Cowboy at the Crossroads. Linda Warren

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      He didn’t answer, just stared at her with brooding eyes.

      Becca kept on. “She’s going to get upset, Cord. You might as well resign yourself to that. She’ll be reacting to external stimuli, and that’s what she needs instead of this inert passivity.”

      He ran both hands through his hair in a weary gesture and sank into a chair. “I just can’t take it when she cries.”

      At the pain in his voice, she took a deep breath. “Why don’t you go outside and let me spend some time with her,” she suggested, knowing she would get nowhere with Nicki if Cord was around.

      His eyes met hers. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

      “You have to,” she said, her eyes not wavering from his. “I have to reach Nicki on some level, and I can’t do that with you present.”

      He didn’t say anything and Becca added, “At this point she needs to be in a hospital unless I can do something with her right now. You can either let me try, or call for an ambulance. It’s your choice.”

      His face turned white and he drew in a long, shuddering breath. “Fine, you have until eight o’clock. Just be very careful, Becca. There is just so much I’ll allow.”

      “I will not do anything that will harm her physically or mentally.”

      “That’s all I need to know,” he said as he moved past her.

      “Cord,” she said, and he turned back. “If you hear Nicki crying, please don’t come inside.”

      There was a moment of indecision in his eyes, then he walked out the door.

      Becca removed her jacket as she went into the kitchen. She had a plan in mind and it started with dinner. A gray-haired woman was putting meringue on a pie.

      “Hi.” Becca smiled. “I’m Becca Talbert and I’m hoping you’re the housekeeper.”

      The woman glanced up. “That’s me. My name is Della. What can I do for you?”

      “What time does Nicki usually have dinner?”

      “Dinnertime is six o’clock, but with the way that child eats, it’s anybody’s guess.”

      “I’m not trying to be nosy, but could you tell me how many people will be here for dinner?”

      “Edie eats in her room and Blanche is out, as usual, so there’ll be you and Cord.”

      “I see,” Becca murmured. “Do you mind if I ask what you’re preparing?”

      Della lifted an eyebrow. “That’s a popular question today, but we’re having roast, new potatoes, carrots and fresh green beans.” She pointed to a pan of rolls. “Homemade rolls are rising, and I just finished making a chocolate pie.”

      “Does Nicki like any of these things?”

      Della shrugged. “When Anette was alive, Nicki ate almost anything. She loved chocolate pie. Used to stick her finger in the chocolate and lick it off and Anette would get mad. She wanted Nicki to be a proper lady and act like a grown-up.” Della shook her head. “The woman was very peculiar.”

      “Sounds as if you didn’t like her.”

      “Like?” Della seemed to study the word for a moment. “Can’t really say. All I know is she got on my nerves. Too damn picky. All the food for Nicki had to be cooked at a certain temperature and it couldn’t stay out too long and she wanted everything made from scratch. She also insisted that Nicki eat at certain times, never mind the rest of the household. In that case, I told her, she needed to cook the food herself, but she never did. I don’t think she knew how to cook. She was a city girl with city ways and she hated this ranch.”

      “But she loved Cord and Nicki?” Becca knew she was gossiping but she couldn’t resist. Besides, she told herself, she might learn some valuable piece of information, some fact that might help her.

      “Oh yeah, that’s why she stayed.” Della put the meringue bowl in the sink. “I never knew she was drinking so much and neither did Cord. She hid it well. Such a tragedy.” Della shook her head again. “Cord locked up her room and nothing in there’s been touched since.”

      It was a tragedy, Becca thought, and now it was time to heal—for the whole Prescott family. “Colton mentioned that she’d been on antidepressants, too.”

      “That’s right. After Nicki was born, she just seemed to hit rock bottom. On the days she felt really bad, Edie or I would watch the baby. Cord wanted to hire a nurse, but Anette wouldn’t have it. She wanted to care for her child. She really did.”

      “Then, Anette was a good mother.”

      “Yes, even I will admit that. Nicki was never out of her sight for long. I guess that’s why the little one’s taking this so hard.”

      Becca brought her concentration back to the present and Nicki. She’d been gossiping too long with Della. Something she didn’t normally do, but she was very curious about Anette. And Della had definitely filled in some of the background facts.

      “Would you please set a place for Nicki at dinner?” Becca asked.

      Della turned from the sink with a startled expression. “She’s coming down to eat?”

      “Yes,” Becca said with more confidence than she was feeling. “I’m going up to see her now, and Della, if you hear her crying or complaining, please don’t interfere.”

      “Does Cord know about this?” Della inquired, wiping her hands on her apron.

      “Yes,” Becca answered, heading for the stairs. As she walked up, she silently prayed that she could get through to Nicki. She opened the door and found Nicki sitting exactly as they’d left her—and Becca knew she had to use drastic measures to shock Nicki back into the real world. To do that, she had to be strong and keep her emotions in check.

      She knelt in front of the rocker. “Hi, Nicki,” she said cheerfully. “My name is Becca. I told you that before, remember?”

      No response, as she had expected.

      “I’m a doctor and I take care of girls and boys. If they don’t feel well, I try to make them feel better. Do you feel bad?”

      No response.

      In Becca’s experience, it was sometimes easier for a child to talk through an object like a toy. She focused on the doll in Nicki’s arms. “What’s your doll’s name?”

      Again no response.

      She sat on the floor in a comfortable position. “I had a doll similar to that when I was your age. My sis—” She stopped as she realized she was about to say sister—a minor slip of the tongue. It was so hard to think of Emily as her mother when she remembered herself at that age. Lord, she was getting sidetracked and it was a weird feeling, but one she could handle. “Actually, my mother bought me the doll. She bought me lots of dolls, but I liked that one best. I named her Chocolate because I love chocolate, and I called СКАЧАТЬ