Legally Binding Page 3

  Kenny stepped closer. The stench of cheap whiskey wafted on his breath. He jabbed a fist at Bart. The punch missed. “Gonna pull out your knife, Bart? Oh, that’s right. The police confiscated it after you used it to kill your own flesh and blood.”

  Lindsey stepped forward. “How do you know about Bart’s knife?”

  Kenny didn’t bother to give her a glance, as if she wasn’t important enough to answer.

  Bart tried to keep a lid on his simmering temper. Getting into a fistfight with Kenny wouldn’t do anyone any good. “Go home and sleep it off, Kenny.”

  “Won’t change anything. When I wake up, my old man will still be dead, and you’ll still be the one to blame.” He threw another punch. His fist plowed into Bart’s arm, connecting solidly this time.

  Bart’s arm throbbed with the blow. His own hands clenched into fists. Grieving or not, one more hit and Kenny was history. “I wouldn’t do that again if I were you.”

  “Or what? You going to sic your whore on me?” He leered at Lindsey and drew back his arm.

  Bart didn’t wait for Kenny’s next punch to fall. His own fist was already flying.

  Chapter Three

  Lindsey stared in horror as Bart’s big fist plowed into Kenny’s middle.

  Kenny hunched over and stumbled to the side. He slammed into a bottle bin and fell. The receptacle tipped over. Glass shattered. Bottles scattered along the ground, brown glass everywhere.

  The blonde who’d entered the alley with Kenny ran to his side. “Kenny? Are you all right?”

  Kenny sputtered, as if trying to catch his breath. “You saw that. He attacked me. He tried to kill me.”

  Bart loomed over him. “If I’d tried to kill you, you’d be dead. Now get the hell out of here.”

  The blonde grabbed Kenny’s arm, pulling him to his feet and toward the mouth of the alley. “You heard him, Kenny. Let’s go.”

  Kenny shrugged off her hold. “I ain’t going nowhere. He tried to kill me. You saw it. I want the sheriff. Somebody call the sheriff. I want to press charges.”

  Lindsey almost groaned. The last thing Bart needed was for the sheriff’s department to get involved. The court could decide to revoke his bail over this. He’d be locked in jail awaiting trial. “You threw the first punch, Mr. Rawlins. I think you’ll be hard-pressed to prove Bart tried to kill you.”

  Kenny’s mouth flattened into a hard line. His eyes narrowed. “What do you know about it?”

  “Plenty.” She fished a card from the pocket of her suit jacket and thrust it at him, hoping her profession would give him pause. “I’m a lawyer.”

  He squinted at the card, then looked up at Bart. “So she’s not your whore after all. She’s worse. She’s your goddamn lawyer.”

  Bart charged Kenny.

  Spinning on his heel, Kenny scampered from the alley. Once he was a safe distance away, he looked over his shoulder. “I’ll get you, Bart. You won’t get away with what you’ve done.”

  The door of the tavern flew open and Wade Lansing stepped out. Assessing the situation through narrowed gray eyes, he walked over to Bart. “What the hell is going on out here?”

  While Bart explained what had happened, Lindsey watched the small crowd that had followed Kenny to the alley disperse. A single woman stayed and stepped out from the shadows, the light from the setting sun turning her curls to fire. She scribbled notes on a pad of paper.

  Cara.

  Under normal circumstances, Lindsey would be happy to see one of the few good friends she’d made since moving to Mustang Valley. But these circumstances were anything but normal. Cara Hamilton was a reporter for the Mustang Gazette. And next to the sheriff or one of his deputies, a reporter was the last person Lindsey wanted to see right now. Even if it was Cara.

  She darted around Wade and Bart. She couldn’t do anything to change what had happened between Bart and Kenny, but maybe she could appeal to Cara not to splash the news all over Mustang Valley. “Hey, Cara.”

  Cara brushed a curl from her forehead and looked up from her notebook. “Hi, Lindsey. How are you mixed up in this? Are you representing Bart Rawlins?” Cara’s eyes flashed with inquisitiveness, her pen poised over paper.

  Great. Lindsey hadn’t taken into account that she might be part of Cara’s story. “Are you covering Jeb Rawlins’s murder?”

  “Of course not.” Cara rolled her eyes. “Beau is keeping the good stories to himself as usual.”

  Lindsey nodded. Cara’s editor, and owner of the Mustang Gazette, Beau Jennings, had covered every major story in Mustang Valley for the past forty-some years. “He knows once he gives you a major story, the Dallas papers will snatch you up in a heartbeat.”

  Cara tilted her head. “Of course, having a friend representing Bart Rawlins might just give me the break I need. So are you Bart’s lawyer, Lindsey?” she asked again.

  Lindsey should have known changing the subject wouldn’t throw Cara off. Once her friend smelled a story, she didn’t give up until she rooted out the truth. Lindsey sighed. “Yes.”

  “Why the heavy sigh? Is his case that bad?”

  “No.”

  “He has a strong case then?”

  She gave her friend a warning smile. “Quit fishing, Cara.”

  “Then talk to me.”

  “Off the record?”

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t print anything about this ridiculous fight.”

  “You’re kidding, right? This is news, Lindsey. I can’t just pretend I didn’t see what happened.”

  She let out another sigh. “No, I suppose you can’t. I’m just worried about poisoning the jury pool.”

  “I don’t know what it’s like in a big city like Boston, but gossip travels like dust in a strong wind around here. Even if I don’t write about what happened, people will hear about it. And there’s no telling what kind of twisted version they’ll get.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Damn straight.” Cara’s hazel eyes twinkled with humor.

  Lindsey tried to return her smile, but her attempt fell flat.

  “But you don’t have to worry. I’ll tell the whole story.”

  She gave Cara a questioning look.

  “Meaning, I’ll be writing that Kenny came looking for Bart and threw the first punch. I’ll also include a bit of background, like Kenny’s conviction for fraud.”

  “He’s been convicted?”

  “Kenny Rawlins is a master of the get-rich-quick scam. He’s cheated a lot of people in Mustang Valley, a fact my readers won’t easily forget.”

  Lindsey pressed her lips into a line. It wasn’t a great situation, but she could live with it. “Thanks, Cara.”

  “For what? Telling the truth?” Cara smiled. “If you really want to thank me, give me a few quotes about Bart’s case.”

  Lindsey took a deep breath of evening air. She supposed it was only fair she give her friend a quote. “He’s an innocent man. You can print that. And I’ll give you the scoop on who’s guilty as soon as I find out.”

  BART WATCHED a single set of approaching headlights play across Lindsey’s flawless skin. His attention trailed to her long, elegant fingers wrapped around the steering wheel of her little white sports car. On her right hand, a platinum ring with some kind of red stone glowed in the dashboard light. Her left ring finger was free of jewelry.

  He tried to concentrate on the ribbon of highway stretching from Mustang Valley to the Four Aces Ranch. He shouldn’t be noticing Lindsey’s skin and fingers and whether she was wearing a wedding ring. She was his lawyer, not a pretty young thing he’d met at some honky-tonk.

  Besides, he had more pressing things to deal with than a crush he couldn’t do anything about. Like being accused of murdering his uncle. Like the real possibility he would be spending the rest of his life behind bars. Even if Lindsey wasn’t his lawyer and far out of his league, he couldn’t do a damn thing about his attraction to her. Not with the prospect of spending the rest of his life in Huntsv
ille hanging over his head.

  After Kenny had left the alley, he and Lindsey had resumed their search for beer bottles with missing labels. All they’d come up with were two bottles and a few shards of glass from the bin Kenny had tipped over. Tomorrow morning Lindsey planned to drive to Fort Worth to drop off the bottles and shards at the same lab where Doc had sent the other samples. A long shot, but better than nothing.

  Of course, if it hadn’t been for Lindsey’s theory about the drug, he wouldn’t have a shot at all.

  His focus drifted back to her face. Her eyebrows knit together. She gnawed on her lower lip. All in all, she looked as worried as he felt. “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

  She started at his voice, then glanced at him briefly before bringing her attention back to the road ahead. “Your cousin, Kenny. Cara Hamilton said he’s been convicted for fraud.”

  “I suppose Cara’s going to write an article about what a hothead I was tonight.”

  “She promised to be fair and accurate. Under the circumstances, it’s the best we can hope for.”

  “Fair and accurate is still going to make me look like a hothead. I doubt that will help my case with the good people of Mustang County.”

  “The article probably won’t help, but something she brought up to me tonight might. What can you tell me about the scams your cousin pulled?”

  Bart searched his memory. He’d tried not to pay too much attention to Kenny’s dealings. Just thinking about them made his cheeks burn with shame that he and his cousin shared the same blood. “He was into everything from selling lame horses to spreading stories that local legend Shotgun Sally was born and raised on Jeb’s ranch, the Bar JR.”

  “My friends Cara and Kelly like to talk about Shotgun Sally. Kelly is one of Sally’s descendants.” Her elegant eyebrows dipped low over those intense blue eyes. “How could Kenny profit from saying Sally was born on the Bar JR?”

  “If there was a way, he found it. He sold worthless tin plates claiming they were from Sally’s homestead. Tried to promote tours of Jeb’s property. He even sold jars of dirt saying it came from Sally’s grave.”

  “But that’s all pretty harmless. Why was he charged?”

  “After he gave up on cashing in on Shotgun Sally, he sold cemetery plots to old folks. A lot of cemetery plots. Only the plots weren’t his to sell. He did three years in Huntsville. That was the end of his scams, far as I know. Though I’m sure he’s still finding some way to make a quick buck.”

  “How far would he go to make money?”

  He cocked his head at her question. “What are you thinking?”

  “From the way he talked about his father, I assume they didn’t get along.”

  “You assume right. Kenny had no use for Jeb. The only people Kenny blamed more than Jeb for his failures were me and my daddy.”

  “Because your father inherited more land?”

  “Yes. And because my father was a success with the land he inherited. Jeb started with a nice cattle operation. It only took him about two years to drink it away.” He could see where she was going. Her mind was heading down the same path his had since his run-in with his cousin. “You’re thinking Kenny might have killed Jeb.”

  “I keep wondering how he knew your knife was the murder weapon.”

  “Unless he used it himself?”

  “Is it possible? Would Kenny kill his own father if it meant a big inheritance?”

  “I wish I could say no. But I wouldn’t put it past him. If he inherits.”

  “He might not?”

  “Like I said, there wasn’t much love lost between them. Jeb might have written Kenny out of his will, for all I know.”

  “I’ll find out. Our firm is handling the estate.”

  “And defending me. Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

  “I’m not handling Jeb’s estate. Don Church is.”

  Bart nodded. Donald Church was a specialist in wills and trusts and a full partner of Lambert & Church. Back before Bart’s dad had gotten sick, he’d always sworn Don was the most honest lawyer in Texas. Bart gestured ahead to the next turn off the highway. “You’ll want to take a right up here.”

  Lindsey swung the car onto the road. Juniper groves flanking both sides, the drive twisted up a gentle hill overlooking the most beautiful country this close to Dallas/Fort Worth. Too bad it was way past nightfall. He would have loved to show her the view.

  Still looking worried, she squinted her eyes at the road ahead. “How about that blonde with Kenny tonight? Who is she?”

  “You got me. Last I kept track, he was dating Debbie West. But that was years ago. Before she married that other loser.”

  “Debbie West?”

  “A girl who grew up on a ranch bordering the Four Aces.”

  “That blonde last night sure didn’t look like the girl next door.”

  Lindsey was right about that. “She’s built like the women Kenny usually goes for—long legs, lots of curves—but something isn’t quite right.”

  “Like what?”

  “Her clothes. Her attitude. She has too much class to be hanging around Kenny. Of course, anyone who saw you and me together might say the same thing.”

  She pulled her eyes from the road and gave him more than a quick glance. “What do you mean?”

  “Look at you. Sophisticated, smart, a real lady yet sharp as a barbed-wire fence. If you weren’t my lawyer, you’d never be hanging around an old cowboy like me.”

  “Says who?” A smile softened her pretty lips. “If I wasn’t your lawyer—” She pressed her lips together and looked out the window, like she was embarrassed by the unprofessional blunder she’d almost made.

  If she wasn’t his lawyer…

  Did she mean she would be interested if… Bart shook his head and smothered the hope sparked by her comment. It didn’t matter. He sure as hell wasn’t going to be doing much dating. Not where he was headed. If they didn’t find some evidence they could use for a defense, the last thing he would have to worry about was his love life.

  He looked at the white pipe corrals and sprawling ranch house, apartment building, bunkhouse and barns ahead. A red dually pickup stood parked in its usual spot next to the main horse barn. He tilted his watch to read the face in the dashboard glow. It was plenty late, but this was important. “Gary’s home.”

  “Your foreman?”

  “You said you wanted to talk to him?”

  “Very much. If he didn’t drive you home last night, maybe he knows who did.”

  LINDSEY FOLLOWED Bart around a metal pole barn and toward the ranch foreman’s place. White buildings and a maze of pipe fence glowed in the moonlight and stretched as far as she could see. Even in the dead of night, the ranch was impressive. “Beautiful place.”

  “Wait until you see the whole thing in the daylight.” He motioned to the barn they were circling. “This is the horse part of the operation. It’s my addition.”

  “Addition? Don’t all ranches use horses?”

  “People in these parts don’t like to talk about it, but a lot of ranches rely on helicopters and four wheelers to move their cattle. With the cost of labor and the difficulty in finding qualified cowboys, it’s more economical than using horses. And these days, we in the beef industry need all the economy we can get. We even have a helicopter here at the Four Aces.”

  “Do you use horses at all?”

  “We use them most of the time. The helicopter just helps out. But most of the horses in this barn spend more time in the show ring than on the range.”

  “I used to show horses when I was growing up. Pony Club.”

  “No kidding? I’d like to take you riding.”

  “Do you have a hunt seat saddle handy? Or do your horses just ride western?”

  “Honey, quarter horses can do everything worth doing. And you can bet my quarter horses can do it better than anyone else’s.” He turned and gave her a teasing smile.

  Her heart lurched sideways. He was somet
hing, this cowboy. Proud as any red-blooded Texan one minute, yet self-deprecating the next. And through it all, his green eyes shone with a sparkle that made her wish…

  She stopped herself. What would she wish? That she could toss her career out the window and fall into his arms? The arms of a client, for crying out loud?

  She’d kept her focus solely on proving herself in her career since she was eighteen. She wasn’t going to let a little Texas charm turn her head now that she was on the cusp of proving herself. And saving him from a life behind bars.

  Looking straight ahead, she focused on the long, low apartment building. On the other side of a large paddock, another good-sized building that appeared to be more living quarters perched on top of a gentle swell of land. And if she turned around, she knew she’d see the roofline of the main house. “This place is like a mini city. How many people live here?”

  “Me, my daddy, my daddy’s nurse, Beatrice, my foreman, Gary and eight full-time hands, more during roundup. Daddy and Beatrice live in the house with me. The others live in the apartment building if they have families, and in the bunkhouse if they’re single or just here for roundup.”

  She looked at the low stretch of apartments. All the windows of the long building were dark. Except for the bark of a dog, the place was quiet as a tomb. “Is everyone gone?”

  “Don’t let the quiet fool you. After working from can’t see to can’t see, there’s not much a body wants to do most days but eat and fall into bed. Come sunrise, this place will be hopping.” He strode to the first apartment and rapped on the door. “Gary? You awake? I need a word with you.”

  No answer.

  Bart knocked again. Still nothing. Finally he turned away from the door and shrugged. “Old boy’s probably worn-out after doing my work today along with his own. And probably being raked over the coals by Hurley Zeller to boot. Guess we’ll have to wait for tomorrow. I’ll walk you back to your car.”

  They’d just circled the barn when Lindsey spotted her car. It lurched at a strange angle. As if the tires on one side were flat. “My car.”