The Girl with the Golden Spurs

by Ann Major

“You could have asked me first, you know. You really put me on the spot in the boardroom.”

  “You offered to help in New York.”

  “And you told me to keep my distance. Doing both is going to be tricky.”

  “Okay, I—I didn’t know I was going to ask you until I did it. I’m new at this, okay?”

  “Okay. I don’t know when I’ll have time to do the tour,” he replied coldly.

  “I can wait.”

  “So, what about New York?”

  She blinked. Now it was her turn not to want to look at him or answer. “What about what?”

  “To be blunt—the sex? You’ve been mad as hell at me ever since. Like I said, I was told to keep my distance. Now we’re to be housemates and business partners?”

  “Well, I’m still not exactly happy about New York.”

  “But—”

  “I see no reason why one stupid little incident—”

  He lifted his beer mug to his lips. “The hottest sexual aberration of my life, to be more exact.”

  “Well, only because your memory is not too good at the moment.”

  He scowled. “Don’t keep throwing that up at me.”

  “Fine.” She emptied sugar packets into her tea, squeezed her lime juice into the tall glass and made a fuss of stirring. “I don’t see why one idiotic mistake made during a horrible period in my life needs to ruin our business relationship, Cole.”

  “Oh, so that’s what we have now? A business relationship?” He smiled grimly.

  “Partners.” She dinged her iced tea glass with the long spoon and set it down. “You said you’d help.”

  “And I will.”

  “And you’ll keep your distance, too…just like you promised in New York.”

  “Since we’ll be living in the same house, I assume you mean sexually?” His silver-blue eyes drilled her.

  “Hands off! That’s what I mean.”

  He leaned a fraction of an inch closer over the table. “What about lips?”

  His soft voice and his hungry glance got her edgier.

  “Don’t!”

  “Where do you stand on a little light flirtation?”

  “No.”

  “You’re not going to ask me to marry you to make this a real partnership, so people won’t question my leadership, are you?”

  “Marry you?” She regarded him warily. “Whatever gave you a crazy idea like that?”

  “Before you propose publicly, ask me in private first.” His voice was hard.

  “I would never want to marry you! I don’t want anything of that nature to do with you. Don’t you get it?”

  “Got it,” he snapped.

  “When you asked me to lunch—”

  “I didn’t ask you, darlin’. You invited yourself.”

  “Because I was trying to thank you for agreeing to help me, you big, handsome lug.”

  “Handsome. Well, finally—a compliment.”

  She pushed her chair back and picked up her purse. “I didn’t want to start a fight, so I’ll go.”

  When she started to stand up, his tanned hand closed over her wrist. “No! Stay.”

  Even after she quit struggling to pull free, his hand lingered on her wrist. She felt his thumb making warm circles on her soft skin. “I’m inviting you to lunch with me now.” His blue eyes were intense.

  Mesmerized, she sank back into her chair. “Since we’ve already ordered,” she relented.

  “When we get to the ranch, I’ll leave you the hell alone,” he said cheerily. “You can count on it.”

  “Great.” But her throat constricted. The idea of him leaving her the hell alone, as he put it, depressed the hell out of her. Oh, this whole thing between them was crazy.

  Neither of them spoke for a while, but the day itself was a sensual joy with the sunlight sparkling in the trees and glittering on the surface of the water. The air felt balmy against her skin. Couples walked by, arm in arm, laughing and talking.

  It was nice out here, having lunch with him. Almost she could imagine they were real friends, like those other couples. And as much as she hated to admit it, it was nice to be home in Texas.

  Home. Funny how being here with him felt so right in some way.

  “You sure know how to stir up a shit storm,” he said after he gobbled down a second slice of bread. “People in that meeting were furious at you.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “You were poetry in motion, darlin’. I admired the way you led them to believe you’d step down.” He snapped his fingers. “Then just like that, you pretended you’d changed your mind.”

  “I did change my mind.”

  “Be careful playing your games. These people are rich and spoiled. They’re all jealous as hell of you, too. Not to mention, there is a lot of money involved. Hard decisions have to be made. The ranch is facing big challenges. There’s no telling what some of those people might do. A lot of weird things have happened lately. One of them could be sabotaging the operation. Just be careful.”

  She remembered her father’s memo and lifted her brows.

  “What do you mean?” she whispered.

  “Lizzy, you’re playing with fire.”

  “You’re scaring me.”

  “Good.” His face darkened. “You grew up with a silver spoon in your mouth. You were Daddy’s favorite, his spoiled darling. You had it so easy—you don’t know what it’s like to really want stuff.”

  “Yes, I do.” Her voice was barely audible.

  “Listen to me, darlin’. Some people will do anything to get what they want. Anything.”

  She drew a deep, shuddering breath. “Would you?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Suddenly his dark face was guiltily closed.

  “Am I being ridiculous, Cole?”

  Anger flashed in his eyes. Maybe he would have stood up and left her then, but their waiter arrived with their food.

  Cole’s tension lessened as soon as he stabbed his mesquite-smoked quail with a fork.

  Hers did not. Barely touching her vegetable entrée, she watched him uneasily.

  How far would he go to get what he wanted?

  Thirteen

  Dr. Sanson’s office was a mess. The desk, the maroon carpet and the oak bookshelves were piled high with medical journals, prescription pads, papers, stacks of charts and giveaway pens from drug companies.

  Cole checked his calendar in his PDA to see if he’d remembered everything he was supposed to do today. Then he picked up a pen and fiddled with it. He wished he were anywhere else. But he had to know the results of his latest tests. It had been nearly ten months since the accident, and he was still having the blackouts.

  Some people will do anything to get what they want, he’d told Lizzy. Anything. His remark worried him. About himself.

  Who was he really? What was he capable of when he lost time? Detective Joe Phillips kept calling, wanting to know about his truck. He’d suffered a few lengthy blackouts. Had he been at Cherry’s? Hell if he knew.

  At the sound of approaching footsteps, he pitched the pen onto the doctor’s desk and sat up straighter.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting.” Dr. Sanson sidestepped several piles of medical journals and sat down, facing Cole across the tangle of papers on his desk.

  Dr. Sanson had to be in his sixties, yet he looked younger. He had a kindly, red face and flyaway white hair in need of a talented barber. A jumble of pens made the ink-stained pocket of his white medical jacket sag.

  Dr. Sanson opened Cole’s chart and read it before glancing at him. “You said you had some questions?”

  “The blackouts? I don’t know what I do…or who I am…when I’m not here.”

  The doctor smiled genially. Cole did not smile back.

  “Is that all?” Dr. Sanson snapped Cole’s chart shut and tossed it onto his desk. “I wouldn’t worry too much. As I explained, I’ve reviewed your most recent EEG, your CT scan of the head and MRI. I consulted with your neurologist and neuros
urgeon. Everything looks great.”

  “But I’m still having blackouts.”

  “Your plane went down in the Gulf of Mexico. It’s a miracle you’re even alive.”

  “I understand that—”

  “Do you?” The doctor leaned forward.

  “Is my condition permanent?”

  “We don’t know. I’d say it’s a good sign that these episodes are less frequent.”

  “A good sign? Is that all you can say?” Cole stood up. “Do you have any idea what it’s like find yourself somewhere, doing something, maybe having a conversation, and you don’t remember the last hour—or several hours? I’ll come to and find myself in the middle of a poker game or a sentence I don’t know how to finish. I bluff and try not to look like a total idiot. If I’m lucky, the other person will repeat himself and I can fool him. But a lot of times, I can’t. I never used to lose at poker, either.”

  “I wouldn’t play for big money then.”

  Cole didn’t laugh.

  “Look, you had a severe closed head injury. Think of your brain as being a computer. When your plane hit the water, your computer was smashed. A lot of your connections have been shaken up.”

  “But will I ever be all right again? Can’t you do something?”

  “I could prescribe another different, expensive medication, but nothing you’ve taken so far has helped. I’d say it’s mostly a matter of time.”

  “I get so frustrated not to be able to think. I have to rely on lists and my PDA to keep my life straight.”

  “Join the club.”

  “Sometimes I’ll be doing paperwork, and I’ll lose my focus.” He thought about Lizzy. He didn’t want to hurt her or put her at risk. “When will I be able to fly alone again? To drive on a highway?”

  “I repeat—give it time.”

  “Things are tough at the ranch right now. A lot’s been happening.”

  “I heard about Caesar. And I read about his stripper friend’s disappearance. Tell Joanne I’m sorry.” The doctor stood up and extended his hand. “All of you have been through a lot. Too much.”

  Lizzy’s heart was beating with excitement when she drove through the trees and saw the familiar, three-story stucco house with its tall red roof and wide wraparound verandas. As a girl, she hadn’t felt she could ever belong here. Today she felt a powerful nostalgia. She braked Gigi’s daughter’s silver sports car so fast, thick clouds of white caliche dust swirled around the little car, and the house vanished from view.

  When the white dust finally settled, she got out and looked up at the six flags of Texas flapping lazily above the long roofline. Tall, wavy grass stretched endlessly to the east and south, and an immense, cloudless blue sky loomed above her. Her gaze wandered from the huge mansion, to the glittering spurs on the Spur Tree, to the antique dinner bell. She sighed, hugged herself and let the eerie quiet wrap her in its kindly, welcoming embrace.

  No tall buildings. No freeways. No noisy traffic. Just the land and the sky and the animals and that special sensation of wildness that was always in the air here. Due to the big ranches, this part of the country was one of the last wildernesses in the United States. Until she heard the popping of several hunters’ guns in the distance, it was so quiet she could hear herself breathe.

  Unafraid, a deer and a faun, their dark velvet eyes watching her, ambled softly across the lawn to nibble timidly at the grasses under the Spur Tree. Lizzy inhaled deeply again. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized how much she missed all this—even the hunting. Finally she was home.

  The land was greener, the grass high and lush and the cattle, deer and turkeys fat. Kinky had told her the weather had been wetter than usual for more than a year. Which was wonderful.

  She stared toward the distant horizon. Normally, few places were more difficult to raise cattle for a profit than south Texas. Much of the ranchland was made up of dense, tangled brush, which had to be cleared at great expense every few years. A practice that upped the cost of maintaining acreage.

  The region was a semiarid desert, too. Droughts were so frequent, a rancher needed twenty acres to feed one cow. Ranchers—even big ranchers like the Kembles—who were lucky enough to be without debt, were still land rich and cash poor.

  She dawdled on the front lawn so long Eli came out, greeted her and unloaded her bags. With an eye out for wild critters, she headed toward the house. Not that she needed to worry all that much. Even during a drought when the grass would need more water if cut short, her father always ordered that the lawn to be sheered as close to the ground as possible near the house as a prevention against rattlesnakes. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she waited, scanning the porch again. Not that she was looking for Cole’s dark head or broad shoulders.

  I’ll leave you the hell alone. You can count on it, he’d said.

  Suddenly, Lizzy thought about Mia and instead of entering the house, turned around and headed to the Spur Tree. She was touching Mia’s spurs and wondering about Cole’s relationship with her sister when the front door opened behind her. She whirled, smiling expectantly. But it was only Sy’rai coming out to welcome her.

  “Hi.”

  Lizzy lifted her hand and waved, and Sy’rai, who had Vanilla in her plump arms, was all smiles. Wing Nut, Joanne’s black Lab, trotted from the back of the house barking.

  Despite her extra weight, Sy’rai looked much younger than a woman in her early fifties. Her gorgeous, olive skin glowed. Her big dark eyes sparkled with warmth and affection.

  Vanilla clapped, held out her hands to Lizzy and began to wriggle to get down. Wing Nut circled Lizzy, sniffing her ankles and wagging his tail.

  “Welcome home,” Sy’rai said as she descended the stairs with the baby.

  Lizzy touched Mia’s spurs one last time and then Uncle Jack’s, making them jingle. As she pulled her own spurs off the tree, she saw a new bronze marker on the ground that read, Electra Scott. There were two dates, the birth date and the death date, which was fairly recent. Lizzy wondered why neither of her parents had mentioned the new marker.

  She bit her lips and took a deep breath as she backed away from the tree and headed for the house. When she reached Sy’rai, Vanilla held out her arms again and made cute little monkey sounds that meant she wanted to go to Lizzy. So, laughing, Lizzy took her.

  “You looked like you were expecting someone else to walk out of that door,” Sy’rai said with a knowing look. “Now let me guess who that might be.”

  Lizzy kissed Vanilla’s brow. “D-Daddy. I miss him. That’s all.”

  She wasn’t about to admit, even to herself, she wouldn’t have minded seeing Cole—just for a minute or two, just to say hi. After all, he’d promised to work with her.

  Well, lucky her. He was nowhere around. She could settle in without being distracted.

  But it bothered her that he didn’t turn up when he heard she’d arrived, and she knew he’d been notified because she’d overheard Kinky talking to him on his cell at exactly 10:40 a.m. about some dumb old bulls. Kinky had said, “Yes, she got here about an hour ago. She’s fine. Just fine. Pretty as a picture and playing with Vanilla. How’d it go at Dr. Sanson’s? Okay? Great! Guess who pulled up and took her first step? Yes, she did! I swear! Our Lizzy set her spurs on the kitchen table and Vanilla was after them.”

  Just listening to Kinky talk to Cole had her heart beating suffocatingly. Once Lizzy knew Cole knew she was home, she spent the rest of the morning unpacking, settling in and playing with Vanilla—all the while half listening for the sound of his boots and the jingle of his spurs. She changed into a white lace blouse and black slacks that were becoming on her slim frame.

  When Cole didn’t appear at lunch or dinner, either, she realized he must have been very serious when he’d said he’d leave her the hell alone. His making such a point of it began to grate on Lizzy’s nerves. After all, they were business partners. Wasn’t it only natural that they confer first thing?

  After putting Vanilla to bed, L
izzy ate alone at the long polished ebony table in the dining room. Without Cole at the other end of the table, the dining room seemed huge and dark and far too quiet. Her only companions were the family portraits of her pioneer ancestors, who stared disapprovingly down at her from their golden frames.

  Suddenly she missed her dad and her mother and Mia and her brothers. Big houses weren’t meant to be lived in alone.

  She went upstairs to her room, but left her door cracked so she could hear better. The house had been built around 1930 and was like a drum. The tiniest sound on any floor carried throughout the entire building. Hours passed, and still Cole didn’t come. Finally she went to bed, still wondering where he was.

  And why had he been to see a doctor? Was he ill? Had he been injured? Could he be alone somewhere hurt? Could he have been putting a difficult horse in a trailer and been kicked in that hard head of his? Had a snake bitten him? Did he have a date?

  Do not think about him. Do not.

  An hour later she picked up the phone and dialed Sy’rai.

  “Yes,” Sy’rai said and rather smugly, Lizzy thought. “He had a doctor’s appointment, but that was early this morning. How should I know where he is now? I reckon he’ll be back when he feels like it. The sooner you turn out your lights, all the lights, the sooner that man will be home. He be scared of you. That’s what he is.”

  “Scared of me?”

  Sure enough, the minute Lizzy turned the lights out, she heard a door click softly on the ground floor and his boots falling heavily on the stairs. Dog tags jingled.

  She went to her door and stood there, holding her breath when Cole paused on her floor. Wing Nut trotted up to her door and barked. Her heart beat wildly until Cole resumed climbing the stairs. Nails scraping the oak floors, the black Lab bounded after him. When she heard Cole’s bedroom door close, she went out into the hall and clasped herself tightly, no longer feeling quite so alone in the vast house, and yet feeling suddenly restless as she thought of him upstairs in his bedroom, undressing and crawling into his bed. She returned to bed and spent the rest of the night tossing and turning.

  The next morning Lizzy had her oatmeal downstairs in the kitchen, which was made up of several rooms that took up at least half the huge ground floor. Sy’rai came out of the pantry, put both hands on her ample hips, set a plate of purple grapes on the counter and told Lizzy without her even so much as asking that Mr. Cole had already gobbled down a big plate of huevos con chili roja.