People Will Talk (18 page)

"That's not true!"

"I want to show you the bridge, Nora," she
mimicked. "Go ahead, take off your jeans."

His eyes shifted, his expression darkening.
"It's not the way it looks."

"No? So you haven't been after my land all this
time? Haven't been deceiving me about that?"

"I never said I didn't want the Turner
property," he said. "I just didn't talk to you about

it--"

"You just snuck behind my back to make sure
Mrs. Turner won't ever sell to me! This whole mess today! Look at
me!" She gestured toward herself bitterly, the muddy T-shirt
faithfully outlining every curve. "How long do you think it'll take
the Burton family to spread the word about this little fiasco? Nora
Hampton wallowing in the mud with Stoneburg's gift to
womankind."

Bret took a step toward her. He paused, seeming
to struggle with his words. "Nora, none of that is true. I did want
the land, but not if it meant losing you. I love you."

"Bull!"

Somewhat later, Bret turned the Jeep down the
tree-lined street to the small house, pulling into the
driveway.

A movement at the front window of the
neighbor's house across the street left Nora little doubt that
they'd been seen. The old biddy who lived there knew Mrs. Burton
well. She would have been one of first people alerted to Nora's
latest crime. The news was probably all over town by now. Mrs.
Turner would have long since heard the story behind her missed
appointment.

Nora got out of the Jeep without a backwards
glance. She'd given men the benefit of the doubt one too many
times. Walking away was the only thing to do now.

She marched up the walk to the porch,
determined not to scurry, not to give in to shame. Opening the
door, she went in.

Let the town go into a feeding frenzy of
gossip. She couldn't find it in herself to care anymore.

"Nora Hampton! Look at you!" Her mother
appeared in the hallway. "I couldn't believe my ears when Madeline
called. You must be out of your mind, rolling naked in the mud with
Bret!"

Yes, she'd been out of her mind. And for a
while there, it had been heaven.

"Couldn't you at least put your clothes back
on?" Her mother followed her down the hallway.

"Mother!" The word came out forcefully. ''I'm
filthy, I'm tired and I don't want to discuss this subject right
now."

"You may not want to discuss it, young lady,
but--"

Nora went into her bedroom and shut the door,
ignoring her mother's startled gasp. Later, when she could be calm,
she'd sooth her mother's worries. Now she had her own wound to
tend.

Stripping off her muddy clothes in the
adjoining bathroom, she stepped into the shower and turned on the
water. A hundred thoughts beat against her brain as steam filled
the tub enclosure. She loved Bret Maddock. No matter what he'd
done, no matter what a snake he was-she still loved him.

But she couldn't let herself stay here and be
worn down by his presence. Maybe he wouldn't keep pursuing her, but
that was too big a chance to take. She'd have no self-respect if
she let herself be seduced back into his arms after this
betrayal.

The whole town must be laughing at how easily
he'd stolen the Turner property away from her. She knew from living
with Richard that men laughed about things like that.

When the worst of the mud was off, Nora cleaned
out the tub and filled it, pouring in bubble bath like a medicinal
tonic. She sunk into the hot, foamy water, submerging to her
chin.

How long could a person hide in the
bathtub?

Sighing, Nora sunk lower under the bubbles. She
felt too battered by the events of the day to think coherently. She
knew it was past time she stopped trying to ignore the talk. Before
she left for good, she had a few things to say to several of
Stoneburg's prominent citizens. But right now, she needed to get
out of the bathroom.

Sloshing out of the water, she toweled off
briskly and tugged on her robe. Much to her relief, her bedroom was
empty when she opened the door. She'd half expected to see her
mother there, waiting for an explanation.

Dressing carelessly in an oversized shirt and
leggings, Nora began combing out her wet hair. Then, the doorbell
rang.

She frowned, not recognizing the voice in the
hallway when her mother opened the door. Snatches of unidentifiable
conversation drifted through the half-opened bedroom
doorway.

"She's right in here." Sharon Hampton's voice
drew closer. "Nora, you have a visitor," she announced, looking
rattled as she ushered an immaculate Sara Turner into the
bedroom.

Nora stared at the older woman, unable to
believe her eyes.

"Good afternoon," Mrs. Turner said, her smile
polite, her classic suit and pumps both beautiful and
dignified.

Her greeting galvanized Nora forward, breaking
the paralysis that kept her standing in front of the dresser, her
hair brush clutched in her hand. "Mrs. Turner, I'm so sorry for
missing my appointment with you this afternoon. I know it was
terribly rude-"

The older woman waved her words aside. "That's
quite all right. I understand you had a mishap."

Nora swallowed the lump in her throat, not
knowing if she should go into the sordid details of the story. She
glanced around the room, becoming conscious of the awkwardness of
entertaining a visitor in one's bedroom.

"Won't you please sit down?" Nora gestured to a
small armchair by the window.

"Thank you." Mrs. Turner sat down
gracefully.

Despite her years, she maintained a cool,
composed social presence that left Nora conscious of her wet hair
and bare feet.

Nora stared into the woman's face, overcome by
an insane desire to take one more shot at buying the property, to
finish what she'd started. Maybe there was still a chance she could
get the Turner land. Rubbing Bret's face in it would be far more
satisfying than running away.

"Mrs. Turner, about the offer I made on your
homestead--"

Sara Turner crossed her legs and said serenely,
"I'm sorry, my dear, but I'm not really prepared to discuss the
property. There are many things to consider before accepting or
rejecting any offer on that land."

"You're not prepared to talk about it?" Nora
echoed with surprise. "But what about our meeting?"

"Yes, of course." An expression of
self-consciousness flashed briefly across the older woman's face.
"Actually, I've been wishing to talk to you for some time. The
incident today compelled me to come here unannounced.”

"The incident today?" Nora said
hollowly.

"Yes." She paused, fidgeting with the handle of
her purse. "I'm not sure if you know it, but I am not only the
mother of a politician, but the daughter of one as
well."

"Of course," Nora stammered, not sure where the
woman was headed. "Yes, I do know that."

Everyone in town knew about her father, the
illustrious Senator. It was a fact that often came up whenever the
Senator's mayoral grandson came up for reelection.

"Then perhaps you will understand how I might
sympathize with your difficulties lately."

Nora couldn't restrain her shocked, "You
do?"

Mrs. Turner smiled briefly. "Why, yes." She
stared down for a moment, seeming unsure how to continue. "It's
easy for a young woman in the public eye to find herself in the
position of having committed certain indiscretions.”

Sara Turner cleared her throat
quietly.

Sitting on the corner of her bed, Nora grappled
with the image of a much-younger, indiscreet Mrs. Turner. "Yes, of
course,"' she murmured.

"When I was a girl, a number of men paid me
flattering attention." Mrs. Turner smoothed the fabric of her
skirt. "I was usually quite circumspect. My mother held very strict
views. But one man in particular...well, I thought I was in love
with him. He was older, you see, and very charming. I didn't find
out until later that he had a wife in another city."

''I'm sorry," Nora murmured, easily able to
sympathize with the other woman’s betrayal.

Mrs. Turner lifted her chin. ''I'm afraid there
was a scandal, although my father managed to hush up most of it.
Still, there are always people who delight in other's mistakes. I'm
sure you know the kind to whom I refer."

"Yes, I do," Nora replied instantly.

Mrs. Turner smiled a warm, genuine expression
that lit up her eyes. "They aren't worth our time."

"No."

"My story is long in the past. But your
situation has reminded me so much of it." Mrs. Turner leaned
forward, her tone suddenly decisive. "You can't allow yourself to
be bullied any longer by Wilma Worthington and Shirley Burton, you
know. They'll never leave you alone until you make them respect
you."

"How?" Nora asked. "I thought if I went on with
my life and stayed out of trouble-"

She stopped, realizing how that must sound.
With Bret's help, she'd ended up escalating the scandal. “I thought
things would die down," she finished painfully.

Mrs. Turner shook her head, leaned forward, and
put a hand on Nora's where it rested in her lap. "What you must do
now is stand up to them. Use your strong points to command their
respect."

"My strong points?"

"Your riding." She straightened in her chair, a
small triumphant smile playing on her lips. "I remember the
pictures of you in the Wichita Falls paper when you won blue
ribbons at your riding competitions."

"Just pony club events."

"Regardless. Your riding and your
qualifications to teach are the only things that are anybody's
business."

"That's right," Nora agreed, still stunned by
support from such unexpected quarters.

"I don't care if you had affairs with all of
Richie Worthington's bosses. It's your life to run."

"Well, yes," faltered Nora, "but I
didn't-"

"Of course not. But whether you did or didn't
isn't the most important thing," Sara Turner waved her protest
aside. "I've thought about this and I think I have just the
thing."

Nora looked at her in fascination. "You
have?"

"Yes. You need to enter the Association Race
next week."

"What?" That was the last thing Nora had
expected to hear. Sure, she'd considered entering the race, just to
give Bret a run for his money. He needed to be taken down several
notches.

"Yes, my dear." The older woman's face was
eager. ''I'm quite serious. I think it would be very
effective."

"Why?"

"Now don't tell me that you can't give those
old cowboys some competition," Mrs. Turner chided.

"Of course I could," Nora acknowledged slowly.
"What better way to demonstrate your riding ability to a bunch of
horse people than winning their annual race?" she demanded
triumphantly.

"I-I'm not a member of the
Association."

"That's not a problem," Mrs. Turner replied
promptly. ''I'll sponsor you."

"That...that would be wonderful of
you."

"Nonsense." The older woman looked at her
expectantly. "Well, will you do it?"

"Bret's won for the last ten years," Nora
blurted out.

Mrs. Turner was silent for a moment before she
shrugged. "Every race is a new race."

Nora hesitated. The thought of beating him was
irresistible. What if she could win both the race and the land?
She'd steal his local legend status, his title and his damned
landing strip in one sweep. He deserved to be beaten in more than
just the race. How much more despicable could a man be than to make
love to a woman while plotting to steal her dream?

Rage and hurt rose up in Nora. He had to be
punished.

"You know, my dear," Mrs. Turner broke into her
thoughts. "You'll have to work out your private life yourself. I
can't pretend any special knowledge in that arena. Bret Maddock's
always been a handful."

She rose from her seat. "Still, he's not a bad
boy. If you do decide to enter the race, he'll play
fair."

He doesn't play fair! Nora's bruised heart
protested.

"You think it over, my dear," Sara Turner said,
as she turned to go, "and let me know."

Nora stood up slowly, watching her unexpected
benefactress leave. Why not race Chessie against Bret? Winning
would insure that Bret would never want to bed her again, would
most likely never even talk to her. And she could take on the whole
town as well.

''I'll do it," Nora declared decisively. "And
I'm very grateful for your help."

Mrs. Turner Turned hack, clasping Nora's hand
in hers. "That's my girl. I knew you had the courage."

******

Chapter Ten

A tightening line of tension played along
Nora's nerves. This was it, D-day. Soon, she'd walk into the crowd
outside and challenge Bret for the championship.