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“I know that, Mom.” She tried not to feel as if the fate of the Four Winds was resting on her shoulders. Or would be, if she would only do what the others wanted and take over the running of the ranch, as tradition dictated. “It’s why we hired Travis to help us.”
Liz looked at him, hoping he would get the hint and divert their attention.
“Maybe you should make a list of what needs to be done, and in what order,” he suggested with a faint smile.
While the women looked on approvingly, he placed a generous serving of tender, juicy beef brisket on his plate.
Reba passed the heaping bowl of skillet corn, livened up with diced onion and green and red pepper. “Liz can help you with that.”
Liz knew a bit of ham-handed matchmaking when she saw it. She suppressed a beleaguered sigh while dishing potato salad and coleslaw onto her plate. “I think you should do it, Mom. Since you’re the one running the physical side of the ranch. I’m only here when I can be, to help out.”
Which wasn’t all that often, given the demands of her law practice.
Reba disagreed. “I’ve been wanting to pass the responsibility on to you for several years now. And especially now, with my sciatica acting up again … and Travis here to do the heavy labor. It seems like it is finally time for you to take over the reins of the Four Winds.”
It might seem that way to the other Cartwright women, perhaps, Liz thought with mounting resentment. Not to her.
Travis arched a brow.
“You know what to do, Liz,” Reba continued persuasively. “All I’m asking is that you find time to do it.”
Sidestepping the familiar argument, Liz spread a gingham napkin across her lap. She understood her duty to her family. She just couldn’t do everything they wanted her to, when they wanted it done. “First things first.” Trying not to notice how easily he had made himself at home in such an estrogen-charged environment, she locked eyes with Travis. “I have to clear my belongings out of the homestead so Travis can move in.”
“YOU DON’T HAVE ANY intention of ever taking over management of this ranch, do you?” Travis murmured, after the meal had been concluded and the two of them had been shooed out of the ranch house and over to the homestead to get the moving done.
Just go right to the heart of things, why don’t you? Liz thought.
Hating the way he saw inside her head—zeroing in on what no one else knew, even after all this time—she opened up the bureau drawers and moved her clothing into two open suitcases.
With her voice as crisp and businesslike as her actions, she continued, “It isn’t necessary right now, since Great-grandma Tillie is still doing the books and the land management, Grandma Faye Elizabeth is doing the majority of the cooking and housekeeping, and my mom is overseeing most of the actual labor.”
His broad shoulders flexing against the fabric of his twill work shirt, Travis boxed up Liz’s books. He paused to give her a speculative once-over, then moved his gaze to her eyes. “But it will be necessary for you to manage the place eventually….”
The electricity in the room rose as surely as the intimacy.
Liz swallowed hard. It was crazy to be so aware of him.
Knowing he was waiting for her reaction, she admitted grimly, “Or end sixty-three years of Cartwright family tradition and deeply disappoint my mother, grandmother and great-grandmother.”
Liz accidentally dropped a handful of undies on the floor and bent to pick them up. “Who, by the way, also want me to figure out how to have a baby and begin another generation of Cartwrights, without simultaneously having my heart broken—as all of them did, for one reason or another.”
His gaze fell to the silk and lace crumpled in her palm. Travis cleared his throat. “Refresh my memory about what went down …”
“My great-grandmother was widowed when her rodeo clown husband got trampled by a bull. Faye Elizabeth lost her husband to an undiagnosed heart ailment, shortly after they married. And my mother lost my dad in a rockslide when I was just a baby.” Liz sighed. “Legend has it that men who love Cartwright women never last long.”
Travis scoffed. “Sounds like an old wives’ tale to me.”
Liz tucked her lingerie into a suitcase. “Or just plain bad luck. Besides, the Cartwright women, who have always bucked tradition and kept their surname, prefer running the ranch themselves, anyway.”
He smiled. “I can see that.” He walked over to help her zip up the bulging suitcases and stand them on their wheels. “Is that why you started your law practice in Laramie?”
Liz stripped the mattress and dumped the sheets into a large wicker laundry basket. She reached for a clean set and began making up the bed. Travis leaned in to help.
“I did that because I didn’t like working for someone else. I worked at a midsize firm in Dallas the first three years out of law school and discovered it wasn’t for me. Too many politics. Too much grunt work. Not enough autonomy.” Trying not to think how intimate a task this could be, Liz tossed him a pillow and a case.
“What about you?” She remembered the way he had been in high school, all big plans and bigger ambitions. Grinning, she speculated, “I bet you loved life in a large firm.”
Then realized, too late, she probably shouldn’t have said that.
After dealing with the pillow, Travis hefted the box of books in his arms. “I enjoyed the competition, the high stakes of all the clients and the cases, until I got pushed out. Then, I have to admit, it wasn’t so fun.”
She moved ahead of him, holding the door open. “Would you go back to it?”
He set the box in the back of her SUV. “It might be different at another big firm.”
She went back to get a suitcase. Travis got the other. “So what you said earlier, about wanting your own ranch …?”
Their shoulders brushed accidentally as they reached the vehicle, causing Liz to momentarily lose her footing.
Travis put out a hand to steady her. “That’s still true. I miss ranch life as much as I love the law.”
She tried not to notice how ruggedly handsome he looked in the warm light of the spring evening.
They had both grown up so much in the time they had been apart.
She couldn’t help but admire the man he had become. “So—unlike me—you want to do both,” she ascertained quietly.
Travis went to help her carry the clothes hanging in the closet. “A lot of Texas attorneys do. Especially in the rural areas.”
Liz picked up several pairs of custom cowgirl boots and the more sedate heels she wore to court. “Don’t let my family hear you say that. They would use it to put additional pressure on me.”
He reached over and set a flat-brimmed felt hat on her head. “They’d be right,” he teased, with a confidence that let her know he had been thinking about this. “There are advantages to diversifying.”
With Travis by her side, Liz made another trip to the SUV. “So where would you do this?” she asked, nearly dropping everything because she was carrying so much. “Here? In Laramie County?”
Travis draped his load of clothing over the stuff already in the back. With casual gallantry, he helped her with the mass of shoes and boots. The kind of mischief she recalled from their high school days glimmered in his eyes.
“Worried about a little competition?”
More like my heart. Although where that thought had come from … Since there was no way she was falling for him again.
Liz stepped back, aware that one more trip would just about clear out the homestead of her things. “Of course not.” She tossed her hair back with the confident attitude that had gotten her through many a difficult situation. “You’re an oil and gas attorney, interested in big stakes.”
Wishing she was in one of her business suits instead of laid-back ranch attire of a calico shirt and jeans, she angled a thumb at her chest. “I run a general law practice that focuses on helping people with ordinary, everyday problems. When it comes right down to it, our prospective clients have as little in common as you and I do.”
A brooding look crossed his face. “You’re right about that,” he said in a low, gravelly voice. He glanced back at the cabin. “So, are we about done here?”
Liz nodded, hating his sudden aloofness, aware she had touched a nerve without meaning to.
Tensing with regret, she handed him the keys to the homestead and shifted the conversation back to business. “When do you want to get started giving me the background information on the lawsuit against you?”
Travis did not miss a beat. “How about tonight?”
Chapter Three
An hour and a half later, tensions were high. And so, Travis thought, were his emotions.
“Do you want me to help you or not?” Liz demanded, her frustration with him apparent.
Travis figured she would be a hard-charging advocate. It was the reason he had hired her. It did not mean, however, that he wanted to bare his soul, to her or anyone else. He sat back in his chair and regarded her with unchecked irritation, taking in her upswept auburn hair. “How my relationship with Olympia started is irrelevant to the case.”
Bracing her hands on her desktop, Liz leaned toward him. She looked at him as if she could read him right down to the marrow of his soul and was not exactly thrilled with what she found.
She arched an elegant eyebrow and moved around to stand in front of the desk. “I will decide what’s relevant and what is not.” She stared at him with lawyerly intensity, then enunciated slowly, “Your job, as my client, is to answer my questions as openly and honestly as possible.”
Telling himself he could handle her, even in full battle mode, Travis added, “And stop thinking like an attorney while I’m at it, right?” He was beginning to see what made her so formidable in and out of the courtroom.
“It would help.” Frowning, Liz picked up the legal documents he had brought for her to peruse. “I don’t need you second-guessing me.”
Then what did she need?
Not that he wanted to go there. Especially with the trouble he was in.
Travis slouched in his chair, reluctantly returning his mind to business. “That’s not what I was doing.”
Liz looked down her nose at him in rigid disagreement. “You’re trying to run the defense.” As if finding it difficult to be that physically close to him, she abruptly straightened and moved away. “And you of all people ought to know better, because ‘a man who is his own lawyer has a fool for his client.’”
Much as he wanted to, Travis could not argue with that. He sighed and glanced around Liz’s law office. Unlike the ultra-luxurious one he’d had at Haverty, Brockman & Roberts, this one was sparsely decorated, with beige walls, sturdy dark wood furniture and comfortable client chairs. The focal point here was Liz. With her hair twisted into a casual knot at the nape of her neck, her attitude unerringly focused and businesslike, she was clearly in her element.
She belonged here, Travis thought. Not working the ranch.
She picked up the yellow legal pad she’d been writing on moments earlier and settled herself in her chair. “Now, back to the beginning …” she continued.
Travis tried not to groan.
“How—and under what circumstances—did you and Olympia Herndon meet?”
Not as accidentally as I thought. “I met her at a charity function we were both attending. I’d heard she was looking for new representation. Before I could approach her, she introduced herself to me.”
Liz scribbled furiously. “Did you talk about her search?”
“Not that evening, no. We just got to know each other a little bit.”
Tapping her pen impatiently on the pad, Liz prompted, “And then what?”
Already restless, Travis stood and prowled her office, inspecting the art—mostly black-and-white photographs of the Four Winds—on the wall. “I saw her again … socially … at a dinner party given by the senior partners and their wives. And then at another fundraiser.” He spun around. Lounging against a bookcase, he thrust his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “A few weeks later, I started representing her.” Aware that if they kept up the conversation they could be headed into dangerous territory, he compressed his lips. “Why does any of this matter?”
“Because Ms. Herndon is asserting in her lawsuit that you did not provide adequate, competent representation or act as a zealous advocate on her behalf.”
Fury gathered in his gut. He hated being put in the position of having to defend himself. “I did everything possible to get that wildcatter to sign with her company. He just didn’t want to.”
Liz studied him. “Would he testify to that?”
Travis wondered if the skin of her face was as silky-soft as it looked. Ditto for her lips.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Digger Dobbs doesn’t strike me as somebody who wants to get involved in somebody else’s mess.”
Liz twisted her lips. Making him wonder if she still kissed the way she once had—like an innocent virgin who preferred to keep her heart under lock and key.
“Well, he’s at the center of this so we’re going to have to contact him.” She paused as her cell phone began to ring, and glanced at the caller ID. “Sorry. This is the Laramie County Sheriff’s Department. I’ve got to get it.” She picked up. “Liz Cartwright. Yeah, hi, Rio. What? You’re kidding! No. Heck, no! Tell him I’ll be right there!”
She clicked off the phone, already half out of her seat. “Client emergency. I’ve got to go.”
Irked to be put on hold, Travis rose. “What about—”
Liz flashed by. “We’ll pick it up later. Even tonight if you want. Right now, I have to get over to Spring Street before J. T. Haskell lands himself in jail.”
TRAVIS HEADED OUT THE DOOR after her. “J. T. Haskell is your client?”
Liz cast a look at the dusky sky. The sun had slipped past the horizon, and it would be dark soon. “I have a habit of taking on underdogs.”
Travis nodded. “So it would seem,” he retorted drily.
Liz slanted him a glance while locking up. Having a big-shot attorney for a client was going to be harder than she’d thought. Partly because he was reluctant to relinquish control, and partly because she had the gut feeling there was still a lot he wasn’t telling her. Things she needed to know to adequately represent him.
But that was no surprise. Clients never gave their attorney all the information up front. Usually because they were trying to maintain their dignity, garner respect. It was up to counsel to retrieve all the facts and get to the bottom line.
Even when it came to defending another attorney.
Liz sighed. As they headed toward the parking lot, she turned the conversation back to the matter at hand. “Why are you so surprised I’m representing J.T.?”
Travis shrugged. “I heard he went off the deep end after his wife died last year.”
An understatement if there ever was one. “He kind of has,” she admitted with a grimace.
“He’s been arrested a couple of times for bar fights.”
“Actually, he was just busting up some furniture. He wasn’t drunk and he didn’t hit anyone. But, yeah, there are a number of places he can’t go in now because of his bad behavior.”
“Anyone talked to him about joining one of Kate Marten-McCabe’s grief groups over at the hospital?”
Liz’s frustration spiraled. “Everyone has.”
“He’s not buying it?”
“He doesn’t think he has a problem.”
Travis stopped at her SUV, all protective male. “I’m going with you.”
