Loyal eyed him consideringly, then gave one abbreviated nod.
"Reckon I'll make sure my rifle's cleaned and loaded," he said.
"I'd appreciate it."
"Miss Roanna doesn't know, does she?"
"No one does except for me, Sheriff Beshears, and Booley Watts. And now you. It's hard to catch someone if they're looking for the trap."
"Well, I hope this varmint gets caught real soon, because I'm not going to rest easy as long as I know that damn siren can go off at any time and make every horse here go wild."
The house was still in an uproar when Webb and Roanna returned to it, with Corliss now sitting on the stairs weeping hysterically and begging Lucinda not to let Webb throw her out. Not even her own mother was taking her side this time; drunkenness was bad enough, but to spit at her brother was totally unacceptable.
Brock was nowhere in sight, probably having removed himself from the temptation to do physical damage to his sister.
To Corliss's sobbing entreaties, Lucinda merely gave her a cold look.
"You're right, Corliss. Despite my own foot in the grave, I am still the owner of this house. And as the owner, I give Webb full authority to act on my behalf, no questions asked."
"No, no," Corliss moaned.
"I can't leave, you don't understand-"I understand that you're leaving," Lucinda replied, not bending an inch.
"You're disgusting. I suggest you go to your room now, before Webb's threat to make you leave in the morning begins to sound even more delightful than it already does."
"Mama!" Corliss turned to Lanette, a pleading expression on her tear-blotched face.
"Tell her to let me stay!"
"I'm very disappointed in you," Lanette said softly and stepped past her daughter on her way upstairs.
Greg leaned down and hauled Corliss to her feet. "Upstairs," he said sternly, turning her around and bodily forcing her upward. They all watched until the pair reached the top of the stairs and turned toward Corliss's suite. They could hear her sobbing until a door closed firmly behind her.
Lucinda sagged.
"The ungrateful little wretch," she muttered. Her skin tone was even more waxy than before.
"Are the horses all right?" she asked Roanna.
"None of them were injured, and they're quiet now."
"Good." Lucinda put a trembling hand to her eyes, then took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders once more.
"Webb, could I talk to you, please? We need to go over some details."
"Of course." He put a supporting hand under her arm to steady her as they walked to the study. He glanced over his shoulder at Roanna, and their eyes met. His were steady and warm with promise.
"Go finish your supper," he said.
When he and Lucinda were alone in the study, she dropped heavily onto the couch. She was breathing hard and perspiring.
"The doctor said that my heart's giving out, too, damn it," she muttered.
"There, I've used a cuss word." She peeped up at Webb to see his reaction.
He couldn't help grinning at her.
"You've used them before, Lucinda. I've heard you cuss that roan mare you used to ride until it was a wonder her ears didn't singe and drop off."
"She was a bitch, wasn't she?" The words were fondly uttered. As hardheaded as the mare had been, Lucinda had always gotten the best of her. Until just a few years before, Lucinda had been strong enough to handle almost any horse she straddled.
"Now, what details do you want to discuss?"
"My will," she said baldly.
"I'm having the lawyer in tomorrow. I'd better get that chore taken care of, because it's beginning to look like my time's a bit shorter than I expected."
Webb sat down beside her and took her frail, palsied hand in his. She was too shrewd and mentally tough for him to even consider trying to comfort her with platitudes, but damn it, he hated to let her go.
"I love you," he said. "I was damn mad at you for not defending me after Jessie was killed. It hurt like hell that you thought I could have done it. I still hold a grudge about that, but I love you anyway."
Tears swam briefly in her eyes, then she blinked them away.
"Of course you hold a grudge. I never thought you'd totally forgive me, God knows I don't deserve that consideration. But I love you, too, Webb. I always knew you were the best choice for Davencourt."
"Leave it to Roanna," he said. His own words took him by surprise. He'd always thought of Davencourt as his, always expected to have it. He'd worked hard for it. But as soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew they were right. Davencourt should be Roanna's. Despite what Lucinda thought, despite even what Roanna. thought, she was more than capable of handling it.
Roanna was tougher and smarter than any of them knew, even including herself. Webb was only now beginning to understand the strength of her character. For years everyone had thought of her as fragile, irreparably damaged emotionally by the trauma of Jessie's death, but instead Roanna had been protecting herself, and enduring. It took a special kind of strength to endure, to accept what couldn't be changed and simply hunker down and wait it out. More and more lately Roanna was coming out of her shell, showing her strength, standing up for herself with a quiet maturity that didn't attract much attention, but was there.
Startled, Lucinda blinked several times.
"Roanna? Don't you think I've talked this over with her? She doesn't want it."
"She doesn't want to spend her life reading financial statements and watching stock reports," he corrected.
"But she loves Davencourt. Give it to her."