The Tycoon and the Texan (22 page)

Granny piped up, “I'll leave you all alone.”

“No. If we're going to be family, we'll keep no secrets,” Maddi said to Granny, then turned back to face Nick. “Lauren wasn't what she seemed. She was truly after your money. I hired a private investigator—”

“Private investigator? How cold and calculating.”

“I did it for your own good. She was a fraud, and I caught her stealing jewelry from the house. She wasn't from the New Orleans DeBose. Her name wasn't even DeBose. Honey, if she'd been from Podunk, I would have accepted her if you truly loved the woman, but you didn't and she was taking you for a ride.” Maddi stopped and looked directly at Nick. “I couldn't stand to have you be mistreated like . . .”

“Like you did to my father?” He jerked his head in his mother's direction.

“No.” She hesitated then drew in a deep breath. “Like me. I didn't want you to suffer the disappointments and hurt that I felt with your father. I chose to let you believe that I kicked him out, toyed with him until I didn't need him any longer. But the truth was that he was an adulterous gigolo who was only after my money. When he learned that I wouldn't inherit the Elliott trust until I turned thirty-five, his patience wore thin and he walked out, probably never giving any thought to what he was doing to his son. Three days later, he was found dead of an overdose in a hotel room with a prostitute, leaving me alone and with a precious little boy.” Tears bubbled in her eyes. “You're the only good thing that came of our relationship, Nick. That's why I was so protective of you. Too protective, I know.”

A war of emotions raged within Nick, coiling in his body like a hissing, angry snake. He was numb with increasing fury and shock. He had always thought his father was the wealthy one, and his mother had inherited his riches.

An air of calm suddenly engulfed him.

He studied his mother.

Realization shrouded Nick . . . the father he had waited on for so many years was never coming home. And it was okay.

For the first time, he viewed his mother in a different light. Her only transgression . . . trying to keep the son she loved from following in her footsteps where love was concerned.

Nick fought through the cobwebs that seemed to tangle up his thoughts to ask, “And Lauren?”

“She gladly took a check to disappear, so I wouldn't press charges for stealing. I'd hoped you'd never know, but I realize now, I should have told you the truth from the start and not tried to handle the problem for you. You're a good, honest man and would have done the right thing. I just thought I had to take charge, but I've learned my lesson. And you are right. I can't control everything and everybody.”

“But you turned right around and got involved with the Triple J sale.” A muscle in Nick's jaw quivered.

“I backed off just like you asked until yesterday when Jock called. He was in LA and saw the legal notice in the paper. He phoned me and in turn I called and gave the information to your lawyer. I thought I was doing you a favor.” She shifted her weight from one hip to the other. “However, if you had taken my calls you would have known—”

“If you'd let my business alone, McCall and I could have had a good laugh over the coincidence, instead . . .”

McCall looked up at the mention of her name. She ached inside for Nick.

His eyes caught and held hers. In their depths was a smoldering plea to help him understand, and a play of emotion on his face.

She studied him thoughtfully. Too much was being slapped at him at once.

They shared a moment.

No words were needed.

McCall slid next to him, touched his face with her fingers to let him know she understood. McCall turned back to the two ladies, both standing with hands on their hips as though waiting for a decision. “Ladies, I should be furious as hell with both of you, and believe me, neither of you are off the hook yet.” She stood tall and authoritative. “Madeline, I can't be angry with you. Josie told me that someday, I'd thank you both. So”—McCall stepped toward the Dartmouth monarch and pondered her next move—“Thank you.” She felt a bottomless peace and satisfaction as the older woman issued a warm smile and opened her arms. A genuine bond formed between the unlikely pair.

“Welcome to our family,” Madeline said as more tears found their way to her eyes. “I knew he couldn't stay pigheaded all his life.”

McCall gave her a second embrace, then quickly turned to her grandmother. “And, Granny, I could never be mad at you. But I want the truth. Nick's mother told her side of the story, but why didn't I know about Daddy's involvement?”

The crusty woman defiantly lifted her chin and glared at her granddaughter like she was about to peel the hide off a Gila monster. “Because you never asked,” she answered indignantly. “All you had to do was ask and I would have told you everything,” she snapped. “Your mother didn't care for this life or the horses. Professed to be too frail to be subjected to the elements as she called them. Pooh! Smoking and being scared too much to enjoy life made her that way.”

McCall shot her a look of disbelief that she'd be talking so poorly of the dead. But suddenly the missing pieces of her parents' life had been added to the puzzle. She saw it clearly, and understood. She continued to stare at her grandmother.

“Don't look at me that way, missy,” Granny shot. “Your mother was a wonderful person, but tried to rule my son. She was too needy and insecure to tame his devil-may-care goings-on.”

“What does that have to do with the ranch?”

“When you were pretty young, your father took your mother to California to see if she wanted to live there. She hated it, so he came back. Along the way he met J.J. Macmurphy. I think Jock was off at college during those days. They formed a friendship and before long your dad was a partner in the ranch. He didn't want your mama to know, so he kept it all from her and ultimately from you.”

“That's why I felt so comfortable at the Triple J.”

“Yes. You loved the time you stayed out there. We had a stud, Triple D Figero. Your daddy and J.J. were convinced that if one of the Triple J mares, Double Deuce Down, and our stallion got together they'd produce a winner. Sure enough, Double Down Figero won them all.”

“Now I understand why I was so connected with that particular horse,” McCall said. “Because one of the Jack Bluff stallions is in his lineage.”

Nick spoke up. “Then McCall had no way of knowing she was part owner of the ranch. All she knew was that the Triple J roan was named Asteroid. There'd be no way for her to connect the horses without their AQHA registered name.”

Granny sat down, but continued. “I think you two young'ns need time alone to work things out. Maddi and I haven't finished our supper.” She dished up a bowl of red beans.

McCall looked at Nick and watched a smile creep in the corner of his lips.

Chin set, Nick turned back to McCall. “I understand why you wouldn't have known I was the buyer, but why were you so unwilling to sell one minute and then suddenly changed your mind?” A smile ruffled his lips.

“I told you.” McCall moved closer until she faced him shoulder to shoulder. Heart to heart. “I planned to surprise you. I didn't even know where my ranch was located, certainly had no idea it was the Triple J.” She was disarmed by the smile she looked into, swallowed to settle her wild heartbeat, and continued. “I wanted it as my wedding gift to you.”

Reluctantly, they parted a few inches. “Why were you so insistent on buying it?” she challenged.

“For you . . . because you were so happy at the Triple J.”

With one simple sentence, he unlocked her heart and soul and she made room for him once again.

“One more question.” He looked squarely at Maddi, who seemed to be engrossed in replenishing her plate of mountain oysters. “Mother, is that manure on your shirt?”

“No, Nicodemus,
darling
.” She picked up a jalapeno and used it to scoop beans on her fork. “I think the proper term is horseshit. It isn't manure until it's dried.”

The stunned look on Nick's face coupled with the shock of such an uncouth statement coming from the aristocratic mouth of Madeline Elliott-Dartmouth set the stage for gaiety.

Nick tossed back his head and roared, deep and jovial.

Unable to keep her amusement under control, McCall burst into a choking laugh.

The room rocked like revelers as Madeline and Granny looked at one another in amazement, and then bent over in mirth, not stopping until tears rolled down their cheeks.

Like a Dreamsicle forgotten in the heat, McCall's willpower melted away and didn't even ask her heart for permission. When the dust settled, she threw her arms around Nick's neck and kissed him. Leaning back, looking deep into his eyes with a cocky smile, she asked, “Now, will the ranch be named Johnson and Dartmouth or Dartmouth and Johnson?”

“Well, the Texas thing to do would be name it Dartmouth and Dartmouth and call it the Double D.”

For those who wonder about Agnes, my story is true to the urban legend that on rainy nights she roams the hillside on Harris Grade between Lompoc and Santa Maria, California, trying to locate a child she lost when her carriage rolled off the side of the mountain. Whether it is a story made up by law enforcement to keep the kids off the treacherous road or not is uncertain, but try explaining that to those who have witnessed Agnes on the road.

I took creative liberty in moving Lompoc's stand of Italian stone pines that shade a path between H Street and Locust Street and placing them at the fictional Triple J Ranch.

The Texas Moon Palace was a real Texas honky-tonk in Amarillo, Texas.

And it does rain with the sun shining in Niagara Falls.

Dear Readers,

If you got a hankering for Miss Lola Ruth's Texas Caviar, I thought you'd like to have it for yourself. I hope you enjoy the Texas favorite as much as McCall, Granny, and Maddi did.

 

 

 

1 pound black-eyed peas (dried)
½ cup finely chopped jalapenos
2-ounce jar diced pimentos, drained
1 cup finely chopped green onions
2 cups diced green peppers
1 tablespoon finely chopped garlic
1½ cups diced sweet onion

 

½ cup vinegar
½ cup olive oil
cup sugar
½ teaspoon garlic powder
½ cup cilantro, chopped
½ teaspoon celery seed
Salt and pepper to taste

 

Soak peas in enough water to cover for six hours or overnight. Drain well. Transfer peas to saucepan. Add enough water to cover. Place over high heat and bring to boil until tender (approximately one hour). Drain peas well. Transfer to large bowl.

Blend all dressing ingredients, then mix into warm peas. Allow to cool before adding in all remaining ingredients and mix well. For best results, refrigerate overnight.

Serve on a bed of lettuce.

In a hurry? Substitute homemade oil and vinegar dressing with 2 cups Zesty Italian salad dressing.

 

A native Texan,
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author Phyliss Miranda still believes in the Code of the Old West and loves to share her love for antiques, the lost art of quilting, and the Wild West.

Visit her at phylissmiranda.com.

eKENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

 

Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018

Copyright © 2013 Phyliss Miranda

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

 

eKENSINGTON is a trademark of the Kensington Publishing Corp.
KENSINGTON and the k logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

 

First electronic edition: September 2013

ISBN: 978-1-6018-3119-4

 

ISBN-13: 978-1-60183-133-0
ISBN-10: 1-60183-133-1