Rawhide and Lace

He went into town after the funeral to see Ed Johnson, the family’s attorney. With the strain between himself and his brother, Ty expected that Bruce had tried to keep him from inheriting his share of Staghorn—an assumption that proved to be all too true.

Ed was pushing fifty and balding, with a warm personality and a keen wit. He rose as Ty entered his office and held out his hand.

“I saw you at the funeral,” he said solemnly, “but I didn’t want to intrude. I figured you’d be in to see me.”

Ty took off his cream-colored Stetson and sat down, crossing his long legs. He looked elegant in his blue pinstriped suit, every inch the cattle king. His silver eyes pinned the attorney as he waited silently for the older man to speak.

“Bruce has changed his will three times in the past year,” Ed began. “Once, he tried to borrow money on the estate for some get-rich-quick scheme. He was so changeable. And after last week, I feared for his sanity.”

Last week. Just after he’d received Erin’s letter. Poor boy, Ty thought. He closed his eyes and sighed. “He cut me out of his will, obviously,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Got it in one,” Ed replied. “He left everything he had to a woman with a New York address. I think it’s that model he was dating a few months back,” he mumbled, missing Ty’s shocked expression. “Yes, here it is. Miss Erin Scott. His entire holdings. With the provision,” he added, lifting his eyes to Ty’s white face, “that she come and live on the ranch. If she doesn’t meet that condition, every penny of his holdings goes to Ward Jessup.”

Ward Jessup! Ty’s breath caught in his throat. He and Ward Jessup were long-standing enemies. Jessup’s ranch, which adjoined Staghorn, was littered with oil rigs, and the man made no secret of the fact that he wanted to extend his oil search to the portion of Staghorn closest to his land. Although Ty had been adamant about not selling, Jessup had made several attempts to persuade Bruce to sell to him. And now, if Erin refused to come, he’d have his way—he’d have half of Staghorn. What a priceless piece of revenge, Ty thought absently. Because Bruce knew how much Erin hated Ty—that she’d rather die than share a roof with Tyson Wade—he’d made sure big brother would never inherit.

“That’s the end of it, I guess,” Ty said gently.

“I don’t understand.” Ed stared at him over his glasses.

“Bruce had a letter from her last week,” the younger man said, his voice level, quiet. “She was in a wreck some time ago. She’s been crippled, and she lost the child she was carrying. I’m responsible.”

“Was it Bruce’s child?”

Ty met the curious stare levelly. “No. It was mine.”

Ed cleared his throat. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Not half as sorry as I am,” he said, and got up. “Thanks for your time, Ed.”

“Wait a minute,” the attorney said. “You aren’t just giving up half your ranch, for God’s sake? Not after you’ve worked most of your life to build it into what it is?”

Ty stared at him. “Erin hates me. I can’t imagine that she’d be charitable enough to want to help me, not after the way I’ve treated her. She has more reason than Bruce to want revenge. And I don’t have much heart for a fight, not even to save Staghorn. One way or another, it’s been a hell of a week.” He jammed his Stetson down over his hair, his eyes lifeless. “If she wants to cut my throat, I’m going to let her. My God, that’s the least I owe her!”

Ed watched him leave, frowning. That didn’t sound like the Tyson Wade he knew. Something had changed him, perhaps losing his brother. The old Ty would have fought with his last breath to save the homestead. Ed shook his head and picked up the phone.

“Jennie, get me Erin Scott in New York,” he told his secretary, and gave her the number. Seconds later a pleasant, ladylike voice came on the line.

“Yes?”

“Miss Scott?” he asked.

“I’m Erin Scott.”

“I’m Edward Johnson in Ravine, Texas…the attorney for the Wade family,” he clarified.

“I haven’t asked for restitution—”

“It’s about a totally different matter, Miss Scott,” he interrupted. “You knew my client, Bruce Wade?”

There was a long pause. “Bruce…has something happened to him?”

“He was in an automobile accident three days ago, Miss Scott. I’m sorry to have to tell you that it was fatal.”

“Oh.” She sighed. “Oh. I’m very sorry, Mr….?”

“Johnson. Ed Johnson. I’m calling to inform you that he named you his beneficiary.”

“Beneficiary?”

She sounded stunned. He supposed she was. “Miss Scott, you inherit a substantial amount of cash in the bequest, as well as part ownership of the Staghorn ranch.”

“I can’t believe he did that,” she murmured. “I can’t believe it! What about his brother?”

“I don’t quite understand the situation, I admit, but the will is ironclad. You inherit. With a small proviso, that is,” he added reluctantly.

“What proviso?”

“That you live on the ranch.”

“Never!” she spat.

So Ty was right. He leaned back in his chair. “I expected that reaction,” he told her. “But you’d better hear the rest of it…. Miss Scott?”

“I’m still here.” Her voice was shaking.

“If you don’t meet that provision,” he said, his voice steady, even a little impatient, “your half of the ranch will go to Ward Jessup.”

There was a long silence. “That’s Ty’s…Mr. Wade’s…neighbor,” she recalled.

“That’s right. And, I might add, something of an adversary. He only wants the oil rights to Staghorn, you know. He’d sell off the stock. The ranch couldn’t survive with what would be left. There are several families whose sole support is Staghorn—a blacksmith, several cowhands, a veterinarian, a storekeeper, a mechanic—”

“I…know how big the place is,” Erin said quietly. “Some of those people have worked for the Wades for three generations.”

“That’s correct.” He was amazed that she knew so much about Staghorn.

“I need time to think,” she said after a pause. “I’ve just come out of the hospital, Mr. Johnson. It’s very difficult for me to walk at all. A trip of that kind would be extremely hard on me.”

“Mr. Wade has a private plane,” he reminded her.

“I don’t know…”

“The terms of the will are very explicit,” he said. “And they require immediate action. I’m sorry. I need an answer today.”

There was another long pause. “Tell Mr. Wade…I’ll come.”

Ed had to force himself not to grin.

“There’s just one thing,” she said hesitantly. “How long must I stay there?”