Cowboy at the Crossroads

by Linda Warren

  Cord hurriedly slipped into his jeans and grabbed his boots and shirt from the floor. “I’ll get Nicki up and fed so you can take it easy,” he said. “Then I’ll ask Edie and Smithy to take her riding, ’cause I want to finish cleaning out Anette’s room.” He reached down and softly kissed her warm lips. “Oh,” he muttered. “If I don’t go now, I’ll never get out of here. See you later.” Another quick kiss and he was gone.

  She pushed up against the headboard and sat for a long time with her arms around her waist, just enjoying these wonderful new feelings. Cord loved her and she loved him. But she felt an uneasiness, a vaguely unsettled sensation, which she knew must be related to Anette’s death. She had to put that out of her mind. Cord had finally accepted it; that was the main thing. Today they’d clear out the rest of Anette’s things and, as Cord had said, close that door forever. After that, they’d talk about the future. Instinctively, she realized that Cord would not want her to give up her job—just as she’d never ask him to leave this ranch. She could easily commute. It would take her thirty to forty-five minutes to get to work each day, depending on traffic, but she wouldn’t mind. She’d do a lot more to be with Cord.

  A smile spread across her face, and she knew she had to talk to someone. She picked up the phone and punched in Gin’s number. It was early, but she knew Gin would be getting ready for work. Not that she planned to tell her every little thing. She just wanted to tell her best friend that she’d finally fallen in love. Madly, deeply, forever in love.

  The phone rang several times, then a sleepy voice came on the line. “Hello.”

  Becca was startled. That wasn’t Gin’s voice—but she knew it well. “Colton, is that you?”

  “Becca?” He sounded just as startled.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh—you’re…probably wondering what I’m doing here.”

  “No, I—”

  He broke in. “I…uh, Ginger’s having a problem with her car and I stopped by to help her.”

  Becca frowned. Colton was lying. He didn’t know a thing about cars and he’d be the last person Gin would call. Wouldn’t he?

  “I’m glad you could help her,” she said for lack of anything else to say. “Is Gin there?”

  “Yeah, yeah, she’s right here.”

  There was a moment of strained silence. “Hi, Bec,” Ginger said, her voice tentative.

  “Has the world stopped turning and no one told me?” she asked in a teasing manner.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You asked Stuffed Shirt for help. That has to mean something drastic.”

  “Well, stuffed shirts are good for something.” Becca heard a muffled laugh. “I’ve got to go,” Gin added quickly. “I’m running late. I’ll talk to you when you get back to Houston.”

  Becca hung up the phone with a smile. Something was definitely going on between Colton and Ginger. And they didn’t want her to know about it. Why? She was happy for them; she had to make that clear as soon as possible.

  SHE AND CORD DIDN’T GET TO Anette’s room until later in the day. Nicki clung to Becca, not wanting to do anything without her. Becca figured this had to do with her injury, and she spent the morning reassuring Nicki. They played games, read stories and laughed. She didn’t want Nicki to lose any ground. Becca knew it was time for Nicki to be in a play group, which would help prepare her for school in August.

  After lunch, she and Cord walked to the stables with Nicki and Edie. They watched her ride for a little while, then headed back to the house. Smithy promised to keep an eye on Edie and Nicki.

  They held hands and couldn’t seem to stop smiling. Blanche gave them a knowing look, as did Edie and Della—but that was fine. Everyone could see they were in love.

  In the hall Cord pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

  “Me, too,” she whispered against his lips.

  “We could go to your room,” he muttered hoarsely.

  “We could,” she agreed, “but let’s finish Anette’s room first….”

  “Good idea,” he said, moving down the hall. “I don’t want to think about this anymore after today.”

  As Becca followed, she remembered the pictures of the Prescott men. She’d never asked Colton, but she wanted to know. “Cord, why are there no portraits of Prescott women?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure. It just seems to be a tradition to hang portraits of the men.”

  “That needs to be changed,” she said in a tight voice.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Does it?”

  She poked him in the ribs. “Yes, and I’m sure Blanche and Edie would agree.”

  “Oh God, I can feel a family uprising about to start.”

  “It doesn’t seem fair to me,” she went on, ignoring him. “Prescott women have produced Prescott men, so…”

  He gave her a quick kiss. “It isn’t, but nothing in this family is done the way it should be.”

  “That needs to be changed, too.”

  He shook his head. “You’ve already changed a lot of that, and if anyone can change the portrait situation, you can, but for now, let’s concentrate on Anette’s room.”

  They worked until they had everything in boxes. Becca noticed that all of Cord’s things had already been removed from the room. Cord taped up the boxes of clothing and accessories and carried them to the garage to be taken to a charity. Anette’s purse and several small photo albums were still in a drawer, and Becca couldn’t help flipping through the albums. There were pictures of Cord, Anette and Nicki and their life together. Anette’s expression was often tense, and she was smiling in only a couple of the photos. She seemed to be constantly unhappy. Becca assumed that was a result of her depression—Anette’s obvious anxiety and inability to feel happiness.

  Cord said he didn’t want the albums, so Becca added them to the things they were saving for Nicki. She didn’t know what to do about the purse so she handed it to Cord. Dumping its contents on the bed, he pulled out the credit cards and license to destroy. The makeup and miscellaneous items he threw in the trash. Photos, he put in with the albums. He picked up an envelope and tore it open. Inside was a letter.

  Becca leaned over his arm to read.

  Stop bothering me and making those vile insinuations and remarks. I can’t take any more. If you don’t stop, I’ll tell Cord. I’m serious. You don’t frighten me. A

  “What does that mean?” she asked.

  Cord shook his head. “I have no idea and there’s no address on the envelope.” He took a long breath. “Someone was bothering her. Who? And why? God, this is so bizarre.”

  She rubbed his arm. “I know, and I guess there’s no way we’ll ever find out.”

  He tossed the letter onto the bed. “That’s what makes me so damn angry. I just want to know.”

  Becca wrapped her arms around him, wishing she could give him some answers. All she could offer was comfort. “Let’s finish up and get out of here,” she suggested.

  “Sounds good to me,” he murmured in a distant voice, staring at the letter.

  She left him with his thoughts and stepped inside the walk-in closet. At the bottom she found two handmade quilts.

  “These are so lovely,” she said, picking up one of the quilts. “Who made them?”

  “Anette,” he answered solemnly. “The doctor thought it would be good for her to have a hobby. She really enjoyed it for a while, then she just lost interest.”

  “We definitely have to keep these for Nicki,” she said, gathering up the quilts. As she stood, she noticed something that had been concealed beneath them. “What’s that?”

  It was a small metal box. Frowning, Cord took it into the bedroom. “I’m not sure. I’ve never seen it before.” He laid it gingerly on the bed.

  Still holding the quilts, Becca stood beside him and they both stared at it. “Is it locked?” she finally asked.

  Cord sat down and tried the lock, and the lid popped open. There were pap
ers inside. He took a deep breath for strength. He didn’t know what these papers were, but somehow he felt they were going to change his life. He wanted to slam the lid and throw the box away, but he couldn’t. He had to face what was in the box—for himself, his child…and Becca.

  He withdrew the first paper and unfolded it. Setting down the quilts, Becca sat next to him and read the document. “It’s your marriage license,” she said.

  “Yeah,” he murmured with relief. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as his gut was telling him. The next paper was Nicki’s birth certificate. At the bottom was a large document. Cord slowly unfolded it and as he began to read, his body started to tremble and he couldn’t stop the anger that coursed through him.

  “What is it?” Becca asked worriedly.

  “It’s Pa’s will.” The words were low and bitter.

  Becca’s first thought was to wonder what Anette was doing with Claybourne Prescott’s will; her second was to ask why Cord was so angry. His hand clenched the paper and a look she’d never seen before came over his face.

  “Cord.” She placed her hand on his arm. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “This says…” He had to swallow before he could continue. “This says the ranch was left to me and Edie. Clay and Colton were given trust funds, and Blanche a monthly allowance.”

  “Oh.” Becca suddenly understood what was wrong. “Did you never see your father’s will?”

  “Yes, but it wasn’t anything like this. Everything was left to Blanche, and his children received trust funds.” He paused, staring down at the will. “You see, Blanche Duffy and Claybourne Prescott made a deal. He would leave everything to her if she married him and gave him a son. The will was drawn up when Clay was born—and that was the will I saw. This one throws me.”

  “Oh,” she said again.

  “This is dated twenty years ago.”

  “Then it was made later than the original will,” she said. When she noticed the shock on his face, she wished she hadn’t spoken.

  He stood and started to pace. “Looks that way, but what the hell was Anette doing with it? She never mentioned a thing about Pa’s will. What does this mean?”

  She got up, too, and flung her arms around his waist, stopping him in midstride.

  “I don’t understand any of this,” he mumbled into her hair.

  “I don’t, either, but there has to be a reasonable explanation,” she told him.

  “Yeah,” he muttered, his eyes dark. “And I know exactly where to get it.” Still clutching the will, he grabbed the letter from the bed and stormed out of the room.

  “Cord,” she called, but he was gone. Becca could guess where he was going—to find Blanche.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CORD CHARGED INTO THE KITCHEN, where Della was dicing onions. “Where’s Blanche?” he asked abruptly.

  “In her room, I think.” She eyed him strangely.

  “Go outside and find Edie and tell her to come to the house. And please stay at the stables with Nicki.”

  Della put down the knife. “What’s wrong?”

  “Just do as I ask. I’m not in the mood for a lot of questions.” Cord knew his voice was hard but he couldn’t help it. Inside he was a cauldron of emotions.

  “Sure, sure,” Della said as she headed out the door.

  Cord turned and saw Becca standing in the doorway with a worried frown. His stomach churned with the love he felt for her, but it didn’t diminish the other emotions. “I have to handle this in my own way,” he told her.

  “I know,” she said. “Just try not to lose your temper.”

  He went down the hall and banged on Blanche’s door. “I want to talk to you now.” When there was no response, he banged again. “Now, Blanche.”

  He joined Becca in the den and paced as he waited for his mother. She finally arrived, dressed in a tight black dress and heels. She was obviously getting ready to go out.

  “What the hell’s the rush?” she complained, staring at her red nails.

  “You want to explain this to me?” He shoved the will in her face.

  “What is that?”

  “Pa’s will. His last will and testament,” Cord burst out. “It reads a little differently from the one we saw after his death. So I think you’d better explain—and fast.”

  Blanche’s skin took on a grayish hue. “Where did you get that?” she asked, sinking onto the sofa.

  “I found it in Anette’s room.”

  “That bitch. She said she was gonna destroy it.”

  Cord took a jerky breath and tried to maintain some control. “What was Anette doing with it in the first place?”

  “She was looking for Nicki’s birth certificate for school and came across it in my safe. I’d left the damn thing open.”

  “Why didn’t she tell me?” He couldn’t understand that. Why would Anette keep this a secret from him?

  “You’re the last person she wanted to know.”

  “What!”

  “Think, Cord,” Blanche said. “If you found out you owned half this ranch, she knew you’d never leave. Her main goal was to get you away from here. My secret was safe with the snotty little—”

  “Shut up!” Cord shouted. “So this is Pa’s last will?”

  “That’s it,” Blanche said in an impertinent tone.

  “And the will you showed us?”

  Blanche remained quiet.

  “Tell me!” he shouted again.

  “That was the will Claybourne drew up when Clay was born,” Blanche said.

  “And? Dammit, Blanche, you’d better tell me what happened because I’m losing my patience.”

  “After…after you boys were grown, Claybourne changed his mind. He went to the lawyer one day and changed everything, then told me what he had done. He said Clay and Colton weren’t interested in the ranch, and you and Edie were. He said I would always be taken care of and I didn’t have to worry. But I did. I wanted to leave him because he’d broken our deal, but I had nowhere to go and I’d never see my boys again. I…” Blanche turned away, her shoulders heaving.

  Cord gave her a minute to recover; he needed one, too.

  “I didn’t know what to do.” Blanche continued. “I knew Edie wouldn’t let me stay here. So I did the only thing I could. I used the first will.”

  Cord sucked air into his tight lungs and realized he was still holding the letter from Anette’s purse. “Explain this.”

  Blanche frowned. “I don’t know what that is.”

  “You were bothering Anette—threatening her—and she couldn’t take anymore. You pushed her over the edge.”

  “Now, wait a minute,” Blanche said indignantly. “I didn’t threaten her. She’s the one who threatened me. I don’t know what that letter means, but it has nothing to do with me.”

  Edie came in, and Becca caught her and held a finger to her lips.

  Cord glanced at his older sister and decided he could only deal with one thing at a time. “So let me get this straight. Pa left me and Edie the ranch, and you took it upon yourself to lie, to deceive us.”

  Blanche clasped her hands, twisting them nervously. “I didn’t have any choice,” she mumbled.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I gave up my life for Claybourne and all he left me was a pitiful allowance. I couldn’t live on that. I had to do something and—”

  “A pitiful allowance?” Cord interrupted harshly. “A whole family could live on what he left you. You have free room and board and the ranch pays for your Cadillac and credit cards. What else do you need money for?”

  Blanche stared at the big diamond on her hand. “It was more than that.”

  “How?”

  She looked directly into his eyes. “I haven’t been a good mother. Hell, I haven’t been a mother at all, and Edie hates me. You two would’ve kicked me out before Claybourne was ever buried. This ranch has been my home since I was a girl.” Her voice quavered on the last word.

  Cord ran both hands
through his hair. “You believed I would kick out my own mother?”

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation.

  Cord swallowed hard. “I lost track of the number of times Pa said to me, ‘When I’m gone, son, look out for your mother. Take care of your mother, son.’ Do you think I would go against anything he ever asked of me?”

  “I didn’t know,” she said weakly.

  “He cared about you, and if you’d given any of us a chance, we would have, too.”

  Blanche trembled and she seemed to have difficulty breathing. “When Claybourne and I talked about getting married, he said he’d leave everything to me if I gave him a son. Over the years, Edie has made that look as if I was a greedy bitch out to get everything Claybourne had. It was Claybourne’s idea, but in truth it was the only reason I agreed to marry him. I wanted freedom from the men and the bar, and I wanted a better way of life. Claybourne said he’d treat me like a queen. He said I wouldn’t have to lift a finger. And he kept his word. He treated me better than I’d ever been treated in my whole life and I began to care for him. It wasn’t just a bargain anymore, it was real, but I didn’t know how to tell him that.

  “When I got pregnant with Clay, I was nervous. I was still just a kid and I didn’t want to be a mother. I didn’t know anything about it. All I knew was how to tend bar. Claybourne said not to worry, he’d take care of everything. After Clay was born, he whisked me off to a spa for a month to recover and hired a nanny for the baby. He was just so grateful to have a son. He did the same thing with each child. I never had a chance to bond with my babies. I never…I never got to hold my babies.”

  Silence stretched for endless seconds and Cord had difficulty absorbing the heartfelt words. “Did you really want to?” he finally had to ask.

  Blanche met his gaze. “Yes.”

  “Then, how could you do this to me—and Edie?”

  “I was fighting to stay here,” she said quietly. “That was my only reason.”

  “Why hold it over our heads for years?”