How to Wrangle a Cowboy (11 page)

As the nearby cowboys chuckled, Shane found himself wondering what kind of man made a woman ditch her dog and her child before he’d have her. And what kind of woman would want a man like that?

Taking Cody’s hand, he headed for the exit. He couldn’t talk to Grace right now, or to Lindsey. He was afraid he’d say something rude, and he couldn’t afford to alienate the new owner—his new boss.

All he could do was pray she’d take her pretty face and sweet Southern drawl back to Charleston and become one of those absentee owners, leaving him to run the Lazy Q.

He’d be happy to send her a big fat check every quarter, as long as she stayed away.

Chapter 13

Lindsey stood, a bit unsteadily, and took Grace’s hand. She wasn’t sure who was helping whom as they made their way toward the door. Most of the cowboys and ranchers were gone, but John Alvarez gallantly took her grandmother’s hand when they reached the exit.

“Let me treat you to a spot of lunch,” he said. “For old times’ sake.”

While the old man distracted her grandmother, his daughter cracked open her office door and motioned for Lindsey to join her. There must be issues to discuss—legal, financial, and personal. Lindsey already felt dizzy, but she’d have to get serious now. The ranch was a huge responsibility, and she was determined to be worthy of Bud’s trust.

In contrast to her father’s book-lined study, Adriana’s office was a small, drab room that smelled strongly of new carpet and disinfectant. It contained a computer, a cheap desk and chair that appeared to be Cold War–era government surplus, an orange plastic patio chair for clients, and a U-Build-It bookcase crammed with legal texts and overstuffed folders. It also boasted a stunning mural made of handprints cut from colorful scraps of tissue paper. The hands overlaid each other at various angles, and the result was bright and welcoming, as if the wall was waving hello.

“That’s gorgeous,” Lindsey said, nodding toward the mural.

“My little girl,” Adie said. “Eight years old.”

“Wow.” Lindsey was genuinely impressed. “She has a great sense of color and balance.”

“She’s a genius.” Adie smiled, wrinkling her nose to show she was joking, and folded her hands on the desk as Lindsey settled into the orange chair with a smile and a nod.

“Quite a day for you, huh?” Adriana perched on the edge of her desk and crossed her legs, letting the back of one high-heeled pump slip from her foot. She swung the leg back and forth, back and forth, the shoe dangling, perilously close to falling. “I bet you weren’t expecting this.”

“No, not at all.”

“Bud said you’d need help getting adjusted, and my dad and I want you to know we’re here for you, no matter what happens.”

“Well, thanks.” Lindsey let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob. “I’m so stunned by all this that I can’t even imagine what kind of things I might have to deal with. I’m glad I have people I trust on my side.”

“You sure do.”

Dumping her professional demeanor, Adriana bent down and gave Lindsey an affectionate hug.

“You can call me Adie,” she said. “It looks like you’re going to get to know me pretty well.”

“Good. That’s…” Lindsey paused when she saw Adie’s expression. She looked serious—too serious. “What do you mean? Did something happen?”

Adie pulled a piece of paper from her desk and held it out. Lindsey’s hands shook as she took it.

It was a sheet of ordinary typing paper, crisscrossed with dirty creases as if someone had read it many times, then folded it with grubby fingers and shoved it into a back pocket. It looked more like a sixth grader’s careless social studies homework than an important legal document, but Lindsey opened it to find the letterhead of a Denver lawyer gracing the top.

As she read, she could feel the blood draining from her face. She set the paper on the desk and backed away as if it was a snake.

Avoiding Adie’s gaze, she folded her arms over her chest to control the shaking of her hands and stared down at the floor. Rage, bitterness, frustration, and worry warred for supremacy in her whirling, churning brain. If she dared to speak, she was liable to shout her stunned surprise. Her dismay. Her anger.

Finally, she collected her thoughts. “It’s from that man, isn’t it? The one who looks like Bud.”

Adie nodded. “You noticed him?”

“How could I miss him? He looks so much like my grandfather. But obviously he’s nothing like him.” She barked out a hollow laugh. “He’s the anti-Bud.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Aren’t you supposed to figure that out?” Lindsey fluttered one hand in the air in an effort to wave the words away as soon as she said them. “Oh, I know. You’re a lawyer, not a miracle worker. It’s just—I can’t think straight.”

“That’s understandable.” Adie sat down behind her desk and slipped back into her lawyer persona. “Do you believe him?”

“How could I not?” Lindsey paced from one side of the office to the other, then stopped to examine the handprint mural. It was a blur, viewed through a hazy scrim of tears. “He looks just like my grandfather. I knew he had to be a relative. I just didn’t expect him to be such a close one.”

“No, I can see where that would be a surprise.”

Lindsey spun from the mural, clenching her fists. “How
could
he, Adie? How could my grandfather
ever
cheat on Grace? They loved each other so much. Or I thought they did.” She slumped into the plastic chair and touched her forehead with her fingers, as if that could clear her thoughts. “The longer I live, the more I realize fairy tales don’t come true. But I thought sometimes, like for Bud and Grace…”

Her voice trailed away in something very like a sob, but she swallowed it and went on. “When my ex-husband turned out to be a lying, cheating jerk, I still had faith that there were good men in the world because of my grandfather. I was so sorry he died before I could tell him what that meant to me.” Her tone turned bitter. “Maybe it’s just as well.”

“We’re all human,” Adie said softly. “Maybe there was some explanation.”

“How do you explain a child? A
child.
And he refused to claim him.” Lindsey gestured toward the letter. “Refused to support him, just so Grace wouldn’t know.”

“I know it’s hard to process.” Adie leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. “But we need to focus on the practical repercussions. He wants a share of the ranch.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Lindsey shook her head. “I’d like to hate him, but I can’t even imagine how it would feel, knowing your father had millions and you and your mother had nothing.”

“So you don’t question his claim.”

Lindsey pictured the man she now knew to be William Ward, Bud’s illegitimate son, and shook her head. “No. I guess not.”

“Okay.” Adie slipped on a pair of black-framed glasses that made her look infinitely more lawyerly. “Then we should probably count our blessings. If we don’t settle, he’ll probably take us to court, and that could end badly. What he’s asking for is actually fairly reasonable.”

“Reasonable?” Lindsey hated the shrillness of her voice, but she couldn’t help herself. “Two hundred thousand dollars is
reasonable
?”

“If he’s really your grandfather’s son, he could argue he’s entitled to the entire estate.” She paused. “In fact, I’d be very careful in the months to come, while things get straightened out. I get the impression William Ward is not a nice man.”

“What do you mean?”

Adie looked away and shrugged. “It’s just a feeling I have. Be careful, okay? Watch for anything strange around the place, and stay safe.”

“Great.” Lindsey pictured the anti-Bud and realized Adie was right. He had a mean look about him, the look of a man who couldn’t be trusted.

“We’ll want to get him taken care of as fast as possible,” Adie said.

“I agree, but it’s going to take me a while to come up with the money.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry.” Adie dared to smile. “The place is amazing. It’ll sell fast.”

Lindsey straightened in her chair. “I’m not selling.”

“You’re planning to keep it?”

“At least while Grace is alive. It’s her home.”

Adie tapped a pencil on the table and frowned. “I thought you’d want to sell. It’s a lot to take on.” She brightened. “You can probably get a loan. The ranch is highly profitable, according to my dad.”

Lindsey shook her head miserably. “I’m up to my elbows in debt. My ex pulled back the financing that started my vet clinic when I left him. I never would have taken on that kind of debt on my own, so it’s been a challenge to make the payments. I’ve managed to hang on, but I had to renegotiate with the bank twice. My credit’s right on the edge.”

“Oh.” Adie’s flat, lifeless tone said it all. “Look, you’ve got to do something. If he doesn’t get what he wants, he says he’ll go to Grace and tell her the whole sordid story.”

Lindsey couldn’t help flinching at the thought of the pain Grace would suffer if she knew Bud had cheated. She couldn’t let that happen.

So this was the end. In one hour, she’d gone from veterinarian to heiress and back again. It was enough to make a woman dizzy.

And sad—so sad for Grace.

Oh, Grace.

Her grandmother had given up a promising film career for Bud. His love had sustained her through the deaths of three children and the challenges of upending her lifestyle from one of excess and luxury to one of hard work and sacrifice. She’d believed their romance to be one of Hollywood’s greatest fairy tales, complete with a happy ending.

But if Bud had cheated, the fairy tale was a sham. And Lindsey was sure her lively, loving grandmother would fade away into a shadow if she ever found out her beloved husband was anything less than the prince she’d believed him to be.

She would never, ever let that happen. She didn’t care about being an heiress; she cared about Grace.

This was one secret that had to be kept, no matter what the cost.

Chapter 14

Lindsey dipped a cookie into a glass of milk and held it there, counting softly to herself.

One potato, two…

She pulled out the cookie and bit into it. Perfect.

“It’s funny how some things stay with you,” she said.

Grace’s smile was knowing and playful. “Like still loving milk-and-cookie parties on the porch, the way you did when you were little?”

Lindsey laughed. “Like still loving your homemade molasses cookies, and knowing exactly how long to dip them in milk to make them even more scrumptious.”

It was the day after the reading of the will, and Lindsey was doing her best to relax on the white-painted swing while Grace half reclined on a wicker love seat. Together, they watched the sun retreat to its nightly hiding place behind the distant mountains.

Lindsey finished off the first cookie, then dipped another, doing the same silent count. As she treasured one of the favorite flavors of her childhood, she scanned the pastures that surrounded the house—green-and-gold carpets broken by rock formations the elements had honed into strange shapes. Lindsey had named them as a child—the frog rock, the hippo rock, the ogre—and she’d been dreaming about them the night Bud died. They’d come to life, marching across the pasture. She’d been standing in the middle, and as they’d come closer and closer, she’d realized they were going to come together and crush her. She’d woken with a little scream.

Hours later, the phone had rung, and she’d talked to her grandmother for the first time in years.

Now she and Grace sat together on the porch as if nothing had changed. Milk and cookies had always been an all-girl event, so they missed Bud less keenly.

But things
had
changed. The ranch belonged to Lindsey now, and her image of her grandfather had been shattered by the revelations of William Ward’s letter. She needed to control the conversation, or her grandmother was liable to start reminiscing about Bud and their fairy-tale love. Lindsey simply wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

“I love this late-afternoon light,” she said.

“Oh, I know.” Grace swept one hand toward the landscape. “Everything is golden. And look how sharp the edges are! You can see every leaf, every blade of grass.”

“I’ve missed this. Somehow, the light doesn’t matter so much in the city.”

“It only matters when it touches things you love.”

Grace’s blue eyes drank in the landscape as if thirsty for its cool, eternal beauty. What would happen to her if the ranch was taken away? A part of her would wither and die. Maybe all of her.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Lindsey started and realized she’d been staring at her grandmother, who was giving her a teasing smile.

“Or is that five dollars now, with inflation and all?”

“My thoughts aren’t worth a thing,” Lindsey said. “I’m still trying to figure out what Granddad was thinking when he left me this place.”

“Oh, I don’t know. You used to have all sorts of plans, didn’t you?” There was that knowing smile again. “Maybe he meant for you to resurrect your dreams.”

Lindsey sighed. “I gave up on those a long time ago.” Noticing a quick, sharp look from her grandmother, she straightened. “Not gave up, really. I just charted a new course. It’s not dreams that get you where you want to go; it’s goals. Plans. Strategies.”

Grace cocked her head, birdlike, and gave Lindsey a curious look. “Who told you that?”

Lindsey looked down at her hands, twisting them in her lap. “Rodger.”

“I figured. He took all the dreams out of you, didn’t he?”

Lindsey paused, then nodded slowly.

“Bud was afraid he’d do that.”

“He was right.” She reached over and squeezed her grandmother’s hand. “I wish I could tell him. I wish I hadn’t waited so long.”

“Don’t worry about that. He always knew you’d be back.” Grace smiled. “We talked about you all the time.”

Lindsey set the porch swing to swaying with the toe of one bare foot. The two of them sipped in silence for a while before Grace reached over and stopped Lindsey’s swing.

“What happened, dear?” Her gaze was fixed on Lindsey’s face, her eyes filled with compassion. “You don’t have to tell me. But you can if you want to.”