She moved through the living area, decorated in scarlets and golds, into a kitchen so white it was like being snow-blinded. As usual, there wasn’t a crumb out of place. Whatever else Carmine did during his daily duties, he was tidy as a nun.
“Got some coffee cake around here, too. I’m hungry as a bear.” With her dogs scrambling around her feet, Louella rummaged in cupboards, through the refrigerator. Within minutes there was chaos.
Tess’s lips twitched again. Chaos followed her mother around as faithfully as the yapping Mimi and Maurice did.
“You meet your kin out there?”
“If you mean the half sisters, yes.” With trepidation, Tess eyed the coffee cake her mother had unearthed. Louella was slicing it into huge slabs with a steak knife. Being transferred to a plate decorated with gargantuan roses were approximately ten billion calories.
“Well, what are they like?” With the same generous hand, Louella cut a piece for her dogs, setting the china plate on the floor. The dogs bolted cake and snarled at each other.
“The one from wife number two is quiet, nervous.”
“That’s the one with the ex who likes to use his fists.” Clucking her tongue, Louella slid her ample hips onto the counter stool. “Poor thing. One of my girls had that kind of trouble. Husband would as soon beat the shit out of her as wink. We finally got her into a shelter. She’s living up in Seattle now. Sends me a card now and again.”
Tess made a small sound of interest. Her mother’s girls were anyone who worked for her, from the waitresses to the bartenders, the strippers to the kitchen help. Louella embraced them all, lending money, giving advice. Tess had always thought Louella’s was part club, part halfway house for topless dancers.
“How about the other one?” Louella asked as she attacked her coffee cake. “The one that’s part Indian.”
“Oh, that one’s a real cowgirl. Tough as leather, striding around in dirty boots. I imagine she can punch cattle, literally.” Amused at the thought, Tess poured out coffee. “She didn’t trouble to hide the fact that she didn’t want either of us there.” With a shrug, she sat down and began to pick at her cake. “She’s got a half brother.”
“Yeah, I knew about that. I knew Mary Wolfchild—at least I’d seen her around. She was one beautiful woman, and that little boy of hers, sweet face. Angel face.”
“He’s grown up now, and he’s still got the angel face. He lives on the ranch, works with horses or something.”
“His father was a wrangler, as I recall.” Louella reached in the pocket of her scarlet robe, found a pack of Virginia Slims. “How about Bess?” She let out smoke and a big, lusty laugh. “Christ, that was a woman. Had to watch my p’s and q’s around her. Had to admire her—she ran that house like a top and didn’t take any crap off Jack either.”
“She’s still running the house, as far as I could tell.”
“Hell of a house. Hell of a ranch.” Louella’s bright-red lips curved at the memory. “Hell of a country. Though I can’t say I’m sorry I only spent one winter there. Goddamn snow up to your armpits.”
“Why did you marry him?” When Louella arched a brow, Tess shifted uncomfortably. “I know I never asked before, but I’m asking now. I’d like to know why.”
“It’s a simple question with a simple answer.” Louella poured an avalanche of sugar into her coffee. “He was the sexiest son of a bitch I’d ever seen. Those eyes of his, the way they could look right through you. The way he’d cock his head and smile like he knew just what he’d be up to later and wanted to take you along.”
She remembered it all perfectly. The smells of sweat and whiskey, the lights dazzling her eyes. And the way Jack Mercy had swaggered into the nightclub when she’d been onstage in little more than feathers and a twenty-pound headdress.
The way he’d puffed on a big cigar and watched her.
Somehow she’d expected that he’d be waiting for her after the last show. And she’d gone with him without a thought, from casino to casino, drinking, gambling, wearing his Stetson perched on her head.
Within forty-eight hours, she’d stood with him in one of those assembly-line chapels with canned music and plastic flowers. And she’d had a gold ring on her finger.
It was hardly a surprise that the ring had stayed put for less than two years.
“Trouble was, we didn’t know each other. It was hot pants and gambling fever.” Philosophically, Louella crushed out her cigarette on her empty plate. “I wasn’t cut out for life on a goddamn cattle ranch in Montana. Maybe I could’ve made a go of it—who knows? I loved him.”
Tess swallowed cake before it stuck in her throat. “You loved him?”
“For a while I did.” With the ease of years and distance, Louella shrugged. “A woman couldn’t love Jack for long unless she was missing brain cells. But for a while, I loved him. And I got you out of it. And a hundred large. I wouldn’t have my girl, and I wouldn’t have my club if Jack Mercy hadn’t walked in that night and taken a shine to me. So I owe him.”
“You owe the man who kicked you, and his own daughter, out of his life? Cut you off with a lousy hundred thousand dollars?”
“A hundred K went a lot farther thirty years ago than it does today.” Louella had learned to be a mother and a businesswoman from the ground up. She was proud of both. “And from where I’m sitting, I got a pretty good deal.”
“Mercy Ranch is worth twenty million. Do you still think you got a good deal?”
Louella pursed her lips. “It was his ranch, honey. I just visited there for a while.”
“Long enough to make a baby and get the boot.”
“I wanted the baby.”
“Mom.” Most of Tess’s anger faded at the words, but the injustice of it remained hot in her heart. “You had a right to more. I had a right to more.”
“Maybe, maybe not, but that was the deal at the time.” Louella lit another cigarette, decided to be late for her afternoon session at the beauty parlor. There was more here, she thought. “Time goes on. Jack ended up making three daughters, and now he’s dead. You want to tell me what he left you?”
“A problem.” Tess took the cigarette from Louella’s hand and indulged in a quick drag. Smoking was a habit she didn’t approve of—what sensible person did? But it was either that or the several million calories still on her plate. “I get a third of the ranch.”
“A third of the—Good Jesus and little fishes, Tess, honey, that’s a fortune.” Louella bounced up. She might have been five ten and a generous one-fifty, but she’d been trained as a dancer and could move when she had to. She moved now, skimming around the counter to crush her daughter’s ribs in an enthusiastic hug. “What are we doing sitting here drinking coffee? We need ourselves some French champagne. Carmine’s got some stashed somewhere.”
“Wait. Mom, wait.” As Louella tore into the fridge again, Tess tugged on her robe. “It’s not that simple.”
“My daughter the millionaire. The cattle baron.” Louella popped the cork, spewing champagne. “Fucking A.”
“I have to live there for a year.” Tess blew out a breath as Louella cheerfully clamped her mouth over the lip of the bottle and sucked up bubbles. “All three of us have to live there for a year, together. Or we don’t get zip.”
Louella licked champagne from her lips. “You have to live in Montana for a year? On the ranch?” Her voice began to shake. “With the cows? You, with the cows.”
“That’s the deal. Me, and the other two. Together.”
One hand still holding the bottle, the other braced on the counter, Louella began to laugh. She laughed so hard, so long that tears streamed down her face, running with Maybelline mascara and L’Oréal ivory base.
“Jesus H. Christ, the son of a bitch always could make me laugh.”
“I’m glad you think it’s so funny.” Tess’s voice cracked like ice. “You can chuckle over it nightly while I’m out in bumfuck watching the grass grow.”
With a flourish, Louella poured c
hampagne into the coffee cups. “Honey, you can always spit in his eye and go on just as you are.”
“And give up several million in assets? I don’t think so.”
“No.” Louella sobered as she studied her daughter, this mystery she had somehow given birth to. So pretty, she mused, so cool, so sure of herself. “No, you wouldn’t. You’re too much your father’s daughter for that. You’ll do the time, Tess.”
And she wondered if her daughter would get more out of it than a third interest in a cattle ranch. Would the year soften the edges, Louella wondered, or hone them?
She lifted both cups, handed one to Tess. “When do you leave?”
“First thing in the morning.” She sighed loud and long. “I’ve got to go buy some goddamn boots,” she muttered, then with a small smile toasted herself. “What the hell. It’s only a year.”
W HILE TESS WAS DRINKING CHAMPAGNE IN HER mother’s kitchen, Lily was standing at the edge of a pasture, watching horses graze. She’d never seen anything more beautiful than the way the wind blew through their manes, the way the mountains rose behind, all blue and white.
For the first time in months, she had slept through the night, without pills, without nightmares, lulled by the quiet.
It was quiet now. She could hear the grind of machinery in the distance. Just a hum in the air. She’d heard Willa talking to someone that morning about harvesting grain, but she had wanted to stay out of the way. She could be alone here with the horses, bothering no one, with no one bothering her.
For three days she’d been left to her own devices. No one said anything when she wandered the house, or went out to explore the ranch. The men would tip their hats to her if they passed by, and she imagined there were comments and murmurings. But she didn’t care about that.
The air here was sweet to the taste. Wherever she stood, it seemed, she could see something beautiful—water rushing over rocks in a stream, the flash of a bird in the forest, deer bounding across the road.
She thought a year of this would be paradise.
Adam stood for a moment, the bucket in his hand, watching her. She came out here every day, he knew. He’d seen her wander away from the house, the barn, the paddocks, and head for this pasture. She would stand by the fence, very still, very quiet.
Very alone.
He’d waited, believing she needed to be alone. Healing was often a solitary matter. But he also believed she needed a friend. So now he walked toward her, careful to make enough noise so that she wouldn’t be startled. When she turned, her smile came slow and hesitant, but it came.
“I’m sorry. I’m not in the way here, am I?”
“You’re not in anyone’s way.”
Because she was already learning to be relaxed around him, she shifted her gaze back to the horses. “I love looking at them.”
“You can have a closer look.” He didn’t need the bucket of grain to lure any of the horses to the fence. Any of them would come for him at a quiet call. He handed the bucket to Lily. “Just give it a shake.”
She did, then watched, delighted, as several pairs of ears perked up. Horses trotted over to crowd at the fence. Without thinking, she dipped a hand into the grain and fed a pretty buckskin mare.
“You’ve been around horses before.”
At Adam’s comment, she pulled her hand back. “I’m sorry. I should have asked before I fed her.”
“It’s all right.” He was sorry to have startled that smile away from her face. That quick light that had come into eyes that were somewhere between gray and blue. Like lake water, he thought, caught in the shadows of sunset. “Come along, Molly.”
At her name, the roan mare pranced along the fence toward the gate. Adam led her into a corral and slipped a bridle over her head.
Self-conscious again, Lily wiped grain dust on her jeans, took one hesitant step closer. “Her name’s Molly?”
“Yes.” He kept his eyes on the horse, giving Lily a chance to settle again.
“She’s pretty.”
“She’s a good saddle horse. Kind. Her gait’s a bit rough, but she tries. Don’t you, girl? Can you ride Western, Lily?”
“I—what?”
“You probably learned on English.” Keeping it light, Adam spread the blanket he’d brought along over Molly’s back. “Nate keeps some English tack if you’d rather. We can borrow a saddle from him.”
Her hands reached for each other, as they did when her nerves jittered. “I don’t understand.”
“You want to ride, don’t you?” He slid one of Willa’s old saddles onto Molly’s back. “I thought we’d go up in the hills a little way. Might see some elk.”
She found herself caught between yearning and fear. “I haven’t ridden in—It’s been a long time.”
“You don’t forget how.” Adam estimated the length of her legs and adjusted the stirrups accordingly. “You can go alone once you know your way around.” He turned then, noting the way she kept glancing back toward the ranch house. As if gauging the distance. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
She believed him. That was what she was afraid of—that it was so easy to believe him. How often had she believed Jesse?
But that was done, she reminded herself. That was over. Her life could begin again, if she’d let it.
“I’d like to go, for a little while, if you’re sure it’s all right.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” He moved toward her, stopping instinctively before she shied again. “You don’t have to worry about Willa. She has a good heart, and a generous one. It’s just hurting right now.”
“I know she’s upset. She has every right to be.” Unable to resist, Lily lifted a hand to stroke Molly’s cheek. “Even more upset since they found that poor cow. I don’t understand who would do something like that. She’s so angry. And she’s so busy. She’s always got something to do, and I’m, well, I’m just here.”
“Do you want something to do?”
With the horse between them, it was easy to smile. “Not if it involves castrating cows. I could hear them this morning.” She shuddered, then managed to laugh at herself. “I got out of the house before Bess could make me eat breakfast. I don’t think I’d have held it down for long.”
“It’s just one of the things you get used to.”
“I don’t think so.” Lily exhaled, barely noticing how close her hand was to Adam’s on the mare’s head. “Willa’s natural with all of it. She’s so sure and confident. I envy that, that knowing just who you are. To her I’m just a nuisance, which is why I haven’t been able to work up the courage to talk to her, to ask if there’s something I could do around here to help.”
“You don’t have to be afraid of her, either.” He brushed his fingertips against hers, continuing to stroke the mare even when Lily’s hand slid out of reach. “But meanwhile, you could ask me. I can use some help. With the horses,” he added, when she only stared at him.
“You want me to help you with the horses?”
“It’s a lot of work, more when winter gets here.” Knowing he’d planted the seed, he stepped back. “Think about it.” Then he cupped his hands, smiled again. “I’ll give you a leg up. You can walk her around the corral, get acquainted, while I saddle up.”
Her throat was closed so that she had to swallow hard to clear it. “You don’t even know me.”
“I figure we’ll get acquainted too.” He stood as he was, hands linked in a cup, his eyes patient on hers. “You just have to put your foot in my hands, Lily, not your life.”
Feeling foolish, she grabbed the saddle horn and let him boost her into the saddle. She looked down at him, her eyes solemn in her battered face. “Adam, my life is a mess.”
He only nodded as he checked her stirrups. “You’ll have to start tidying it up.” He rested a hand on her ankle a moment, wanting her to grow easy to his touch. “But today, you just have to take a ride into the hills.”
T HE LITTLE BITCH, LETTING THAT HALF-BREED PAW HER. Sniveling little who
re thought she could get rid of Jesse Cooke, figured she could run and he wouldn’t catch her. Put the cops on his ass. She was going to pay for that.
Jesse stared through the field glasses while little bubbles of fury burst in his blood. He wondered if the half-breed horse wrangler had already gotten Lily on her back. Well, the bastard would pay too. Lily was Jesse Cooke’s wife, and he was going to be reminding her of that soon enough.
Stupid little cunt thought she was real clever hightailing it to Montana. But the day Jesse Cooke couldn’t outwit a woman was the day the sun didn’t rise in the east.
He’d known she wouldn’t make a move without contacting her dear old mama. So he’d just camped himself within sight of the pretty house in Virginia. And every morning he’d gotten to the mail and checked through it for a letter from Lily.
Persistence had paid off. The letter had come, as he’d known it would. He’d taken it back to the motel room, steamed it open. Oh, Jesse Cooke was nobody’s fool. He’d read it, seen where she was going, what she was up to.
Going to cash in on an inheritance, he thought bitterly. And cut her own husband out of his share of the pie. Not in this lifetime, Jesse mused.