Ladd Springs (Ladd Springs, Book #1) (3 page)

So
Ernie Ladd became sole owner of Ladd Springs, inheriting the remainder of his
father’s money as well. Delaney knew for a fact there was almost a quarter of a
million dollars left in his account, yet he wasn’t paying the taxes. Stubborn
fool. Eventually the two issues would cross paths and Ladd Springs would be
caught in the middle. “Mom wanted this property to stay in the family and I
intend to see that it does.”

Ernie
stuck out his chest. “I decide what happens from here.”

No
surprise, Ernie was back in full fighting mode. But the saddest part was that
he was dying of cancer. Cancer. The doctors told him he had a few years at best,
but instead of enjoying his last days on God’s green earth, he chose to fight.

Fight—to
his dying day. Ernie would rather jeopardize the Ladd Springs legacy than leave
it to her. And now he was threatening to give it to Clem?

Delaney
shook her head and walked toward the steps. No way in hell would Clem Sweeney
take ownership of her home, but at this point, it was a matter for the courts. If
Ernie remained firm in his commitment to deny his son Jeremiah any right of inheritance,
then Delaney and Felicity were it as the only other blood relatives,. In
Delaney’s mind, there was no reason for him to go back on his promise to his
sister. Susannah made him swear that the property would stay within the family
and that he would take care of Delaney and Felicity—to which Ernie agreed. Wrote
it down so Susannah could see it with her own eyes. Albert would be looked
after, of course, maintaining his right to live on the property until his dying
day. His two sons were another story. One was in jail, the other on the run.

Jeremiah
could certainly contest the transfer, but it was unlikely he would. Gone for twenty
years now, he wasn’t in the picture and no one around here would draw him in. Even
his ex-girlfriend, Annie Owens, wouldn’t call him, and
she
claimed to be
the mother of his child—the same child she was squawking about getting rights
to the property for. As if Ernie would ever agree to giving Jeremiah’s
offspring rights.

As
it stood, if Ernie continued to refuse, it would leave Delaney to deal with the
probate process. It was a headache she didn’t need, one her mother would have
never wanted her to endure.

“I’m
going home,” Delaney announced. She’d get nowhere arguing another second with the
man. “I’ll have Felicity come by around eight.”

Like
a pacifier to a babe, it settled the issue as she knew it would. For all her
uncle’s bluster and blow, he had a soft spot for Felicity. Delaney rounded the
railing and caught the intensity in the gaze Clem fastened on her uncle. It
struck her as odd, coming from the dullest tool in the shed. She hesitated. Was
she missing something?

When
Clem realized she was staring at him, he cleared his expression, replacing it
with sugar and sunshine. “Have a good evening, Dell.”

Chapter Three

Unsettled
by Clem’s sudden shift, Delaney returned to her hillside cabin. Located behind
the main house, her small home was situated on the ridge about twenty yards up,
tucked away within a cluster of trees and rocks. It was accessible only by a
narrow, winding trail—a steep path which she climbed with ease. Ease, because
she’d been hiking it for years. Upon reaching the top, she was only mildly winded
and closed the distance to the tidy hideaway that once belonged to her mother.

Built
from roughhewn logs secured together by thick swaths of cement, it was square
in shape, single story with a tiny loft. It was precariously perched on the
mountain’s edge, built for her by Uncle Ernie and Albert during high school. They
dubbed it her private little corner of heaven, even screened the front porch to
keep the bugs away. Tears pricked at the memory. It was her mother’s special
place, the safe haven she sought when she needed to get away from the stress of
life, the demands of family, the gruff presence of her father. Grandpa Ladd was
no different from Ernie in that both were thorny by nature, the elder
compounding trouble when he drank, swelling his heart with anger and his mouth
with obscenity. Delaney remembered bits and pieces of his rage from her own
childhood, but it was the tales Uncle Albert told that set her heart on fire. Not
only was Grandpa Ladd’s heart hard as rock, but his hand was swift with a belt,
whipping the boys on a regular basis. Knowing them as she did now, Delaney
could understand they might have deserved some of it, at least on occasion. But
her mother?

The
bastard even took the leather strap to her. Delaney grabbed a sanded smooth
railing, kicking her boots hard against the top porch step to remove as much
dirt as she could.

Thinking
back, Delaney couldn’t imagine her mom enduring anything so brutal, yet she
never once mentioned it, never once spoke a cross word against her father. Granted
her mom didn’t speak many kind words either, but from what Delaney had learned,
the man deserved a tongue lashing and then some. Checking her boots, she
grunted. The stuff stuck like glue, more a mix of wet dirt and heavy clay. Nothing
short of scrubbing the boots clean or soaking them in the creek would do the
trick, but she kicked off as much as she could.

Whatever
. She jogged up
the steps. None of it would see the inside of the cabin. Delaney had a rule
against shoes in the house, same as her mother before her. Stopping at the
engraved glass front door—the glass panel an antique she picked up at a local
junkyard—Delaney tugged her boots free and set them alongside the welcome mat. Felicity
could sweep the rest of it off the porch this evening, once she returned from
her visit with Ernie.

Carrying
her gun inside, she indulged in the smooth wood floors beneath her socked feet.
Turning on the chandelier, a petite wrought iron piece she’d picked up at an
antique store in town, she breathed easy. Coming home was like stepping into
another world, a world free of trouble and stress, where she could unplug and
get back to the basics of living. Like food. The bag of fresh okra in her
refrigerator promised a delicious addition to her fried chicken tonight. Her
energy pitched and heaved in a sudden wave of exhaustion, but she had to hurry.
Felicity would be home shortly and she needed to get dinner started.

An
hour later, Delaney reached into the oven and pulled the tray of cornbread from
the oven, the sweet scent of corn billowing in a hot cloud around her face. At
the sound of scuffling on the porch deck, she turned to see her daughter’s
slender figure through the glass.

Within
seconds, Felicity let herself in, her pink socks stark against the wood floors
as she breezed indoors. “Smells good in here.”

“Best
air freshener known to man,” Delaney replied, bumping the oven door closed with
her knee, placing the pan of golden bread loaves on the waiting quilted pad. The
fried chicken was cooling on a platter lined with paper towels and covered with
foil while the okra continued to sizzle stovetop in a cast iron pan.

“You
won’t hear any complaints from me.” Easing the backpack from her shoulder,
Felicity set it down beside the leather sofa and joined her mother in the
kitchen. “I’m hungry.”

“Good.
I made extra. Thought you could take a few with you for Ernie.”

She
nodded. “He loves your cornbread.”

But
never said a word to her about it. Not once, not ever, not so much as a thank
you. He reserved compliments for one person only. Felicity. Delaney considered
her child. From her delicate features and soft-spoken manner to the tender
shade of strawberry blonde hair currently pulled back into a ponytail, Felicity
reminded Ernie of his sister Susannah. Not only was she the spitting image, she
treated him with the same gentle affection, despite his carrying on. Delaney
lightly pinched Felicity’s chin. “He’s lucky to have you.”

She
waved off the praise. “He’s not so bad. And he gives me an opportunity to
practice. Let’s me play anything I want.”

“Because
everything you play is beautiful.”

She
rolled her eyes. “Mom.”

It
was a ritual Felicity had begun less than a year ago, but one Ernie now lived
for. Each and every night, she sat and played her flute for him. Soft and
serene, like a beast lulled to submission, he sat and listened to her play. Song
after song, she practiced her craft. Fluting was Felicity’s passion. One day,
she hoped to play professionally as part of an orchestra, but that was only a
dream. Her grades were good, earning her a partial scholarship, but it only
covered the first year. Delaney’s fear was that she wouldn’t be able to afford
the next three.

“Don’t
‘mom’ me. It’s true. You need to further your training, and why he doesn’t see
that is beyond me. We need title to the property so we can sign on for the
logging before they go elsewhere.”

Felicity’s
hazel gaze clouded. “Are you sure that won’t ruin the land?”

Delaney
wiped her palms against the white cotton apron tied at her waist. “You won’t
even notice. They want to work the north side of the property. A patch of about
a hundred acres. We’ll never see them.”

Felicity
sank to a barstool. “A hundred seems so much...”

“Clearing
the forest is good for the land,” Delaney told her. “The trees will grow back
and we’ll have plenty enough money to pay the property taxes
and
your
tuition.”

“Maybe
I shouldn’t go to UT. It’s causing so much trouble—”

Delaney
held up a stiff hand. “I don’t ever want to hear those words come out of your
mouth again. You’re going. That’s final.”

Felicity’s
small mouth closed as instructed, but the hint of frown upset Delaney. Her
daughter should not feel guilty about getting an education. She shouldn’t be
dragged into the mess of Ernie’s foul disposition, nor should she have to
endure threats from a complete stranger. Nick Harris’s image formed in her
mind. While the man seemed nice enough, looked nice enough—nicer than anyone
would ever hear
her
admit to—he did not have her daughter’s best
interests at heart. He wanted this land for himself, for his hotel. Delaney
needed it for her family, her daughter’s future. The two were incompatible
goals.

Delaney
brushed the stressful thoughts from her head, hushed the clamor of her pulse. She
didn’t want to think about it right now. She wanted to enjoy Felicity.
Loosening a mini loaf of cornbread from the black iron bake pan, Delaney
slathered it with butter, set it on a plate and slid it toward her daughter. “So
how was school?”

“Good.”
Felicity picked up the yellow bread and held it before her mouth. “The Parker
boys asked me to be their date for their graduation party.”

Delaney
gaped at her. “Both of them?”

Felicity
smiled and said, “It’s the current running joke between them.” She bit off the
end of the bread.

Identical
twins, they forever teased Felicity. They claimed to have lost their combined
heart to her—it was she who had to choose. “And you said?”

“Told
them I’d have to think about it.” She cast a dramatic gaze toward the ceiling
and said, “Because they’re
so
different, I’d have to decide what kind of
night I want grad night to be—fun or funner.” She giggled. “It’s such a
dilemma!”

“Funner
is not a word.” Delaney dipped her chin and peered at her daughter. “Please
tell me I’m not wasting my money on flute lessons when you should be tutored in
grammar.”

“JK.”

Just
joking
.
Delaney shook her head at the incessant “text turned speech.” JK. IDK. LOL. It
was like some kind of new language with these kids.

Felicity
peeked beneath the foil of fried okra. “Are these from Ashley’s garden?”

“They
are. Picked them myself.” Ashley Fulmer had been her mother’s best friend. She
was also their local gardener-extraordinaire, with a thumb greener than a
meadow in summertime.

“Travis
and Troy want to go riding this weekend. Is that okay?”

The
mention of riding led Delaney’s thoughts back to this afternoon. “Yes. But I
don’t want you in the woods by yourself.”

She
furrowed her brow. “Since when?”

Since
we have strangers lurking between the trees. “Since today.”

“Mom.”

It
was Felicity’s one word rebuttal spoken with emphasis to insist,
I’m an
adult now
.
You can be honest with me
. On one level, that was true. But
her daughter was not strong on self-defense. It wasn’t in her nature. “There’s
been some trouble with trespassing,” Delaney informed her. “And until we can
get a handle on it, I don’t want you out there by yourself.”

Delaney
knew Felicity understood. Ladd Springs adjoined public land—the USFS—and it
happened that on occasion people ventured onto private property. That property
was Ladd property. But to do so, they had to ignore posted signs against
trespassing, which meant anyone on their land were people willing to ignore the
rules. Not exactly the nicest slice of population.

“Okay,”
Felicity agreed. “I’ll make the boys stay with me.”

“Tough
life you have,” Delaney teased, breathing a sigh of relief as she tested the
temperature of her bread. Her daughter was mature. She knew there was danger
out in the world and she was willing to be smart about it. While she refused
her mother’s offer to teach her how to shoot, Felicity wouldn’t purposefully
test fate.

After
dinner, the tray of cornbread warmed by the oven in one hand, her long, slim,
velvet flute case in the other, Felicity traversed the path with ease, careful
not to slide on the rocks as she took her shortcut down to Uncle Ernie’s house.
Leaping over a rock, she hit level ground with a thud, raising both plate and
case in sync to keep them level. Crossing the narrow bridge, she took in the
thick scent of trees in the air, the moist smell of earth, the constant
movement in the creek below. She loved being outdoors. Felicity could almost
feel the crisp chill to the water, the slimy texture to the rounded rocks that
shifted in color from tans and browns to grays and blacks. The wall of trees
surrounding the small clearing was drenched in gold, the sky a gorgeous blend
of violet, blue and orange. Early May, days were longer now, leaving plenty
enough sunlight to light her way. But later, when the night turned black, her
mom would insist on making the return trip with her. It was her prerogative,
she’d claimed.

Not
that she didn’t appreciate her mother’s watchful eye, she did. She understood
where her mother’s over-protectiveness came from and understood it would not
change. Ever. Actually, she considered herself fortunate to have a mother who
cared so much. So many kids at school didn’t. Half their parents were gone, the
other half present but checked out. Unlike the Parker boys. Their mom and dad
were checked in and totally charged. Actually, their house ran like a zoo, the
back door swinging open and closed as kids came and went. Travis and Troy were
the youngest of eight, or as Mrs. Parker called them, “momma’s little surprise
bundle at the end of the litter.”

Felicity
smiled as she recalled their dual request for her company to the prom.
Felicity,
we’ve wrestled four times and are two for two. Either you choose, or one of us
gets hurt
.

I’ll
go with both of you
.
She giggled, pleased with herself. She adored the attention, but truth be
known, there was only one Parker boy for her. Boots clapping up the steps,
Felicity tucked visions of him away and rapped on the wood door. “Uncle Ernie,
I’m here!”

Letting
herself in, she saw her uncle teetering down the stairs. “Well, you don’t have
to yell about it.”

Felicity’s
instincts were to rush over and steady him as he made his way down, but the one
time she did he got mad at her. “I don’t need no help gettin’ around my house,”
he’d hollered. So rather than assist, she patiently waited until he landed on
the bottom step, his white knuckle grip locked solid around the wooden post. She
held out the tinfoil-covered paper plate. “Mom made cornbread.”