by Diana Palmer
“That’s what Joe Bascomb did,” she said bitterly. “And he was convicted of a murder, when he was innocent.”
“Was he?” King asked, with narrowed yes. “Danny thinks there may be more to that story than you’re aware of. He’s the one who called in private detectives in the first place, to check out your friend Bascomb because you asked him for help, to get the man an attorney. In the process, they learned about the theft of the jeweled egg.”
She felt even more terrible. Surely it couldn’t get any worse. Could it?
She took a long breath. “Okay, you’re right. But can it wait until after the production sale?” she asked gently. “Let’s not spoil it with a lot of legal challenges. Mom’s worked so hard.”
King grimaced. He knew how hard Shelby had worked. She was the heart of the outfit, in many ways. “All right,” he agreed after a minute. “That’s only a few days away. But afterward,” he added with ice in his tones, “we’re going to set things straight in Wyoming.”
She nodded. She wasn’t looking forward to it. Mallory Kirk was in for a huge surprise, and not one he was going to enjoy. Her father would have him for breakfast. She studied her parent while he talked to Daryl. Under other circumstances, he might have liked Mallory. They were very similar in many ways. And hadn’t her father been suspicious of Shelby and thought her an opportunist during their stormy relationship? He really didn’t have much room to talk. Not that she was going to say that out loud.
UNCLE DANNY AND HIS VIVACIOUS wife, Edie, came with their sons, and their housekeeper/cook, Safie, to stay during the production sale. Morie and Daryl took the kids riding and to movies to keep them occupied while the adults got everything organized for the sale.
The house was huge, and additions had been constructed while the kids were in school so that they had entertainment areas for their friends. There was an immense ballroom, an indoor swimming pool, a tennis court out back, the stables and a barn for King’s prize bulls. It was a lavish estate. Six Jaguars, two sedans, two convertibles and two antique sports cars graced the garage. Cort and Morie owned the convertibles, although it had taken a long time to convince King that they were as safe as most other cars.
THE SATURDAY MORNING that kicked off the production sale came with a suddenness that Morie hadn’t anticipated. The small airport just south of the ranch was kept busy as corporate jets landed, refueled and took off again after depositing their passengers.
Morie was fascinated by the guest list. She watched famous people stroll around the premises with starstruck awe.
“Stop that,” Daryl teased, holding her hand. “You’ve seen them before.”
“Yes, on television,” she assured him. “Dad’s never gone whole hog like this for a production sale!”
“He’s making a statement,” Daryl said in an odd tone.
She frowned. “Excuse me?”
He sighed. “Never mind.” He grinned. “Race you to the sale barn!”
“I can’t,” she objected. “I have to help in the kitchen, making canapés. Even with all of us helping, including Aunt Edie and Safie and the caterers, it’s a pinch getting it done in time for the party tonight. While all the visiting cattlemen are drooling over Dad’s seed bulls, the women are grinding their teeth trying to provide enough food. And that doesn’t include the barbecue that’s going on in the tents for lunch,” she added, indicating the row of tents and the smokers that were going full tilt to provide barbecue. “At least the cowboys are handling that for us! Thank goodness we got old Rafe to come out of retirement long enough to make those famous Dutch-oven biscuits he’s famous for. Not to mention his beef barbecue.”
“It will be worth it if your dad sells enough bulls,” Daryl observed.
She thought of something. “Daryl, you have oil holdings. Do you do fracking?”
He glared at her. “No. We do offshore drilling, and we have a few rigs set up in Oklahoma, but we’re very careful where we drill and we have safeguards in place. We have a wonderful record for safety.”
“I didn’t mean to offend,” she said quickly. “But I wondered if you knew any companies that do fracking up in Wyoming.”
“I know one that’s trying to,” he said. “A man named Cardman owns it. He’s been sued in two states for lax safety procedures—if it isn’t done properly, it contaminates the local water table. See, you inject water, and chemicals, at high pressure into the ground to fracture the shale rock and release oil and gas. It’s not popular at the moment. There was even a documentary made about the dangers. That’s one reason we don’t invest in it.”
“Cardman,” she mused.
“He’s a shady character,” he affirmed. “He’s known for buying up scrubland from unsuspecting landowners and then putting up operations on it. Several people have sued him. He just moves to another state and keeps going.”
“Shame.”
“Really.”
SHE MENTIONED IT to her mother when they were loading the last silver tray with hors d’oeuvres that evening, just before the guests congregated in the ballroom.
“Fracking,” her mother mused. “What a nasty sort of operation it sounds.”
“I know we need oil. Nobody wants to live in grass huts and walk fifty miles to a city,” Morie stated. “But there are safe ways to extract oil, and then there’s this high-speed injection fracturing. That woman I told you about kept trying to get Mallory to sell her friend some scrubland on his property. She didn’t say why, but now I’m curious.”
“You should mention it to your uncle Danny. He knows the Kirks.”
“I might do that.”
Shelby touched her daughter’s cheek. The scratch had healed, and the skin was soft and velvety and blemishless, just like her own. “Sweetheart, are you really going to marry Daryl?”
“Dad wants me to.”
“What do you want to do, Morena?”
Her dark eyes were sad. “I want to marry for love,” she replied. “But when it isn’t returned, maybe it’s best to settle for someone honest and kind that you really like. Daryl is a wonderful person.”
“He truly is. But if you don’t love him, and he doesn’t love you, the two of you are cheating each other.” Her face was solemn. “I married for love. I’ve never regretted it. Not once.”
“You were lucky,” Morie said with a smile.
“Eventually.” Shelby chuckled. “Oh, if you’d known your father as he used to be!” She rolled her eyes. “It was like domesticating a wolf!”
“It was?” Morie laughed.
“Worse! A grizzly bear.” She pursed her perfect lips. “Your Mallory Kirk sounds just like your father. They’d butt heads at first, but then they’d be friends.”
“Chance would be a fine thing.” Morie sighed.
“I don’t know. Life is funny,” Shelby replied. “You never know what surprises are in store for you.”
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Morie had reason to remember that odd statement. Mallory Kirk walked in the door with Gelly Bruner.
Morie, standing beside Daryl, watched them come in with cold eyes. Her heart was cutting circles in her chest, but she was trying to act normally. In her exquisite white couture gown, with its thin strip of gold trim, and her long hair in an elegant upswept hairdo, dripping diamonds, she was the epitome of the wealthy debutante. Gelly was dressed in last year’s fashion, again, a black dress that was passable but nothing to stir comment. Mallory, in evening dress, was impressive even if he didn’t have movie-star looks. His tall, fit body was made for evening clothes. He looked elegant, if somber.
Morie saw her father moving toward Mallory with a sinking feeling in her stomach.
“You must be Kingston Brannt,” Mallory said, extending a hand. “I’m Mallory Kirk. My brothers and I have a ranch in Wyoming. I came to get one of those seed bulls I’ve read so much about in cattle journals.”
King didn’t extend his own hand. He looked at the other man with black eyes that could have cut diamond. “I know who you are
.”
Mallory seemed puzzled. “This is my friend, Gelly Bruner.”
“Mr. Brannt, I’ve heard so much about you,” she purred.
King didn’t even look at her.
“I’ve never seen so many famous people,” Gelly was gushing. “You must know all the rich people on earth!”
“They’re friends, Miss Bruner,” King said curtly. “I don’t choose them for their bank balances.”
“Of course not,” she said quickly.
“Hello, there,” Danny Brant said to Mallory, and he did shake hands. “How are your brothers?”
“Working, as usual. Good to see you again.”
“Same here.” He glanced at his brother, who was still seething. “We’re always happy to have fellow cattlemen visit.”
“I can’t get over the decorations,” Gelly enthused. “I’d love to know where you found so many antique roses!”
“Oh, that would be my niece. She’s crazy about them,” Danny said easily. “Her fiancé had a set of rings made for her with the design. There she is! Come over here, honey.”
He was setting the cat among the pigeons and grinning. King was irritated that his brother had stolen his thunder, because he’d had something else in mind for the introduction.
Morie clung to Daryl’s big hand as she joined them.
“This is my niece, Morena,” Danny introduced. “And her fiancé, Daryl Coleman. He’s CEO of an oil corporation.”
Morena lifted her head proudly. She was aware of Gelly’s suddenly white face, and Mallory’s utter stillness as he registered who she was.
“Yes, my daughter worked for you for several weeks, I believe,” King said in a voice that promised retribution. “And was allowed to quit rather than be prosecuted for theft. It might interest you to know that I’ve retained a private detective to investigate those charges. And I assure you,” he growled, “countercharges will be forthcoming. Nobody accuses my daughter of being a damned thief!”
Mallory gaped at her. This elegant young woman, dressed in couture, living in luxury, engaged to be married, was the same ragged little cowgirl who’d turned his life upside down and left under a cloud of suspicion.
“Well…well, what a surprise,” Gelly managed with a nervous laugh.
“Isn’t it?” Morie asked. “By the way, Ms. Bruner, that friend of yours who wanted to buy the scrubland on the ranch, his name wouldn’t be Cardman, by any chance, would it? Because Daryl has had some very interesting things to say about his past, and the lawsuits he’s facing in several states for unsafe drilling practices.”
“It was Cardman,” Mallory replied, and stared at Gelly blankly. He’d had one too many surprises for one night.
“You should sell him the land,” Morie advised with a pleasant smile. “Then when you want to see fireworks, all you’ll have to do is set a match to your water.”
He glared at her. “You lied,” he said in a rasping tone.
“Well, thieves do lie, don’t they?” she shot back.
He looked uncomfortable.
“My daughter is no thief,” King told Mallory with glittering eyes. “She has no need to steal. I understand a priceless jeweled egg is missing from your ranch. Since my daughter seems to be involved in the case, I’ve hired Dane Lassiter out of Houston to investigate the theft for me.”
“Cane hired him to investigate it for us,” Mallory said stiffly. “And I don’t think Morie took it,” he added without meeting her eyes. “It was stolen after she left the ranch.”
“How kind of you to move me off the suspect list,” she said. “A few weeks late, of course.” She was looking at Gelly, who was pale and unsteady on her feet. “Perhaps in the future, you’ll be more careful about whom you set up for a burglary charge, Ms. Bruner. This one seems to have backfired on you.”
“I didn’t set anybody up,” Gelly muttered. She pressed close to Mallory. “Could we leave? I won’t be harassed like this!”
“You didn’t mind harassing me, as I recall,” Morie replied. “Or that poor cowboy who was fired for a missing drill that conveniently turned up in his suitcase.”
“We need to go!” Gelly said. She was sounding hysterical.
“If you have any part in the charges against my daughter, Miss Bruner,” King continued, staring straight at Gelly, “I will have my attorneys nail you to a wall. That’s a promise. If you have one skeleton in your closet, I promise you’ll see it on the evening news!”
Gelly let go of Mallory’s arm and literally ran for the front door.
“As for you,” King told Mallory Kirk, “in the history of this ranch, I have never had anyone escorted off the property. But if you and your ‘friend’ aren’t gone within the hour, I swear to God I’ll have the local sheriff escort you personally to the airport!”
Mallory sighed heavily. He looked at Morie, so beautiful in her gown, with her face taut and her eyes hard. She clung to that damned handsome kid, her fiancé, and looked as if it would make her happy never to see Mallory Kirk again as long as she lived. And he was dying for her. He’d missed her, wanted her, blamed himself for her condition. He’d imagined her ragged and poor, in a shelter somewhere because she couldn’t find another job. And here she turned up in a mansion, surrounded by wealth, pampered by her father, the richest cattleman in Texas!
He’d been taken in by Gelly, lock, stock and barrel. Morie hated him. Her father hated him. He’d never live this down. He’d been stupid and judgmental, and he was getting just what he deserved. Morie had wanted to love him. He’d slapped her down. Now she was engaged to some other man, set to marry and start a family. Mallory would go back to Wyoming alone to reflect on his idiocy and face the future all by himself.
He stuck his big hands in his slacks pockets. “Well, if I had hemlock, I guess I’d drink it about now,” he mused.
Danny muffled a laugh. Nobody else was amused. King looked murderous. Morie was impassive, on the surface at least.
In the middle of the confrontation, Shelby arrived. She lifted her eyebrows at the tableau. “My goodness, are we hosting a murder?” she mused.
Mallory looked at her with sudden recognition. “I know your face,” he said gently.
She smiled. “I was a professional model when I married King,” she said, sliding her hand through King’s arm.
“Your mother was Maria Kane, the actress,” Mallory continued. She nodded.
“I’ve been watching her old movies on late-night television,” he commented. He glanced at Morie. “Now I know why you looked so familiar to us.”
“She favors my mother,” Shelby replied. “Mr…?”
“Kirk. Mallory Kirk.”
The smile immediately left Shelby’s elfin face. Her dark eyes began to glitter.
Mallory sighed. “No need for further introductions.” He nodded and glanced down at Morie. “For the record, nobody thought you took the damned egg. You had no opportunity. As for the charge I made, I apologize. I’ve been blind, deaf, dumb and stupid, as my brothers have reminded me every hour on the hour since you left. I guess it took a kick in the head to convince me.” He shrugged. “I don’t need a road map to see which direction I need to look for a thief.” His face set in hard lines. “I’m genuinely sorry,” he told the Brannts. “She was one of the hardest-working hires I’ve ever had. Never complained. Never fussed. Never asked for concessions or special treatment and took risks that I’d never have let her take if I’d known about them.”
Morie didn’t speak. She was too sick at heart. It was too late. Much too late.
“What risks?” King asked coldly.
“For one, a confrontation with an escaped convicted killer who’s a friend of my brother Tank,” he replied.
“He isn’t guilty,” Morie said defensively. “I’m sure of it.”
“And I’m sure that he is,” Mallory replied. “Tank’s fond of him and he won’t listen to reason.” He glanced wryly at King, who was still smoldering. “Family character trait, I’m afraid. But the f
act is, Joe Bascomb has an atrocious temper and he once beat a mule almost to death. Any man who’ll treat livestock like that will treat a man like that.”
“Nobody treats animals that way here,” King said.
“Or on my place,” Mallory agreed.
“You should let him stay,” Danny told King.
King smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “He won’t like it here.”
Mallory glanced at Morie’s stiff little face and he felt a cold, hollow place inside him. “You might have just told me who you were in the first place.”
“I wanted to learn ranch work and he—” she nodded toward her father “—wouldn’t let me near it.”
“You were raised to be a lady,” King said curtly. “Not a cowhand.”
“You had no business lifting heavy limbs off fences!” Mallory agreed hotly.
“Don’t yell at my daughter,” King said angrily.
“Your daughter was an idiot,” Mallory shot back. “She could have ruined her health. I thought she was what she claimed to be, a poor girl down on her luck who needed a job desperately!”
“I did need a job,” Morie said defensively. “I got sick and tired of men wanting me for what my father had instead of what I was!”
Mallory glared at Daryl.
Daryl grinned at him. “Wrong number,” he said defensively. “My folks are on the Fortune 500 list, and I have my own very successful businesses. I don’t need to marry money.”
“He had the same problem,” Morie replied. “That’s why we’re marrying each other.”
“Not true,” Daryl replied.
She gaped at him. “Not true?”
“She’s marrying me because I can do the tango,” Daryl said easily, and smiled down at her.
She shifted restlessly. “Well, yes. Most men can’t dance.” She looked pointedly at her father.
“Your mother didn’t marry me for my dancing skills,” King pointed out.
“Good thing,” Shelby agreed, and she seemed to unbend just a little. She looked past Mallory. “I believe your friend is motioning to you.”
