Texas Born (48 page)

She looked around. Overall, everything about
the room bespoke a man to be reckoned with.

She was about to sink into a leather couch
when she noticed the silver-framed photograph on the desk. She
reached past the big hand-tooled bound blotter and picked it up.
She studied the photograph closely. It as Jenny, and she had one
leg propped up on a fence rail, one hand on her hip, her cowgirl
hat hanging behind her neck. A cool smile was captured on her
lips.

Elizabeth-Anne studied the picture
thoughtfully. This wasn't the same Jenny she had known. Certainly
the basic features were the same. But Jennifer Sue Sexton was not
the Jennifer Sue Clowney of her memory.
This
Jenny held
herself with poised self-assurance . . . with the aloof confidence
that only great wealth can provide. She had to admit to herself
that even if Jenny's features were rather hard, she had turned into
a striking, coldly chiseled beauty.

She heard squeals of delight drifting in from
outside. Quickly she set the picture back down and drew close to
the window. She stood there looking out, a ghost of a smile playing
across her lips.

A little boy astride a pony was being walked
around a paddock by a ranch hand, the child wearing an adult's
western hat; it came down almost to his nose.

Elizabeth-Anne watched for a while. She was
certain that this was Ross, Tex and Jenny's child, the one Auntie
had tried so hard—and unsuccessfully—to see.

Suddenly the little boy wanted to ride
faster, and the beautiful tableau was shattered. The ranch hand
kept holding the pony back, and the boy yanked his hat off and
began beating him with it. His lips were angry and his eyes flashed
petulant, childlike hatred. 'Tom, you damn idiot!' he screeched.
'Can't you see I wanna go faster?'

The ranch hand leading the pony ignored him,
but Elizabeth-Anne felt a chill settling over her; it was as if a
dark cloud had suddenly obscured the sunshine. What she had just
witnessed was a parody—both of expression and voice—of Jenny, right
down to the protruding lips. Clearly, the child was taking after
his mother. It was such a pity, for he was a lovely, angelic child
to behold. Yet when he spewed forth his hatred, he was transformed
into something spiteful and . . . yes, monstrous.

Quickly Elizabeth-Anne turned away from the
window.

And a sudden vise gripped her ribs, applying
so much tight pressure that she thought her bones would break. She
had not heard the door opening. Nor did she know how long she had
been observed.

Standing in the doorway in a wide-legged
stance, her slender, tapered hands resting on her hips, a
brushed-suede ranch hat atop her head, was Jennifer Sue Sexton.

'Well, well, well,' Jenny said with a
sardonic smile. 'Look what the cat dragged in!'

Time seemed to slow, then stop entirely.

The unexpected sight of Jenny caused
Elizabeth-Anne to experience that peculiar prickly sensation of her
hackles rising, that tingling whisper of a thousand tiny nerve ends
bristling from the back of her neck to the top of her head. She had
experienced that exact same reaction two weeks earlier at the
construction site, when she'd nearly blundered into a
rattlesnake.

For a long time the two women stood with
their eyes locked, neither of them breaking the silence.

It was a silent test of wills.

Finally Jenny ambled forward with deliberate
laziness, her fingers still casually poised on her hips. Her head
was tilted at an oblique sideways angle, and her eyes, that
peculiar color of a robin's egg, made a slow, sweeping head-to-toe
inspection of Elizabeth-Anne.

Elizabeth-Anne stiffened, her arms held
awkwardly at her sides, her fists tightly clenched. She kept her
chin raised as she returned Jenny's stare, her own pale aquamarine
eyes making less of a production but inspecting the other woman
cautiously, and with no less interest.

The photograph on the desk had been
flattering to Jenny; Elizabeth-Anne could see that now. Over the
years, Jenny's blue eyes and pale lips had hardened, and her skin
was tanned and turning leathery from too much time spent out in the
sun. But it would not be true to say that some things never
changed. They did— and for the worse. The cruel, calculating glints
which flashed in Jenny's eyes had become, if anything, only more
pronounced than they had been when she was a child.

Complexion aside, the outdoors seemed to suit
her. She held her back straight, her legs were lithe and shapely
from exercise, and her waist was narrower than Elizabeth-Anne had
remembered, its slimness accentuated by the silver Mexican conch
belt which matched the silver-sheathed tips of her emerald-green
string de. She had on snug whipcord trousers tucked into hand made
six-stitch boots. A plaid pearl-buttoned workshirt. Her
sand-colored cowgirl hat was far from ordinary: the hatband
encircling the crown was made of pavé diamonds interspersed at
intervals with square- cut emeralds the size of a thumbnail.

Faced with all that expensive glamour and
cool self- assurance, Elizabeth-Anne felt peculiarly homely.
Suddenly she was all too conscious of her gray maternity outfit and
her sensible lace-up boots, which needed new soles so badly.

It was Jenny who broke the silence. 'Do you
remember that day we blindfolded you and tore your gloves off?' She
regarded Elizabeth-Anne closely.

Elizabeth-Anne looked at her steadily, her
eyes unwavering. 'It was a cruel, childish prank,' she said with
stiff dignity.

'Was it?' Jenny laughed again, and her voice
grew stridently penetrating. 'We all thought it was very funny.'
She looked suddenly pleased. 'It was my idea, you know.'

'That thought crossed my mind at the
time.'

Jenny's eyes narrowed. 'You didn't accuse me
of it when it happened.'

'Why should I?' Elizabeth-Anne held up her
hands. 'It wouldn't have done me any good. You would only have
thought up ten more ways to get back at me. Early on, I discovered
that it was far easier to keep quiet and stay out of your way than
try to fight you on your own terms.'

'Is that what you've been doing by avoiding
me all these years?'

Elizabeth-Anne did not reply. All she could
think of was in what a ludicrous direction this conversation was
headed, and how childish it all sounded. How long could grudges be
held? Other people embraced after such long absences. But not
Jenny. Oh, no. She honed in swiftly, her every word a sharp razor
making another deep slash, opening one wound on top of another,
slashing with frenzied indiscrimination until she drew as much
blood as her victim had in him.

There was a subdued knock at the door and
then it opened and Rosita scurried in, carrying a single tall icy
glass of lemonade on a silver salver. The maid flushed with
embarrassment and studiously avoided looking at Elizabeth-Anne.

Jenny reached for the lemonade and sipped
slowly, holding her little finger away from the glass and glancing
at Elizabeth-Anne over the rim, her eyes registering juvenile
satisfaction.

Elizabeth-Anne allowed no expression to show
on her face. The drive to the ranch had been a long and hot one.
Her throat felt parched—especially now that Jenny was pointedly
drinking cool lemonade in front of her.

I won't let myself get angry
,
Elizabeth-Anne told herself firmly
. So what if my horse is
watered and I thirst? The horse is a far more important priority;
it has to pull the buggy and drive me back to Quebeck. There will
be time enough to quench my thirst later
.

She took a deep breath. 'The reason I came
here,' she began succinctly, 'is to—'

'Always to the point, aren't you?' Jenny
interrupted irritably. 'Just like Auntie. Never wasting time or
mincing words.'

'I find it cuts down on problems. Besides,
time is precious. I'm a busy woman.'

Jenny leered at her. 'I don't know how
busy
you are, but you certainly are a
quick
and
slippery
woman. Let me see . . .' She tapped her lips
thoughtfully and paced the room slowly. 'Yes, you've been more than
busy. Not one to waste time by any means. In the time you can say
Jack Robinson, you ended up with Auntie's rooming house and the
café. You stole Zaccheus away from me. But then, I should thank you
for that, I suppose, seeing as how he's a murderer.'

'He is not a murderer! Roy's death was an
accident!'

'Then why didn't he stay and face the music?'
Jenny smirked.

'You know very well that Zaccheus would have
been sentenced to death by a Sexton-controlled court if he had
stayed here. Because of you, I'll never see him again. His children
will grow up without a father.'

'How
too
sad for that litter of little
bitches you've dropped!' Jenny smiled triumphantly and then
pointedly looked Elizabeth-Anne up and down. 'Now I see you're
going to drop another little bitch.'

'If you insist on referring to my children as
a
litter
,' Elizabeth-Anne said haughtily, 'I might point out
that you've
dropped
, as you put it, one of your own.'

'Oh, yes!' Jenny said. 'I have a child, a
beautiful child. A boy of Tex Sexton's . . . a child with a
brilliant future. He will never want for anything.'

'Mine do not want for anything either,'
Elizabeth-Anne countered with dignity. 'Perhaps we should both
count ourselves lucky.'

'Ah.' Jenny smiled. 'But you're not
lucky.'

'What do you mean?'

'Oh, I don't know.' Jenny shrugged vaguely
and took another sip of lemonade. 'What do you think I mean?'

'To be truthful, I haven't the foggiest.'

'You should, Mrs. Construction Engineer,
owner of Quebeck's first tourist court. You think you're the only
woman around here who does anything, don't you?'

'Nooo . . . I don't. In fact, I should
welcome you to the small, exclusive ranks of America's
businesswomen. Coyote is quite an impressive business, if I say so
myself. Of course, even I would have been able to afford to buy it
for a dollar. Even the poorest Mexican urchin could have come up
with
that
amount of money. So I can't really say I'm
impressed with the way you acquired it.'

Jenny leaned close to her. 'How did you find
out about it, anyway?'

Elizabeth-Anne smiled. 'Let's just say the
walls have ears. Anyway, while we're on the subject of Coyote,
that's exactly what I came here to discuss. I suppose it's you I
should see about my invoice problems.'

'What's there to talk about?'

'What's there to talk about!'

'What are you? A parrot?'

'Jenny, those bills are all wrong, and I
think you know it.'

Jenny tossed her head. 'I don't concern
myself with the day-to-day operations of Coyote. We have hired
people to do that. Speak to the manager.'

'I did.'

'Then the problem should be settled.'

'It isn't, Jenny.'

'First of all, let's get one thing straight.
I'm not Jenny to you, despite the unfortunate fact that we grew up
together in the same house. I'm Mrs. Tex Sexton.'

Elizabeth-Anne tightened her lips. 'So be it,
Mrs
. Tex Sexton.'

'That's better.' Jenny's eyes flashed with
satisfaction. 'Now,
Mrs
. Zaccheus Hale,' she said
magnanimously. 'What favors have you come to petition me
about?'

'I'm not petitioning you. I've come to
discuss a business problem. These, in particular.' Elizabeth-Anne
produced the sheaf of invoices from her purse and held them out,
but Jenny refused to take them. 'You're not delivering according to
orders, and you're constantly raising prices on me.'

'If you don't like it, take your business
elsewhere.'

Elizabeth-Anne laughed bitterly. 'There isn't
an elsewhere, and you know it. You Sextons have bankrupted all the
competition.'

'Business is business. It's not my fault if
you go overboard and buy what you can't afford. Perhaps you should
take a simple course in economics.'

Elizabeth-Anne was silent.

'If I were you,
Mrs
. Hale, do you know
what I would do?'

'Tell me, please,' Elizabeth-Anne said with a
sigh. 'I have the feeling you will anyway, whether I wish to know
or not.'

'If I were you,' Jenny said slowly, 'I would
be content with what I have. I wouldn't become so . . . ah . . .
visible. I would stop what I was doing, cut my losses, and be
content with the way things are.'

Elizabeth-Anne frowned. 'I don't think I
understand.'

Jenny's eyes flashed. 'It's simple, really.
What I'm trying to tell you is . . . don't get too big for your
breeches. Don't get
too
ambitious. This isn't the time or
the place.'

Elizabeth-Anne bristled suddenly. 'Are you
threatening me?' she asked coldly. She stared at Jenny, her gaze
level.

'Good heavens, no!' Jenny laughed artlessly.
'I just want to make sure you don't make a mistake, is all. It's so
easy to get into a financial jam when you set your sights too high.
Why, even I have to be careful!'

'You?' Elizabeth-Anne laughed shortly.

'Oh, yes, indeed,' Jenny said smugly. 'You
see, I've just begun a new business. I registered it at the
courthouse only yesterday afternoon. Judge Hawk was
so
helpful.
Jennifer S. Mineral Excavations, Inc
., is what I'm
calling it. Tex thinks I'm biting off more than I can chew, but I
don't think so. My feeling is that you can never be too
diversified.' She smiled. 'But enough about me. It's you I'm
worried about. You see, the trick is that you've got to be able to
afford
what you're doing.'

Elizabeth-Anne wondered why Jenny was telling
her all this. 'All I can do is wish you good luck,' she said
stiffly, 'though I hardly think you'll need it. I'm sure you'll
succeed.'