The time had come, ahead of Cassie's plan, but she wouldn't deceive the Taylors by lying. "No, my name is Cassandra…Cassie for short."
"Ahh, that's a very pretty name," Sylvia said, turning as she reached the lower level. "Cassandra. Cassandra Edwards. Cassie—" Her eyes widened as she put the two names together. "Cassie Edwards!" she exclaimed. "Little Cassie!"
Sylvia Taylor was a good six inches taller than Cassie's five foot two. In order to meet the older woman's gaze on an equal level, Cassie refrained from taking the last step.
"All grown up," she confirmed.
Sylvia frowned. "But why would you stay at the ranch when your mother's house is—?"
"Because I have a business matter to discuss with your family," Cassie broke in.
"But—" Sylvia repeated, only to stop when suspicion replaced puzzlement. "What kind of business matter?"
Cassie took the last step. "Something I hope you and your family will welcome. I'm here to tender an offer, Mrs. Taylor. But I prefer to wait until I can present it to all of you."
"Call me Sylvia," the woman murmured. "I think you should, don't you? Other guests I don't know from Adam call me Sylvia." Her gaze swept slowly over Cassie. "You've changed," she concluded.
"Yes, I have," Cassie agreed, and with an assured smile added, "Sylvia."
CHAPTER TWO
"WILL."
His mother's voice sounded odd to him. Will gave her his full attention after taking the last step from the windmill's metal frame to the ground.
"What's up?" he asked, tipping back his hat to wipe away perspiration. "I was just headin' in for a break. Finally got that part to work." The slowly turning blades bringing water gurgling up through the pipe into the fat metal cistern gave auditory proof of his success.
"That young woman," his mother said. "Our guest. She's—"
"What's she done now?" he demanded when she again broke off without finishing.
"Will…those initials: C. A. Edwards. She's Cassie. Cassie Edwards!"
His mother seemed to think the name would ring a bell with him.
"Little Cassie Edwards," she continued. "From Love. Bonnie Edwards' daughter. Surely you remember her. She was younger than you, but you had to have seen her. Her mother was always draggin' little Cassie around. I felt sorry for the girl. Dressed in those hippie clothes like her mom. She didn't look happy."
"I remember her," Will said flatly.
It had taken a minute, but he remembered her, all right. Not so much in her early years, but later, when she was starting to leave childhood behind. His most vivid recollection came from the time he'd gone into town for something late in the summer before he left for college, and he'd come up on a few of the local boys giving her a hard time outside the post office. She'd been a mousy little thing back then, all long dark hair and big dark eyes. He'd stopped what was going on and had had a word with the boys. Boys, hell, a couple of 'em were as old as he was! But he'd doubted it would do much good. She was a juicy target for bullies. Rarely looking at people, seldom saying a word. When he'd turned back, intending to offer her some sort of solace, she'd gone. It probably would have been another waste of words, though, falling hollow on her ears. Still, the way she'd looked that afternoon had stayed with him for the next few weeks. Her defenselessness, her alarm, her misery. And, for just a moment, a spark of something in her eyes that he couldn't put a name to. Shortly afterward, he'd left for A&M and gotten busy with his courses and college life. Then a few years later his dad had died in a ranch accident and he'd come back to run the Circle Bar-T. Bonnie Edwards was still around town, but he never saw the daughter. At some point later someone mentioned that she'd moved away, and he remembered silently wishing her well. Then he'd forgotten all about her, having plenty of problems of his own to deal with.
"She says she's here to make us an offer."
His mother's words jerked him back to the present. He frowned. "What kind of offer?"
She shrugged. "She says she'll tell us at dinner. She must mean supper, considering what time of day it is. She's…different, Will. And I'm not just talkin' about her losing most of her accent or referring to things the way city people do."
"What did Granddad say?"
"I haven't told him yet."
To help ease his mother's apprehension, he teased lightly, "Who knows? Maybe this'll be good news. At least that would be somethin' of a change."
Sylvia wasn't ready to be cheered. Instead, she fell back on the phrase she'd begun to use almost automatically these days. "Whatever happens, we'll be fine."
As usual, Will pretended to believe her. Then he set his hat back to the proper low angle over his forehead, bent to collect his tools, and as he straightened, said, "I think we should tell Granddad. Warn him about who she is and what she wants."
"Me, too," his mother agreed.
"He awake from his siesta yet?"
"Should be."
"Then let's go do it."
~~~~
Will heard his grandfather before he spotted him. The old man was in full form under the shade tree behind the house, his woolly white head bobbing as he hobbled around in front of his companion and gestured with his arms, telling one of his tales. Their visitor was sitting on one of the old kitchen chairs his mother used for outside work. Once Robbie Taylor had finally succumbed to the idea that the Circle Bar-T would be taking in paying guests, he had appointed himself official "ranch character." And he now had a great time playing the part for the visitors, which was good because it kept him from brooding so much about not being able to work the ranch like he used to. At the moment, though, Will could only watch the show with growing impatience. He'd wanted to get to his grandfather first, before the old man made a fool of himself in front of an ex-local, particularly an ex-local with an ulterior motive.
"'At's the way it was, I swear!" Robbie guffawed as he slapped the rolled brim of his favorite hat on his thigh. "'At ol' horse took off and prob'ly made it to Kansas City 'fore he stopped to look back!"
His grandfather, who from the way he was positioning his rangy body was about to launch into another tale, had yet to notice that Will and his mother were drawing near. But she had, and the amused smile that had been curving her lips disappeared as she stiffened slightly.
Will studied her. He could see now that she was a grown up version of the child-woman he'd last seen all those years ago. But, as his mother had said, she'd changed. She had to know that his mother had told him who she was...yet she didn't seem to care. She didn't draw away as her younger self would have done. She didn't cast her eyes away. Instead, she awaited their arrival with a quiet dignity she'd never possessed before. Definitely, a very different Cassie Edwards.
Robbie Taylor swiveled to see what she was looking at, and a wide grin creased his weathered features as he saw them. The many years of hard ranch work had gnarled the man, leaving him with arthritic hands and knees, and a spine that protested all too frequently. Yet he'd railed at having to be relieved of all but the lightest of his lifelong responsibilities. I'm an old critter, but not that old!" he'd protested. "I can still do things!" Only he couldn't, not the things he wanted, or the way he wanted. Instead, he'd found that exaggerating his infirmities added to his "ranch character" persona and amused the guests who seemed to love his humor and his stories.
Robbie quickly saw that something was wrong. "Will?" he questioned.
"Granddad, we need to go inside."
Robbie sent a weather eye to the sky. "Don't see no storm clouds gatherin'."
At Will's continuing steady look, the old man glanced uneasily toward his companion, saw that her expression matched the graveness of his grandson and Sylvia, and agreed. "Awright, I guess we'll mosey ourselves on in then. After you, ma'am." He politely extended his arm for their guest to precede them into the house, but behind her back he shot Will a look that said, what-in-heck's-goin'-on?
Will gave his head a little shake.
Robbie transferred his silent demand to
his daughter-in-law, but she only murmured, "Come on, Dad," and, tucking her arm through his, urged him toward the back screen door.
Once they were in the kitchen, Will motioned for everyone to sit at the table. The two women took chairs across from each other, while Robbie assumed his usual position at the head and Will settled himself at the foot. Both men removed their hats.
"Awright," Robbie said, shooting a determined look at each of them from beneath his bushy brows. "When's somebody gonna let me in on what's happenin'? Especially since the rest 'a ya already seem to know."
Sylvia tipped her head toward the visitor. "Dad, this is Cassie Edwards. Love's Cassie Edwards. Bonnie Edwards'—"
"Mr. Taylor," Cassie interrupted, directing her words to the older man. "I've been sent by my employer, James T. "Jimmy" Michaels of Michaels Enterprises in Houston, to make an offer—a nice offer—for the strip of land you and your brother own between the highway and the railroad track."
Once he absorbed the information, Will waited for his grandfather to explode. It didn't take long.
"But that's the Old Home Place!" Robbie burst out, shocked. "Where the first Taylors to come to Texas built their house! We ain't about to sell it! It wouldn't be right!"
Cassie didn't seem ruffled by his adamant refusal. "An extremely nice offer, Mr. Taylor," she embellished. "The contract is upstairs. If you'll excuse me, I'll bring it down."
"The Old Home Place!" Robbie repeated incredulously as their visitor's footsteps receded down the hall.
"It's out of the question." Will agreed.
Sylvia hesitated. "But…it would solve a whole mess of problems if we did sell it."
While his grandfather sputtered indignantly, Will had to admit, if only to himself, that the same thought had popped into his mind before he'd discarded it. "We can't, Mom," he stated firmly.
"'A course we can't!" Robbie railed. "It's a sacred trust! What's it been? A hundred-and-twenty…no, a hundred-and-twenty-two years since the first Taylors came here with nothin' more than a horse, a wagon, and the clothes on their backs! We can't even think of sellin' that land!"
"It's either that…or we could lose it all," Sylvia said softly.
Robbie set his jaw. "We can't do it. I won't do it."
Sylvia continued. "I know what the Home Place means to you, Dad. And to Will. It means the same to me! But if the alternative's worse—"
Robbie shook his head, denying everything she said.
Will was torn. He understood the strong emotions fueling his grandfather's stubbornness. Five generations of Taylor men and women had worked their hearts out on this land. Given it their all. And one day—a day far into the distant future, he hoped—the ranch and its heritage would pass to him to protect. Yet he was enough of a realist to recognize the truth of his mother's argument: if things didn't get better—
But things were getting better, weren't they? The three-year drought the area had been suffering from had broken late last summer, feed prices were down a little—still way too high, but somewhat lower. There was hope the spring calves would one day bring higher prices. And his mother's plan was actually starting to pay off. Not big time yet, but enough to make renovations to the bunkhouse, which gave them more space for guests...and with more guests, there'd be more profits. Then if he could get a new hunting lease worked out in time to replace the one they'd lost. And keep things going with the herd and the equipment and everything else—
There wasn't any other way. He had to support his grandfather. The Home Place was The Home Place. They'd just have to keep battling on. It's what Taylors did.
He drew a breath, about to make his thoughts known, when Cassie Edwards reentered the room.
Robbie Taylor was waiting for her. Before she could even sit down he folded his arms and stated obstinately, "Nope, we won't do it!"
She slipped into her chair. "Possibly you should read this before you make a final decision. All of you should read it and discuss it. Take your time. There's no rush." She opened the document, folded it to a specific page, and slid it to Robbie. "This is the amount Mr. Michaels is prepared to pay you. He'll pay an equal amount to your brother."
The old man's eyes widened as he saw the number, but he gave no other response before scooting the contract back to her and refolding his arms.
Will felt his mother's hand creep into his under the table. Her fingers were cool and trembling lightly. He enclosed them in his own and the trembling stopped.
"I'll leave the contract with you anyway," Cassie Edwards said. "Again, I'm in no rush. You can give me your final decision tomorrow. In the mean time, I'll be glad to answer any questions you might have." She waited, looking at each of them in turn. When no one spoke, she stood. "What time did you say dinner is, Mrs. Taylor?"
"Noontime, Cassie. You know that," Sylvia chided. "Supper is at six."
Cassie gave a half smile. "I'll be on time," she said.
As she walked past Will's chair, he caught her gaze and held it. Although there was no alarm or misery in her dark eyes, for a second he thought he saw a shadow of that illusive spark he'd been unable to put a name to in the past. And he still couldn't say what it was. Or even if it had truly been there. This afternoon had been strange all around. Maybe he was starting to imagine things.
His eyes followed her as she moved into the hall—her head up, her back straight.
Yes, she certainly was different.
~~~~
WHILE THE FAMILY contemplated the offer she'd put before them, Cassie unpacked the clothes she'd brought with her for her allotted three-day stay, hanging some in the closet, and placing the remainder in a single drawer of the chest. One of the first things Jimmy had taught her was that a positive inner confidence created its own success. So over the past few years since starting to act as his agent, she never made plans to extend a negotiation past the time she'd allotted for it. If she thought the task would take a week to accomplish, she brought a week's worth of clothes. If, as in this case, her plan called for at most a few days, she packed lightly. It was a philosophy yet to be challenged, and she doubted that it would be here. Not judging from the way Robbie Taylor's eyes had widened upon noting the amount of money on offer. The man might be stubborn, but common sense would win out in the end. The family needed the money.
It was the other half of the equation, Robbie Taylor's twin, who could present a greater challenge. At 76, Ray Taylor was still very much a man of finance, the head of his local business empire. Not only had he built Handy Grocery & Hardware store from a small shop on the corner of Main and Pecan into the thriving concern it was today, he and his family had branched out into several other small businesses in town. And though she'd been surprised to learn the significance the strip of land held for the ranch Taylors—information Jimmy's normally unerring research had failed to uncover—she doubted Ray Taylor would have the same attachment. He'd made the town his home for the majority of his life. She just had to present the offer to him in the right way. And she also had a secret weapon—Jimmy's authorization to increase the amount of money several levels in order to clinch the deal.
Cassie sank onto the edge of the bed. This was the point where, despite her positive inner confidence, despite all her preparation, an attack of nerves usually launched a thousand butterflies in her stomach. Jimmy had such faith in her; she didn't want to let him down. As if on cue, the butterflies appeared and she dealt with them as she usually did—by telling herself that they were a good omen she needed in order to keep her edge. After that, she usually did something active, like taking a walk, going out to dinner, seeing a movie.
Only here her situation was different. She'd always been on her own before, staying at a hotel or motel close to the negotiation site. She rarely met with the principals for more than a couple of hours at a time, and never was in their company nonstop. Being so intimate a part of the ranch Taylor household was an aspect she hadn't thought out. All she'd been concerned with before her arrival was that she wouldn't have
to stay in town and be prey to—
She jumped to her feet and moved restlessly about the room. She wouldn't let herself think about that right now! She would instead concentrate on her professional goals. So she'd had a rockier than usual start in this instance...she was back on track now. Tomorrow morning she'd arrange a meeting with Ray Taylor for later in the day, and after that she'd—
The image of Will Taylor as he'd watched her walk past his chair pushed all other thoughts aside. She'd felt so…exposed under his steady gaze. It was as if he could see right through her. See how difficult coming back to Love was for her. See how, as a fanciful early teen, she'd viewed him as her knight in shining armor after he'd rescued her outside the post office. Well, she amended, knight in boots, faded work shirt, and jeans. Her cheeks warmed at the recollection.
No! That was an even worse thing to think about than what she'd rejected moments before.
Cassie dug out the ebook reader she'd brought with her and tried to lose herself in her favorite author's newest release. But it didn't work.
She paced the confines of her room...but that didn't work either.
She needed more space, more freedom, and something that would completely occupy her mind.
~~~~
MOVEMENT OUTSIDE THE kitchen window caught Will's eye. Cassie was outside, walking away from the house toward the windmill. He hadn't heard her leave, she must have let herself out the front door very quietly. His eyes narrowed as he wondered what she was up to, and if it would be a good idea for him to follow her.
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