| Sneak Peek-Master Plan |
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MASTER PLAN
by-TA Gates & Luree Vanderpool
PROLOGUE-EXCERPT
“You’re scaring me.”
The empty desert mocked her. Heat waves shimmered in a mirage around them. Distortion. She wished she’d stayed on her
horse.
“I don’t want to hurt you, but there’s somebody else. I’ve told you and told you. I don‘t love you.”
She had to love him. It was the plan. She could not alter it. Mind searing desperation. Soul wrenching alteration. No return.
Reason faded, madness reined.
The girl could see deep pain, she wanted to fix it, but didn’t know how.
Unnatural stillness was disrupted by a gust of stinging sand. Thick moisture clung to her.
“Stop it! I’m not listening any more. This is too weird.” She turned her back to get on her horse. “If I see you hanging around
my ranch again, I’m going to tell.”
Bridget.
She knew. In that single word. She knew.
Turbulent clouds squeezed out sunlight. Deformed images danced. Bone chilling drops of rain. No escape.
Hands reached. Caressing.
“Stop! Let go!”
Tears mingled. Pleading words whirled on the roaring wind. Nails tore at hands. Colors burst. Unbearable pressure. The
world exploded.
Blackness.
You have to love me. Sobs tore through the suffocating rage. Bridget. Bridget! Her name pierced the strange inner darkening.
Thunder crashed overhead, the downpour quickened. The body was draped across a saddle, black hair dripping in the rain.
As fast as the desert sand was lifted out of the hole, rushing water pushed it back.
The shovel dropped to the ground. Hands compulsively rubbed. The feeling of giving flesh wouldn’t go away.
Why? Why didn’t you love me.
The monsoon blackened landscaped yielded no answers. Saguaro towered against reddened mountains, seeming to beckon
with outstretched arms. Clear sky threatened to break over the distant horizon.
Driven by desperation, the shovel resumed its chopping at the soggy topsoil, only to hit caliche again and again.
Frustration at the unyielding earth forced a new decision.
At last the body was enclosed in its final resting place. Sealed away. Forgotten.
Laughter echoed through the darkness.
CHAPTER ONE-EXCERPT
“There shouldn’t be any hard feelings bringing in someone new.” Jacob Porter's Texas drawl didn’t sound overly concerned.
“I really feel Leslie Miller would be an asset to the ranch. Carol just doesn’t have the necessary educational background.”
“You’re right. Sounds like it’s worth pursuing. You have our permission to approach her for the manager’s position.” Uncle
Jacob answered for both he and his brother Adam.
“I’ll get started on it right away.”
“Thanks for the suggestion. And be sure to keep us informed about the horse thefts.”
Unconscious fingers stroked black hair through framed glass. So familiar. Her beckoning eyes pulled the darkness near.
Bridget. She had come back.
“Jack Edwards, this is the third time this week you’ve called. I’ve told you I don’t love you. The relationship is over.”
“You know I’m used to getting my own way.”
“You can’t control everything, Jack. Back off.”
He laughed. “You should see this little ranch I found just east of Tucson. I’ll buy it and you can run it, Leslie. We could see
more of each other that way.”
“You just don’t get it, do you? You have nothing I want.” What possessed him to assume she’d be interested in further sharing
his mid-life crisis.
“Did I tell you my divorce was final last week? I’m a free man.”
What a relief for his wife, because it was obvious he hadn’t changed. Jerk. Leslie slammed down the phone in revulsion. She
had thought this part of her life was over. How far would she have to go to get rid of him? Obviously 200 miles was not
enough. He'd found her any way.
Leslie had never dreamed when she met Jack at a college seminar on business law, that things would unfold as they did. He
had been a guest speaker that day two years ago. A group of students had approached him for questions after his
presentation. She’d been immediately drawn to his charismatic personality.
The lawyer was the epitome of everything success stood for in Leslie’s mind. He was smart, handsome, personable,
confident, in control and not intimidated by anything. Jack was a sexy as hell older man. He had an athletic build that was a
testament to his virility. His sandy hair highlighted gold from the constant Arizona sun. His brown eyes had laugh lines, adding
to his appeal. Jack wore expensive pressed slacks, color rich polo shirts, always ready for a round of golf at his club. A sleek
state of the art watch was his only accessory. Except for his ever present leather briefcase. Jack could have stepped right
out of GQ. No wonder she’d fallen so hard when he’d singled her out and asked her to go to lunch.
They spent hours talking. Their philosophy and beliefs ran parallel. He immediately became a role model. Leslie knew she
could learn much from him. He was a step in her push to succeed on her own.
Jack had loved her mind before he loved her. They brought the best out in each other when they were exchanging ideas and
concepts. The romance came gradually.
Leslie’s feelings for Jack had run deep. The day after their first kiss, he had called with plans to fly them away for the
weekend. From then on they spent as much free time together as their schedules allowed.
She felt sophisticated by Jack’s side. She felt cherished in his arms on the nights they were together. Leslie had trusted him
explicitly, never questioning their commitment. Everything seemed to happen so gradually, so naturally, so easily.
Jack had always been thoughtful, he loved to surprise her with gifts, trips, showing up unexpectedly to take her to lunch,
concert tickets. As a lover he was just as generous.
Even though Leslie did not have Jack’s resources, she wanted to complement his expressions of love with gestures of her
own.
Early one afternoon, Jack had called to let her know he had won a high profile corporate embezzlement case that he had been
involved with for months. Since they hadn’t seen that much of each other during the trial, he'd wanted to celebrate with her
that night. She'd offered to fix an intimate dinner for the two of them.
The rest of that day was spent cleaning her small apartment. She'd washed her sheets, bought fresh flowers, cooked his
favorite dinner. Champagne was chilled, candles lit. A book they'd read reviews on in the New York Times was gift wrapped,
propped near his place at the table. She'd had on a soft, new dress, that clung in all the right places, her hair left down to frame
her face.
A knock on the door. He was early! She'd run, anticipation and joy caused her heart to race.
She'd flung the door open.
A strange woman stood there. Disappointment had filled Leslie. “I’m sorry, I’m not interested in whatever. Thank you,
though.” Leslie had started to shut the door.
“I’m Jack’s wife.”
She had considered it fate when her Dad called about a job opening just two days after she’d discovered her lover was a
married man. It was the perfect opportunity for her to escape Jack’s relentless pursuit and further her ambitions to be her
own boss. Being close to her Dad was an added bonus
Humiliation still burned through her. How stupid she'd been. She should never have allowed herself to be distracted. Leslie
would never trust anyone like that again. Especially herself.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Leslie pushed away thoughts of the past, concentrating on the day's scheduled events. She was focused. She's created a
new resolution. All work! No play!
Her position as General Manager of Rancho Feliz, a southern Arizona resort, encompassed all aspects of the business. Leslie
hired, fired, sometimes trained. She handled marketing, promotion, budgeting. She had the final say on all decisions
concerning the ranch. Many times she participated with guest activities, including trail riding to dishing out chow.
Leslie had worked hard to achieve her place in the community of ranch lands along the Mexican border. Adam and Jacob
Porter, co-owners of the ranch, often expressed their relief that Leslie was a take charge person. Neither of them had to
bother with leaving the comfort of their high rise penthouse, from which they ran their conglomerate, to endure stifling
summer heat or horse manure.
Bradford Harrison, the Porter’s nephew and resident accountant, poked his head into the office. He was Leslie’s cohort and
ally.
“Les, Southwest Produce delivered and is waiting for payment.”
“No problem.” She scrawled her signature across a check and handed it back to him with the invoice.
“Well, actually there is a slight problem. The cashbox didn’t balance again.”
“Six months! And they still don’t get the simple changes? It was supposed to make things easier.”
Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Bradford started to duck out
.
“Hey, wait! Your Uncle Adam’s already called this morning for an update on the horse situation.”
“I’m sure he’s really concerned. What is it, he needs another write-off?”
Leslie bantered. “You know, Bradford, we’re going to have to do something about your attitude.”
“Dance with me tonight and I promise I’ll change.” Bradford flashed his most charming grin.
“Get to work before you become a write-off.” Leslie got up and shoved him out the door. She hated it when he called her Les,
and he knew it. The phone brought her back to the desk.
“Leslie, when you get a chance come on down to the stables.” Her Dad requested, the receiver clicking in her ear
“What now? Hope it has nothing to do with the barn dance. Better go check it out,” she mumbled to herself. Leslie owned up
to the fact that she really hated being at her desk all day and would much rather be outdoors, whatever the excuse.
Her boots crunched on the cactus-lined path. The early morning sun shone brightly against her face, instantly baking her. She
gathered her fine black hair at the nape of her neck, wishing she had tied it back before she’d gone out. A breeze playing
against her damp skin gave an impression of temporary relief.
Leslie tried to relax the tension in her shoulders. The sense of unease she’d felt since first arriving at Rancho Feliz had not
diminished. Finding herself restless and exposed emotionally, was foreign to her self contained nature.
She wasn’t sure why she was reacting this way. Was it that Jack could still hurt her? No. Because he no longer existed. Or
wouldn't if he'd stop calling.
Maybe it was that she hadn’t lived out on a ranch since she’d left home. The open space left her naked, especially after the
press of Phoenix.
Leslie realized how citified she’d become. Lost in thought, she rounded the corner of the office building.
“Watch out!”
Leslie bounced off a hard body, slamming backwards onto the ground.
Before she could even catch her breath, strong hands hauled her to a standing position. Excruciating needles of pain burned
into her.
“Wait. Wait! Don’t move me.”
“Are you all right?”
“No. No, I’m not all right.”
“Is something broken? Here, let me help you."
“Please. Just leave me alone. I’ll be fine.”
She tried to hobble away leaving no doubt that she did not want his help. “Yes, ma’am.” Steve Weaver backed off, until the
source of her discomfort became obvious. Cholla cactus quivered like porcupine quills from the seat of her jeans.
Leslie attempted another tiny step. “Shit.”
He knew he had to help her, if only he could do it without laughing. Steve knelt in front of her and in one smooth motion gently
lay her over his shoulder.
“I would be more than happy to relieve you of your problem. My room is just…”
Leslie’s voice grated out, “Put me down.”
“Not my room? Yours then?” Well he’d tried to be serious.
The searing sting of the imbedded cactus and the nauseating dizziness from hanging upside down left Leslie humorless.
“Don't talk. Take me to the stables.” She hoped to God no one saw her.
*******************************************************************************************************************************************
“Ouch! Damn it.”
“Hold still. Almost through.” Red Miller, ranch foreman, was being as gentle as possible.
“How embarrassing. Here I am twenty-eight years old and I have to let my Dad pick cactus out of my butt.” Her grip tightened
on the baling wire as she leaned against the scratchy hay. The pungent odor of alfalfa filled her nostrils, threatening to make
her sneeze.
“So what’s up? You sounded kind of urgent on the phone.” Leslie got back to business.
“I talked to Sheriff Williams this morning.”
Leslie craned her neck to look at her father. There could only be one reason he would be talking to the sheriff. “Who’s
missing a horse now?
”
“We are,” Red answered gravely.
“What? The Porter’s are gonna have a fit! Why would anybody bother with stable horses? I mean they’re good working stock,
but not like Babe’s or Pollard’s quarter horses.” She could definitely tell a headache was coming on.
“Be still, Leslie. There. That’s the last one I can see from here. You’ll have to take your britches off if you want me to take a
closer look,” he said matter-of-factly.
“No thanks. I think I can manage now.” Leslie eased herself up from her awkward position and staggered around the barn
testing for any more cactus spines. “How long has our horse been missing?”
Red leaned his wiry frame against a center post, crossing his booted feet. His Levi‘s and pearl snap western shirt well worn.
His favorite straw Resistol had seen better days. “I figure it had to be after the last pasture rotation.”
“I never really thought they’d pick on us. Did Williams get some new leads? Anything?”
“He’s as tight mouthed as a calf sucking teat,” Red shrugged.
“What the sheriff really needs is some help. If Pollard hadn’t thrown a fit when Babe was elected president of the Rancher’s
Association, we could’ve taken action sooner. He’ll never accept the fact that a woman won the election, will he?”
“Nope.”
“Well, I guess I’d better report this to the Porters.” Leslie grimaced. “Then I‘m going to soak in a hot tub.”
Red pushed his hat back off his forehead, a slow smile tugging at the corners of his droopy mustache.
‘What are you smiling about?” Leslie knew that look.
“Ohh. I was just thinking. Sure was nice of that fella to give you a lift down here.”
“Nice? That’s a matter of opinion. I would’ve made it just fine on my own. Eventually. How mortifying to be toted down here by
one of the guests. And who asked him anyway?”
“Leslie.”
“OK! OK! But after Jack, men aren’t my favorite subject.”
“He still pestering you?” Red’s spine stiffened, concern evident on his weathered face.
“Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll handle it.” Leslie was torn between being touched and wanting to remind him that she wasn’t a little girl
any longer.
“I’m here if you need me,” he hugged his daughter.
Steve was still chuckling to himself, remembering the cactus studded jeans of the feisty woman he’d deposited at the barn.
She’d weighed practically nothing as he’d lifted her petite frame. Her dark hair, light eyes and olive skin were a striking
combination. She was a well put together little package.
Hoping to catch another glimpse of her, he spent the rest of the morning integrating himself into the resort’s daily routine.
He enjoyed walking the trails, amused by the scattered signs that warned ‘Rattlesnake Crossing’ or ‘Roadrunner Trail’
throughout the surrounding foothills. He noticed that the single adobe dwellings tucked among the mesquite offered each
guest privacy. Even the administrative dwellings were scattered about, creating the appearance of a small village.
After completely memorizing the layout of the ranch, Steve headed toward the bean and barbeque lunch line. Which was
complete with an authentic covered wagon, cooking utensils hung at the sides. Wooden tables were set with red checkered
clothes. The aromas were enticing.
From behind, a smoky voice inquired, “Howdy, stranger. You new in town?”
Steve had the impression of being transported back into an old-time western. “Yeah. Who’s asking.”
He looked into teasing blue eyes almost level with his own. Not many women came close to his height. Her sinewy stance
portrayed a seasoned wisdom that emphasized her bold manner.
Thrusting her hand forward, with a firm grasp, she introduced herself. “Hi. I’m Carol Fisher, Activities Director.”
“Steve Weaver. Nice to meet you. Care to join me for lunch?” This could be interesting.
“No pretty missus with you?”
“Well, not today anyway.”
Carol lifted an eyebrow.
Steve gallantly offered her his arm, still playing the hero in their western, and headed for the chow line.
“Carol? I’ve been looking all over for you.”
The man who approached was dressed in immaculately pressed jeans and eel skin boots. His wire-rimmed glasses had
begun to slide down his nose and with one practiced motion, he pushed the glasses back into place and ran a careful hand
over his blond hair, cut in the most current style.
“Steve, have you met Bradford Harrison?”
“Nice to meet you.” The two men exchanged greetings and shook hands.
Bradford turned his attention to Carol. “Can I have a minute of your time?” They stepped away from Steve. “Red discovered
one of our horses missing.”
“When?” Carol’s voice was tense.
“This morning. Les, wanted me to update all the staff. The sheriff is getting seriously frustrated. The thief still hasn’t left a
clue."
“Somebody better get a clue” Carol said, "before the entire valley is out of business.“
Steve had remained silent. Carol turned back to him, smiling. “Steve and I were about to have lunch. Thanks for the
information, Bradford. See ya later.”
“Would you like to join us?” Steve asked.
“No thanks, but I’ll see you both later this evening at the barn dance.” Bradford continued down the trail.
Carol sauntered toward the chuck wagon, slipping right back into her Mae West impersonation . “Come on, big boy.”
Steve happily obliged. He’d bet the ranch she was a hand full.
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