Bethany Campbell - Wild Horses

Mickey gave a defensive smile. “I don’t think he’s my type.”

She wanted to escape back to her office, but Vern wasn’t through with her. “What do you mean not your type? He seems like a nice fellow. Hardworking. Polite.”

Mickey swallowed and glanced toward the sanctuary of her own rooms. “He’s nice enough,” she murmured. She hadn’t had any say in Vanek’s hiring. She’d been down with a killer case of flu, and Caro, who’d needed a foreman quickly, hadn’t wanted to bother her.

Often, though, Mickey felt that Leon Vanek was too nice, almost groveling. But this was only an intuition, and she didn’t want to say such a thing to Vern, who’d helped Caro pick him. Still, Vanek made her uncomfortable.

Her uneasiness must have shown because Vern took pity on her. He smiled kindly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t play Cupid. Carolyn’s all hearts and flowers and family-family-family now. It’s contagious. Pay me no mind. I’m a doddering old man about to become a grandpa.”

Mickey managed a smile. “You’re not doddering, and you’re not old. But I’ve got to get to back to the accounts.”

Vern’s face went serious. “Help me out first, will you? Caro called me on her car phone. Told me about Enoch. She took it harder than I thought she would. I suppose it brings back the other losses.”

Mickey nodded, for death had taken most of Carolyn’s family. Her father had deserted the family long ago and later died in Canada. Her mother and sister had both died of breast cancer. She had lost her first husband to a heart attack.

Now, both her uncles were gone, too. Beverly and the new baby were her only close blood relatives.

“I never knew Enoch,” Vern said solemnly. “Carolyn always shrugged him off as just a loner, but he sounded like a kook to me. I hope he hasn’t pulled any funny business with this will. Show me the letter, will you?”

Mickey led him into Carolyn’s office. Vern read it and shook his head. “I wonder who the hell this guy is. Hope he didn’t insinuate himself into the old coot’s life to fleece him. Enoch was getting up in years. He might have been losing his grip on reality.”

The thought was a grim one, and it had occurred to Mickey, too.

Vernon swung open the framed painting that hid the wall safe. “The original will’s in here somewhere. I’m going to take it into town and show it to Martin Avery. I want a lawyer’s opinion. I won’t have Caro cheated out of what’s rightfully hers.”

“That makes two of us,” Mickey said. There were eleven thousand acres of lease land, more than half the ranch. If Carolyn lost them, it would be ruinous to the Circle T. Next to her family, Carolyn loved the ranch more than anything in the world.

CAROLYN KNOCKED at Mickey’s door.

“Come on in,” Mickey called. She lay on the couch reading a library book. Carolyn entered, unceremoniously pushed aside Mickey’s stocking feet and sat next to her. “Well, I finally got through to the number Adam Duran gave.”

“And?” Mickey bit into an apple, her midevening snack.

“The number wasn’t a personal phone. It was a marina of some kind. I talked to a man who sounded like he was reciting the lyrics to a Calypso song.”

Mickey laughed. “So what did you learn?”

“Not much. I told him I was trying to find Duran to invite him to stay with us. He said he’d relay the message, that he’d see him later tonight.”

“Did you ask him who Duran is? What he does?”

“No. Too much noise. Like there was a party going on in the background. Anyway, I left word.”

“Hmm.” Mickey shrugged. “So what did the lawyer tell Vern?”

“Martin? He knows the old will was valid—his father’s the one who drew it up. If this Duran tries to pull something shady, Martin can handle him. He’s going to look it over and get back to us. But at this point he doesn’t think we have to worry.”

“That’s a relief,” Mickey said. “Super Barrister on the job. Hooray for Mighty Martin.”

Carolyn rumpled her hair playfully. From the front of the house, they heard the doorbell chime. A moment later, Vern knocked at Mickey’s door, which stood ajar. “Carolyn? Mickey? Come on out here. Lynn’s here. And she’s got a surprise for you.”

“Oops,” said Mickey. “Shoes? Shoes?” She groped around and slipped back into her moccasins, then followed Carolyn to the living room. Carolyn gave her niece’s cheek a smacking kiss, and Mickey greeted her with a grin.

Petite and auburn-haired, Lynn was the daughter of J. T. McKinney and Pauline, Carolyn’s late sister. In her thirties, Lynn looked young for her age, and her jeans and riding boots made her seem tomboyish. She was smiling like someone almost too joyful to contain herself.

“I just found out,” Lynn bubbled, “and I had to ride straight over to tell you in person. Guess what?”

“You’ve got a new horse?” Carolyn asked. Horses were Lynn’s passion.

“No,” laughed Lynn, “much better! Tyler and Ruth sold the winery in Napa Valley. They’re coming home! This time to stay.”

Lynn threw her arms around her aunt. She and Carolyn hugged and laughed and cried at the same time. Mickey grinned. Carolyn’s nephew—her late sister’s firstborn—coming home! Tyler was Carolyn’s favorite of Pauline’s children, and the one about whom she’d worried most.

Tyler had brains, determination and an almost endless capacity for work. What he’d never had was luck. His younger brother, Cal, seemed to prosper without effort. Tyler struggled to run two wineries that were a thousand miles apart. He was deeply in debt, mostly to Cal.

Carolyn had feared Tyler and his family might stay in California forever. His wife had inherited the Napa Valley winery. But running it was not only expensive, but a backbreaking job. Tyler’s heart belonged truly to the more humble winery he’d started in Claro County. He had sweat blood to keep both operations working.

“When did this happen?” Caro drew back to study Lynn’s beaming face.

“He called this afternoon. Ruth said she couldn’t watch Tyler work himself to death any longer. She decided she wanted to come back, and just this last weekend they put the winery up for sale. They didn’t tell anybody here, because they thought it might take forever to sell—”

Vern nodded. “True, from what I’ve read lately about the California wine market. I’m glad for Tyler. He’s had enough hard breaks.”

Lynn was so excited, she practically bounced. “But this movie star decided he wanted a winery—and it was theirs he wanted. It was just the right size, he said. So, as soon as they close the deal, in two weeks, they’ll move back.”

“To the house they built,” Carolyn said with satisfaction. “And the vineyards they planted here.”

“I’ve missed them something terrible,” Lynn admitted. Tears still glistened in her eyes.

“I know, honey,” Carolyn said. “We all have. But they had to try.”

Vern shook his head. “Two outfits, that far apart, that high maintenance—I was scared he’d work himself into an early grave trying to handle it all.”

Or go broke trying, Mickey thought. She knew Carolyn had worried about that, too. Without Cal’s help, Tyler would have failed long ago.

Carolyn took Lynn’s face between her hands. “I’m glad good luck’s finally come his way. He’s long overdue, that big brother of yours.”

“And Cal’s coming next fall, too,” Lynn said. “Both my brothers are moving home. I can’t believe it. We’ll all be together again.”

“Well, this occasion calls for one thing,” Vern announced. When the three women looked at him questioningly, he gave them a superior smile. “A toast. In wine. Texas wine.”