LEGEND

by Jude Deveraux

  “Ha!”

  She ignored him. “But my life has changed in the last months, changed drastically, and it’s all because of your family. Not mine. Yours! I made a promise to a very nice woman that I would try to find her descendants, and I did that. Then she sent me a letter from her grave begging me to help her. And since she has gone to so much trouble to give me the power to help her, I’m going to try. Here’s the deal, Mr. Midas, you help me and you get the money back, every penny of it. You don’t help me and I keep it. All of it. Take it or leave it.”

  He stood there staring down at her for a while, and for a flash of a second Kady was frightened of him. But not because she feared he’d purposely harm her. No, she was frightened that the intensity of being so near those hot, dark eyes of his might consume her.

  Kady’s heart seemed to leap to her throat, and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her. But the moment passed, and he stepped back, then reached into his pocket, withdrew a set of keys, and put them on a glass-topped table. “It’s yours,” he said. “All of it is yours. I wish you the best, Miss Long.”

  With that, he walked out the door, leaving Kady alone in the expensive, cold apartment.

  After he left, it was as though all the energy left the room and her body. Collapsing onto the sofa, she sat there for a good half hour in stunned silence.

  And while she was sitting there, she started to come to her senses. Tarik Jordan had been right to be angry with her. Utterly and absolutely right. It was his family’s money, and she had no right to so much as a penny of it. Furthermore, she had no right to attempt to blackmail him. Ruth had asked Kady to help, no one else.

  She gathered her things and left the apartment.

  When she returned to her hotel, she called Mr. Fowler and told him she wanted to give everything back to C. T. Jordan, and she wanted to do it immediately! The only thing she wanted to keep was the ownership of the town of Legend, Colorado, and twenty-five thousand in cash to pay for her expenses. She had no idea what she was going to do when she got to Legend, but she’d try her best to help in some way.

  When she told the man she wanted the papers by eight the next morning, all he’d said was, “Yes.” Smiling as she hung up the phone, Kady knew there were some things she was going to miss about being rich.

  As promised, the papers arrived by messenger at eight. Minutes later, as she was reading them, there was a knock on the door of her hotel room, and when she opened it, she was faced with a young man who told her he was a process server. He then handed her a thick stack of papers. It didn’t take much reading to see that C. T. Jordan was suing her for everything he thought she had “stolen” from him.

  Right away, she called Mr. Fowler, and he told her not to worry about anything, that it would all be taken care of. Of course, he was a lawyer and lawsuits were an everyday thing to him. But not to Kady, who thought that Tarik Jordan had wasted no time in attacking her, had he? She asked Mr. Fowler how she could present the papers to the man in person.

  It seemed that Jordan owned more than one apartment in New York, and until Kady signed the papers returning ownership of everything to him, she owned both buildings.

  By the time she was dressed, Mr. Fowler had sent an escort that would help her get past building security.

  Now, days later, traveling in the Range Rover up the mountain to Legend, Kady frowned in memory. She’d gone to his apartment, yet another penthouse, put her finger on the doorbell and left it there. Several minutes later she was rewarded with his throwing open the door, his face drawn into a dark scowl.

  “What the hell is—” he began until he saw her; then his look changed to one of astonishment. “And what do you want from me today?” he asked, amused. “Space travel? Or shall we try to find out what happened to the little princes in the tower?”

  He had a remarkable ability for making Kady feel like an idiot. Looking at him, she saw that he was wearing only a bathrobe; he looked as though he hadn’t shaved in a week, and Kady was pleased to see that she had obviously awakened him. Glancing behind him, she saw that in the marble floored foyer was an eighteenth-century table, and even Kady, with her limited knowledge of antiques, could see that it was real. This apartment was quite different from the other one, and, incongruously, she wondered which apartment was the real him.

  “I wanted to return these to you,” she said, frowning up at him, refusing to succumb to the surge of attraction she felt for him. Obviously, he thought she was a crackpot.

  “And what papers are they?” he asked, but did not take them. “Come, Miss Long, you couldn’t be suing me, could you?”

  “Suing you?” she gasped. “You are the one—” She cut herself off because he was smiling again and that smile had the odd power of making her want to fling herself onto him and kick him, both at the same time.

  With her mouth made into a tight line, she glared up at him. “Do you ever give anyone a chance to explain?”

  “Not usually,” he said, eyes twinkling. “One of my tricks of business. I like pictures. Flashy video presentations.”

  Now he really was making fun of her, and the words “little cook from Ohio’ echoed in her ears. And no matter what he said or how he laughed at her, the truth was in her hands. He’d brought a lawsuit against her without so much as asking her to return the money.

  Since he was blocking the doorway so she couldn’t enter the apartment, Kady dropped the whole stack of papers regarding his lawsuit on the floor, but he didn’t so much as look down at them.

  She then held up the few sheets that Mr. Fowler and his assistants had spent the night drawing up. “If you had had the courtesy to call me, to talk to me, you would have been told that yesterday I decided to give everything back to you. No strings, no blackmail, and, especially, without asking for any help from you.”

  She held the papers aloft, but still he didn’t take them. He just stood there silently staring at her. And Kady had to give it to him, because he had a look of complete innocence on his face. She could almost believe he didn’t know what a lawsuit was. She could also almost believe that he found her nearly irresistibly attractive. But it was one thing for lonely silver miners to lust after her, but a man like C. T. Jordan, who could have any woman on earth, who could—

  “C.T., honey,” came a purring voice from behind them, and Kady looked around the man’s broad shoulders to see a woman standing there. She was tall and thin; only constant starvation could make a person that thin. She was also quite, quite beautiful in that blonde, elegant way that reeked of money. She was wearing an ivory silk bathrobe that Kady was willing to bet cost more than she made in a month. “Is everything all right?” the woman said in an educated voice that sounded as though it had been trained in boarding school.

  “Fine,” Jordan said in a tone that was almost a snap. But he still didn’t move, just stood there looking at Kady.

  The woman glided over to Tarik, her robe falling away to reveal long thin legs, and she took his arm in hers, holding it tightly to her.

  “Darling,” she purred. “Is this the little cook you told me about?”

  At that Kady gasped. It wasn’t any of her business what Tarik Jordan talked about with his mistress, but maybe it was because she’d seen him so many, many times in her life that his “betrayal” of her hurt.

  “I am glad I gave you some amusement,” she said softly, handed him the papers, then turned on her heel to push the elevator button.

  “Kady,” she thought she heard behind her, but the woman’s tones drowned out anything she thought he might have said.

  “Perhaps we can hire her,” the woman said loudly. “As an under-chef to Jean-Pierre. I’m sure he’d like some help in the . . . kitchen.” She said the last word as though it were a euphemism for “garbage scow.” Whatever else was said, Kady didn’t hear because the elevator arrived and she got into it, her back still to Tarik and his skinny lover.

  Once in the elevator, once she was out of Tarik’s mesmerizing presenc
e, Kady worked to control her anger. Now what did she do? she wondered. How in the world was she going to be able to do what Ruth asked of her and to help Legend? Was she going to have to try to find a way to go back into time? If she didn’t know how she did it in the first place, how could she repeat it and how was she going to do all of this alone?

  When she returned to her hotel room, there was a package from Mr. Fowler waiting for her. She’d told him of her plan to go to Legend, so he’d sent her a first-class plane ticket, a prepaid hotel reservation, and a letter saying there would be a car and some camping gear waiting for her upon her arrival. He also wished her luck in whatever it was she wanted to accomplish.

  The next day Kady had flown to Denver, where a sedan and driver were waiting to take her to her hotel. The hotel clerk had given her the keys to a brand-new Range Rover that was filled with beautiful state-of-the-art camping gear for her stay in the ghost town of Legend.

  “I didn’t put in any food though,” Mr. Fowler wrote, and she could almost hear him laughing. “I somehow thought you might like to buy that for yourself. And I just want to say, Miss Long, that it has done my soul good to meet someone like you. You have renewed my faith in humanity.”

  At that Kady grimaced. She wished her faith in humanity had been renewed.

  After a day in Denver, Kady had risen early and started the long trek up into the Rocky Mountains in search of what was left of Legend, Colorado. According to the brochures she could find and a book on ghost towns, it was derelict, falling down, and generally dangerous to even try to explore. Also, it was privately owned and trespassing was strictly forbidden, as all the signs around the place told any potential explorers. But since Kady now owned the town, she wasn’t trespassing.

  The road up the mountain was horrible, with ruts over a foot deep running down the middle, so Kady had to try to drive on the side, keeping the wheels on the ridges. It was difficult for her to do, especially since her experience with driving had been on city streets. And to think that she used to complain about potholes!

  Now, according to her map, she was less than three miles from Legend, but she could see nothing, and the road, if possible, seemed to be getting worse. So far, she’d seen three signs warning trespassers to keep out, that this was private property, but she hadn’t paid much attention to the warnings. After all, she now owned the place, didn’t she?

  And that thought made Kady smile in derision. Mr. Fowler had said, “Kady, you are giving up your rights to millions, and all you ask for is the deed to a worthless ghost town? You aren’t thinking of trying to mine the silver, are you?”

  Kady had smiled and shook her head. No, she wasn’t going to try anything that sensible.

  “Good,” the attorney continued, “because that was tried about thirty years ago. There was a belief that Ruthless Ruth had sealed up mines that were producing millions, so C.T.’s father reopened them. Turned out that the truth was that the mines were nearly empty of silver. I’ve often wondered if maybe Ruth’s husband and son knew that and that’s why they wouldn’t sell the land to homesteaders. They didn’t want to cheat the people, because what would they do with the land if the silver was gone?”

  “No,” Kady had said softly, “I’m not after the silver,” and she thought of all the hatred that had been caused over mines that were on the brink of being empty. If Ruth had allowed the men to continue instead of blasting the mine entrances shut, then the people of Legend wouldn’t have hated her and maybe her youngest son . . .

  Kady didn’t want to think anymore on what could have been but wasn’t. Instead, she tried to concentrate now on getting the car up the mountain and into Legend. Truthfully, she didn’t want to think about what she was going to try to do once she got there.

  Maybe it was because she was thinking so hard about the last few weeks and trying to keep her mind off Tarik Jordan’s perfidy that she didn’t see the great, deep, washed-out hole in front of her. In fact, it was almost as though it had been dug in an attempt to keep people out. One minute Kady was driving, anticipating arriving in Legend, and the next she was stuck.

  “Damn, damn, damn,” she said, pounding her fists against the steering wheel. She was about twelve miles past nowhere, and she was stuck!

  For a moment she resisted an urge to put her head on the wheel and cry; then, reluctantly, she opened the door and got out. Maybe if she looked at the wheels, she could figure out what to do to get unstuck.

  “Only if it involves a recipe for a soufflé,” she muttered; then the thought of a soufflé reminded her of C. T. Jordan and his hateful remark, so when she got out, she kicked a rock. Which of course hurt her toe, which made her hop around; then in frustration, she kicked the tires of the car and hurt her foot even more.

  Now what do I do? she thought, but didn’t have time to think about it because as she leaned over to check if her toe was broken, a shot rang out over her head. On instinct, she straightened and looked about her, only to be shot at a second time.

  For a moment she was sure that she’d already gone through the time warp and any minute she was going to see Cole, and she was going to run into his arms and he’d hold her and—but if she were back in time, she wouldn’t be staring at an automobile.

  The third shot came so close to her that it cut the sleeve of her heavy wool cardigan, and that’s when she realized that someone was shooting directly at her. Kady leaped toward the back of the car, heading for the woods on the opposite side, but then a shot came from that direction, too, and fear made her freeze. Paralyzed, she stood where she was in the middle of the road, blinking and not knowing where to run, since she was being shot at from both directions.

  It was at that moment that she heard horses’ hooves coming toward her, and still in shock, Kady looked up to see a man on a white horse thundering toward her. He had on something black, a scarf over the bottom of his face, and he was as familiar to her as her own hand.

  More shots rang out, but this time they were aimed at the man on the horse, but, ignoring them, he kept coming toward her, and when he got to Kady, he bent down, held out his hand and she took it. Due to the many times she’d ridden with Cole, she knew how to put her foot in the stirrup he had vacated and swing herself up behind him.

  When she was on the horse, she put her arms around his waist and held on with all her might as he kicked the horse forward and went galloping down the mountain. She thought that a couple of times he jumped over some things like logs and deep ruts, but she buried her face into the back of him and didn’t look.

  After a while he slowed the horse and turned it, but instead of going down the mountain, they started going up again. Kady opened her eyes long enough to see that they had left the road and were on a mountain trail, but she closed them again and put her head against the man’s back. Of course she knew who he was, and she did remember that she didn’t like him at all, but right now it felt good to be taken care of, to be rescued, to be . . . She didn’t want to think anymore, but just closed her eyes and held on.

  Her peace didn’t last long, for he soon halted the horse and dismounted. Then, with a scowling face, he held his arms up for her, and once she was on the ground, he turned on her.

  “I have never seen a woman who could cause more trouble than you!” he began. “Do you have any sense at all? If I hadn’t come along when I did, do you realize that you’d be dead by now? Dead! Ol’ Hannibal would have shot you, and no one would have found the body. Who would have looked for you? Fowler? That boyfriend of yours who wants to open hamburger joints in your name? Or did you think—”

  Why did he always have to make her feel incompetent? “Why did you come here? Were you angry that I took any of what Ruth left me? You wanted it all?”

  Moving closer, he bent, towering over her. “I came to save your neck. I knew this was going to happen. Couldn’t you see the No Trespassing signs? Or can you only read cookbooks?”

  If he made one more derogatory remark about her cooking, she was going to throw a
rock at his head. Or maybe she’d take his suggestion and throw a soufflé. Still in its thick porcelain pot. “Since I own the place, what do the signs matter to me? And who is Hannibal?”

  Tarik gave her a little smile that made her think he could read her mind. “He happens to be the man who has a ninety-nine year lease on the place, that’s who he is. Whether you own the town or not, you have no right to enter it, at least not for eighty-two more years, that is.” His smile increased until a dimple appeared in his cheek. “But then, I forgot. You pop around time like a jackrabbit going from one hole to another. So what’s eighty-some years to someone like you?”

  With a tightened mouth and fists clenched at her side, Kady turned and started walking down the mountain.

  He caught her after two steps. “Mind telling me where you’re planning to go?”

  “As far away from you as I can get. You are the most unpleasant, unreasonable, horrible man I have ever met, and I don’t even want to be in the same state with you, much less on the same mountain.”

  With his hand still on her arm, she saw that he was quite startled at her words. No doubt, between his looks and his money, he’d never before had a woman say an unkind word to him. She wondered if any of his women called him anything except Mr. Jordan.

  When he touched her, Kady tried to pull her arm away, but he wouldn’t release her.

  “You can’t leave,” he said, holding her tightly.

  “You’re hurting me,” she said, and he dropped her arm, but when she started walking again, he put himself in front of her.

  “Are you planning to hold me prisoner?”

  “If I must. You can’t wander about these mountains. I doubt if you know east from west.”

  “I managed to get myself up here, and I can get myself down.”

  “You,” he said ominously, “got a Range Rover stuck. You can’t even drive, much less walk, so I cannot allow you to—”