Page 24 of River Legacy (Powder River #5)
“What are you talking about?” she demanded. “He told you to come here and humiliate me?”
“No. He suggested I try to win you over. He even promised that if I did, he would let me out of my contract with him. But screw that. I never wanted you, spoiled princess. I despise you. I only wanted the money. So ruining your chances with Ryder Stafford was just the fun part for me because what your father really wanted was the Stafford Ranch. Now there is no way in hell he’ll get it.
As for you...” he raked a disgusted look over her “. . . you get your comeuppance from a cowboy.” He laughed. “Ironic, isn’t it?”
“When I tell my father what you did—”
“Honey, I have nothing to lose. Your old man has taken my dignity and my honor and my self-respect. Now he’ll take my money and ruin my life. I’d like to kill him, but disgracing his daughter will have to do. At least for now.”
“You are such a bastard,” she said as he drove away from the Stafford house and down the lane to the country road.
As they passed through the stand of cottonwoods, she tried to see the Powder River.
She caught glimpses of it in the rays of sunshine cutting through the trees.
Her heart ached because the river seemed to symbolize Ryder in her mind.
She would always remember the feel of the sun as she and Ryder sat on the rock in the middle of the river, the sparkling water all around them on the perfect summer day.
She closed her eyes, hating the tears that welled behind her lids. This shouldn’t hurt as much as it did.
“Y ou’re just going to let her go?” Brand asked as Ryder came deeper into the barn. He could see where his brother had been shoveling out one of the stalls. Grabbing a shovel, he swore under his breath and stepped into the next stall. Of course Brand had heard every word that had been spoken.
“Don’t want to talk about it.”
“She really got to you, didn’t she?”
He kept shoveling, hearing his brother stop to lean on his shovel.
“I was skeptical at first,” Brand continued. “But even if it was planned, you got to her too.”
Ryder stopped shoveling for a moment. “It was never going anywhere. We come from two very different worlds. Not to mention if we got together, her father would have what he wanted from the beginning—the Stafford Ranch.”
“That’s the part that doesn’t make any sense,” Brand said. “If Forester sent his flunky here acting as a catalyst like he said, then it didn’t work. He drove the two of you further apart, not closer.”
Ryder shook his head. “All I know is that I don’t trust the man, and she’s a lot like him.”
“What worries me is that as badly as he wanted the ranch, I can’t see him giving up so easily,” his brother said. “What if he’s found another way?”
“I can’t imagine what that would be.” He shook his head.
“I hope I never hear the man’s name again,” he said pointedly and started shoveling again.
As he did, he tried not think about Vicky, but images of her kept coming back fast and painful.
Her on the horse, her in the creek, her driving the flatbed, her smiling up at him on the dance floor, her in his bed making love.
She’d left her mark on not just him but the ranch.
He feared he wouldn’t be able to banish her memory every time he climbed behind the wheel of the truck or rode up into the mountains to that spot she had loved so much.
He didn’t want to believe it had all been a lie, a plot, a ruse—to what?
Trick him into marrying her so her daddy could get his hands on the ranch some way.
That was the worst part. He’d begun to see her here on the ranch as his wife.
He hadn’t realized how much that image had seemed so real; he’d almost believed it.
He’d thought about their children and the life they would have had.
Even then though a part of his brain knew it was only a dream.
But a dream so real he thought he could reach out and touch it. He’d never felt like that ever before.
The women he’d dated were from the area and knew this life. With Vicky he’d seen the ranch through her eyes in a whole new way as if there was something magical about his life.
Well, that magic was now gone, he told himself as he continued to work. He could hear his brother in the next stall doing the same. For a moment, it felt as if it had all been a dream and none of it had happened.
“I suppose we won’t be naming the new colt after her, then,” Brand said, making him swear.
W endell tapped on CJ Stafford’s apartment door, hoping the older Stafford brother was ready to back up his claims. He couldn’t see how CJ thought he was going to get possession of the ranch.
The man was living in an apartment in Miles City, and he’d just barely escaped going to prison.
No wonder he was skeptical about the cocky former rancher.
All he could think was that CJ better be telling the truth.
The man didn’t know who he was dealing with otherwise.
Wendell felt grumpy after spending the night in a motel.
He’d gotten up this morning ready to do business or head home.
CJ had insisted he come by the apartment.
Wendell suspected the man didn’t want him going by the Stafford Ranch.
While CJ had promised to make it worth his time, he was definitely having his doubts.
“You and I really need to talk,” CJ had said on the phone. “I can get you what you want. Stafford Ranch. Lock, stock and barrel.”
“And what do you get out of it?” Wen had asked.
CJ had chuckled. “Money. That doesn’t bother you, does it?”
“Not in the least.”
He knocked again, growing impatient that he’d had to wait even a few seconds before the door opened. He took in the cocky man standing in the doorway. He saw at once CJ’s resemblance to his brother Ryder. Both had the thick head of blond hair, those deep green eyes and similar handsome looks.
The difference was also just as apparent.
There was a callousness in this man that verged on cruelty.
Wendell could see it in the set of his jaw, in the cold depth of the green eyes, in every cell of his body.
CJ had a chip on his shoulder and an ax to grind.
He was a loose cannon, since this was personal for him.
He wasn’t just after the money. He was after vengeance.
That alone should have warned Wendell that this was a mistake.
“Come on in, and let’s talk business,” CJ said, stepping back to allow him to enter.
He hesitated, good sense trying to win out over greed.
He wanted that ranch for what lay beneath it.
Methane gas and lots of it. He would make a fortune because he didn’t give a damn that the wells might ruin the water supply or at some point be abandoned and poison the soil and even the groundwater.
Against his better judgment, he stepped in. The apartment looked unlived in—almost more like a staged scene than a real residence.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
Wendell declined, surprised that there were glasses and dishes in the cabinets of the small kitchen as he took a seat on what appeared to be a brand-new couch.
He knew instinctively that CJ hadn’t put any of this here.
Furnishing this apartment was the last thing the man would have done.
Wendell had heard that his mother had pulled some strings to get him out.
Knowing Charlotte Stafford, Wendell just bet she had.
He watched him pour himself a Bloody Mary. “How long have you been out?”
CJ chuckled. “Did a little background check on me, did you? I would expect nothing less. That concern you? ”
“Only if you’re planning to do something that will get you sent back in the can before I get the ranch.”
“A man after my own heart,” he said. “You want the ranch. I can get it for you. The question is how much are you willing to pay me for it? A Bloody Mary all right with you?”
Wendell nodded. “But first, I’d like to know how you think you can get the ranch free and clear? Your mother, I believe, is still the owner, and you’re one of five possible heirs.”
“That’s true, but I’m my mother’s favorite.”
“Still?” He glanced around the apartment. “Then, why are you living here and not on the ranch?”
CJ smiled. “This is only temporary. My mother’s idea for the moment.
She got all the charges against me dropped.
She’s waiting for me to prove how much I’ve changed.
” He chuckled as he carried over the two drinks, one of them overflowing.
What looked like blood splattered on the new rug in front of the couch.
“You’re on probation,” Wendell said, worried this man wouldn’t be able to hold it together long enough to get the ranch. “As I understand it, one little misstep and you’re back behind bars.”
“You let me worry about that,” the eldest Stafford said as he handed him his drink and took a seat at the other end of the couch. The one thing CJ Stafford wasn’t short of was arrogance, Wendell thought. Not that it was a bad thing, he told himself.
CJ took a sip of his drink, then looked down the length of the couch at him with those ice-cold green eyes. “How badly do you want the Stafford Ranch?”