He stalked down the hallway, then realized he had nowhere to go. No business he could do. No books he could read.
Adelfa had gone to Saturday evening mass and the rest of them had gone to the show in Dallas, far as he knew. His footsteps rang hollow on the terrazzo flooring of the empty house—echoing exactly what he would become. Alone, hollow. Without purpose.
In the living room, he paused in front of the fireplace and looked up at the indistinct shadow, displayed in a custom, mahogany-framed case, that had been his grandfather’s gun. A sleek 1800s Allen & Wheelock Army revolver, it was worth close to eight grand when last appraised.
Worth more, perhaps, as a way to end a bleak future, if the thing even worked.
Somewhere outside a dog barked, and tires crunched on the caliche gravel. He went to a window and made out the shape of a car down by the main horse barn. Strange, because no one should be here. The hands usually went into town on Saturday nights, and the family had gone to Dallas.
Probably a customer, he realized, the tension relaxing in his shoulders. Owners often dropped in over the weekend to check on the horses they had in training. Potential buyers from across the country knew the ranch well and occasionally stopped in to look over the show prospects or breeding stock.
Unfortunately, most of them arrived ready for endless conversation about their horses and the latest horse show gossip, while some happily settled into exhaustive debates on particular bloodlines, or—worse, if they happened to encounter Clint—their political gripes. Ad nauseam.
He’d never cared to waste that kind of time.
Growling under his breath, he left the house and headed down to the barn. Oddly enough, the car was empty. The barns were dark. And only a dim light shone in the office—just the small lamp that was left on, day and night.
Who would come out here and go roaming at dusk? He focused again on the office window, indignant, and flipped on the aisle lights as he stepped into the barn.
Then he jerked open the office door and hit the light switches with the heel of his hand. “Who’s in here?”
Crouched at the bank of file drawers along the wall, a dark figure in a hooded sweatshirt rose slowly.
Deliberately.
Turned to face him.
Something silver glinted in the faint light—
With a deafening explosion, a deep, burning pain ripped through his chest. Staggering, stunned, he opened his mouth to scream….
And then the room went black.
BY THE TIME KRISTIN dropped Cody off at Nora’s, the sky had darkened to a deep purple and she realized she’d probably missed her chance. Most cowboys headed for the honky-tonks or one of the local, out-of-the-way places where you could find great barbecue or Texas-size steaks at mom-and-pop prices.
Still, she decided at the entrance to the Four Aces, you never knew. This could be the perfect opportunity. There was usually at least one employee around the barns—probably as a security measure—and maybe he’d come out to her truck and greet her. He might even be glad for the company and less hesitant to answer a few casual questions without anyone else around.
She’d seen the hands who worked at the ranch and had met most of them—middle-aged, thickset, friendly guys. None she’d hesitate to encounter alone. She suspected Clint was very particular about hiring.
She continued up the lane. By the main barn she pulled to a stop under one of several overhead security lights, a dozen yards away from a car parked farther in the shadows. One of the hand’s wives, maybe?
The barn’s lights were on, as were the office lights…but no one came out. Her initial resolve melted away.
Maybe they had all gone to town, simple as that, though finding absolutely no one around was unsettling, and she felt an eerie chill. Instead of getting out of her truck, she hit the locks and rolled her windows most of the way up.
Perhaps someone was working a horse on the other side of the arena…or was tending to chores in another part of the barn, and hadn’t heard her arrive. But now coming here seemed like a foolish decision.
Shifting her truck in Reverse, she glanced over her shoulder to start backing up.
At a soft tap on her window, she spun back and found a broad-shouldered figure looming, silhouetted in menacing, featureless black by the security light behind him.
With a scream she jerked away from the window, a hand at her mouth. Her heart hammered wildly.
“Kristin! It’s just me. Ryan.”
Not reassuring news.
Breathless, she stared at him, finally making out his familiar features. “W-what are you doing here?”
“Well, I live here, for starters,” he said. “At least for now.”
“You scared me half to death.”
“I didn’t mean to. I figured you were looking for me.”
“I—I guess I got here too late. E-everyone’s gone…and then you just came out of nowhere.” But it wasn’t just his sudden appearance that shook her. No longer knowing if she could trust him…wondering if he’d intended to scare her, she bit her lip and tried to think of a good excuse for her arrival…and couldn’t think of a single one. “I think I’ll just head home, after all.”
He took a half step back, and she could see his deeply shadowed features. A frown furrowed his brow as he studied her. “I was out putting some miles on a colt and got back a few minutes ago. I thought I heard a strange noise over here.”
“I just pulled in, but I didn’t hear anything.” She hiked a thumb toward the other vehicle, which was now nearly invisible in the deepening shadows. “Maybe they would know.”
He looked over the hood of her truck. “I don’t know who that could be.”
Something about him changed as he scanned the area, then pinned his gaze on that car.
In place of a relaxed cowboy she saw what he must be like in the service, with an air of power and confidence that intimidated as much as any gun.
“You stay here, Kristin. Keep your doors locked. Or better yet, maybe you should go home.”
Going home sounded like a very good idea, but something made her hesitate. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m just checking everything out.” His mouth curved in a faint grin. “Like night patrol.”
Her premonition grew when he stepped into the light of the barn…and shot off the charts when he disappeared inside the office door.
Two minutes passed. Three. Four.
It would have been logical for him to step into the hallway and wave or come out to say goodbye, but ten minutes went by without sight of him.
He could be making a phone call or answering one. He could have settled down to work on some accounts, and won’t welcome you making a big scene.
Yet if something was wrong, who else was here to help?
Saying a silent prayer, she pocketed her cell phone and slipped out of her truck, thankful she’d worn her running shoes instead of her hard-soled boots.
The dark shadows beyond the reach of the security lights seemed to pulse with danger.
Her heart took up a staccato beat and her palms grew damp as she crept toward the side of the building, her senses on high alert. Every breath rasped in her throat. Every step seemed to echo in the building complex as she drew closer. Closer.
She eased into the barn, her hands and knees shaking.
A few more steps…just a few…
An angry voice spiraled out of control from inside the office, then she heard Ryan’s soothing tones.
When she leaned over a few inches to peer into the room, she saw why.
A tall man in a hooded shirt stood in the middle of the room with his back to the door. In one trembling hand he held the top of a large black garbage sack overflowing with manila folders. In the other—
Oh, no—he held a gun.
And Ryan was in there someplace. Defense less.
Fear turned her blood to ice as she held her breath and eased just a millimeter farther, though every instinct screamed at her to run.
Horror replaced her fear when she blinked and focused on Clint lying in a pool of blood in front of the desk. Ryan knelt next to him, pressing a crimson-soaked cloth to his father’s chest.
For just a second, Ryan met and held her eyes, then he almost imperceptibly tilted his head, obviously wanting her to leave.
Clint had been shot. Ryan obviously could see the intruder’s face and could identify him. She didn’t have to guess at Ryan’s chances.
“It’s over,” Ryan said, his voice low and soothing. “I know it was just an accident, right? You heard a noise. Thought there was an intruder. Self-defense, really… I’m sure the sheriff will see that’s all this was. An instinctive reaction. So just put the gun down and take a deep breath. I’ll explain it to him….”
Ryan’s voice followed her as she eased back out of sight and speed dialed 911. Urgently she whispered a few words into the receiver, then scanned her surroundings frantically.
The barn was perfectly neat as always, nothing out of place.
Her terrified gaze settled on the little utility alcove by her shoulder…but it held only a broom, a flat grain shovel and a plastic pan of dog kibble.
Her heart battering against her ribs, she grabbed the pan and the shovel.
Said another silent prayer.
Then threw the pan far down the aisle, sending kibbles bouncing on the cement like buckshot. She flattened herself into the alcove…praying Ryan could move fast.
In the office, someone shouted.
Footsteps shuffled toward the door. She could see the edge of the unknown man’s back and shoulder. She held her breath. Please…please…please…
The man took another step backward. Turning only at the waist, the aim of his gun wavered, as he snapped his gaze down the aisle.
His gun wavered a second time.
She lunged forward with the shovel. Hit the back of his knees with every ounce of her strength.
He screamed, falling forward. The gun spun away across the cement.
And at that instant, Ryan burst out of the office and went down on top of him twisting one of the man’s arms high behind his back. “I’ll take care of this. Please—my father’s bleeding. Help him!”
AMIDST THE MELEE of ambulances and police cars, she caught a glimpse of the intruder—his head still covered, but his hands now cuffed behind his back.
Despite the hood, she could still see the glitter of loathing in his eyes as he glared at her.
Then his hood slipped back and exposed his features…and suddenly it all made sense.
“WE CANNOT THANK YOU ENOUGH,” Lydia said, pressing her fingers to her throat. “You took a terrible risk, but without you…I can’t bear imagining what could have happened.”
Kristin checked Clint’s sutures, examined the surgical wound for any sign of infection, then applied a new dressing. “I have to admit, my knees still shake when I think about it.”
“Leland had no intentions of leaving witnesses,” Clint growled.
Clint had been airlifted to the hospital in San Antonio, where he’d had surgery, but after just two days he’d insisted on coming back to the ranch this morning.
“You’re doing very well, Mr. Gallagher. You’re on powerful antibiotics, which should take care of any infection. But if you start running a fever, chill or have increased pain, make sure you call me right away.” She snapped her medical case shut. “Otherwise, I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon to check your dressing again.”
Lydia followed her into the hall. Her eyes glistened as she took Kristin’s hand. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you. Anything. You must tell me.”
The older woman was even more pale than before, her eyes sunken with weariness. “For starters, you need to go rest. I’ll bet you sat up with him all night long. I’d guess your health is far more fragile than his.”
“Perhaps.” A corner of her mouth lifted as she met and held Kristin’s gaze. “I can tell by your expression that you realize how ill I am. Ironic, isn’t it? He and I spent a lifetime apart, unable to coexist. Now he’s wounded and I’m dying, and we’ve come back together for whatever time we have left.”
The poignancy of those lost years touched Kristin. The parallel between their relationship and hers with Ryan was too obvious to ignore. “At least you’ve got each other now,” she said wistfully. “I can see that you love each other. Some of us will never have what you have.”
“Sometimes you need to fight for what matters most.” Lydia squeezed Kristin’s hand, then released it. “Though some of us learn that lesson far too late.”
“But for some, love isn’t enough. The incompatibilities, different dreams, just lead to heartache.”
“Don’t be so sure.” From the bedroom Clint called out for Lydia. “Wade and Ryan are in the study, dear. I think they want to talk to you before you leave.”
Kristin watched her return to Clint’s bedside, then went down to the study. Wade and Ryan stood at the window, deep in conversation, but both stopped at her approach.
“We’ve done quite a bit of investigation over the past couple days,” Wade said. He motioned her to a chair and then sat across from her, a folder in his hands. “The district attorney is in the process of filing a long list of charges against Leland—including second-degree murder and attempted murder—so you don’t need to worry about him going free.”
“S-so it was Leland who ran my dad off the road?”
Wade nodded. “I did some checking after I tracked down some Havenses who live around here. Apparently, he borrowed his nephew’s car. Didn’t want to use his own in case someone saw him.”
“But wasn’t it damaged?”
“Yep—but he never turned in a claim. Instead, he gave the kid twice what the car was worth and sold it to a used-car dealer down in Galveston.”
She’d thought she would feel a sense of victory if she could prove the circumstances of her father’s death. But now she sat back in her chair, stunned and shaky. “He might never have been caught.”
“Leland helped Clint find and hire the investigators who examined the Four Aces books, but those guys were in Leland’s pocket, from what we can tell.” Wade tipped his head toward Ryan. “Leland also covered his thefts by blaming Oscar’s ‘mismanagement’ and Nate’s embezzlement.”
“I thought Clint and Leland were friends.”
“Clint thought so too, I guess. He defended the guy to the end, but Ryan was suspicious about a lot of things that didn’t add up.”
Incredulous, Kristin shook her head. “So it was Leland, then. Not anyone else.”
“He wasn’t just the ranch lawyer, he was a financial advisor who could oversee and approve contracts or major expenditures while Clint was away. Which was most of the time, given Clint’s political career.” Wade tapped the file. “He’s been a signatory on ranch checks for years, along with Clint and the foreman. Now there are grown sons here to handle things. But when the boys were small, it was a setup Clint needed.”
“Leland has been filtering money for years,” Ryan added. “He also tricked my father into some phony investment shells and several nonexistent offshore investment schemes—the sort of under-the-table deals a guy like my dad would be happy to use if he could avoid taxes. That aura of secrecy just helped Leland succeed.”
“But none of this makes sense. What about my dad?”
Ryan and Wade exchanged glances, then Wade nodded. “I’ll let you two talk. I need to visit with Clint for a bit.”
“I couldn’t figure it out at first, either.” Ryan accepted the file from Wade, then pulled up a chair next to her. “So Wade contacted the state authorities. He got a report back about a murder victim found near the Mexican border a number of years ago. Dental records in Homestead were a match for Oscar Ruiz.”
She stared at him. “But why?”
“We figure Oscar must have caught on to Leland. Maybe he threatened to tell Clint, or the sheriff. After Oscar ‘disappeared,’ Leland probably went through th
e files and covered his own tracks by altering or destroying all the evidence he could find.”
“Which is why Oscar held his job as long as he did. He’d been doing fine until his so-called incompetence was discovered later.” A wave of sadness engulfed her. “I suppose the same thing happened to my dad.”
“Probably.” Ryan pulled a sheet of paper from the folder and handed it to her. “But this time, Leland planned ahead. He set up a scheme to frame your father, to cover his own thefts, and hinted that your dad blew all his money on gambling. Then he made sure Nate could never defend himself.”
“My dad had nothing,” Kristin whispered. “Leland is a lawyer. With his career, he could have had anything he wanted.”
Ryan shook his head. “Wade thinks he just got in too deep over the years. Fancy home, impressive vacations, debts that overwhelmed him. Who knows? Maybe it was simply greed.”
“My father died so Leland could continue enjoying those luxuries.” The unfairness was almost beyond bearing. Leland had been caught, but none of this could bring her father back. Handing the paper to Ryan, she rose wearily to her feet. “Thank you for helping clear my dad’s name.”
“After the criminal trial, you can pursue a civil suit against Leland for wrongful death,” Ryan said. “Given all we know, you should be successful.”
She felt tears burn beneath her eyelids, but willed them away. “Blood money.”
“Security, for Cody’s future and your own. You two won’t have to worry.”
You two won’t have to worry.
Nothing had changed. The future wouldn’t include Ryan—it was easy enough to read between the lines when she looked into his somber eyes.
Ryan had been a part of her dreams for too long to even remember. But his inevitable departure wasn’t far away, and maybe this was the best time to simply say goodbye.
She held out her hand and swallowed hard. “I appreciate all you’ve done, Ryan. I hope we can stay in touch.”
A Home in Hill Country (Harlequin Heartwarming) Page 20
