by Diana Palmer
“They're not going to win this case,” Julie raged at Jordan. “I want you to get me the best attorney in Austin!
We're going to put Calhoun Ballenger right in the gutter where he belongs, along with all these jump-up nouveau riche that think they own our county!”
Jordan, who was one of those jump-ups, gave her a curious look. “Excuse me?” he asked coolly.
“Well, I'm not standing by while Ballenger talks my father's constituents into deserting him!”
“You're the one who's been making allegations, Julie,” Jordan said quietly. “To anyone who was willing to listen.”
She waved that away. “You have to do that to win elections.”
“I'm not going to be party to anything dishonest,” Jordan said through his teeth.
Julie backed down. She curled against him and sighed. “Okay. I'll tone it down, for your sake. But you aren't going to let Calhoun Ballenger sue me, are you?”
Jordan didn't know what he was going to do. He felt uneasy at Julie's temperament and her tactics. He'd taken her side against Kemp when she told him that one of the boys at her graduation party had put something in the Culbertson girl's drink and she couldn't turn him in. She'd cried about Libby Collins making horrible statements against her. But Libby had never done such a thing before.
He'd liked being Julie's escort, being accepted by the social crowd she ran around with. But it was getting old and he was beginning to believe that Julie was only playing up to him for money to put into her father's campaign.
Libby had tried to warn him and he'd jumped down her throat. He felt guilty about that, too. He felt guilty about
a lot of things lately.
“Listen,” he said. “I think you need to step back and take a good look at what you're doing. Calhoun Ballenger isn't some minor citizen. He and his brother own a feedlot that's national y known. Besides that, he has the support of most of the people in Jacobsville with money.”
“My father has the support of the social set,” she began.
“Yes, but Julie, they're the old elite. The demographics have changed in Jacobs County in the past ten years.
Look around you. The Harts are a political family from the roots up. Their brother is the state attorney general and he's already casting a serious eye on what's going on in the Jacobsville city council, about those police officers the mayor's trying to suspend.”
“They can't do anything about that,” she argued.
“Julie, the Harts are related to Chief Grier,” he said shortly.
She hesitated. For the first time, she looked uncertain.
“Not only that, they're related to the governor and the vice president. And while it isn't well-known locally,
Grier's people are very wealthy.”
She sat down. She ran a hand through her blond hair. “Why didn't you say this before?”
“I tried to,” he pointed out. “You refused to listen.”
“But Daddy can't possibly lose the election,” she said with a child's understanding of things. “He's been state senator from this district for years and years.”
“And now the voters are looking for some new blood,” he told her. “Not only in local government, but in state
and national government. You and your father don't really move with the times, Julie.”
“Surely, you don't think Calhoun can beat Daddy?” she asked huskily.
“I think he's going to,” he replied honestly, ramming his hands into his pockets. “He's way ahead of your father in the polls. You know that. You and your father have made some bad enemies trying to have those police officers fired.
You've gotten on the wrong side of not only Cash Grier, But the Harts as well. There will be repercussions. I've already heard talk of a complete recall of the mayor and the city council.”
“But the mayor is Daddy's nephew. How could they?”
“Don't you know anything about small towns?” he pound out. “Julie, you've spent too much time in Austin with your father and not enough around here where the elections are decided.”
“This is just a hick town,” she said, surprised. “Why should I care what goes on here?”
Jordan's face hardened. “Because Jacobs County is the biggest county in your father's district. He can't get re-elected without it. You've damaged his campaign by the way you've behaved to Libby Collins.”
“That nobody?” she scoffed.
“Her father is a direct descendant of old John Jacobs,” he pointed out. “They may not have money and they may not be socially acceptable to you and your father, but the Collinses are highly respected here. The reason Calhoun's got such support is because you've tried to hurt Libby.”
“But that's absurd!”
“She's a good person,” he said, averting his eyes as he recalled his unworthy treatment of her and of Curt on Julie's behalf. “She's had some hard knocks recently.”
“So have I,” Julie said hotly. “Most notably, having a lawsuit filed against me for defamation of character by that lawyer Kemp!” She turned to him. “Are you going to get me a lawyer, or do I have to find my own?”
Jordan was cutting his losses while there was still time. He felt like ten kinds of fool for the way he'd behaved in the past few weeks. “I think you'd better do that yourself,” he replied. “I'm not going against Calhoun Ballenger.”
She scoffed. “You'll never get that Collins woman to like you again, no matter what you do,” she said haughtily. “Or didn't you know that she and her brother have forfeited the ranch to the bank?”
He was speechless. “They've what?”
“Nobody would loan them the money they needed to save it,” she said with a cold smile. “So the bank president foreclosed. Daddy had a long talk with him.”
He looked furious. His big fists clenched at his hips. “That was low, Julie.”
“When you want to win, sometimes you have to fight dirty,” she said simply. “You belong to me. I'm not letting some nobody of a little dirt rancher take you away from me. We need you.”
“I don't belong to you,” he returned, scooping up his hat. “In fact, I've never felt dirtier than I do right now.”
She gaped at him. “I beg your pardon! You can't talk to me like that!”
“I just did.” He started toward the door.
“You're no loss, Jordan,” she yelled after him. “We needed your money, but I never wanted you! You're one of those jump-ups with no decent background. I'm sorry I ever invited you here the first time. I'm ashamed that I told my friends I liked you!”
“That makes two of us,” he murmured icily, and he went out the door without a backward glance.
Kemp was going over some notes with Libby when Jordan Powell walked into the office without bothering to knock.
“I'd like to talk to Libby for a minute,” he said solemnly, hat in hand.
Libby stared at him blankly. “I can't think what you have to say,” she replied. “I'm very busy.”
“She is,” Kemp replied. “I'm due in court in thirty minutes.”
“Then I'll come back in thirty minutes,” Jordan replied.
“Feel free, but I won't be here. I have nothing to say to you, Jordan,” she told him bluntly. “You turned your back on me when I needed you the most. I don't need you now. I never will again.”
“Listen,” he began impatiently.
“No.” She turned back to Kemp. “What were you saying, boss?”
Kemp hesitated. He could see the pain in Jordan's face fend he had some idea that Jordan had just found out the truth about Julie Merrill. He checked his watch. “Listen, I can read your writing. Just give me the pad and I'll get
to the courthouse. It's okay,” he added when she looked as if he were deserting her to the enemy. “Really.”
She bit her lower lip hard. “Okay.”
“Thanks,” Jordan said stiffly, as Kemp got up from the desk.
“You owe me one,” he replied, as he passed the taciturn rancher on t
he way out the door.
Minutes later, Mabel went into Kemp's office to put some notes on his desk, leaving Jordan and Libby alone.
“I've made some bad mistakes,” he began stiffly. He hated apologies. Usual y, he found ways not to make them.
Hut he'd hurt Libby too badly not to try.
She was staring at her keyboard, trying not to listen.
“You have to understand what it's been like for me,” he said hesitantly. He sat down in a chair next to her desk, with his wide-brimmed hat in his hands. “My people were like yours, poor. My mother had money, but her people disinherited her when she married my dad. I never had two nickels to rub together. I was that Powel kid, whose father worked for wages, whose mother was reduced to working us a housekeeper.” He stared at the floor with his pride aching. “I wanted to be somebody, Libby. That's all I ever wanted. Just to have respect from the people who mattered in this town.” He shrugged. “I thought going around with Julie would give me that.”
“I don't suppose you noticed that her father belongs to
a group of respectable people who no longer have any power around here,” she said stiffly.
He sighed. “No, I didn't. I had my head turned. She was beautiful and rich and cultured, and she came at me like
a hurricane. I was in over my head before I knew it.”
Libby, who wasn't beautiful or rich or cultured, felt her heart breaking. She knew all this, but it hurt to hear him admit it. Because it meant that those hungry, sweet kisses she'd shared with him meant nothing at all. He wanted Julie.
“I've broken it off with her,” he said bluntly.
Libby didn't say anything.
“Did you hear me?” he asked impatiently.
She looked up at him with disillusioned eyes. “You believed her. She said I was shacking up with Harley Fowler.
She said I attacked her in this office and hurt her feelings. You believed al that, even though you knew me. And when she attacked me in Barbara's Cafe and on the courthouse steps, you didn't say a thing.”
He winced.
“Words don't mean anything, Powell,” she said bitterly. “You can sit there and apologize and try to smooth over what you did for the rest of your life, but I won't listen. When I needed you, you turned your back on me.”
He drew in a long breath. “I guess I did.”
“I can understand that you were flattered by her attention,” she said. “But Curt and I have lost everything we had. Our father is dead and we don't even have a home anymore.”
He moved his hat in his hands. “You could move in with me.”
She laughed bitterly. “Thanks.”
“No, listen,” he said earnestly, leaning forward.
She held up a hand. “Don't. I've had all the hard knocks I can handle. I don't want anything from you, Jordan.
Not anything at all.”
He wanted to bite something. He felt furious at his own stupidity, at his blind allegiance to Julie Merrill and her father, at his naiveté in letting them use him. He felt even worse about the way he'd turned on Libby. But he was afraid of what he'd felt for her, afraid of her youth, her changeability. Now he only felt like a fool.
“Thanks for the offer and the apology,” she added heavily. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”
She turned on the computer, brought up her work screen and shut Jordan out of her sight and mind.
He got up slowly and moved toward the door. He hesitated at it, glancing back at her. “What about the autopsy?” he asked suddenly.
She swallowed hard. “Daddy died of a heart attack, just like the doctors said,” she replied.
He sighed. “And Violet's father?”
“Was poisoned,” she replied.
“Riddle had a lucky escape,” he commented. “So did you and Curt.”
She didn't look at him. “I just hope they can find her, before she kills some other poor old man.”
He nodded. After a minute, he gave her one last soulful glance and went out the door.
Life went on as usual. Calhoun's campaign staff cranked up the heat. Libby spent her free time helping to make
up flyers and make telephone calls, offering to drive voters to the polls during the primary election if they didn't have a way to get to the polls.
“You know, I really think Calhoun's going to win,” Curt told Libby while they were having a quick lunch together on Saturday, after she got off from work.
She smiled. “So do I. He's got all kinds of support.” He picked at his potato chips. “Heard from Jordan?” She stiffened. “He came by the office to apologize a few days ago.”
He drew in a long breath. “Rumor is that Julie Merrill's courting Duke Wright now.”
“Good luck to her. He's still in love with his wife. And he's not quite as gullible as Jordan.”
“Jordan wasn't so gullible,” he defended his former boss. “When a woman that pretty turns up the heat, most normal men will follow her anywhere.”
She lifted both eyebrows. “Even you?”
He grinned. “I'm not normal. I'm a cowboy.”
She chuckled and sipped her iced tea. “They're still looking for Janet. I've had an idea,” she said.
“Shoot.”
“What if we advertise our property for sale in all the regional newspapers?”
“Whoa,” he said. “We can't sell it. We don't have power of attorney and the will's not even in probate yet.”
“She's a suspected murderess,” she reminded him. “Felons can't inherit, did you know? If she's tried and convicted, we might be able to get her to return everything she got from Daddy's estate.”
He frowned, thinking hard. “Do you remember Dad telling us about a new will he'd made?”
She blinked. “No.”
“Maybe you weren't there. It was when he was in the hospital, just before he died. He could hardly talk for the pain and he was gasping for breath. But he said there was a will. He said he put it in his safest place.” He frowned heavily. “I never thought about that until just now, but what if he meant a new will, Libby?”
“It wouldn't have been legal if it wasn't witnessed,” she said sadly. “He might have written something down and she found it and threw it out. I doubt it would stand up in court.”
“No. He went to San Antonio without Janet, about two days before he had the heart attack,” he persisted.
“Who did he know in San Antonio?” she wondered aloud.
“Why don't you ask Mr. Kemp to see if his private detective could snoop around?” he queried softly.
She pursed her lips. “It would be a long shot. And we couldn't afford to pay him.”
“Dad had a coin collection that was worth half a million dollars, Libby,” Curt said. “It's never turned up. I can't find any record that he ever sold it, either.”
Her lips fell open. In the agony of the past few months, that had never occurred to her. “I assumed Janet cashed it in.”
“She had the insurance money,” he reminded her, “and the property or so she assumed. But when we were sorting out Dad's personal belongings, that case he kept the coins in was missing. What if ” he added eagerly “ he took it to San Antonio and left it with someone, along with an altered will?”
She was trying to think. It wasn't easy. If they had those coins, if nothing else, they could make the loan payment.
“I can ask Mr. Kemp if he'll look into it,” she said. “He can take the money out of my salary.”
“I can contribute some of mine,” Curt added.
She felt lighter than she had in weeks. “I'll go ask him right now!”
“Finish your sandwich first,” he coaxed. “You've lost weight, baby sister.”
She grimaced. “I've been depressed since we had to leave home.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
She smiled at him. “But things are looking up!”
She found Kemp just about to leave for the day. She stopped him at the door and told him wha
t she and Curt had been discussing.
He closed the door behind them, picked up the phone, and dialed a number. Libby listened while he outlined the case to someone, most likely the private detective he'd hired to look for Janet.
“That's right,” he told the man. “One more thing, there's a substantial coin collection missing as well. I'll ask.” He put his hand over the receiver and asked Libby for a description of it, which he gave to the man. He added a few more comments and hung up, smiling.
“Considering the age of those coins and their value, it wouldn't be hard to trace them if they'd been sold.
Good work, Libby!”
“Thank my brother,” she replied, smiling. “He remembered it”
“You would have, too, I expect, in time,” he said in a kindly tone. “Want me to have a talk with the bank president?” he added. “I think he might be more amenable to letting you and Curt back on the property with this new angle in mind. It might be to his advantage,” he added in a satisfied tone.
“You mean, if we turn out to have that much money of our own, free and clear, it would make him very uncomfortable if we put it in the Jacobsville Municipal Bank and not his?”
“Exactly.”
Her eyes blazed. “Which is exactly where we will put it, if we get it,” she added.
He chuckled. “No need to tell him that just yet.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Mr. Kemp, you have a devious mind.”
He smiled. “What else is new?”
Libby was furious at herself for not thinking of her father's impressive coin collection until now. She'd watched those coins come in the mail for years without really noticing them. But now they were important. They meant the difference between losing their home and getting it back again.
She sat on pins and needles over the weekend, until Kemp heard from the private detective the following Monday afternoon.
He buzzed Libby and told her to come into the office.
He was smiling when she got there. “We found them,” he said, chuckling when she made a whoop loud enough to bring Mabel down the hall.
“It's okay,” Libby told her coworker, “I've just had some good news for a change!”
Mabel grinned and went back to work.
Libby sat down in the chair in front of Kemp's big desk, smiling and leaning forward.
