Starting now, he had the rest of the week to work with them and get them ready. If he failed, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying.
After silencing his phone, to avoid any startling sounds, he focused his full attention on the horses. Both stallions had nibbled at their oats. But they were chuffing, snorting, and stamping their hooves. When Roper reached out to Fire Dance over the gate, the wild-eyed sorrel laid back his ears and thrust his head forward, baring his teeth in a clear threat to bite.
One in a Million was more approachable, still rolling his eyes, snorting, and tossing his head, but no longer trying to kick. Roper took a calming breath. Then, whistling a familiar tune, he took a brush and a clean towel, stepped into the stall, and closed the gate behind him. It was a risky move. The powerful stallion could easily kill him. But One in a Million had never known anything from his trainers but trust and gentleness. He snorted and quivered but didn’t strike out.
Roper extended the brush and towel, letting the horse sniff them. The big roan usually enjoyed being groomed. But this time his head jerked upward. He backed away, his rump crashing into the back of the stall.
Roper stood his ground, speaking softly. “It’s all right, big boy. Nobody’s going to hurt you. I know you had a big scare, but you’ll be fine now.”
As he eased closer, Roper began to sing, his voice low and calming. The song was one that Frank used to sing as he brushed the stallion’s glossy roan coat.
“As I walked out in the streets of Laredo … As I walked out in Laredo one day …”
One in a Million’s ears pricked forward with sudden interest. Continuing to sing, Roper moved the brush lightlyover the stallion’s withers and down his shoulder. He heard the release of breath as the powerful body began to relax.
Roper kept the brush moving. It was a start. But with Fire Dance still wild with terror in the next stall, he had a long way to go. With luck, One in a Million might be ready to show. But unless he could ride Fire Dance into the arena, Chet Barr would be one angry owner.
Sam was crossing the hotel lobby, headed for the barn to speak with Roper, when he recognized the young woman coming out of the elevator. Petite, with stunning eyes and a cloud of dark hair, it could only be Cheyenne McKenna.
This morning she looked shower fresh, her hair flowing in damp waves. She was dressed in a blue denim shirt and fresh jeans. Back in Texas, he’d interviewed her just once. Mostly, he’d asked about Roper’s relationship with his former boss. She’d had little to say, as she was spending most of her time on the rodeo circuit. But someone in her family—maybe it was one of her brothers—had mentioned that Frank had offered to train her in reining, and she’d turned him down. Maybe there was more to the story than what he’d heard.
“Excuse me, Miss McKenna.” Sam was close enough to be heard. “Do you have a few minutes? I have some questions for you.”
She turned, the half smile on her face vanishing. “I’ve already told you what I know, Agent,” she said. “Besides, I’m on my way to meet someone.”
“This won’t take long,” Sam said. “Come on, I’ll buy you some coffee. By the time you drink it, we’ll be finished.”
She shrugged. “I really can’t refuse the FBI, can I? Fine, don’t bother with the coffee. Just get it over with.”
He led her to a nearby waiting area furnished with severalupholstered settees. Sitting, she faced him, a guarded expression on her stunning face. According to the tabloids, she’d turned down modeling and movie offers. Sam could believe it.
“I’m trying to learn more about Frank Culhane,” Sam said. “I understand you knew him.”
Her only reaction was a subtle widening of her eyes. “I did know him,” she said. “But I had nothing to do with his death, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“No. I already know you were away when he was killed. But I understand you spent some time with him. He offered to teach you reining.”
“Yes, he did. I said no. Why are you asking?”
“I’m just trying to gain some insights into Frank’s personality,” Sam said. “Can you tell me why you turned him down?”
“Yes.” Her voice was steady, but her hands clenched and unclenched in her lap. “I was only eighteen, but I could tell that I was dealing with a control freak. He wanted to take me under his wing and take over my life.”
“What did he do when you refused his offer?”
“What could he do? I left. I never spoke to him again.”
“What about your family? Were they involved in your decision?”
“No. Roper wasn’t working for Frank then. He was still in Colorado selling our old ranch. And my parents had never liked the Culhanes. They treated our family like trash, always looking down their noses at us. I didn’t need anybody’s advice. The decision was all mine.”
“How did you feel when you heard that Frank had been murdered?”
A shocked expression flashed across her face and vanished. She was under control once more. “I was surprised, of course,” she said. “But Frank was no friend of mine. To tell you the truth, I can’t say I felt anything at all.”
Abruptly, she rose to her feet. “I believe I’ve answered enough questions, Agent. Unless you have something of vital importance to ask me, I’ll excuse myself and be on my way.”
Sam stood. “Thank you for your time, Miss McKenna. If I have any more questions, I’ll be in touch.”