Untamed (10 page)

Chapter Three

“It has to be on that property.” The elderly man in the expensive suit groused before he blew on his tea and took a noisy sip.

His attorney leaned forward in his seat, propping his elbows on the table. “ Mr. Dansforth, we’ve employed four people in the last two months and none of them have found anything on the Whitehorse property but palmettos, bramble, a ramshackle house, snakes and unless my memory fails me, swampland and two alligators.”

“They’re not looking in the right place. I’m telling you it’s there.”

“Well, perhaps if we knew what
it
is, we would be more successful at locating it.”

Simon Dansforth gave his attorney an evil enough look to have the man drawing back. “Michael Whitehorse was an uneducated man who barely scraped by in life. Widowed at an early age, he abandoned his only child and moved here. Here. Specifically. A man with no financial means, no employment and certainly no patrons of means, shows up here, purchases six hundred acres of land and spends more than twenty years purchasing property all over the state and awarding it to a conservancy. Again with no visible means of support, employment or patronage.

“Now, Mr. Johnston, since I pay your firm an obscene amount every year, you tell me. Where did he get the funding? The only logical explanation is that something exists on that property that is worth millions. Somehow he managed to sell without being detected.”

“The man paid his taxes every year. There are no irregularities in any of his tax records. Mr. Dansforth.”

“Except where he came by the money.”

“He listed his occupation as an artist and breeder.”

“And yet no livestock was discovered on his property.”

“Correct.”

“And how many galleries display his work? How many of his paintings have been sold?”

“Actually quite a few.”

Dansforth huffed out a breath and stood. “A pittance compared to what the man spent to give away viable land that could have been developed.”

“It was his to do with as he saw fit.”

“Yes, indeed it was. I want to know what is on that property, Mr. Johnston and I want to know sooner rather than later. Now that his offspring is taking residence we may find it more difficult to investigate.”

“Why not just make her an offer?” Mr. Johnston asked. “If what we’ve learned is right, she’s virtually penniless. You could offer less than the going rate and she is liable to snap it up.”

“Yes. Yes. Do that. Immediately.”

“But,” he added as the attorney rose. “In the eventuality that she refuses, have someone contact her about her father’s art. If we can get someone into the house perhaps a clue may be found as to what the real treasure is on Whitehorse Ranch.”

“Yes, of course. I will see to that immediately.”

“Well don’t just stand there. Get on with it.”

Simon Dansforth turned away as his attorney hurried from the room. Once alone, he left the dining room and made his way to his private study. He took a seat at the antique desk and withdrew a key from the pocket of his vest to unlock the bottom right drawer.

Inside was a stack of yellowed envelops, bound with an old red ribbon whose color had faded to pink along more than half its length.

Simon carefully untied the ribbon and selected an envelope. He withdrew the folded page within and smoothed it on the surface of the desk in front of him.

Dear Katherine,

I received your latest letter. It was so good to hear from you. It sounds like Elana is growing by leaps and bounds. I would so love to see her. Perhaps you and Michael can come for a visit soon.

I hope you were able to locate the place I told you about. It’s a special place Kat and if there is any way for you and Michael to purchase it, you have to try. When it fell out of our family’s hands and into those of our adversaries, we were scattered to the winds. I have lost touch with all but two of the family. I fear we may all be lost, if you do not do all that is in your power to try to lay claim to it.

It’s important Kat. Not just to you, but to Elana. Michael knows this. He believes in it. That’s why we chose him. Why you chose him. He’s the one who will save it. Save us. Please stay strong for him and for Elana. I know you do not want any part of this, but it’s already part of you.

A call, just to hear your voice would be welcome, honey.

I love you,

Mom.

Simon read twice through the words, then carefully folded the letter and replaced it in its envelope. He had been fortunate to have someone retrieve the letters after Bedelia died, before her granddaughter had been able to go through her things. Had Elana found the letters, she would have come looking for her father.

And if she’d found him, he would have told her about the treasure and where to find it.

And Simon could not allow that. He had lost something important once. Someone to be correct. And that someone had turned out to be connected to this same piece of land.

Simon felt anger rise as he thought about it— about Bedelia walking out on him all those years ago. He might have lost once, but he did not intend to lose again. Not ever.

* * * * *

Cam looked at the turn off to the Whitehorse place as he drove by. It had been close to a week since Ellie arrived and he had not heard anything from her. Maybe he’d read things wrong and she hadn’t been interested.

He hated to admit that he was disappointed but he was. Maybe he was letting feelings he had when he was a kid color his thinking now.

He and Ellie Whitehorse met when they were in Miss Johnston’s class in the third grade. She was a tiny waif of a girl, with big blue eyes, long raven hair, and a smile that was downright contagious.

Cam fell in love with her the first day of school. She was shy and didn’t seem to have many friends. He started sitting with her at lunch and seeking her out during recess. By the time the Halloween carnival at the school rolled around, they were best friends.

That friendship lasted until they were in middle school. Sometimes they called themselves girlfriend and boyfriend, and sometimes they didn’t but she was a constant in his life.

The year his family decided to leave North Carolina was the year he and Ellie both moved from children to adolescents. And like all preteens, became aware of things happening in their bodies and developed a curiosity about the opposite sex.

He had his first orgasm with Ellie, with her hand on him, in the backseat of his mother’s car. After that, they found ways to be alone and experimented in the way kids do.

And the night before he moved, she let him do more than touch. He had sex for the first time. It was incredible. At least for him. When he saw the blood on the backseat of his mother’s car, he freaked out. So did Ellie. And so did his mother, who caught them.

Suffice it to say, he and Ellie parted on less than happy terms. His mother drove Ellie home and when she returned, she told him he was damn lucky they were moving because he had screwed up big time having sex with that child.

Cam came back to the present. He had gone through the typical lovesick thing for Ellie for about a month. Until he got a new girlfriend. And then he didn’t think much about Ellie. From time to time memories would float up and he would regret the way their friendship ended, and he’d miss that friendship. But that was the way of things.

Seeing her now brought back memories. She was a beautiful woman now but she had an air of sadness about her that made him want to comfort her. Cam actually laughed aloud at himself for the thought. He had known many women and he had never met one he wanted to comfort, or one he wanted to bring a smile all the way to her eyes. Maybe that’s because he remembered that smile she had as a child. Ellie’s smile made you feel that everything was right with the world.

What a sap
. Cam shook his head and tried to dismiss thoughts of Ellie Whitehorse. In fact, maybe he’d go out after dinner, see if he could stir up excitement of the feminine kind.

That plan flew right out of his mind when he pulled up at the ranch and saw Lily standing by the paddock. Ellie was with her. They both turned as he parked and got out of the truck.

“Hey,” he said as he walked over to them.

“Hey,” Ellie said with a smile.

“I invited Ellie to dinner.” Lily said. “We’re gonna cook out soon as Clint’s done for the day and gets cleaned up.”

“Sounds good. I can start the grill if you want.”

“Yeah, thanks. I was just showing Ellie the new mare I got last week.”

“She’s beautiful,” Ellie said and looked back at the horse. “She reminds me— “

“Of the horse in the paintings,” Cam cut in.

“Yes!”

“What paintings?” Lily asked.

Ellie held up her hand. “Hold on. I have something for you.”

She hurried toward her truck and Lily smiled up at Cam. “She’s nice.”

“Yep.”

“I’ve been helping her get her utilities squared away.”

“That’s nice of you, Lil.”

“She’s mighty grateful to you for going through her dad’s place with her when she got here.”

“Seemed like the neighborly thing to do.”

“She’s scared of damn near everything,” Lily lowered her voice and when Cam raised his eyebrows, she held up her hand in a scout salute. “Honest to god. Lizards, snakes, mice, armadillos, frogs.”

“Seriously?”

Lily nodded. “She grew up in the burbs.”

“Yeah, I know. We went to the same school.” People who did not grow up surrounded by nature often had a difficult time adapting.

“Really? She didn’t mention that.”

“Yep. Met her in the third grade and we were friends till the family moved to Arizona.”

“No kidding. Small world.”

Just then, Ellie returned. She carried a large painting and handed it to Lily. “For all your kindness and help.”

Lily’s eyes rounded and her breath came out in a little “oooh.”

“This is incredible. Did you do this?”

“No. It was… I guess it was my father. His house was full of these. All of the same horse. I’ve been going through them, trying to sort them by year. He dated everything. This one was done about a year after he got here.”

“Aside from the color, it could almost be a Friesian.”

“Friesian?” Ellie asked.

“A breed that originated in Friesland, in the Netherlands. You’ve probably seen pictures of them— all black, very muscular with thick long manes and tails and feathers or hair on the lower legs.”

“Oh yes, I know what you’re talking about. So aren’t any Friesians white?”

“Nope. Sometimes chestnut, but even that will keep a horse from being registered. It—wait, you know it could be a Gypsy Vanner. But I’ve never seen a solid Vanner. Most are either piebald or skewbald.”

“Piebald?” Ellie asked

“Oh sorry. Piebald is black and white and skewbald is brown and white.”

“I think I’ve seen photos of those. They’re incredible. I’ve always wanted to shoot one.”

Lily’s face went immediately into an expression of shock and even Cam was taken aback. “Shoot one?”

“Oh no, not with a gun. A camera. It’s what I do. Well, part of what I do. I’m a photographer and graphic artist or designer, whichever you prefer.”

“Oh thank god,” Lily laughed in obviously relief. “But hey, if you’re serious, there’s a breeder in Ocala. I’ve had my eye on a couple of Vanners and wouldn’t mind making a day of it if you’re interested.”

“Oh I would love that! Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Hey, let’s go take this beauty to the house and let Cam get busy with the grill.”

They all headed for the house. Lily left Ellie and Cam in the kitchen and took the painting into the family room, talking over her shoulder about putting it on the hearth for now until they found the perfect place to hang it.

“Thought I might hear from you,” Cam said to Ellie.

“I was going to call,” she said. “Once I felt like I had the place in order. I kind of got sidetracked going through the paintings and sorting them by date.”

“A lot of your father’s life in those.” He commented. “And you said you’re an artist? Maybe you got your talent from him.”

“Maybe, but I’ve never done much in oils. Always wanted to but it’s a little pricey and I never could justify the expense.”

Just then, Lily returned. “Okay, cowboy, get that grill fired up. Ellie, you mind helping me get things together?”

“Not at all, just tell me what you want me to do.”

Lily grinned and cut her eyes at Cam. “Well?”

“Okay, okay, I’m going.”

She and Ellie both smiled as he turned and left. “Okay,” Lily said. “How about you chop up the salad while I wash the potatoes and get them wrapped to go in the fire?”

“Fine with me.” Ellie went to the sink to wash her hands while Lily got all the fixings for the salad from the refrigerator.

After being directed to the cutting board and knives, Ellie made herself busy.