The Wild Card [Harvest Moon: Sunshine Islands]

Chapter 1

"Listen here, old man, I'm getting tired of waiting! That land has been sitting abandoned for years now. I don't care if the owner is paying his taxes on time-he obviously doesn't care about it, or he'd do something with it. So let me have it, and I'll put it to good use!" The tall, thin man glared down at the white-haired patriarch sitting behind his desk.

"Like I told you the last time you asked, and the time before that, and every other time, I can't. Listen, Regis, the land ain't mine to sell. You're going to have to deal with the owner yourself if you want to persuade him to let you have the ranch. Even if I was inclined, my hands are tied." The old man picked up a stack of bills of lading and began to examine them, hoping his unwelcome guest would take the hint and leave. Unfortunately, he didn't.

"I tried that already, Alistair, you know that," Regis said, scowling. "The address you gave me turned out to be for some lawyers' office way off on the northeast coast of the mainland. I submitted an offer to them, and they got back to me within the hour with a very firm declination. They refused to give me any contact information for that that 'N. D. Lamb' fellow, too."

"Someone looking for me?" a voice called from the doorway. Both men jumped, startled by the interruption, and turned towards the door.

Standing just outside the office, looking in, was a young woman dressed in baggy overalls and cowboy boots, her long dark hair pulled back into a messy ponytail and covered with a bandana. "Pardon me for just barging in," she said, "but I could have sworn I heard someone say my name."

"Hardly likely, Miss....?" Regis said, drawing himself up to his full height.

"Lamb. Nicolette Lamb. But you can just call me Colette," she replied, stepping forward and holding out a hand.

The old man jumped to his feet and reached to shake her hand. "Ahh, so you're Miss Lamb. Welcome! Welcome to the Sunshine Archipelago! I'm the distributor as well as the provisional mayor here, Alistair Wright. Most folks call me Taro. You're the owner of the ranch here, then? N. D. Lamb? I do apologize, we weren't told to expect you."

"Yes, that's me. I would have sent word, but my coming here was very last-minute-ish, and there simply wasn't time." She gave a what-can-you-do shrug and an apologetic look to both men, then held out her hand to Regis. "And you are?"

He ignored her, turning instead to Taro. "How do you know she's really the owner? What evidence do you have? You can't just let her waltz in and take over that property with no proof of her claim!"

Taro gave him an exasperated look as he exclaimed, "Oh, don't be so bloody-minded, Regis. Why would a total stranger show up wanting to take on a project like that?"

Colette interrupted, saying, "I've got a letter here from my lawyers, as well as my personal identification." She opened her shoulder bag and rummaged around, then handed an envelope and a driver's license to Taro.

He glanced at the license, then opened the envelope and skimmed over the papers. "Well, Regis," he said, with a twinkle of amusement in his faded blue eyes, "everything appears to be in order. Miss, ahh, Colette, that is, appears to be the rightful owner. So now's your chance! You've been champing at the bit for the chance to meet with her, and here she is."

Regis turned and glared distastefully at the young woman waiting expectantly before him. "Yes... that's true, I did. But I'd expected a Mr. Lamb, not some little chit barely out of school. Still...." He looked her over appraisingly, and her eyes grew wary as she watched him. "Well, Miss Lamb, as I finally have the opportunity to speak with you... I would like to buy your property. I'm willing to offer you a fair price for it. After all, it is terribly run down. I'm sure you'd find it rather an albatross, so to speak. Really, I'll be doing you quite a favor, you know, taking it off your hands." He glared at Taro as the older man snorted in disbelief.

Colette smiled. "Well, Mr....?"

"Sinclair. Regis Sinclair," he replied, taking her hand at last as he bowed elegantly over it.

"...Mr. Sinclair. I'm sorry, but the land is not for sale. In fact, I've come to take possession of the ranch. I intend to make my home here in the islands, as of right now."

**************

Regis stalked down the street toward his mansion, ignoring the few people he passed on his way. His interview had not gone at all as he'd planned, and he did so hate when his plans were disarranged. He'd fully expected that... that girl to quickly capitulate and accept his gracious offer, particularly when he described the wretched condition of the property. Hell, she should have been grateful to him! But she just smiled that enigmatic little smile and said that hard work was "good for the soul" or some such nonsense. He wasn't used to being told no, especially by women. He expected the creatures to be more docile, more demure, more... susceptible. At that thought, an idea began to form in his mind, and a slow smile stretched his thins lips.

Turning into his front garden, he hurried on into his mansion, shouting, "Sabrina! Sabrina!"

"Yes, Father? What is it?" a young woman called timorously, hurrying out from the library.

"I want you to take down a letter, my dear child. And use my personal stationary, not the corporate letterhead," he replied, ushering her into his office.

"Certainly, father. To whom shall it be addressed?" she asked as she sat at her little writing desk in a corner of the spacious room and pulled out her notepad and a pen, then sat waiting attentively.

"To your cousin," he said. She looked at him in surprise, and was even more startled by the calculating look on his face as he leaned back in his chair, the same mirthless smile again creeping across his face.