"You've already done what Star asked of you. You delivered her baby to the Tanners."
"She asked me to take the baby to Mr. Tanner. His death made that impossible."
"So you did the next best thing. You delivered the kid to his heirs. And what about your schooling?" Dixie went on, not giving Maggie time to argue. "You've worked too hard toward that nursing degree to give up on it now."
"I'm not giving it up. Once things are settled for Laura, I can pick right up where I left off."
Her expression melting to one of concern, Dixie cupped a hand on Maggie's cheek. "Oh, honey. I know you're only trying to do what's best for the baby. But if you don't cut your ties to her now, you're going to get your heart broke for sure. And, God knows, you've had it broken enough times as it is."
Gulping back tears, Maggie closed her hand over Dixie's and held it against her cheek. "I'm just giving her a chance, Dix. The same as you gave me."
Dixie pressed her lips together. "I gave you a job when you were down on your luck. Nothing more."
"You gave me a lot more than a job. You gave me back my pride, my self-confidence, the opportunity to make something of myself."
Dixie snatched her hand from beneath Maggie's. "I gave you a job," she repeated stubbornly. "Whatever else you've done with your life, you've done on your own."
"I couldn't have done anything, if you hadn't given me a break when I needed it. And that's what I want to give Laura. She deserves a decent home and a shot at a halfway normal life. With the Tanners' name and money behind her, she'll get both."
Dixie eyed Maggie, her lips pursed in annoyance. "You've already made up your mind about this, haven't you?"
"Yes."
She eyed her a moment longer, then heaved a sigh of defeat. Sliding an arm around Maggie's waist, she hauled her up hard against her side. "Then you be careful, you hear? Those Tanner men can be dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Maggie repeated in alarm.
Dixie drew her arm back to tuck the blanket beneath the baby's chin. "Not in the way you might think. But a handsome face and a smooth tongue can be as deadly a weapon as any gun."
"You don't have to worry about me," Maggie assured her. "My only interest in Ace Tanner is his ability and willingness to provide Laura with a decent home."
Dixie humphed. "For now, maybe," she conceded grudgingly. "But mark my words. Before this is over, you'll be singing a different tune. I've yet to meet the woman who didn't fall head over bloomers for a Tanner, once he took a notion to seduce her."
* * *
Ace sat reared back in his father's chair, his boots propped on the desk's oak surface, the phone held loosely at his ear, as he briefed his stepbrother Whit on the meeting he and his brothers had held the day before.
"Since the old man didn't leave a will," he finished, "we've got a hell of a mess to sort through."
"I don't know why you're telling me all this. Even if the old man had left a will, he wouldn't have named me in it."
Ace heard the bitterness in his stepbrother's voice and understood it. What Whit said was true. The old man probably wouldn't have included him in his will. Buck Tanner might've adopted Whit, but he'd never treated him as a son.
But, in Ace's mind at least, Whit was a Tanner and would inherit his share of the old man's estate, the same as Ace and his brothers would. By not leaving a will, the old man had unknowingly given Ace the opportunity to right some of the wrongs Whit had suffered at the old man's hand.
"But he didn't leave a will," Ace reminded him pointedly. "Which means that his estate will be split equally between his heirs. Since he adopted you, by law you're entitled to a full fifth."
"I don't care what the law says," Whit said stubbornly. "I want nothing that was his."
"Now, Whit," Ace began.
"No," Whit said, cutting him off. "I'll do what I can to help y'all settle the estate, but not for any personal gain."
Ace knew it would be a waste of his time to press the issue … for the moment, at least. But Whit would get his fair share of the old man's estate, as would the half-sister he'd known nothing about. Ace would see to that.
"I appreciate your offer of help," Ace told him, opting to focus on the positive portion of Whit's reply. "We can certainly use it."
"Well, you've got it, though I don't know how much help I'll be. I know next to nothing about the laws pertaining to estates."
"It isn't your legal advice we need," Ace assured him. "We've got a string of attorneys on retainer to handle that. What we need is your help here on the ranch."
"Why? The ranch hands ought to be able to handle whatever needs to be done. They've been working on the place for years."
"What ranch hands?" Ace said wryly. "The bunkhouse is empty and has been since the day I arrived."
"What?" Whit said, sounding surprised. "The hands wouldn't just up and leave because the old man died. Not when there's livestock needing tending."
"I wouldn't have thought so, either," Ace replied. "But the fact is, they're gone. You knew most of the men who worked here. Maybe you can do some checking. See if you can track them down, persuade them to come back."
"Hell, Ace. You know how cowboys are. They drift with the wind. No telling where they are by now."
"If anybody can find them, you can."
"Maybe," Whit said doubtfully. "But it's liable to take me awhile."
Ace frowned. "Unfortunately, we don't have a lot of time. God only knows where the cattle are or what condition they're in."
"Dry as it is, I'd imagine they've scattered, searching for grass and water."
"Yeah, I'd imagine so," Ace agreed. "I'm planning to ride out this afternoon and—" The chime of the doorbell had him lifting his head. "Hang on a minute, Whit," he said into the receiver. "Somebody's at the door." He clamped a hand over the mouthpiece and yelled, "Come on in! It's open!" then drew the phone back to his mouth.
"Like I was saying," he said, continuing his conversation with Whit. "I'm riding out this afternoon to see if I can locate any of the herds." He glanced up and saw Maggie hovering uncertainly in the doorway. With the car seat balanced on one hip and her shoulder weighted down by a large duffel bag, she looked more like a pack mule than a nanny … although Ace couldn't remember ever seeing a pack mule built quite like Maggie was. Still dressed in the getup she'd had on earlier, she could've easily posed as a model for one of the cowgirl pinup calendars he'd seen in Rory's store.
He hesitated a moment, debating whether he should jump up and hug her for showing up as promised or tell her he'd changed his mind about hiring her to take care of the kid. Having a good-looking woman in the house might present more problems than it solved, and Ace had enough problems to deal with at the moment.
One glance at the baby convinced him that he'd rather take his chances on another problem arising, than have to deal with the kid.
He waved Maggie in and pointed to the sofa. "Keep me posted on how many of the ranch hands you're able to locate," he said to Whit. "If you have to, promise them a bonus to get them to sign back on with the Bar-T."
"Sure thing, Ace."
"In the meantime, we're going to have to round up the herds and see what kind of shape they're in. Plan on meeting here at the ranch, say, a week from Saturday at daybreak. That'll give me a good ten days to get a handle on things around here. I'll call Ry, Woodrow and Rory and let 'em know we're gonna need their help, too."
Ace opened his mouth to say something else, but Maggie chose that moment to bend over and set the car seat on the sofa. He totally lost his train of thought as he watched the denim shorts ride up higher on the back of her thighs, accentuating the cheeks of a well-shaped butt and legs that seemed to stretch on forever. His mind dulled by the view, he said to Whit, "I'll be in touch," and broke the connection.
As he leaned to replace the receiver, Maggie straightened, moaning softly, her hands pressed low on her back. Letting the strap of the bag slide down her arm, she hunched her shoulders to her ears, t
hen turned and sank down on the sofa with a weary sigh.
Her change in position put Ace at eye level with her chest and an interesting—if miserly—peek of cleavage. Disappointed that the cropped shirt wasn't cut a little lower, he lifted his gaze higher and found her looking at him through narrowed eyes.
Since he'd been caught red-handed, Ace didn't see much point in trying to deny his guilt. He lifted his hands. "What can I say? I'm a healthy, red-blooded, all-American male."
Reaching behind her, she gave the shirt a tug, snatching the top up higher on her chest. "That's the lousiest excuse for voyeurism I've ever heard."
He shrugged. "A woman wears an outfit like that, a man is bound to look."
She gave her chin an indignant lift. "It's my uniform. All the girls at the Longhorn are required to wear them."
"Let me guess," he said, having to bite back a smile. "The Longhorn's clientele is predominantly male."
"Killeen's a military town, so the men outnumber the women just about everywhere you go. But if you're thinking the Longhorn's some kind of titty bar," she was quick to inform him, "you're wrong. Dixie serves up the best chicken fried steak in Texas and books the most popular country and western bands the area has to offer. That's what draws the men to the Longhorn. Good food and good music. Not the waitresses."
If the woman thought food held more appeal to a man than the scantily-clad women delivering it, Ace didn't see why he should be the one to tell her otherwise. Keeping his expression impassive, he leaned back in the chair and laced his fingers over his middle. "This Dixie sounds like an astute businesswoman."
"She's that and more."
"Did she give you any trouble about quitting on such short notice?"
"No, but I didn't actually quit. I asked for a leave of absence, instead. That way, once I'm done here, I'll still have a job."
He snorted a laugh. "You don't believe in burning any bridges, do you?"
She shrugged. "Can't afford to. Like I told you before, jobs are hard to come by."
Her comment brought to mind her broken-down car and the rundown neighborhood she lived in, which made him wonder about her background. He'd been so desperate to get her to agree to come to the ranch and take care of the baby, he hadn't asked anything about her personal life, an oversight he figured he should rectify before they went any further.
"Since you were able to pick up and leave so quickly, I assume you're not married."
She gave him a withering look. "A little late for an interview, isn't it, since you've already hired me for the job?"
"Just trying to get to know you a little better. What's the harm in that?"
Though he could tell she resented doing so, she complied.
"Single white female. Twenty-eight. Divorced. No hobbies. Not looking for male companionship, sexual or otherwise." She lifted a brow. "And you?"
Since she'd tossed his question right back at him, Ace responded in the same personal-column-ad manner in which she'd revealed her stats.
"Single white male. Pushing forty. Divorced. Enjoy fishing and hunting when I have the time." He waited a beat, then added with a wink, "And I'm always looking."
He wasn't sure why he'd tossed in that last bit, but considering the attitude she was sporting, he would've sworn it would've gotten a rise out of her. When she remained silent, her gaze steady on his, he cleared his throat and plowed on. "So … who wanted out of the marriage? You or your ex?"
"I guess I'd have to say he did, since he was the one who left, taking with him our only means of transportation and owing three months back rent."
Ace puckered his lips in a silent whistle. "Nice guy."
"Yeah. A real angel. Who gets the blame for yours?"
"Mutual agreement." At her doubtful look, he held up a hand. "Swear to God. Though the official decree states irreconcilable differences as grounds for the divorce."
"That's certainly original," she said dryly.
"The judge who granted the divorce didn't seem to have a problem with it."
"I doubt he would, you being a Tanner and all."
Ace stiffened at the insinuation. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
She lifted a shoulder. "From what I've heard, your family practically owns the town. I'd imagine they own the politicians, as well."
Her interference to the Tanners' power in the town hit a nerve. A sore one. "The Tanners don't own Tanner's Crossing," he informed her, to set the record straight. "Yes, we own several businesses and substantial real estate holdings here, but we do not own the town."
"Then why is it called Tanner's Crossing?"
"Because it was a Tanner who settled here first, and Tanners who built the town." Hoping to distract her from pursuing the subject further, Ace steered the conversation away from his family and back to her. "You said you were going back to work at the Longhorn, once we've located Star's family."
"If you find any."
"Everybody's got relatives."
"I don't. But even if Star does, there's no guarantee that whoever you find will want to take her baby."
Ace had thought about that possibility—and promptly discarded it, not wanting to think about what that would mean to him and his brothers. For some reason, hearing Maggie voice the possibility annoyed the hell out of him. "Are you always this pessimistic?" he asked irritably.
She lifted a shoulder. "Just thought I should point out what problems you might encounter."
Scowling, he dropped his feet to the floor and stood. "Well, don't. I've got enough trouble to deal with, without you borrowing more."
At the mention of trouble, Maggie tensed. "Trouble?" she repeated, keeping her gaze on him as he rounded the desk. "What kind of trouble?"
He picked up her duffel and turned for the door without responding. She hopped up and grabbed the car seat, hitching it on her hip as she charged after him.
"What kind of trouble?" she asked again, having to trot to keep up with his longer stride.
"None that concerns you."
She firmed her lips. "Look, Slick. If I'm going to be living with you, I think I have a right to know if you're in some kind of trouble."
"There aren't any warrants out for my arrest, if that's what you're worried about."
"And that's supposed to make me feel better?"
Heaving a sigh, he turned to face her. "It's more like problems than trouble. The old man left us with a butt-load of 'em, not the least of which is a ranch to run and no ranch hands to do the work."
"What happened to the ranch hands?"
"That's the million-dollar question."
"Your father never said anything to you about firing them or them quitting?"
"The old man and I never talked."
Her eyes rounded in amazement. "Never?"
"Never."
"Why not? I mean, he was your father. Seems like you would've at least checked up on him every now and then, especially considering his age and the fact that he lived alone."
"Buck Tanner was healthy as a horse and more than capable of taking care of himself."
"Well, he couldn't have been all that healthy," she said wryly. "He died, didn't he?"
"Of a heart attack, which I couldn't have prevented even if I'd been here."
"But you were his son," she persisted. "Didn't you worry about him at all?"
"Look. If all this is to make me feel guilty, you're wasting your breath. Not where the old man is concerned. Now if you don't mind," he said, and tipped his head toward the door on his left. "I've got things to do."
Not at all satisfied with the answers he'd given her, Maggie gave him a sour look as she passed by him. Two steps beyond the threshold, she stopped short, her eyes rounding, as she got her first look at the room he'd shown her to. It wasn't luxurious. Not by modern-day standards. But it was the most beautiful room she'd seen outside the covers of a decorating magazine.
Opposite her, a four-poster mahogany bed, covered with an heirloom-quality, hand-crocheted spread, stood betwee
n two floor-to-ceiling windows. Angled in the corner was a chaise lounge upholstered in a dusty pink velvet, an ecru chenille throw draped across its back. To her left, a porcelain pitcher and bowl rested on the marble top of a washstand. On her right, a tall linen press stretched almost to the ceiling. Beside it was an open doorway through which she could see the tip end of an old-fashioned footed tub. All the furnishings appeared to be genuine antiques, probably passed down from one generation of Tanners to the next.
And Maggie intended for Laura to be a part of the next generation of Tanners to enjoy this rich heritage.
"If you don't like this room," Ace said from behind her, "there are others."
She swung her head around, having forgotten his presence. "Oh, no," she said quickly, then slowly turned back to stare. "It's just that it's so—" She laid her palm over the dainty roses covering the cream-colored wallpaper. "Feminine," she finished, unable to think of a better word to describe the room.
He strode by her and dropped her duffel at the foot of the bed. "My stepmother's doings. And before you ask why I haven't asked her to take care of the baby, she's deceased, killed by a drunk driver years ago. As to the decorating," he went on, "she claimed she had to have one room in the house with a little fluff, since she was forced to live in an all-male household outfitted more like a hunting lodge than a home. Threatened us within an inch of our lives if we put so much as a foot inside."
Figuring a woman would have to be pretty tough to issue an ultimatum like that and expect a houseful of males to obey, Maggie crossed to the washstand and ran a hand lightly over the marble surface. Surprised at the amount of dust she gathered, she held up her hand to show Ace. "Did her warning include the housekeeper?"
He shrugged. "I figure the housekeeper left about the same time as the ranch hands. The whole place could stand a good cleaning."
She dragged her palm across the seat of her shorts. "I'll take care of it."
"Now wait a minute," he said. "I wasn't suggesting that you take on the cleaning chores. I hired you to take care of the baby. Period."
"I don't mind. Besides, it'll give me something to do while Laura naps."
Five Brothers and a Baby Page 3