Roping Ray Mccullen. Rita Herron

told you it was dinnertime,” Faye said. “The kids take turns helping prepare the meal and cleaning up. Their rooms are down the hall. We have a maximum of four children to a room, and in some cases only two. Boys and girls are housed on opposite sides of the main living area.”

      She escorted him past the dining room to a large room equipped with several smaller tables and a computer area. “The children attend public school, and after school gather here to do their homework. We have volunteers who tutor those who need it.”

      Ray nodded, trying to imagine his father in this place. “My father tutored kids?”

      “No, he said schooling wasn’t his forte.”

      You could say that again.

      “But he helped in other ways. He organized games for the kids, like horseshoes, roping contests and, twice a month, he brought a couple of horses over to teach the children grooming skills and how to ride.”

      She gestured at a back window that offered a view of the pastureland. “He planned to build a stable so we could house a few horses on-site. When the older boys discovered his son was a bull rider, they begged him to bring him here to meet them.”

      Ray shifted. “That would have required him to tell us about this place.”

      Faye’s eyes flickered with compassion. “I never quite understood that, but I figured it wasn’t my place to question your daddy, not when he was doing so much for us.”

      Hurt swelled inside Ray. Nice that he’d been a hero for these strangers when he’d lied to his own sons.

      A little boy with brown hair and big clunky glasses ran in. “Miss Faye, we’re done. Barry wants to know if we can go out and play horseshoes.”

      Faye ruffled the little boy’s hair. “I’ll be right there, Corey. You guys help Miss Lois clean up now.”

      Corey bobbed his head up and down, then ran back to the dining room. Ray heard him shouting that they could play once they cleaned up.

      Faye squeezed Ray’s arm. “You’re welcome to stay and play a game with the children. They’d like it, especially since you’re Joe’s son.”

      Ray chewed the inside of his cheek. The air was suddenly choking him. “I’m sorry, I can’t today. I have to go.”

      Faye nodded as if she understood, but her smile was sad. “I don’t know what we’re going to do now without Joe.”

      Ray didn’t, either. But it wasn’t his problem.

      Was it?

      Hell, if his father had made provisions for Scarlet and his illegitimate son Bobby, he’d probably made arrangements to take care of this place, too.

      Another thing to discuss with the lawyer and his brothers.

      He ignored the chatter and laughter in the dining room as he walked past it to the front door. When he made it outside, he inhaled the crisp cool air, but his stomach was churning.

      He checked his phone, hoping Bush would return his call, but there were no messages. He had to find out if Bobby planned to attend the meeting and stake his claim.

      Ray gritted his teeth. He’d kept the truth from his brothers long enough. They deserved a heads-up before their world fell apart.

      He would tell them as soon as Maddox returned.

      * * *

      SCARLET TRIED TO gauge the distance between the couch and the bedroom where she kept the pistol Joe had given her.

      He’d insisted she take self-defense classes and he’d taught her to shoot so she could protect herself. Unarmed, she was no match for a two-hundred-and-forty-pound angry, drunk man.

      Knowing Bobby’s triggers, that he liked to bully women and that he had no tolerance for people who crossed him, she forced her tone to remain calm. “What do you want, Bobby?”

      “I want what’s mine.” He glared at her, then folded his arms and planted himself in front of her, legs apart on either side of hers, trapping her.

      “I understand that and you deserve it.”

      Distrust radiated from his every pore. “You went to the old man’s funeral?”

      A pang of grief swelled inside Scarlet. “Yes, but I just watched from the sidelines.” She lifted her chin. “I didn’t see you there.”

      “Barbara talked me out of it.” He gave a sarcastic chuckle. “I belonged there more than you did. You weren’t family.”

      Scarlet bit her tongue but his hate-filled words hit home, resurrecting old hurts. “I figured it wasn’t the time to introduce myself to the McCullen brothers.”

      It hadn’t gone very well today, either.

      Bobby removed a pack of matches from his pocket, and she barely resisted a flinch. Bobby had always liked setting things on fire.

      He struck a match, lit it and held it in front of her, the orange glow flickering and throwing off heat as he moved it nearer to her face. “I should have been a McCullen,” he said, a feral gleam to his eyes. “I should have had everything they did. That big damn ranch house and horses and land and...the privileges that came with it.” The match was burning down, and he dropped it in a coffee cup on her table, then lit another and waved it in front of her eyes.

      With one beefy hand, he shoved her into a chair. “Then he brought you home and treated you like you were his own kid.”

      Scarlet struggled to keep her breathing steady when she wanted to make a run for it. If she could reach her car, she could escape. And do what?

      Call the police. She didn’t want to, but she would if necessary to protect herself. “He felt sorry for me, that was all.”

      His intense look made her pulse hammer. “He gave you more love than he did me.”

      “That’s because you wouldn’t let him love you,” Scarlet said. “You were always angry, acting out.”

      “I had a right to be mad. He cheated me out of his name and that ranch.” The flame flickered low, nearly burning out, and he suddenly dropped the match into her lap. Scarlet shrieked as heat seared her thigh through her skirt, and she raked the match to the floor, then stomped it out with her boot.

      Bobby’s maniacal laughter echoed through the room. He grabbed her arm and hauled her to a standing position.

      Scarlet sensed the situation was spiraling out of control. She had been a punching bag before and swore she would never be one again.

      “Maybe he did when he was alive,” Scarlet said as she yanked her arm away. “But he didn’t forget you, Bobby. He left you something in his will.”

      Bobby’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

      “Didn’t you receive a notice from his lawyer?” Not that she wanted to tell Bobby about it, but she had to do something to defuse the situation.

      His bloodshot eyes pierced her. “His lawyer?”

      “Yes,” Scarlet said, desperate. “I received a notice to attend the reading.” She extricated herself from Bobby’s grip. “Let me get it and show it to you. He took care of you in his will, too. Maybe Barbara got the notice.”

      Bobby cursed, but he allowed her to pass. She heard him in the kitchen digging through her refrigerator, and she rushed to her nightstand. She yanked out her pistol, reminding herself that she couldn’t allow him to turn it around and use it on her.

      She loaded it, then held it down by her side as she slowly walked back to the den.

      Bobby popped the top on a beer as he stepped into the doorway, and she raised the gun and pointed it at him. “I want you to leave.”

      “You bitch.” He