Lone Star Winter (17 page)

She nodded. “It's part of a paralegal's job. I've learned a lot.”

“Enough to tempt you to go to law school?”

She laughed. “No. Not that much. A history degree is
enough, not to mention the paralegal training. I've had all the education I want.” She frowned thoughtfully. “You know, I did think about teaching adult education classes at night….”

“Your father was well-to-do,” he pointed out. “He had coin collections worth half a million, didn't he?”

“We thought so, but we couldn't find them. I suppose he sold them to buy that Mercedes Janet is driving,” she said somberly.

“He loved you and Curt.”

She had to fight tears. “He wrote a new will just after he married her, leaving everything to her,” she said simply. “She said she had it all in his safe-deposit box, along with the passbook to his big savings account, which her name was on as well as his. The way it was set up, that account belonged to her, so there was no legal problem with it,” she had to admit. “Daddy didn't leave us a penny.”

“There's something fishy going on here,” he said, thinking out loud.

“It sounds like it, I guess. But Daddy gave everything to her. That was his decision to make, not ours. He was crazy about her.”

Jordan looked murderous. “Has the will gone through probate yet?”

She shook her head. “She said she's given it to an attorney. It's pending.”

“You know the law, even better than I do. This isn't right. You should get a lawyer,” he repeated. “Get Kemp, in fact, and have him investigate her. There's something not right about this, Libby. Your father was the healthiest man I ever knew. He never had any symptoms of heart trouble.”

“Well, I thought that, too, and so did Curt.” She sighed, glancing down at the elegant blue-and-rose carpet, and her eyes grew misty. “He was really crazy about her, though. Maybe he just didn't think we'd need much. I know he loved us….” She choked back a sob. It was still fresh, the grief.

Jordan sighed and pulled her close against his tall, powerful body. His arms were warm and comforting as they enfolded her. “Why don't you just cry, Libby?” he asked gently. “It does help.”

She sniffed into his shoulder. It smelled nice. His shirt had a pleasant detergent smell to it. “Do you ever cry?”

“Bite your tongue, woman,” he said at her temple. “What would happen to the ranch if I sat down and bawled every time something went wrong? Tears won't come out of Persian carpet, you just ask my aunt!”

She laughed softly, even through the tears. He was a comforting sort of man and it was surprising, because he had a quick temper and an arrogance that put most people's backs up at first meeting.

“So that's why you yell at your cowboys? So you won't cry?”

“Works for me,” he chuckled. He patted her shoulder. “Feel better?”

She nodded, smiling through tears. She wiped them away with a paper towel she'd tucked into her jeans. “Thanks.”

“What are prospective lovers for?” he asked, smiling wickedly, and laughing out loud when she flushed.

“You stop corrupting me, you bad influence!”

“I said nothing corrupting, I just gave advance notice of bad intentions.” He laughed at her expression. “At least it stopped the cascading waterfalls,” he added, tongue in cheek, as he glanced at the tear tracks down her cheeks.

“Those weren't tears,” she mumbled. “It was dew.” She held up a hand. “I feel it falling again!”

“Talk to Kemp,” he reiterated, not adding that he was going to do the same. “If she's got a new will and a codicil, signed, make her prove it. Don't let her shove you off your own land without a fight.”

“I guess I could ask to see it,” she agreed. Then she winced. “I hate arguments. I hate fights.”

“I'll remember that the next time you come chasing after me,” he promised.

She shook her head impotently, turning to go.

“Hey.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder.

“Let me know what you find out,” he said. “I'm in this, too. I can't manage a subdivision right near my barn. I can't have a lot of commotion around those beautiful Santa Gerts, it stresses them out too much. It would cost a fortune to tear down that barn and stick it closer to the house. A lawsuit would be cheaper.”

“There's an idea,” she said brightly. “Take her to court.”

“For what, trying to sell property? That's rich.”

“Just trying to help us both out,” she said.

He glanced at his watch again. “Five minutes left and even I'm not that good,” he added. “Pity. If you hadn't kept running your mouth, by now we could have…”

“You hush, Jordan Powell!” she shot at him. “Honestly, of all the blatant, arrogant, sex-crazed ranchers in Texas…!”

She was still mumbling as she went out the door. But when she was out of sight, she grinned. He was a tonic.

 

That night, Janet didn't say a word about any real estate deals. She ate a light supper that Libby had prepared, as usual without any compliments about it.

“When are you going back to work?” she asked Libby irritably, her dyed blond hair in an expensive hairdo, her trendy silk shell and embroidered jeans marking her new wealth. “It can't be good for you to lie around here all day.”

Curt, who was almost the mirror image of his sister, except for his height and powerful frame, glared at the woman. “Excuse me, since when did you do any housework or cooking around here? Libby's done both since she turned thirteen!”

“Don't you speak to me that way,” Janet said haughtily. “I can throw you out anytime I like. I own everything!”

“You don't own the property until that will goes through probate,” Libby replied sweetly, shocked at her own boldness. She'd never talked that way to the woman before. “You can produce it, I hope, because you're going to have to. You don't get the property yet. Maybe not even later, if everything isn't in perfect order.”

“You've been talking to that rancher again, haven't you?” Janet demanded. “That damned Powell man!
He's so suspicious about everything! Your father had a heart attack. He's dead. He left everything to me. What else do you want?” she raged, standing.

Libby stood, too, her face flushed. “Proof. I want proof. And you'd better have it before you start making any deals with developers about selling Daddy's land!”

Janet started. “De…developers?”

“I heard you this afternoon with that real estate agent,” Libby said, with an apologetic glance at her brother, who looked shocked. She hadn't told him. “You're trying to sell our ranch and Daddy hasn't even been dead a month!”

Curt stood up. He looked even more formidable than Libby. “Before you make any attempt to sell this land, you're going to need a lawyer, Janet,” he said in that slow, cold drawl that made cowhands move faster.

“How are you going to afford one, Curt, dear?” she asked sarcastically. “You just work for wages.”

“Oh, Jordan will loan us the money,” Libby said confidently.

Janet's haughty expression fluttered. She threw down her napkin. “You need cooking lessons,” she said spitefully. “This food is terrible! I've got to make some phone calls.”

She stormed out of the room.

Libby and Curt sat back down, both angry. Libby explained about the real estate agent's visit and what she'd overheard. Curt had only just come in when Libby had put the spaghetti and garlic bread on the table. It was Curt's favorite food and his sister made it very well, he thought, despite Janet's snippy comment.

“She's not selling this place while there's a breath left in my body,” he told his sister. “Anyway, she can't do that until the will is probated. And she'd better have a legitimate will.”

“Jordan said we needed to get Mr. Kemp to take a look at it,” she said. “And I think we're going to need a handwriting expert to take a look, too.”

He nodded.

“But what are we going to do about money to file suit?” she asked. “I was bluffing about Jordan loaning us the money. I don't know if he would.”

“He's not going to want a subdivision on his doorstep, I'll tell you that,” Curt said. “I'll talk to him.”

“I already did,” she said, surprising him. “He thinks there's something fishy going on, too.”

“You can't get much past Jordan,” he agreed. “I've been working myself to death trying not to think about losing Dad. I should have paid more attention to what was going on here.”

“I've been grieving, too.” She sighed and folded her
small hands on the tablecloth. “Isn't it amazing how snippy she is, now that Daddy's not here? She was all over us like poison ivy before he died.”

“She married him for what he had, Libby,” he said bitterly.

“She seemed to love him….”

“She came on to me the night they came back from that Cancún honeymoon,” he said bitterly.

Libby whistled. Her brother was a very attractive man. Their father, a sweet and charming man, had been overweight and balding. She could understand why Janet might have preferred Curt to his father.

“I slapped her down hard and Dad never knew.” He shook his head. “How could he marry something like that?”

“He was flattered by all the attention she gave him, I guess,” Libby said miserably. “And now here we are. I'll bet she sweet-talked him into changing that will. He would have done anything for her, you know that—he was crazy in love with her. He might have actually written us out of it, Curt. We have to accept that.”

“Not until they can prove to me that it wasn't forged,” he said stubbornly. “I'm not giving up our inheritance without a fight. Neither are you,” he asserted.

She sighed. “Okay, big brother. What do you want to do?”

“When do you go back to work?”

“Monday. Mr. Kemp's out of town.”

“Okay. Monday, you make an appointment for both of us to sit down with him and hash this out.”

She felt better already. “Okay,” she said brightly. “I'll do that very thing. Maybe we do have a chance of keeping Daddy's ranch.”

He nodded. “There's always hope.” He leaned back in his chair. “So you went to see Jordan.” He smiled indulgently. “I can remember a time not so long ago when you ran and hid from him.”

“He always seemed to be yelling at somebody,” she recalled. “I was intimidated by him. Especially when I graduated from high school. I had a sort of crush on him. I was scared to death he'd notice. Not that he was ever around here that much,” she added, laughing. “He and Daddy had a fight a week over water rights.”

“Dad usually lost, too,” Curt recalled. He studied his sister with affection. “You know, I thought maybe Jordan was sweet on you himself—he's only eight years older than you.”

“He's never been sweet on me!” she flashed at him, blushing furiously. “He's hardly even smiled at me, in all the years we've lived here, until the past few months! If anything, he usually treats me like a contagious virus!”

Curt only smiled. He looked very much like her, with the same dark wavy hair and the same green eyes. “He picks at you. Teases you. Makes you laugh. You do the same thing to him. People besides me have noticed. He bristles if anyone says anything unkind about you.”

Her eyes widened. “Who's been saying unkind things about me?” she asked.

“That assistant store manager over at Lord's Department Store.”

“Oh. Sherry King.” She leaned back in her chair. “She can't help it, you know. She was crazy about Duke Wright and he wanted to take me to the Cattleman's Ball. I wouldn't go and he didn't ask anybody else. I feel sorry for her.”

“Duke's not your sort of man,” he replied. “He's a mixer. Nobody in Jacobsville has been in more brawls,” he said, pausing. “Well, maybe Leo Hart has.”

“Leo Hart got married, he won't be brawling out at Shea's Roadhouse and Bar anymore.”

“Duke's not likely to get married again. His wife took their five-year-old son to New York City, where her new job is. He says she doesn't even look after the little boy. She's too busy trying to get a promotion. The child stays with her sister while she jets all over the world closing real estate deals.”

“It's a new world,” Libby pointed out. “Women are competing with men for the choice jobs now. They have to move around to get a promotion.”

Curt's eyes narrowed. “Maybe they should get promotion before they get pregnant,” he said impatiently.

She shrugged. “Accidents happen.”

“No child of mine is ever going to be an accident,” Curt said firmly.

“Nice to be so superior,” she teased, eyes twinkling. “Never to make mistakes…”

He swiped at her with a napkin. “You don't even stick your toes in the water, so don't lecture me about drowning.”

She chuckled. “I'm sensible, I am,” she retorted. “None of this angst for me. I'll just do my routine job and keep my nose out of emotional entanglements.”

He studied her curiously. “You go through life avoiding any sort of risk, don't you, honey?” he mused.

She moved one shoulder restlessly. “Daddy and Mama fought all the time, remember?” she said. “I swore I'd never get myself into a fix like that. She told me that she and Daddy were so happy when they first met, when they first married. Then, six months later, she was pregnant with you and they couldn't manage one pleasant meal together without shouting.” She shook her head. “That means you can't trust emotions.
It's better to use your brain when you think about marrying somebody. Love is…sticky,” she concluded. “And it causes insanity, I'm sure of it.”

“Why don't you ask Kemp if that's why he's stayed single so long? He's in his middle thirties, isn't he, and never even been engaged.”