Rita Herron - Roping Ray Mccullen

Scarlet sucked in a harsh breath. “No. It wasn’t like that, Ray. I met him at The Family Farm outside Laramie.”

“The Family Farm?”

Scarlet nodded. “It’s a home for children without parents, an orphanage. Your father volunteered there. I was ten at the time we met, but he took me under his wing.”

For a moment, Ray couldn’t respond. “I find it hard to imagine my father volunteering with children,” he finally said. “He was a rancher. He worked the land.”

Scarlet shrugged. “He told me once that he had to find a way to atone for his sins. That he hadn’t always been the father he wanted to be, and he hoped giving back to some children without families would help make up for it.”

Ray’s dark gaze met hers, probing, skeptical. “He told you about Horseshoe Creek? About us?”

“Yes,” Scarlet said softly. “He loved you and Maddox and Brett. He was proud of all of you.”

Ray chuckled, but the sound was filled with sarcasm. “He was proud of Maddox. And maybe Brett because of the bull riding. But he didn’t give a damn about me.”

“That’s not true,” Scarlet said. “He loved you and hated what he did to you. That you knew his flaws.”

“That I did.” Ray made no attempt to hide his animosity. “He cheated on my mother with some woman named Barbara. But my mother loved him anyway.”

Scarlet looked away for a second, which made him even more uneasy.

Her fingers tightened around the strap of that worn-out shoulder bag. “I’m sorry, Ray, I didn’t come here to dredge up bad memories.”

“My father just died, Scarlet. Coming home already did that.” He exhaled. “So why did you come here? To tell me Dad did volunteer work?”

“Not just that, but to tell you what he did for me. I was alone and no one wanted to adopt me. But he gave me a home and a family.”

A bead of perspiration trickled down Ray’s neck. “What are you talking about?”

“He took me home to live with Barbara and Bobby. Their last name is Lowman.”

“You lived with my father’s mistress?”

She nodded. “For a while. With her and her son.” She hesitated. “Their son.”

Her words echoed in Ray’s mind as if he’d fallen into a wind tunnel. “Their son?”

Scarlet nodded. “I’m sorry. I...thought he was going to tell you about Bobby before he passed.”

A deep sense of betrayal cut through Ray, and he balled his hands into fists. He wanted to punch something.

He had known about the affair, but not that his father had another son.

* * *

SCARLET’S HEART SQUEEZED at the pain and shock on Ray’s face. She didn’t want to hurt this family, only to honor Joe’s last wishes.

Ray raked a hand through his thick, dark hair, then walked over to the bar and poured himself another shot. He kept his back to her as he stared into the fire, his shoulders rigid.

She glanced around the living room, absorbing its warmth, giving Ray time to process what she’d told him.

She tried to put herself in his place, to understand how he must feel. Her grief over Joe’s death was almost unbearable, and she wasn’t even Joe’s biological family.

She’d always looked up to Joe for the time he’d donated to the children’s home, and had secretly hoped to meet his sons one day, sons that he took pride in and had talked about when Bobby wasn’t around.

Joe and Bobby had a tumultuous relationship. Barbara and Joe had kept an on-again-off-again relationship over the years, but Joe had never married Barbara. He’d also been in and out of Bobby’s life, partly by choice, partly due to Barbara’s moody behavior.

But Joe had admitted to Scarlet once that he’d always loved his wife. No one could ever replace her.

In some ways, Bobby had a right to resent Ray, Maddox and Brett. Although Joe had financially supported him and Barbara, he’d never taken them to his ranch. Even after he lost his wife, he hadn’t shared Bobby with his other three sons.

“So I have a half brother?” Finally Ray turned toward her, a harshness in his eyes. “How old is he?”

“Twenty-six,” Scarlet said.

“Just a little younger than me,” Ray muttered. “Damn my daddy. Even in death, he found a way to screw us.”

“I’m sorry, Ray.” Scarlet fidgeted. “I know this is a shock. Maybe I shouldn’t have come, but—”

“But you did come,” Ray snapped. “Because you and Bobby want something? What? Part of Daddy’s money? The ranch?”

Scarlet flinched at his accusatory tone. Although she reminded herself that she’d just dropped a bombshell on Ray at a time when he was grieving. Lashing out was a natural reaction.

But Joe McCullen’s words in that heartfelt letter echoed in her head. She had loved Joe, and even though he’d made mistakes in his life, he’d cared about her.

Ray must have read her silence as a yes. “That’s it, isn’t it? You want part of Horseshoe Creek?”

“Ray, please,” Scarlet said, her voice quivering. “It’s not like that.”

Ray’s jaw tightened. “Then how is it? You simply came to tell me you’re sorry my father is gone? That he has another son, but that he doesn’t want part of Dad’s legacy?”

Actually Bobby would want part of it. And Joe had made arrangements for him, only there were stipulations attached to it. She didn’t know what those stipulations entailed, but whatever they were, Bobby would balk.

“I won’t lie to you, Ray. I am here because your father left me something.” She pulled the letter from her bag. “I had no idea he’d included me or Bobby in his will, but he did. A lawyer named Bush contacted me about the reading.”

“Just as I thought,” Ray said, animosity dripping from every word.

Self-preservation kicked in. “Listen, Ray, I didn’t ask for this. And I don’t think Bobby even knows yet. He and Joe didn’t get along, and Bobby’s had problems in the past, so I don’t know what to expect from him now.” She shoved the letter toward Ray. “Just read this letter your father wrote me.”

Ray’s dark gaze latched with hers, tension stretching between them, filled with distrust.

Her hand trembled as she waited for Ray to take the letter. When he snatched it, she finally released the breath she’d been holding, sank back in the chair and struggled to calm her nerves.

But the sight of Ray’s big, tough masculine profile haloed by the orange-and-yellow firelight aroused feminine desires that she’d never felt. Desires that she had no right to feel for the man in front of her.

Desires that couldn’t lead to anything.

But something about his strong jaw, that heavy five o’clock shadow and the intensity in his eyes reminded her of Joe. Joe, the man who’d been like a father to her.

Joe who’d sent her here to meet his sons.

She clutched her drink glass again and sipped it. The warm scotch slid down her throat, warming her. Yet the alcohol also reminded her of Joe.

Why had he put her in this awkward position?

He had to have known that Ray and his brothers wouldn’t welcome her or want to share any part of their family ranch. That they would be angry, and that the truth would turn their world upside down.

* * *

RAY LEANED AGAINST the hearth as he studied the paper Scarlet had handed him. It appeared to be a handwritten letter to her.

In his father’s handwriting.

My dearest Scarlet,

I was blessed to have sons. But I never had a daughter—until I met you.

That first line knocked the breath from his lungs. But he forced himself to read further.

By the time he finished, his gut was churning. These were his father’s words. His father’s sentiments.

Betrayal splintered through him.

Scarlet wasn’t lying. His father had loved her, had lead a life that he’d kept from his sons.