by Rita Herron
“The insurance was taken care of, right?”
“Yeah,” Brett said with a scowl. “But this will cost us time. I was hoping to start lessons in the spring.”
And time meant money. Not that Brett didn’t have some from his rodeo winnings, but he had invested a good bit into building a home for him and Willow and their son.
“At least we didn’t lose any horses,” Brett said. “I couldn’t stand to see them get hurt or suffer.”
That would have been a huge financial loss, too.
Ray gritted his teeth. “I smelled gasoline, Brett.”
Brett’s gaze turned steely. “You mean, someone intentionally set the fire?”
“We’ll have to let the arson investigator determine that, but it looks that way.”
Brett reached for his phone. “We should call Maddox.”
Ray shook his head. “Wait. He’ll be back day after tomorrow. We can handle this until then.”
Brett winced as the roof to the first barn collapsed. “You’re right. He should enjoy his honeymoon.”
“You said you smelled gas?” the fireman said to Ray. “I called our arson investigator. As soon as the embers cool enough for him to dig around, we’ll do a thorough search.”
The blaze was beginning to die down, although the first building was a total loss. The front of the second building suffered damage, but hopefully the interior and stalls had been saved.
“I should have had an automatic sprinkler system installed,” Brett said glumly.
Ray detected an underlying note of blame in his brother’s voice. “You couldn’t have known this would happen.”
The smoke thickened as the wind picked up. “Yeah, but it did.”
“We’ll discuss installing them in the future.”
Brett gave him an odd look. “I didn’t think you were going to hang around.”
Ray hadn’t planned to. But they still had the reading of the will and the bombshell about their father’s mistress and his son to contend with.
“I’ll be here for a while, at least until things get settled.” Which would probably be longer than he’d first thought.
Another siren wailed, and an official fire department-issued SUV barreled down the road. A sheriff’s car followed. Deputy Whitefeather had probably been notified by his 911 call.
Both vehicles careened to a stop, the deputy climbing out followed by a tall, broad-shouldered man in a uniform.
Introductions were quickly made. The arson investigator’s name was Lieutenant Garret Hawk.
“What happened?” Lieutenant Hawk asked.
“When I got home, I saw smoke and found the barn on fire,” Ray explained. “I called for help, then ran in to rescue the horses. That’s when I smelled gasoline.”
Lieutenant Hawk acknowledged the other firefighters with a flick of his hand. “It looks like you lost one barn and part of another.”
Ray nodded. “Thanks to your men and their quick response, or it could have been so much worse.”
“You think someone set the fire?” Deputy Whitefeather asked.
“Our builders certainly didn’t have gasoline out here,” Brett said. “But I don’t know who would sabotage us this way.”
Ray bit the inside of his cheek. The first person that came to mind was their half brother. If Bobby was ticked off and thought he’d been left out of the inheritance, maybe he wanted revenge.
Then again, if Bobby expected to inherit a share of the ranch, why would he want to damage any part of it? Destroying buildings would only lower the value of the property. And if he was caught, he’d face charges and go to jail.
Lieutenant Hawk moved closer to the edge of the burning embers. Ashes, soot, burned wood and leather covered the ground. He knelt and used a stick to push aside some debris. A cigarette butt lay in the pile.
“Any of you smoke?”
“Not me or Brett,” Ray said.
“How about ranch hands?” Lieutenant Hawk asked.
Ray and Brett and both shrugged. “It’s possible,” Ray said. “But they know better than to smoke around the hay.”
Deputy Whitefeather walked around the edge of the embers then went inside the second barn.
“Did your father have any enemies?” Lieutenant Hawk asked.
Brett shook his head, but Ray didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t ready to divulge the truth about his father’s indiscretion to a stranger, especially when Maddox and Brett were still in the dark.
He would investigate the half brother himself. If he’d tried to hurt them by setting this fire, Ray would make sure he never saw a dime of the McCullen money or any piece of the land.
Chapter Six
Scarlet jerked awake to the sound of the wind whistling through the small house. Startled, she sat up and scanned her bedroom.
Outside a tree branch banged at the window, and she shivered, still shaken by Bobby’s visit. Cool air brushed her skin, causing goose bumps to skate up her arms.
Wondering why the room felt so drafty, she tiptoed to the hall, but she froze at the sight of the open doorway leading to the back deck.
She had locked that door before she’d gone to bed.
Scarlet eased back into the bedroom and retrieved her gun from her nightstand. She checked the safety, then gripped it with clammy palms as she inched to the doorway.
She paused, cocked her head to the side and listened for sounds of an intruder. The wind ruffled the papers from the file on her desk in the corner, scattering them across the floor.
She scanned the small kitchen, but everything looked in place. Everything except the open doorway.
Her house only had the one bedroom and bath, and that bath opened both to the hallway and her bedroom. No one was inside.
The only hiding place would be the coat closet. Nerves on edge, she braced herself with the gun and inched to the closet. Her hand shook as she closed her fingers around the doorknob and twisted it. Holding her breath, she pulled it open, the gun aimed.
Relief flooded her. It was empty.
A noise sounded behind her and she spun around, gun still braced, but the sound was coming from outside.
She hurried to the door and searched the woods behind the house. Dogs barked, and a figure darted through the trees, but it was so dark it was impossible to see who it was.
Had that person been inside?
Shaken, she slammed the door, then knelt to examine the lock, but the lock was intact, not broken.
She locked it again and made a mental note to buy dead bolts, even a second lock for the top of the door.
Still, tension rippled through her. Why had someone broken into her house?
Her confrontation with Bobby taunted her, and she gritted her teeth. Tormenting her with scare tactics fit his sick, twisted style.
How many times when she was a teenager had he hidden in the closet or under the bed to frighten her? Once he’d even snuck into the back of the car and hidden. When she’d gotten in to drive to the store, he’d jumped up and acted as if he was going to choke her.
Shivering at the memory, she clenched the gun to her side, went to the kitchen and made a cup of hot tea. She couldn’t go back to sleep now, not with her heart still racing.
But as she passed through the room, she stooped to pick up the papers scattered on the floor.
It was a work file, one that had landed on her desk just last week. She’d been called to a domestic violence scene and had been forced to pull the two-year-old little girl, Sandy, from her home. The mother was deceased, and the father, Lloyd Pullman, had been entertaining a girlfriend. Both had been drunk and an argument had escalated into a physical altercation.
The neighbors had called to report the screams coming from next door. When she’d arrived aft
er the police, the baby was soiled and crying, the woman bruised with a black eye. The father was in a drunken rage and in cuffs.
When she’d taken custody of the baby, he’d threatened to kill her.
She stacked the papers back in the folder with a frown. Was he out of jail now? If so, had he broken in to frighten her into giving him back his child?
* * *
THE NIGHT DRAGGED on as the firefighters finished work and watched to make sure the wind didn’t reignite the fire. They had started searching the debris for evidence of foul play and had found a gasoline can a few feet from the barn, tossed into a ravine.
“He probably wore gloves, but we’ll still check for prints,” Lieutenant Hawk said. “Hopefully we can pull some DNA from that cigarette butt.”
Ray made a mental note to find out if Bobby Lowman smoked.
“Can you think of anyone who’d want to do this?” Deputy Whitefeather asked Ray and Brett.
Brett raked a hand through his hair. “Not really. Although we might have ticked off the competition. Jebediah Holcutt started up an equine business last year. Breeds quarter horses and trains them.” Brett blew out an exasperated breath. “But this is big ranch country. It can easily support two ranches offering lessons and training.”
Ray considered the possibility. “True, but you’re a celebrity, Brett. Given the choice between lessons from you or Jebediah, who are people going to choose?”
Brett shrugged. His brother might be a celebrity, but he was humble. He’d even talked about setting up a camp for kids with problems, a therapeutic horse camp. His wife, Willow, had actually suggested the idea because her son, Brett’s little boy, had suffered trauma from being kidnapped and had blossomed under Brett’s care and tutelage in the saddle.
“I can check him out for you,” Deputy Whitefeather offered.
Ray and Brett exchanged a questioning look, but Brett gave a clipped nod. “Okay. Maybe we can figure this out before Maddox gets back.”
“Anyone else I should look into?” the deputy asked.
“Not that I know of,” Brett said. “But I haven’t been in town that long. If Holcutt didn’t do this, we’ll talk to Maddox when he returns. He would know best if Dad had any enemies.”
Ray remained silent, still contemplating Scarlet Lovett’s story about their half brother. He would check out Bobby Lowman.
“What about ranch hands?” Deputy Whitefeather asked. “Anyone have a beef with your father?”
“I doubt it,” Brett said. “Dad was always good to his employees.”
The deputy glanced at Ray, but Ray shrugged. “Like Brett said, we haven’t been back in town long.”
“What about that ex-con your father just hired?” the deputy asked. “The one that was in jail for the cattle-rustling operation?”
“Gus wouldn’t do this,” Brett said emphatically. “If anything, he owes the McCullens for clearing his name and getting him released so he could be with his family.”
“All right,” Deputy Whitefeather said. “Let me know when you talk to Maddox or if you think of anyone.”
A bead of sweat rolled down Ray’s forehead and he removed his handkerchief from his pocket to wipe it away. But his fingers connected with the card Arlis Bennett had given him.
“Come to think of it, I ran into a man named Arlis Bennett earlier. He took over Boyle Gates’s ranch and said if we were interested in selling to let him know.”
Brett frowned. “Gates was the man who set up Gus Garcia.”
“Maddox arrested him for his involvement in that cattle-rustling ring,” Deputy Whitefeather added. “Bennett is Gates’s cousin.”
Ray’s pulse hammered. Gates probably wanted revenge.
What if he put Bennett up to sabotaging operations at Horseshoe Creek? Maybe he even thought he could force them to sell?
* * *
SCARLET CONSIDERED CALLING the sheriff, but she had no real proof that anyone had broken in. Nothing had been moved or destroyed. The wind could have blown the file off the table instead of someone looking at it.
But she was certain she’d locked that door.
Unable to sleep, she finished her tea, then reviewed files, working on paperwork until dawn. She checked the locks again before she showered, then dressed and decided to visit The Family Farm. She’d check on Faye and the kids before heading to her office to meet with the couple adopting Corey. Connecting that little boy with a forever home was a reminder of the importance of her job.
She pulled from her drive, mindful of the speed limit since children lived in the neighborhood. Down the block, she spotted a black sedan. When she reached the street where it was parked, it pulled out behind her.
She frowned as the car rode her tail.
Irritated, she accelerated, then maneuvered a turn, hoping it would go the other direction. But it turned, as well. Hands sweating, she made a couple of more turns in an effort to lose the vehicle, but her paranoia increased as it stayed behind her.
She inhaled to calm herself. Bobby didn’t drive a black sedan. What about Lloyd Pullman? She had no idea what kind of vehicle he owned.
Her shoulders knotted with tension. She turned into the gas station, then chastised herself for being paranoid when the car finally sped by.
She sat massaging her temple for a few seconds, gathering her composure, then steered her Jeep back onto the road. Still, she checked behind her and down the street as she made the short drive to The Family Farm.
As she parked, she continued to have the eerie sense someone was watching her.
Damn Bobby for making her paranoid.
She steeled herself, determined not to allow Bobby or Lloyd Pullman to terrorize her.
The scent of coffee and maple syrup greeted her as she entered the group home, and she found Faye and Millie, the cook, in the dining room with the children who’d gathered for breakfast.
Faye looked up and smiled, and Scarlet spoke to the children, pausing to chat with each one for a few minutes.
“I dreamed about riding a pony last night,” Corey told her.
She ruffled his hair. “Well, maybe that dream will come true.” The couple adopting him owned a small farm.
Danny, a fourteen-year-old who’d been bounced from foster home to foster home before becoming part of the family here, scowled into his plate.
“Hey, Danny,” Scarlet said softly. “I heard you aced your algebra test yesterday.”
He shrugged and dug his spoon into his cereal. “Waste of time.”
She ignored his sour attitude. Danny acted tough, but it was an act to cover up the fact that he was hurting.
Faye motioned for her to join her in the kitchen. Scarlet followed and poured herself a cup of coffee.
“Joe McCullen’s son, Ray, stopped by here yesterday,” Faye said.
Scarlet’s pulse jumped. “I’m sure he wanted to know all about me. If I was legitimate.”
Faye wiped her hands on her apron. “He did ask about you, and about Joe. I told him how much Joe loved this place and how he helped build the farm.”
Scarlet gazed out the window at the pastures. Thankfully, the house and land were paid off, but there was very little money to build the stables and add horses like Joe had planned. No money for the garden plot and farm equipment he’d suggested so the kids could grow their own vegetables.
All the more reason she’d stand up for herself if the McCullen brothers challenged the will. She could use whatever amount Joe had left her to help around here.
“Scarlet, is something wrong?” Faye asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I never quite understood why Joe didn’t tell his family about this place. Or about you.”
“I didn’t understand it, either,” Scarlet said. “But I’m sure he had his rea
sons.”
Still, he’d hurt Ray and Bobby.
Faye nodded, although she looked curious. But she didn’t push the subject.
“I have to go, Faye. I’m supposed to meet the Fullers about Corey in an hour.”
Faye’s expression brightened. “Good. That boy needs a real home.”
So did all the kids. But it didn’t always happen.
Scarlet squeezed Faye’s hand. “I know what you mean. But this is a real home, too, Faye. Thanks to you and Millie and Lois, these children have love and family.”
Faye blushed, and Scarlet gave her a hug, then slipped back through the house and outside to her car. For a brief second, down the street, she thought she spotted the same car that she’d feared was following her earlier. But it disappeared around the corner. The kids were laughing and talking as they walked to the school bus stop.
She climbed in her car, chastising herself for being so nervous, then headed to her office. But on the way, she couldn’t shake the sense that she was being followed again. She punched the number for the sheriff’s office in Laramie.
“This is Scarlet Lovett,” she said. “Is Lloyd Pullman still in custody?”
“As a matter of fact, he made bail yesterday,” the deputy told her.
Scarlet inhaled sharply as his threat echoed in her head. Had Pullman broken into her house the night before? Had he been parked down the street from her and followed her this morning?
“Do you know what kind of car he drives?” Scarlet asked.
“No, why?”
The temptation to tell him her concerns nagged at her, but she didn’t want him to think she was irrational. “No reason. I was just curious.”
“Listen, Scarlet, if he bothers you, let me know. Or better yet, call the sheriff in Pistol Whip. He can make it to your house faster than I can.”
“Thanks. I will.”
She hung up, keeping her eyes alert for the sedan again. Although traffic in Pistol Whip was minimal, early morning commuters were making their way to work. She pressed the brakes to turn into her office, but her Wrangler didn’t slow.
Tires squealed, and she swerved then pumped the brakes, but the vehicle sped down the small hill, gaining momentum. A pedestrian crossing the street caught her eye, and she pounded the horn, terrified she was going to hit the woman. The woman screamed and darted to the sidewalk, just as Scarlet jerked the steering wheel to the right.
