The Second Son. Joanna Wayne

did Ricky use for collateral?”

      “I don’t know. I didn’t get into the details with them. They worked it out between themselves.”

      Branson fingered the brim of his hat. “So, let’s see if I have this straight. You asked your wealthy fiance´ for a loan of fifty thousand dollars because you thought it would save your sister’s life. He agreed and the two of you went back to the business of planning a wedding.”

      “That pretty much sums it up.”

      “So, if the men got their money, why would they still be trying to kill Kate?”

      “That’s the same question I’ve been asking myself ever since you told me she’d been shot.”

      “Where’s Ricky now?”

      “I have no idea.”

      “When was the last time you talked to him?”

      She shook her head and then raked flyaway wisps of hair from her cheeks. “Ricky called me on the phone a few days after the beating and thanked me for getting Charles to lend him the money. That’s the last I’ve heard from him.”

      Branson stared straight ahead. “This makes absolutely no sense.”

      “I agree, but I’ve told you everything I know. So, if you’d lend me a few dollars, I’ll catch a cab and go see if Charles will at least let me back into the house to get my things. I’ll pay you back. Of course, you’ll have to take my word on that.”

      “I’m not a trusting sort. Besides, I have a better idea. You can go home with me.”

      “I don’t think so, Sheriff.”

      “It’s not what you’re thinking,” he added quickly. “It’s the family ranch down in Kelman. You’ll have a room of your own and the most diligent chaperon in the state of Texas—my mom. So you won’t have to worry about your virtue not being as intact when you leave as when you arrive.”

      Suspicion edged along her nerve endings. “Why would you invite me to your home? You don’t know me or anything about me.”

      “I can’t resist coming to the aid of a beautiful woman in danger.”

      She didn’t buy that for a second. “I’m not in danger. I’m an innocent bystander.”

      “Then come with me for the sake of the investigation. I’m looking for your sister. I’ll need to know everything you know about her life and her habits if I’m to find her before her would-be killer does.” He stood up, taking her hand and tugging her to her feet as well. “Besides, Charles isn’t your husband. There’s no honeymoon to hurry back to.”

      “How long are we talking about?”

      “How long can you spare?”

      “Let’s see, at this point I’m sure I no longer have a position at Castile’s law firm, I gave up my apartment already, and I doubt Charles is going to welcome me back into his home in the hills with open arms.”

      “Then I guess you can stay as long as I need you.”

      As long as he needed her. That was as long as she’d ever stayed with any man before. Her visit to Kelman would surely be short.

      “Of course, I can’t promise you a good night’s sleep,” he said, walking along beside her in the direction of where they’d left his truck. “There’s a baby in the house.”

      “The mystery baby that Kate delivered to your door?”

      “That’s the one.”

      Lacy’s nerves tightened again. She hated to even think how her sister had come up with a baby. Especially one whose father was a Randolph. Maybe Branson’s, though he’d vehemently denied the possibility.

      There were probably many a woman enamored of the handsome cowboy lawman. Especially if you went for the intelligent, pensive type. Or if you liked the feel of his strong hand when it closed over yours. Or the sensation that crept into your senses when his hip accidentally brushed against yours as you walked side by side.

      Some women might like that. Probably only the ones who were breathing.

      Kelman, Texas

      BRANSON TURNED OFF the main highway and onto the road to Burning Pear. He probably should have called his mother and alerted her he was bringing a guest with him. She’d welcome Lacy with open arms, but she’d expect an explanation. She’d demand to know why he was providing bed and board to the sister of the woman who’d delivered Betsy to their door.

      And that was probably the reason he hadn’t called. The only explanation he could offer was the one he’d given Lacy, and that one held about as much water as the feed pail he’d shot full of holes last weekend when he’d found a rattler inside it. He could easily question Lacy about her sister without having her sleep under the same roof as he did.

      But he didn’t want her disappearing on him the way Kate had. Besides, he wasn’t convinced that she’d told him the whole truth. And he was even less certain that she wasn’t in danger herself.

      “What will your mother say when you come waltzing in on a Friday night with a woman in tow?” Lacy asked, breaking the silence that had ridden between them for most of the ninety-minute trip.

      “First of all, I don’t waltz. I have two left feet. Second, with any luck, she’ll be asleep. Langley will likely be asleep as well, and Ryder will probably be out at the Roadhouse courting one of the local ladies.”

      “Langley and Ryder?”

      “My brothers. Langley runs the ranch with some help from Ryder and me and a few hands. Ryder was on the rodeo circuit, but he’s been sidelined with an injury for almost a year. He’s healing nicely, but he still has a slight limp and the doctor hasn’t given him the okay to return to the suicide circuit. My older brother, Dillon, is in Austin.”

      Lacy sank back against the seat. “A big, close-knit Texas family, and I’m just going to barge in on them. I don’t think this is such a good idea, Branson.”

      “Too late to worry about that now.”

      “It’s never too late to worry.”

      He lowered his window a notch. “Just breathe that air.”

      She did. “Smells like any other air to me, minus the city pollution, of course.”

      “Dust, cattle, cactus, mesquite. Smells like home to me.”

      “Not something I’d want to bottle.” Still, she lowered her window a couple of inches as well. “Haven’t you ever wanted to escape from your rural roots, move to the big city, be blinded by the bright lights?”

      “Once. When I was about twelve years old, I had my heart set on becoming an astronaut.”

      “What changed your mind?”

      “The colt my dad gave me that year for my very own. I wrote to NASA. They said they didn’t have any plans for sending horses on space missions. How about you? What did you dream of when you were young?”

      Branson was sorry he’d asked the question before it had cleared his tongue. It was as if he could see Lacy sink into a sheltering hole.

      “I had no dreams.” Lacy turned to stare out the window and into the moonlit shadows that marched by them. “My mother died when I was ten.”

      “That’s tough when you’re a kid. I was fourteen when my dad died. I thought my world had come to an end.”

      “That’s the difference between you and me, Sheriff. Mine had.”

      Her tone left no doubt that the conversation was finished. It was just as well. Sharing dreams and disillusionments was something close friends did, people who had more vested in their relationship than finding a missing sister and her would-be killer.