Heartbreak Ranch. Fern Michaels
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covered with animal droppings and litter.
The thought that this was her legacy made Amy groan. “Oh, Toddy, I don’t know....”
“That’s the last of it,” the boy said, walking up behind her.
Only when he held out his hand, did Amy remember that she needed to pay him. She reached into her reticule, pulled out three coins and dropped them into his palm.
“Much obliged, ma’am. Let me know if you need me for anything else, you hear?”
Amy could only nod. The fact was, she needed so much she didn’t know what to ask for first. Dazed, she stared after him as he climbed into the wagon and released the brake. He was beyond shouting distance when she thought to ask how she was supposed to contact him.
Toddy snapped her out of her thoughts when he jumped up on his hind legs and dropped his big paws on her shoulders.
“Good grief! What are you doing?” she asked, struggling to push him off. “Down, Toddy. Get down.”
She barely finished speaking when a raccoon scampered out of its hiding place and ran between them, then out the door.
Amy screamed and jumped back.
Toddy yipped and lurched forward, yanking his leash out of her hand. He ran after the creature at a full gallop.
Amy chased him, yelling for him to stop. Finally, the raccoon darted up an oak tree and sat on a branch looking smugly down at the dog.
“Bad dog!” Amy scolded between gasps. She tried to pull him away from the tree, but he fought her every step, twisting and turning, barking and yipping. She had no idea how to control the animal. Nothing on the list Howard had given her covered chasing raccoons up trees. Remembering that his other commands were in her mother’s journal, she decided to look them up at the first opportunity. On her way back to the house, she stopped at the pile of baggage and supplies and opened her satchel. She pocketed a handful of Toddy’s bite-size treats, thinking they might come in handy if Toddy gave her any more trouble.
Looking up at the sky, she figured she had about an hour before nightfall. After her town meal, she wasn’t hungry, which meant she wouldn’t have to tackle the kitchen area just yet. That was a relief, since it was the dirtiest.
She supposed the first thing to do was to put the bedroom in order so she would have a clean place to sleep. She tied Toddy to a porch post and fed him the leftover beef she’d saved from her supper.
It took less time than anticipated to clean the bedroom and make up the bed. As soon as she finished, she went outside to get her mother’s painting. Having already decided against hanging it in the main room because of the difficulty she would have explaining it to anyone who saw it, she opted for the bedroom.
Lifting the heavy, gilt-framed, life-size nude up to the nail above the bed proved to be a challenge. It took her three tries before she succeeded, then she jumped down off the bed and stood back to admire her efforts.
“You’re home, Mama,” she said, feeling a little foolish talking to an inanimate object. “I know it’s not exactly what you had in mind, but I promise you that one day it will be everything you dreamed of and more.”
A pistol shot interrupted her one-sided conversation.
Amy shrieked, jumped back and flattened herself against the wall next to the window. Outside, Toddy barked furiously. Dear God, don’t let him get shot. Cautiously, Amy sidled up next to the window and peeked out. At first, all she saw was Toddy fighting against his rope. Then she saw a half dozen men on horseback galloping toward the house, their guns drawn. Who were they? What did they want? She looked around for something to use as a weapon, then realized the futility of it. If they meant to do her harm, she was virtually at their mercy.
As she waited, something drew her gaze to the painting. Be brave, chérie. I am with you. I will always be with you.
Outside, an angry voice called out, “Whoever you are, get out here.”
Amy straightened her spine, smoothed back her hair and headed for the door.
The riders, still astride their horses, formed a semicircle several yards from the porch step. The sun had slipped below the horizon making it impossible for her to see their faces clearly.
“Who are you and what do you want?” In spite of her resolve, her voice cracked.
One of the six nudged his horse a step forward. “Name’s Walker Heart and you’re trespassin’ on my property.”
“There must be some mistake,” Amy replied without hesitation.
“Damn right there is,” the man rejoined. “And you made it. Now get the hell off my land.”
Amy gasped. No one had ever spoken to her in such a crude manner. Forgetting to be cautious, she stomped out onto the porch, where Toddy’s loud, insistent barks provoked her all the more.
“Toddy, quiet,” she commanded so sternly that the curly, white canine lay down and put his head between his paws. “And you, Mr. Heart,” she said, pointing an accusing finger, “I’ll thank you to mind your language. You happen to be speaking to a lady.”
Walker Heart’s eyes widened in surprise at the blue-eyed blonde decorating his front porch. From a distance she hadn’t appeared to be anything
special—just another squatter’s wife. He’d ordered the last squatters off his property a month ago and threatened to shoot them if he ever saw them on his land again. He was sick and tired of folks trying to take what didn’t belong to them and had decided to get tough even if it meant gaining a reputation as a bully.
Damned if she isn’t the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen, he thought. And the maddest. Feet slightly apart, arms akimbo, she looked ready to do battle. But so was he. He rearranged himself in the saddle and leaned forward over the saddle horn. “I’m only gonna to tell you one more time. This is my land and I want you off it. Now.”
His land. Amy’s heart sank. Was it possible that this wasn’t Heartbreak Ranch after all? Had the boy made a mistake and brought her to the wrong ranch?
She was about to tell the rude Mr. Walker Heart that she would gladly leave if she had the means to do so when a thought struck her. Heart was the name on the deed.
“Are you related to a Sam Heart?” she ventured, hoping two and two would make four.
Walker cast a sideways look at the Indian next to him, then turned back to her. “He’s my pa.”
“Oooh.” She unconsciously drew the word out as far as it could go. It was a relief to know she was right where she was supposed to be. But why didn’t Walker Heart know it? Wouldn’t his father have told him that he’d sold their property?
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, nudging the brim of his hat back off his forehead.
He was so arrogant. So cocksure. So infuriating. If he wasn’t so mean and nasty, she might feel sorry for him and regret having to be the one to tell him he no longer had a claim on Heartbreak Ranch. As it was, she felt a sort of perverse satisfaction.
“I believe the mistake is yours, Mr. Heart,” she said with all the haughtiness she could muster. “I am the new owner of Heartbreak Ranch.”
Walker gave a sarcastic chuckle. “You expect me to believe that? What do I look like, a fool?”
Amy’s eyebrows arched to a peak. A fool? Him? Actually she had a different word in mind but was too much of a lady to utter it.
“I would not make such a claim if I didn’t have the proof. It’s in my trunk—a deed signed by your father.” She expected some sort of reaction but none surfaced. “If you and your men will move your horses out of the way, I’ll get it and you can see for yourself.”
Nobody moved.
Amy waited a moment longer. If they thought they were going to intimidate