“It was my grandmother’s,” he said. “It’s not junk to me.”
“Well, you can keep it, then. All I want is my half of the ranch.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Sandi, the ranch isn’t yours. It’s mine. And besides, you hate it.”
“I’ve been here seven years, Nate. That makes me your common-law wife.”
He let the broom clatter to the floor. “I offered to marry you—how many times? And you said no. And now all of a sudden you want to be my wife?”
“No. That’s the last thing in the world I want to be.”
“Thanks,” he muttered.
“But since we’re married in the eyes of the law, I get half of everything. And I want my half of the ranch.”
He leaned against the wall, assessing her the way he’d assess any enemy before a fight. Somehow, she didn’t look so beautiful anymore. There was a sharpness to her face he’d never noticed before, and a hard, greedy glint to her eyes. He narrowed his eyes and she looked away, faking interest in the view from the doorway.
“What the hell are you going to do with it?” he asked.
“Sell it.”
“It’s not for sale.”
“My half is.”
He kicked the pile of dust, stirring up a cloud that wafted down the aisle and settled over her fancy tooled boots. Picking up the broom, he went back to work as if she wasn’t there, forcing her to back out of the barn as he flung dust and straw toward the doorway.
“Nate,” she said. Her voice was taking on that hysterical edge he’d heard so often over the last few months. “Nate, talk to me. Dammit, don’t you have anything to say?”
“Just this,” he said, straightening and leaning on the broom. “You’ve taken everything I have. There’s nothing left—no money, no nothing. But that’s okay. All I want is for you to leave me alone. Me and Sam.”
“No problem,” she said. “Just sell the ranch, and give me half. You’ll never see me again.”
“No,” he said. “You can keep the money you already stole. But I’m not selling the ranch. It’s not mine to sell. It’s Sam’s.”
“Okay,” she said. “Then I want Sam.” Turning, she strode off to the house without a backward glance.
***
Sandi was leaving the house when Nate walked in an hour later. He stood back and she stalked down the steps, avoiding his eyes to stare haughtily across the yard. Taylor sat at the kitchen table, drinking a glass of water and reading a book. He looked up as Nate walked in.
“You’re a lucky man, Nate,” he said. “I envy you.”
Nate barked out a mirthless laugh. Well, at least Sandi wasn’t sharing their little drama with the clients. Taylor obviously had no idea what was going on in his life.
But even if he didn’t know about Sandi’s ultimatum, Taylor had no reason to envy him. The man was a movie star, rich beyond reason, with his pick of women. He probably only worked a few months out of the year, and he only had to pretend to be a cowboy, so he never had to deal with horse poop, drought, or, heaven forbid, a bunch of greenhorns descending on him demanding riding lessons.
Why the hell would he envy Nate?
Oh. Yeah.
“She’s pretty on the outside, I know,” Nate said. “But if it makes you feel any better, she’s not all flowers and sunshine.”
Taylor laughed. “No, I wouldn’t expect Charlie to be the flowers and sunshine type. But I’ll bet you’re never bored.”
Nate could feel warmth flooding his face. How did Taylor know he’d been with Charlie? Was the tie between them that obvious?
Could Sandi tell?
He swallowed. “I meant Sandi,” he said. “She’s my girlfriend. My ex, I mean. Charlie and I—Charlie and I aren’t together. Half the time, she can’t stand me.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Taylor said. “But I wasn’t talking about either one of them, actually. Or that cute little half-pint you’ve got, although I wish I had the chance to start over with Phaedra at that age.”
“Yeah,” Nate said, pleased. “Sam’s a good kid.”
“What I was talking about was Latigo,” Taylor said.
“What, the ranch? Yeah, I love it, but what do you see in it?” He glanced out the window, where the sunbaked outbuildings tilted like a drunken chorus line in the direction of the prevailing winds. There didn’t seem to be a straight wall or a square corner in the whole place, but it was home, and always had been.
“It’s not exactly a picture postcard,” Nate said.
Taylor shrugged. “I don’t know. The place has a lot of potential.”
Nate nodded. “It does,” he said. “I’m glad you can see it. God knows Sandi can’t, and neither could the folks at the bank. The place has supported my family for four generations, but the loan officer almost didn’t… oh, hell, you don’t want to know about that.”
Taylor looked puzzled. “You mortgaged it?”
Nate nodded, feeling a familiar headache set in as he clenched his teeth. “Sam was a preemie,” he said. “Born more than two months early. The doctor bills—well, it was crazy. I had to mortgage part of the place to pay them off.”
“That’s a shame,” Taylor said.
The pity in the actor’s tone made Nate clench his teeth even harder, and the dull ache in his head began to throb, swinging into a thumping cha-cha beat.
“We’re making it,” he said. “Sometimes it’s touch and go, but obviously Sam’s worth every penny. I just hope I can hang onto the place for her, you know?” He remembered Sandi’s threats and felt a heavy dose of dread settle in his stomach. “She loves it, and I want to make sure she’s generation five living off this land. It’s her heritage.”
“Maybe I could help,” Taylor said.
“No need,” Nate growled. “We’re okay.”
Taylor grinned. “I wasn’t offering charity.”
“Good,” Nate said. “I’m not taking any.”
“I figured that. Look, here’s the deal. I’d like to partner up with you. Buy into the ranch. I have some ideas to make it pay.”
Nate looked down at his lap. First Sandi, now Taylor—it seemed like everybody wanted a piece of what was his. “Can’t do it,” he said.
“I figured you’d say that. You’re not exactly the kind of guy who deals well with change, are you?” Taylor said.
“Guess not.” Taylor must have been talking to Sandi already. She was always saying he was afraid of change. Always trying to get him to turn the ranch into some kind of modern factory farm, or a dude ranch. Always trying to kill the traditions that had supported his family for generations. And now she was trying to take the place away.
He clenched his teeth. No way. The ranch had belonged to his grandparents, and their parents before them. It was his birthright, and, more important, it was Sam’s.
“Well, think about it,” Taylor said. “The offer stands. And if you ever decide to sell…”
“That’s not going to happen,” Nate said. “Not ever.”
“That’s not what your ex says,” Taylor said. “Sounds like she’s got you over a barrel. I’m just trying to help out. I’ve got a couple of solutions for you when you’re ready to listen. Unless you change your mind and want to sell the whole place.”
Damn. The girl ought to quit that beauty school and go into real estate.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Nate said, shoving his chair back from the table. He knew he should be more gracious, but anger was burning a hole in his gut. “I’m not selling.”
Chapter 29
Junior nickered softly when Charlie swung the stall door open. “Buddy,” she said, setting down a plastic bucket full of grooming gear. “How you doing today?”
She approached him cautiously, breathing down his nose in a slightly speeded-up run-through of their first encounter. When he calmed and accepted her presence, she ran one hand down his neck, then massaged the whorl on his forehead. The horse closed his eyes and blew out
a long, contented breath.
“I don’t know what to do, Junior,” she said. She slipped her palm under the currycomb’s backstrap and began massaging his gleaming bay coat with the slow circular motions Sam had demonstrated on Honey. “I should leave, huh? Get out of Dodge before this gets any worse.”
The horse let out a falsetto whinny that sounded distinctly negative.
“I know,” Charlie said. “I hate to leave Nate with Sandi. It’s like, I don’t know, like leaving an animal with an abusive owner. Same with Sam.” The stallion lowered his head and cocked one foot, letting his lashes drift down to cover his eyes. Sighing, he leaned into the pressure of her hand.
“I don’t think she treats them right, Junior. It’s not just that I’m jealous.”
The horse tossed his head and rolled his eyes.
“No, really. It’s just that I—I’ve gotten so I care, I guess.” Charlie worked her way down the horse’s muscular shoulder and across his back, then set a hand on his rump and stepped slowly around to the other side. “And how the hell did that happen? He’s a cowboy, for God’s sake. But he’s different, you know?” she said. “I mean, you like him. And you should know. You’re a horse.”
Straightening to work a cloud of dust and dander from Junior’s back, she began singing the low blues song that had soothed him the day before. Gradually, her concern for Nate, her worries about Sam, and her fears for the future gave way to peace. There was only herself, the stallion, and the song, spotlit by a shaft of sunlight in the sweet-smelling hay-filled barn.
She’d crooned out the second verse and was rounding the corner into the chorus when Junior opened his eyes and lifted his head, his ears flicking nervously backward and forward. Whinnying softly, he stamped a heavy front foot.
“Nice singing.”
Blinking as if she’d just awakened from sleep, Charlie turned to see Taylor Barnes resting his forearms on the rough wood edging the stall. He’d rolled up the sleeves on a striped Wrangler shirt, and she couldn’t help noticing the ropy muscles flexing when he shifted his grip.
“Nice horse too,” he said.
She almost said “nice arms,” but she stopped herself just in time.
Junior nodded his head, and for a minute, Charlie thought he was agreeing—but what the horse was really doing was expressing his unease at the nearness of this stranger. He stamped again, this time dropping one black hoof perilously close to Charlie’s own foot.
“Nice, but feisty,” she said, keeping her voice soft and low. “He’s a little scared of strangers. Could you back off just a little? Like over there?” She nodded almost imperceptibly toward the hay bales stacked against the wall a few feet behind Taylor.
“Sure,” Taylor said. “Keep on doing what you’re doing. I just didn’t want to poke around in here without letting you know I was around.” He settled onto the bales and rested against the wall, his long legs crossed at the ankles. “I’ve had some pretty private conversations with my own horse. Shared a lot of secrets.”
Wondering how much he’d heard, Charlie finished up Junior’s broad rump, then bent to trade the currycomb for a brush. With long, gentle strokes, she smoothed Junior’s gleaming coat. “They’re good listeners,” she said.
“Yeah,” Taylor said. “But it’s more than that. There’s something wise about them. I mean, Teaspoon doesn’t say a word when I tell him my troubles, but somehow, whenever we finish one of those one-sided conversations, I end up with everything all figured out.”
“Teaspoon?” Charlie smiled at the odd name.
“He’s a retired barrel horse. Girl who had him called him Sugar. Couldn’t let that stand. Figured Teaspoon was kind of related. Close enough, and he seems to prefer it.”
“Right,” Charlie said, holding back a smile and turning back to her work. “But I’m not sure even Junior can straighten out the mess I’m in.”
“Want to talk about it? I’m just a human, but maybe I could help.”
To Charlie’s surprise, she felt a sudden urge to spill her story to this stranger. Of course, she felt like she knew Chance Newton—everyone who’d ever seen West with the Wind felt the same way. But Chance was just a character in a story, she reminded herself. This was Taylor Barnes. And she didn’t know a thing about the man under the movie star façade—except that he’d abandoned his daughter, just like her own father. He was hardly qualified to give advice to anybody.
“Let’s see,” Barnes said. “I’ll wager it’s got something to do with Blondie out there.” He grinned. “Something to do with how she’s got our favorite cowboy jammed up against the wall.”
Charlie shook her head, heat stealing over her face. “It’s not my business,” she said flatly. “Or yours.”
“Nope. Probably not. But just so you know, he’s got some issues you might not know about. That little girl was born premature. Medical bills just about ruined him, I think.”
“I wondered,” Charlie said slowly. “I knew the ranch had been in the family, so I couldn’t figure out how he could be having so much trouble making a go of it.”
“Guess it’s mortgaged to the hilt,” Taylor said.
Charlie turned back to the horse. “Like I said—none of our business. Besides, shouldn’t you be out there bonding with your daughter?”
Taylor shook his head. “We’re taking it slow,” he said.
“I guess you could say that.” Charlie couldn’t keep the bite out of her voice. “Ten years between visits is pretty slow, all right.”
“There’s a reason for that.”
“I’m sure there is,” Charlie said evenly. She tried to swallow her anger, but it stuck in her craw like a piece of dry cake. When she looked over at Taylor, it was like she could see her own father, living out his life somewhere else, with barely a thought for his abandoned daughter. What would she do if he turned up and wanted a reconciliation?
She’d walk away. That’s all men like that deserved. It would just about kill her, but she’d walk away. Show him how it felt.
“I’m sure there’s a reason,” she said. “But there’s no excuse.”
“You’re right,” he said. “But I was wondering if you could help me out. You’re in psychology, right? I really want to fix things with Phaedra, but I don’t even know where to start.”
“I can tell you where to start,” Charlie said. “About ten years ago.” She shifted, turning her back on the actor.
“Look, that wasn’t my choice,” Taylor said. “Her mother’s done everything she can to keep me from seeing her. Including telling her I’m a first-class bastard who doesn’t care about her.”
“And you do?” Charlie asked.
Taylor nodded, accepting her sharp tone as if he deserved it. That gained him a few points, but still…
“It’s going to take a while to convince her I’m sincere,” he said.
“And you are?”
“I am,” Taylor said. “I’ve wanted to see her. I really have. But her mother made some—some threats. Said she’d make—accusations—unless I sent the check every month and stayed out of her life.”
Charlie gave Junior a final stroke with the brush and set it back in the bucket, then carried the whole kit out of the stall and sat down beside Taylor.
“What kind of accusations?” she asked.
“The worst kind.” Taylor was staring down at his hands, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Look, I shouldn’t talk about this. No offense, but every time I confide in somebody there’s a risk it’ll end up in the tabloids. So until I know you better…”
All of a sudden, Charlie realized what kind of accusations Taylor’s wife was talking about. Taylor had money and influence, but he was a public figure, and gossip travels fast. One whisper and he’d be the next Michael Jackson.
“I guess I can understand that,” she said. “But I’m not sure Phaedra will. You have a lot of fence to mend.”
When had she started talking in cowboy metaphors? She tried to think of something Jersey-ish to
say, but swearing didn’t seem appropriate.
“I sure do,” Taylor said. “It’s going to be a long road, and I don’t even know where to start. I know more about horses than about teenagers. I should be going to a parenting clinic, not a horse training one.”
“Well, maybe you can apply the same theories,” Charlie said. “That’s kind of what I’m going for with my research. How to learn from our interactions with animals, use them to enhance our relationships. I’m thinking their cues are more subtle, harder to pick up on. They bring out instincts we’ve forgotten how to use.”
Taylor nodded, pressing his lips together and looking down into his lap. “I could try that,” he said. “But it’s so different. I mean, I’m not going to put a halter on her and lead her around, you know?”
Charlie laughed. “Good thing, because I don’t think she’d let you. But you can’t push her. Not after all this time.”
The angled shaft of sunlight creating a dance hall for dust motes above the golden hay dimmed, then brightened as someone stepped into the barn.
“You’re right,” Sandi said. “You can’t push me. Not after all I’ve been through with Nate.” She tossed her hair and shot Taylor a teasing glance. “But when I get tossed off a bronc, I just climb right back on again.”
“I thought you were afraid of horses,” Charlie said. “Besides, we weren’t talking about you.” Grabbing the grooming bucket, she stood up. “Believe it or not,” she muttered.
Sandi instantly took her seat beside Taylor and graced him with a luminous smile before turning back to Charlie. “You know not to get anywhere near that stallion, right? He’s vicious.”
“I just got done grooming him,” Charlie said.
Sandi’s eyes widened. “You did?”
Charlie nodded. She told herself to stop there, but she couldn’t resist a childish urge to one-up Sandi. “Nate showed me how,” she said.
“Charlie’s a good hand with the horses,” Taylor said. “Got a real gift.”
Sandi sniffed and looked away. “Well, it’s almost time for dinner,” she said. “So I guess Nate needs your help again.”
One Fine Cowboy Page 20
