Legally Binding Page 15

  “He didn’t kill Jeb Rawlins.”

  “Right. What you and this whole damn town don’t seem to understand is that just because Bart was a football star in high school, and he’s been Mustang Valley’s goddamn golden boy all the years since, doesn’t mean he’s better than the rest of us. Doesn’t mean he gets away with murder, either. And I’m going to make damn sure of it.”

  Bart’s blood heated to boiling. “So that’s what it comes down to, Hurley? You’ve been waiting all these years to pay me back for beating you out for quarterback in high school?”

  “I didn’t put the knife in your hand and aim you at Jeb’s throat. I’ll enjoy bringing you down, but you’re the one who made it happen. And if the fire inspector finds you had anything to do with this, I’ll be right there to arrest you for insurance fraud and arson.” The deputy walked away, each stride exaggerated like a puffed-up rooster.

  Bart raked a hand through his hair. “Hell, I wouldn’t put it past Hurley to frame me for the fire.”

  She raised her chin. Determination glinted in her eyes. “I’m going to have a talk with Cara. Maybe Hurley isn’t concerned about the life and property of a defendant in a murder trial, but I’ll bet Sheriff Ben will care about what the press has to say. Especially with an election coming up in the fall.”

  Bart watched her stride off. The blanket flared out behind her like some damn superhero cape. If anyone could twist Ben and Hurley’s arms, it would be Lindsey and Cara. They were just lucky Kelly Lansing had left on her honeymoon, and they only had two of the dynamic trio to contend with.

  Bart looked down the driveway in the direction of Mitch Steele’s fading taillights. He hoped Mitch could dig something up to nail Kenny. Of course, even if he did, Sheriff Ben was still in charge. And press or no press, the sheriff would favor Hurley’s word over Mitch’s any day. Hadn’t his failed attempts to reach Mitch before this already proved that? Hadn’t Mitch himself said the sheriff and Hurley had purposely kept him away from Bart’s case?

  A chill worked over his chest and back. The truth was, no matter what Cara wrote in the paper, no matter which deputy was on the case, Bart couldn’t expect protection from Sheriff Ben. Not for his dad or Lindsey or the cowboys, horses and cattle who lived on the Four Aces.

  He thought of Lindsey. Of the way she’d given herself to him last night. Of the way she’d risked her neck to save the broodmare. Of the way she’d stood toe-to-toe with Hurley to defend him with all the fire of an avenging angel. If anything happened to her…if anything happened to Daddy or Gary or the other hands and their families…he would never forgive himself. If there was anything he’d learned through this ordeal it was that people were precious. More precious than unfulfilled dreams or family legacies. More precious than wide-open spaces and white pipe fence. A lot of people on this ranch relied on him, and it was up to Bart to make sure they were safe.

  Or at least to take away the reason they were in danger.

  “ARE YOU ALL RIGHT, Bart?” Paul Lambert’s brow pinched in a concerned frown. He swung the door to his office wide and ushered Bart inside like he was royalty.

  Or some kind of invalid.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I heard about the fire at the Four Aces. It was a miracle you didn’t lose any horses. Or people.”

  Bart nodded. It was barely ten o’clock in the morning, but by now he had no doubt every soul in Mustang Valley had heard about last night’s fire. “Guess I’ve been providing the town’s entertainment lately.”

  The pity on Paul’s face stung.

  Bart shifted his boots on the thick carpet. Hell, he didn’t need pity. He, Lindsey, Gary and all the hands had gotten by unhurt. They’d managed to save all the horses. What they hadn’t saved was the barn itself. Or Bart’s confidence that he could protect his dad or Lindsey or anyone else, for that matter. Especially if he was operating from a jail cell.

  A shiver worked its way over his skin. If he hadn’t seen Lindsey through the smoke…

  He shut the image from his mind. He couldn’t think about how close he’d come to losing her. He could only focus on what had brought him to Lambert & Church. “I didn’t come about the fire, Paul. I need to talk to you.”

  “What about?”

  Bart took his hat from his singed hair and tried to beat back his misgivings. He hated not telling Lindsey what he was doing, but he couldn’t take the chance that she would talk him out of it. “The other day you said you had someone interested in buying the Four Aces.”

  “You want to sell?”

  Bart bobbed his head. Pain threaded through his chest with every beat of his heart.

  “Why don’t you sit down?”

  Hat in hand, Bart forced himself to walk to the desk. The soles of his boots bogged down in the plush carpet. The office’s air-freshener scent clogged his throat, still sore from smoke. When he reached the chairs in front of Paul’s desk, he balked. Somehow the thought of sinking into one of those chairs seemed like he was giving up.

  Paul circled his desk, his shrewd eyes sizing up the situation. “You seem hesitant.”

  Hesitant about selling his dreams? His legacy for future generations of Rawlins children? Rawlins children that would never be born? He shook his head. “I don’t have much of a choice.”

  Paul arched his brows. “This isn’t about your case, is it? Lindsey might be a little green, but she’s a competent attorney. The law is in her blood. You’ll see when you get to trial.”

  “I don’t doubt Lindsey. Not for one second.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  He didn’t want to tell Paul more. Not today. Not when he felt that every word of explanation tore away a little bit of his soul. “Do you want to talk business? Or should I call Brandy Carmichael and list the ranch with her?”

  At mention of Brandy’s name, Paul froze. Guilt showed clear as day on his face along with a touch of anger. Apparently the cheerleader-turned-Realtor was telling the truth about their personal history. “I can call my client right now, if you like, set up a meeting.”

  The air seemed to rush from the room. Bart struggled to take a breath. He had to do this. If he wanted to keep Lindsey safe, keep his dad safe, keep the hands and their families safe, he needed to say goodbye to the only home he’d ever known.

  A small price to pay. “Do it.”

  LINDSEY SORTED through the papers and unopened mail cluttering her desk. She couldn’t stand working in this kind of mess. She liked the desktop clear, organized, professional. Especially since her life had been anything but clear, organized and professional since she’d walked into the Mustang Valley jail and shaken hands with Bart.

  Her throat ached at the thought of him. His strength and cool head when he’d helped her rescue the broodmare from the fire. The pain she’d seen in his eyes as he watched the smoldering skeleton of his prized horse barn. The way he so obviously cared about every cowboy and horse and cow who lived on the ranch as if they were part of his family.

  The way he cared about her.

  A tingle traveled over her body. Last night he’d said he wanted to show her how deeply and thoroughly a man could love a woman. He had done just that and more. And now the future seemed more muddled than ever.

  She picked up the stack of mail that had just arrived this morning and forced her mind off Bart and onto work. She flipped through the letters. A request for a court date here, a note from her mother there. A plain white envelope caught her attention. A Fort Worth postmark canceled the stamp. Her pulse picked up its pace.

  Fitting a nail under the flap, she ripped it open. Tissue-thin paper spilled out. The drug report. Holding her breath, she unfolded it and skimmed the page. One word leaped out at her. The word listed in the results column of each test.

  Negative.

  She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands.

  “My God, Lindsey. Are you okay?”

  Lindsey wiped silent tears from the corners of her eyes and focused on Nancy
standing in the doorway. “I’m fine.”

  “I heard about the fire at the Four Aces. How terrible. Shouldn’t you be home recovering?”

  Although Nancy seemed like a nice woman, she had never acted personally concerned about Lindsey since she had taken the job at Lambert & Church. Wouldn’t you know her maternal instincts would pick now to kick in? Now, when Lindsey desperately needed to be alone. “I’m fine, Nancy. Really.”

  The older woman tapped herself on the forehead as if remembering something. “The meeting, of course. I suppose you had to come in for the meeting this morning.”

  “Meeting?”

  “With Roger Rosales from the Ranger Corporation.”

  She gave Nancy a blank look.

  “Don’t you know?”

  Lindsey shook her head.

  “I realize you’re acting as Bart Rawlins’s criminal attorney. But I just assumed you were involved with this, too. Or you’d know about it, at the very least.” She shook her head, flustered, and pressed her lips tightly closed as if determined not to let another word escape.

  “What was the meeting about, Nancy?”

  The office administrator’s eyes shifted to the door. She looked like she wanted to bolt.

  “What was the meeting about?” she repeated. “I’m Bart’s attorney. You can tell me.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Suit yourself. But if you don’t dish, I’m going to have to walk down the hall and ask Paul. He’ll want to know where I got wind of the meeting and…”

  “All right, all right. It’s about Bart’s ranch, the Four Aces. He’s selling.”

  “And Ranger Corporation is buying,” Lindsey said flatly. She wrapped her arms around herself and willed her body not to start shaking.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You can’t sell the ranch.”

  Bart stopped in his tracks in front of the corral and turned to face Lindsey. He knew she’d find out. She was too smart, too resourceful for him to be able to keep her in the dark long. “I have to sell, Lindsey. It’s the only way.”

  “The only way to do what?”

  “Protect you, Daddy, Gary, the hands and their families, everyone. You read that message spray-painted on your car. My God, you were attacked in your apartment. Anyone who’s around me is in danger. If I sell, it’ll break the connection.”

  “It won’t break the connection between you and your father. Or you and me.”

  “No.” He looked past her and focused on the spot where Gary’s bay mare stood tied to the corral fence, saddled and ready. “I’m still figuring a way to deal with that.”

  “You don’t have to sell the ranch. Hire security.”

  “For the next twenty-five years to life?”

  “You’re not going to be convicted.”

  He shook his head and brought his gaze back to her. Determination burned in her eyes, hot as blue flame. Her hands balled into fists by her side like she was ready to challenge the entire Mustang Valley legal system to a brawl in order to save his hide. “You’ve seen for yourself how the law works in this county. Hurley might or might not be crooked, but he definitely has a grudge against me. And he has definitely stacked the deck.”

  Concern flashed in her eyes. She glanced away, a split second too late.

  “What? What’s happened?”

  “I got the drug analysis from the lab. Blood and urine.”

  He didn’t have to hear her answer to know what the report said. He steeled himself for the blow. “There was no Rohypnol, was there? Or anything else.”

  “No.”

  He met the news without flinching. “Selling the place is the right thing to do. The only thing I can do.”

  She shook her head and raised her chin. “No. I’ll find another way to prove you’re innocent. I can win an acquittal. You have to believe in me.”

  “I do believe in you. But I can’t ignore the evidence stacked against me.”

  She shook her head. “My family always says they believe in me, too. But they don’t act like it. You don’t, either.”

  “It isn’t a matter of believing in you, Lindsey. I just can’t take the chance someone will be hurt. That you’ll be hurt. People are more important than a ranch. Even this ranch.”

  She looked away from him, glancing past the horse tied to the fence and toward the apartments beyond. Two little kids galloped around like colts in front of the long, low building. When she looked back to him, the fire in her eyes was barely a smolder. “You’re right. This has nothing to do with me. And you have no other choice.”

  A knife of pain stabbed into his chest at the defeat in her voice, in her eyes. He reached out and pulled her into his arms. “The way your family tries to protect you and help you has nothing to do with not believing in you, either, Lindsey. They worry about you because they love you.”

  She looked up at him and searched his eyes. “And you? Why do you worry about me, Bart?”

  His throat closed. He touched her hair, her face, and then let his hand fall to his side. Swallowing hard, he pulled back and turned away. He couldn’t look into her eyes one more second. Couldn’t stand to see the love shining there. The kind of love he’d seen in his mama’s eyes every time she looked at his daddy. The kind of forever love he’d have given his soul for before he’d been charged with Jeb’s murder.

  He focused on Gary’s mare. A halter and lead rope secured her to the fence. A brand new bridle draped over the saddle horn. The bit and reins rested against the pro rodeo logo tooled into the saddle’s fender.

  A dose of adrenaline slammed into his bloodstream. “That saddle.”

  Lindsey glanced at the saddle and then back to him, her eyebrows dipping low in question.

  “The saddle on Gary’s mare. It’s the one he won back when he was riding the rodeo circuit.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “It’s his favorite saddle. He kept it in the tack room of the horse barn.”

  Understanding dawned. Her eyes widened. “The saddle should have burned along with everything else in the tack room.”

  He nodded. “Unless Gary took it out…” He didn’t want to believe where his mind was taking him.

  “…before he started the fire…” Lindsey finished for him.

  LINDSEY STOOD behind Bart as he slipped his key into Gary’s apartment door. Despite the fact that his horse was tied to the corral fence, the foreman was nowhere to be found. And he didn’t answer the knock on his door.

  She thought of the pain on Bart’s face when he recognized what the saddle meant. Duplicity. Betrayal. If only they could call the sheriff, let the law deal with Gary. It would be easier on Bart than confronting his foreman personally. But Hurley hadn’t taken the fire seriously in the first place. Calling him would yield nothing but the joy of dealing with his bad attitude. No, they had to get evidence of Gary’s involvement. Once they did that, Hurley and the sheriff would have no choice but to pursue the case.

  The knob turned under Bart’s hand and he swung the door wide. The room was dim, blinds drawn against the morning sun. “Gary? You home?”

  The apartment was silent as death.

  Bart flicked on a light and stepped into the living room.

  Lindsey followed, glancing around the room, looking for some clue to the man who lived there. But except for a worn couch and small television, the room was nearly empty. No sign of Gary. Not much sign of life in general. At least not much of a life. “How well do you know Gary?”

  “He started working here when I was just a kid. He taught me practically everything I know about ranching. He’s been like a brother.”

  Like a brother. His words tore at Lindsey’s heart. The strain on Bart was worse than she’d imagined. Much worse. “Maybe he didn’t do anything. Maybe there’s another explanation for the saddle.”

  “If there is, I sure as hell can’t come up with it. And I’ve been trying. God, have I been trying.”

  Her heart ached for him. “But why would he b
urn the horse barn?”

  Bart flinched with obvious pain. “I wish I couldn’t think of a reason.”

  She watched him with questioning eyes and willed him to go on.

  “When my daddy passed the ranch to me, he gave a portion to Gary for his retirement. Sweat equity.”

  “So he’ll profit when you sell.”

  Bart nodded. “He’s been wanting to retire for a long time now. Bad back. He may have thought a fire would hurry up the sale. If he did, he was right.”

  “But if he wanted the money to retire, why wouldn’t he just ask you to buy him out?”

  “He did. Only problem was cash flow. I couldn’t scare up the money to give him what his share is worth. And with beef prices the way they’ve been for the past ten years, the bank refused to loan me that much. The Four Aces is a successful operation, but that’s only because we’ve cut the fat to the bone. It’ll take me years to get the kind of money Gary deserved. He knew that.”

  “Why wouldn’t he just sell to someone else?”

  “My daddy stipulated that he could only sell back to a Rawlins. He wanted to keep the ranch in the family. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that. Maybe he should have given Gary more of a way out.” He drew in a pained breath. “I guess the only way we’re going to get answers is to start looking.”

  She nodded. They needed answers, all right. She just hoped the answers they found wouldn’t bring Bart more anguish.

  They moved quickly through the apartment. The place was painstakingly neat, making a search easy—a search that turned up a couple of sticks of furniture, a few dishes and some work clothes. In other words, nothing.

  “There’s one other place he stores things. Follow me.”

  They retraced their steps. Once outside, Bart headed for a garage to the rear of the apartment building. He pulled up the door. Sunlight flooded the space, illuminating everything from an old sofa and chair to stacks of boxes to spare tires.

  Bart picked his way through the garage to a row of cabinets lining the back wall. “This one’s Gary’s.” He opened one of the doors. Color drained from his face. “Damn.”