The Girl with the Golden Spurs

by Ann Major

  Cole flew the entire trip to Texas without speaking to her again. Thus, it was a surprise when they landed in Houston, and he pointed grimly at a crowd swarming in front of their private hangar. Sy’rai and Kinky Hernandez, the ranch cook and foreman, were surrounded by the milling throng.

  “Who are they?” she asked.

  “The press.” His low tone was flat. “They smell blood. Yours. Your father’s. Maybe mine, too.”

  She inhaled a shaky breath.

  “Stay put. John and I will unload the luggage and the baby and then come back for you.”

  They got their bags and carried Vanilla off the plane. Lizzy pressed her hands to the glass as she watched them stride through the crowd and hand the baby to Sy’rai, who hugged Vanilla close. To Lizzy’s profound relief Cole soon returned for her.

  As he guided her from the plane and toward the reporters, she realized how much she needed him to lean on. If her father didn’t get well fast, and she ended up working on the ranch for weeks or maybe months, she, Cole and his daughter would share the same house. She’d have to see him constantly.

  Last night wouldn’t be over for weeks, maybe months.

  She’d barely cleared the plane when Texas newspaper, magazine and television reporters stampeded toward her. Microphones were pressed to her lips. Cameras snapped. Flashes exploded in her face.

  “Are you home for good, Miss Kemble?”

  “Who will take over? Another more experienced member of the family? You? Oran outsider?” They stared at Cole, too.

  “Miss Kemble, do you know anything about Cherry Lane’s disappearance?”

  “Cherry?” Lizzy shuddered. “Excuse me?”

  “Miss Lane didn’t show up to dance at work last night,” one of the reporters supplied. “Her apartment was unlocked, and her bed stripped. Her Toyota is still in the carport. But she’s gone. Nobody’s seen or heard from her.”

  Cole interrupted them. “Miss Kemble is tired and worried about her father.”

  “Is it true the board asked your father to give up Cherry or resign?”

  Lizzy felt Cole’s big hand tighten on her arm as he propelled her toward Sy’rai and Kinky and Vanilla, who were waiting for her inside the ranch’s big black SUV.

  “Miss Kemble—”

  Somehow Cole got her inside the big vehicle. Kinky started the engine and rolled up the tinted windows. Soon the SUV glided forward, leaving the chaos behind them.

  There were more reporters outside the hospital, who repeated the same question: Where was Cherry Lane?

  Cole led Lizzy past them to the ICU waiting room, which was filled with family members.

  Everybody was there except for the two people she most wanted—her brothers, Hawk and Walker. She doubted they’d even heard about Daddy’s condition. Her mother looked tired and wan in jeans and a checkered shirt.

  They embraced stiffly and Lizzy felt fresh guilt. And all the time, she felt everybody watching them, watching her.

  Uncle B.B., Aunt Nanette and her sons, Sam and Bobby Joe, were in the hospital waiting area. Dear, sweet reliable Sam smiled politely enough. Sam’s shy younger brother, Bobby Joe, even attempted a smile, too. Still, Lizzy felt walls and new tensions. In contrast to her own mother, Aunt Nanette—who had dyed her hair auburn—was dressed flamboyantly in a flame-colored silk Western shirt, leather pants, boots and half a million dollars’ worth of diamonds. A younger cowboy, who was tall and dark, stood behind her, saying nothing. Aunt Nanette’s new lover?

  “It’s such a shock,” Aunt Nanette said, twirling one of her diamond rings on her finger. “Caesar’s not himself. But you’ll see soon enough, dear. A lot of times I thought my brother was meaner than a skillet full of rattlesnakes, but I wouldn’t ever have wished this on him.”

  A false note in Aunt Nanette’s tone filled Lizzy with dread.

  Sam came up and hugged her while Bobby Joe stood back and merely watched. “How are you doing, Lizzy girl?”

  “I’m a little tired.” She clung to Sam’s wiry, solid frame. He wasn’t as tall as Cole, but he was just as strongly built. Next she greeted Uncle B.B. and his wife, Aunt Mona.

  “Nothing is the same,” Uncle B.B. said sadly. Like her mother, he wore jeans, boots and his regular white work shirt.

  Aunt Mona looked exactly as one expected ranch royalty to look. She was tall, slim and stunning in black jeans and custom-made boots. As always, her gold jewelry was done in a Western motif. Today, golden horses dangled from her ears, and a miniature gold horse was pinned to her collar.

  “If we pull together, we’ll be okay,” Uncle B.B. said.

  Lizzy stepped back, not quite trusting her uncle for some reason. Uncle B.B. and Aunt Mona had always resented Caesar’s control. They’d constantly sent Lizzy’s parents and the board a barrage of registered letters filled with their demands, letters that couldn’t be read without an attorney to interpret them.

  Lizzy felt all mixed up. Being with them and not with her father only made Lizzy miss her father all the more. Desperation began to build inside her until Lizzy wanted nothing except to see him. Wringing her hands, she looked toward the door.

  “What’s this about Caesar wanting you to run things?” Uncle B.B. demanded while Aunt Mona frowned.

  Bobby Joe moved closer so he could hear every word.

  “You’ve been gone for years,” Uncle B.B. said. “Who’s he to say who should run things anyway after the stunts he’s pulled lately? Hell, because of him the Kemble name is a joke.”

  “It will be rough going for you, Lizzy,” Sam said with genuine concern. “You haven’t lived here for a while. The Golden Spurs is in the process of creating a whole new identity for itself. Our operation is more about money than cattle or hunting.”

  “That’s not what Daddy said the last time we spoke.”

  “A long time ago the family made a vow to keep the ranch together,” Joanne said softly.

  “Why do I have the feeling the ranch is breaking up then?” Lizzy murmured as she looked at each one of them.

  “Because we’re experiencing some growing pains,” Sam said calmly. “These are new times. Your father wants to stick to tradition while some of the rest of us feel it’s time for a new vision.”

  “To hell with Caesar!” Uncle B.B. thundered. “If he hadn’t had a stroke he would have married that stripper. He’s done more to bring the ranch down than anybody else.”

  Joanne moaned.

  Bobby Joe stormed out.

  “When can I see him?” Suddenly Lizzy was worried about her father, only her father. She’d always felt overshadowed by all these larger-than-life characters. She couldn’t deal with them—not now.

  Cole, who was standing apart from them, strode toward her. When he took her hand, Lizzy, ridiculously glad he was there, squeezed his fingers.

  How could the only thing that felt right in her life be the presence of the one man who couldn’t belong in it? But right now he made her feel cared for and safe.

  “She’ll feel better when she sees Caesar for herself,” Cole said gently to the others. “The unknown is scarier than the reality.”

  When the others nodded, Cole took her hand and led her out of the waiting room, across the hall and through the double doors that opened into ICU. Since Cole knew the way, all Lizzy had to do was follow him.

  When they reached a green curtain, a young nurse in pink scrubs and running shoes with a long black braid hanging down her back looked up from a clipboard. “You family?” she barked.

  “His daughter,” Cole said.

  The nurse nodded brusquely. “I haven’t seen her here before.”

  The woman’s pointed stare struck Lizzy like a blow. Daughterly guilt consumed her. She swallowed. “I live in New York.”

  The young nurse’s pen was tucked over one ear. She looked so efficient. When she set her clipboard down and swept aside the green curtains that concealed Caesar’s hospital bed from the rest of the unit, Lizzy felt awkward and utterly useless.
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br />   “Normally visiting hours are eight, twelve, four and…”

  Lizzy was aware only of the prone figure on the bed. His eyes were wide, and he glared fixedly up at the ceiling tiles. She couldn’t believe this rigid lump of flesh covered up with tubes and surrounded by gurgling machines was her once proud and powerful father. If ever a man looked like he’d fallen face down in a sticker patch and been stomped to death by rampaging bulls, her daddy looked that way.

  “Daddy?”

  His grim expression contorted.

  “Daddy…it’s me—Lizzy.” Hesitantly she leaned over him. “I’m here, Daddy.”

  She brushed his cheek ever so softly with the back of her hand. “Remember you asked me to promise I’d come home, if anything happened.” She strangled on a sob. “Well, I—I’m home.”

  Not knowing what else to say after that, she lapsed into silence. The only sound was the hiss and murmur of the machines.

  She watched all the little lights on the various monitors flicker. The hospital felt so alien. Oh, if only she could say or do something to make him better. She felt helpless and awkward and guilty for being whole and well herself.

  She leaned over his tanned face again, unaware that tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “Daddy, I just wish I could talk to you. I wish… I—I…wish…that I could have made you proud of me…just once. But I never could. Everybody else always could. But Daddy, I wanted to. You’ll never know how much I wanted to. It was just that… Did you ever do anything you were ashamed of?”

  His gaze flickered.

  More words wouldn’t come. The pain of not being worthy of him was unbearable. Her shoulders slumped. “Now I’ll never get the chance to make you proud of me.”

  When she finally left him, she found Cole waiting for her in the hall outside the double doors of the unit.

  “How was he?”

  “Worse than I expected.” She barely recognized her own voice.

  “The same then.”

  “Why do people get sick like that?”

  “They get old. They wear out.”

  “But he’s not old.”

  “All it takes is one weak link. He pushed himself mighty hard. The ranch. The divorce.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’re like chains. His vascular system was the weak link that broke and caused his swing to crash to the ground.”

  “I want him like he was before.”

  “We all do. But we’ve got to go on from here.”

  “Do you think he’ll ever be all right?”

  “I don’t know, Lizzy. Maybe.”

  “Not knowing what will happen next isn’t easy.”

  “But then that’s how life is. We don’t ever know what’s around the next bend in the road.”

  Twelve

  Never before had Lizzy felt so helpless. Day after day as she sat in the ICU beside her father, who continued to stare up at the ceiling, she prayed for a miracle.

  Please, God, make him well.

  One afternoon when her brothers were in with Caesar, Lizzy opened her eyes in the waiting room after saying such a prayer, Cole was there beside her. As always, he wore crisply starched jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt with the top two buttons undone at his dark throat.

  Her heart leapt. “I—I didn’t hear you come in.”

  His quick, gentle smile unleashed a torrent of unwanted emotion, so she closed her eyes again, hoping he wouldn’t see.

  “I’m leaving later today,” he drawled when she trusted herself to look at him again. “Now that Hawk and Walker are here, I’ll be taking Sy’rai, Kinky and Vanilla back to the ranch.”

  “You’re leaving?” The thought brought utter desolation.

  “There’s a board meeting in a few days,” he said. “I’ll be back to fly you to San Antonio, if you want to go to it.”

  “Of course. Thanks.” She forced a smile. “I feel so helpless here. If only there was something I could do for him.”

  He slid a thick black briefcase across the floor toward her. “Your daddy wanted you in charge if something happened to him.”

  She ran her trembling fingers over her father’s initials that were engraved in gold into the dark leather.

  “He had these documents inside this case when he had the stroke,” Cole said. “I had the minutes and reports from all the board meetings from the past six months copied for you, as well. I also included some stuff about plans for the ranch museum’s opening. If you get through even half the papers, at least you won’t go to the meeting blind.”

  “Thank you.”

  He shrugged. “It’ll give you something to think about when you have time on your hands here at the hospital and are afraid you can’t do anything for him.”

  She nodded.

  “Sam told you that the ranch is searching for a new identity for itself,” he continued as he arose to go. “We’re redefining what we think the ranch and family should stand for.” He moved toward the doorway. “I think if you read this stuff—”

  She barely heard what he said. All she could think of was that he was leaving, and she felt too overwhelmed by her father’s illness to face anything else. “I’ve never been to San Antonio without my father…alone.”

  “You’ll be with me.”

  “You’re the last person I should want there.”

  “Just read one document at a time, and you won’t be so overwhelmed,” he said gently before he left her.

  It scared her a little that he understood what she was feeling so well.

  A norther gusted into Houston that night, snuffing out the last of the Indian summer. The skies above the glass skyscrapers and tall pine trees became gray and dark. In the late afternoon when she left the hospital, the weather was humid and drizzly. As if her father’s condition, her mother’s remote unfriendliness, the dreary weather and the board meeting looming in the future weren’t enough to worry her, the front pages of every newspaper ran inch-high headlines about Cherry Lane’s mysterious disappearance.

  The police suspected foul play. The last vehicle a neighborhood teenager remembered having been parked in front of the stripper’s place was a black truck. The kid had given them a couple of numbers off the license plate. The kid had been fascinated by Cherry because of her profession. He’d seen that truck there before—lots of times, usually late at night.

  The morning three days after Cole had left, Lizzy and her mother were dressed to leave for the hospital when Gigi tapped on Joanne’s door. “That pesty detective is pacing up and down my living room again.”

  Joanne snapped her purse shut.

  Lizzy remembered the man too well. Detective Joe Phillips was a short man with an abrasive manner. Just mentioning his name was enough to make Lizzy’s mother bristle.

  “The gall of that insufferable idiot! The moron actually thinks I had something to do with that bitch’s disappearance. I wish I had!”

  “Mother!”

  “Go on to the car. I won’t be long.”

  “Don’t antagonize him.”

  They descended the stairs together. When her mother headed toward the living room, Lizzy realized she’d forgotten her father’s briefcase upstairs. The board meeting was tomorrow. Since she wanted to go over several documents again, there was nothing to do but rush back up to her bedroom.

  When she dashed back down the stairs again, her mother’s raised voice stopped her cold.

  “I can assure you, Detective Phillips, I never met that awful woman. No, I can’t explain about that truck. No, I don’t know why someone scrubbed her apartment walls and vacuumed. Look, my husband’s ill. My driver’s waiting.”

  “Did you ever speak to Miss Lane on any occasion?”

  “Either accuse me of something or leave! I will not sit here and answer any more of your ridiculous questions without my lawyer present.”

  “This will only—”

  “Good day, Detective,” she said curtly.

  “It’s only natural that you d
isliked her immensely.”

  “I never met her. Good day.”

  When her ashen-faced mother stumbled into the hall and caught Lizzy eavesdropping, Lizzy blushed and held up Caesar’s briefcase. “I—I forgot this upstairs.”

  Detective Phillips stalked gloomily toward the front door.

  “Disgusting little man,” her mother said.

  “What did he want?

  “Nothing really. A black truck was seen at Cherry’s place. He says the license plate of one of our ranch trucks happens to start with the same three numbers. As if that’s proof of something.”

  “Who could have been driving the truck?”

  “Who cares? He’s blowing the whole thing out of proportion. Cherry probably ran off with another lover.” She opened the kitchen door. “Oh, damn. Not more rain.”

  On the porch Joanne’s hands shook so badly as she tried to open her umbrella that Lizzy had to do it for her.

  “Horrible man,” Joanne said as her big black umbrella finally snapped open.

  “Did you ever talk to her?”

  Joanne didn’t answer immediately. “You’re as bad as that detective.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  During the silent drive to the hospital, each of them stared out their own windows at the rain-slick freeway. When they finally arrived, reporters charged their Lexus, screaming questions at her mother, who used her umbrella like a battering ram as she dashed through the middle of them.

  Lizzy’s mother refused to leave Caesar’s side until late that night. By the time they got home to Gigi’s, Lizzy was exhausted.

  To prepare for the board meeting, she had read and reread the thick stack of minutes in her father’s briefcase. Not that all the reports made sense to her.

  But they would, she told herself. I can do this!

  A hand-written memo from her father to Leo Storm, the board’s CEO, had caught her attention. She’d gone over it dozens of times. And each time, her heart had raced fearfully.

  If anything should happen to me in the near future, put Lizzy in charge. Caesar.

  That was all. Still, something about the memo frightened her. It was as if he’d had a premonition, as if he distrusted someone on the inside of the ranching operation.