Silken Threads

by Barrie, Monica

  At one time, before the large corporations had invaded the area of ranching, Twin Rivers had been the center of ranching in the Phoenix area. Now, like many of the old-time spreads, it was a corporate venture.

  The large house was not a place to live, except occasionally when the corporate people came and used the two main suites upstairs. The main floor of the house was the ranch’s offices; Kirk’s office had once been the library.

  A hundred yards from the main house was his own house. As the general manager, he was entitled to private quarters. Near his house was another, smaller than his was, but just as nice. Right now, it was housing the only female ranch hand working at Twin Rivers. Set back another thirty yards from his house was the main housing complex, where the unmarried ranch hands bunked.

  Kirk’s eyes wandered along the aerial map, taking in the various ranges. On the far side of the ranch was a five-thousand acre farm, where they grew a good deal of the grain and hay.

  A series of livestock corrals were set a quarter-mile from the main house, along with a complex of barns, stables, and silos.

  Why wasn’t the Leeds Corporation worried about taking a loss two years in a row? he asked himself again. The puzzle was beginning to show signs of becoming an obsession with him. Something wasn’t right, and he wanted to know what that something was.

  Returning to his desk, he sat and faced the computer. A moment later, he was gazing at long rows of figures. Even as he did, he laughed and his face softened.

  Kirk wondered just how a rancher from fifty or a hundred years ago would react to modern ranching, run by corporations, computers and boardroom logic.

  “Not very well,” he told himself aloud. Kirk knew there was one important aspect of ranching big business did not understand, and probably never would: Ranching was a business; but, it was also personal. You could not be a rancher if you felt nothing for the land around you. That’s where the corporations made their mistakes.

  However, Kirk could not imagine himself doing anything but ranching. Especially after what he’d been through before. Shaking away those thoughts, Kirk concentrated on the ranch’s figures, and on the thought continually plaguing his conscience. Kirk knew he would do his best to find out what was going on, no matter how long it took.

  ~~~~

  Cassandra lay restlessly in her bed, listening to the chiming of an old grandfather clock. Her mind churned endlessly, and she could not make herself relax at all.

  She had still not fully recovered from this afternoon’s harsh confrontation with her father and had hoped she would be able to talk to him tonight; but her hope had been dismissed when she’d spoken to her mother, who had been on her way out of the house when she’d come in.

  “Cassie,” Eleanor Leeds had cried happily when she’d seen her daughter.

  Cassie had hugged her mother through the ermine stole and kissed her cheek. Then she’d seen her mother’s brow wrinkle with a frown as she’d studied her.

  “I take it you’ve already talked with your father?”

  “Yes,” Cassandra had said in a sad voice.

  “He loves you very much, dear; he wants you to have a good life,” Eleanor had begun but was interrupted by the chauffeur.

  “It’s five o’clock, Mrs. Leeds.”

  “So it is,” Eleanor had said with a nod. “We’ll talk tomorrow, dear. I have a benefit that will last very late.”

  “Is Father going?” she’d asked.

  “For a little while. He has some people in from Europe. You know how he is.…”

  When her mother had fairly flown out of the house in a whoosh of silk, Cassandra had gone to her bedroom, undressed, and taken a shower. Afterwards, she’d eaten, gone into the library and chosen a book at random. By ten o’clock, she couldn’t keep her eyes open and realized she’d been up almost twenty-four hours. Yet, as soon as she lay down, her mind sped up.

  Realizing what was bothering her was the uncertainty of her future, Cassandra’s low laughter echoed in the silent bedroom. It was the same uncertainty that had been a constant part of her for the past year.

  No more, she told herself, hoping that tomorrow would bring the change she so badly wanted. Tomorrow would be the beginning of her future, and she was ready.

  With that thought, Cassandra finally fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

  ~~~~

  Gregory Leeds sat behind his desk, absently going over the day’s accumulation of memos. It was two o’clock in the morning, and after leaving his European associates at the Pierre, he had returned to his office to solve yet another problem—Cassandra.

  He had spent several hours looking over his companies, trying to decide which one to place her in. He could not afford to have her hurt any important deals, yet he wanted her to see what the business world was like.

  He believed, after a month or two of facing the real world, Cassandra would call him and concede. Then she would marry Somner Barwell, as he had planned for her to do. The marriage would benefit him because it would mean Jonathan Barwell, Somner’s father, and he would become business associates rather than competitors. Presently, the two corporations were in a fearsome battle.

  Gregory knew he, Barwell, and several others of their level were like the old royalty. And when royalty married, it was a merging of power and wealth for their mutual benefit. Although the names and titles had changed over the centuries, the basic concepts were the same.

  Gregory glanced at a memo from Murray Charter about Twin Rivers. Something clicked in his mind, and he picked it up. It was short and simple.

  Twelve-percent loss over last year. North’s figures were tentative but seem to match our own projections. Should we try to give him a raise this year?

  As soon as Gregory read the last line, he remembered what had happened. Kirk North was the GM of the ranch, and had been so when they’d bought the property three years ago. He had shown himself to be a sharp man, with good managing abilities and a quick mind. He was a college graduate and a good worker. When he’d turned down the raise last year, Gregory had been surprised and asked Murray about it.

  “He takes his job seriously. He said he hadn’t made a profit, so he didn’t earn the raise.”

  “Give it to him anyway,” Gregory had ordered. It was not North’s fault the ranch had not shown a profit. The Leeds Corporation had bought the ranch for two reasons: for neither of those reasons were there supposed to be any profits—yet.

  A month after he and Murray had discussed Kirk North, Murray had reported that North had again requested his raise to be withdrawn and had sent a check to the comptroller for the exact amount of the raise.

  “It’s his choice,” Gregory had finally told Murray, but his respect for the GM. had increased, and the memory of the incident never forgotten.

  Then a smile formed on Gregory Leeds’ face. He knew exactly which company to turn over to his daughter...if she would take it in the first place.

  No, he would give her no choice in this, he decided. He hoped by using the ranch, and her worst fears, he would force her to give up immediately. If the ploy didn’t work, the assured guarantee of not showing a profit in the next year would solve the problem.

  However, according to his plan, in two more years the ranch would show a profit. They had calculated everything to the last possible penny. Only three men knew how about the plan for the ranch, and none of them would be telling anyone else, for they had to maintain the utmost secrecy, in order for his plan to succeed.

  Yes, it was Twin Rivers for Cassie.

  ~~~~

  “The Twin Rivers Corporation?” Cassandra echoed, sitting next to her father on his long leather couch. She had been there for half an hour, sipping coffee and waiting for her father to tell her what company he was going to let her take over.

  He had repeatedly asked her if she was sure of her decision, asking her three different times if she wouldn’t rather marry Somner Barwell and continue to enjoy her leisurely life of freedom.

  Each time he
had asked she’d given him an adamant and simple no. Then he told her the name of the company.

  “Where exactly is this company?” she asked as she racked her memory, trying to recall even a single mention of its name. Sadly, she realized her father had never spoken of it.

  “In Arizona, just outside of Phoenix,” Gregory Leeds told her as he studied her face carefully.

  Cassandra laughed lightly and shook her head. She had never been to Phoenix, or to Arizona at all, for that matter, nor had she ever had the desire to. “I didn’t know Leeds International was involved with old-age homes,” she jested. “Or cactus.”

  “We’re not,” he said but did not elaborate.

  “Pray tell, Father, what is Twin Rivers Corporation?”

  “A ranch,” he said simply.

  “A ranch?” Cassandra echoed with a smile. “With cows?”

  “With cattle and barns and corrals and…horses.”

  Cassandra jaw dropped. The blood drained from her face, and she fought desperately for breath.

  Gregory Leeds watched his daughter turn the color of newly fallen snow, and saw, too, the sharp rising and falling of her chest as she fought to digest his words, but he held his own emotions in check; too much was at stake.

  The world swam before her eyes. She felt as though she were falling, arcing through the air and landing on her head and right side. She could hear the snapping of her bones and feel the lancing pain. Then she reached deep inside herself for strength and forced herself to breathe normally. A moment later her vision cleared, and she stared at her father with reproach and unvoiced accusation.

  “Do you want to call it off?” Gregory asked in a gentle voice.

  Yes!!! Was her silent scream. But, from that same place where she had found the strength to fight away her fear, she found the strength to stand up to him. “I’d rather die first.”

  Gregory kept his face emotionless. His heart pounded as it had not done in years. Despite his desire to have her turn down his offer, he was strangely glad she had not done so.

  “All right, Cassandra.” He reached for the thick manila envelope lying on the coffee table. “This is the information you’ll have to study before going to Arizona. You have a week to prepare yourself. Elizabeth will show you to an office you can use.”

  Cassandra realized, from the tone of his voice, their meeting was over. Standing, she stared at him. “Thank you, Father,” she said as she took the envelope. Walking quickly from his office, she prayed he had not seen the way her hand had trembled when she’d taken the packet.

  Outside, with the door closed, she leaned against its hardness. She took several deep breaths before starting toward her father’s secretary. What have I done?

  ~~~~

  The sun’s bright rays bathed the rolling meadow in golden light. The velvet swath of grass, which spread out for a hundred unspoiled acres, was broken in strategic spots by randomly placed hedges of varying heights.

  Cassandra loved the way the warm breeze caressed her face beneath the riding hat and let the way she felt show in the smile, with which she favored the others. Her long hair, tied back in a traditional ponytail, escaped from beneath the hat and reached almost to the saddle.

  Today was a special day for Cassandra. Today she was riding Magik, her father’s Arabian steeplechase mount. He had promised her a year before that if she took first prize in her riding and jumping class, she could ride Magik.

  Cassandra had worked hard to win. Now it was time for her reward.

  “Remember, no jumping,” her father cautioned again as he rode next to her.

  Cassandra nodded, intent on the job of controlling the large Thoroughbred and equally proud of her ability to do so. She and her father posted in unison, and Cassandra felt the excitement build within her, enhanced by the power of the magnificent horse she rode.

  “Can we go faster?” she asked.

  “Carefully,” her father said, increasing their pace to a slow gallop.

  Cassandra held the reins carefully and, for just an instant, she felt Magik try to go faster, but she held him back.

  “Very good,” her father said. “Always remember, it’s you who must maintain control. And that, Cassandra, is true for business also.”

  But Cassandra didn’t hear him. She was giving her full attention to the horse. She had controlled him, and with doing so came a feeling of power. There was very little Cassandra had ever been afraid of, and now, in the instant she had learned she could control the large horse, she feared even less.

  “Faster!” she cried to her father, setting herself in the saddle and moving with the horse. The breeze on her face grew stronger, and the hedges she rode past became a blur.

  “Cassandra!” her father shouted.

  Cassandra turned to smile at him. He was already twenty feet behind her, and she saw a frown of concern on his face. “Slow down!” he ordered, his voice loud and commanding.

  Cassandra didn’t. She knew she could control the horse and wanted to ride forever. Before she could turn forward again, she saw the panic on her father’s face and heard him shout again.

  “The hedges! Cassandra, the hedges!”

  Cassandra turned just as Magik reached the highest hedge jump on the course. Before she could prepare herself, the horse, trained to jump whatever was in front of him, launched himself.

  She screamed even as she tried to set herself properly in the saddle. Because she was unprepared, her movements threw the horse off stride. Magik’s front legs did not fully clear the top of the hedge.

  Everything moved in slow motion. Cassandra screamed. The horse rose in the air: Cassandra felt it hit the hedge. Suddenly the world was spinning upside down. The next thing she saw was the green grass coming up to meet her. Pain exploded in her head, and spread to every part of her body.

  The horse had cleared the jump, but not with enough room to land properly. Its legs crumpled beneath it, and it rolled sideways, catching Cassandra beneath it. Panicked, the horse fought to stand and did. Then it began to run madly, trying to dislodge the limp, almost lifeless form that was caught in one stirrup—the form who was a nine-year-old girl named Cassandra Leeds, who throughout the quarter-mile the horse dragged her, felt and saw everything in a whirlwind of pain and kaleidoscopic madness. When her father caught and stopped the horse and then bent over her, she saw the fear on his face. Only then, when she felt his hand on her cheek, did darkness end the pain.

  “No!” Cassandra screamed, sitting up and wrapping her arms around her shaking body. “Please don’t let it start again,” she cried.

  Standing, Cassandra pulled on a thick terry bathrobe and turned the bed table lamp on. “Please,” she whispered, “don’t let the nightmares start again.”

  Cassandra took a deep breath and walked across the room to look at the miniature grandfather clock.

  Midnight had come and gone and with it, Cassandra knew, had gone her ability to sleep.

  Cassandra took several more deep calming breaths before sitting on the bent wood rocker, the very same chair her mother had nursed her in when she was a baby. Looking around the room, Cassandra tried to capture the old feelings of her childhood. Even here, in the room she had grown up in, those feelings remained hidden.

  She had always known she was one of the more fortunate people. She had never wanted for anything, a fact that should have made her happy. It hadn’t, she realized and tried not to let the tears of sadness and pain break free.

  I never wanted those things everyone bought me. I wanted something I couldn’t have, she told herself, remembering all the lonely times when she’d gone to her father, hoping to see love and warmth in his eyes, not presents filling his hands.

  Her memory was good; it had always been so. She could remember all the way back to her fourth birthday. She remembered the happiness of her childhood, when everything was simple, and she knew, without any doubt, love was what she wanted.

  As she’d grown older, the security of her emotions had fled, an
d she’d learned how to put a shell around her to make people believe she was still the same happy girl, although it was a lie.

  Has my life been a lie? she asked herself, feeling the tears reach the rim of her eyes and wash over onto her cheeks. Who am I?

  Up to the age of nine, Cassandra could have answered that question easily. “I am Cassandra Leeds. My daddy is Gregory Leeds.”

  She remembered a reporter interviewing her father when she was eight. It was at home, and she was sitting in a small chair off to one side. The man had turned to her, a smile on his face. “What are you going to be when you grow up?” he’d asked.

  “The president of Leeds International, like Daddy,” she’d replied instantly, smiling at her father and bathing within his wide and proud smile.

  She had been at eight then. At nine and a half, her father didn’t smile like the same way anymore. Neither did Cassie. Instead, Cassandra had nightmares every night. They had started in the hospital and continued until she’d turned nineteen. For ten long years, Cassandra Leeds had been haunted and terrified by her dreams. The dream was always the same dream, and it always ended the same way. She would wake up screaming, her body bathed in sweat, her cries constant and heartrending.

  Tonight her nightmare had returned.

  Unable to stop the memories, Cassandra thought back to the accident. She had lost control of the horse; and, it had been her fault.

  But she hadn’t died. She had been in a coma for three weeks after the accident, which had left her with a broken pelvis, a broken leg, a fractured ankle, a concussion, and a herniated disk in her neck.

  When she had woken in the hospital, she did so screaming, until her mother had calmed her down with soothing words and gentle strokes.

  The pain was almost unbearable, but she’d survived. It took three months before she could walk without crutches and another month before she was free of most of the pain. But she’d learned one thing: She would never be free of her memories of that day.