Authors: Stacey Coverstone
That was understandable. “Okay, that makes sense to me,” Jordan said. “What I don’t get is why this Mr. Stillwell wanted her land in particular. What’s so special about those hundred acres that he’d try to bribe her or make threats against her? Surely he could find more acreage elsewhere to build a housing development on.”
The lawyer removed his glasses and set them on the desk in front of him. “This is going to sound odd to you, Ms. Mackenzie, but this area is chock-full of legends and unusual people who believe in ancient traditions and mystical things. I swear what I’m about to tell you is the truth.”
Her curiosity was more than piqued. She leaned forward. “Go on.”
Taylor cleared his throat. “Addison Stillwell is a man who believes in psychics. His personal soothsayer is an old Apache woman who lives up on Sierra Blanca, a mountain owned by the Mescalero tribe. According to rumor, several years ago she told Stillwell that your aunt’s land was blessed, and if he were to own it, he would become a very rich man. Apparently her word is gospel to him, so he’s been trying to buy the ranch ever since. Because it’s been called the Lucky Seven, even before your aunt purchased it years ago, Stillwell believes it’s a sign. He believes it’s his destiny to own that property.”
Jordan chuckled. “That’s ridiculous.”
“It may seem that way to you, as it does to me, but Addison Stillwell takes that Apache woman’s fortune telling abilities very seriously. He badgered Lydia for years without letting up.”
“I guess she put a stop to him. She never sold.”
“No, she didn’t. But he never gave up. I’m just telling you all this as a warning.”
“Do you believe he’s going to make me an offer on the ranch?”
“I have no doubt he will. I’ve known the man for many years. Addison never gives up until he gets what he wants. And he always gets what he wants, eventually.”
Jordan set her jaw and crossed her arms. “I can’t worry about something that might not happen.”
Taylor looked at her with thoughtfulness. “True. I felt it my obligation to explain the situation. That’s all.”
“I’m going to be frank with you,” Jordan said. “This whole thing has seemed dreamlike ever since I received your letter. I really don’t know why my aunt left the ranch to me. It’s a mystery I hope to unravel one of these days. But I’m thankful. I wish I would have known her. She sounds like one tough cookie.”
He chuckled. “That she was, Ms. Mackenzie. I’m happy for you. Do you plan to continue her horse rescue operation?”
She shook her head. “I’ve been a city girl all my life. I know nothing about horses. I don’t think I can continue with her cause, but I’ll care for the animals that were left to me, to the best of my ability, until I can make other arrangements for them.”
The lawyer stood and adjusted his tie. “I’m sure you’ll do a fine job, Ms. Mackenzie.” He slipped the documents into a large envelope and handed it to her. “Congratulations! You are the official owner of the Lucky Seven Ranch.” Checking his watch once more, he gave her a sheepish grin. “I hate to be rude, but I have an appointment in Alamogordo, and if I don’t leave now, I’ll certainly be late. Do you have any other questions?”
“No. Everything seems to be in order.” She stood and shook his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Taylor. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, and for the assistance and advice you gave my aunt.”
“You’re welcome. If you need my services again, or have any questions later, just call the office. Good luck to you.” He picked up his briefcase, grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair, and escorted Jordan to the front office. He held the door open for her and switched off the lights. Once they were outside, he locked the office door and said goodbye again, then hurried to his parked car.
Jordan walked to the curb and looked around allowing her thoughts to drift. She could hardly believe she was the owner of a New Mexico ranch! Thirty-five years old and she’d never owned anything of value or significance up to now, except her Jeep. Her life had taken such an amazing turn. Having no siblings, losing both parents and her grandfather so close together, and then having to put her grandma Laura in a care facility for Alzheimer’s patients, she’d not felt so lucky in recent years.
Just like others her age, she had worked a dead-end job, had a nice apartment and good friends. But what she’d wanted more than ever was marriage and a family. When she met Drew, she’d thought all her dreams had come true. Memories of those times flashed before her.
Drew was a photographer for National Geographic. Mutual friends had set them up, and the two of them had fallen in love quickly. He’d been everything Jordan always thought she’d wanted in a man. He was handsome, witty, adventuresome, and driven to be successful. Despite his career, which caused him to travel and be away from home more often than not, she’d thought he’d make a wonderful husband and father someday. For two long years they’d endured weeks, and even months, apart while he was on assignments all around the world. He’d never made her promises, but he’d always told Jordan how happy she made him.
When he was home, their life together seemed picture perfect. Sometimes he’d talk about settling down in one place, and she’d long for the day when that would happen. There were times, mostly at night, when he was thousands of miles away, when Drew would call and remind her how much he wanted to be with her. She’d thought it would only be a matter of time before he’d propose and they could move to the next step in their relationship—marriage and children. She sat down on the curb and recalled the events that had ultimately changed her life.
In the mail one day came the letter postmarked New Mexico. It began:
Dear Miss Mackenzie, I’m writing to inform you that you have inherited one hundred thousand dollars and the Lucky Seven Ranch, located in Tularosa, New Mexico, from Lydia M. Albright, who passed away on May 5.
Three days later, she’d received a phone call from Drew, who was in London on assignment. She’d been trying to reach him for days with no success. After leaving messages on his cell phone and at the hotel desk, she’d become frantic when they weren’t returned. The hotel concierge had assured her Drew had not checked out, but he never returned her calls.
When he finally did, the tone of his voice told her something was amiss. When questioned about his sobriety, he’d confessed he was drunk. He told her the craziest thing had happened and then refused to go on. Hauling the words out of him had been like drawing a bucket of water from a well.
When he’d finally admitted he’d met another woman and was in love, Jordan had felt like a three hundred pound football player had slammed her against a wall. He wasn’t coming home, he told her. She heard nothing after that.
After crying buckets of tears and feeling sorry for herself, she let her friends convince her to contact the lawyer in Tularosa. Soon after, she quit her job, packed her bags, and several weeks later, here she was— sitting on a curb in New Mexico, ready to start her life over. She glanced at the envelope in her hand. There would be no more mourning over the past and what she’d left behind. This was her future—New Mexico and the Lucky Seven. It was high time to celebrate.
Chapter Three
A bell jingled next door. Looking up from the curb, Jordan saw a sign flashing
Tulie Café
. What better way to celebrate than with comfort food! When she opened the door, she thought she’d stepped back in time. Steel bar stools with seats covered in red vinyl were pushed up to a counter with a Formica top. Behind the counter meat sizzled on an open grill, and a basic menu printed in large block letters hung on the wall. The tables were 1950’s style and the chairs were also steel with the same red vinyl seats. Booths lined the wall, and the black and white checked tile floor made her smile. Though the floor could have used a thorough scrubbing, the café was appealing and homey despite its aged retro appearance.
There were quite a few customers, unexpected considering the time of day. They all glanced at her briefly when she walked through the door, and then they went back to their own business. Jordan took a seat at the counter and perused the menu. Two cowboys, one Caucasian, one Hispanic, sat at the counter openly gawking. The Hispanic man was one stool away and the other just beyond him. The grill cook looked over his shoulder, caught a glimpse of her, and then went back to flipping burgers. A buxom waitress around Jordan’s age set a glass of water in front of her and pulled out a small notepad. Her nametag said Nicki.
“Hi. See anything you like?”
Eyeballing some slices of coconut cake sitting under a glass cake stand, Jordan said, “I’ll have a ham and cheese sandwich, iced tea, and a piece of that cake, please.”
“Sure thing. Be right back with your tea.”
Glancing around the café, Jordan noted a distinct group of customers. A couple of old men in cowboy hats sat at one table drinking coffee. When they nodded, she returned the greeting. A Hispanic man and woman in the back booth argued in low tones. A young man with green highlights in his hair and rips in the knees of his jeans straddled a stool at the other end of the counter staring with dreamy eyes at the waitress. A thin, older Indian woman, alone at a table, kept herself mostly hidden behind a magazine.
The waitress poured Jordan’s iced tea from a big pitcher taken out of the refrigerator and stuck a slice of lemon on the edge of the glass.
“Order up, Nicki!” the grill cook shouted.
“You don’t have to yell, Lonnie,” the waitress shot back. She slid the sandwich and cake in front of Jordan and sweetly asked, “Can I get you anything else?”
“No thanks. This will do.” She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until savoring the mouthwatering combination of hot salty ham and melted cheese in her mouth. The two cowboys pivoted on their stools, and she sensed their stares. She turned to meet their gazes. They both wore dusty hats and sweat-stained tee shirts. The Hispanic man’s jaw bulged, and brown juice pooled in the corner of his upturned mouth. He flashed a tobacco-colored smile.
“You’re new ‘round here, aren’t you? Never seen you before, and I’d remember someone as pretty as you.”
“I’m just passing through,” she fibbed. The other man lifted a cigarette and a single matchstick from his shirt pocket. He bent and struck the match against the steel toe of his boot, cupped his hand around the flame, and lit the cigarette. After inhaling deeply, he blew some perfect smoke rings in her direction.
“Are you allowed to smoke in here?”Jordan asked, fanning the smoke away with her hand.
“I do what I want,” he drawled.
“Put out that cancer stick, you fool!” the cook yelled. “Are you trying to get me shut down by the Health department?”
The cowboy tossed the cook a sour look and then spun the stool to face Jordan. His glare drilled a hole as he extinguished the cigarette in his coffee. Her gaze roamed over his acne-ridden face. There was an angry red scar above his right eyebrow, and he had the coldest eyes of any human she’d ever seen. Though his scowl made her uncomfortable, she wasn’t about to let him intimidate her on her first day in town.
“We heard you’re taking over the Lucky Seven,” the other man said.
The waitress evidently read the surprise on Jordan’s face. “This is a small town, honey. News travels real fast.”
Jordan’s mouth twitched. “You can say that again.”
The bell over the door jingled and three young boys rushed in, punching each other and laughing, momentarily distracting everyone. They turned their jeans’ pockets inside out and dumped all their change onto the counter. “French fries and cokes, please, Miss Nicki,” one said.
“Coming right up, boys.”
The cowboys continued to ogle Jordan with wolf-like eyes. She looked at her watch, which read three-thirty. She took a couple of bites of cake and gulped down the last of her tea and set the glass on the counter. What had started as a celebration was quickly becoming a situation that made her ill at ease, so she decided to leave the café. As she placed some money on the counter and stood up, the bell jingled again. A good-looking man stepped through the door. Appearing to be about her age, he had dark hair, bright blue eyes, the face of a movie star, and a muscular build. His tee shirt was smudged with dirt and he wore steel-toed work boots. Their eyes locked briefly. He smiled and then acknowledged each person in the café by name as he strutted toward the counter.
“Hi, Cole!” the boys shouted, each giving him a high five.
He sauntered next to Jordan and cheerfully said, “Afternoon, Nicki. I’ll have the usual.”
“No problem, honey.” She batted her thick eyelashes and sashayed to the grill, swinging her broad hips provocatively. The young man with the tattered jeans frowned at Cole.
“Still suffering, I see, Duane.”
“Yeah.”
“Never give up, buddy. One of these days she’ll have a bad day and you just might get lucky.”
“Cole Roberts!” Nicki shouted and spun around. Her eyes flashed a warning. “I ought to slap you silly. Stop telling that boy things like that.” She marched over to stand in front of Duane. “Honey, please go find yourself a nice girl your own age to make goo-goo eyes at. I’m old enough to be your…big sister. No offense, but you’re starting to creep me out.” She rolled her eyes and smiled knowingly at Jordan.
Cole laughed and then glanced at the two men sitting at the counter. He seemed to know them. He gave them a slight nod. They glowered back with threatening eyes. He finally turned to Jordan and extended his hand. “Hi. I’m Cole Roberts. I’d bet my truck you’re Lydia Albright’s niece from Colorado.”
She shook her head in amazement. “Does everybody know everybody else’s business in this town?”
His grin showed a beautiful and even set of gleaming white teeth. “Yep. You’ve caught on real quick.”
She accepted his hand outstretched hand. “Jordan Mackenzie, but I guess you already knew that.”
“I remembered hearing your first name. Didn’t know your last name. I knew your aunt. She told me about you right before she died.”