Her Right-Hand Cowboy. Marie Ferrarella
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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 the attorney sitting on the other side of the desk. Her brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”
“Well,” he began to explain, “from what you’ve said, your father always made you feel that you were a loser. And if you walk away from the ranch, you’ll be forfeiting it, which in effect will be making you a loser. And that, in turn, will be telling your father that he was right about you all along.”
Ena scowled at the lawyer. “You’re twisting things.”
The expression on his smooth face said that he didn’t see things that way. “Maybe, in this case,” he responded, “I’m able to see things more clearly because I don’t have all this past baggage and animosity coloring my perception of things.” He slid to the edge of his seat, moving in closer to create an air of confidentiality between them. And then he punctuated his statement with a careless shrug. “I’m just saying...” he told her, his voice trailing off.
He was doing it, Ena thought, irritated. Her father was boxing her into a corner, even though he was no longer walking among the living. Somehow, he was still managing to have the last say.
Ena frowned. As much as she wanted to tell this lawyer what he could do with her father’s terms, as well as his will, she knew that Cash was right. If she tore up the will and walked out now, that would be tantamount to giving up—and her father would have managed to ultimately win.
She hated giving him that, even in death.
Blowing out a breath, she faced her father’s lawyer with a less-than-happy look.
“I have to stay here for six months?” She asked the question as if each word was excruciatingly painful for her to utter.
“You have to run the ranch for six months,” Cash corrected, thinking she might be looking for a loophole. There weren’t any.
“Can I delegate the work?” Ena asked, watching the man’s face carefully.
“You mean from a distance?” Cash asked. She wanted to oversee the operation from Dallas, he guessed.
“Yes,” she said with feeling. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
“No.” The lone word shimmered between them, cloaked in finality. “Your father was very clear about that. He wanted you to be on the ranch while you oversaw the work that needed to be done.”
Ena swallowed a guttural sound. It was all she could do to keep from throwing her hands up in frustration. “I don’t know anything about running a ranch. My father told me that over and over again,” she emphasized. “He deliberately kept me away from the day-to-day process—other than mucking out the stalls. That he was more than happy to let me do.”
“Obviously he’d had a change of heart about the matter when he had me write up the will. And anyway,” Cash went on, “you have some very capable men working at the Double E. I’m sure that they all would be more than willing to help you.”
He was right and that was exactly her point. “So why can’t I just tell them to use their judgment and keep the ranch running just the way that they always have?” she asked.
The look on Cash’s face was sympathetic. He could see how frustrating all this had to be. “Because your father’s will was very specific,” he told her.
Ena’s laugh was totally without any humor. “Yes, I’ll bet. It probably said, ‘Keep sticking pins in her side until she bleeds.’”
For the first time since they had sat down together, she saw the lawyer grin. “Not even close,” Cash assured her.
She wasn’t so sure. The sentiment was there all right, just probably hidden between the lines. “You obviously didn’t know my father as well as you thought you did.”
“Or maybe you’re the one who doesn’t know the man, at least not the way he was in his last years. It’s been ten years,” Cash reminded her. “People change in that amount of time, Ms. O’Rourke.”
“Normal people do,” Ena agreed. “But not my father. He was as set in his ways as any mountain range. To expect that mountain range to suddenly shift would be incredibly foolish.”
“So you’re turning your back on the will?” Cash concluded.
“No.” She saw that her answer surprised him, so, since he’d been the one who had attempted to talk her out of forfeiting her claim, she explained. “Because you were right about one thing. If I just metaphorically toss this back in my father’s very pale face, then he will have won the final battle and I’m not ready to let that happen. So,” she continued, taking in a deep breath, “even though it’s going to turn my whole life upside down, I’m going to stay on the Double E and work it so that I can meet those terms of his. And when I do, I’m going to sell that burdensome old homestead so fast that it’ll make your head spin, Mr. Taylor.”
Cash smiled at her. “I believe that at this point I’m beyond the head-spinning stage. Don’t forget,” he reminded her, “Miss Joan is my step-grandmother. Thanks to her, very little surprises me these days. By the way, she asked me to remind you that if you haven’t yet. She’s waiting for you to drop by to go see her.”
Ena shrugged away the reminder. “I don’t want to bother her. She’s working.”
The expression on the lawyer’s face told her that he saw right through her excuse. “You have met Miss Joan, right?”
Ena stiffened. She had no idea why he would ask her something like that. He had to know the answer was yes. “Yes, of course I have.”
“Then you know that she’s always working,” he reminded her. “I don’t think that the woman knows how not to work.”
If Ena had had any lingering doubts that Cash Taylor was actually related to Miss Joan, that put them all to rest. The man was obviously familiar with the diner owner’s stubborn streak, as well as her way of overriding any and all who opposed her no matter what that opposition was rooted in.
Ena inclined her head, conceding the point. “You’re right. I guess I’ll stop by and see her before I leave town today,” she told him, hoping that was enough to table this part of the discussion.
Nodding, Cash smiled and then extended his hand to her. “Well, welcome home, Ms. O’Rourke. I just wish this could be under better circumstances.”
“So do I, Counselor. So do I,” Ena responded with feeling. “Anything else?”
Cash shook his head. “No, I believe we’ve covered everything.”
Gripping the armrests, Ena pushed herself to her feet, ready to take her leave as quickly as possible. “Then I’ll be going now. Thank you for telling me about my father’s will—and for your guidance,” she added.
Although she silently thought that she could have done without his guidance since it made her agree to put up with her father’s terms. She was, in essence, playing the game in her father’s court. Which would make her victory when it came—and