How to Wrangle a Cowboy (30 page)

Adie put a finger to her lips and looked up at the ceiling. “I wonder where he gets his money.”

“I think he’s running a puppy mill.”

“A what?”

“A puppy mill. You know, breeding dogs.”

“It would take a lot of puppies to pay for that land. There’s got to be something else. Connie says he has big plans for it.”

Whatever Brockman had planned, Lindsey was sure her grandfather wouldn’t have approved. There had been very few men he’d disliked, but Ed Brockman headed the list.

Lindsey sighed and paced the length of the tiny office, then paused and faced Adie.

“If I let this go to court, what are the chances a judge would rule in William Ward’s favor?”

“Pretty darn good. He claims Bud never gave his mother a dime, never acknowledged him in any way. He comes across as the aggrieved party, especially since his mother died of breast cancer because she couldn’t afford treatment.”

Lindsey, who’d started pacing again, spun around. “There.” She jabbed a finger at Adie. “That.”

“What?”

“He has to be lying. Don’t you see? Bud would never let that happen.” She paced to the other side of the room. “Maybe my granddad cheated. I don’t know. But if he did, he still wasn’t cruel, and he wasn’t selfish. He’d have found a way to help.” She felt suddenly sure of herself. “Let’s call William Ward’s bluff, Adie. I think he’s lying. And if he’s not—well, I’m willing to take that chance.”

Adriana crossed her legs and stared up at the ceiling. She was quiet for so long, Lindsey thought she might have fallen asleep, but finally, she rose and began pacing around the room.

“Calling his bluff means telling your grandmother.”

Lindsey slumped down into the chair again, resting her head on her hand.

“But I think you’re right.” Adie seemed to have caught Lindsey’s excitement. “If this guy is really Bud’s son, he’s possibly entitled to the whole ranch. Why doesn’t he just step up and sue for it?” She came out from behind the desk and knelt beside Lindsey. “Look, you knew your grandfather, and you can’t seem to believe he’d do this. So call his bluff. You’ll get to the truth, and that’s always the best way to go.”

“You’re right.” Lindsey thought of Grace, of the mists that had fogged her eyes lately, and of how clear and blue those eyes used to be, like a crystalline sky on a snowy day. Maybe finding out the truth, whatever it was, would snap her out of her grief and bring her back.

It was worth a try.

She took a deep breath, bringing a fist to her chest for courage.

“I’m doing it. I’m telling her.”

“Good for you.” Adie clapped her hands. “It’s the right thing to do.”

The two of them passed through the outer office, where Adie’s father was now seated behind the big desk. Lindsey gave him a nod and a smile, then turned back to Adie.

“I just hope all this doesn’t give Grace a heart attack.”

“Who, your grandmother?” Adie’s dad shook his head, dismissing the possibility. “I don’t know what news you’re talking about, but don’t worry about Grace keeling over.” He chuckled. “She might look like a delicate flower, but that woman’s stronger than a steer wrestler on steroids. She had to be, to love your granddad the way she did.” His eyes misted over slightly, making Lindsey wonder if he hadn’t been just a little in love with Grace himself.

“And he loved her too, right?” Lindsey said. She knew it was a stupid question, but she needed the confirmation.

“He used to say the sun rose and set in her eyes.” He gave Adie a strict, fatherly look. “What’s Lindsey doing here, anyway? Bud’s estate was simple as could be. You ought to be done with it by now.”

Only then did Lindsey realize how seriously Adie took attorney/client privilege. She hadn’t even told her father about William Ward.

The realization warmed her heart. She’d hate for her grandfather’s old friend to see Bud in this new and unflattering light. Whatever had happened, it would remain a secret—between her, her lawyer, and now Grace.

“We’ve gotten to be friends.” She smiled her thanks at Adie, who smiled back. “She’s more than a lawyer.”

So she would follow Adie’s advice and take her grandmother out to lunch, do a little shopping. Then they’d talk this through. Grace might be dreamy and misty-eyed most of the time, but there was a part of her that was strong as forged steel. Lindsey would find that part of her grandmother, and the two of them would find a solution together. They had to.

“You’ll be fine,” Adie said, as her father went back to his reading. “I think your grandmother will surprise you.”

“She usually does.” Lindsey smiled. “That’s one thing I can always count on.”

Chapter 37

Lindsey normally enjoyed shopping with Grace, but a mild tension headache grew into a real thumper as the day progressed. Her secret seemed to grow in size and importance with every dress Grace tried on, every smile she gave Lindsey over jewelry and purses and hose. How long would her grandmother’s eyes have that carefree twinkle? By the time they reached the Red Dawg, Lindsey had worried so much she was numb.

Lindsey had been to the Red Dawg with her granddad a dozen times, back when she was a kid. He’d scan the parking lot as they drove past and make a sudden turn into the lot when he spotted a pickup he recognized. She’d sit beside him at the bar, sipping a ginger ale and feeling very grown up while he chatted with a neighbor.

Back then, the place was loaded with genuine Wyoming character, and much of it remained. Rough-hewn rafters spanned the ceiling, providing footing for glassy-eyed critters ranging from a prowling cougar to a nimbly balanced mountain goat. A flock of ducks was forever stilled in flight over the pool table, and the ubiquitous Wyoming jackalope sat behind the bar. At the front door, an enormous bear stood on its hind legs, an effective bouncer for anyone drunk enough to believe he was real.

The place had changed hands since then, and the new owners had brought in even more dead critters, along with a lot more customers. They’d put up a sign featuring two broad-butted, red-necked cowboys on bar stools, and increased the menu to include everything from all-American steak dinners to french-fried frogs’ legs. They allowed smoking, which was outlawed in restaurants in Cheyenne and Casper, so city folks who still wanted a little tar and nicotine with their dinner flocked there in droves.

Lindsey was glad to see the place thriving, but somehow, the decorative elements that had once proven the place’s Western authenticity had been transformed into kitsch by the mere presence of tourists. As Lindsey and Grace entered, a group of women dressed like Junior Leaguers sat in one corner, staring at the taxidermy as if they’d never seen a live animal before, let alone a dead one. At a center table, a family struggled to hush an obstreperous two-year-old who kept shouting “Duck! Duck!” and pointing at the pool table.

A few middle-aged men decked out in brown-and-gold University of Wyoming gear sat at the bar, along with some locals—retired ranchers with big hats and no more cattle to herd. They reminisced about the old days and flirted recklessly with the dark-haired barmaid.

The ranchers transferred their flirting to Grace when she entered, and it took Lindsey a while to steer her grandmother to a table in front of the window, where they could talk without being overheard. Lindsey’s heart skipped and skidded, tossing and tumbling in her chest to a wild, unruly beat. She needed to orchestrate this conversation carefully, but she had a terrible feeling that the story of William Ward was liable to shoot out of her mouth by accident, like a bullet from a dropped gun.

She busied herself unwrapping her silverware from her paper napkin. Catching Grace’s eye, she made her spoon and fork do an elaborate dance together, complete with do-si-dos and pirouettes. Grace clapped, but her bright eyes didn’t miss a thing.

“All right,” she said once the flatware had taken its bows. “Spill it, girlie. I know something’s up.”

Lindsey started out slow. “Why do you think Bud left me the ranch?”

Grace gave a drama-queen shrug and rolled her eyes. “Who else would he leave it to? You’re his favorite granddaughter and his only heir.”

His only heir.
There was an opening there, but Lindsey wasn’t ready to take it. “What about you?”

“He was just skipping a step, dear. It was always going to be yours. There’s no one else.”

Another opening.
There’s no one else.

Deep down, Lindsey had been hoping that her grandmother knew about William Ward, and they could have a good laugh over keeping the same secret from each other in a mix-up worthy of a screwball comedy. But it was starting to seem like nothing was going to make this easy.

The bartender appeared beside their table, order pad in hand. “What can I getcha to drink?”

“Iced tea,” Grace said.

“Diet Coke.” Lindsey was grateful for the interruption, and made the most of it by studying her menu as if the fate of the Western world depended on her choice of a Rip Roarin’ Pulled Pork Bar-B-Q Sandwich or a Cowboy Burger Deluxe with Bootstrap Onions.

Meanwhile, Grace didn’t even open her menu. She was too busy staring across the table at Lindsey, a bemused smile playing across her delicate features.

“I think what Bud intended was to make you happy,” she said. “But it doesn’t seem like he succeeded.”

“Oh, I am happy, and grateful.” Lindsey set down her menu, feeling fairly certain she wanted the hamburger. “It’s just such a big responsibility, and I want to do the right thing.”

“Do what you want. It’s yours. Sell it, keep it, raise wild African monkeys…”

The waitress returned with their drinks. “You need more time?”

Yes
, Lindsey thought.
I need all day. All month. All year.

But Grace was already ordering a BLT, so Lindsey decided on the pulled pork.

“What about your job in Charleston?” Grace asked once the waitress left. “It seems like that would be a factor. Do you want to keep it? Are you happy there?”

“I don’t know,” Lindsey said. “We’re doing well. Our client roster’s growing really fast. We’re even thinking about bringing in another vet.” She smiled. “Rodger didn’t think I’d make it without his money, but I’ve hardly noticed he’s gone. I don’t have much cash on hand, but I’m paying the bills.”

“I didn’t ask if you were making money. I asked if you were happy.”

Lindsey folded her napkin in half, then in half again. “It’s good. I know I’m lucky to have my own practice.”

“Stop shoulding on yourself,” Grace said.

Lindsey nearly choked on her Diet Coke. “What?”

“You’re shoulding on yourself. You
should
be grateful. You
should
do what Bud would want you to do. And you still can’t talk about your practice, the practice
you own
, without mentioning Rodger.” Grace shook a pointed finger as only a grandmother could. “The only person you need to please is yourself. Nobody runs your life but
you
.”

Lindsey felt a warning heat behind her eyes. Tears filled them before she could regain control, and she swiped at them with her napkin.

“Someone’s always running my life.” She thought of William Ward. “Nothing’s ever easy.”

“It might be, if you’d trust people, let them help you.” The smile returned, along with the twinkle. “Like maybe your old grandmother. You might be surprised at the things she knows.”

There it was. Another way into the topic she’d been dreading.

Lindsey took a deep breath and prepared to tell the truth.

It was probably the hardest thing she’d ever done.

Chapter 38

Lindsey reached across the table and took her grandmother’s hands. Taking a deep breath, she let out the difficult truth she’d been hiding so long, releasing it in a torrent of tumbling words.

“Grandma, you said you know things, but do you know about William Ward? He says he was grandpa’s—grandpa’s son.” A surge of emotion billowed from her heart and nearly choked her. “I’m so sorry, Grace. I didn’t want to tell you, but he wants a piece of the ranch. Well, actually, he wants money, but he says he’ll contest the will if I don’t scrape up enough cash to buy him out.” Confronted with her grandmother’s innocent, questioning eyes, her confidence in her grandfather waned. “Maybe Granddad made a mistake. I know he loved you.
You
know he loved you. But men…” She flapped her hands uselessly. “Men are—I don’t know.”

Amazingly, Grace was still smiling. “No, dear. Bud’s only child was your mother. There was no son, except…”

Remembering the two small stones in the graveyard, Lindsey’s surge of grief nearly swept her away. Grace rarely spoke of the stillborn son she’d had, or the infant daughter who’d died.

“Oh, Grandma.” She was crying for real now. “I’m so sorry. I know it’s hard to hear it, but this guy was at the funeral. He looks just like Grandpa. Just like him.”

Stop talking, just stop talking
, she told herself.
You’re making a mess of this. Just stop.

But her traitorous mouth babbled on, fed by her idiot brain.

“He says he didn’t know who his father was for most of his life. But sometimes his mother would have money, and she said his father sent it. He found a whole boxful of envelopes when she died, all from Bud. Notes, saying he wanted him to go to school, things like that.” She bit down on her lower lip and closed her eyes tight. She hadn’t meant for it to be this way—so quick, so brutal.

But did it really matter how your heart got broken? It could be shredded bit by bit, or smashed to smithereens with a hammer. The end result would be the same.

She opened her eyes, expecting to see her grandmother dissolving in tears. Instead, Grace’s blue eyes were twinkling as if this was all a good joke.

“Oh, Lindsey.” She stretched her hands across the table and Lindsey took them in her own. The old woman’s skin felt dry and fragile, yet Lindsey clung to those old hands as if they were the only lifeboat in a tempest-tossed sea. “You’ve been hiding this secret all this time, haven’t you? Agonizing over it, and trying to solve the problem all by yourself.”