Cowboy at the Crossroads

At the same time, Rose gave birth to a baby girl, who died after a few weeks. In a depressed and disturbed state of mind, Rose cancelled Emily’s adoption, and when Emily’s baby was born, Rose took her home and raised Rebecca as her own. Emily never knew. She went to college, then to medical school, never knowing the truth. Everyone thought Becca was Rose’s—even Emily.

For years, Emily had nightmares about giving her baby away, and when Jackson came back into her life, she told him about the pregnancy. He was angry at first, and then they set out to find their daughter—neither of them dreaming that she was so close.

Becca took a sip of coffee as she relived the heartache of that time. She’d felt so angry when she found out what Rose had done. She’d been furious with everyone, including Emily. Especially Emily. The mother who’d let her go. But eventually they had gotten through all the pain, and Emily and Jackson were more deeply in love than ever. Now they had Scotty, too. Rose and Owen still lived in Rockport, and Becca saw them as often as she could.

Forgiving was easy, but forgetting was sometimes hard.

Someone had once asked her what you do when you discover you’re not really who you thought you were. The answer was that you fall apart, then you pick yourself up and get on with your life. Now Becca was wondering if she should be making bigger changes in that orderly life of hers and—

The ringing of the phone stopped her thoughts. She put her cup down and picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

“Dr. Becca Talbert?”

Becca recognized that voice. For the past year and at the oddest times she’d seen his face and the sadness in his eyes.

“Yes,” she answered readily.

“This is Cord Prescott.”

Becca already knew that. But why was he calling her after a whole year without a word? Why was he calling when they were practically strangers?

“You may not remember me,” he said, “but I’m Colton’s brother.”

“Yes, I remember you, Cord, and your little girl. How are you?” Over the past year, she’d often asked Colton about Cord and his daughter. He always said they were “trying to adjust.”

“Not good,” he answered. “Colton said you’re a pediatrician and I thought you might be able to help me.”

“With Nicki, you mean?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I know you’re busy, but I’m not sure what to do anymore.”

Becca curled her feet beneath her, settling more comfortably into the chair. “Tell me about Nicki.”

“I’ve taken her to several doctors, even a child psychologist, but she won’t talk to them. She just clings to me, and if I leave the room she screams and cries.”

“Then she hasn’t adjusted to her mother’s death?”

“Not at all,” he said. “She insists on staying in her room and she’s hardly eating. She’s lost so much weight I can hardly stand it. She used to love the outdoors, but she won’t even ride her horse. She won’t talk about her mother, and I’m at my wits’ end. I think she’s making herself physically ill with grief. I’d really like to get your professional opinion.”

“Of course. I’d be glad to help any way I can,” Becca said instantly, her heart heavy at the thought of what Cord was going through.

“Thanks, Becca. I’d appreciate it.”

“But I’m not seeing patients until July.”

“Oh.”

There was a long pause. “Nicki doesn’t do well in an office environment. I was hoping I could persuade you to come out to the ranch and see her.”

This time Becca was the one who was startled, but it didn’t take her long to decide. “I can do that. As a matter of fact, I have the afternoon free. Why don’t I drive out there today.”

“Thank you so much,” he said earnestly. “Do you remember where we are?”

“Yes. But Cord…you have to understand that I treat the body. Nicki may need a psychologist. I’ve had courses, but it’s not my specialty.”

“Just see her, that’s all I ask. Colton says you’re a very good doctor—and I trust his judgment.”

“Fine. I’ll be there around four o’clock.”

As Becca hung up the phone, she wondered what else Colton had told him about her. She shook her head. What did that matter? Nicki Prescott needed help, and she had to do everything she could.

CORD REPLACED THE RECEIVER with a long sigh. He remembered how comforting Becca had been the day of the funeral. He’d been so overwhelmed by anger, disillusionment and pain that he didn’t remember much, but he remembered Becca. And she would help his baby. She had to.

He hurried down the hall to the kitchen. Della, the housekeeper, was sitting on a stool, peeling potatoes. At sixty-five, Della was a high-strung woman who never seemed to tire or lose energy. She’d been with the Prescott family since Cord was a young boy. Her hair was now gray and her blue eyes not as sharp, but in other ways she was unchanged.

“What are we having for supper?” he asked.

“Roast. Why?” She didn’t look up, just kept on peeling potatoes.

“Because Dr. Talbert’s coming to see Nicki, and I’m going to invite her to eat with us.”

“Dr. Talbert?” Della raised her head, frowning. “Isn’t that Colton’s…friend? Becca, right?”

“Yes.”

“Does Colton know she’s coming?”

“No, and what difference does it make?” There was a note of exasperation in his voice that he couldn’t hide. He hadn’t called Colton because he didn’t want a lot of people around. He wanted to keep this as private as possible, for Nicki’s sake.

“None whatsoever,” Della replied, returning to her potatoes.

“Becca will be here to see Nicki, that’s all.”

“It’s time someone helped that child. She can’t go on like this much longer.”

“I know. That’s why I want this evening to be special—calm and quiet—so Becca can interact with Nicki.”

“Does the queen of the house know you’re having a guest for supper?”

“I don’t give a damn what Blanche thinks.”

“Your mother doesn’t like it when things are done without her knowledge.”

“You can tell Blanche—” He stopped and took a breath. “Never mind, I’ll handle Blanche. Just prepare an extra-special meal.”

Della glanced at him. “You’re very excited about this.”

“I am. My daughter’s life depends on it.”

AS BECCA WAS TRYING TO DECIDE what to wear, she thought about Nicki. The child should have adjusted to her mother’s death by now, but it was hard to judge with children. Trauma affected them differently. Becca could still hear her saying in that pitiful little voice, “I can’t find my mommy.” Death was so hard to explain to children, and Becca wasn’t convinced she could help Nicki. However, she’d certainly try.

She dressed in a tan pantsuit and brown blouse, then brushed her long brown hair and let it hang loose down her back. Working or at school, she always wore it pinned up or clipped at the nape of her neck. As a teenager, her hair was much longer, an unruly mane that used to drive Emily crazy. But these days Emily never complained about Becca’s hair. Considering everything that had happened in their lives, they got along exceptionally well.

Becca stared at her brown eyes and olive complexion in the mirror. Everyone said she was looking more and more like her mother. Becca had always thought Emily was beautiful, but she didn’t feel she was. Emily had a grace and sophistication that Becca felt she lacked. Becca was more down-to-earth in both temperament and appearance. She had far less patience than Emily and often lost her temper. Emily never did, and Becca envied that about her. Becca envied everything about her wonderful mother; maybe that was her problem.

She applied lipstick and forced herself to stop thinking. All this free time, all this soul-searching, was making her feel confused. And she wasn’t confused—she just needed to get her life and goals in perspective and then everything else would fall into place. Like her social life. Gin said she didn’t have one, but Gin was wrong. She’d dated several interns, and each occasion had proved to be an exercise in restraint. They thought sex was the normal conclusion to a date. She didn’t. She wanted love and passion—not just sex. Emily had told her when she was a teenager that sex without love was just an act and she would know when the time was right. So far, that time hadn’t happened for her. In high school, her boyfriend Tommy had pressed her continually for sex, but she’d never taken that step. Not with him or with any other man.

When she’d found out about her birth, her world had been turned upside down and she rebelled, dating guys Rose and Emily disapproved of. Still, she couldn’t degrade herself by sleeping with boys she didn’t care about merely to punish her family. Later she was so busy with her studies that love eluded her, and she refused to have sex without it. Her feelings on the matter had to do with her upbringing and with Emily’s influence. Now she was older and knew more about sex and life, but her standards hadn’t changed. She was waiting for the right man…and love. Any nice guys left out there? One came to mind and she quickly grabbed her purse. She didn’t want to keep a nice guy waiting.

BECCA HEADED FOR INTERSTATE 10 and drove out of Houston toward Beaumont. The city gave way to farmland and ranchland. Soon she saw the stone and wrought-iron entrance. The sign—Triple Creek. Prescott Ranch—appeared on a high arc above the cattle guard. She drove through, between wood rail fences, watching the grass sway gently in the breeze and the cows and horses grazing. The land was mostly flat with creeks and valleys; here and there she noticed some beautiful old oak trees.

The white stone ranch house came into view. Sprawling and roomy, it had a long front veranda with stone pillars and a wrought-iron fence that enclosed the backyard. She parked in front, grabbed her medical bag and walked to the door. She rang the bell, which she heard resounding throughout the house.

Cord opened the door, and for a moment Becca was speechless. He had on worn boots and jeans with a blue cotton shirt, the sleeves rolled up. His dark blond hair was combed neatly and curled onto his collar. His mustache and honed masculine features told Becca that here was a true Texas cowboy. That wasn’t an idle impression. She knew from what Colton had said that Cord’s appearance was a true reflection of his personality and his calling.

His mustache moved slightly as he said, “Come in, please. Sit down.”

Becca walked past him through the large foyer and into the den. She took a seat on a leather sofa.

Cord watched her for a second, then sat opposite her in a matching leather chair. A saying he’d heard many times from Gus, his ranch foreman and Della’s husband, came to mind. That gal’s been spit and polished until she shines. Cord never paid much attention to Gus’s sayings, but looking at Becca, he knew what it meant. Becca with her bright smile and sophisticated manner caught his eye like a shining star. No wonder Colton was so enamored of her.

“Thank you for coming. I’m really grateful,” he said before he got completely sidetracked.

“You’re welcome,” Becca answered, glancing around. “Where’s Nicki?”

“Upstairs in her room. As always.”

“She’s been in her room all day?”

“Yes. The only time she comes out is when I force her, and it’s getting increasingly hard to do that since she cries most of the time.”

“That’s not good, Cord,” she said in a solemn voice.

“I know—and I’m hoping you can figure out what to do,” he replied.

She saw a familiar sadness in his brown eyes, but it was much more intense than the last time, and something in her reacted strongly to that—just as before.

“Can I see her?” she asked with a catch in her voice. “I’d like to examine her.”

“Sure.” He got up and led the way toward the stairs. At the bottom, he stepped aside to let her go first. She wore medium heels and felt dwarfed by his height. But it wasn’t only that. She was very aware of Cord Prescott—as a man. Maybe it was the cowboy thing. That persona intrigued her, as it did most women. Or maybe she just empathized with him because of what he was suffering, because of his grief and his fear for his daughter.

“Second door on the left,” Cord said as they reached the landing. There were hardwood floors throughout the house and beautiful area rugs. A lot of the furniture was antique, probably dating from when the house was first built. Portraits of Prescott men were displayed on the wall of the staircase. Becca remembered Colton telling her that all the Prescott men’s names began with the letter C; it was a tradition kept alive from generation to generation. She wondered why there were no pictures of Prescott women or wives. They could be in another area of the house, she supposed, and she would definitely ask Colton about it.

Cord opened the door and they went inside. Nicki sat in a children’s rocker clutching the same doll she had a year ago. Becca was dismayed by what she saw. The child’s blond curly hair was neatly combed and in pigtails, and she wore pink shorts, a matching top and sandals—but her cheeks were hollow and her little arms and legs were so thin. She reminded Becca of anorexic teenagers she’d seen. What had happened to this child?

Cord squatted beside her. “Baby, we have company. Do you remember Becca?”

Nicki hid her face in the doll’s hair. Just as she had a year ago.

Becca knelt on the floor. “It was a long time ago, but I told you the story about Cinderella and the prince. The prince who rode a horse like your daddy. Do you remember?”

Nicki shook her head and didn’t look at her.

“Would you like me to tell you another story?”

Nicki shook her head again, but Becca wasn’t giving up.

“I know lots of stories,” Becca said. “Of course, most of them are about monsters or scary stuff that my brother, Scotty, likes. But we’re girls and we don’t care for that kind of nonsense, do we.”

Nicki still didn’t answer and seemed to burrow into the chair.

“Baby, Becca asked you a question,” Cord said softly. Nicki still didn’t respond. “Look at me, baby,” Cord added in that same soft tone.

Nicki slowly raised her head and stared at Cord. “I’m tired, Daddy. Make her go ’way.”

Becca’s heart sank, although she didn’t know why, since she hadn’t expected any miracles. It was just so painful seeing the child in this condition.

“I’m a doctor, Nicki,” she told her. “I’m going to check your vital signs. Is that okay?”

Nicki didn’t answer, but Cord nodded. Becca opened her bag and took out her stethoscope. Nicki’s signs were weak, and Becca knew she was in a danger zone. Her first reaction was to get her to a hospital immediately, but something held her back. The hospital would only frighten Nicki, and she wanted to try a different approach first.

“Daddy, make her go ’way,” Nicki whimpered, when Becca had finished her exam.

“Okay, baby,” Cord said, smoothing Nicki’s hair. Becca noticed that his hand shook slightly. “Della made some chocolate chip cookies. Why don’t I get you one.”

“Not hungry.”

“Please eat something, baby.” The ache in Cord’s voice squeezed Becca’s heart until she had trouble breathing.

“I’m not hungry, Daddy.”

“Okay, baby,” Cord said, and kissed her cheek. He got up, and they walked back down the stairs and into the den.

Cord started to pace; she could see he was terribly upset. “I can’t take much more of this. I can’t stand to see her in this state.”

“Yes, she has deteriorated. Her body’s starved for nourishment, she’s dehydrated and her heart is weak.”

“I don’t know what else to do!”

Becca knew it was time for some hard truths, and Cord wasn’t going to like what she had to say. But in the few minutes she’d been with them, she could see what part of the problem was.

“Are you familiar with the term enabler?”

He stopped pacing and stared at her. “What?”

“An enabler, Cord. That’s what you are. You’re enabling Nicki to stay in that room. You’re enabling her not to eat. You’re enabling her to do whatever she wants.”

His eyes darkened. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“If Nicki doesn’t want to eat, you don’t make her. If she wants to stay in her room, you let her. You’re giving in to her every whim—and it has to stop.”

His eyes became blacker, if that was possible. “My God, you want me to force her to eat and to drag her out of her room?”

“I’m afraid so,” Becca admitted.

“After what my daughter’s been through, I would never do that to her.”

Becca swallowed the constriction in her throat. “It’s called tough love, and you have to do something, or Nicki will not survive this. Can’t you see that?”

Cord swung away in anger, then swung back. “I think you should leave,” he said in the coldest voice she’d ever heard. “You’re not the doctor or the woman I thought you were.”

CHAPTER TWO

“NO,” BECCA SAID without blinking.

“Excuse me?” Cord said, and she was chilled by his scorn.

“You asked me to help Nicki, and I’m not leaving until I get that chance.”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

She watched the stubborn look on his face and knew he was struggling with his own emotions. He didn’t want anyone to hurt Nicki—ever again. He wanted what was best for his child, but he was blinded by love.

“Sorry, it doesn’t work that way,” she told him. “I’m here and I’m staying. You can clearly see that Nicki needs help. That’s why you called me. At her age, her muscles and bones are developing, but without nourishment, that growth is being hindered. You may not like my methods, but for Nicki’s sake, you have to give me a chance.”

“I won’t allow her to be upset.”

His voice wasn’t as angry or cold as before, and Becca felt a glimmer of hope. “Is being upset worse than the almost catatonic state she’s in now?”

He didn’t answer, just stared at her with brooding eyes.

Becca kept on. “She’s going to get upset, Cord. You might as well resign yourself to that. She’ll be reacting to external stimuli, and that’s what she needs instead of this inert passivity.”

He ran both hands through his hair in a weary gesture and sank into a chair. “I just can’t take it when she cries.”

At the pain in his voice, she took a deep breath. “Why don’t you go outside and let me spend some time with her,” she suggested, knowing she would get nowhere with Nicki if Cord was around.

His eyes met hers. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“You have to,” she said, her eyes not wavering from his. “I have to reach Nicki on some level, and I can’t do that with you present.”

He didn’t say anything and Becca added, “At this point she needs to be in a hospital unless I can do something with her right now. You can either let me try, or call for an ambulance. It’s your choice.”

His face turned white and he drew in a long, shuddering breath. “Fine, you have until eight o’clock. Just be very careful, Becca. There is just so much I’ll allow.”

“I will not do anything that will harm her physically or mentally.”

“That’s all I need to know,” he said as he moved past her.

“Cord,” she said, and he turned back. “If you hear Nicki crying, please don’t come inside.”

There was a moment of indecision in his eyes, then he walked out the door.

Becca removed her jacket as she went into the kitchen. She had a plan in mind and it started with dinner. A gray-haired woman was putting meringue on a pie.

“Hi.” Becca smiled. “I’m Becca Talbert and I’m hoping you’re the housekeeper.”

The woman glanced up. “That’s me. My name is Della. What can I do for you?”

“What time does Nicki usually have dinner?”

“Dinnertime is six o’clock, but with the way that child eats, it’s anybody’s guess.”

“I’m not trying to be nosy, but could you tell me how many people will be here for dinner?”

“Edie eats in her room and Blanche is out, as usual, so there’ll be you and Cord.”

“I see,” Becca murmured. “Do you mind if I ask what you’re preparing?”

Della lifted an eyebrow. “That’s a popular question today, but we’re having roast, new potatoes, carrots and fresh green beans.” She pointed to a pan of rolls. “Homemade rolls are rising, and I just finished making a chocolate pie.”

“Does Nicki like any of these things?”

Della shrugged. “When Anette was alive, Nicki ate almost anything. She loved chocolate pie. Used to stick her finger in the chocolate and lick it off and Anette would get mad. She wanted Nicki to be a proper lady and act like a grown-up.” Della shook her head. “The woman was very peculiar.”

“Sounds as if you didn’t like her.”

“Like?” Della seemed to study the word for a moment. “Can’t really say. All I know is she got on my nerves. Too damn picky. All the food for Nicki had to be cooked at a certain temperature and it couldn’t stay out too long and she wanted everything made from scratch. She also insisted that Nicki eat at certain times, never mind the rest of the household. In that case, I told her, she needed to cook the food herself, but she never did. I don’t think she knew how to cook. She was a city girl with city ways and she hated this ranch.”

“But she loved Cord and Nicki?” Becca knew she was gossiping but she couldn’t resist. Besides, she told herself, she might learn some valuable piece of information, some fact that might help her.

“Oh yeah, that’s why she stayed.” Della put the meringue bowl in the sink. “I never knew she was drinking so much and neither did Cord. She hid it well. Such a tragedy.” Della shook her head again. “Cord locked up her room and nothing in there’s been touched since.”

It was a tragedy, Becca thought, and now it was time to heal—for the whole Prescott family. “Colton mentioned that she’d been on antidepressants, too.”

“That’s right. After Nicki was born, she just seemed to hit rock bottom. On the days she felt really bad, Edie or I would watch the baby. Cord wanted to hire a nurse, but Anette wouldn’t have it. She wanted to care for her child. She really did.”

“Then, Anette was a good mother.”

“Yes, even I will admit that. Nicki was never out of her sight for long. I guess that’s why the little one’s taking this so hard.”

Becca brought her concentration back to the present and Nicki. She’d been gossiping too long with Della. Something she didn’t normally do, but she was very curious about Anette. And Della had definitely filled in some of the background facts.

“Would you please set a place for Nicki at dinner?” Becca asked.

Della turned from the sink with a startled expression. “She’s coming down to eat?”

“Yes,” Becca said with more confidence than she was feeling. “I’m going up to see her now, and Della, if you hear her crying or complaining, please don’t interfere.”

“Does Cord know about this?” Della inquired, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Yes,” Becca answered, heading for the stairs. As she walked up, she silently prayed that she could get through to Nicki. She opened the door and found Nicki sitting exactly as they’d left her—and Becca knew she had to use drastic measures to shock Nicki back into the real world. To do that, she had to be strong and keep her emotions in check.

She knelt in front of the rocker. “Hi, Nicki,” she said cheerfully. “My name is Becca. I told you that before, remember?”

No response, as she had expected.

“I’m a doctor and I take care of girls and boys. If they don’t feel well, I try to make them feel better. Do you feel bad?”

No response.

In Becca’s experience, it was sometimes easier for a child to talk through an object like a toy. She focused on the doll in Nicki’s arms. “What’s your doll’s name?”

Again no response.

She sat on the floor in a comfortable position. “I had a doll similar to that when I was your age. My sis—” She stopped as she realized she was about to say sister—a minor slip of the tongue. It was so hard to think of Emily as her mother when she remembered herself at that age. Lord, she was getting sidetracked and it was a weird feeling, but one she could handle. “Actually, my mother bought me the doll. She bought me lots of dolls, but I liked that one best. I named her Chocolate because I love chocolate, and I called her Coco for short. Does your doll have a name?” Becca held her breath as she waited.