Cowboy at the Crossroads. Linda Warren

      Nicki jumped out of Cord’s lap, the doll falling to the floor again. “I can do a cow. I can,” she said as she got on all fours and trudged around the den going “Moo, moo, moo.”

      “That’s about the best cow I’ve ever seen. What do you think, Cord?”

      “The very best,” he agreed. “Better than any of the cows I have in my pastures.”

      His eyes met Becca’s, and for an instant something seemed to pass between them, but Becca was sure she’d only imagined it.

      “It’s Daddy’s turn,” Nicki called, interrupting the moment. “Daddy has to do one. What can Daddy be, Becca?”

      Becca eyes gleamed because Cord was clearly resisting the idea. “A horse. I think Daddy should be a horse.”

      “Me, too,” Nicki agreed brightly, and pulled Cord to his feet. He had that I’ll get even with you look in his eyes, but he got down on his hands and knees and crawled around the room with an occasional “Neigh.”

      Nicki crawled onto his back and shouted, “Giddyup, giddyup, horsey.”

      Cord laughed, a sound that came from his heart, and rolled over and held Nicki in the air as her delightful giggles filled the room.

      “What the hell’s going on here?” Blanche demanded from the doorway, then glanced at Becca. “And who the hell are you?”

      “Becca Talbert,” she answered stiffly, taking in Blanche’s tight-fitting red dress and heels.

      “Colton’s girfriend? Is Colton here?”

      Cord swung to his feet in one easy movement, Nicki held tight in his arms. “No, he isn’t.”

      “Then, what’s she doing here?”

      Becca bit her tongue to keep a retort from tumbling out.

      “I invited her,” Cord said woodenly.

      “You’re fooling around with Colton’s girl? I won’t have this, Cord.”

      “Please, Blanche, acting like a mother is out of your league, so give it a rest. I’ve got to get Nicki to bed.” Exhausted from the unaccustomed exertion, Nicki was falling asleep on his shoulder.

      “Cord,” Becca called after him. “It’s getting late, so I’ll be going.”

      He looked back at her. “Could you wait for just a minute? I’d like to talk to you. This won’t take long.”

      “Sure,” she said unenthusiastically. Spending time with Blanche was like spending time in a room full of red wasps. Didn’t matter what you said or did, you were gonna get stung.

      As Cord left, Blanche went over to the built-in bar and poured a glass of scotch. She raised the glass to Becca. “What’re you up to, sugar?”

      “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Becca said, reaching for her jacket.

      “Sure you do,” Blanche muttered. “You’re playing my boys against each other.”

      Becca opened her mouth, but quickly closed it. She wouldn’t dignify that statement with an answer. It wasn’t any of Blanche’s business, anyway. This was between her and Cord.

      “Let me give you some advice, sugar,” Blanche said, when Becca remained silent. “Stick with Colton. He has the money. Cord’s a rancher and always will be. It’s in his blood. That stupid Anette tried to change him and get him away from here, but it didn’t work.” She paused for a second and took a big swallow of scotch. “Aren’t you a doctor or something?”

      “Yes, I’m a doctor.”

      “Then, you’re not stupid and I’m sure you can see the writing on the wall. Cord has that rugged handsomeness that appeals to women, but sugar, in the dark it don’t make no never mind, as my dearly departed husband used to say. So stick with Colton. He has the big bucks.”

      “Is that what you did, Blanche? Stick with the big bucks?”

      A sly smile played across her red lips. “I see you’ve heard my story. But until you’ve walked a mile in my shoes, sugar, you don’t have the right to judge me.”

      “I’m not judging you,” Becca said, but knew she was. She couldn’t imagine why an eighteen-year-old girl would marry a sixty-year-old man—other than the obvious reason. Money.

      “Claybourne was a lot like Cord—very handsome even at sixty. I wouldn’t have married him, otherwise.”

      “I’m sure that’s a matter of opinion.” Becca couldn’t keep the words from slipping out.

      Blanche was angry. Becca could see it in her glittering blue eyes.

      She finished off the scotch and walked over to Becca. “Let me tell you something, sugar. Get your ass back to the city where you belong before the same thing happens to you that happened to Anette.”

      “Is that a threat?” Becca asked in a barely controlled voice.

      “Take it any way you like, sugar, but stay away from my boys.” With that, she swept from the room.

      CHAPTER THREE

      BECCA PICKED UP HER PURSE and slid it over her shoulder. She would really prefer to leave, but she’d promised Cord she’d wait.

      He soon returned. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I hope Blanche wasn’t rude to you.”

      Becca wasn’t sure how to answer that or how to tell a man that his mother was obnoxious and vile, so she said, “I’m sure Blanche is always the same.”

      “Yeah.” He sighed. “She’s hard to take on a good day.”

      Becca retrieved her medical bag thinking the Prescott men had a strange relationship with their mother. “You said you wanted to talk to me.”

      “It’s about Nicki.”

      Becca had expected as much. That was why she’d stayed, even though Blanche had made her temperature rise. “She’s at a critical stage. In the morning it’ll start all over again. She won’t want to leave her room or eat, but you have to make her.”

      “I’m not very good at that.”

      “You have to be, for Nicki’s sake.”

      He gazed directly at her. “I was hoping to persuade you to come here for a couple of days so Nicki can keep progressing. I know that’s asking a lot, but I’m desperate. Della and Edie have tried to coax her out of that room with no results. You did it, though, and you had her talking and laughing. I want my little girl back. Please, Becca.”

      Her stomach turned over at the sound of his saying her name. She hadn’t anticipated this, and found herself grappling for the right answer. She knew there was only one—but, still, she hesitated.

      “Does Nicki go to school?”

      “Anette had enrolled her in a private school in Houston. She started pre-kindergarten, but it didn’t last long. After Anette’s death, she cried all the time, and the teacher suggested maybe it would be best for her to be at home with a private teacher.”

      “Did you do that?”

      “Yes, I hired Mrs. Witherspoon, who’s also a nanny, but she can’t get anything out of Nicki, either. Nicki’s enrolled for kindergarten in the fall, but I’m not sure how that’s going to go.”

      “Nicki’s health is at stake here,” she told him. “Nicki has to start acting like a normal child and the adults in her life have to be strong. They—and not Nicki—have to call the shots.”

      “That’s not easy.”

      “You don’t have a choice.”

      “She responds