The Girl with the Golden Spurs

by Ann Major

  “I thought you hated guns,” Sam said, oblivious to the undercurrents between them.

  “You used to say they were a necessary evil. So did Daddy. Maybe I’m just taking you at your word.”

  When Cole started to hand her his gun, she shook her head. “No. I want to practice with my revolver. I got it down out of my closet. I found several boxes of bullets, too.”

  “What do you intend to shoot with that?” Sam asked when she pulled it out of her jacket pocket.

  There was a long silence.

  “I’m not rightly sure,” she said, holding her cone awkwardly while spinning the empty cylinder at the same time. “Whatever gets in my way, I guess.” She didn’t mean that. She didn’t want to shoot anybody or anything—ever.

  “Didn’t anybody ever tell you it’s dangerous to carry a gun in your pocket?” Sam said.

  “Especially when you’re gobbling ice-cream cones?” Cole added.

  “Lots of things are dangerous. But they are more dangerous if you don’t face them.” She took another long lick of chocolate and smiled when she caught Cole watching her with that special gleam in his eyes. Oh, if only she was as brave or felt as playful as she pretended.

  Sam lifted his brows. “You’re changing—fast.”

  “All right then,” Cole replied. “We’ll get some empty soda cans and drive to the pond. Nothing like shooting cans in a pond to improve your aim with a revolver. You wanna come along, Sam?”

  “Sure. But I’ll join you later. I have a couple of phone calls to make. You two have fun.”

  “Always,” Cole said under his breath, grinning at her as he leaned down close enough to kiss her.

  “Want a lick?” She held the cone up to his lips, but he drew back.

  “Tease,” she whispered, glancing up at his chiseled lips with way too much hunger.

  “Can’t have you getting too conceited about your power over me,” he murmured. “You’re not as irresistible as you think.”

  “Just ’cause you had me last night.” She hesitated. “Cole, I’m sorry about last night.”

  “Me, too.” He grabbed her and kissed her hard.

  She laughed. “See, I am, too, irresistible.”

  He grabbed her cone and painted the tip of her nose with it lightly.

  “Cole!”

  “You shouldn’t have pushed it,” he said. “A man can only resist so much. Chocolate ice cream looks mighty tempting all of a sudden.”

  She laughed again, and he kissed her again so thoroughly she tingled all the way to her toes. Then he grabbed her cone and bit off the top.

  Cole drove to the far side of the pond where the brush and grass were blackened by fire, and she was reminded anew of the mysterious accidents and the murders—and why she was practicing her shooting.

  “We need the wind on our backs,” he said as he threw the cans out.

  She smiled, understanding when they began to float away from them.

  “Don’t shoot until I tell you,” he said.

  “You’re the boss.”

  “Out here, maybe. If I was really the boss, you’d marry me.”

  She felt her pulse flutter with illogical longing. “Don’t…”

  She turned away and began to fire rapidly. Her first three shots missed, but the ripples in the pond showed her that each succeeding shot hit closer to the can than the one before. Her last three bullets sank the two cans. Hitting what she aimed at scared her a little.

  “Not bad,” he muttered, clearly impressed. “For a girl.”

  “For a beginner,” she corrected.

  “Are you ever going to trust me?” he said, taking the revolver and showing her how to reload it.

  “I trust you,” she murmured.

  “But just so far,” he said, handing the pistol back to her. “Not enough to marry me.”

  “We’re having an affair. Why can’t that be enough now?”

  She took aim just as Sam’s blue truck rumbled over the bridge.

  “Hold your fire,” Cole said, placing his hand on top the barrel of her pistol and lowering it as the truck roared up to them.

  “Hey!” Sam yelled as he alighted from his truck. “How’s she doing.”

  “Don’t sneak up on her in the dark. She’s a natural.”

  “Wouldn’t think of sneaking up on a country girl.” Sam winked as he loaded his pistol. Then all three of them took turns shooting. The men were sure and fast and so cocky about their ability they gave her pointers. Very soon, she was sinking every can with a single bullet. When she got a little cocky herself, they took full credit.

  “We’re just good teachers,” Cole said.

  When they were out of bullets, they returned to the big house for lunch. Without greeting them Sy’rai slapped a Houston newspaper onto the table as they pulled chairs out from under the table.

  “Do you believe this?” she said.

  “That’s helluva welcome.”

  Cole frowned as he picked the paper up.

  “Kinky drove Joanne to town this morning,” Sy’rai continued. “They brought this when they came back. The guy writing this piece thinks Caesar was murdered along with Electra and Cherry. Joanne got so upset, she locked herself in the bedroom. The phone’s been ringing off the wall, too. Everybody who’s anybody in this here state wants to come to the museum opening now. Joanne caved and ordered a second tent. She’s decided to expand the guest list for the celebration dinner. She said, ‘If everybody’s talking about us, I think we need to let them all come and gawk.’”

  “If we expand the guest list, we’ll need a lot more security,” Sam said in a concerned tone.

  Cole set the paper aside. “What’s for lunch?”

  “How can you think about food right now?” Lizzy said.

  “Easy.” Cole arched a brow at Sy’rai. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Fried chicken.”

  “My kind of woman.”

  Lizzy shot him a mock scowl and everybody laughed. Nobody said much during lunch, but from time to time Lizzy thought Sam watched Cole rather warily, as if he sensed the change in their relationship. As the men were finishing homemade apple pie, while Lizzy sipped coffee, Cole got a call on his cell phone from Leo and excused himself from the table.

  Lizzy set her mug down. “I’d better go see what Vanilla’s up to.”

  As she stood up, Sam said. “Stay a sec.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “Maybe you should leave the Golden Spurs for a while,” Sam said.

  She notched her chin higher. “What are you saying?”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be taking shooting lessons or living here with Cole right now. Uncle B.B. asked me to talk to you. He said maybe you should go back to New York. Take Vanilla. Stay away…at least until we get this celebration out of the way. There’s going to be a lot of people. In the confusion, anything could happen.”

  “Sam, surely you don’t agree that I should be afraid of Cole.”

  “He hasn’t been himself since the accident, now has he?

  You heard that detective. A lot of weird things have been going on. Phillips suspects him. Apparently, Cole won’t tell him where he was for several critical hours the day before and the day after Cherry was found dumped in our tank. Phillips says he’s going to want DNA samples.”

  “Cole didn’t kill Cherry. Why would he?”

  “Maybe she knew something.”

  “He won’t hurt me, either. You must believe that.”

  “He’s a Knight. He used to hate us. Maybe he still does.”

  “Things are different now,” she said.

  “Are they?”

  “But he married Mia. He fathered Vanilla. He owns stock in the ranch. He works harder for the Golden Spurs than anybody.”

  “Maybe he killed Mia.”

  “Don’t say that!”

  “She’s dead, and if he marries you, he’ll own
even more stock, won’t he?”

  “Do you think he wants to marry me or kill me? You and Uncle B.B. can’t have it both ways.”

  “Why can’t we? He may have married and killed Mia. Listen to me. Two women are dead. Two women your father was involved with. Now your father’s dead, too. Did Cole tell you he flew to Nicaragua, shortly before Electra Scott was murdered?”

  “How do you know that?”

  “The police. Phillips got his name off the airline’s roster.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Ask Phillips, then.”

  When she said nothing, Sam stared at her, concern and what looked like pity lighting his soft, dark eyes. He had always looked out for her.

  “Cole wouldn’t hurt me,” she whispered.

  “I damn sure hope to hell you’re right ’cause I’m tired of people dying around here.”

  Nineteen

  Whenever Lizzy was nervous she frequently sought refuge in the nursery by playing silly games with Vanilla. Today, she was trying not to worry about Cole as she inserted a Teletubby DVD into the DVD player and switched on the television.

  Vanilla, who’d been sitting on the floor in the nursery shaking her music box and playing nursery rhymes, dropped the music box and toddled to the screen, laughing when the soft round tubbies appeared. Then Vanilla turned to see if Lizzy was watching, too.

  Joanne had redone Mia’s old room into a nursery. The walls were painted in pastel colors, pink, yellow, green. Each wall had been painted in a different color. The nursery floor was carpeted with plush squares that had pictures of animals and big fuzzy numbers and letters on them.

  The tubbies began to sing what seemed to Lizzy a silly song, but Vanilla found their gentle voices inviting and their pastel fairyland that looked a lot like the nursery nonthreatening.

  Rocking back and forth in time to their tune, Vanilla watched them entranced. When the tubbies broke into dance, Vanilla hopped up and down so excitedly until she fell on her plumply padded bottom.

  Lizzy laid her yoga mat down and was doing her warm-up stretches when the phone rang.

  She answered it and immediately stood up straighter when she recognized her old boss’s voice.

  “Liz?”

  “Nell? Hi.”

  “I’m sorry about your dad.”

  “It was nice of you to call, Nell.” Lizzy sank into a rocker.

  “I’ve been reading about the Golden Spurs. Sounds pretty impressive. And you’re running things down there?”

  Lizzy didn’t smile. “Being run over by them mostly.”

  Nell laughed. They talked for a while, about New York, about Lizzy’s new life at the ranch, and all the time, Lizzy rocked back and forth, wondering why Nell had called.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here at the station when you came to pick up your things,” Nell finally said.

  “I was pretty upset.”

  “That’s understandable. I’m sorry, Liz. Um…er…well, I don’t know how to say this exactly, but if you ever decide to move back to the city, come by and see me.” She hesitated. “I’d like to give you another chance. I feel really bad about what happened.” She paused again. “You could have told me who you were.”

  “I did.”

  “Right. I knew you were a rancher and a Kemble. I just didn’t know you were one of the Kembles.”

  “Oh.” Lizzy felt the beginning of the glow inside her dissolve. “I didn’t think it was relevant.”

  Nell laughed. “I don’t think I fully appreciated what an original you are—a famous person, who doesn’t want to be famous.”

  Lizzy remembered Nell was a celebrity hound.

  “Well, I just thought I’d call and let you know we’re hiring again,” Nell said brightly.

  “Sure.” Lizzy spoke through her teeth. “Thanks. I’ll think about it.”

  “No hurry. The job’s open. Anytime.”

  Not for me. For a Kemble.

  Nell chatted some more, and Lizzy listened numbly, a little surprised that the prospect of making it in Manhattan on the Kemble name didn’t excite her nearly as much as it excited Nell.

  A week passed, and the weather grew colder. Although Lizzy and everybody else were nervous and watchful, nothing untoward happened. Detective Phillips harassed Cole by phone as often as possible. He gave Joanne and Sam and Leo a hard time, too, which kept the tension level high. He wanted DNA samples, and was busy making the necessary arrangements.

  There were no breaks in the case and no more suspicious accidents, either. No missing cattle shipments, no fires.

  Yet, still the ranch felt strangely oppressive, and everyone was on his guard. Lizzy couldn’t shake the feeling that any minute there would be a new disaster. As a result she found herself wandering out to the Spur Tree much too often, as if some profound question could be answered there. She practiced using her revolver.

  Kembles from all over the country, including Uncle B.B., Aunt Mona, Lauren, Nanette and Sam, began arriving and moving into the big house to prepare for the museum opening and the celebration. Although some came by private jet, most flew commercial. Sam, of course, had only a short drive.

  Thus, there was the constant, daily excitement of more new comers. Nearly every day another Kemble from some far-flung locale had to be picked up from the Corpus Christi airport. At the end of the week, the big house overflowed and took on a dude ranch atmosphere. The urban Kembles strutted around the place in their fancy Western outfits and brand-new Stetsons.

  At night the dining room was so jammed, Sy’rai had to hire extra help to cook and clean. Lizzy’s depression lifted now that the house rang with voices and laughter, and there was so much to do and to look forward to.

  During the days everybody worked to spruce the ranch up and work out the details for the parties and decorations and events that were to be held. Lizzy spent long hours in the library reading history books to perfect her speech. Joanne, Sam, Walker and Leo would be giving speeches, too.

  Lizzy felt that she and Cole were living on borrowed time. Thus, every night when the house was dark and the family had gone to bed, Lizzy stole up the carpeted stairs to lie in his arms. They would make love with a sad kind of desperation. Afterward he would hold her close. And always he would demand that she leave the ranch or marry him.

  On one such night as they lay entwined, their bodies still slick with sweat, he said, “Why don’t you take Nell’s job, go back to New York, at least for a little while.”

  “We’ve been over this and over this.”

  “But I can’t quit worrying about you, darlin’,” he murmured. “Whoever chased you and ran Star into that pond is probably sleeping under this roof right now just waiting for his chance.”

  Lizzy shivered. “Cole, did you ever think that I might not be any safer, even in New York? My mother was murdered in Nicaragua.”

  His big body tensed.

  She stroked his back. “What’s the matter, Cole?”

  “Nothing.” But he tried to pull away.

  She rolled on top of him and stared into his eyes, so that she could read him. “Did you go to Nicaragua…before my mother died?”

  Agony scrawled itself across his dark face before he could hide it. Then he pushed her aside and sat up. Next he jerked a pillow under his head. “Why? What if I did? Does that mean I killed her? Is that what you think?”

  “Did you go there or not?”

  He inhaled deeply and stared straight ahead.

  “Why won’t you answer me?”

  “Maybe because you’ve already made up your damn mind.”

  “If I had, would I be here in bed with you?” She hesitated. Then she said softly, “You don’t remember, do you?”

  “Okay! Damn it, I found a ticket to Nicaragua with my damn name on it! And it scared the shit out of me! But I don’t remember going there and I’ve never blacked out for the amount of time it’d take to fly to Nicaragua and back. So I don’t think I did. Now, there, you know what I know. Are yo
u happy?”

  She went very still.

  “Do you think I killed her, and then Cherry? Is that what you think?”

  She chose her words carefully. “The Cole I know isn’t capable of murder.”

  “But what if I’m someone else, too?”

  “You aren’t.” She wanted to believe that. She wanted to so much.

  He raked a hand through his black hair. “I hope to hell you’re right. Look, I know I used to be a single-minded, whiny, egotistical jerk with a chip on my shoulder a mile wide. I hated your father. I know I hurt you, too, Lizzy. I hate the man I was, but I’d rather be him than be some sicko like a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde combo.”

  “Don’t think that! That’s not what’s going on.”

  “Are you really sure? Maybe my head injury did permanent damage, and I’m some sort of freak.”

  “You’re not.”

  “That’s why I want you to leave. Okay, don’t go to New York. Go somewhere I can’t find you.”

  “I’m sorry I asked you that question.”

  “I’m glad you did.” After that he didn’t say anything more.

  His dark mood was her fault. She’d asked. Now she had to get his mind off this terrible subject.

  She ran her hand down his lean torso, feathering her fingers through the dark matted hair at his chest. “Make love to me now. What’s your wildest fantasy?”

  “For you to love me forever and to marry me.”

  “Even if I’m not ready for marriage?”

  “You want to know what I think?” His voice was suddenly low and harsh. “I think you’re afraid to marry me…because deep down…you believe…just as I fear…I might be that monster.”

  The breath went out of her. “When you say that I feel like I’m living in a nightmare.”

  “Welcome to the club, darlin’.”

  She couldn’t think of anything else to say or do that would make things better between them. With each beat of her heart, the silence in the dark room thickened.

  At last he sighed. “We’re not getting any sleep, either one of us, and we’ve got a lot to do tomorrow to get ready.”

  “I don’t care about tomorrow.”

  “Well, maybe I do. You know, I’m beginning to think we should give our relationship a rest.”