AT PRECISELY ten o’clock the next morning, Arabella presented herself at the hotel desk and asked to be shown into the safe deposit box area. Her palm filmy with perspiration, she clutched the key, which she’d never used in the ten years since she’d put the papers into the safe.
A uniformed clerk appeared with the long locked box and verified with her that it was the correct number. Then he left her alone in a brightly lit cubicle. Her hands shaking, she unlocked the container and stared at the contents.
A yellowing document with old curling edges sat folded inside. The deed to Heartbreak Ranch. A rush of memories flowed through her mind. She saw herself riding horseback across sunlit fields, laughing with other ranch children. She recalled stories of the dilapidated branding shack, where Amy Duprey, her great-great-great-grandmother, had first met her husband, gruff Walker Heart. The shack was almost gone now, with wildflowers growing up around the weathered wood. But the spot still held a special aura.
How well Arabella knew the garden behind the first house the Hearts had built, the place where her great-great-grandmother Josie’s engagement party had been held—and where she’d met her future husband when he’d ridden up and apologized for ruining her luau.
The stream beyond the ranch still gurgled and eddied near colorful poppies and lupine—the very place where her great-grandmother Harmony had fallen in love with her Indian beau.
All these stories Arabella held dear and precious in her heart. In the back of her mind she’d always known that someday she’d be telling her own beautiful daughter these very tales, passing them down to yet another generation.
But now, it might never happen. If she lost tonight, she’d lose not only her career, which now seemed insignificant, but the land of her heritage, as well. Withdrawing the document, she quickly stuffed it into her purse. She was tempted to just cut and run. But she knew that Sandusky was far smarter than that. He was probably having her watched. He would know her every step. He meant to win tonight, to beat his nemesis, Evan Hennessy, and he meant for her to be the one to do it.
There was no way out.
* * *
IT WAS MIDNIGHT. The game was about to begin. Arabella stood in the doorway of the elegantly appointed private room off the regular casino, a room reserved for only the elite—those with money or those representing it.
Lily Lake was there, looking disgustingly lovely and serene. The scrap of gold spandex she called a dress molded each flat plane and lush curve of her fabulous body. At her ears and throat and wrists diamonds glittered, catching every beam and light in the room. She fingered the chips before her.
At the felt-covered table, Faroud crouched in his chair next to Lily, openly appreciating her many assets. He wore a freshly pressed tuxedo suit with a white cravat. In the shadowy corners of the room his turbaned cohorts lurked, dark-eyed and mysterious. Before him were several generous stacks of high-
dollar chips.
Arabella turned her gaze to Zach Richards, and studied him intently. Of all the gamblers at the table, he was the most dangerous—and the most highly skilled. Besides herself, of course. He sat in a negligent sprawl, as if nothing in the world bothered him, not whether he won or lost, and not whether the sky suddenly fell, crushing them all.
Only she could see the bright spark in his clear eyes that revealed the passionate man beneath. He positively seethed with excitement and urgency. Like Faroud he wore a black tuxedo, but with a collarless white dress shirt and silver stud cuff links. His dark hair was brushed back off his forehead and his jaw shaved clean. Just looking at him weakened Arabella’s knees. She could positively eat him alive, she thought wistfully. In Monte Carlo, she’d almost done so.
Monte Carlo. She couldn’t let herself remember. She had to keep her mind sharp, concentrate on the moment, not the past.
When Zach spotted her in the doorway, his eyes gleamed. He got to his feet and held out a hand. “Arabella,” he said gravely, “you look beautiful.”
She shrugged, taking care that he couldn’t see how his compliment warmed her. “Thank you, Zach.” Her white sheath was set off only by the pair of earrings Great-grandmother Harmony had passed down. They were small diamonds with little bells.
“You outshine everyone here,” he whispered. Strangely, impossibly, she almost had the feeling he was telling the truth. He seemed to have eyes only for her. She swallowed, accepting Faroud’s and Lily’s salutations, telling herself that while Zach might talk sweet to her now, he would have no compunctions about stripping her of every dollar and the deed if he could.
With a careless gesture, she tossed the small packet of papers onto the middle of the table. “You’ve all been told about this?” she asked the group.
“Somewhat unusual,” Faroud remarked. “But acceptable. My people inform me that your ranch is quite valuable, possibly worth millions.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Arabella said, frowning. She didn’t know what it was worth, but losing it tonight—when it represented a mere two hundred thousand—that would be a crime.
“I’d love to own a piece of country property,” Lily offered. “It would be wonderful to have a quiet place to retreat to occasionally. I’ve made a deal with my backer—he keeps all the money I win, I get the deed.”
“If you win,” Arabella reminded her.
“Of course.”
“I’ve made the same deal with Hennessy,” Zach said, surprising Arabella. Why would these people want a ranch, for Pete’s sake?
She’d arranged with Sandusky that if she won, she would keep Heartbreak Ranch and get her regular cut of the money. However, there was always the danger that she would lose the money and the ranch. God forbid.
“I could learn to ride a horse there, couldn’t I, darling?” Lily asked Arabella. “I’d want a stallion, I think. A large black one. It would be delicious—straddling such a magnificent stud.”
Faroud’s dark eyes widened and he leaned closer to Lily. Arabella rolled her eyes. So, Lily was starting in on him already. Faroud didn’t know it yet, but he’d already lost the game.
“I could do other countrified things.” She waved her elegant fingers. “Like feed chickens, I suppose. You do have animals there, don’t you?”
An unwilling smile briefly touched Arabella’s mouth at the vision of Lily Lake, wearing spike heels and ermine, tossing corncobs to clucking hens.
“Absolutely,” she replied. “Pigs, too. You’d be right in your element.” Out of the corner of her eye, Arabella saw Zach bite back a smile. Clearing her throat, she sat up straight in her chair and concentrated on assuming her best poker face.
“If you’re all ready, we can begin.”
* * *
OUTSIDE, IT WAS almost dawn, but time was irrelevant in the false glitter of the casino lights of Las Vegas. Too exhausted and shattered to manage the walk to the bank of elevators, Arabella dragged herself into the hotel café and ordered coffee.
“Leave the pot,” she ordered the waitress brusquely, then quickly added, “please.”
At five in the morning, anyone in her right mind would be asleep, or headed there, but she doubted she would ever know peaceful slumber again.
She’d blown it, big-time.
The first sip of steaming coffee burned her lip. The pain was welcome; she deserved it. But it couldn’t compare to the hurt and loss caused by what had transpired that night. Losing Heartbreak Ranch was like losing her mother and father all over again. Now, even the tangible proof that they had once laughed, loved or even existed together was all gone.
She’d lost big, all right.
If there was one consolation, it was that Lily Lake hadn’t gotten her hands on the ranch. But it was still a hard pill to swallow, knowing that Zach Richards had been the one to take it all away.
Sandusky had been violently unhappy. She would never be able to gamble for him again—but he’d said he would not have her killed. There was that, at least, she thought morosely. She’d live.
Bel
la Duprey must be rolling over in her grave, Arabella thought as she slumped over the small table. Bella would probably haunt her for the rest of her life—rattling chains and howling her rage. The truly ironic thing was, Arabella couldn’t blame her.
“Share a cup?”
“No,” she said.
Zach ignored her scowl and slipped into the seat across from her. He even had the audacity to look as elegantly charming and sophisticated, as perfectly pressed and composed as he had when he’d first sat down at the poker table hours ago.
Before Arabella could protest, the waitress set down another mug on the table in front of Zach. He poured himself a full serving and stirred four packets of sugar and at least two ounces of cream into the steaming liquid.
“The fat and cholesterol will kill you.” Her tone was frigid, even if her voice wavered. It was the best she could do.
“Don’t sound so happy about it.” He leaned back and hooked one arm over the back of his chair.
“Why don’t you go celebrate with Lily?”
He ignored her question. “Feel like talking about it?” He watched her as if he were just waiting for her to break—as if he wanted to witness her final humiliation.
“Shut up,” she mumbled into her cup. “And get lost.”
“I’ve got something to tell you, Bell.”
“I knew you were here to lord it over me,” she whispered. Somehow, someway, she had to find the strength to stand up and leave him sitting there gloating.
“The most incredible thing happened at that table.” He actually had the nerve to shake his head and laugh, even though she had lost the ranch. He was killing her slowly, but she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break down.
“Yeah.” She tilted her chin and looked him square in the eyes. “Incredible. You won.”
“I cheated.”
She stared at him. “You what?”
“You heard me. I cheated. I swindled you. You and the others were bilked. Chiseled. Duped.” He took a big gulp from his steaming brew. “That about sums it up.”
“You? I don’t believe it.” She sat back, stunned. “You have a sterling reputation for high principles. You’re so good you don’t need to cheat.” It was unbelievable to think that he could hate her this much.
“I still don’t understand how it happened, but I had a little help.” He appeared thoughtfully confused, but was still smiling.
Then a niggling idea surfaced. Something Bella’s ghost had said to her. Arabella searched his eyes. “It was Sam Heart, wasn’t it?”
Zach frowned and slowly nodded. “That’s what he called himself. He was behind me, telling me what cards all of you were holding. How could you possibly know? Did you see him, too?”
She shook her head. “No. I never saw Sam, but I know of him. Let’s just say you’ve been used, Zach. That ghost used you to get to me and one of my ancestors. He was after revenge.”
It was too late to act on the information...as if anyone would believe her. There was no way she could go back to Lily and Faroud or their sponsors and tell them Zach beat them all with the help of a vindictive specter.
“I don’t get it,” he said.
“That was no hallucination at your shoulder telling you which cards to play last night. A man named Sam Heart came back from the dead and he used the situation to settle a real old score. Now you’ve got my ranch.”
“That’s right. I’ve got your ranch.” He was actually grinning now.
Her heart went numb. Her eyes stung again. She knew she couldn’t hold back much longer. Her throat hurt, her breath was shallow and painful, and her chest felt as if a great weight was crushing it. She didn’t trust herself, couldn’t bear to have Zach witness the onslaught of tears that she couldn’t contain any longer.
She had to get out of the coffee shop and back to the safety of her apartment before she disgraced herself.
Zach was actually proud of the fact that he’d won. He had not only cheated her out of her ranch, but flaunted it in her face.
Dear Lord, had she hurt him so badly that he was happy about taking the only thing she had left? It was difficult, mustering enough control to put the question to him, but she had to ask.
“Do you hate me that much, Zach?”
If she hadn’t known better, she would almost have thought he looked startled. “Hate you? Of course not. I—”
She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I need some rest. I’d like to go...home.” She shuddered as she held back a sob. “That is, I’d like to go back to the ranch, with your permission, of course. There are a few personal items I’d like to keep....”
He regarded her carefully, as if afraid that any word or move on his part might set her off. Speaking softly, in the controlled, refined tones she had come to know so well, Zach said, “Legally, the ranch won’t be mine for at least thirty days. Take all the time you need.”
Her throat working, she swallowed, unable to say a word. She dragged herself to her feet.
“Bell—”
She couldn’t bear to hear the name he’d whispered in her ear during the most achingly beautiful moments she had ever experienced.
“Don’t ever call me Bell again.”
CHAPTER FOUR
BACK IN HER PENTHOUSE, Arabella cried until there were no tears left. Finally, she decided it was time to do as the ghost, hallucination, dream—whatever it was that had appeared to her—had suggested. She would return to Heartbreak Ranch. She had been running long enough.
The thought of returning after all these years filled her with conflicting emotions. She was scared and eager, both at once. How would she react to the sights and smells of her childhood? How would she feel, to see the place the barn fire had roared through, taking everything dear to her? Could she face Walt or walk the land again knowing it would be the last time? She didn’t know, but she was determined to find out.
After unearthing several large suitcases, she threw them on the bed, yanked open drawers and jammed clothing inside. From her closet, she grabbed sequined dresses and crammed them into garment bags, then overfilled everything with her huge assortment of shoes. Strappy sandals, glittery mules, leather pumps, everything went in.
Since the penthouse had come furnished, all she
really had collected over the years were clothes, which made packing easy. In the bathroom she swept her toilet articles into a small case. A toothbrush skittered off the marble countertop and flew across the floor. She left it there. With what little money she had left, she’d pay the cleaning crew to take care of everything.
She was going home.
Placing a quick call to Walt, she told him to expect her later in the day and hung up.
When the bellman came in for her bags, Arabella took a last look around the residence she’d kept for ten years. It wasn’t much of a place, she decided. There were no lovely hills to look at, no fresh outdoor scents, no comforting animal noises. There was nothing alive here, not even a damn houseplant. She wouldn’t miss it.
She had the bellman wrap the painting in blankets and wheel it out on his cart to her old sedan. Hard on his heels, she admonished him during the entire elevator ride downstairs to take care not to bump the frame or damage the canvas. She wasn’t satisfied until he set it carefully in the back of her car.
At the desk she made the necessary arrangements, shocking the clerk, a longtime acquaintance. “You’re moving out?” he asked.
“Yep. I’m outta here. I’m a country girl, you know.”
He blinked at her. “A country girl?” He’d never seen her in anything but fashionable clothing and heels.
“The big city’s not for me,” she said. “It just took me a while to figure it out.”
The drive from Las Vegas took five hours. When she finally negotiated the winding road that led to the arching sign above the ranch gates, Old Walt was waiting for her. He stood beside a rangy roan gelding, holding the reins in his gnarled hands.
She stopped
the car, got out stiff from the long drive and approached him. He held out his arms. Gratefully, she ran into his welcoming embrace. Walt smelled of cigar smoke and horse.
“Arabella,” he said gruffly, smiling his gap-toothed grin, “I never thought I’d see the day. It’s about time you came back. Hope it’s for good.”
“We have to talk about that,” she evaded. “I’m scared, Walt. Walk with me.”
Together they started for the corrals, where Walt would put up his horse. Spring rain had greened the hills, and the cattle were fat in the rich grazing pastures. Outbuildings of bunkhouses and branding sheds were spread about the area, but the big house and new barn couldn’t be seen from this part of the road. A lizard scurried on the dirt before them, legs churning.
Walt ambled slowly beside her, leading the gelding, letting her take her time.
“I’ve decided I do want to stay in the area,” she began the difficult admission. “That’s the good news.”
“And the bad?”
“There’s no way to tell you this but to come out and say it. I, er...lost ownership of the ranch to another gambler.”
His face twisted. “Poker?”
After a moment she nodded, then lowered her head. “I got myself into a bad situation. I— It was the biggest mistake of my life. I’m sorry, Walt. I’m so very sorry.” She prayed Zach would keep Walt and the other employees on after he assumed ownership.
She expected recriminations, but Walt said nothing for a while, and they rounded a small curve in the road. She realized she was terrified. Slowly, the grand old ranch house was revealed. A two-story structure, the house featured tall stately pillars and a wraparound veranda. Roses twined about the banister railing in bright hues of coral, yellow and ruby. The porch was broad and welcoming. Burned into the front door was the mark of the ranch, a deeply branded broken heart.
Arabella sighed in relief. Instead of the terrible memories she expected, a wonderful sense of homecoming infused her. As they approached, she saw that the white paint was peeling and weeds fought with the roses for the rich soil. Some of the nearby corral fences were rickety and needed posts replaced, but this slight evidence of disrepair didn’t bother her. The place could be returned to its former glory with just a little money.
Heartbreak Ranch: Amy's StoryJosie's StoryHarmony's StoryArabella's Story Page 25