The Girl with the Golden Spurs

by Ann Major

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I want you to go. I’m saying you’re a Kemble and I’m a Knight…and maybe worse. Hell, maybe I’m a certifiable monster. I’m saying don’t knock on my door tomorrow night, darlin’—or ever again for that matter.”

  “But, Cole—”

  She tried to put her arms around him, but he shook her off.

  “Look, you don’t trust me. I don’t trust me. Maybe we were damned from the start. All I know is that I’d rather be alone than for you and me to go on like this. Hot sex isn’t enough for me anymore.”

  “Hot sex? Is that all you think we have?”

  “Well, we damn sure don’t have trust or true love, now do we? I want more, Lizzy.”

  On a sob, she got out of bed and hurriedly dressed. He didn’t turn on the light and watch her dress-tease, as he called it, the way he usually did. And she missed his eyes gleaming so hotly they lit her entire being.

  Instead he rolled over as if he were bored with her and ignored her completely.

  The nursery radio was playing hard rock. Lizzy had turned it on to drown out her sorrow about Cole’s sudden desertion and because Vanilla loved music. Ever since their quarrel, Lizzy’s heart had felt like it was breaking.

  Vanilla stood on the dresser and was jumping up and down to the beat in her ballerina dress while Lizzy ran a silver brush through her snarled hair.

  “Hold still, Vanilla. Don’t you even care that cocktails are to be served at six-thirty sharp outside on the lawn and your aunt Lizzy is supposed to be a hostess for the museum opening gala?”

  Vanilla giggled.

  Lizzy’s cell phone that was clipped to her belt rang, and she answered it, hoping it was Cole.

  “Where are you?” Joanne demanded. “The party’s started.”

  “I’m with Vanilla.”

  “Hurry.”

  They both hung up.

  “Of course, you don’t care that we’re running a little late, you little minx, now do you?” Lizzy said to Vanilla, who patted the mirror on her dresser.

  Lizzy didn’t care, either. In fact she dreaded going to the party now that Cole was so determined to avoid her. Some part of her doubted him and he knew it.

  She hadn’t seen much of him lately, and she was almost glad the long day’s back-to-back activities had left her breathless and tired. She’d given her speech at the museum and listened to the others’ speeches, especially the one Leo had given in honor of Caesar. Then Joanne had talked her into hosting a two-hour bus tour of the ranch. But what had really worn her out was having to make small talk with the endless visitors who’d come, especially to mingle with the family. Part of her job was to smile, answer questions and try to be positive about the ranch.

  Watching the baby dance on her dresser as Lizzy brushed her hair made it impossible to believe there was real evil or murderers who strangled women in the world.

  “Be still. You can hardly walk and already you’re trying to dance—on your dresser, no less!”

  Vanilla jerked her head away from the brush and then tried to grab it.

  “Too bad. I’m done. And you’re beautiful.”

  Lizzy felt pretty and feminine as she stared at herself and Vanilla in the dresser mirror. Lizzy wore a black silk Western shirt, tight black jeans and black custom-made boots. Vanilla had on a puffy pink chiffon dress with satin slippers. The little girl stopped dancing and smiled flirtatiously at herself and then at Lizzy’s reflection. Growing bored, the baby began to tug at her pink satin bow.

  “Don’t, Vanilla, dear.”

  The little girl stuck out her lip and yanked harder, laughing mischievously when the bow came undone. She began chewing on the long pieces of ribbon until they were sodden with saliva.

  “It would make more sense to dress up an orangutan,” Lizzy said.

  Vanilla dropped the limp ribbons and clapped at her reflection. Then she stretched her hands out to Lizzy and made appropriate monkey squeals that meant pick me up.

  Grinning, Lizzy swung the happy little girl up into her arms. Together they descended the stairs down to the dinner that was being held under two immense white tents on the back lawn, to celebrate the museum opening.

  Every time Lizzy thought about Cole, she fought to distract herself. She forced herself to note how beautifully lit and gorgeous the house looked as she carried Vanilla through the huge rooms downstairs. Wood floors and furnishings had been waxed or oiled, the Oriental rugs taken up and cleaned.

  When she reached the front door and stepped outside, she saw the booths that Hawk and Walker had set up on the lawn where guests and clients could learn about wildlife management, cattle management, environmental research and brush control.

  It was a beautiful evening with a sprinkling of stars. There would be more stars, of course, as the night darkened.

  Tables with long pink table clothes and little copper bowls filled with roses for centerpieces were scattered about on the grass. A dance floor had been set up off to one side, and a Western band was playing under a huge oak tree. A dozen couples were waltzing, and just watching them made Lizzy’s heart ache.

  As planned, cowboys in jeans and white shirts and black Stetsons sat astride quarter horses that were lined up on either side of the sidewalk from the parking lot all the way to the party. Lizzy glanced at them to see if Cole was among them.

  He wasn’t.

  Joanne wore a long black dress and was playing her role as the ranch’s mistress to the hilt. She flew about, seeming to be everywhere at once, greeting first one person and then another. When Joanne saw Vanilla, she made her way graciously through the well-dressed throng to greet Lizzy. Delighted, Vanilla squealed to be taken into her grandmother’s waiting arms.

  Cole was standing at the bar talking to a pretty, predatory-looking, young redhead wearing a low-cut gown. Even though she wasn’t Suz, Lizzy quickly looked the other way.

  Without Vanilla to care for, Lizzy mingled freely with the guests and tried to stay as far from Cole as possible. But any time she accidentally caught a glimpse of him, he was surrounded by beautiful women.

  Sam found a drink for her. Her throat felt parched, but she set it down. Hawk and Walker brought her a plate of appetizers from the buffet table. Not that she could make herself eat either.

  She was as popular with the men as Cole seemed to be with the women. Not that she wanted to be. She wanted Cole. Only Cole.

  But her doubts and nagging questions had driven him away. She had to believe in him.

  Everybody wanted to talk to her about the ranch, about her father and about all the bad publicity that had been in the Texas newspapers and on television, which, of course, was the last thing she wanted to discuss.

  “Was Caesar murdered?”

  “What about Electra Scott? What’s the connection there? Were they lovers?”

  “Who’s next? I’d be careful if I were you, sweetie!”

  Lizzy was polite, if evasive. When the men asked her to dance, she demurred. Despite all the attention from men, she felt bereft because Cole ignored her.

  When Aunt Nanette arrived on the arm of a cowboy as young as her sons, Sam and Bobby Joe, and began to make a spectacle of herself on the dance floor, the men stalked abruptly into the house. Aunt Nanette, who was slim, looked far younger in her white leather pants and clingy silk shirt than her age.

  Uncle B.B. and Aunt Mona glided up to Lizzy.

  “They keep getting younger and younger,” Uncle B.B. said, his eyes on his sister.

  “Sam and Bobby Joe should be used to it by now,” Aunt Mona said. “Still, no wonder Sam lived with Caesar and Joanne all those years. Sam’s always seemed sort of lost…like he didn’t belong anywhere. And as for Bobby Joe, he can’t seem to find himself.”

  Aunt Nanette rubbed against her lover on the dance floor and Lizzy blushed. “Sam was like my own brother.”

  “You shouldn’t be trying to run the ranching operation, Lizzy,” Uncle B.B. muttered, his tone so
grim it almost sounded threatening.

  “I’ll step down just as soon as I can,” she said.

  When still another man asked to Lizzy to dance, she smiled and almost accepted just to escape Uncle B.B. and Aunt Mona, but a deep baritone behind her rocked her senses.

  “She’s with me.”

  She turned questioningly to Cole. “Am I?”

  Uncle B.B. scowled at them both. Then a dark look passed between Aunt Mona and him as they moved away to circulate.

  “Well, you damn sure didn’t look like you wanted to be with him, or your aunt and uncle,” Cole said in his sexy,

  Texas drawl as he led her away. “I always was a sucker for a damsel in distress.”

  “Which is how we met,” she said, feeling shy.

  “Do you want to dance? I think we’d better. Your new suitor is scowling at us.”

  She smiled, nodding. “I guess we have to. But there’s no way we can compete with Aunt Nanette.”

  Then Lizzy was in Cole’s arms, being whirled about on the dance floor. There were other couples besides her aunt and her new lover, and yet to Lizzy it seemed as if they were the only two people in the world.

  Her doubts had receded in importance. Nothing mattered except being with Cole. Not having him around for the past few days had made her know for sure how desperately she wanted to be with him forever.

  He was the only man she’d ever loved. No matter what had gone wrong before. No matter the risk, she had no choice but to take a chance on him. He couldn’t be the killer. She couldn’t have loved him if he was. She couldn’t stand her life without him.

  Now that she knew for certain that she couldn’t live without him, she couldn’t wait to tell him she wanted to marry him.

  “Cole, could we go somewhere to talk?”

  He looked uncertain and yet her shining eyes must have communicated what was in her heart because a new eagerness lit his dark face. “Sure.”

  He took her hand and squeezed it before bringing it to his lips.

  “Darlin’, I love you.” The warmth of his lips seeped inside her.

  “I love you, too.” She hugged him.

  “Let’s go.”

  He was leading her toward the golf cart path that led to the aviary and the greenhouse when suddenly there was an explosion directly in front of them from the direction of the barn.

  Next came yelling, screaming and utter pandemonium. She clung to Cole. Above the trees, she saw white birds soaring and flames licking the inky, star-bright sky.

  “It’s the horse barn!” Cole yelled. “And the aviary! Get back to the house. Stay close to your brothers.” Then he kissed her before taking off in a dead run for the barn and aviary.

  Twenty

  Orange flames licked the inky night, streaking it with gold. White birds whirled overhead. Cole had disappeared inside the smoke-filled inferno that had been the barn and was unlocking the stalls to free any horses that weren’t being used for the celebration and might still be inside. As heat blasted her and ashes blew toward her, Lizzy was filled with panic that he might be overcome by smoke and never get out.

  Suddenly there was an unearthly roar above the groaning and crackling of burning timbers. Then the entire south end of the barn shuddered and began to rip apart from the rest of the building.

  Explosions rocked the barn. The fire must have reached the gas cans and mowers stored at one end. Sparks shot even higher into the air.

  “Cole!”

  A horse screamed and galloped out of the barn, racing past her.

  Ringo.

  But where was Cole?

  “Cole?” She was crying his name and stumbling toward the barn when the south end collapsed in upon itself, spewing sparks high into the air.

  Dazed, Lizzy felt tears on her cheeks. When something began to vibrate against her waist, only vaguely did she realize it was her cell phone. When she picked it up, a disembodied voice said, “I’ve got Vanilla.”

  Sirens screamed in the distance.

  “Too late,” she whispered, not really knowing that she’d spoken out loud. Cole had to be dead. Nothing inside that barn could still be alive.

  “Lizzy,” the caller repeated. “I’ve got Vanilla.”

  Even as she felt cold and crazed with grief and fear, her pulse accelerated in alarm.

  It isn’t Cole. The killer isn’t Cole. Cole isn’t a Mr. Hyde. Cole is dead.

  Not that she felt any relief in that knowledge.

  “Come alone, Lizzy, or I’ll kill her.”

  Vanilla. Lizzy’s throat went dry. Vanilla was in danger.

  “Come where?” she screamed, feeling dead and hollow, backing into the shadows.

  “If you tell anyone, if anybody else comes with you, I’ll set the camp house on fire just like I did the barn. I’ll kill Vanilla just like I killed your mother and your daddy and Cherry…and Cole.”

  How did the monster already know about Cole?

  “You know I will,” he said softly.

  “Who is this?” she hissed.

  “Come and see. If you’ve got the guts, little Lizzy.”

  “Tell me who this is!”

  The caller laughed.

  “Tell me,” she begged.

  More laughter. Then the line went dead.

  “Lizzy!” Cole screamed.

  One minute, she’d been there, at the edge of the brush talking on her cell phone. In the next, she’d vanished in the smoke.

  Fire trucks whirred up and surrounded the barn. An ambulance braked, but its siren kept on screaming.

  Cole felt strange, disoriented. White birds whirled above him. Black dots danced in front of his eyes. Suddenly he knew he must’ve lost time again. He’d gone in one set of doors, but he must’ve escaped out the back. He began moving toward the trees. He’d been standing so close to the fire, he was bathed in sweat and his hands were blistered.

  But where the hell was Lizzy? It scared the hell out of him that he couldn’t find her. Had whoever set the fire done something to her?

  Firemen rushed up to him, and he went wild, trying to push past them to find Lizzy, but they grabbed him and threw him on the ground. When he fought back, it took three of them to hold him down.

  “It’s all right. You’re in shock,” one of them said.

  A man in white stuck a needle in his arm. “Breathe deeply and you’ll be fine, sir. We’re going to take good care of you. Everything is going to be all right.”

  “Let go of me! Let go! Let go! Lizzy—”

  But Lizzy was gone.

  Had he hurt her?

  The black dots thickened in front of Cole’s eyes until they blinded him.

  The last face he saw was Uncle B.B.’ s.

  “We’ve got to save Lizzy,” Cole said. Then total darkness.

  It’s Uncle B.B., he thought.

  Lizzy drew a swift breath as she parked on the road a quarter of a mile shy of the camp house. Then she tucked her loaded revolver into her waistband and got out, climbed a fence and snuck through brush country to the camp. Her black outfit concealed her. She was drenched in sweat and so terrified that whenever a leaf rustled, or a twig broke, or a frog croaked, her heart leapt into her throat and she sank to a crouch. The gun felt heavy and alien against her spine, but the thought of Vanilla in mortal danger was enough to keep her going.

  I can do this. I can do this. I’m Caesar’s daughter. And Electra’s, too. I’ve got my gun. I’m scared, but I’m strong.

  When she finally reached the camp house, all the lights were blazing. For a long moment she stayed in the brush and watched the house, wondering what to do. Then she heard Vanilla’s music box start playing softly in the same unit where she and Cole had made love such a short time ago.

  Keeping well inside the brush line, she crept closer to the camp house. Through a window she could see that a baby bed had been set up, and a blanket had been thrown over it. The blanket was tented as if a child stood there.

  “Vanilla!”

  When
Lizzy raced onto the veranda and then inside the room, the door, as if caught by the wind, slammed behind her. When she ripped the blanket off the crib, the last thing she saw before the lights went out was a stick of wood on the pillow instead of Vanilla.

  The baby wasn’t in the crib.

  “Vanilla!” she screamed as an explosion shook the building.

  She sank to the floor in the suffocating darkness. Holding her breath, she crawled to the door and waited.

  Where was Vanilla? She had to get out. She had to find her, and yet she was afraid of what she’d find on the other side of the door.

  When the doorknob rattled she wanted to scream but then covered her mouth with her hand. Someone was out there in that blackness. Her mother’s killer? Her father’s? She felt crazed with grief and fear.

  Again she saw Star’s carcass on the flatbed truck. Again she saw the barn roof collapse and knew Cole was inside.

  In the absolute stillness that followed, she raised her pistol and took aim.

  “Don’t shoot,” a voice said.

  “Who?” Her hand holding the gun shook uncontrollably.

  When the door slammed open and struck the gun, she accidentally pulled the trigger.

  She heard a burst of fiendish laughter.

  Then a tall, broad-shouldered figure toppled toward her, and the lights came back on.

  His arms outstretched, Cole lay in a pool of blood at her feet.

  “Cole.” Horrified, she knelt beside him. “It was you. All the time it was you.”

  Surprised she felt no revulsion toward him, she touched his thick black hair. “I—I can’t believe it was you.” It made sense, of course. He’d hated them. All he’d ever wanted was revenge. He’d probably blacked out again. But she didn’t believe it, not really.

  “Lizzy, are you all right?”

  She looked up as Sam entered the room and ran toward her.

  She felt exhausted and defeated. It was wonderful to have someone to lean on. “Sam? Thank God, you’re here. I shot him. I shot Cole!” Hot tears burned her eyes. “Cole couldn’t have done it! He couldn’t have!”

  “Uncle B.B. sent me. I saw your car and Cole’s truck in the brush. Vanilla’s in Cole’s truck asleep. She sure as hell looks zonked. He must have drugged her. Lizzy, what’s going on? I got a call on my cell phone and was told to come here or else. There’s a fire at the end of the camp house.”