Cowboy at the Crossroads

by Linda Warren

  Becca got to her feet. “Now, I expect you to be home in time to have supper with your daughter tomorrow. I’m going upstairs to speak with Edie, and I’ll talk to Blanche when she gets in.”

  “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Becca, don’t expect too much.”

  “Oh, I do, Cordell Prescott,” she said mischievously. “And you’d better remember that.”

  As he watched her leave the room, he had a feeling that hell was about to freeze over.

  BECCA KNOCKED on Edie’s door. There was no answer, so she knocked again. Suddenly the door swung open. Edie stood there in a blue cotton robe, her gray hair frizzed as if she’d been sleeping.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “I was catnapping.” She waved off Becca’s apology and tried to tame her hair.

  “I just wanted to talk to you for a second.”

  “Okay,” Edie said, and Becca followed her into the suite. There was a bedroom area, a sitting room that held a tiny refrigerator and microwave, and a small alcove complete with a computer and electronic sound equipment. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covered one wall.

  No wonder Edie stayed in her room; this was her own little world away from her stepmother.

  “I wanted to talk about Nicki.”

  “She’s doing so well,” Edie said. “I don’t hear the crying or screaming anymore.”

  “Yes, she is, and I’d like that progress to continue.”

  “Of course, and if I can help I will.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, because Nicki needs to feel her family’s love. And I was hoping you’d join us for supper tomorrow night.”

  Edie’s calm face became hard. “Will the harlot be there?”

  “If you mean Blanche, yes, I hope so. I’m asking her, too.”

  “Then, I won’t be there. I’m happy having dinner in my room. I can’t breathe the same air as that woman.”

  “Not even for Nicki?”

  Edie remained silent, and Becca knew this was going to be as hard as Cord had predicted. Time to bring out the guilt.

  “You love Nicki. I know you do.”

  “Yes, she’s like a ray of sunshine, even though her mother was…” Edie shook her head as if to clear it. “But that has nothing to do with Blanche. She destroyed my life and she destroyed Pa’s.”

  “How did she destroy your pa’s? She gave him the sons he wanted.”

  Edie paled, and Becca knew she was hitting close to home. “And you love those sons. Actually, you raised them, didn’t you?” Becca was basing this on what Colton had told her.

  “The nanny was incompetent! I was the one who got up with them in the middle of the night. I was the one who rocked them when they were sick. I was always here for them. Their mother wasn’t.”

  “So she gave you a great gift.”

  Edie’s face became rigid. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about Clay, Cord and Colton. She practically gave them to you.”

  “Because she didn’t want them.”

  “But Mr. Prescott did.”

  Edie’s skin turned almost white. “Pa always wanted sons and he let that harlot talk him into—”

  “Come on, Edie, even you have to admit she probably didn’t have to do much talking.”

  “No, men that age aren’t too discriminating.”

  Becca wanted to laugh but didn’t. She was just glad Edie had a sense of humor.

  “Edie, it’s time to let go of the resentment and hatred.”

  “She’s a vile woman.”

  Becca had to admit that Blanche wasn’t on her list of favorite people, either, but there had to be a way to pull this family together. “Bottom line, Edie, I was hoping you’d do what’s best for Nicki.”

  There was no answer, so Becca pushed further. “And by staying in your room, you’re letting Blanche win.”

  That got a reaction. “I will never let her win!”

  “Then, you’ll be there for dinner?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Becca had to get one thing clear. “I don’t want this to turn into a scene, especially in front of Nicki.”

  Edie straightened to her full height. “I will behave like a lady, but a harlot is a harlot, no matter how much money is lavished on her.”

  “Okay,” Becca said slowly, thinking maybe she should’ve left well enough alone. “Tomorrow at six, and thanks. I know you’ll make this a wonderful evening for Nicki.”

  Yeah right, she thought as she left. A barroom brawl was more likely. Two women with strong points of view and neither willing to give in. This could turn out to be awful. Why had she started it? For Nicki. And she’d see it through. Now she had to talk to Blanche, which was going to be as much fun as stepping on a rattlesnake.

  FROM HER ROOM, Becca had a view of the garages, and when she saw a flash of headlights she knew Blanche was home. After ten minutes, she went downstairs.

  Becca tapped on her door. “Blanche, it’s Becca.”

  “Come in,” Blanche called.

  Becca entered the room and stopped in her tracks. Blanche stood in front of a full-length mirror preening without a stitch of clothing on. And she made no move to cover herself.

  “What do you want, sugar?”

  “I…uh…I…” She was at a loss for words.

  “What’s the matter? Haven’t you ever seen a naked woman before?”

  “Plenty, but never one without any modesty.” Becca replied shortly.

  “Come on, Becca, you’re a doctor,” Blanche said, admiring herself in the mirror. “Have you ever seen a woman my age with a body like this?”

  Becca shut the door and walked closer. She found it a little bizarre to be studying Blanche’s naked form, but Blanche didn’t mind. That was obvious. Her butt was too tight—butt tuck. Her stomach flat—tummy tuck. And her breasts were too pert for a woman of sixtyplus. Blanche had had a lot of work done.

  “No, I haven’t,” she answered. “Not without plastic surgery.”

  Blanche swung to face her. “How dare you,” she spat, and quickly reached for her black silk robe.

  “As you said, Blanche, I’m a doctor. I can tell.”

  “You can’t tell a thing. What do you want, anyway?”

  “I want to talk about family unity.”

  “What the hell is that and what business is it of yours?”

  “It’s about Nicki and the fact that she needs a loving family around her.”

  “Cord’s very loving, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, and this doesn’t concern me. Cord’s told me that many times.” Blanche sat at her dressing table and began to remove her makeup.

  “Don’t you want to be involved in your granddaughter’s life?”

  Blanche met her eyes in the mirror. “Sugar, I’m not the motherly type, nor am I interested in being a grandmother.”

  Becca could only stare at her. Didn’t this woman have any feelings at all? Or was she an expert at masking them?

  Blanche didn’t miss her disapproving expression. “Is that too cold for you?”

  “I just find your attitude hard to understand.”

  “Let me tell you something, sugar. I grew up fast and hard. My mother ran a beer joint on the outskirts of Houston and we lived above it. I never knew who my father was. I don’t think my mother did, either. There were so many ‘uncles’ and ‘special friends’ that I lost track. I guess I was about twelve when men started hitting on me. You know what my mother told me?”

  Becca shook her head, afraid to even hazard a guess because she had a feeling the answer would taint everything she believed about youth and innocence.

  “She said to enjoy it, but to make damn sure I got everything I could out of the man.”

  Becca tried to keep the shock from her face, but knew she’d failed. Gin’s mother worked in a bar and was on husband number five, but she loved Gin and would never suggest she do such a thing. She’d protect
ed Gin from that kind of behavior. Of course, Gin and her mom had problems, but nothing like this.

  “So you see, I grew up with what you might call a different kind of love. I don’t know the kind of love you’re talking about. The only time I came close was with Claybourne. He used to come into the bar, and I could see the way he’d watch me. He never tried anything like the other men. We talked a lot. He told me that when I turned eighteen he was going to marry me. I laughed and said I’d be waiting. He kept his word. The day I had my eighteenth birthday, he came back and I left with him. I haven’t seen the bar or my mother since. I’ve never regretted marrying Claybourne. He was my ticket out and he knew it. We were always honest with each other. He wanted a son. I wanted freedom. I didn’t want to be a mother, but I had the boys for Claybourne. Doesn’t mean I don’t care about them. Just means I look at life a little differently than other people.”

  Becca hadn’t dreamed she’d get such a glimpse into Blanche’s life. She felt great sympathy for that young girl who had never known true love or happiness. But Becca was well aware that her sympathy was wasted on Blanche.

  “If you care about Cord, then you must care for Nicki.”

  Blanche turned to face her. “What are you getting at?”

  “Nicki’s improved so much, and I think a show of unity from the family would benefit her. All I’m asking is for her grandmother and her aunt to have dinner with her a couple of times a week.”

  “You want me to sit down to a cozy family dinner with the witch of Triple Creek?”

  “With Edie, yes.”

  “Forget it, sugar. She hates my guts and I despise the pompous twit.”

  Trying to play on Blanche’s heartstrings was futile, since they didn’t seem to exist; Blanche required a different strategy. Becca noticed the mirror and immediately knew how to reach her.

  “Does Cord know about your many nips and tucks?” She was guessing he didn’t.

  “It’s none of his business.”

  “Good, then you won’t mind if I mention it to him—and Edie.”

  Blanche stood and tightened the belt on her robe. “Are you trying to blackmail me?”

  “Oh, blackmail is such an offensive word. I care to think of it as gentle persuasion.”

  Blanche’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with, sugar.”

  “Oh, but I do,” Becca assured her. “I’m dealing with a woman who’s struggled all her life to survive in a world that hasn’t been kind to her. She’s tough, crude and unbelievably hard-hearted, but underneath I’m hoping she has a tiny glimmer of concern for her granddaughter.”

  Blanche’s eyes didn’t waver. “Your hope is in vain.”

  Becca didn’t back down, even though her knees were beginning to feel weak. “Okay,” she said. “At least we know where we stand.” She moved toward the door and turned back. “Let’s see, that’s a tummy tuck, a butt lift, breast enhancement and—oh, the face. You’ve had so much done to the face, I hardly knew where to start. I’m just trying to get this straight. I’m sure Edie will want all the details.”

  “I don’t care what that bitch thinks.”

  “Fine,” Becca said, and continued to the door. She would’ve sworn that Blanche would do anything to keep Edie from finding out her secret. Maybe she’d been—

  “You little bitch.”

  Becca looked back. “Are you talking to me?”

  “You got spunk. I admire that,” Blanche said, watching her closely.

  “Then, we’ll expect you tomorrow night at six. Cord and Nicki will be pleased.”

  Blanche walked over to her. “Don’t let this little victory go to your head, sugar. I’m still keeping an eye on you. Cord’s not too wise when it comes to women. He doesn’t need another city girl in his life. The last one almost destroyed him.”

  “You mentioned Anette before. What do you know about her death?”

  Blanche took a step closer. “She drank herself into oblivion because she was a weak simpering idiot. Now, get your ass out of my room before I really get upset.”

  Becca left. She’d pushed enough buttons for one night. But a series of questions followed her to her room. Why was Blanche so bitter about Anette? Was something going on that Cord didn’t know about? Blanche had said she’d do anything to protect her sons. How far would she go to accomplish that?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CORD HAD BREAKFAST with Becca and Nicki before he left to take care of his business. Becca worked with Della to plan a special meal for the evening; Della clearly thought she was out of her mind. And maybe she was. She just wanted this family to feel some sort of togetherness instead of the constant tension that seemed to permeate the place.

  She and Nicki picked flowers from the backyard for the table and then arranged them in a crystal vase. Nicki wasn’t as excited as Becca had thought she’d be. She didn’t seem to be looking forward to the evening so much as resigned to it, which Becca didn’t understand. Maybe she’d been hoping for too much. She couldn’t help remembering the occasions when she and Rose would prepare a special table for Emily. She was always so excited at the prospect of seeing Emily. But then, there was a simple difference between their family and the Prescotts. Love. That was what had gotten them through the difficult times.

  Nicki didn’t have anything that even resembled a loving relationship with Blanche. She’d probably witnessed more arguments than a five-year-old should. Becca prayed everyone would be on their best behavior tonight.

  That afternoon she read to Nicki on the patio. The fresh air was intoxicating, and Nicki fell asleep in her arms. Becca stared at the inscription in the book. The woman who’d written those words loved her child. That was very clear. Then, why would she kill herself and leave that child behind? What had driven her over the edge? Depression—or something else? She shook her head. She had to stop thinking about Anette.

  CORD’S DAY WASN’T GOING WELL. He’d planned to pay his feed bills and make sure he had enough corn and milo to last for the month. There were several farmers who supplied him. He just wanted to arrange for the trucks to be at his ranch on specific days to dump the grain. But all the farmers wanted to talk, and then he had to have coffee with them. It was after five by the time he headed back to the ranch. Becca was going to be annoyed with him.

  He could remember when he’d had those same feelings about Anette. But this was different. Anette had started laying down rules and schedules she expected him to follow, even though she knew he had ranching commitments; that had made him angry. With Becca, he felt an eagerness to see her again. He shouldn’t, but he did. He tried to recall Anette’s face. It wasn’t there anymore. Everything about Anette was receding in his mind—except her death. That was vivid and clear. So were the emotions that went with it. Conflicting thoughts and feelings ran through his mind.

  It was 5:45 when he walked into the kitchen. Becca strolled in from the dining room with Nicki trailing behind her. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. She wore a brown knit top and brown print skirt that flowed around her ankles. She looked gorgeous, and he couldn’t stop staring at her.

  “Hi, you’re home,” she said with a smile. No anger, no threats, no hurt feelings. Oh, he liked this. A woman who understood.

  “Daddy!” Nicki shouted, and ran into his arms.

  He noticed the dress and socks and shoes. Her hair wasn’t in pigtails or a ponytail. It was hanging around her shoulders in bouncing curls.

  “How’s my baby?” He kissed her cheek.

  “Fine.” Nicki hugged his neck, then looked at him with wide eyes. “You should see what we did.” She wriggled out of his arms and raced into the dining room. “Come on, Daddy.”

  It was so good to see his child like this again—full of excitement and life. He glanced at the woman who’d made it happen and his heart swelled with so many emotions that he had a hard time figuring out which were real and which were a result of his gratitude.

  “Daddy, Daddy,”
Nicki called, diverting his attention. He made his way into the dining room, Becca walking right behind him.

  Della was arranging chafing dishes on the sideboard and she wore a dress. Cord was disconcerted for a second. Della never wore dresses except to church. She noticed his startled expression.

  “I don’t know how Becca did it, but she talked Gus and me into having dinner with you.” She moved past Cord.

  “I think I’m in the twilight zone.”

  Before Cord could assimilate this, Nicki shouted, “Look, Daddy, look.”

  He swung his gaze to the table, where Nicki was pointing. It was fully set with linen, flowers and candelabras he hadn’t seen in years. They used to be on the table at special functions when his dad was alive.

  “Becca and me picked the flowers and fixed ’em,” Nicki was saying. “Aren’t they pretty?”

  “Very pretty,” Cord murmured, but he wasn’t looking at the flowers. He was looking at Becca.

  “And we put the ca…ca…I don’t know what they’re called, but they hold the candles. Della said they belonged to somebody, but I forget.”

  “Your great-grandparents.”

  “Oh, I don’t know them.”

  “No, baby, they—” He didn’t want to tell her they’d died. He didn’t want her to think about Anette. “They lived here a long time ago.”

  “Oh, I’m glad they left the ca—”

  “Candelabra,” Becca whispered in her ear, glad that Nicki was now taking an interest in the dinner. Once they’d started putting things together, Nicki’s excitement had grown.

  “Yeah, candel-la-bra,” Nicki said slowly. “Becca and me put ’em on the table.”

  Becca and me. Cord heard that a hundred times a day and he didn’t think he’d ever grow tired of it. He glanced at the woman in question. “I’m going upstairs to get cleaned up. Five minutes is all I need.”

  “It’s okay, Cord,” she assured him, evidently hearing the anxiety in his voice.

  Was she for real? Why wasn’t she berating him for being late? Anette would have.