After inspecting the one bedroom, she returned to the main living area and made a mental note to slap a fresh coat of paint on all the walls. She stepped into the kitchen and ran her hand over the counter. The room needed a remodel to bring it into the twentieth century. The appliances, though old, were in working order, thank goodness. The fridge was empty, but it looked to have been recently cleaned to a sparkling shine. She wondered if her neighbor had done the honors. The one window in the kitchen overlooked the back courtyard. Jordan stood at it and caught the majestic view of the mountains and found herself mesmerized again.
She took a step down from the kitchen into a sunken dining room. Sunlight poured in through a set of sliding glass doors that led out to the courtyard. Pressing her nose to the glass, she could picture a rebuilt stucco wall, a pretty blue gate, and blooming flowers sitting around the patio in ceramic pots. She could imagine herself drinking coffee and reading the newspaper out there in the mornings with the fountain gurgling beside her.
The house tour ended in the tiny bathroom. Like the kitchen, it also needed updating, but the large claw foot tub made her smile. Bubble baths were one of her favorite indulgences. Her spirits soared now. The house needed some work, but it was more than doable with the money Lydia had left her.
She checked her watch. After finalizing matters with the lawyer, she planned to lay in a few supplies before the day got away from her, so she locked the house and fired up the Jeep.
As she drove past the Circle B, she saw her neighbor’s truck parked by the barn, but no sign of the man. A dog lay curled on the front step, sleeping in the sun. More than a dozen horses grazed in a back pasture. She suspected some of them were Lydia’s—or rather, hers. Air whooshed from her mouth. The thought of being responsible for a herd of horses was overwhelming, but she wouldn’t think about that right now.
The Lucky Seven was just four miles out of town. Dust from her tires puffed into the air as she thundered down the gravel road. When she came upon a historic marker at the edge of the small town, she pulled over and stepped out to read what it said.
The Tularosa Basin has been occupied by Indian groups for thousands of years. The first Hispanic settlers moved here from the Rio Grande Valley in 1862. Anglo settlers and cattlemen began moving into the region in the 1870’s. The original 1862 town site has been designated a State and Historic District.
Many questions entered Jordan’s head, all of them about her aunt. How had Lydia come to own a ranch in New Mexico when generations of their family hailed from Colorado? What had the big argument been about that had caused her banishment from the family? Why had she left her ranch and savings to a niece she hadn’t even known? Jordan hoped to learn the answers to these mysteries one day. But today wasn’t that day.
She hopped back into the car and popped open the glove compartment. Inside was the envelope that had the lawyer’s address printed on it. While preparing for the trip before leaving Colorado, she’d gone onto the computer and gotten directions and scratched them onto the envelope. Turns out, the town was so small it was easy to find her way around.
Driving down Central Avenue, she took in the sights on both sides of the wide highway. She passed the Dusty Peddler, which looked like an antique shop, an ice cream shop called the Tulie Freeze, the Del Sol Gift Shop where large Native American rugs hung out front, the fire station, and a building covered with chili pepper ristras and wreaths.
Jordan slowed down when she came upon a pretty whitewashed church with bells and a cross on top. An arched entrance made of white plaster and stone guarded the entry, and the sign out front informed her it was St. Francis de Paula, a Franciscan Mission founded in 1865.
After turning down Grenado Street, she peered up and down looking for the lawyer’s office.
There were only a handful of stores on the street, so it didn’t take long to find the number painted on a small brick building. A sign on the door confirmed she was at the correct address. Parking at the curb, she let down her hair and swiftly ran a brush through it and then dabbed her lips with gloss in an attempt to look fresh.
Upon entering the law office, she found the front room empty. There was no receptionist at the desk to greet clients, which seemed unusual. Of course, she hadn’t called ahead or made an appointment. Someone must be here, she thought, since the door was unlocked. She waited a moment before calling out.
“Hello! Is anyone here?”
From the back of the building she heard what sounded like a mountain of papers crashing to the floor.
“Yes! I’m coming,” called a voice. A short man in jeans, a white shirt and bolo tie hurried in carrying an accordion file overflowing with documents. The man’s round glasses slid down the tip of his nose. “Can I help you?” he asked, dumping the jumble of papers into a wooden chair.
“Yes. Are you Mr. Taylor?”
“I am.”
“Hello.” She extended her hand. “I’m Jordan Mackenzie.” Apparently the name did not register with him so she repeated, “Jordan Mackenzie? I’m Lydia Albright’s niece. You sent me a letter about her ranch, the Lucky Seven.”
“Oh! Of course!” Taylor reached out to shake her hand. “I’m sorry, Miss Mackenzie. Please forgive me. It’s been one of those crazy days. I’m happy to meet you.”
“Thank you. Pleased to meet you, too.”
“I apologize about there being no one up here to greet you. My secretary has been out sick for a few days and I’ve been trying to manage on my own. It’s just her and me in the office. I really should have hired a temp.”
Glancing at the pile of disorganized papers on the chair, Jordan had to agree. “I’m sorry for not calling ahead. Is this a bad time? I could come back later. Or tomorrow, if it’s better for you.”
“No, no. It’s fine.” He glanced at his watch. “I have a few minutes before I have to leave for my next appointment. Let’s go to my office. This shouldn’t take long.”
Jordan followed him to the back and he offered her a chair. Then he excused himself and walked back to the front. She heard him rummaging through a file cabinet.
When he returned to his office he said, “I’m lost without my secretary. She’s rarely absent, so I rely heavily on her.”He showed Jordan a folder with her name on it and smiled. “Somehow I managed to find your file.” She breathed a sigh of relief.
“When did you arrive?” he asked, reaching into his back pocket. He yanked out a hankie and wiped his perspiring forehead.
“Just today. About an hour ago. Again, I apologize for not calling first. I should have. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
He waved her off. “No need. I have everything right here. Let me explain.” He placed some documents in front of her. “When Lydia came to see me about drawing up a will, she asked me to prepare a new deed as well, which I recorded at her request about a month before she died. I believe she knew her time was coming. As her only heir, she named you as executrix of her estate, deeded the ranch over to you, and added your name to her checking and savings accounts. She took care of every last detail. It’ll be the easiest estate I’ve ever settled.”
Jordan’s heart began to thump. Lydia had thought of everything, but now that she was hearing the words with her own ears, it all felt surreal.
“Lydia left nothing to chance,” the lawyer continued.
“She didn’t want the ranch falling into the wrong hands.” He ran his fingers through his combed-over hair and leaned back in his chair.
She looked him in the eye. “What do you mean by the wrong hands’? Was she referring to my grandmother?”
He stared at her with a blank expression. “I don’t know anything about your grandmother.”
“She’s Lydia’s sister. She lives in a long-term care facility in Denver.”
“Oh!” Taylor seemed genuinely surprised. “Ms. Albright never mentioned any sister. How strange. She said you were her only living heir.”
Jordan contemplated that news. Perhaps Lydia assumed Grandma
Laura had passed away. After all, from what she understood, the two sisters hadn’t spoken in many years.
“No matter,” Taylor replied. “By the wrong hands I believe Lydia was referring to Mr. Stillwell.”
Now it was Jordan’s turn to stare blankly. “Mr. Stillwell?”
“Addison Stillwell.” The lawyer’s eyebrow lifted. “You’ve never heard of him?”
She shook her head.
“He’s a large landowner and one of the wealthiest men in Otero County. He’s wanted your aunt’s ranch for years now, but she would never sell out. He tried everything— sweet-talk, bribes, threats—but Lydia would not budge. It was her home. She didn’t want to sell, especially to him. But I heard it from Lydia’s own mouth that Addison offered a great deal of money for the Lucky Seven. She once told me she could have bought two ranches with what he was willing to pay, but she refused. She stood her ground until the end.”
“Why wouldn’t she sell?” Jordan asked. “If this man offered her that much money, she could have bought herself a larger property for the horses and a newer house with modern conveniences. I don’t understand.”
“She refused out of principle. Addison Stillwell wants to build a massive housing development and Lydia was morally opposed to him destroying the natural land.”
That was understandable. “Okay, that makes sense to me,” Jordan said. “What I don’t get is why this Mr. Stillwell wanted her land in particular. What’s so special about those hundred acres that he’d try to bribe her or make threats against her? Surely he could find more acreage elsewhere to build a housing development on.”
The lawyer removed his glasses and set them on the desk in front of him. “This is going to sound odd to you, Ms. Mackenzie, but this area is chock-full of legends and unusual people who believe in ancient traditions and mystical things. I swear what I’m about to tell you is the truth.”
Her curiosity was more than piqued. She leaned forward. “Go on.”
Taylor cleared his throat. “Addison Stillwell is a man who believes in psychics. His personal soothsayer is an old Apache woman who lives up on Sierra Blanca, a mountain owned by the Mescalero tribe. According to rumor, several years ago she told Stillwell that your aunt’s land was blessed, and if he were to own it, he would become a very rich man. Apparently her word is gospel to him, so he’s been trying to buy the ranch ever since. Because it’s been called the Lucky Seven, even before your aunt purchased it years ago, Stillwell believes it’s a sign. He believes it’s his destiny to own that property.”
Jordan chuckled. “That’s ridiculous.”
“It may seem that way to you, as it does to me, but Addison Stillwell takes that Apache woman’s fortune telling abilities very seriously. He badgered Lydia for years without letting up.”
“I guess she put a stop to him. She never sold.”
“No, she didn’t. But he never gave up. I’m just telling you all this as a warning.”
“Do you believe he’s going to make me an offer on the ranch?”
“I have no doubt he will. I’ve known the man for many years. Addison never gives up until he gets what he wants. And he always gets what he wants, eventually.”
Jordan set her jaw and crossed her arms. “I can’t worry about something that might not happen.”
Taylor looked at her with thoughtfulness. “True. I felt it my obligation to explain the situation. That’s all.”
“I’m going to be frank with you,” Jordan said. “This whole thing has seemed dreamlike ever since I received your letter. I really don’t know why my aunt left the ranch to me. It’s a mystery I hope to unravel one of these days. But I’m thankful. I wish I would have known her. She sounds like one tough cookie.”
He chuckled. “That she was, Ms. Mackenzie. I’m happy for you. Do you plan to continue her horse rescue operation?”
She shook her head. “I’ve been a city girl all my life. I know nothing about horses. I don’t think I can continue with her cause, but I’ll care for the animals that were left to me, to the best of my ability, until I can make other arrangements for them.”
The lawyer stood and adjusted his tie. “I’m sure you’ll do a fine job, Ms. Mackenzie.” He slipped the documents into a large envelope and handed it to her. “Congratulations! You are the official owner of the Lucky Seven Ranch.” Checking his watch once more, he gave her a sheepish grin. “I hate to be rude, but I have an appointment in Alamogordo, and if I don’t leave now, I’ll certainly be late. Do you have any other questions?”
“No. Everything seems to be in order.” She stood and shook his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Taylor. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, and for the assistance and advice you gave my aunt.”
“You’re welcome. If you need my services again, or have any questions later, just call the office. Good luck to you.” He picked up his briefcase, grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair, and escorted Jordan to the front office. He held the door open for her and switched off the lights. Once they were outside, he locked the office door and said goodbye again, then hurried to his parked car.
Jordan walked to the curb and looked around allowing her thoughts to drift. She could hardly believe she was the owner of a New Mexico ranch! Thirty-five years old and she’d never owned anything of value or significance up to now, except her Jeep. Her life had taken such an amazing turn. Having no siblings, losing both parents and her grandfather so close together, and then having to put her grandma Laura in a care facility for Alzheimer’s patients, she’d not felt so lucky in recent years.
Just like others her age, she had worked a dead-end job, had a nice apartment and good friends. But what she’d wanted more than ever was marriage and a family. When she met Drew, she’d thought all her dreams had come true. Memories of those times flashed before her.
Drew was a photographer for National Geographic. Mutual friends had set them up, and the two of them had fallen in love quickly. He’d been everything Jordan always thought she’d wanted in a man. He was handsome, witty, adventuresome, and driven to be successful. Despite his career, which caused him to travel and be away from home more often than not, she’d thought he’d make a wonderful husband and father someday. For two long years they’d endured weeks, and even months, apart while he was on assignments all around the world. He’d never made her promises, but he’d always told Jordan how happy she made him.
When he was home, their life together seemed picture perfect. Sometimes he’d talk about settling down in one place, and she’d long for the day when that would happen. There were times, mostly at night, when he was thousands of miles away, when Drew would call and remind her how much he wanted to be with her. She’d thought it would only be a matter of time before he’d propose and they could move to the next step in their relationship—marriage and children. She sat down on the curb and recalled the events that had ultimately changed her life.
In the mail one day came the letter postmarked New Mexico. It began:
Dear Miss Mackenzie, I’m writing to inform you that you have inherited one hundred thousand dollars and the Lucky Seven Ranch, located in Tularosa, New Mexico, from Lydia M. Albright, who passed away on May 5.
Three days later, she’d received a phone call from Drew, who was in London on assignment. She’d been trying to reach him for days with no success. After leaving messages on his cell phone and at the hotel desk, she’d become frantic when they weren’t returned. The hotel concierge had assured her Drew had not checked out, but he never returned her calls.
When he finally did, the tone of his voice told her something was amiss. When questioned about his sobriety, he’d confessed he was drunk. He told her the craziest thing had happened and then refused to go on. Hauling the words out of him had been like drawing a bucket of water from a well.
When he’d finally admitted he’d met another woman and was in love, Jordan had felt like a three hundred pound football player had slammed her against a wall. He wasn’t coming home, he told her. She he
ard nothing after that.
After crying buckets of tears and feeling sorry for herself, she let her friends convince her to contact the lawyer in Tularosa. Soon after, she quit her job, packed her bags, and several weeks later, here she was— sitting on a curb in New Mexico, ready to start her life over. She glanced at the envelope in her hand. There would be no more mourning over the past and what she’d left behind. This was her future—New Mexico and the Lucky Seven. It was high time to celebrate.
Chapter Three
A bell jingled next door. Looking up from the curb, Jordan saw a sign flashing Tulie Café. What better way to celebrate than with comfort food! When she opened the door, she thought she’d stepped back in time. Steel bar stools with seats covered in red vinyl were pushed up to a counter with a Formica top. Behind the counter meat sizzled on an open grill, and a basic menu printed in large block letters hung on the wall. The tables were 1950’s style and the chairs were also steel with the same red vinyl seats. Booths lined the wall, and the black and white checked tile floor made her smile. Though the floor could have used a thorough scrubbing, the café was appealing and homey despite its aged retro appearance.
There were quite a few customers, unexpected considering the time of day. They all glanced at her briefly when she walked through the door, and then they went back to their own business. Jordan took a seat at the counter and perused the menu. Two cowboys, one Caucasian, one Hispanic, sat at the counter openly gawking. The Hispanic man was one stool away and the other just beyond him. The grill cook looked over his shoulder, caught a glimpse of her, and then went back to flipping burgers. A buxom waitress around Jordan’s age set a glass of water in front of her and pulled out a small notepad. Her nametag said Nicki.
“Hi. See anything you like?”
Eyeballing some slices of coconut cake sitting under a glass cake stand, Jordan said, “I’ll have a ham and cheese sandwich, iced tea, and a piece of that cake, please.”
Takin' The Reins Page 2
