by Rita Herron
Laughter echoed through the trees, then voices as the group huddled around the campfire. He spotted Kenny sitting beside Willie, and smiled. Kenny didn’t care that the boy was handicapped. In fact, he acted as if he didn’t realize Willie’s limitations, simply accepted him for who he was. Despite what had happened with Rachel, she had done a good job raising her son.
And the past few days Kenny seemed happy and relaxed, a far cry from the little boy who’d clung to his mother and looked terrified when Johnny had told him he had to earn his keep.
Memories bombarded Johnny. His father’s drinking had made him violent. Too often he’d borne the brunt of his temper.
Had Kenny’s father hit him, too?
The thought sent rage through him, and he whirled the horse around and galloped back to the stables. It took him a few minutes to unsaddle the stallion and brush him down, then he strode into the main house, snatched up the phone and punched in the number for the private investigator he’d used when his own troubles had nearly destroyed him. He didn’t want to use the same service the ranch used for simple background checks. This had become too personal.
The P.I. answered on the third ring.
“Leon,” Johnny said without preamble. “I need a favor.”
“What’s going on, Johnny? Somewhere else making up lies about you and trying to extort you?”
“No,” Johnny said quietly. “But it is about a woman.”
“Haven’t you learned, Johnny? Women are always trouble.”
A grin tugged at his mouth, but he remembered the bruises on Rachel’s neck and it quickly faded. “Yeah, and this one has it written all over her.”
A long-suffering sigh escaped Leon. “Hell, you’re not going to listen to me anyway, so just spill it. What’s her name and what does she want from you?”
That was just it. Rachel didn’t want anything from him. Not his money or his help.
Which made him want to help her that much more.
“Her name is Rachel Simmons, and she has a six-year-old son named Kenny.” A frisson of guilt assaulted him for betraying her, but he had to know the truth before he became involved with her.
Dammit. Who was he kidding? Foolish or not, he already was involved
“But I think she gave me a fake name,” Johnny said. “I’m going to fax over a photo of her and the papers she signed when I hired her along with the social security number she put on her application. I want you to find out everything you can about her as soon as possible.”
“Sounds serious,” Leon mumbled.
Johnny chewed the inside of his cheek. He hoped to hell it wasn’t, but he had a bad feeling.
Growing up with a hellion father, breaking horses, working the rodeo circuit and bull riding had taught him one thing—to rely on his gut instincts.
NIGHTMARES OF REX AND the man who’d attacked her in the barn plagued Rachel all night. Each time she jerked awake, she stared into the darkness searching for her ex-husband. Listening. Waiting.
By 2:00 a.m., she’d retrieved her gun and put it under her pillow. By five, she’d given up the battle for sleep, climbed from bed, showered, fed Cleo and the puppies, then hurried to the dining hall to help Ms. Ellen. With the counselors’ assistance, the campers were cooking their own breakfast over the fire, so the group was smaller than normal.
A newspaper lay spread on the table where Ms. Ellen had been reading it. She glanced at the front-page article and staggered with shock at the photograph of the judge who had granted her divorce. Hands shaking, she sank into the chair and skimmed the article.
Police are investigating a double homicide at the home of Judge Walton Hammers and his wife. According to reports, they were held at gunpoint, Mrs. Hammers was tied and bound, then shot at point blank in the head, while her husband was shot in the abdomen and knee and bled out. There are no suspects at the time, but police are investigating the judge’s previous cases. If you have any information regarding these murders, please contact your local police.
Rachel’s head swam. Dear God. Had Rex done this? Killed the judge and his wife because he’d granted her the divorce?
Ms. Ellen bounded in, and Rachel struggled to pull herself together and went to work.
But every time someone entered the room, she tensed and checked to see if it was Rex.
Or Johnny.
She’d ached to have him hold her the night before and chase away her nightmares. An ache she couldn’t assuage.
After cleaning up from breakfast, she hurried toward the pens where Johnny was working with the kids. Kenny waved to her from the opposite side of the fence where the boys watched Johnny leading Willie around on a gelding.
“I’m next, Mommy!” Kenny shouted.
Rachel smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. Since they’d arrived, Kenny had blossomed from a shy, nervous little boy who hadn’t had friends to an outgoing kid with rosy cheeks and friends.
But if Rex had killed that judge and was on their trail, they couldn’t stay.
Johnny led the horse to a standstill, then helped Willie down. “You’re a natural,” Johnny said.
Willie grinned as he jogged back to Kenny. They high-fived, then Willie exited through the gate to stand by the other boys. Kenny hurried to take his turn, bouncing on his heels as Johnny helped him into the saddle.
Emotions crowded Rachel’s throat as Johnny spoke quietly to the horse. His calm but confident manner with the animals transcended to the children. He was a born leader.
She glanced around in search of Rex, but she spotted the reporter and cameraman approaching, and her pulse clamored. The cameraman lifted his camera to tape Kenny who looked like a little cowboy in his boots, jeans and Stetson.
Panic beat a staccato rhythm in Rachel’s chest, and she swallowed hard to keep from shouting at the man not to take her son’s photo. The last thing she needed was for her and Kenny’s pictures to be plastered in the papers offering a road map for Rex to follow.
If she caused a scene, she would only draw suspicion to herself.
Maybe if she asked Johnny, he’d convince them to not print her son’s photo. But what reason could she give him?
She’d have to think of some kind of lie.
Anxiety needled her as Kenny finished his riding lesson, but she tried to hide it as Kenny jumped down. The horse lowered his head into Kenny’s palm and Kenny giggled, then looked up at her with such joy that a tingly warmth spread through her.
Johnny motioned to the boys. “Come on, guys, we’re going to meet Elvis.”
“Who’s Elvis?” Willie asked.
“Our prized bull.” Johnny led the boys from the riding pens toward a barn adjoining the rodeo arena, complete with holding chutes and smaller riding pens. The reporter and cameraman mingled with the boys, and Rachel followed at a distance, determined to avoid the media attention.
Kenny raced ahead and climbed through the fence.
“Wait,” Johnny called. “Let me check the bull’s pen.”
But before he could enter the barn, a bull charged out. Rachel’s heart raced with fear as the huge animal roared toward her son, dust flying from his hoofs, his tail sticking straight out.
Some of the boys shouted at Kenny. “Look out!”
“Elvis is in there!”
Kenny jerked his head up and froze, terror on his face as he spotted the bull. The animal’s head was lowered in attack mode.
“Kenny!” Rachel took off at a dead run.
The bull paused in the middle of the arena several feet from Kenny, bellowed, arched his back and shook his head from side to side, sizing him up as he would a threat.
“Run!” Willie yelled.
“Get out!” another boy cried.
“No, Kenny,” Johnny said in a calm voice. He threw his hand up and motioned for the boys to quiet. “Stay back, guys. And stand very still, Kenny. If you run or scream, he’ll think you’re playing and he’ll chase you.”
Rachel trembled, inching toward the fence, desperate to re
ach her son. But she didn’t want to make matters worse.
Moving slowly, Johnny climbed the fence, speaking in a low, soothing tone as he dropped to the ground. The bull dug his feet into the dirt, throwing it over his back as he lowered his head again, hunched his shoulders and angled his neck to the side toward Kenny.
Terror gripped Rachel. What if the bull attacked before Johnny could reach her son?
Chapter Ten
Johnny’s pulse ticked violently, but the only way to rescue Kenny was to remain calm. He’d been charged by a bull before and nearly lost his leg and his life. He couldn’t let the animal hurt Kenny.
“You’re doing great, Kenny,” Johnny murmured. “Remember what I told you about animals. They attack if they feel threatened, and we’re not going to let Elvis think we’re out to hurt him.”
“He looks mad,” Kenny whispered.
“It’s his nature. He hasn’t been broken like the horses we’ve been riding.” Johnny moved one foot forward slowly, then another, treading lightly, careful not to make any sudden noise. “In the rodeo, riders are timed to see how long they stay on him, so bucking is his job.”
Kenny trembled. “I’m scared.”
“I know, bud, but I’m not going to let him hurt you.” Johnny edged closer, holding up a calming hand toward Kenny. A couple more feet and he could touch the little boy.
The bull pawed at the ground, then bellowed in attack mode.
Johnny’s lungs tightened as he tried to control his own fear. Behind him, the tension was palpable as Rachel and the boys anxiously watched. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the cameraman recording every second.
Dammit. He couldn’t lose Kenny.
And if that bull hurt him, it would be plastered all over the news. Everyone would see him as a failure, and believe the ranch was too dangerous for their kids.
Then the BBL would be doomed.
Another inch, then another. Time seemed to stand still.
“Please save him,” Rachel whispered.
“It’s okay, Mom,” Kenny said in a hushed voice. “Mr. J. knows bulls.”
The boy’s simple trust humbled Johnny.
“No need to attack,” Johnny murmured to the bull as he watched him paw the ground again. The bull cocked his head sideways and stared straight up at Johnny as if in challenge.
Johnny lifted Kenny from the ground. “We’re going to back up slowly,” he murmured. “Just hang on and we’ll be out of the pen in no time.”
Holding Kenny to his side like a rag doll, he crept backward. Behind him, the hiss of collective breaths being held taunted him. When he reached the fence, Rachel met him, and he lifted the boy over the rails into her arms. Rachel hugged Kenny against her, then he hauled himself up just as the bull charged.
By the time he dropped to the ground, the bull had raced across the pen and was bellowing and kicking dirt.
The boys broke into cheers. “Yay!”
“You saved him!”
“Way to go, Mr. J.!”
Johnny shrugged off their accolades, angling his head away from the cameraman who was snapping pictures of the rescue and the angry bull.
Tears sparkled in Rachel’s eyes as she clutched Kenny to her. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.”
Johnny nodded, but now the danger was over and his adrenaline was waning, anger set in. The bull should have been secure in the pen. Safety was of utmost importance when working with animals, especially when children were involved.
How in the hell had he gotten out of his stall and into the arena?
A COLD SWEAT BROKE OUT over Rachel. She was trembling as she clutched Kenny, desperately trying to erase the horrible images that had seared her mind at the sight of the bull attacking.
“Oh, Kenny, I was so scared. Are you okay, honey?”
Kenny nodded against her, then pulled back, the fear evaporating from his eyes. “I was at first, Mom, but I trusted Mr. J.”
She wanted to trust him, too. And he had saved her son’s life.
Johnny met her gaze, the relief in his eyes mixed with other emotions she couldn’t define. Worry? Anger?
Then he jerked his head toward the counselors. “Take the boys over to brush down the horses. I’ll meet you in a few minutes.”
Kenny wiggled free from her, obviously undaunted and ready to trail the group.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay with me?” Rachel asked. “That was quite a scare.”
“Cowboys are tough, Mom.” Kenny puffed out his cheeks. “I have to help Willie and the others.”
Johnny placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You can’t watch him every minute, Rachel.”
Anger heated her blood. “My job is to keep him safe.”
“He is safe,” Johnny said. “But he also needs to be a kid.”
Rachel glared at him. “I hardly think you’re qualified to tell me how to parent, especially in light of what just happened.”
Hurt flashed briefly in his eyes, and once again, Rachel realized she’d gone too far. Johnny had done nothing but be good to her and her son. So why did she keep striking back?
Because she was afraid of trusting him, of falling for him and getting hurt….
“You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry. But I do want what’s best for the boys.”
Rachel noticed the reporter watching them with interest and put some distance between her and Johnny.
She hadn’t meant to make a scene. “I’m sorry, Johnny. I…didn’t mean to be harsh. I…I was just upset.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He lowered his voice. “I need to examine that pen. We can’t afford another slip like that.”
He didn’t need to finish the sentence. His silent message echoed in her head—a slip like that could get someone killed.
Remembering the terror she’d felt a few moments before, she watched him go.
“Ms. Simmons?” June made a beeline for her. “That is your name, right?”
Rachel tensed. She wanted to escape, but avoiding the woman would only raise suspicion. “Yes.”
“That was your son, Kenny, right? The little boy who almost got gored by the bull?”
Her choice of words made Rachel’s heart pound anew. “Yes, he’s my son. But I’d appreciate it if you’d leave his picture out of your story.”
June narrowed her eyes. “Why? I’m sure Kenny would like seeing his face on TV.”
Rachel struggled for an answer. “He doesn’t need a reminder of the scary incident on screen. Maybe you should just focus on Johnny and the fact that he was a hero.”
“We do intend to show that he was, but your son—”
“Would be embarrassed in front of his friends.” June frowned, but Rachel continued. “Besides, the investors at the BBL need publicity to build the camp’s reputation.” The wind tossed a strand of hair loose from her ponytail and she tucked it back. “If you show a child in danger, it might give the ranch a bad reputation.”
June raised an eyebrow. “But if safety standards aren’t up to par, shouldn’t parents and professionals working with these groups be informed?”
Gravel crunched behind them and Johnny suddenly appeared. “I can assure you that this was an isolated event,” Johnny said. “And I will personally see to it that safety precautions are rechecked.” He gave Rachel a curious look, and she wondered if he’d overheard the first part of her conversation with June. “In fact, I’m going to have a powwow with the staff and campers and address safety precautions before dinner.”
“What about your neighbor’s concerns?”
Johnny narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“Come on, Mr. Long,” June said. “Rich Copeland has been very vocal in his feelings about the set-up here. He spoke to me personally just yesterday.” She paused to take a breath. “Don’t you think he has a right to be worried about the possibility of troubled boys or one of your employees endangering him or his property?”
“He’s n
ot in danger,” Johnny said curtly. “We screen our staff, and our counselors are responsible for supervising the campers at all times.”
“Then how did that bull get out?”
“I don’t know,” Johnny said in a clipped tone. “But I intend to find out.”
June hesitated, then looked at Robbie. “Okay, that’s a wrap.”
Robbie began packing up his equipment, and June and Robbie headed toward their SUV.
“Thank you for defending the ranch,” Johnny said after the press had left. “But why don’t you want Kenny’s picture in the paper, Rachel?”
Rachel swallowed hard. “Like I told June, he might be embarrassed.”
Disbelief tinged his eyes. “Right.” His clipped tone sounded angry.
“How did the bull get loose?” Rachel asked.
Johnny leaned close so as not to be overheard. “One of the boards in the pen was sawed through.” He hesitated. “That neighbor June mentioned, the one who opposed our ranch, my guess is he hired someone to sabotage us in front of the press.”
“Why didn’t you tell her that?”
“If I incriminated Copeland without evidence, the jerk would probably sue me and Brody and shut down our operation, which would play right into his hands.”
Rachel clenched her hands together. That sounded feasible.
But she still couldn’t help but wonder about her ex. Rex had enjoyed tormenting her.
Would Rex sabotage the ranch to the point of endangering his own son just to scare her?
JOHNNY STRODE AWAY, irritated that Rachel wouldn’t confide in him and worried about the upcoming rodeo.
If Copeland had hired someone to mess with them, he’d gone too far.
He sent a text to the counselors and ranch foremen to have everyone convene for a meeting before dinner.
Then he climbed in his truck, phoned Brody and filled him in.
“Dammit,” Brody muttered. “I don’t like this. Maybe we should postpone the rodeo?”
“No, then Copeland wins and the boys lose out,” Johnny said.
