Your Ranch...Or Mine?. Kathie DeNosky

prefer something a bit more urban than a ranch house in the middle of nowhere,” she said, hoping he would give her an indication of why he had taken up residence in her grandfather’s home.

      “Nice try, Taylor.” To her surprise, a slow smile curved his mouth. “Now, why don’t we start over and you tell me what you’ve been dancing around since we came in here?”

      Deciding that he wasn’t going to divulge anything without her telling him who she was, she took a deep breath. “I’m Ben Cunningham’s granddaughter and I want to know how you got him to bet half of the ranch in that poker game, why you’re staying here and what it will take to get you to sell your interest and get off the Lucky Ace for good.”

      “Since you’re here grilling me, I take it that Ben hasn’t supplied you with the answers to your questions?” he asked, raising one black eyebrow.

      “No.”

      “I’m sure he has his reasons for not telling you, and I’m not going to betray his trust.” He shook his head. “But I can tell you that he suggested I move into the house to watch over the place while he was in California visiting with you and your parents.”

      “What about getting him to bet half of the ranch?” she demanded, not at all satisfied with his unwillingness to tell her what she wanted to know. “How did you manage that?”

      “I had nothing to do with him putting up any part of the ranch. It was his idea and his alone,” Donaldson answered.

      “I have a hard time believing that, Donaldson.” Unable to sit still any longer, Taylor rose to her feet to pace back and forth in front of the desk. “He bought this land sixty years ago with his first poker winnings. It was his pride and joy and when he and my grandmother married, they built this house and raised my mother here. In all that time, he never once considered risking any part of it. Why would he suddenly change his mind last fall?”

      “You’ll have to ask Ben.” He smiled. “I haven’t heard from him in a couple of months. How is your grandfather? Is he enjoying his time in sunny California? Has he mentioned when he’ll be coming back to the ranch?”

      Taylor stopped pacing and turned to face him. Her eyes burning with tears she refused to allow her nemesis to see, she took a deep, steadying breath. “Grandpa passed away about three weeks ago.”

      Donaldson’s smile immediately disappeared. “I’m really sorry to hear that. Ben was a good man and the best poker player I’ve ever had the privilege to know. You have my deepest sympathy.”

      “T-thank you,” she said, sinking into the armchair. Talking about her grandfather, knowing he was gone and that she had been powerless to stop the inevitable, was overwhelming.

      “Here, drink this,” he said, handing her a glass tumbler as he lowered himself into the armchair beside her.

      Lost in her misery, she hadn’t been aware that he’d risen from the chair behind the desk. “What is it?” she asked, looking at the clear liquid in the glass.

      He gave her a sympathetic smile. “It’s just water.”

      “Oh.”

      “How did Ben die?” he asked softly.

      “He had a massive heart attack,” she said woodenly. “He’d apparently known about his heart condition for quite some time, but didn’t tell anyone. When I learned about it, I insisted that he see the top cardiologist in Los Angeles. But it was too late. He went into cardiac arrest the day before he was scheduled for open-heart surgery.”

      They sat in silence for some time before he commented. “I wonder why the poker federation failed to announce Ben’s passing last week at the tournament in Vegas?”

      Finishing the glass of water, she placed the tumbler on the desk. “It wasn’t announced because they don’t know about it. He asked that his death be kept quiet until after his ashes were scattered here at the ranch.”

      “Is that why you’re here now?” he asked. “To tell me you’re going to scatter Ben’s ashes?”

      “No.” She determinedly met his questioning gaze. “I took care of his request yesterday evening at sunset.”

      He looked doubtful. “If you were here yesterday, why didn’t I see you?”

      “Because I know this place like the back of my hand,” she answered. “There’s a road two miles west of here that leads to the creek on the southern part of the ranch. Grandpa told me that if something happened to him he wanted his ashes released at sunset down by the creek where he asked my grandmother to marry him.” She stared at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. “I’m sure you can understand that it was a private moment for me.”

      “Of course,” he said quietly.

      Suddenly feeling drained of energy, she hid a yawn behind her hand. “Now that you know about my grandfather’s death, there’s no reason not to answer my questions.” She gave him a pointed look. “Besides, I inherited the other half of the Lucky Ace Ranch and as the co-owner, that gives me the right to know everything. And the first thing I intend to find out is how you managed to swindle my grandfather.”

      Two

      Lane stared at Taylor for several long seconds as he worked to control his anger. He was still trying to come to terms with losing a good friend, as well as his partner in the ranch. The last thing he wanted was to be defending his integrity. But it appeared that was exactly what he was going to have to do.

      “Before this goes any farther, let me set you straight, Ms. Scott,” he said, wondering how he could still find her attractive when he was angry enough to bite nails in two. “I have never been a cardsharp, nor will I ever be. I take my poker games very seriously and I can guarantee you that I don’t have to cheat to win. I pit my skill against other players’ and I’m good enough to be quite successful at it—just as your grandfather was.”

      “But he had more years of experience than you are old,” she insisted. “How could you possibly beat him unless the game was rigged?”

      “I know this is probably hard for you to believe, but your grandfather and I had a lot in common,” he stated. “We had a mutual respect for the game and for each other as worthy opponents. I’m sorry if you can’t accept that I had the skill to beat your grandfather, but I wouldn’t cheat at cards any more than Ben would have.”

      Suddenly needing a drink, he rose to his feet, walked over to the credenza and poured himself a shot of bourbon. Downing the amber liquid in one gulp, he let the warmth spread throughout his chest before he turned to face her.

      “The day I won an interest in this ranch, I had the better hand.” He shook his head. “We could have played another day and he might have come out the winner. That’s the game and a chance you take any time you sit down at a poker table.”

      “I realize that there’s always a risk of losing,” she said, sounding a little less confident. She hid another yawn behind her delicate hand then continued, “But my grandfather was arguably the best poker player in modern history. He could tell at a glance what his odds of winning were and how much he could safely wager. He would have never bet half of the ranch if he hadn’t been certain he would win.”

      “And because of his miscalculation that makes me guilty of cheating?” Lane demanded.

      She yawned yet again. “He wouldn’t have risked—”

      “I think we’ve adequately covered that already,” he interrupted. He took a deep breath in an effort to cool the fury burning in his gut. She wasn’t listening and he was tired of beating his head against a brick wall trying to convince her of his innocence. “Look, it’s past midnight and we’re getting nowhere. Let’s put this discussion on hold until tomorrow morning.”

      She stared at him for a moment before she finally nodded and rose to her feet. “That would probably be best.”