Takin' The Reins (4 page)

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. I liked Ms. Albright. She was a feisty lady.”

“How did you know her?”

“I’m a contractor. I did a couple of minor fix-it jobs for her around the ranch. Lydia was pretty tight with her money, so when I say minor, I mean very minor. I’d change a fuse or put up a shelf. That sort of thing. She called me once to take a rat out of a trap in the barn. She didn’t much care for rodents, she said. I usually ended up staying for coffee and we’d visit.”

Jordan slid him a sly smile. “Did you ever think maybe she simply wanted the company?”

When he grinned, his entire face lit up. “Yeah, I did, and I was happy to oblige. From what I could tell, she stayed to herself a lot. But she was a nice lady. I enjoyed talking with her now and then. I’d like to offer my condolences on your loss.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it, but the truth is you knew her better than I did.”

His eyebrows arched in surprise. “What do you mean?” He took a sip from the soft drink Nicki had set in front of him.

Jordan explained, giving the short version. “I hadn’t seen my aunt in many years. I was a child the last time. I barely remember anything about her.”

“You don’t say?” Cole spun on the stool and grabbed one of the young boys who’d snuck up behind him and started tickling him in the ribs. The boy had tapped him on the shoulder as a joke and was now laughing like a hyena and trying to catch his breath. When Cole released him, the boy rejoined his buddies and they all laughed and went back to their fries. Turning his attention back to Jordan, Cole jumped to another subject.

“What are you doing tomorrow? You just got here, right? I’d be glad to show you around the area. I’m a great tour guide.”

She eyed him askance. “You have a short attention span, don’t you?”

The grin he flashed was sheepish. “Sorry. I get nervous around pretty women.”

She chuckled. “Right. Can’t you come up with a better line than that?”

“Forget pretty boy,” the Hispanic man interjected. “Let a real man show you a good time.” He pounded on his chest with his fist and chortled. Bile clogged her throat.

“Shut up, Cruz.” Cole’s smile vanished. “Treat the lady with respect or don’t speak to her at all.”

“You shut up, Roberts.” He sucked some tobacco juice up through his teeth.

“Both of you shut up or get out,” the cook barked.

“Here you go, Cole.” Nicki placed a Styrofoam take-out carton on the counter and jammed a finger in her hair and twirled a strand. He laid some dollar bills down and told her to keep the change. Then he picked up the carton, reached into his shirt pocket, and extracted a business card.

“Here, Jordan. Call me. We can talk about getting that ranch of yours back in to shape. I know the house could use a face lift.” He winked.

She slipped the card into her purse. “Thanks. I’ll consider it. It was nice to meet you.” She ignored the two cowboys who were still watching her and swung off the stool and strode toward the door, having had enough for one day. Footsteps behind her made her crane her neck around. Cole sidled up to her and whispered, “Would you allow me to walk you to your car?”

“It’s out front. I think I can manage on my own. But thanks.”

“At least let me hold the door open for you.” He leaped in front of her, and his friendly demeanor made it hard for her to refuse.

“Okay. If you insist.”

“Come back soon,” Nicki called. Jordan turned to see if the waitress was speaking to her or Cole. She saw the two cowboys plunk down some change and swivel off their stools. As she and her handsome escort started down the sidewalk, she heard the clicking of boot heels echoing behind them. Uneasiness slid over her. When she looked behind her, she saw the pair had crossed the street and climbed into an old red pickup with a dent in the side. The man with the scar was in the driver’s seat. He swung into the street and made a U-turn with a squeal of the tires. His partner blew her a kiss as their truck shot past. Cole placed his hand at the small of her back. His voice grew serious.

“Those two are trouble. Their names are Joe Campbell and Cimarron Cruz. They work for Addison Stillwell. Have you heard about him yet?”

Her eyes widened. “As a matter of fact, I have. My lawyer, Mr. Taylor, told me Mr. Stillwell tried unsuccessfully to buy the ranch from Lydia.”

“That’s right. Everyone knows his story. He’s going to know you’re in town now. It probably won’t be long before he makes a house call.” A look of concern shadowed Cole’s face.

“Keep your eyes open. It’s not beyond that man to do whatever it takes to get what he’s after.”

This Stillwell man seemed to be a legend in his own time. But if an old lady was able to stand up to him, Jordan wasn’t too worried. “Thanks for the advice, but I think I can take care of myself.” She smiled so he wouldn’t think she was rude. “And thanks for walking me to my car.” They both chuckled because it had only been a few steps from the café to the curb. Cole’s face softened again.

“I’m serious about the ranch. I’ll be glad to come out and give you an estimate for some repairs. I know the house could use some remodeling.”

“What makes you think I’m even staying?” she asked.

“Well, I just assumed…” His voice trailed off. “You are staying. Aren’t you?”

“Even if I am, how do you know I have the money to do remodeling?”

His face turned pink with embarrassment. “Gosh, I’m sorry. I’m a jerk. I figured Lydia must have left you a nest egg. I apologize for jumping to conclusions.” He was sweet and seemed sincere.

“It’s okay,” she assured. “As a matter of fact, I
was
thinking the place could use modernization.”

Cole’s eyes brightened again. “Great! Then I’m your man. I’ll call you to arrange a time to meet. What’s your cell phone number?” He pulled his cell out of his pocket and was ready to add her contact info into his phone. But it was too soon to be giving out her number to a stranger, no matter how good looking he was.

“Why don’t I call you?” she suggested.

He looked up. “Oh, I get it. You don’t want me to have your number.” She didn’t say anything. He snapped his phone shut and slipped it back into his pocket. “That’s fine. I understand. A woman has to be cautious. Is the land-line phone at Lydia’s still working? That number’s in the book.”

Jordan shrugged. “I don’t know. I honestly didn’t think to check.”

“I’ll try calling it tomorrow,” he said. “If it’s not on, I’ll swing by. How will that be? Maybe we can have lunch together.”

“That’s possible,” she began. He didn’t give her time to say more.

“Cool! I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He waved and strode off in the opposite direction.

“Bye,” she called to his back. She climbed into her Jeep and dropped her head onto the steering wheel for a moment’s respite. What a day. Her head was starting to pound. She started the engine and slipped the vehicle into gear. Today had been full of surprises. She wondered. What would tomorrow bring?

Chapter Four

Jordan lay in the lumpy bed staring up at a water stain on the ceiling. It was hot in the house, but she still had a sheet pulled up to her chin. Adjusting to country living might take some time. It was so quiet here. Every creak the house made startled her. The sheet was like a shield, protecting her from any boogey monsters that might be lurking under the bed, just like when she was a child and afraid of the dark.

The moon’s rays shimmered through the thin curtain that clung to the bedroom window. Night insects chirped and twittered outside. It all kept her awake—not that she could sleep anyway. The events of the day kept turning over in her brain. She checked the clock on the bedside table. It was only nine o’clock. She’d never been to bed this early in her adult life. After punching down the pillow for the third time and kicking the sheet off, she replayed her first day in New Mexico once more.

After leaving the café, she picked up groceries and cleaning supplies at the local store and thoroughly scrubbed the bathroom. With a sparkling tub beckoning, she ran a bubble bath and soaked for an hour. Once refreshed and free of the afternoon headache, she slipped into an oversized tee shirt and crawled into Lydia’s old iron bed. Now, although she should be feeling relaxed, she had trouble turning off her thoughts.

The silence was akin to Chinese water torture. Jordan was used to the noises of the city. With a grunt, she slipped out of bed and flipped on the light, and then went into the kitchen to get a bottle of water from the fridge. She padded back to the bedroom and retrieved a small notebook and pen from her purse. Returning to the living room, she plopped into the big armchair and switched on the small table lamp. The light was just enough to see by. On the top of the page in the notebook she wrote: To-Do List.

First thing on the list was to look for new curtains and buy a television. How could Lydia not have owned a TV? Next, choose paint colors for the walls—Southwestern tones throughout. Third, have Cole Roberts give her an estimate on the work to be done to the house, inside and out, including a new courtyard. Next, clean out the horse stalls, buy hay, and have the neighbor bring the horses back. Also, she’d need to call a landscaper…

Jordan halted her pen in midair and stared at the paper. This was the kind of list a new homeowner would make. It was still hard to believe. She was the new homeowner! Grinning, she set down the notebook and let her gaze drift around the room. The little adobe’s surroundings were simple, and that’s exactly how she liked it. Since Drew had crushed her dreams, it was time to make changes. From now on her new mottos would be: Simplify and live life one day at a time.

Laying her head back, she closed her eyes and continued to imagine all the improvements that could be done to the ranch to make it her own. Her eyelids grew heavy. She was finally about to nod off when a loud crash made her jump. Jordan’s eyes flew open. The sudden crashing and banging sounded like metal cans under assault. Were there trash cans beside the house or near the barn? She hadn’t noticed earlier. Trembling and frozen in the armchair, she tried to determine the direction from which the noises were coming.

Suddenly, a beam of light shot through the living room window and blazed across the room. Her head jerked. The curtains! She’d forgotten to close them before going to bed. Her heart started to race.
Someone’s outside! I need a weapon
.
What can I use for protection?
She leaped out of the chair and dashed into the kitchen. After grabbing a mop leaning against the counter in a bucket of sudsy water that she hadn’t dumped yet, she gritted her teeth.
Not the dripping mop, dummy! You’ll slip and kill yourself. A knife is what you need!

She yanked open the silverware drawer—made a quick mental note to straighten it later—and fumbled through the utensils until she found a carving knife. She raised it to the light of the moon which shown through the clear kitchen window. The knife’s sharp edge glinted like a diamond. Bolting back across the room, she flipped off the table lamp. Had she locked the front door? She couldn’t remember. Surely she had, but she wasn’t sure. Her mind was in a jumble. She ran to the front door. Her hand touched the lock just as something outside bumped against it.

Jordan bit back the urge to scream. She flipped the lock and swung away to press her back against the wall. By this time, the banging and clanging had stopped, but there was that other noise again. It was a bump against the door, and a whimper. Raising the knife into the air, she prepared to strike. Her heart had nearly skittered to a stop. The slamming of car doors and the squealing of tires left her confused, but relieved. She scooted to the front window and peeked out just in time to see an old pickup peeling down the drive. Despite the moonlight, the truck kicked up dust. It was too dark to make out a license plate number or the make or model of the vehicle. Everything had happened too fast.

She lowered the knife to her side and inhaled several deep breaths. Before sorting out what had just happened, something like claws scratched on the door. She jumped again. Could it be a bear? She was out in the middle of nowhere where anything was possible. She gripped the knife securely and peered out the window again. A dog jumped up and pawed at it. Her hand fluttered to her chest. When she rapped on the glass, the dog sat on its haunches and barked. Still holding the knife, Jordan unlocked the door. The dog ran in and sniffed around like he owned the place. She slammed the door shut and quickly relocked it.

“Who might you be?” she asked the black and white Border Collie. The dog sat down on the tile floor and wagged its tail.

“Where did you come from? Was that you knocking over my trash cans?”

Although that was possible, Jordan knew the dog hadn’t flashed a light in her window, but the one-sided conversation helped calm her jittery nerves.

“You look like a nice little fellow,” she said, petting his head. A silver nameplate on his collar caught her eye. She flipped on the living room light and read the engraving.

“Tag. I wonder where you came from. Wherever it was, you arrived just in the nick of time. I think you helped chase away a bad guy.” The thought of someone lurking around her property in darkness sent chills across the nape of her neck and down her arms. Glad for the company, she scratched the dog under the chin and he licked her hand.

“You’re my hero, little guy. Let’s see if I have a treat for you.”The Border Collie followed Jordan into the kitchen. She laid the knife on the counter and opened the fridge to survey the meager pickings.

“I hope you like ham. Of course you do,” she chuckled. “What dog doesn’t like meat?” She tossed a slice of ham into the canine’s open mouth. He swallowed it whole and licked his lips. When he barked for more, she wondered if she was doing the right thing by feeding him people food. She didn’t know much about animals. The ring of the telephone on the kitchen counter was unexpected and made her jump again.

“Well, I guess that phone does work,” she told the dog. “Excuse me, Tag.” He sat obediently on the floor with his tongue hanging out. The phone jingled again.