When Love Comes (23 page)

“He could still burn me out when he gets well.”

“He won’t be allowed to leave the house for weeks to come,” Amanda told him.

When Corby was slow to respond, Mrs. Liscomb prodded him again. Broc was worried that one of these times she was going jab him too hard, and the gun would go off. If she did shoot him, he hoped a judge could be persuaded to believe it was an accident caused by extreme emotional stress.

“You think my daughter is a liar like you?” Mrs. Liscomb poked Corby so hard, Broc steeled himself to hear a gunshot. “We don’t make agreements we don’t intend to honor. Broc can write out the contracts for you.”

Broc was finding that being transformed in a matter of minutes from a distrusted and disliked interloper to a magician who was expected to pull any trick out of his hat was a
bit disconcerting. He didn’t know what Mrs. Liscomb would decide he could do next, but apparently she saw no limit to his talents. A pity she wasn’t right.

“If you don’t hire us, we’ll work for your competition,” Amanda said. “We have to work for someone, because we need the money.”

“But what’s the point? You don’t have a bull,” Corby reminded her, “so the ranch will fail anyway.”

“They have his calves,” Broc pointed out. “In a couple of years, they’ll have dozens of young bulls with his blood.”

“But we need jobs until then,” Amanda said.

Mrs. Liscomb poked Corby. “Tell her you agree.”

“Okay.” Corby’s ribs must have been getting really sore because he gave in more readily than Broc expected. “But I’ve got to read the contracts before I sign them.”

Mrs. Liscomb poked him again. “And after you read them, you’ll sign them, right?”

“I’ll sign them,” Corby said, “but I’d much rather marry Amanda. I’d take care of everything, and she wouldn’t have to work.”

Broc wasn’t sure Corby had enough money to do all he said, but he was relieved neither Amanda nor her mother showed the slightest interest in his offer. It didn’t take long to put all the pertinent information down on paper. Mrs. Liscomb continued to hold Corby at gunpoint. She didn’t lower her weapon until Corby had read and signed the contract.

“I’ll tell Gary,” Amanda said. “I’m sure he’ll want to start tonight.”

“I think you and Broc should wait until tomorrow,” Mrs. Liscomb said. “You’ll need time to decide what you want to perform.” She picked up her purse and put the gun inside.

“I’m relieved to see you put that gun away,” Broc said. “I was afraid you might poke Corby a bit too hard, and it would go off.”

“It’s not loaded,” Mrs. Liscomb said. “I couldn’t figure out how to put the bullets in it.”

Amanda was convinced there was something in Corby’s office that would confirm he had agreed to pay for the bull in exchange for her father’s share of the saloon. The only problem was figuring out where he’d hidden it. She hadn’t wanted to work in the saloon, but in addition to needing the money, it had provided her with several opportunities to search Corby’s office when he was busy talking with his customers. So far she hadn’t found anything of interest except money. Each time she entered his office, she had to tell herself she couldn’t take the money just because he owed it to Mrs. Sibley. Despite the injustice of what he was doing, that would be stealing, and she would not lower herself to Corby’s level.

In the meantime, she had to be especially careful. When Broc was in the saloon, Corby was so jealous of him he wouldn’t let Broc out of his sight, but Broc had finally gone back to Crystal Springs to start serving his jail time. That made it even more difficult for Amanda not to take the money. If Corby had agreed to pay the debt, Broc wouldn’t have had to go to jail, so it was Corby’s fault Amanda was separated from Broc. It was Corby’s fault that the ranch was in trouble, that the bull was dead, that her mother still faced the possibility of having to sell some of her precious furniture.

It would serve him right if Amanda stole his money and Carruthers burned him out.

But she wasn’t a thief, and Carruthers was heavily sedated.

Where should she search next? She had begun by going through Corby’s safe. It had taken a bit of persuasion, but she’d convinced Gary to leave it unlocked when he went to get cash for the bar. She’d found money, deeds to the saloon and diner, and some other important papers, but she found nothing
about the debt to Mrs. Sibley. She wished she could have read all the documents thoroughly—she was sure she’d have found something to hold over Corby—but she didn’t have time.

Next she’d gone through the large cabinet that stood at the back of the room. Her father had kept his records there as well as odds and ends from the saloon or the diner, but she had found nothing in the cabinet that had any connection with the sale of the saloon or the bull. She’d even checked behind the two pictures to see if Corby had installed a secret safe.

The only piece of real furniture in the room was the desk. Her father had bought it from a family moving farther west who needed the money and didn’t need the extra weight. She’d rarely seen Corby do more than relax in the chair, so she’d saved it for last. Except for two drawers on either side, it didn’t seem to have any places to hide papers.

She sat down at the desk, pulled out the first drawer, and scanned its contents. No papers there, just odds and ends like ink, pens, blotters, extra paper. The second drawer was empty. A third held Corby’s bank records. Maybe they would give her the information she needed. If she could find something that showed he’d paid any money to Mrs. Sibley, it could be used as evidence that he owed her still more.

She quickly thumbed through the receipts, but she couldn’t find anything that had Mrs. Sibley’s name on it or that could be proved to have been payment for the bull. There must be something here. There
had
to be. She’d just missed it. She started through everything again, concentrating so hard, she didn’t hear the door open.

“What are you doing?” Corby demanded.

Amanda cursed under her breath. How could she have been so stupid as to have let herself be caught? She needed to think of something that was incriminating but wouldn’t cause Corby to guess what she was really after.

“I was looking to see if you had as much money as you claimed. If I should decide to accept your offer of marriage, I need to know you can support me.”

That was a weak excuse and so far from the truth, it cost her dearly to utter the lie. Corby’s gaze remained angry and suspicious, but she could see an element of doubt—or maybe she should call it hope—make its way into his eyes. He wasn’t a stupid man, but he had an enormous ego that required constant massaging. Since he was convinced a man’s measure was determined by money and prestige, maybe he would believe she thought the same thing.

“Your mother said she wouldn’t let you marry me.”

“She was upset. She doesn’t want to live in poverty any more than I do.”

“You can’t be living in poverty with what I’m being forced to pay you and your brother.”

“It will take nearly everything we earn to pay for the bull.”

His expression turned angry, even pugnacious, a look that wasn’t attractive on his thin face. “Your mother tried to make me pay for that bull. She even held a gun to my head.”

Every time she thought of Broc’s uncontrollable laughter
when her mother confessed she hadn’t known how to put bullets in the gun, she started laughing. If she even cracked a smile now, Corby wouldn’t believe a word she said. She thought of being married to Corby, of having to face him on their wedding night, and she lost any desire to smile. “As I told you, Mother was upset.”

Corby wasn’t through yet. “Do you think I’m a liar and a thief?”

Maybe it was silly to balk at lying at this point, but she’d prefer to find a way around it. “I was upset. You’d just fired Gary and me. Carruthers had just killed our bull. I’ve had time to reconsider my opinion since then.” She
had
reconsidered her opinion of him. It had gotten worse.

“You could have told me what you wanted to know. I’d have given you all the proof you could want.”

“I’m enough like my father to like to prove things for myself.”

“Are you satisfied now?”

She breathed a sigh of relief. It was amazing how a person could be so focused on something he wanted that he could blind himself to everything else. “I don’t know. I didn’t find any record of outstanding debts, but I didn’t find anything showing you have a bank balance, either. I know the saloon and diner are worth more than enough to pay our debt, but you wouldn’t have a way to support me if you sold them.”

She knew she’d escaped discovery when Corby’s frown turned to his trademark grin, the one that grew out of his belief he was one of the three or four most important and influential men in Cactus Bend. Corby crossed over to the safe, unlocked it, reached inside, and pulled out a roll of bills.

“Here’s all the money you need to pay off the rest of your debt.”

She knew that. Even now she itched to snatch the money from him.

“The saloon and diner generate more than enough income to support a wife and family.”

She knew that, too. Half the income from the two businesses had been sufficient to support her family.

Amanda put the papers back in the drawer, closed it, and got to her feet. She had to get out of this room before Corby could press her for a commitment. “That’s all I needed to know. Now I’d better get back to work. I don’t want you to think I’m not earning my keep.”

“You won’t have to work after you marry me,” Corby said.

“But I’m not married now, so I do need to work.” She rounded the desk and headed for the door. “You’d better come watch. I want you to realize just how much better the entertainment is when Broc is here.”

That comment would needle him so much he would forget about anything romantic. Having said that, Amanda wondered if Corby was capable of being romantic. He’d never said anything romantic. He’d never done anything romantic. He’d never even thought of their marriage in terms of love. He insisted that he loved her, but Amanda doubted he was capable of love or understanding how important love was to her. If he hadn’t lied and cheated, she would have hoped he’d someday find a woman who could teach him how to love. Now, however, she hoped no woman would be forced to live with a man like him. She never would, not even if her family had to sell every piece of furniture in the house, every calf, every cow. Some things were worse than poverty.

Amanda wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand it. She spent her days working on the Lazy T and her evenings working in the saloon, but she couldn’t stop herself from thinking of Broc, wondering what was happening to him, wondering when he would come back,
if
he would come
back. She had asked him to write but wasn’t surprised when no letters arrived. What could he have to tell her? Not much of interest was likely to happen when you were locked up in a jail.

She had coerced Corby into giving her an advance on her salary so Broc could take Mrs. Sibley a small payment. She’d hoped that would encourage the judge to reconsider his decision to send Broc to jail, but apparently it hadn’t worked. She’d even talked Gary into giving their mother half his salary in exchange for not being required to work on the ranch. Her mother had been surprised, but Amanda knew Gary hated the ranch with a depth of feeling her mother couldn’t understand. What other reason could he have had for letting the bull out so many times when he knew how important it was to the survival of the ranch?

Today was one of those rare days in Texas when a steady rain had turned the prairie into ankle-deep mud, making it virtually impossible to work outside. Leo and Andy were holed up in the bunkhouse cleaning saddles and bridles, and repairing any equipment in need of fixing. Eddie was helping her mother in the kitchen. Amanda had swept every room in the house. Now she was dusting and polishing her mother’s precious furniture. Remembering her father’s admonition to “look to the secretaire” if they ever found themselves in a difficult position, she scowled at the intricate piece of furniture that stood tall against a background of flowered wallpaper like an aristocrat trapped among the hoi polloi, its inlaid woods, beveled glass, and tiny brass knobs making it the focal point of the room. Her mother had been too grief-stricken after her husband’s death to be of any help in settling his affairs, so Amanda had been the one to go through every drawer and cubbyhole. She’d thumbed through every book, read every piece of paper, without finding anything useful.
Now she glared at it, daring it to live up to her father’s promise.

“Haven’t you finished dusting yet?” her mother asked.

It was impossible to
finish
dusting in Texas. By the time she finished with the last piece of furniture, a new layer of dust had begun to settle on the first. “Yes, I’m done.”

“Then what are you doing standing there?”

“I keep wondering what Papa meant when he said I was to look to the secretaire if we were in trouble. I read every piece of paper in it without finding anything helpful.”

“Did you look in the secret drawer?”

It was hard to describe the effect that question had on her. She felt as if the ground had fallen away from under her at the same time she felt an upsurge of hope. “What secret drawer? Papa never said anything about a secret drawer.”

“Of course not. It wouldn’t have been secret if he had.”

Amanda bit back the response that sprang to her mind. “You never said anything about a secret drawer.”

“I was too upset when your father died to think of it.”

“He’s been dead over a year. Why didn’t you say something about it before now?”

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think it was important.”

Swallowing another response she decided not to utter, Amanda shrugged in defeat. “I don’t see how knowing there’s a secret drawer in that secretaire is going to help us when we don’t know where it is or how to open it.”

“You forget this used to be my father’s desk,” her mother said. “He showed me where it is and how to open it.”

Amanda’s tingle of excitement was tempered by her doubt the drawer could contain anything that would solve their problems. “Can you open it now?”

Her mother shrugged and walked over to the secretaire. She opened it, reached under a decorative piece of wood
that fronted the base of the row of cubbies, and pushed something that caused the piece of wood to slide less than an inch forward, revealing itself as the front of a long, shallow drawer. Her mother gripped the drawer with her fingertips and pulled it open.

Some papers occupied the right corner of the drawer, but Amanda’s eyes were drawn to the gold coins scattered across the majority of the drawer. She didn’t know how much money was there, but she was certain it was more than enough to pay off the debt on the bull.

It took a moment for her to catch her breath, to calm her racing heart, before she could speak. “Did you know about this?” she asked her mother.

“Your father never discussed business with me.”

“Why didn’t he tell you about the contract for the bull? Why didn’t he tell you about the money? You said he told you everything.”

Her mother looked abashed. “He might have, but I didn’t want to know. My mother taught me it was unsuitable for a lady to interest herself in anything beyond the household accounts.”

Her grandmother could never have anticipated a war that would change the way her daughter would have to live. “Well, you need to be interested in everything now. Let’s see how much money we have here.”

Why had her father not told anyone about the money? They could have sold the secretaire and never realized what was hidden inside.

“What are you doing?” Eddie’s eyes grew wide when he saw the gold coins. “Where did you get all that money?”

“It’s Papa’s money,” Amanda said. “I mean it’s our money. Papa hid it in the secretaire for us.”

“Did you know?” Eddie asked.

“No.”

Eddie studied the coins a moment. “Do we have enough to buy me a horse?”

Her mother paused. “You have three horses.”

“They’re no good. I want a horse like Broc’s.”

“Have you considered selling your three horses for one really good one?”

Clearly Eddie hadn’t, but he was apparently giving it serious consideration now.

By the time Amanda and her mother finished, they had counted more than two thousand dollars. Her head was spinning from the double shock of finding so much money and realizing the future of the ranch was assured. “I think we ought to put it in the bank,” she said to her mother.

“Your father never trusted banks,” her mother reminded her.

“And because of that, we nearly lost the ranch. What if you’d sold the secretaire?”

“I never would.”

“But what if you had? What if lightning had struck the house and it had burned?”

“Does gold burn up?” Eddie asked.

“No, but it can be lost or stolen. I think we ought to put the money in the bank. It’s what Broc would do,” she said when her mother looked doubtful.

Her mother wasn’t convinced, but she shrugged. “You know more about all this than I do. Do what you think is best.”

Amanda gathered up the coins and put them back in the drawer. “I’ll ride into town as soon as the weather clears. Right now I want to see what’s in these papers.”

Amanda moved to a window to take advantage of the meager light coming through. The first sheets of paper were deeds to the ranch, the saloon and diner, and several bills of
sale, including one for the bull. There was some tax information, business records, and several other sheets that she put aside to be read more closely when she had the time. The last document stopped her in her tracks. Certain she must have misunderstood something, she went back to the beginning and read the entire document over again. Nothing changed. She had understood every word. She was so angry she had trouble breathing.

“What’s wrong?” her mother asked. “You look white as a sheet.”

“The son of a bitch! The goddamned son of a bitch!”

“Amanda Liscomb!” her mother exclaimed. “I will not have that kind of language in my house. I can’t believe those horrible words actually came from your mouth.”

“If you had read what I’ve just read, you’d be cussing, too.”

“Nothing could make me lose such control of myself,” her mother stated with a kind of stiff-necked pride that inflamed rather than cooled Amanda’s anger. She thrust the document into her mother’s hands.

Her mother read it through with such painful slowness, it was all Amanda could do to keep from taking the document and reading it aloud. Her restraint finally had its reward. When her mother reached the end of the document, she raised stunned eyes to her daughter.

“Show me how to put bullets in that gun. I intend to shoot that man.”

Amanda burst into Corby’s office, pointed an accusing finger at him that still shook from anger, then turned to the sheriff, who had followed in her wake. “Arrest that man for a liar and a thief. He has refused to pay his debts and tried to steal my family’s share of the saloon and diner.”

Corby couldn’t have looked more surprised if the ghost of his dead partner had climbed out of his grave to accuse him.
“You’ve been very worried and probably working too hard,” Corby said, “but that’s no reason to start acting like your mother. I don’t know what has gotten you so upset, but I’m sure if we—”

“
This
has gotten me upset.” It was all Amanda could do to keep from shouting as she waved the document in front of Corby. “You told us Papa had sold you the diner and the saloon. That was a lie. And you never said anything about agreeing to make Papa’s payments for the bull—even when you knew that judge in Crystal Springs was trying to collect the debt from us.”

Corby lost color but didn’t act like a man caught in a web of guilty lies. In a way he actually seemed relieved. For a moment, Amanda had a horrible feeling something still more shocking was about to be revealed.

“I wasn’t trying to steal the diner or saloon from you,” Corby said. “You might say I was saving them for your family.”