Roper stood beside the great bay roan stallion, speaking softly, as if talking to himself. Still in his stall, One in a Million was groomed to perfection—his coat brushed to a metallic glow, his mane braided, his hooves polished, and his legs freshly wrapped with bright turquoise tape. Under his familiar saddle, which had been oiled and buffed, he was wearing a colorful new saddle pad, handwoven of fine Mexican wool.
Roper was all in black—western-style shirt, black jeans, and a black Resistol hat. The color was meant to focus attention on the horse and away from the rider.
As he waited for the opening ceremony, Roper could feel the adrenalin surging in his blood. The stallion seemed to feel it, too. He was tense and alert, restless with energy.
Both horse and man were ready to go. But there would be some time to wait. Roper had drawn the number fifteen spot out of sixteen riders. He would walk into the arena with the others for the opening ceremony. After that, he would remain behind the scenes, watching the Jumbotron or closed-circuit TV, and tracking each score until his turn came.
The Race to the Slide was finished, the winner celebrated with a buckle and an oversize duplicate check. Now it was time for the big show, a spectacle of live music, lights, and patriotic displays, designed to whip the crowd into a state of excitement for the competition ahead.
Roper stood in line with the other riders, waiting while a pretty girl on a galloping horse carried the flag around the arena, followed by a big-name country star singing the national anthem.
By now, Roper knew most of the riders. The leading contender was the biggest money winner in the sport. He’d already won the Shootout and was on target to win the one prize that had always eluded him—the Run for a Million. His son, a gifted young horseman barely out of his teens, was also competing, as was the son of another powerful breeding and reining dynasty, as well as the rider who’d won the prize twice in the past two years. There were two women in the mix and a couple of international champions. And then there were a few newcomers like Roper, unknowns who’d made it here on hope, dreams, and luck.
In Roper’s case, that luck had included a tragic death. It was Frank Culhane who’d first won a place in the contest. That thought almost made Roper feel like an imposter. But Frank’s horse was here. One in a Million had won Frank’s place at the Cactus Classic last March. And he’d won the same place for Roper at the elimination derby last month. The big roan had earned every right to be here.
Roper had believed he needed a younger horse to compete. That was the reason he’d borrowed Fire Dance from Chet Barr and kept One in a Million as backup. But now he realized how wrong he’d been. Fire Dance’s loss was a tragic twist of fate. But One in a Million had proven himself. He was ready. This was his night.
The arena was dark now, heightening the drama of music, lights, and fire as a prelude to the introduction of the riders. Fifteenth in line, Roper walked out of the gate and into the spotlight.
He was conscious of the eyes that were fixed on him and the hopes that rode with him. Lila, as an owner, sat in the VIP row with her daughter. His own family sat a few rows back. Cheyenne, the baby sister who’d been with him all the way, would be cheering him on. Rachel, his mother, would be sitting with her spine rigid, her eyes looking straight ahead, the way she sat in church. She was out of her element but determined to share her son’s triumph and take credit for raising him by the Good Book. Stetson was just having a good time, probably thinking ahead to his next big rodeo. The two younger boys hadn’t even bothered to come. It was as if the family was already breaking up and drifting apart.
And somewhere, out of sight, Agent Sam Rafferty would be watching and planning his next move.
But Roper couldn’t think of that now. If he was about to be handcuffed and hauled away for murder, all he could do was make the most of the time he had left. The Run for a Million had been his dream. He would live that dream—until it ended.
Cheyenne watched her beloved brother stride out into the spotlight, so tall and proud that it brought tears to her eyes. Whether he won or not—and she knew the odds—she would never forget this moment. Right now, the dread that might come after was a closed door, to be opened later.
She glanced at her mother, who was sitting beside her. Rachel’s work-roughened hands were tightly clasped in her lap. Her lips were pressed into a hard line, holdingback her emotion. Cheyenne’s mother had never been one to show her feelings, except for anger. The tenderness and love inside her were kept locked away like the precious contents of a treasure box.
Moments later, after a round of applause, the riders vanished, and the lights came on. The grooming machine made a final pass over the deep layer of specialized rodeo dirt that covered the arena floor. With everything in readiness, the competition began with the first rider.
Cheyenne checked her phone, hoping that Buck might’ve regretted his last message. But she should have known better. Buck had made a serious decision. The next move would have to be hers. Knowing Buck, a text wouldn’t be enough to persuade him he was wrong. As soon as this event was over and she got her mother home to the ranch, she planned to head straight for Ten Sleep, Wyoming, wherever that was and whatever way would get her there. She needed to tell him face-to-face that she didn’t care about his past. And if telling him wasn’t enough, she would show him.
Tension rose in the arena as the scores piled up. Lila leaned forward in her seat, watching each horse and rider, measuring their skill against her hopes for Roper and her stallion.
She’d seen enough reining competitions to understand how the complicated scoring system worked. Reining horses were judged on their execution of a series of maneuvers within a set pattern—circles, stopping slides, rollbacks, direction changes, and others. Each move was scored separately. At the end of the run, the scores were combined and any penalties subtracted. In a championship meet like this one, a score of less than 220 points was lackluster. A score in the high 220s was excellent. Anything over 230 would be in the winning range.
With half the contestants to go, the leading score was 228. But some of the best riders, including Roper, had yet to compete. That score was sure to be beaten.
Beside her, Gemma was lost in her phone. The girl had little interest in the sport. But Lila watched every move of the magnificent horses, struggling to keep her mind off the question tearing at her heart.
What would she do if Roper was found guilty of murdering her husband?
She’d heard the vicious rumors, but it wouldn’t have been because of her. She and Roper had barely known each other before Frank’s death. But Frank’s refusal to let Roper compete had chafed him more than she’d realized. She saw it now in Roper’s discipline and determination. Tonight was the culmination of a dream. It was what he’d wanted all along. Had he wanted it badly enough to kill for it? Sam Rafferty seemed to think he had.
But why was she questioning her own heart? She loved Roper, and she believed in his innocence. He was going to need her in the days ahead. She would be there for him.
In the hospital, Jasmine had been put to bed and treated for mild hypothermia. Due to the danger of water in her lungs, the doctor had decided to keep her overnight for observation. Sam had kissed her and left her dozing beneath warm flannel blankets. It was time to get back to work.
A police officer had taken her statement at the hospital and put out an APB for Hayden. Sam had also called the sheriff in Wichita Falls, who already had a warrant to arrest him. The law was closing in on Jasmine’s half brother. But right now, Sam had even more pressing responsibilities.
The officer gave him a ride back to South Point. As he took his seat in the main arena, Sam made the mental shiftback to his case. He’d checked his phone repeatedly for text messages and missed calls. But he’d heard nothing from Nick. By now, he was getting worried. Cancer could be unpredictable. What if his old friend and boss had been taken to the hospital?
He would wait for Roper’s performance, Sam decided. If he still hadn’t heard, he would call the Bureau in Abilene. Without the results of the DNA test, his hands were tied.
At least he’d made it back here before Roper’s turn to compete. There were six riders to go. Roper would be second to last. On the scoreboard, the leading rider had 231 points, whatever that meant. Sam had watched Roper practice, but he’d never seen a reining competition or taken the time to learn about the sport. To him, it was about as suspenseful as watching paint dry, with every horse and rider doing the same exact routine. Some were obviously better than others, hence the points awarded. But to Sam they all looked the same. He’d take a good basketball game any day.
But he hadn’t come here to watch a horse show. His instincts told him that Frank Culhane’s killer was here in the arena. He had one last chance to find proof—and, given the delay in hearing from Nick, he might not be able to depend on the DNA.