No Quarter Asked

by Janet Dailey

  We'll be reachin' the pasture in the hour,' said Hank. 'The Boss told Jim this morning that as soon as we got to the summer pasture you were to go back to the ranch house.'

  'Why? Did he say?' Stacy asked, dreading the prospect of meeting Cord Harris again.

  'Nope. One of the hands will be there with a pick-up and you'll ride back with him. And the Boss wants you to go to his office as soon as you get there,' Hank replied, the same searching look in his eyes. 'You had another go-round with the Boss last night, didn't ya'?'

  Stacy started to deny it, but knew she couldn't fool the sharp-eyed cowhand and nodded affirmatively.

  'You two do rub each other's fur the wrong way,' he smiled with a shake of his head. 'Jim said the Boss come up on you two last night.'

  'I suppose he jumped all over Jim this morning?' Stacy remarked bitterly.

  'Jim figured he would, but he didn't say a word 'about it, in fact he even put Jim in charge of one of the brandin' crews,' the veteran smiled, watching Stacy's face closely for her reaction.

  'He did?' The amazement was written on her face. 'Probably his way of apologizing,' she reasoned to herself.

  'I imagine you're thinkin' me to be an ole gossip, but are you sweet on Jim or somethin'?'

  'No,' said Stacy, a hint of a smile appearing on her face. 'We're friends. He knew my father, or met him at a lecture.'

  'Good,' the old cowboy grinned with a satisfied gleam in his eyes.

  'Good. Why?' Curious at his unusual remark.

  'Ain't his type. You need somebody stronger to hold you in check. Fire and fire always makes a bigger flame.'

  'I didn't know you mixed matchmaking with philosophy, Hank,' she laughed. 'Tell me, do you have someone in mind?'

  'I do, but I ain't tellin'. You'll know soon enough/ Hank answered mysteriously. Kicking his horse, he added over the din, 'Better get back to work.'

  Laughing, Stacy joined him, the gloom of the morning fading in the wake of the sagacious cowboy. When the last steer had been chased through, Hank motioned towards a waiting pick-up, indicating that that was the one Stacy would be taking back to the ranch house.

  She rode over to the remuda trailer and dismounted. Dodging the milling horses and riders, she made her way to the truck. The driver opened the door for her and motioned her inside. Stacy exchanged a few pleasantries with him, but the growing anticipation of meeting Cord after last night's episode gradually silenced her. Her imagination had all sorts of reasons for his wanting to talk with her. If she was lucky he might want to put an end to the bargain they had made.

  Driving into the yard, Stacy noticed an unfamiliar gold-coloured Cadillac parked in front of the hacienda. Even though she wasn't familiar with all the vehicles of the surrounding neighbours, she was sure she had never seen any car like that before. A curious sense of foreboding filled her as the pick-up pulled up beside the house gates to let her out.

  Tired and filled with dread, Stacy walked with her bedroll and hat in one hand and suede jacket in the other. As she opened the door she wished she had a chance to clean up and change before meeting the formidable Cord Harris, but knew that he expected her as soon as she arrived. Resentment flared briefly within her, as she recognized that he wanted her at a disadvantage. How could she appear cool and in control if she looked like a dirty urchin?

  Stepping inside the cool interior of the entry way, she became aware of voices in the den. Uncertainly she stopped before the closed door and tried to recognize them, but the thick oak door muffled the sounds. 'Maybe he's busy and doesn't want to see me now,' she thought. No, she might as well get it over with. Resigned, she placed the items in her hands on the bench outside the room, gave a few brisk brushes at the dust on her jeans and blouse, smoothed her long hair back to where it was caught at the neck, squared her shoulders, and knocked at the door.

  'Come in,' came the muffled reply.

  With more confidence than she felt, Stacy opened the heavy door and walked into the room. Cord stood directly in front of her beside his desk. There was a nonchalance and ease in his carriage that intensified her nervousness.

  'Come on in, Miss Adams,' Cord instructed with a slightly imperious wave of his hand. His mocking eyes flicked over her dishevelled appearance and he added, 'I see you've just got here.'

  'I understood you wanted to see me right away,' Stacy said defensively, looking the tall figure in the eye. 'If you're busy I can come back later.'

  'No, that won't be necessary,' he said. His gaze left her to travel casually to the tall-backed chair in front of the desk. 'You don't mind waiting a few minutes, do you?'

  For the first time Stacy's eyes searched the room for the second voice she had heard outside. So intent on meeting Cord was she that she had momentarily forgotten her curiosity about the owner of the Cadillac outside. A movement in the chair captured her attention. The over-sized leather chair with its back to Stacy had hidden its occupant from her view. Now she saw the slender, stockinged legs, the high heels and the polished nails of a feminine hand. As the graceful figure rose from the chair, Stacy felt the quiver of a premonition flow through her. The woman was strikingly beautiful. Her hair was jet black and drawn back into a chignon, emphasizing her high cheekbones and creamy skin. Her eyes, as they turned to survey-Stacy, were as black as her hair and sparkled with a subdued fire. She was several inches taller than Stacy and managed to give the impression that she was looking down that graceful nose at her. The dark eyes glowed with pleasure as the woman looked at the bedraggled appearance of the other girl.

  'You are going to introduce us, aren't you, Cord dear?' the strange woman asked in a clear, melodic voice.

  'Of course,' he replied, his eyes never straying from Stacy's blushing face. 'Lydia, I'd like you to meet Miss Stacy Adams. She's been he'ping me around the ranch here, as you can tell. Miss Adams, this is Lydia Marshall, a very old friend of mine.'

  Murmuring an incoherent hello, Stacy nodded. Lydia—that was the woman Cord had been engaged to! Conscious of the significance of the two being together, she flashed a questioning look at Cord. His face maintained the same mocking expression that she had become so familiar with these past weeks. The gleam in his eyes that she had previously attributed to his satisfaction at her untidy appearance held something more. Maybe they were back together again, but what of Lydia's husband? A thousand questions raced through Stacy's mind as she tried to concentrate on the conversation between the two, but the only thing that remained implanted in her mind after Lydia left the room was the silky voice of the dark-haired woman.

  Stacy stared at the closed oak door trying desperately to shake the chilling dread that grew within her.

  'I said would you like to sit down, Adams,' the deep voice repeated in a slightly louder tone.

  'Of course—I'm sorry,' Stacy mumbled, further embarrassed by her inattention. She walked over and sat in one of the straight-backed chairs beside the desk. Cord had already seated himself behind his desk and was shuffling through a few papers.

  'She's a very beautiful woman. Did her husband come with her?' Stacy blurted out before she realized it.

  'No,' Cord replied, a whisper of a smile in his eyes and a smug satisfaction on his lips. 'It seems Mrs. Marshall is getting a divorce.'

  'Oh,' Stacy managed in a very small voice. Why did it upset her that the two were obviously getting back together?

  'Now to get at the reason I called you in here,' he started briskly. 'It's quite clear that our previous arrangement is not going to work, at least not the way I planned.'

  'I'm still willing to write you a cheque for any of the damages that I've caused,' she volunteered, sitting nervously on the edge of her chair. 'I quite understand that you wish to be rid of me now, and I assure you the feeling is mutual.'

  'I'm afraid you misunderstand,' he said, raising one eyebrow. 'I still believe you should work your debt out. What's obvious is that you can't take the place of one of the men, or even half of one. Therefore I propose that you handle somet
hing more in a feminine line.'

  'I don't quite understand what you're getting at?'

  'As I mentioned to you once before, each spring I have an auction where I sell some of my registered quarter horse stock, Texas-style. That means a barbecue and a party.' Cord's eyes were sparkling as he watched the dawning comprehension on Stacy's face, I'm sure with your country club background you'll be able to organize this year's activity, which will leave me free to take care of the ranch.'

  'How many people will be here?' Stacy asked, ignoring the veiled sarcasm in his last statement. 'When is it going to be?'

  'Before the day's over, I imagine several hundred people will have been here at one time or another. The date is set for June the ninth, almost four weeks away,' he answered, studying her face thoughtfully. 'Now, if you think it's too much for you—-?'

  'Not at all,' Stacy said defensively. 'But I must admit I'm curious why you didn't ask Mrs. Marshall to act as hostess and coordinator for you.'

  'It's really none of your business, the reasons for my decision to use you, but I've already said that I wanted you to work your way out, and this seemed the only alternative.' His voice had grown cold at her presumptuous statement. 'And Mrs. Marshall is going through a difficult adjustment and shouldn't be expected to supervise the preparations for a gathering of this size with the emotional pressure she's presently under. Besides, it wouldn't exactly be proper for Lydia to do so at this time. Of course, I doubt if you would realize that.'

  1 didn't know that other people's opinions bothered you,' she retorted, stung by the masterly way he was protecting his former fiancée.

  'It depends a great deal on the people involved,' Cord's icy voice replied. 'There are some people whose reputation I wouldn't want damaged, and there are some people who aren't going to be around long enough to worry about.'

  'If you're making some subtle reference to me, I would prefer that you speak your mind,' Stacy said angrily. 'You've acquired some ridiculous idea that I go around flirting with every man I meet. At least I don't go accosting guests staying in my home !'

  'I thought you'd have better sense than to bring that up,' Cord snapped in a dangerously low voice. The muscle in his jaw twitched its familiar warning sign again. 'Last night is better forgotten. Most women would have had enough pride not to have brought it up again.'

  'I don't happen to be most women!' Stacy retorted, rising agitatedly from her seat to stand with her hands clasped tightly on the back of the chair. 'Evidently you expect me to forget it with a snap of my fingers.'

  'Frankly, I don't care whether you forget it or not,' Cord said, looking up at the slim figure. 'Unless, of course, you want a repeat performance.'

  'That's the last thing I would ever want from you!' Guilt burned across her face as she remembered her response to his kiss in her dream.

  'Very well,' he said, closing the subject and turning his attention to a sheaf of papers in front of him. 'Here are some of the arrangements already made for the sale which you should make yourself familiar with. You may use this den as the centre of your activities. I won't be disturbing you since I take care of most of my paper work in the office. Quite likely there'll be a few details you will want to go over with me. You can contact me at that time. I believe that's all.'

  His cold tone of dismissal froze the angry words in Stacy's throat. She stood by the chair for a moment, but he didn't raise his eyes from the stack of papers. Briskly she turned on her heel and strode out of the room, giving the heavy oak door an added impetus as it closed. Gathering her belongings in the foyer, she stalked up the stairs to her room, where she flung her bundle down on the floor and stared at her glowering reflection in the dresser mirror.

  An hour later, as Stacy was walking out of the bathroom after showering and changing her clothes, she met Cord in the hallway.

  'I neglected to give you the keys to your car,' Cord said briskly, his cool, dark eyes taking in the freshness of her appearance. 'You'll be needing transportation, so I had one of my men bring it over from the cabin. It's in the garage.'

  'How thoughtful of you,' Stacy replied sarcastically.

  'I also had a typewrter installed in the den,' he added, his eyes narrowing at her tone. 'I believe that should take care of the things you'll need.'

  'I'm quite sure everything is satisfactory,' she said, starting to brush past the handsome figure. But his muscular arm shot out and blocked her passage. Stacy's flashing eyes looked up at the darkening face.

  'You can wipe that expression off your face,' Cord stated threateningly. 'A good thrashing would do wonders for a spoiled brat like you.'

  'Violence is your solution to everything, isn't it?' she answered, not flinching under his penetrating gaze. 'Now, get out of my way and let me by.'

  Shaking inwardly, she pushed his arm out of her way and walked briskly down the stairs. At the bottom of the steps stood the dark beauty of Lydia Marshall, her black eyes icy cold as she watched Stacy walk past her. The ice vanished as Cord made his way down the steps behind Stacy.

  'There you are!' Lydia said in her saccharine voice. 'I was beginning to wonder if you'd forgotten me. I fixed us a drink. I hope I've remembered how you like them.'

  Lydia's voice fluttered after Stacy like a flaunting red cape, but she didn't wait around to hear Cord's reply. Hurrying blindly into the den, Stacy leaned against the closed door and waited for the trembling in her knees and the pounding of her heart to return to normal. Why did she let Cord arouse her this way? He never acted the same way towards her twice. One time he was teasing and friendly as he was when he had found her at the river, and the next time he was violent and abusive, as when he had kissed her so brutally. And today he was the Don, condescending and dictatorial, making sure she knew where her place was. As far as Stacy was concerned Cord deserved the icy Latin beauty of Lydia Marshall with her sickening, ingratiating airs. Oh, how Stacy wished for the steadiness of Carter Mills. She was growing extremely weary of being a barometer of Cord's emotions.

  Discouraged and weary from the last three days of riding, she crossed over behind the desk and sat dejectedly in the chair and studied the stack of papers in front of her. The image of the tanned hands shuffling through them crossed her mind. Absently she shifted through them, her attention straying at first until the magnitude of the party with all its details began to sink in.

  Horror-stricken, she sat in the big swivel chair and went through the papers once more. If he hadn't been so antagonistic she would have explained that she had never given even a dinner party for more than twelve people in her life. What was she going to do now? The memory of his derisive, mocking smile flitted in front of her as she saw herself trying to explain to him.

  'Oh, how he'd like that,' Stacy thought. 'It would really please him to see me fall flat on my face. Well, that's not going to happen. I'll have to work a lot harder than I thought, but if I'm lucky, he'll never see the few mistakes I'll make.'

  With renewed confidence she tackled the stack of papers again and began to sort a plan out in her mind.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE red sorrel tossed his flaxen mane in the air and snorted his displeasure at the firm hand curbing Ms pace.

  'Easy, Diablo,' Stacy quieted him, but he continued to pull at the bit.

  Maybe a good gallop would release some of her tension, Stacy thought. The row she had had with Cord earlier that afternoon had taken its toll on her patience. Two weeks had passed since he had put her in charge of the sale festivities, the co-ordination of all the various activities was a full-time job and exceedingly trying for someone who had never done it before, despite the assistance from the wires of the permanent hands. Stacy had been pleased with the job she had done thus far. She also had the feeling that Cord was satisfied with her work, too. Not that it really mattered what his opinion was, she told herself. But this afternoon when she was going over some of the correspondence with him regarding the preparation of the auction itself, Cord had asked her for the printer's pro
of of the sales catalogue. Stacy knew nothing about it and confessed her ignorance of it to him.

  She could still see the thundering expression on his face when he heard her words. She burned at the memory of his scathing remarks. If only she had been able to explain to him her inexperience in arranging such affairs, but the humiliation had burned too deep to allow any room for further scorn. The man was so callous that he couldn't possibly possess anything that even remotely resembled a heart.

  Cord had been gone almost every day since the initial meeting when he had turned the preparations over to her. Sometimes during the day he took time to confer with her, but their conversations were limited strictly to the auction. Stacy didn't know if the ranch work was pressing or if he was merely avoiding spending any time with her. Lydia breezed in several times looking for him, occasionally condescending to consult Stacy for Cord's whereabouts, conveying the impression that he was helping her with the technicalities of her divorce. Usually she found him somewhere, since Stacy often saw them from her window, Cord's head bent low to catch some confiding remark the raven-haired woman made, her arm resting possessively on his. Stacy normally turned guiltily from the window, blushing as if she had been caught in the act of eavesdropping on an intimate conversation. Other times she watched until they were out of sight before returning to her work with an odd sense of depression about her.

  She was positive that Cord's continued absence in the evenings was caused by Lydia. Strangely enough Stacy found herself either missing him or dreading his arrival, and she refused to let herself delve into the reasons for her contradictory emotions.

  Several evenings Jim Connors had joined her on the veranda, and they had chatted away, discovering many interests in common. Stacy enjoyed the easy companionship of the young cowboy with his ready laughter and undemanding company. It was a vast difference from her tempestuous relationship with Cord Harris. With Jim she felt comfortable and at ease, not worrying about each little word she said and how he was going to interpret it. The friendly relaxed atmosphere that surrounded her when she was with Jim reminded her of the way she had relied on Carter Mills.