew why, but as usual, the Scott had a conspiracy theory.

"I swear it's a conspiracy." He whispered guardedly, as if imparting some state classified information.

"'Tis that damned Garwood, I tell yer. Always had it in fer ol' Rob. Now with Rob gone and you refusinna sell, the bloke's coming af'er yer. Damn smart to go after our clients, ifado say so meself." He said in a deep scottish accent.

Clearly he thought himself clever, if the squaring and puffing of his shoulders was any indication.

According to her father, the Scott was once a soldier, but life had other plans. He'd been kicked out and for reasons no one knew. He refused to talk about his past life and picked up a life of farming. But it seemed his training wasn't lost to him, for he took to his farming activities as serious as a general in time of war.

She liked him. Despite his theatrics, he was the only one among the wolves, her father's workers, whom she could trust. She gave him an impressed smile. He puffed and swelled with pride. Undoubtedly, his braggadocio must be one of the reasons why he was kicked out.