Kentucky Heat

by Fern Michaels

  “Will you just shut the hell up, Sawyer? That mouth of yours is always running. You have to appear in court. You were subpoenaed. None of us wants to do this. We have no other choice. Legal is legal.”

  “You’re an asshole, too, Riley. You started this damn mess. I just hate it. Do you hear me, I hate it. I want out. I don’t care if I have to pick shit with the chickens, I want out.”

  “After tomorrow you’re out,” Riley roared. “Now just shut up.”

  “Your doorbell is ringing, Riley,” Sawyer sniped. “That means you have company. It’s probably someone else with papers to serve us. Us. All of us. Don’t recognize the car,” she said, peering out the kitchen window. “Oh, Jesus, God, it’s Nealy Clay!”

  They rushed from the table to peer out the window.

  “She looks like a woman with a mission,” Sawyer sniped again. “Just for the fucking record, I like her. Isn’t somebody going to go to the door?”

  “I’ll go,” Maggie said quietly.

  Nealy’s heart had started to pound the moment she turned off the ignition. The windshield wipers squeaked to a halt as rain continued to roll down the window. Within seconds, outside visibility was practically zero. Without the sound of the radio and the hum of the heater, the now-silent car took on an ominous silence. She shivered inside her suede jacket. She wished for an umbrella, knowing she was going to get soaked the moment she stepped out of the rental car. She had to run across the compound to the wide back porch with its green-and-white-striped awning. Six hundred feet at least. She looked down at the thick yellow envelope on the seat next to her, wondering again what she hoped to gain by coming here.

  Get out of the damn car, Nealy, and do what you came here to do, a voice inside her head prompted.

  Through the pouring rain she could almost make out a neat line of cars. That had to mean the whole family was here, and ready to go to court to strip her and her family of what belonged to them. She clenched her jaw so tight she thought she heard it crack. “That’s why I’m here,” she muttered.

  Clem had been dead set against her doing anything but fighting things out in court. Ruby, even though she’d said, “Do what you gotta do,” didn’t really mean it. Nealy could read the disappointment in her eyes.

  Black heart.

  How many times had her husband told her she had a black heart? Hundreds, probably, in the years before his death. For reasons she never quite understood, she had been a great disappointment to him. More than once it had occurred to her that he had expected too much of her. It had also occurred to her that she usually expected too much of herself. How had that happened? You’re procrastinating. Get out of the damn car, Nealy, and do what you came here to do. Just do it.

  Her hand was on the latch that would open the door when a different voice, Smitty’s, thundered in her ears. “Just make damn sure you can live with whatever you do.” Could she? Hell, yes, she could. She grabbed for the yellow envelope.

  Somehow the door opened. She couldn’t remember exerting any pressure to make it swing wide on its hinges. She wished it were a bright, sunny day so she could really see this place called Sunbridge that was now hers, thanks to the contents of the envelope in her hand. According to the papers she was carrying, everything belonged to her, Sunbridge with all its thousands of acres and all the other Coleman enterprises.

  Black heart.

  Nealy ran across the compound, counting the line of cars. Five.

  Black heart.

  The door opened before she had a second chance to ring the bell on the side of the screen door. “Come in, Nealy,” Maggie Tanaka said. She held out a green-and-white-checkered hand towel. Nealy shrugged aside the offering. Rain dripped off the Stetson. She reached up to remove her hat, gave it a gentle shake, then settled it more firmly on her head.

  She saw it all in one wide glance, the dust bunnies under the table, the coffee cups, the whiskey bottles, half-eaten sandwiches. She saw the sick, miserable expressions on all their faces, the slump of their shoulders.

  Maggie Tanaka cleared her throat. “Would you like some coffee, Nealy? It’s fresh.”

  Black heart.

  “No thank you. I won’t be here long enough to drink it.”

  “Why are you here, Nealy?” Sawyer asked.

  She had rehearsed the answer to that question all day. “That smart-ass lawyer you all hired to file suit against me made a little mistake,” she said, pausing to create a moment of tension. “The horses at SunStar Farms belong to Metaxas Parish. In your lawyer’s discovery, she asked the value of the horses, not who owned them. I hold a multimillion dollar lien on SunStar Farms. So you see, you get nothing but land, barns, and a house.” If she’d said the Devil himself was dancing with the Archangel in the middle of the Houston Astrodome, she couldn’t have hoped for a better reaction. As one they shrank before her very eyes.

  Blackheartblackheartblackheart.

  Nealy took a step forward and slid the padded yellow envelope across the table. All eyes followed it until it came to rest in front of Riley Coleman. He made no move to touch it. One by one, they raised their eyes to stare directly at her.

  Black heart.

  Anger roiling inside her, Nealy was hard-pressed to maintain a calm, even voice, as she said, “You might want to think twice before you open that envelope, Mister Coleman, and show everyone just how much in debt you really were.” Riley raised his eyes to meet hers. “I’ll give you credit for one thing. You sure do have a knack for making poor investments.”

  A surge of gratification ran through Nealy at his anxious look. “That envelope contains paid-in-full receipts for all your outstanding loans. I, Nealy Clay, paid them off.” She gave him a cold, hard smile. “Legally,” she added, opening her arms wide, “everything you have belongs to me now.” The magnitude of her words washed over her with such force it made her light-headed. “But since I don’t want to be like you, like any of you,” she said, giving her conscience a chance to speak, “I’m giving it all back, free and clear.” She stepped away from the table and blinked back the threatening tears. “I thought I wanted to belong to this family. I know now that isn’t what I wanted at all. I don’t like you people. And I hate what you tried to do to my brothers. Someday, someone far wiser than I will hold you all accountable. This is the end of it, do you hear me? The end. I hope I never have to set eyes on any of you again!”

  In the time it took her heart to beat twice, she was outside in the pouring rain. It felt cold and wonderful. So wonderful she drove away with her windows rolled down, the rain pelting her through the window. She wished she could tell someone what she’d just done. “Hey, Hunt, if you’re up there, can you hear me?”

  “I hear you, Nealy. You did good back there. I’m proud of you.”

  “Do you still think I have a black heart, Hunt?”

  “You aren’t out of the woods yet. One good deed isn’t going to cut it.”

  Nealy laughed, a joyous sound. “Now why did I know you were going to say that?”

  “You okay with all of this, Nealy?”

  “I’m okay with it, Hunt. Anything else you want me to do?”

  “Now that you mention it, you could make nice to my buddy Hatch.”

  Nealy laughed aloud. “Don’t push it, Hunt.”

  “Think about it, Nealy. That’s all I ask. Just think about it. Give old Hatch the benefit of the doubt. For me. For old times’ sake.”

  Nealy nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

  The laughter was warm and intimate. Nealy flushed all the way down to her toes.

  “See ya, Nealy.”

  “Yeah. You’re watching the kids, right?”

  “Every minute.”

  “Thanks.”

  “My pleasure.”

  The smile stayed on Nealy’s face all the way back to the hotel.

  Inside her room, which was toasty warm, Nealy shed her wet clothes and availed herself of the thirsty robe folded neatly on top of the long vanity, compliments of the hotel. Wi
thin seconds she had the phone in one hand, a cigarette in the other. Her brother Pyne picked up the phone on the third ring. He sounded stressed. “It’s Nealy, Pyne. Listen, you don’t have to go to court. Cancel your flights. I’m here, and I’ve taken care of everything. No one is going to take the farm. No one. Do you hear what I’m saying? We’re in the clear.”

  “Jesus, Nealy, how’d you manage that? You sure they aren’t going to pull some more of their magic tricks? Wait a minute, what did you have to give up to get them to agree?”

  Nealy laughed. She heard the anxiousness in his voice and explained what she had done. “Their homestead. I wish you could have seen them, Pyne. They couldn’t believe it. Hell, I don’t believe I did it either, but it feels good. This is going to sound strange, but I felt sorry for them. They looked so . . . so beaten. I think we would have won in court, but I decided that wasn’t good for any of us. It’s over. How’s everything?”

  “Thank God. Things are pretty good. No complaints. Be nice if you came for a visit.”

  Hearing the relief in Pyne’s voice was all the proof she needed that she’d done the right thing. “We can move on now, Pyne. All of us. You can get back to making SunStar Farms everything it can be and I . . . I’m going to go in search of Mama’s people. I’ve got some leads on Mama I’m going to follow up on today. I’ll call you tonight if anything pans out. Hug Rhy for me, okay?”

  “I’m not hugging Rhy, Nealy,” Pyne grumbled.

  “Okay, okay, slap him on the back for me.”

  “Nealy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thanks. I guess I should say more, but I don’t know the words.”

  Nealy’s eyes misted. “Thanks is enough. I’ll call you later.”

  Nealy looked around. It was a beautiful hotel room, almost like someone’s private apartment. It was tastefully decorated with a small sofa and two wing chairs that matched the drapes and carried through to the thick comforter and designer pillows on the king-size bed. She eyed the bed. Maybe she needed a nap to drive away the drained feeling that seemed to be taking over her body. What was it Maud used to say? Oh yes, “I’ll just sit here and get forty winks and then I’ll be good to go.” Forty winks it is. Not yet though. She had one more phone call to make.

  Nealy listened to the phone ring on the other end of the line. Seven rings later the breathless attorney said, “Hello, Clementine Fox speaking.”

  “Clem, it’s Nealy Clay,” she said cheerfully.

  “Nealy, can this wait, I’m going to miss my flight if I don’t leave right this second.”

  “That’s why I’m calling you, Clem. You don’t have to leave. It’s over and done with. I took care of everything. The Colemans and I have settled up so to speak. Send me your bill, and we’ll call it a day.”

  The attorney’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Nealy, what did you do?”

  “I just came back from Sunbridge. I gave them back their homestead. I signed off on all the loans. It’s over.” For some reason she still couldn’t believe she’d done it. It had been a last-second decision but the right one for all concerned.

  “And . . .”

  “There is no ‘and.’ It’s done. It was the right thing to do. I think I might still be angry deep inside, but the anger will go away at some point. I did feel good when I did it. I don’t want to be like them. I don’t want to belong to that family. Thanks for everything. See you around.”

  “Nealy, I’m not sending you a bill. It was a pleasure doing business with you. For whatever it’s worth, I’m proud of you.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of Nealy’s mouth as she hung up the phone.

  Nealy smacked her hands together in satisfaction. Now it was really over.

  Feeling good about herself, Nealy curled into a ball on the big bed and was asleep within minutes.

  Forty miles away in the Coleman kitchen at Sunbridge, the occupants stared at one another, their faces registering shock, dismay, and shame.

  An ugly look on her face, Sawyer slammed the coffeepot on the counter. “Now that the roof over your head is secure and the hallowed ground once more belongs to you, I think I’ll head back home to my husband and my new job that I shouldn’t have to work at.”

  “I can pay you and Adam back now, Sawyer,” Riley said, a desperate look on his face.

  She glared at him. “That’s pretty funny, Riley. You’re going to pay me back with Nealy Clay’s money. No thanks. Get off your ass and make this ranch profitable. The drought’s over. Don’t call me, I’ll call you.” She slammed the door behind her.

  Cole clicked his tongue in disgust. “She’s a hothead, always was, always will be,” Cole said, his eyes on his mother, Maggie. “Mom, what do you think?”

  “What I think is that Nealy Clay is like Mam used to be—one tough cookie when the chips were down,” Maggie said, referring to Billie Coleman, the matriarch of the Coleman clan. “I don’t care what any of you think; I, for one, admire Nealy Clay. I’m sorry it all ended like this. Somewhere, someplace, somehow, all of us came to believe this place called Sunbridge was something special. It’s like thousands of other places. It’s brick and mortar and acreage. It’s not sacred. Home is wherever you are. Home is where your things are with the people you love and care about. A trailer, a tent, an apartment can be home. I’ll be leaving now, too. If I were you, Riley, I’d call Ivy and ask her to come home. I am just sick over this. And no, like Sawyer, I don’t want you paying Henry and me back with Nealy Clay’s money.” Her gaze narrowed as she homed in on her son and nephew. “Mam thought you were man enough to take over Sunbridge, Riley. You failed her, and don’t blame it all on the drought either. Cole, Shad turned over a multibillion dollar aeronautics empire to you, and you’re in the hopper. If you had been on top of things, this wouldn’t have happened. You were both asleep at the switch. I want to leave you both with this thought. Coleman Aviation with Sawyer at the helm was thriving until you mortgaged it to the hilt. Billie Limited is alive and well thanks to me. We’re women. If we can do it, why can’t you? One last thing, don’t either one of you ever forget that Nealy Clay and her brothers rightfully belong here. More so than any of us. Illegitimate or not, they are Seth Coleman’s children. Children. Not grandchildren, not nieces and nephews. His children. It was all in the papers the attorneys gave to us. We could never dispute it. Good-bye everyone.”

  “Guess she told us,” Cole mumbled as he reached for the bottle of Jim Beam. He poured a healthy jolt into Riley’s cup, then filled his own. “What should we drink to, cousin?”

  “How about shame?” Riley said, holding out his cup.

  “I got a bellyful of that. To shame. Ours. We can never make this right, Riley.”

  “I know.”

  Cole poured again. “We need to talk. Let’s go up to the hill and hash it out the way Colemans always do when they have problems.”

  “That’s the best idea I’ve heard in a coon’s age.” Riley reached for the Jim Beam. Cole reached for the other bottle.

  Together they walked up to the hill to the family cemetery, their hearts troubled, their eyes downcast. Other family members who had made the same trek thousands of times over the years had worn the round medallions of stone on the pathway to a smooth, satiny finish.

  “See that tree, Cole,” Riley said, pointing to an ancient cottonwood. “That’s what Ivy and I hung on to when the tornado whipped through here. I thought that day was the worst day of my life. I was wrong. This is the worst day of my life. In minutes it was all gone. Ivy said in a way it was a good thing. It was a new beginning for all of us. He was a bastard, Cole,” Riley said, waving the whiskey bottle in the general direction of Seth Coleman’s grave. “I don’t know if I want to be buried up here with him. If you stay in Japan, are you going to want to be buried on the Cherry Blossom Hill?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. I feel like bawling. We fucked up, Riley. We didn’t just fuck up, we really fucked up. I want your permission to go back to
Japan and boot those black suits the hell out of there.”

  Riley took a long pull from the bottle. “You shoulda listened to me a long time ago. I told you the old ways don’t work anymore,” he said, slurring his words. “Fire them all. Kick ass and take names later. Do it! You don’t need my permission.”

  “Maybe I don’t need it. I want it. You okay with it?”

  “Yeah. Tell me what to do, Cole. I’m swimming upstream here.”

  “If you trust me, if you give me six months, I can bring Rising Sun around to where it was. What’s mine is yours. There’s oil here, Riley, I can smell it.”

  “I can smell it, too. Bankers don’t go by smells. Six months it is, cousin.”

  “There’s a glitch, Riley.”

  “There always is,” Riley said, tilting the bottle.

  “You need to go back to Japan with me. The black suits will take it better with you standing next to me.”

  “Okay.”

  “You gave in too easily, cuz. I thought I would have to fight you to agree.”

  “It’s time for me to go back. I have to clean up all my loose ends before I can ask Ivy to come home. Whatever it takes. I wish I was a kid again. We can pull it together, can’t we, Cole?”

  “Hey, we’ve been through a lot of shit together. This should be a walk in the park compared to that plane rescue in the Alps.” Cole stared up at the old cottonwood tree, remembering the time he and Riley had flown to Switzerland to save the passengers on a downed airliner because his mother Maggie’s stepdaughter was on board. “That was a nightmare from hell, but we did it and no one died,” he said, clapping Riley on the shoulder. “We’ll leave in the morning.”

  Riley nodded. “Do you miss them, Cole?” he said, pointing to the line of gravestones.

  “More than you know.”

  “Do you think he’s in hell?”

  “Yeah. ’Cause that’s where he belongs. Let’s say our prayer and go back to the house. We’re soaked to the skin. We must be nuts standing out here like this. Hell, I didn’t even realize it was raining until just now. I guess we really are drunk.”