Can't Stop Believing (HARMONY) (3 page)

M
C
D
OWELL
F
ARM

F
ROM
THE
SHADE
OF
HIS
PORCH
, C
ORD
M
C
D
OWELL
WATCHED
the road with mounting anger. His neighbor, Nevada Britain, was driving up his dirt drive like she was drag racing. The little Jeep he’d spent hours working on left a half-mile trail of dirt behind as it roared toward him.

He knew the second she spotted him. She slowed and he wondered if she was surprised to see him home before dark. There were always a dozen chores on the farm he needed to get to even after he stopped plowing. Only tomorrow morning he wanted to be at the bank when it opened, so he’d come in early. After three years of saving every dime he could, he was still five thousand short on paying off the loan he’d gotten the week he’d walked out of prison. Some said no one would give a convict a loan, but the bank hadn’t hesitated when he put up his farm as collateral. If he couldn’t pay, they’d make twenty to one on their money.

He’d dress in his best jeans and head for town at first light, hoping they’d give him three more months to pay. One more season. Then, if it rained and the bugs didn’t find his spring crop and the tractor held out, he might be able to come up with the money. Swearing under his breath, he watched Nevada come closer, feeling like he was Moses waiting for the next plague to strike.

Cord shoved what money he planned to pay on the loan deeper into his pocket and watched his beautiful, spoiled, selfish neighbor approach. Whitaker had been the one to hand her the keys after the Jeep had been repaired, and she hadn’t even bothered to walk to where Cord worked in the garage to thank him.

There was little hope that she’d driven over after three days to say thanks, so Cord figured he must have done something wrong. Hell, she’d probably come to threaten to sue him for stirring up too much dirt while he plowed too near her fence line.

He watched her stop halfway between his barn and his parents’ old house and look around as she climbed out. He hadn’t had the time or the money to fix up the place, but right now it seemed to look worse than he thought. Imagining his farm through her eyes made him wish for more hours in the day, more days in the week, more time, period. Then he could have painted the barn, fixed up the fence, replaced the steps.

Only it was too late to worry about it now.

She was dressed western from her red boots to her leather vest. If some women are shiny-penny pretty, Nevada was silver-dollar beautiful.

Near as he could remember, he’d watched her every chance he’d gotten since the day she was born. They’d gone to school together, ridden the same bus home a few times when her mom didn’t pick her up, and then in the fifth grade she’d disappeared. She’d gone away to school and he’d only seen her riding her horses now and then during vacations. When her dad let her start driving, even though she was a year away from being legal, everyone on Sunset Road tried to stay out of her way.

Fighting down a grin, Cord remembered the half dozen cars she’d wrecked before she got driving down pat. One she’d rolled in the drainage ditch. Her parents had left it there a month, probably just to make her pass it every time she went to town. He doubted the lesson had taken.

Pulling off her sunglasses, she tossed her long blond hair back like it was a mane and she was ready to run. He liked the way she moved, all fast and headstrong, like she owned the world—and, as near as he could tell, her family did. Talk was that when her parents died her brother, Barrett Britain, cleaned out the family bank accounts and bought a villa in France. He left her with the ranch and the oil business, saying the next time he came to Texas he’d be in a pine box. She’d taken over everything, and as she walked toward Cord, he realized he didn’t even know how to talk to her.

“You’re home,” she said, as she stormed the porch with a large envelope in one hand and her hat in the other.

“Yep,” he said without explaining, knowing it would irritate her. He wasn’t disappointed.

She glared at him, as if considering turning around and leaving.

If he wanted her to stay, even a minute, he’d better think of something. “Why are you here, Nevada? Looks like the Jeep is still running.”

She surprised him by saying, “I was in a hurry the other day or I would have stopped in to say thanks. You got it running better than I ever remember.”

“Guess I should be glad you didn’t bring the sheriff.” She’d called in a complaint two years ago and he’d almost been fined. If the sheriff had sent deputies, he’d have been cuffed and hauled in before they even bothered to ask questions. Every lawman in the county except Sheriff Alexandra Matheson had dropped by to warn Cord that they’d be watching him. Alexandra wasn’t friendly, but he guessed she was fair. She’d asked questions first.

“I can’t believe you’re still upset about that. If I hadn’t sent the sheriff, you know you wouldn’t have listened to me, Cord. I left three messages on your phone before I called Sheriff Matheson. You can’t just go flying that old plane around over my land. It stampeded my horses.”

“I don’t answer my phone.” He shrugged, accepting an ounce of the blame.

Before he could step back into their two-year-old feud, she stopped him with an open palm like she was a crossing guard for his front porch.

“I didn’t drive out here to talk about that. I came to ask a favor.”

Every drop of anger and frustration went out of him even though he didn’t move an inch. “A favor?” The Britains had never asked the McDowells for anything in three generations. His grandfather said once that they started out with bad blood over the boundary between the two ranches, and the wound it left would take a hundred years to heal.

“I’m not selling,” he said, the first thought that came to his mind. She could probably already smell blood in the water, but he’d lose to the bank before he’d sell to her.

“I’m not asking,” she snapped, none too friendly for a woman asking for a favor.

He remembered a time when she’d been home for Christmas break when they were in high school. He asked her for a date and she’d turned him down so fast it took him several heartbeats for his mind to catch up with his ears. They’d both changed a great deal in ten years. She’d grown from a skinny girl to a beautiful woman, and he’d turned into stone. Even now, if he’d been brave or wild enough to pull her against him, she’d feel no heart. Any kindness, any caring, had been beat out of him in Huntsville.

She straightened, all proper. “What I’m offering is a business deal that could benefit us both.”

“I’m not interested in doing business with a Britain, and I’m fresh out of favors.” He looked down at her and was surprised to find that she wasn’t looking at him. He’d always pictured her as straightforward and demanding, a queen in her realm. Now he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t know her well enough to be able to tell if she was being shy or simply taking a moment to plan her strategy.

He’d watched her drive past his land. He’d seen her in town a few times, but they’d never been close enough to speak. Two years ago she’d called the sheriff on him. She hadn’t even given him time to tell her he’d been having engine trouble and was flying low, praying he’d make it to his land before he crashed the plane.

Her hands tightened into fists, and she slowly raised her head. “I knew I’d be wasting my time coming over here. Since you went to prison, everyone says you’ve been nothing but mean. You don’t have a friend in this world, Cord McDowell, and as near as I can see, you never will. You live out on this dry, worthless land and work all day seven days a week and for what? So you can die alone? I’ll probably be the one who finds the body and has to see about the funeral, and I don’t like you, either. If you weren’t my last choice, I wouldn’t be here, so you’re going to have to listen to me for a minute before I leave and never step on your land again.”

Cord felt a lecture coming on, so he sat down in one of the metal chairs that had been spray-painted a dozen times. While she paced, planning her next attack, he studied her. Watching Nevada storm was better than watching anything on TV.

Finally, she stopped and placed the envelope she’d carried onto the porch railing. “I came all this way and I’d like you to at least consider my offer. What I have to say is too important to give up on.”

“All right,” he said, knowing he wasn’t buying or selling, but listening he could afford.

She stared out at the open land as she lowered her voice to almost a whisper. “I can’t explain any of the why, so don’t ask. Just hear me out and then say yes or no.”

“Fair enough.” He propped his long legs on the railing beside the manila envelope. “Tell me, Miss Britain, why’d you come out here?”

“I’m prepared to offer you the three hundred acres of my land that borders your land.”

“In exchange for what?” Cord knew, as well as she did probably, that she was offering him the same plot of land their great-grandfathers had fought over. “I fear the price may be more than I can afford.” The rich land was worth more than his farm, and he doubted the five hundred in his pocket would buy more than a few rocks.

For the first time she didn’t look sure of herself, but she plowed forward. “I can’t tell you why, but I promise you there will be no disadvantage to you. I’ll sign the deed over to you when we’re at the courthouse and our bargain is sealed. The land will be yours free and clear from that time on.”

He frowned as he rocked back in his chair. “What’s my part of the bargain?”

“Your name,” she said simply. “The land is yours if you’ll marry me and agree to live on my ranch for as long as we’re married. I think eight months should about do it. That should be enough time to get a crop in, increase the herd and stock for winter.”

The front two legs of his chair hit the floor. “I’m sorry; I thought I just heard you ask me to marry you?”

She looked down. “I told you I can’t explain, but I’ve had my lawyer draw up a prenuptial agreement. Your land will remain yours, along with the three hundred acres, when we separate. Mine will remain mine, along with all Britain holdings.” She squared her shoulders as if preparing to fight. “All I’m asking for is eight months. From now until the first hard freeze should do it. After that either of us can file for divorce and, as stated in the prenup, we both agree not to contest the divorce. All profits from both ranches will be combined for the length of the marriage and split evenly when we separate.”

Cord felt like laughing out loud for the first time in years. Ideas this crazy only appear in jokes, or con schemes. Just for the hell of it, he asked, “What makes you think we’ll separate?”

“I’ve been married three times before, and all three cost me dearly. This time I’ll know the price going in. If you want, you can have total control of the farming and ranching on both places, but anything dealing with the horses or the oil business is mine. It’s part of the agreement. I’ll hand over the ranch business and accounts to you and trust you to run them wisely, since half of the profit for the term we’re married will be yours. The horses are not part of the bargain, and no one can sell them or move them without my permission. I’ve seen the way you work, the way you run this place, and I think you’d be able to handle both my land and yours.”

“What else?” He knew she was either crazy or trying to pull one over on him, but he’d hear her out.

“You’ll have to quit your day job at Parker Trucking, but when we split, half of my ranch’s income should compensate you for the loss of wages.”

“What does your spread pull down?”

“A quarter million in profit on a down year when the ranch is worked. Since my dad got sick and died it hasn’t been worked. If all goes well, we clear over half a million on a good year. The ranch is in my name only, so I can bargain with it and I’ve got enough funds to make it work.”

He would have tried to look disappointed, but his jaw was open too far to fake it. She’d just offered him nearly a quarter of a million to stay married to her for eight months.

This had to be some kind of sick joke. She was playing a game, probably. “Why should I believe a word you’ve said?”

“Look at the agreement,” she said as her fingers tapped the envelope. “Talk to your lawyers, then let me know what you decide. The only thing I ask is that we keep this agreement to ourselves. As far as everyone knows, you’re just the next man I fell in love with and brought home. Most folks won’t ask any questions.”

“Are you crazy, lady?” He had to ask, though it occurred to him that either way she’d answer no.

“Don’t call me lady or honey, or darling, or babe—”

“Got it.” He stopped her before she went on. “You’re not dying, are you?” It was the only reason he could think of that a woman like her would want to marry him. She might still die, but maybe she figured being married to him would make the time she had left seem longer.

“I said I wasn’t answering questions, Cord, so don’t bother asking. It’s yes or no.” She turned to leave. “I’ll be at the courthouse all morning. If you show up before noon, the deal is on; if not, don’t bother ever speaking to me again.”