Suspicions of the Heart (4 page)

"One was from a fella named Munroe, the
other from…"

"Joe Munroe?"

"Yes, yes, I think that was his
name."

"Are you sure?"

"I could have my secretary check the
messages, but she left his name in the file. Let me look. Why? Do
you know him?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well, you can take it up with him
yourself, but if I were you I wouldn't consider an individual.
They'll try robbing you blind. The other offer seemed quite
legitimate. It was from some real estate firm. I forget the name
off hand. I'll check that for you, too. At least with them you'd
get the going price for it. And believe me, you'll be ready to sell
once you've seen the place. It's a shambles. It's in the panhandle,
dusty, and hot; no place for a woman."

"You forget. I'm not an orchid, I'm a
sunflower. I'm used to the country. I'll decide about the place
myself. But I've no intention of selling to anyone at the present.
Unless the will so stipulates."

"No, there are no stipulations. Your
father was very cut and dried about such things. I would imagine he
expected you to sell, though."

"How would you know?"

Fargate looked away from her, adjusted
his tie, and gave a half smile. "Your father and I were good
friends, Candy, whether you like the idea or not. We discussed a
variety of subjects."

"He trusted you, yes. Why I'll never
know."

That blind trust had driven a wedge
between her and her father when the divorce became final. Her
father defended Fargate's actions. Defended them! And she couldn't
quite forgive that.

Cheating was cheating, and she wasn't
putting up with it even for her father. Fargate made his choices.
Three months after they were married she caught him in his office
with his secretary. His defense was that Candy was a cold fish and
refused to be a real wife to him. It was true. After her wedding
night she was adamant.

As charming and good-looking as Fargate
was, he was a barracuda in bed, and Candy wouldn't let him touch
her. He had been drinking, and had expected much more than she
could ever dream of giving. She'd never forgiven him for that.
Perhaps she had been a cold fish. Without a mother's guidance she
had little to base a marriage on. But she wouldn't allow his
brutality again. She had a choice, and she took it. It cost her a
marriage.

And he went elsewhere.

"Are you all right?" Fargate leaned to
touch her arm when she closed her eyes for too long.

"Yes," she said and quickly opened
them. "Did Munroe say what he wanted with the land?"

Fargate studied her, evaluating her
question obviously. "No, but his land borders yours and I'm sure he
wants to expand. It makes sense. He mentioned something about
Longhorns, but I wasn't interested enough to pay close attention.
Why, is something wrong?"

"Wrong? No," she replied too quickly.
"I was just curious. Well, I'd like to thank you for handling
things for dad. I know how much he cared for you. He trusted you to
his discredit. Now, I'll see myself out unless there's something
more to discuss?"

"You never did, did you?" Fargate's
voice stopped her.

"Never did what?" She half turned to
look at him.

"Trust me?"

"I don't think it matters
now."

Fargate dropped his hands to his side,
as though he had given up the battle he had begun. "I think I
mentioned lunch. And you do have to go by the bank."

"All right." Candy didn't argue. She
knew better. She couldn't win an argument with this man. "But let's
take care of the business first."

"Fine."

"Are you free now?"

"As a matter of fact, I'm free all
morning."

Not on her account, she
hoped!

The late June sun was practically
blistering the sidewalk as they left the building and walked the
short distance to the bank. Exercising his authority, Fargate took
complete charge of the matter and they were through within an hour.
The deposit box was nearly empty. There were a few titles and
securities. Odd and ends that only she would find
valuable.

And there was a picture of her mother
and a set of keys to her father's old Ford that wouldn't start; she
smiled reflectively.

Moments later she and Fargate sat at a
small table for two at a rather exclusive Italian restaurant. She
stirred the sugar into her iced tea, squeezed a lemon and glanced
at Fargate across the table.

"So, where have you been keeping
yourself, Candy?" he asked, his eyes locking onto hers with a
serious expression.

"Rodeos mostly, since dad
died…"

"It's been a long time, hasn't
it?"

"Yes, it has." She knew she was
blushing, and sipped her tea. This conversation was too personal
for her liking.

"I've missed you. I'd like to start
seeing you again, Candy." He reached for her hand.

She had been prepared for almost
anything, but this took her completely off-guard. He couldn't be
serious. She let him take her hand into his, influenced momentarily
by the dim lights and soft background music. But only for a
moment.

Jerking her hand from his, she shook
her head. "What on earth for?"

As though she had stung him, he
flinched, and then frowned. "You're bitter--aren't you?"

"No," she rushed to deny. "I found out
a long time ago that I wasn't in love with you, Charles. That's
why…"

"Are you sure of that? You didn't give
us much of a chance you know. One mistake and you half caused it
yourself."

"Sometimes once is enough."

If she allowed him, he would manipulate
his way back into her life. She didn't want him back. When she was
finished, she was finished.

"Why won't you give it a chance?
Afraid?"

"What do I have to be afraid of? Let's
be honest, Charles. I'm headed for the ranch, and unless you intend
to drive all that way, well…" She gestured.

"Then go out with me tonight. I'll show
you what a great guy I really am."

"Sorry, I've got a date."

"I'm sure with one of those monolithic
cowboys?" He made a wry face.

"As a matter of fact--it
is."

"You are not the rodeo type, Candy. You
never were. You don't go around with cowboy hats, swearing and
hanging out in those hillbilly bars. That's not your style. Face
it, honey. You're much too sophisticated for that crowd and you
know it. You don't even speak their language."

To some extent, he was right. In most
ways she didn't blend in with the rodeo crowd. Even though her
lifestyle fit into the rodeo scene, she wasn't pure stock. She
hadn't allowed herself to be. But she wasn't a city girl either.
She was country.

"Is it serious with this
cowboy?"

Why was he suddenly so interested? "I
don't know. I haven't given it a chance—yet."

"Sounds familiar," he whispered lowly.
"What if I come out there to visit you?"

"To the ranch?" She gasped in
surprise.

"Give me a chance, Candy. I made one
mistake. Can't you ever forgive anyone? I don't want us to end like
this."

"Yes, I can forgive," she said quietly.
"I just can't forget."

"Not even in all this time? You must
have loved me terribly, if I'd only known."

"Or not at all," she answered,
satisfied she had squashed his ego.

"Deny it--but you know you still have
feelings for me. Let me come?"

"I can't stop you."

Where was he going with this? Sure,
he'd been charming when they first met, and strangely
indulging.

"You know, I've been giving this a lot
of thought. Maybe I should take the land off your hands. I mean, I
know how to dispose of it easier than you do. But I guess you're
going to have to go out there and see it for yourself. It won't
take long to realize how right I am about that place. It simply has
no future."

"Maybe, but that's for me to decide,
isn't it?" She continued with the meal, keeping the conversation as
light as Fargate would allow.

On the way home it wasn't Fargate on
her mind. It was Joe Munroe. What was he up to? Why did he want her
land and why hadn't he mentioned it to her when he had the chance?
She wrestled with those sudden implications all the way
home.

Darn Joe Munroe for planting all those
suspicions in her head. She had never been one to distrust people,
until the last few years. She didn't like what was going on in her
mind. Perhaps she was letting herself blow things out of
proportion. It might have been just an accident. Except the
bull--that wasn't an accident. Someone had let him out.

About to unlock her trailer door she
spotted Roscoe in the distance and waved.

"Well, we still headed for the High
Plains?" he asked as he neared her.

"Looks like it. You still want to
come?"

Roscoe nodded. It was the first time he
had been out of make-up for days and he looked quite handsome for
his age. Candy thought more of him than anyone in the world. She
wasn't sure how old he was, probably mid-fifties and still very
good-looking. Her mother's only brother, he was a special last link
to her heritage.

His once sandy hair was grayed around
the edges and those all-seeing gray eyes began to see into her too
well. His skin was leathery from working in the hot sun all day,
and his face looked like a piece of chiseled rock, tanned from the
weather, wrinkling around the eyes and mouth.

"Think you can spare the room?" One
brow inched high as he eyed her.

Candy smiled. She watched him throw a
lasso, fascinated at his talent. Uncle Roscoe had taught her to
ride, and rope as good as any cowhand. He was the master, the
teacher, she, the pupil.

He never fully understood his
importance to her. And she felt tongue-tied, especially now. He was
the only family she had left and she clung to him, needed
him.

"I want you to come with me, Uncle
Roscoe, I need you." She forced the knot in her throat down. "Wanna
pull out at sunup?"

"I'll be here," he replied his smile
spreading. "Need any help with the hitchin'?"

"I have been having trouble with that
hitch lately." She gestured at the rusting hitch.

"I'll be here at sunup. Have some
coffee for me, gal." He winked and was gone.

Candy nodded. Uncle Roscoe rarely did
anything without a cup of coffee first. It made her smile. She was
so glad he was coming. She couldn't imagine living out there in
nowhere--alone.

Chapter Three

"You must be on a high
cycle."

The tall, willowy blonde sitting across
from Candy chuckled loudly. Her powder blue eyes scanned the crowd
of people and landed effectively on Doug at the bar.

Candy shrugged, her gaze sweeping to
Doug once more. His smile seemed to brighten when he saw he had an
audience. Doug was a player, and Candy had a hard time taking him
seriously.

"A high cycle? I don't see
how."

"Well, you just said your ex wants to
get back together with you, and then there's Doug over there. And
what about that cowboy who jumped into the arena to save your neck?
That was some stunt. The crowd ate it up. I guess they thought it
was all part of your act or something. Oh yes, you are definitely
on a high, kid."

Gloria Maxwell smiled toward the bar
again, turning herself so she was in full view.

Funny how Gloria just happened to
wander in at the right time and plant herself at their table. But
then, that was Gloria. From his constant smiles, Doug was obviously
eating the attention up. He knew and loved the fat that women
followed him everywhere.

And who wouldn't notice Gloria? She
wore the tightest designer jeans and the softest clinging blouses
with no bra. Her hair looked tousled and wild, her make-up thick,
but well applied. And Doug couldn't keep his eyes off her, typical
male. At least, he was honest about it.

Gloria had been sitting at their table
all of ten minutes before Candy got up the nerve to ask, "So
Gloria, did you come with anyone?"

Gloria glanced at her, her face
flushing, her eyes pleading for understanding. "Of course I did. I
came with Leroy, but he's so plastered. I don't think he knows I'm
here. I can't stand a guy who can't hold his liquor. I think if
you're going to drink you should know how to handle it, don't
you?"

Candy let go of her beer and moved it
away. "I agree, wholeheartedly." She couldn't tolerate draft beer;
it made her ill. Doug had ordered it against her wishes, and she
was trying to fit in. Dear God, here she was trying to prove
Fargate wrong, and he wasn't even around to see. Yet, it seemed
important. Perhaps more so since Fargate made mention of her not
fitting in. And beer was the classic drink for cowboys and
cowgirls.