How could she trust her own judgment when her father had been a notorious philanderer, her mother was a mobster, and her brother was a man without conscience, capable of anything that would get him what he wanted? Coming from such a family, how could she not have darkness inside her—a darkness that had let her deny what she’d known from the minute Darrin and Simone laid out their plan.
Her brother had been lying to her. They weren’t going to blackmail Lila Culhane into signing away her home—something she would never willingly do. They were going to murder her.
Roper was taking a needed lunch break, eating a cheeseburger and watching the junior reining competition from the sparsely filled stands, when his phone rang. His pulse skipped. The caller was Lila.
“We’re here, in the hotel.” She was trying to sound breezy, but Roper could hear the exhaustion in her voice.
“I was hoping you hadn’t come,” he said.
“Why on earth would you say that?” she demanded. “I told you I was coming, and here I am. Gemma just went down the hall for ice, so I have a few minutes alone. What’s wrong?”
“I was hoping to tell you later,” he said. “You don’t need bad news while you’re healing.”
“Stop babying me, Roper. Your bad news is my bad news. Just tell me.”
He sighed. “Since you asked for it, I’ll start with the worst. Chet Barr’s plane crashed on the way here. He’s in the hospital, not expected to survive. Hayden’s gone to Gallup to be with him.”
There was a pause. Roper could hear her breathing before she spoke. “Oh, Roper, words aren’t enough. I met him a few times when Frank was competing. Such a nice man.”
“It’s a given that Hayden won’t be in the Cutting Horse Challenge tonight. He’ll send somebody to pick up his horse and Fire Dance at the end of the week.”
“How is Fire Dance? Will you be able to show him?”
“There’s no way. Something snapped in that horse when the trailer almost rolled, and it hasn’t gotten any better. If anything, it’s gotten worse. Nobody can get near him. I don’t know how they’re going to get him back into a trailer and home without sedation. For that length of time on the road, any drug would be dangerous. But that decision will be up to Hayden.”
“So you’re going with One in a Million?”
“I’ll have to. I was planning to use him in the Shootout and save Fire Dance for the final event. But now, I’ll be skipping the Shootout altogether. I can’t risk him twice. At his age, he’s got to be in prime condition for a chance at that million-dollar prize—or even a respectable showing.”
“You keep focusing on his age,” Lila said. “Maybe it’s time you stopped. I was reading the roster of horses that will be competing. One horse is almost fourteen. Another horse is eleven. He won’t be the only older horse in that arena.”
Passion strengthened her voice. “One in a Million cando this, Roper, but you’ve got to believe in him. I know that stallion. Give him your trust, and he’ll give you his heart.”
“I love you, Boss,” Roper said.
“And I love you. If I didn’t have a chaperone, I’d invite you up and show you how much. But that’ll have to wait. Got to go. I hear Gemma at the door.”
The call ended abruptly. Roper finished his lunch, tossed the wrappers in the trash, and walked back into the barn. Lila was right. One in a Million had never failed him. He owed the great stallion his complete confidence.
The news about Chet Barr’s crash was still sinking in. What rotten luck, going down in his plane on a clear, calm day, with his son in the cutting finals and his pregnant bride-to-be at his side. The tragedy was senseless. But whatever the cause, Chet was a good man, generous and well-respected. He would be missed.
Assuming Chet didn’t survive, his ranch—the house and land, the pedigreed horses, the registered Angus cattle, the airplanes, vehicles, and probably a hefty stock portfolio—would go to Hayden as the only heir. The handsome young rancher would make a fine catch for some lucky woman. Right now, Cheyenne appeared to have the inside track. But he was getting ahead of himself. His sister’s happiness meant the world to Roper. But Cheyenne was only twenty, with a mind of her own. Anything could happen.
A tall stranger in jeans, well-worn boots, and a sweat-streaked denim shirt was standing outside Fire Dance’s stall. “I hope I’m not intruding,” he said “A cowboy at the practice arena told me you had Chet Barr’s stallion. I was there when Hayden heard about his father. Awful news. I just came by to see if there was anything I could do. We haven’t met. I’m Buck Tolson.”
Roper accepted the proffered handshake and introduced himself. The man’s name was familiar, but moments passed before it dawned on Roper that he was talking with a national champion.
“A friend of Hayden’s is taking care of his cutting horse,” Tolson said. “I offered my help, but she seemed to have the situation well in hand.”
“I imagine she does,” Roper said. “That would be my baby sister, Cheyenne.”
“Oh.” Tolson’s gray eyes brightened with interest. “I should’ve guessed she was your sister. She got away before I could learn much about her. But that’s not why I’m here. One of the riders mentioned that this horse had been traumatized. I’ve worked with troubled horses as a trainer, so I was curious.” He shook his head. “I’ve been watching this one. He’s as bad off as any I’ve seen. What does the vet have to say?”
“The vet can’t get near him. Nobody can.”
“He reminds me of a stallion I worked with a few years ago,” Tolson said. “Like this one, he’d been traumatized in an accident. I recommended putting him down, something I rarely do. But he was valuable, and the owner insisted we keep working with him. Then one day …” Tolson exhaled, as if feeling the pain of a memory. “One day that horse killed one of the stable hands—a woman with young children, as if it could’ve been any worse.”
“So you had to euthanize him?”