Гарольд Роббинс - The Raiders

Nevada Smith fascinated Toni even more than Jonas did. As a little girl she had gone to as many of his movies as she could. He was everything anyone might have expected of him: the tall, rawboned, sun-wrinkled Westerner, probably seventy years old. He dressed like the movie cowboy he had been — more like William Boyd as Hopalong Cassidy than like one of the singing cowboys.

Smith was a neighbor, with a ranch of his own not far away. The connection between him and the Cords was greater than that, but what it was was not apparent. Bat himself didn't know what it was.

Bat had explained who Robair was. Tonight he was a guest. He had come to Nevada from New York two days ahead of everyone else and had decorated the house for Christmas. A tree, which reached the ceiling, was strung with popcorn and hung with dried fruits and simple paper ornaments, no silvered glass balls, no colored lights. Complimented on it, Robair said that Nevada had helped him. It was amusing to think of those two old men solemnly stringing popcorn.

They sat down for dinner. A pair of ranch hands in white jackets served awkwardly.

When the wine was poured, Jonas rose and offered a toast. "To my daughter and my newfound son." He nodded at Nevada and Robair. "To old friends." He nodded at Toni and Angie. "And new. I'm happy we're all together."

After dinner the evening turned painful for Toni. Not knowing who would be there, she had come with small presents for Bat and his father but none for anyone else. Jo-Ann was in the same situation. So, for that matter, was Angie, though she seemed comfortable with it.

It was embarrassing to receive gifts from the hands of people you had just met — particularly such gifts as they were. Nevada Smith gave her a .30-30 Winchester lever-action carbine, telling her he would take her out and teach her to shoot before she left Nevada. The old man's innocence in giving such a gift was endearing and at the same time ominous — in that it meant he expected she would be spending a lot of time in Nevada.

Robair gave her a pair of tight, tapered blue jeans, a blue-and-white-checked wool shirt, and a Stetson hat: riding clothes. This, too, assumed she was not just a one-time guest.

Jonas Cord gave her a pair of handmade snakeskin Western boots. And a bracelet set with rubies and diamonds. For a moment she was tempted to say no, she couldn't accept it.

Bat gave her a silver and turquoise squash-blossom necklace.

Her father and stepmother, apart from disliking her being in Nevada and not in Florida for Christmas, had warned her that going out there implied a commitment. Apparently the Cords thought so, too. She was being treated like a Cord.

Jonas gave Bat a Porsche automobile, saying he ought to have one in the States, since he drove so well. He gave another one to Jo-Ann, telling her Bat would teach her to drive it. He gave a third one to Angie. They were identical, and they carried Nevada license plates: CORD ONE, CORD TWO, CORD THREE.

Toni had brought "the basic little black dress," this one of silk satin, supported by spaghetti straps, with a skirt ending exactly at her knees. The heavy silver squash-blossom necklace would be incongruous with the dress, but Bat wanted her to put it on. His father wanted her to wear his gift, too: the jeweled bracelet. She went to their room — and it was their room, not hers alone: another manifestation of the assumption behind her invitation — to leave the little string of cultivated pearls and don her extravagant new jewelry.

Bat followed her to the room.

"Bat ... You and your father are more alike than I could have dreamed."

"What do you mean?"

"You arrange things. So that people can hardly back away from them. He is manipulative. And so are you."

"We can talk later," he said.

"I am not your fiancée, Bat," she said when they were in bed, a little after midnight. "Your father has made an assumption. Have you?"

"No. I've been reminded how much I love you."

"But your father assumes —"

"Yes, he assumes we are going to marry. He also told me I was a fool not to accept the idea you should have a career of your own."

"He did?"

"I grew up in a different tradition," said Bat. "I am an American in all but the basic things: family and so on. I'm learning."

She put her hand to his crotch and fondled his erect penis. "I've missed you, Bat," she said softly. "If we — Are you going to be in New York? That is, New York and Mexico City?"

"I'm not certain," he said. "I think my father is going to offer me a retainer as attorney for some part of the family business."

"My god, you can't take it!"

"That's what I've thought. Give me your reasons."

"Your father is a fine man, Bat. He's not what I expected. But he's like a — What is he like? What can I say? Everything that comes within his reach becomes his . If you go to work for him, you'll belong to him."

"But I'm his son. If he and I can get along together, I could inherit —"

"Forget what you'll inherit! Think about what you can be and what you can build on your own. Think what you will give your own children, not what you'll get from him!"

"Toni, he's not exactly what you think."

"Okay, he's a great warm-hearted, generous spirit — and he'll crush you. You've got ability of your own, Bat. You don't need him."

"Maybe he needs me."

"Sure he does. The question is, do you need him?"

"I can cope with him," said Bat grimly. "I know more about him than you do, and I can cope with the son of a bitch."

"You'd better read the history," she said. "The fields are strewn with the corpses of people who thought they could cope with your father and grandfather. What a horrible cliché! But there's truth in it. You can't cope with him. Nobody ever did."

"Maybe you underestimate me," said Bat somberly.

"If you let him drag you into his business, it will be a lifelong fight," she said. "And you'll lose."

"Maybe not. If you'll help me —"

"I'll help you, Bat. I love you."

"Then we can marry?"

"Not yet. Being married to you will be a full-time job, and I'm not finished with my other job yet."

"Toni, goddammit —"

"Patience, Bat. Besides ... Let's don't waste a night in bed arguing. I've got something better in mind."

They didn't have a night to waste. At six on Christmas morning they were wakened by a knock on the door. Robair had come to tell Bat his father wanted to see him.

The usual heavy Cord breakfast was not yet on the dining table, but a small table in Jonas's office was set with a breakfast of sausage, scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee. Already, this early in the morning, Jonas had a bottle at hand and was sipping bourbon. He wore a heavy gray turtleneck sweater and blue jeans.

"Before the girl's up, before anybody else is up," he said to Bat, "I want to talk to you alone."

"You summoned me out of a warm bed with a warm body," said Bat ruefully.

"There are more important things. I've got something I want to talk with you about. As we might put it ... your future. I hear you're a good lawyer. You've got a promising career ahead of you. On the other hand, you're an heir. In due time you will inherit ... probably half of my estate."

"I never expected anything like that," said Bat. "I'm surprised even now that you should say it."

"Who else is going to get it? What do you think of your half sister? Jo-Ann's a smart girl. But her talents, if I'm any judge, lie more toward the artistic. Her mother has encouraged her in that. Anyhow, she can't take over the business after I'm gone or have got too old to run it anymore."

"I wouldn't underestimate her," said Bat.

"When I was twenty-five years old and my father died suddenly, I came into possession of the whole shebang. One minute I was a careless kid having a good time. The next minute I was one of the wealthiest young men in America — but also one saddled with a heavy and complex burden. I could have lost it all. Almost did. The various Cord businesses, what some people call the Cord empire, are worth ten times and more what they were worth when my father died. People say I did it by being tough, not by being smart."