He pushed away from the table. "I should be gettin' back to work," he said.
"Whatever it is, it'll keep!" Robbie decreed.
Will was starting to lose patience. "Granddad, we're just goin' around in circles and it's gettin' us nowhere. I have things to do."
"Nothin's more important than this!"
"But you aren't goin' to change your mind."
"Don't tell me what I will or won't do!" Robbie snapped.
Will was about to answer just as sharply when his mother leaned forward.
"You mean…you might be willing to change it?" she asked, looking intently at his grandfather.
Robbie shifted in his chair, his arthritic hands clasped on the tabletop. "I never said that."
"But you're starting to see some sense in what I've been sayin'," his mother pressed.
Robbie shrugged, bushy eyebrows twitching.
At this unexpected drift toward concession, Will's mother sent him a silent plea for support.
Will heaved a sigh and scooted his chair back into place. This time he'd speak his mind.
"Purely as a business proposition we'd be crazy not to grab this money with both hands. But—" he added quickly as his grandfather started to swell up again "—that strip of land's a major part of our heritage. What Mom's sayin', though, is that the rest of the ranch is also a major heritage. Actually, even more of one. We haven't been usin' that land out by the highway for much, Granddad. And that house Ida and Nelson Taylor built back when they first got here…it burned down in the 1890s. By then, they'd already abandoned it themselves. Moved closer to where we are now. Then your daddy tore that house down after he inherited and used most of the wood and such to build on this spot. You and Uncle Ray were born here, then you made improvements, my daddy made more, and I've made a few. Until we sit as we are today. That's an awful lot of heritage."
"It's the principle 'a the thing," Robbie defended gruffly. "How'd those earlier Taylors feel about me bein' the one to sell it?"
"Nelson and Ida sold a section on the north side when they needed to back in the twenties," Will replied. "They'd probably tell you you'd be a fool not to do it."
"You're sure 'a that?" his grandfather demanded. "That section they let go of...it didn't have the Old Home Place on it. It was out in the far reaches."
"I'm not sure of it, no. I'm just guessin'. But you are, too. Do what you think's right, Granddad. We'll keep on working. I'm willin', Mom's willin'. But we're gonna need some luck coming our way before the end of the year, and that's something we've been missin' a lot of around here lately."
Sylvia added softly, "We have to face facts, Dad. I don't want Will workin' himself to an early grave like my Johnny did. And I know you don't want that for him either." She stilled Will's protest with a brief lift of her hand.
"'A course not!" Robbie snapped. "But you've been sayin' all along that we'll be fine."
A short silence followed. Then his mother asked, "What if we could get the price up? That man...the one Cassie works for…he's sent her a long way to show us this." She tapped the contract. "We could at least try and see what happens."
Robbie frowned. "I still don't like it."
"Would you at least think about it?" Sylvia asked.
Robbie glanced at Will.
"I don't mind hard work, Granddad. You know that. Don't let me be a part of the issue."
Robbie pushed himself out of his chair. "Awright, I'll think on it," he agreed. Then he went slowly outside and plopped himself down in one of the chairs under the shade tree, where he always claimed he went for his 'thinks'. Usually, he took naps there, but today Will doubted that he would sleep.
Will, too, got up, but his mother caught hold of his arm before he could leave. "I meant what I said, Will," she said seriously. "I don't want you followin' in your daddy's footsteps by dying too young."
"I can handle it, Mom," Will stated firmly.
"I know. But I can't."
And Will knew that to his mother's mind she'd never said a truer thing.
CHAPTER THREE
CASSIE LOOKED UP from her study of the vegetable garden to see Will Taylor striding across the open yard from the house to the outbuildings, his long legs covering ground at a rapid pace. He didn't stop until he was inside the corral, where he fitted a brown horse with a bridle before leading it over to where a blanket and saddle straddled the top rail. With practiced ease he saddled up, swung into place, and nudged the horse forward. At the gate, he leaned down, opened it, let himself and the horse through, and then carefully closed it after them. He did the same thing a short distance away at another gate, putting into practice what he'd preached to her earlier in the day.
Only when he'd disappeared from view did Cassie realize that she'd been staring at him as if mesmerized. She instantly turned her back, irritated with herself. She'd left the house to enjoy the outdoors—the fresh air, the sunshine. Now she was tense again. She should just ignore him. She'd soon be on her way back to Houston with the signed contracts in her briefcase and Love fading into the distance. She could once again forget that the town existed, and Will Taylor along with it.
As proof that she was back in command of her psyche, Cassie continued to explore the area. She examined the windmill up close. In town they'd either had town water or electric pumps for individual wells. Windmills were used by the surrounding ranches and farms, and she'd only seen them from a distance. A short time later she found the hen house and a potting shed where Sylvia had some seedlings waiting to be planted. But she stayed away from the more distant outbuildings, some of which were open on three-sides and topped by slanted tin roofs.
She was just starting to think about going back inside when she spotted Robbie Taylor sitting in the back yard under a shade tree. His head low, his chin on his chest; he might have been asleep. The last thing she wanted, though, at this delicate stage was to intrude upon the old man and give him the impression that she was applying any pressure. She wanted to give each of the Taylors a wide berth until they made their final decision. Other than at meals, of course. She had to show up for those or they'd wonder why she hadn't and possibly take affront. Which was yet another aspect of staying at the ranch she hadn't foreseen. She had to tread carefully. And the best way to accomplish that was to isolate herself in her room. If necessary, for the majority of time she had to spend here.
To put her plan into action, she headed for the front door, but her intent lasted no longer than the time it took to reach the porch. The big gray cat, still curled in the rocking chair, awakened at her approach. Blinking sleepily, the animal stretched, then gave every indication of wanting to be petted.
Cassie loved cats. The two she'd had as a youngster had both been on the wild side. She still had a couple of scars on her arms as evidence. But she'd always longed for one that would enjoy being petted.
"I hope you mean this," she murmured as she sank into the accompanying rocker and tentatively touched the feline's head.
The cat stood up, stretched again, then flowed smoothly from one rocking chair to the next, ending up in her lap.
Cassie smiled and stroked the plush coat from neck to tail.
"The Duchess likes to have her ears rubbed," Sylvia Taylor said from behind the screen door, making Cassie start. She hadn't known the woman was anywhere near.
"Is that her name?" Cassie asked, searching for a response.
Sylvia stepped out onto the porch. "We call her the Duchess because she thinks she is one." She tilted her head, considering the pair. "She doesn't usually take to folks so fast."
As Cassie rubbed her ears, the animal began to purr. It had been a long time since she'd had any connection with a pet. In Houston, she stuck to houseplants.
Sylvia crossed to the porch railing, made a leisurely survey of the road out front, then, turning slightly, asked, "What have you been doin' with yourself all these years, Cassie?"
Cassie kept her reply brief. "Working."
"For the same man you
work for now?"
"Most of it."
"You look like you're doing just fine."
"I am."
An uncomfortable moment of silence passed. Cassie braced herself for more questions.
But rather than continuing to pry, Sylvia abandoned her place at the railing to reopen the screen door. "Have to see to supper," she explained. Then added, "Don't worry about hurtin' the Duchess' feelings whenever you want to stop. She's what a friend of mine calls a love sponge. If she decides she likes you, you have to be the one to call a halt."
"I will," Cassie murmured.
Alone again, she sighed. Yet another reason to stay mostly in her room: she was prepared to answer a few general questions about her present life in Houston, but she was determined not to go into any depth. And unlike the Duchess, Sylvia's miffed feelings upon being rebuffed would definitely complicate things.
Cassie gave the cat another ear rub, placed her back in the companion rocker, then went inside to the refuge of her room.
~~~~
AT SIX O'CLOCK Cassie presented herself in the kitchen, drawn by voices along with wonderful aromas of cooking foods. Each of the ranch Taylors was there, but none was seated. Sylvia was busy dishing up, while Will, his hair damp and freshly combed, leaned against the counter. Robbie stood off to one side staring out the window.
Cassie smiled briefly at no one in particular before taking her seat.
"Right on time." Sylvia approved.
The two men exchanged a look before they, too, took their places. By the time Sylvia joined them, the table was filled with fried chicken, green beans, mashed potatoes, and homemade biscuits
As good at it looked and smelled, though, Cassie wasn't the least bit hungry, and neither, did it seem, were the others. Yet everyone went through the motions. Will, having done the hardest physical labor, ate the most. Sylvia ate the least. Even less than Cassie, who emptied most of her plate because she felt she needed to. They went through the motions of conversation, as well—keeping the topics far away from the one that dominated everyone's minds.
After refusing cake and coffee for dessert, Cassie said, "The meal was delicious, Sylvia. Thank you." Then, again, excused herself to her room.
During the latter part of the afternoon she'd made some inroads into the book she'd opened earlier. She returned to it immediately after dinner. It wasn't long, though, before someone knocked on her door.
Will stood stone-faced in the hall. "We'd like you to come down now, please," he said. His pale eyes gave nothing away.
Cassie accompanied him back to the kitchen, where the table had been cleared of all but cups. The cake sat untouched on the counter.
Sylvia offered a tight smile. Robbie turned his head away, refusing to look at her.
Once Cassie had slipped into her chair, Sylvia came directly to the point. "Dad says he'll sign, but on one condition."
"Two!" Robbie interjected, seemingly having decided to take an active part. "I wanna know what that boss 'a yours plans to do with it!"
Cassie experienced a burst of victory, but kept her expression schooled. "And the other condition?" she asked.
"It's not enough money," Sylvia said. "Not for somethin' that's so important to us."
Cassie answered Robbie first. "Mr. Michaels buys land as an investment for the future. He's been buying and selling land for years all over Texas. He considers your strip of land as just such an investment." Her gaze moved to Sylvia. "How much more did you have in mind?"
Sylvia countered, "How much more are you willin' to offer?
Cassie pretended to reluctantly consider the matter, but in the end she moved up one pre-approved level.
The amount made Sylvia clear her throat and glance at the two men. "Would you mind if we took a little more time to talk?" she asked.
"Of course not," Cassie agreed. Don't press your advantage too soon, Jimmy had taught her. Let people have enough time to get past the finish line."
In her room Cassie again picked up where she'd left off in her book. She hadn't expected to read more than a few pages, but as time wore on, she read many more than that. Just as she was giving yet another disquieted check to her watch, there finally came another knock on her door.
Cassie had steeled herself to find Will in the hall again, but this time it was Sylvia. Traces of moisture glistened in the woman's eyes and her cheeks bore two spots of color.
"We're ready now," Sylvia said simply. And as they started downstairs, she added inexplicably, "Dad's made a call."
Cassie frowned, but gave no comment.
The two men were at the table, their expressions grim but resolute.
Cassie seated herself and waited for one of them to speak.
Robbie twitched several times before saying gruffly, "Okay, I'll sign." The words seemed forced from him. "I've called Ray. Told him he has'ta get hisself out here, so he's on his way. Might as well get this over and done with."
Now Cassie understood what Sylvia had meant on the stairs, and it was exactly what she didn't want. As Jimmy's agent, she'd wanted to arrange her first meeting with Ray Taylor herself. On her schedule. When she was ready. Jimmy had told her, and she'd found through experience, that it was more productive to negotiate with one party at a time when dealing with multiple owners. And preferably out of each other's hearing. But what could she do? She was being presented with a fact.
She swallowed her consternation. "All right."
"He'll sign, too," Robbie continued bitterly. "Lickety-split like, 'cause he's never cared about the Old Home Place."
"Dad!" Sylvia seemed shocked that he'd say such a thing in front of an outsider.
"Just tellin' the truth," Robbie retorted. "I had'ta practically beg him to keep that bit of land in both our names when he sold me his share in the ranch just days after our daddy died. Couldn't get away from here fast enough."
"Granddad." Will spoke wearily, cupping a hand over the back of his neck to rub the muscles there. It was as if he'd heard that complaint a thousand times before.
"Well, he did." Robbie remained unrepentant. He rattled his empty coffee cup on the table. "How about another shot 'a this stuff, Sylvie? I think I'm gonna be needin' it."
Without asking, Sylvia collected a cup for Cassie as well before filling all four cups with steaming brew. "I'd better make some more," she said.
While the woman busied herself with the automatic coffee maker, Cassie made some quick mental alternations to her plan for presenting the offer to Ray Taylor. But who knew? This could possibly work out for the best. If both brothers signed their contracts tonight, she could be back in Houston by midday tomorrow, impressing Jimmy with the swiftness of her success.
Then she became aware of the others in the room. Of the way Will sat staring bleakly out the window over his grandfather's shoulder, his expression grim. Of the old man hunched in his chair. Of Sylvia— Did the men even know that she'd cried? Or had she given in to emotion only when she was out of their sight? The land they'd agreed to sell was a part of their heritage and it was hitting them hard.
That awareness made Cassie uncomfortable. Early on, Jimmy had taught her never to get close to the people she was negotiating with. Keep a distance between you and them, he had said. You're not involved in their lives. You're just working a deal they want or they wouldn't be talking to you. In the three years she'd been negotiating for him, she had never before been this uncomfortable with what she was doing. Was it because she'd grown up in Love and knew these people, if only nominally, from that time?
She rejected her feelings of discomfort. Her goal remained the same—to secure this sale and bring it back to Houston. And the sooner she could do it, the better. She could even leave tonight, right after Ray Taylor did. Which meant she wouldn't need to see her mother. She wouldn't be in town long enough.
"Your coffee's gettin' cold," Sylvia murmured, settling back into the chair across from her.
Robbie snorted and stalked outside. Will quickly followed him.
Sylvia glanced at their retreating backs. "Don't worry," she said. "When Dad gives his word he never goes back on it."
"I'm not worried," Cassie replied.
Sylvia shook her head sadly as she spooned sugar into her cup. "Doin' this is hard for those two. But sometimes a person has to do hard things." Her eyes lifted. "I guess you coming back here was a hard thing, too. I've often wondered what happened to you, Cassie. I'm glad to see you're doin' so well."
Cassie's nerves were beginning to wear thin, and Sylvia's probe, as gentle as it was, caused a flicker of panic to race through her. She longed to be on her own again. But a decision had been made, an acceptance given. She had to stay where she was. Which meant she had to find a way of answering Sylvia's questions without giving insult. She checked her watch. The ranch wasn't that far out of town; it shouldn't take Ray Taylor long to get here.
To her relief she heard a car approach, then doors open and close. Footsteps soon sounded on the front porch.
Sylvia hailed, "Come on in," to the newcomers, which also served notice to the two men in the backyard, if they hadn't already heard the arrival on their own.
Will and his grandfather entered the kitchen at the same time as the two men who came down the hall.
Physically, the twins were nothing alike. Where Robbie was rangy and deeply tanned with a thick head of cottony hair, Ray was shorter, with much paler skin, a rounder body and clipped gray hair that fringed a shiny dome. Ray, Jr., in his early fifties, was a younger version of his father, his brown hair only starting to recede. Both men were dressed in suits and ties.
There were no hugs or fond greetings exchanged between the brothers.
"I hope this is important," Ray said irritably, snapping out each word. "Junior and I were busy. We were going over our books."
"Good," Robbie snapped back. "'Cause when you get home, you'll have more money to add in."
Ray scowled. His gaze moved past Sylvia and Will to settle on Cassie. "Who's this?" he demanded.
"The person who's gonna give you the money," Robbie replied.
Cassie was quick to offer her hand. It was past time for her to step in. "C. A. Edwards," she said, giving Ray Taylor's hand a firm shake before doing the same with Ray, Jr. "I represent Michaels Enterprises of Houston, and Mr. Michaels, my employer, has a proposition he feels might be of interest to you."
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