Aspen Gold

109 Pages·1991·0.35 MB·English

by  Janet Dailey

"However, if you'll look over some of the proposed development schemes, I
think you will see that the ridge area can be much more valuable to you if it's
used for an exclusive subdivision, similar in scope. to Starwood."
"Possibly," Rob Hoeugh conceded. "But why would anyone want to buy a
multimillion-dollar second home in a winter resort that can't offer world-class
ski trails? Without that, you have nothing to attract them to come in the first
place."
"Fortunately that can be corrected by convincing the neighboring rancher to sell
me that ridge,"
Lassiter inserted. "It can't be of much use to him anyway."
"Convincing him of that will be difficult, J.d."
She tried to keep the grimness out of her voice without much success. "I can tell
you right now he won't sell."
"That's your problem."
"You don't understand. Bannon owns it. I have a better chance of moving that
mountain than I do persuading him to sell that ridge."
"Bannon," Lassiter repeated thoughtfully. "He will be a hard nut to crack."
"To put it mildly." She could see the sale slipping away. Her plans. Her dreams.
She vibrated with resentment, with anger.
"Tell you what, Sondra. I want this property. I want this project. You talk
Bannon into selling off that ridge and I'll make it worth your while. Not only will
I give your agency a five-year exclusive contract to sell the various
condominium, residential, and commercial sites, but I'll also give you an
ownership interest in the whole development. Say
--seven percent?"
A small part of her leapt at the offer that would be a realization of so many of
her dreams. Yet she knew, too well, what an immovable object she faced. "That's
her dreams. Yet she knew, too well, what an immovable object she faced. "That's
a very generous incentive, J.d."

"It was meant to be."
She sensed the challenge in his voice and in his look. But it was the faintly
superior gleam in his eyes that goaded her.
"I accept your offer." Sondra extended a hand to shake on it.
He gripped it, returning the firm pressure of her fingers. "I have every
confidence in your persuasive abilities, Sondra. We both know there are ways to
convince someone it's in their best interests to sell."
"True." But how? How could she convince Bannon? How could she reach him?
There had to be a way. But what was it?
The same questions still raced through her mind two hours later when she drove
into the ranch yard at Stone Creek. She stopped in front of the massive long
ranch house, staring at its solidness and thinking bitterly of Bannon, his deep
affinity for the land, his implacable will, his quiet strength and blind loyalty.
Qualities she'd always admired in him. Qualities that were now her biggest
obstacle.
She stepped out of the heated car into the crispening air, her glance running
automatically to the rustic log porch, shadowed by the gathering dusk.
The lowing of cattle and the soft whicker of a horse drifted from the outbuildings
and pens, background noises to be ignored as she started for the steps, only to
stop when she heard her name shouted.
Turning, she saw a small, lumpy figure in a boy's heavy jacket and clumsy
rubber boots standing in front of the barn. Laura.
The corners of her mouth curved upward in the smallest of smiles. If Bannon
had any vulnerable point, it was his daughter. With eyes darkly gleaming,
Sondra raised her hand, returning Laura's wave, and set off to meet her.
With the penned cattle fed, Bannon climbed the pole fence and vaulted lightly to
the ground on the other side, feeling the stretch of muscles in his back, arms, and
the ground on the other side, feeling the stretch of muscles in his back, arms, and
shoulders, the stretch that came from being used. He headed for the barn to see if
Laura had finished graining the horses yet. Halfway there, he spotted her
standing in the middle of the yard, talking to Sondra. He altered his course to
join them.
"Did you get the horses fed?" He dragged off his heavy leather work gloves and
rumpled the top of Laura's hair in playful affection, then sent a smile at Sondra,
acknowledging her presence.
"Yeah." Laura ducked out from beneath his hand.
"Aunt Sondra's been telling me about all the decorations and music and games
she's going to have at her Halloween party next week. Her costume's going to be
really neat, too. She wanted to know what yours is. What kind of costume are
you going to wear, Dad?"
"It's a surprise." He smiled, then lifted an amused glance to Sondra, catching the
watchful stillness of her gaze on him before she tipped her head toward Laura.
"As soon as you find out what he's wearing, you can tell me."
"Okay." Laura grinned with ready conspiracy, then sighed wistfully. "It's going
to be so much fun. I wish I was going. I'll be glad when I'm finally grown up and
I can go to parties."
"You'll grow up soon enough." Bannon gave her a little push toward the house.
"Go wash up and help Sadie get supper on the table."
She swung around, hands on hips. "How come I get all the grown-up work and
none of the grown-up fun? It's not fair."
"You'll have fun at Buffy's party."
"It's not the same."
"Then stay home with your granddad."
Laura whirled around, flinging her arms in the air. "Fathers," she muttered in
disgust and stalked off toward the house.
"Kids," he murmured to Sondra, more amused by Laura's protest than anything
"Kids," he murmured to Sondra, more amused by Laura's protest than anything
else.
But Sondra didn't respond in kind; instead she gazed thoughtfully after Laura.
"Remember how Diana loved parties and fun, bright lights and laughter. Laura's
starting to sound just like her."
"All kids go through that," he said, no longer amused as he struck out for the
house, then shortened his brisk stride so Sondra could keep pace.
"What brings you out this way?"
"Business, I'm afraid."
"Afraid?" He shot her a side-glance, curious at her choice of words.
"Yes." Her eyes measured him briefly.
"You aren't going to like this."
"What?"
"I have a client who wants me to find out if you're willing to sell that ridge area
that adjoins Silverwood."
"I'm not."
"You haven't even heard his offer, Bannon,"
she reproved mildly.
"It doesn't matter. It isn't for sale at any price."
His tone was flat and final.
"I told him you'd say that."
"Good. Then we can consider the subject closed."
Covertly she studied the sharp angles of his profile, so unyielding and hard. "I
wish you'd think about the offer, Bannon."
wish you'd think about the offer, Bannon."
"There's nothing to think about." The curtness was expected.
"There's Laura."
He stopped and came around, cutting a high shape against the violet eddies of
twilight.
"What does Laura have to do with this?"
"She's growing up, Bannon. She's already worrying about clothes and fixing her
hair. That's just the beginning. It won't be long before she'll want her own car to
drive back and forth to school.
There'll be boys and prom dresses and college
..." Sondra paused deliberately. "All expensive, Bannon."
"I'll manage."

"Maybe." She read the telltale signs in his expression that warned of quiet anger
behind the terseness--the tightness at the edges of his mouth, the way his eyes
showed darkness below the straight black line of his brows. "But wouldn't it be a
lot better if you didn't have to manage?
If you already had the money tucked away? How much land would that ridge
area encompass, Bannon?
One hundred acres? Two hundred? What's two hundred acres when you have
four thousand? What good is it to you? You can't graze cattle on it, and you don't
run sheep. What could be the harm in selling that one chunk?"
"One chunk. That's the way the ranchers down-valley started, by selling their
land off one chunk at a time. No thanks."
Just for an instant, impatience broke through.
"You could practically name your own price, Bannon. One million. Two. Think
what you could do with that much money. And I don't just mean for Laura. Look
at the improvements you could make in the rest of the ranch--the new barns,
at the improvements you could make in the rest of the ranch--the new barns,
better breeding stock. You could finally afford to fix up that drafty old house. Or
better yet, tear it down and build a new one."
"With a swimming pool and a tennis court?" His challenge was cool and hard.
Sondra realized she'd pushed too much. She waited a beat, then said quietly,
"Laura would like that. I know you don't want to hear that, but it's the truth." She
went on, without giving him a chance to respond. "Think about the offer,
Bannon.
That's all I'm saying. I know how much this land means to you. I admire that.
But--be realistic.
What will happen to the ranch when you're gone? Do you think Laura will keep
it? Do you think she'll be able to afford to keep it? Isn't it more likely she'll sell
it--just as Kit Masters is selling her father's ranch?"
Her words had unsettled him. For now that was enough. With a soft "Good
night," she kissed him and left, eyes gleaming.

Giant jack-o'-lanterns carved in gap-toothed grins and grotesque smiles lined the
driveway and sidewalks of the house on Red Mountain, sharing the paths with
black cats peering out of shocks of cornstalks and scarecrows perched on bales
of straw. Holographic ghosts haunted the lawn and shrubbery, materializing and
dematerializing at preset intervals.
Near the pool pavilion, glow-in-the-dark skeletons danced to the rhythm of the
night wind while a five-piece band pounded out a calypso beat by torchlight and
a blonde in a Cat-Woman suit arched low to make it under a limbo pole held by
a vampire and a cowboy in wool chaps and a ten-gallon hat.
On the sundeck, ringed like the pool area with radiant heaters to ward off the
cool temperatures, a motley group of witches and warlocks, caped crusaders and
fairy princesses, buckskin-garbed Indians and Cleopatras gathered around a
raised wooden barrel filled with water, a layer of shiny red apples floating on its
surface. Kit bent low over the tub, her long blond hair swept atop her head in a
pompadour style. She ignored the advice hooted at her from all sides as she tried
pompadour style. She ignored the advice hooted at her from all sides as she tried
to sink her teeth into the slick skin of an elusive apple and wound up with a
mouthful of water instead.
"It's cold," she protested on a laugh and wiped the icy droplets from her nose
before trying again.
"No fair using your hands." John looked on, garbed in the black suit, ruffled
shirt, and brocade vest of a riverboat gambler, complete with a diamond stickpin
in his silk cravat and a wide-brimmed, flat-crowned hat.
"Show them how it's done, Kit." Paula clapped in encouragement, gypsy
bracelets jangling on her arms, large gold hoops swaying from her lobes.

Bannon watched from a distance, a thumb hooked through the belt loop of his
well-worn Levi's and a hip leaning against the deck rail. A gap in the crowd
afforded him a clear view as Kit primly folded her hands behind a waist that
looked wasp slim. Again she took an open-mouthed aim on an apple. Admiration
and something more tugged at him as he watched her abandon herself to this
child's game of bobbing for apples--without seeming less of a woman.
Scarlet silk rippled in his side vision, the splash of brilliant color drawing his
glance.
Sondra stood in front of the glass doors to the living room, a pillar of red flame
in her long cheongsam gown, her platinum hair pulled back in a sleek coil at the
nape, her attention focused on the apple barrel.
A cheer went up. Bannon looked back as Kit straightened, water dripping from
her chin and a red apple clamped firmly between her teeth. She plucked the
apple from her mouth and held it triumphantly aloft, wiping the water from her
chin with her other hand.
"Who's next?" she challenged.
A banker in a Robin Hood suit stepped forward to more applause, doffing his
peaked hat in a gallant flourish as Kit spun over to John's side and finished
taking the bite out of her apple.
"Mmmm, it's delicious," she said between crunches and swiped at the juice that
"Mmmm, it's delicious," she said between crunches and swiped at the juice that
tried to dribble from the corner of her mouth. "Have a bite," she urged, offering
it up to him.
"What is this? Eve tempting Adam with the apple of knowledge?" He drew back
in mock wariness.
"I didn't taste any knowledge, only cold, crisp and juicy," she replied, her eyes
alight with humor. "Are you sure you don't want to try it?"
His gaze went to the shiny moistness of her lips.
"Maybe I will after all."
He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer as he tipped his head
and kissed her, tasting all the apple sweetness on her mouth, lips, and tongue to
the whistles and hoots of approval from the onlooking guests.
But not Bannon. Sondra saw the leap of muscle along his jaw a second before he
wheeled away and walked into the house, his mouth pressed in a narrow line, his
spurs making an angry jangle with each stride. Her glance went back to Kit and
John Travis as Kit pushed him back, breaking the contact, a high color in her
cheeks. Whether from the cool air, embarrassment, or pleasure, Sondra couldn't
tell. Nor did she care.
Bannon's reaction was another matter. She hadn't liked it. She hadn't liked it at
all.
She followed him into the living room strung with gossamer-fine cobwebs and
lit by an array of candelabras. In a shadowed corner, a pseudo-seance was being
held, visited by a ribald spirit, judging by the hoots of laughter coming from the
participants. Sondra paid scant attention to it or to the costumed guests who
spoke to her as she continued straight to the sunken bar where Bannon had
posted himself.
He didn't hear her come up until she spoke, the sound of her voice drawing him
half around. "That little scene upset you. You don't hide it well, Bannon."
He pushed the pilsner glass back to the bartender and picked up the bottle of
Coors, not answering.
"It's common knowledge they've been having an affair. Surely you heard that--or
did you choose not to believe it?" she guessed, her eyes narrowing as he took a
swig of beer. "John Travis always romances his leading ladies, Bannon. How do
you think they get to be his leading ladies?"
His hand tightened around the bottle's slick sides, his gaze fixed on it. "Sondra,"
he began in a grating voice.
"You don't like the implications of that, do you?"

she said, suddenly impatient. "Do you think men are the only ones who make
bargains and compromises to get to the top? Women aren't any different. She
spent nine years in Hollywood, working in soaps and bad horror movies. John
Travis gave her a chance to do something more and she took it." She paused an
instant. "You live too much in the past, Bannon. It's gone. Let it go."
Her voice choking in anger on the last, she swung away and walked off before
she said Diana's name. She brushed past the joker and headed blindly toward the
dining room and its lavish buffet, but her way was blocked by a harlequin
chatting with a rhinestone-studded cowgirl and a pirate.
As Sondra walked around a tall pedestal table bearing a giant jack-o'-lantern, she
inadvertently triggered a motion sensor. A sudden, wild cackle filled the room as
a witch on a broom swooped from its box mounted high in the room's cathedral
ceiling.
Sondra jumped at the sound of the insanely shrill laughter, straight into a
gossamer curtain of draping webs. She batted at it wildly, then curled her fingers
into it and yanked it from its hangings. She stood there for an instant, breathing
hard, her head pounding, the edges of her vision blurring as she looked at the
silken cloth in her hand.
She darted a quick look around, but no one had seen. No one had noticed. Their
heads were all tipped up to watch the flying witch complete her circle of the
room and return to her box high in the darkly shadowed ceiling. She wadded the
webbing into a ball and tucked it in a marble planter, then paused and glanced
back at the sunken bar. Bannon wasn't there.
He couldn't have left--not this early. All her muscles tightened, a rage rushing