Roping Ray Mccullen. Rita Herron

“You were lying about the lawyer and the will.”

      “No, I wasn’t. Ask Barbara. We’re all supposed to attend the reading.”

      Bobby hesitated, still contemplating what she’d said as if he thought she was trying to trick him. “What is this lawyer’s name?”

      “Darren Bush.” Scarlet took a step toward him, her hand steady. “I don’t want to use this, Bobby, but I will if I have to. Now, I don’t have anything you want here. No money. Nothing of Joe’s. And if you want to collect on whatever inheritance he left you, then you need to leave me alone or I’ll either shoot you or have you arrested.”

      Pure rage flashed in his eyes, but he lifted the beer as if to toast her. “Shoot me and you’ll go to jail.”

      “Make one more move, Bobby, and with your record, all I’ll have to do is claim self-defense.”

      Bobby stared at her for a long tension-filled minute, his fury a palpable force. Then he downed the beer, crushed the can in his hand and threw the can at the fireplace. His boots pounded the floor as he strode to the door.

      Her hand was shaking as he paused and turned back to face her. “You’re going to be sorry for pulling a gun on me.”

      His evil laugh rent the air as he opened the door and stormed outside. As soon as the door slammed shut, her adrenaline waned, and she stumbled back to the couch.

      Bobby didn’t make empty threats.

      He would be back for revenge. It was just a matter of time.

      * * *

      RAY PLANTED HIMSELF on a barstool at The Silver Bullet and ordered a beer. Tonight the place was packed, the country music was rocking, the dance floor was crowded and the women were on the prowl.

      He tipped his hat at a brunette who’d been eyeing him ever since he walked in, then dropped his gaze to his beer. He had too many problems to even think about crawling into bed with a woman tonight.

      Besides, another woman’s face haunted him.

      Scarlet Lovett’s. He couldn’t shake their conversation. Worse, he couldn’t erase the image of her porcelain face with those damn blue eyes that reminded him of his mother’s dolls.

      Had his father seen that similarity? Was that the reason he’d been drawn to help Scarlet?

      A brawny man with a beard and cowboy hat straddled the stool beside him, then angled himself toward Ray.

      “You’re one of Joe’s sons, aren’t you?”

      Ray swallowed hard. He’d forgotten what it was like to live in a small town where everyone knew everyone else. And Joe McCullen had been well-known around the ranching community.

      “Yeah, I’m Ray.”

      “Arlis Bennett,” the man said. “I’m out at the Circle T.”

      Ray rubbed his chin. The owner of that ranch, Boyle Gates, had been arrested for his involvement in a cattle-rustling ring.

      “I’m planning to expand,” Bennett said. “If you and your brothers decide to sell, give me a call.” He removed a business card from his pocket and laid it on the bar.

      Ray slid it back toward him. “We’re not interested in selling. My brother Maddox plans to keep it a working ranch. And my brother Brett is staying to help.”

      Bennett tossed back his shot of whiskey with a nod. “Well, I just thought you guys might want to move on. That it might be too hard for you to stick around without your father.”

      Ray shifted, uncomfortable. “It is difficult, but the McCullens have put too much blood, sweat and tears into Horseshoe Creek to ever sell.”

      “Then I guess we’ll be neighbors.” Bennett stood and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Ray. Again, I’m sorry about your daddy.”

      Ray nodded and shook the man’s hand. But something about the dark gleam in Bennett’s eyes reminded Ray of a predator. Not that he should be surprised that someone wanted to buy the ranch.

      There might be more offers down the road.

      A buxom blonde brushed up against his arm, her eyes glittering with invitation. “Hey, cowboy. Are you lonesome tonight?”

      Hell, yeah he was, but an image of Scarlet taunted him. He saw her beneath him in bed, naked and clutching him, that porcelain skin glowing with passion.

      “Sorry, honey, I’ve got to go.” He threw some cash on the counter to pay for the beer, then strode toward the door, disgusted with himself for being attracted to the damn woman. She was going to wreck his family.

      A gust of wind blasted him as he walked to his Range Rover, and he jumped inside, started the engine and drove to the ranch.

      Just as he approached, he spotted smoke billowing in a cloud from the pastureland on the east side.

      He cursed. Hopefully it was nothing but a little brush fire, but he accelerated, taking the curve too fast, tires screeching as he neared Horseshoe Creek.

      The miles seemed to take forever, his heart racing with each one. Instead of the smoke dying down, it grew thicker, rolling across the sky, orange-and-red flames shooting upward.

      He grabbed his phone and punched 911, praying the fire department could get there fast.

      The winds picked up and the fire was spreading, eating up valuable pastureland and heading toward the new stables Brett had just had built.

       Chapter Five

      Ray jolted to a stop several hundred feet from the flames.

      The fire department should be on the way, but he couldn’t wait. He had to do something. He quickly scanned the blaze. One of the five barns Brett had had built was on fire, but the others were still safe, although if they didn’t do something fast, it would spread.

      The sound of horses whinnying and pounding their hoofs against the buildings echoed above the roar of the blaze.

      He punched Brett’s number, running toward the burning building to make sure it was empty as the phone rang. Three rings and his brother’s voice mail kicked in. “Brett, it’s Ray. There’s a fire at the stables. I’ve called the fire department, but I need you to get over here now.”

      He jammed his phone into his coat pocket and checked the doorway to the first barn. Flames shot through the interior and seeped through the openings. He darted around back to the rear door and felt it. Warm, but not too hot.

      He eased it open and glanced inside, heat instantly flushing his skin with perspiration. The right side of the barn was completely engulfed in flames, patches spreading through the interior, eating the floor and hay in the stalls.

      No sign of horses inside, though. Thank God.

      Still, if they didn’t contain the blaze, the animals could be in danger.

      He ran back outside, gulping in fresh air as he hurried to the second barn. Smoke thickened the air, the wind blowing fiery sparks into the grass by the second barn and quickly catching.

      Dammit. Where was that fire engine?

      Knowing he couldn’t wait, he dashed inside the barn. Three horses stamped and kicked, pawing at the stalls to escape. Smoke seeped through the open doorway, making it hard to breathe.

      He jogged to the first stall, unlatched the gate and yelled at the horse to get out. “Go on, buddy! It’s all right.”

      The black gelding sprinted through the barn and outside. A siren wailed, and he ran to the next stall. The big animal was pawing and kicking wildly, obviously panicked.

      “Shh, buddy, I’m going to set you free.” He opened the gate, then jumped aside as the horse