The Girl with the Golden Spurs. Ann Major

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ never sold. The challenges in modern times were no less formidable than they had been during frontier times.

      The Golden Spurs was constantly being sued. Only Caesar’s love for the land had sustained him through these rough and challenging times.

      Not too long ago, a lowlife thief had trespassed on Golden Spurs property to steal gas pipes. He’d used a blowtorch to cut the pipe into movable sizes. The pipe had had a little gas in it and had exploded. The injured thief had sued for damages.

      Caesar had blown his stack when the plaintiff’s attorney had grilled him on the stand. As a result the thief had walked away with a huge settlement.

      Ever since, his lawyers worked hard to keep him out of the courtroom. Under tough questioning, even after hours of tutoring from his attorneys, he couldn’t be trusted not to speak the truth as he saw it.

      So, he stuck to what he was good at—ranching. Cowboying had never been work to him. He’d given the ranch and his family his best years. Not that fifty was old. Still, it was an age when a man thought about his purpose and his legacy, especially when he’d made a helluva lot of sacrifices and had asked others to do the same—and they hadn’t.

      All his children and his nephews wanted was the money. Right now they were pestering him for a bigger share of the mineral revenues.

      As if they needed more money. Oil money was like play money to them. They bought anything their hearts desired—mansions, foreign luxury cars, airplanes, jewels. The money had made even wimpy little Lizzy confident enough to strike out on her own and try to prove she was somebody.

      What the hell was that all about? New York? Crazy town. Too far from Texas. Too many people. City people. None of them with a lick of sense. He’d talked himself blue in the face, trying to get her to come home, but she was as stubborn as her mother.

      You were somebody the day you were born, girl. You were born my daughter, he’d thundered yesterday morning when he’d called her.

      But, Daddy, that doesn’t mean anything.

      It means a helluva lot to everybody in this state but you.

       That’s just the problem. I don’t deserve to be famous or rich. I didn’t do anything. And you…you’re always saying I’m wimpy….

      I never ever say that, baby girl.

       You do! When you’re mad, you do!

      Then it’s time you saddled up and changed all that.

      I wasn’t born to be a cowgirl. It’s either born in you, or it’s not. At least that’s what you always said, Daddy.

      Hell, was your smart-mouth kid throwing your own pearls of wisdom back in your face?

       What the hell’s wrong with you? You grew up on a ranch! I taught you everything I know!

       Don’t you see, this is why I had to go? I can’t live my life—with you bossing me around all the time. With you trying to make me into something I’m not. I want to make you proud, Daddy—my own way! I’m not a cowgirl! And I don’t want to be rich!

       Well, you are. If you marry out of your class, he’ll either want your land or your money!

       Like Cole, Daddy? Is that what you’re saying?

       Yes, like Cole, damn it!

      Not that Cole was quite as ornery as he’d been before he’d married Mia. Since the plane crash, he’d been annoyingly easy to deal with. There wasn’t a more talented cowboy on the ranch. Most of the hands worked in pairs to trap the worst of the bulls that had gone wild, but, hell, just like Caesar’s brother Jack, Cole rode alone. He understood bulls, understood their natures. He knew the exact second they’d turn and charge. And he was ready. Not that Caesar ever praised Cole aloud.

      As for his own kids—not one of them appreciated what Caesar had done. Not one of them wanted to do an honest day’s work. Of late he’d begun to wonder if any of what he’d thought was so damn important mattered at all.

      Had all the years he’d spent teaching Lizzy about the ranch and the business been a waste? From the moment she’d been old enough to sit in his lap, he’d taken her with him on mornings when the work would be light. Many an afternoon he’d ridden home with her limp and sunburned in his arms.

      He’d hired the best riding teachers, bought her the best rifles. He’d sent her to A&M and forced her to study ranch management, refusing to pay for another major, refusing to listen when she’d said she wanted to study English and be a writer.

      Her brothers and sister had been jealous, wanting to know why he spent so much more time on her than the rest of them. The reason was a secret that Caesar hoped he’d take to his grave.

      Lizzy wasn’t doing all that great in Manhattan. As always, Caesar had his sources. His kids couldn’t keep anything from him.

      She’d be back. Damn it, she’d be back.

      When Caesar was out of sight of the imposing white, red-roofed ranch house, he pulled in on the reins and let his gaze sweep the flat, coastal pasture. The sea of brown grasses seemed to stretch endlessly, but that was an illusion, as much in life is.

      He frowned, not that anything was amiss with the brush-choked creek or the prickly pears along the barbed wire fence or the herd of cherry-red cattle grazing placidly. Or with the black buzzards lazing high above him on an updraft.

      A red fox stood still in the distance, watching him warily from the edge of oak trees. Caesar breathed deeply, liking the rapport he felt with the wild fox as much as he liked the smell of the grass and the feel of the warm wind against this cheek. After a minute or two the fox scurried back into the thick brush.

      Once Caesar had felt safe and confident here, safe in the knowledge that he was in charge, that his kingdom was secure for future generations. No more. The world was changing too fast and there was no one in the litter he trusted to follow him. The ranch and what it stood for was threatened on all sides.

      Besides, the family wanting more of the oil and gas money, every month was a new challenge. The Golden Spurs wasn’t just a ranch. It was a global, international, multifaceted, family-owned corporation that had diversified into other businesses, and it had to compete globally. The suits in San Antonio and an uppity, younger CEO, Leo Storm, constantly tried to dictate to Caesar.

      Not that the problem that had been eating at him ever since Jim, his lawyer, had called last night was global. Another group of local jackals, distant kin of Cole Knight, had discovered yellowed copies of the same documents Shanghai had shoved in his face years ago, claiming the second generation of Kembles had stolen from their adopted sister. Just like Shanghai, the greedy bastards had had the effrontery to call his great-great-granddaddy a betraying thief and a liar, and, thereby, claim not only a large section of the ranch but all the royalties earned on the oil and gas the ranch had pumped out of the ground for the last sixty years—plus interest.

      But what really galled Caesar was the fact that the lawsuit was the result of a tip from someone in the family, who’d leaked secret information СКАЧАТЬ