Ann Voss Peterson: Legally Binding

“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 something, 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.”

Bart picked up his pace, long legs striding straight for the vehicle.

Lindsey half ran alongside to keep up. As they approached, her breath caught in her throat. Red spray paint slashed across the windshield and white hood, and dripped down like blood. Stay away from the murderer or die.