Her Right-Hand Cowboy. Marie Ferrarella
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and then I’m going back to Dallas.”
Cash frowned slightly. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to postpone your return back to Dallas,” he informed her politely.
Ena’s eyes widened as she stared at the lawyer. “Wait, what? Why?”
Cash realized that he had forgotten one very important step. Extending his hand to her, he said, “First of all, please allow me to express my condolences on the death of your father—” He got no further.
Ena waved her hand, symbolically wiping away whatever else he had to say along those lines. She didn’t want his sympathy or anyone else’s.
“You can save your breath, Mr. Taylor,” Ena said. “My father’s been dead to me a long time, just as, I assume, I have been dead to him.”
Cash shook his head, wanting to correct her mistaken belief. “I’m afraid I—”
“If he didn’t tell you, Mr. Taylor, let me,” Ena volunteered. “From the minute I was born, my father and I never got along. After my mother died, that hostility just increased by a factor of ten. I took off the day after I graduated from high school. And I’ve never looked back.” That wasn’t strictly true, but she saw no point in elaborating.
Cash nodded. “Yes, your father told me.”
Ena shifted in her seat, uncomfortable at the very idea of being here. “To be honest, I’m not really sure why he left the ranch to me. I just assumed he was going to run the ranch forever.”
“Unfortunately,” Cash began, “forever had a timetable.” He lowered his voice a little as he added, “And we are all very sorry to have lost him.”
Right. He had to say that, Ena thought.
“Uh-huh,” she finally responded, only because she felt she had to say something.
“As for leaving the ranch to you,” Cash continued genially, “you are the only living member of his family.”
She wanted to be on her way back to Dallas. “All right, so tell me what I need to sign or do to get this sale moving along,” she requested. As far as she was concerned, this was already taking too long.
“What you need to do,” he informed her, “is to stay here for the next six months.”
Ena stared at the man opposite her in disbelief. “You’re serious?” she asked, stunned.
Cash nodded. “Absolutely. Those are the terms of your father’s will.” To prove it, he read the brief section to her.
Ena made an unintelligible noise. “Even from beyond the grave, that man found a way to put the screws to me,” she cried.
“In your father’s defense, I think that he thought of it as a way to bring you back to your roots,” Cash told her.
“My roots,” she informed him stubbornly, “are in Dallas.”
“That might be,” Cash conceded. “But your father saw it differently.”
Ena rolled her eyes. “My father saw everything differently. He made it his mission in life to contradict every single thing I said or did,” she informed him.
Cash did his best to attempt to smooth over this obviously rough patch. “I realize that there was some bad blood between you years ago—”
“There was always bad blood between us,” she informed the lawyer tersely. “The only reason it wasn’t spilled was because my mother—who was a saint, by the way, for putting up with the man—acted as a buffer between us. Once she was gone, there was no one to step in and try to make my father be reasonable—so he wasn’t. Everything that ever went wrong was, in his opinion, my fault.”
Ena stopped abruptly, catching herself before she could get carried away.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “My father always had a way of bringing out the worst in me. How long do I have to decide whether or not I’m going to abide by the terms of this will of his?” she asked.
“I’m afraid you have to if you want to keep the ranch,” Cash told her.
“So I guess that’s the decision before me,” she said. “Whether or not I want to keep the ranch. Tough one,” she said flippantly. “How long did you say I have before I have to give you my decision?”
Cash stared at her. For the moment, she had managed to stump him.
Knowing some of the circumstances behind Ena’s relationship with her father, Cash cleared his throat and tried to be as diplomatic as possible. “I realize that the situation between you and your father wasn’t exactly the best.”
Ena suppressed the involuntary harsh laugh that rose to her lips. “I take it that you have a penchant for making understatements, Mr. Taylor.”
“Call me Cash.” He didn’t comment on Ena’s observation. “Things aren’t always the way that they seem at first glance.”
Ena folded her hands before her on the desk. Her knuckles were almost white. “If you’re referring to my father,” she told the lawyer evenly, “Bruce O’Rourke was exactly the way he seemed. Cantankerous, ornery and dead set against everything I ever said or did.” She drew back her shoulders, sitting ramrod straight in the chair. “My fate was sealed the day I was born, Mr. Taylor—Cash,” she corrected herself before the lawyer could tell her his first name again.
“That’s being a little harsh, wouldn’t you say?”
“No,” she replied stiffly, “I wouldn’t. If anything, I’m being sensitive. My father was the harsh one.” A dozen memories came at her from all directions, each with its own sharp edges digging into her. Ena winced as she struggled to block them all out. “He never forgave me for being the one who lived,” she told Cash quietly.
Cash looked at her, completely in the dark as to her meaning. “I’m sorry?”
She had probably said too much already. But word had a way of getting around in this little town and if he didn’t know about her father’s tempestuous relationship with her, he would soon. He might as well hear it from her. This way, he’d at least get a semblance of the truth. It was his prerogative to believe her or not.
“I had a twin brother. It turned out that my mother was only strong enough to provide the necessary nourishment and bring one of us to term.” She took a deep breath as she regarded her folded hands. “My brother didn’t survive the birth process. I did. My father had his heart set on a boy. I was just going to be the consolation prize.” She raised her eyes to meet Cash’s. “He never got over the fact that I survived while my brother was stillborn. My father spent the rest of his life making me regret that turn of events.”
Deeply ingrained diplomacy kept Cash from arguing with Ena’s take on the matter. Instead, he said, “Still, he did leave the ranch to you.”
“No,” she contradicted, “he dangled the ranch in front of me and left me with a condition, which was something he always did.” She thought back over the course of her adolescence. “He enjoyed making me jump through hoops—until one day I just stopped jumping.”
Over the course of his career, Cash had learned how to read people. Right now, he could anticipate what his late client’s daughter was thinking. “I wouldn’t advise doing anything hasty, Ms. O’Rourke. Give the terms of your father’s will a lot of thought,” Cash advised.
“I’ve already thought it over,” Ena informed the lawyer, “and I’ve decided not to play his game.”
Cash’s eyes met hers. “Then you’re going to let him win?”
Ena looked at