“Someone’s tampered with the car,” Tyler said.

If so—and the bastard had arrived on the scene before Tyler—Julia would have had more than harmless cattle to crack her whip at.

Julie’s first words to him had been to ask why he was following her. He’d taken the question as ludicrous, but for all he knew, some nefarious character had been tailing her.

His apprehension surged when he saw the note attached to the steering wheel. He squinted in the sunlight to make out the words.

In spite of the scribbled print, the message was clear.

Someone wanted Julie out of Mustang Run—or dead.

About the Author

JOANNA WAYNE was born and raised in Shreveport, Louisiana, and received her undergraduate and graduate degrees from LSU-Shreveport. She moved to New Orleans in 1984, and it was there that she attended her first writing class and joined her first professional writing organisation. Her debut novel, Deep in the Bayou, was published in 1994.

Now, dozens of published books later, Joanna has made a name for herself as being on the cutting edge of romantic suspense in both series and single-title novels. She has been on the Waldenbooks bestseller list for romance and has won many industry awards. She is also a popular speaker at writing organisations and local community functions and has taught creative writing at the University of New Orleans Metropolitan College.

Joanna currently resides in a small community forty miles north of Houston, Texas, with her husband. Though she still has many family and emotional ties to Louisiana, she loves living in the Lone Star State. You may write Joanna at PO Box 852, Montgomery, Texas 77356, USA.

Ak-Cowboy

Joanna Wayne

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

To my good friends Patsy and Hill. Hill for his law

enforcement expertise and willingness to share the

information. To Patsy for putting up with me on the

golf course when my mind is too convoluted with the

current manuscript for me to concentrate on the game.

Chapter One

Julie Gillespie checked her rearview mirror. There was no sign of the black car that she’d feared might be following her when she’d pulled onto this two-lane blacktop road a few miles back. The driver of the other car must have turned off on one of the dirt roads. Probably just a rancher rushing home to his cattle.

Paranoia was a bitch.

But New Orleans was behind her now and she was off and running on a new case, icy cold, but one that she was dead set on solving.

This was Julie’s first trip back to the Texas Hill Country in many years and she was already enchanted with the scenery. She knew about Lady Bird Johnson’s wildflower legacy, but she’d never imagined the roadside blooms would be so abundant.

There was only a scattering of orange, red and yellow in the late March mix. The Indian blankets, goldenrods, buttercups and countless others would come later, but the bluebonnets were profuse.

She rounded a curve and a sea of brilliant blue stretched out as far as she could see. The wind tousled the blossoms so that they looked like gently swaying ocean waves. A few heads of cattle grazed in the distance, adding a Texas perfection to the vista.

Julie lowered her window and breathed in the smell of clean air, flowery perfume and the scent of recent rain. Apparently she’d just missed a downpour that had left the road wet and the ditches filled with water. A bank of low clouds still hovered at the horizon, but there were patches of blue directly overhead.

She turned her attention back to the road as she topped a hill. Good move since an oncoming pickup truck had drifted across the yellow line and was crowding her lane.

She swerved to miss it and skidded onto the shoulder. Adrenaline fired through her as she fought the wheel and tried to pull her white Ford Fusion back onto the blacktop.

To no avail. She careened through a shallow ditch and slammed into a barbwire fence post as the guy who’d unwittingly caused the accident sped out of sight. What a jerk.

The wooden post toppled and the strands of knotted wire drooped almost to the ground. She groaned. Now she’d have fence repairs to pay for out of her meager savings.

Jerking the gear into Reverse, she gunned the engine. The back tires spun like crazy, throwing globs of mud behind her. The car refused to move. Could this get any worse?

She opened the door and stamped her way to the rear of the car for a close-up assessment of her situation as mud smeared her sandals and splattered her bare legs. No visible damage so far to the car, but she was clearly stuck.

She could call a tow truck or wait and see if some passing rancher in a heavy pickup would stop and pull her out of the mire. The second option would be a lot cheaper.

Waiting wouldn’t hurt—unless she was being followed. That seemed more unlikely by the minute. Any tail worth his salt would have caught up with her by now.

Still, once she’d checked the front of the car and discovered only a dented bumper, she climbed back inside and locked her doors. And just in case someone who looked suspicious stopped before the helpful rancher she needed, she got her cell phone ready to punch in 9-1-1.

When not one car had passed her in five minutes, Julie climbed out of the car, opened the trunk and retrieved her camera. If she was going to be stranded in what looked like paradise, she might as well capture the beauty.

Too bad she hadn’t worn jeans for traveling instead of her best white shorts and a bright blue scoop-necked T-shirt. Careful not to get scratched, she maneuvered her body over the barbwire, landing in the bluebonnet-covered pasture.

Adjusting her lens and aiming her camera, she began snapping photo after photo as she wandered the quiet pasture. Things were going swimmingly—until the horns of a ferocious-looking bull appeared in her viewfinder.

Her pulse skyrocketed. Her hands shook. She left the camera to swing on the cord around her neck as she raced back to the downed fence. She didn’t stop for breath until she was safely on the other side. Only there was nothing safe about it.

The bull was still heading in her direction, albeit slowly, and she doubted the downed fence would present any more challenge for him than it had for her. Kicking out of her sandals, she climbed onto the hood of the car and shouted warnings to the bull.

But the bull wasn’t coming to the fight alone. He was followed by reinforcements, none of which seemed fazed by her threats of what she’d do if they didn’t back off. Forced to pursue drastic measures, she yanked off her belt and started popping it like a whip at the approaching cattle.

She looked around for help. Not even a tractor in sight. She was on her own. And she’d thought looking for a killer might be dangerous.

SMOOTH, BUT DAMP SURFACE. Enough curves to keep it interesting. And no land mines or snipers waiting to sabotage him around the next turn. Roads in the Texas Hill Country were definitely a welcome change from the mountainous, Taliban-infested area of Afghanistan that Tyler Ledger had left three days ago.

That didn’t, however, eliminate the chance that he was about to encounter a fiery explosion just miles ahead. Tyler was on the verge of crashing head-on with his volatile past.

He had been only eight years old when the bottom had fallen out of his innocent world. It had started as a normal school day. It had ended in a tragedy beyond comprehension.

His mother was dead, shot three times and left in a pool of blood on the floor next to the rough stone hearth where he’d placed his boots to dry the night before.

That was just over eighteen years ago. The images from that day were seared into his brain. Beyond that, his boyhood on the ranch was pretty much a blur. Even the memories of his mother were mostly from stories his grandmother had told him before she’d died and from things his brothers had said when they’d gotten together over the years.

He’d been raised by one of his mother’s aunts, a stern woman with a brow puckered from a lifetime of scowls. Aunt Sibley had lost her husband and her only daughter in a boating accident years before she took him in and the grief had turned her insides to sour mush.

She did her best with Tyler, though she never let him forget the sacrifice she was making to feed and clothe him. Her main priority seemed to be her constant reminders that if he didn’t expect too much from life, he wouldn’t be disappointed. The logic of that philosophy had resonated with him even though his aunt’s unyielding, humorless ways hadn’t.

Which was one reason why he wasn’t counting on much to come from this trip to Mustang Run and the Willow Creek Ranch. The other thing his aunt had preached to him was that his father was a heartless beast who’d killed his wife and the mother of his five sons. And this was the father Tyler was on his way to see for the first time since Troy Ledger had been sentenced to life in prison.

Now Troy was out on a technicality and still insisting he was innocent. Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. If he was guilty, he could rot in hell for all Tyler cared.

But two of Tyler’s brothers were now totally convinced their father was not only innocent, but a man of honor.

Sure he was. So honorable he’d forgotten he had sons until he needed them again.

Tyler wasn’t looking for a father eighteen years after the fact, he just wanted to get a handle on where he’d come from. Examine his roots. Walk the ranch where he’d spent the first eight years of his life.

Reconnecting with his brothers Sean and Dylan would be an added bonus, but he wasn’t even sure that would turn out well. He had his life figured out. Work hard. Play hard. Fight hard. And don’t trust anyone enough to let them get close to you.

Those simple rules had served him well.

Which is why he should have gone to Vegas or to spring break with a bunch of college coeds in wet T-shirts instead of to the Texas Hill Country. He really needed this vacation.

War was hell. He’d been fighting hard. Now he needed to play with that same fervor.

But he was here. He might as well try to enjoy the scenery and the…

Entertainment!

Tyler burst into laughter in spite of his mood and slowed to enjoy the view as he pulled onto the shoulder. He came to a stop a few feet from a ditched car with the hottest, whip-cracking hood ornament he’d ever seen.

Now he was talking vacation.

Chapter Two

Julie watched the black car pull to a stop on the shoulder a few yards behind her. Paranoia surged again. The car could be the same one that she’d thought was following her earlier. Even the front grill looked familiar.

She looked back at the bulls. One was nudging the fence. Two others had stuck their heads over the top of the downed wire to taste some tall weedy stems. Probably building energy for their attack.

The car door opened and a man stepped out and onto a high, dry spot with no mud to smudge his spotless boots. He looked muscled, rock hard—and gorgeous. He also looked too much the cowboy to be one of the New Orleans thugs that she’d feared might still be looking for her.

Julie stared warily as he approached.

The cowboy tipped his hat and grinned, a kind of half smile that would have made her fall into immediate lust under ordinary conditions.

“Most people use the gate,” he teased.

“Now why didn’t I think of that?” After a quick look back at the dangerous livestock, she stared him down. “Are you following me?”

“No, but I would have if I’d known it was show-time.”

He was clearly fighting to keep from laughing.

“There’s nothing funny about my situation. If you were any kind of gentleman at all, you’d be running off the bulls instead of standing there making wisecracks.”

“Bulls?”

“Yes, bulls.” She pointed at the animals to make her point. “Can’t you see those horns?”

His smile took over his face. “They’re Texas longhorns. Two of them are steers. One’s a heifer. No bulls in sight.”

“Bulls, steers, what’s the difference?”

“Don’t let the steers hear you say that.” He walked over and herded the animals away from the fence. Then, picking up the downed post, he righted it and twisted it back into the hole it had been knocked out of. The muscles in his arms flexed impressively as he worked.

“That should keep the wild beasts at bay. Name’s Tyler,” the cowboy said, extending a hand to help her off the hood of the car.

“I’m Julie,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to check out the horned cattle. “How do you know the fence will hold?”

“I figure if it doesn’t, I can always get you to crack your whip a few times and protect us.”

The blush climbed to her cheek. She ignored his hand and slid off the front fender of the car on her own.

He walked around to study the back wheels and the hole she’d dug herself into while revving the engine.

She joined him, all too aware of the mud that was drying in mottled streaks from her knees to her toes. “I’ll need to call a tow truck.”

“Why bother? I suspect every rancher around here has a truck heavy enough to pull you from the ditch.”

“Does that include you?”

“No. All I have is the rented car you see. I’m on vacation.”

“Oh, so you’re only a fake cowboy.”

“You could say that. Where are you heading?”

“To Willow Creek Ranch.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’m going to see Troy Ledger,” she admitted. “Have you ever heard of him?”

“Isn’t he the man who went to prison for murdering his wife?”

“That’s the one.”

“In that case, why don’t I give you a lift there and you can get him to pull your car from the ditch?”

“I’m not sure he’ll be willing to help me, but I would appreciate the lift.”

“Why wouldn’t he help you?”

“We’ve never met, and he didn’t invite me.”

“Then by all means, I should give you a lift. I wouldn’t want to miss the surprise party.”

“Okay, but first I need to get my things from the car. I have material in there that I wouldn’t want to fall into the wrong hands.”

“Sounds intriguing.”

“It is, but it’s nothing you’ll want to get involved in.”

“Risky business?” he asked.

“It could turn out to be quite dangerous,” she said. That should keep him from making fun of her—and it was also true. “So you’ll just want to drop me off at Willow Creek Ranch and be on your way.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

TYLER FOLLOWED THE DIRECTIONS Julie gave him for driving to the ranch where he’d been heading all along. He considered telling her his last name, but decided the conversation would likely be far more interesting if she continued to think he was merely a vacationing stranger.

Not to mention that she hadn’t offered her last name and was hinting of mysterious secrets.

She was fascinating. The girl-next-door type, if you were lucky enough to have a neighbor with a to-die-for body. He’d never been.

But the body wasn’t nearly all she had going for her. There was the cute turned-up nose, full, enticing lips, hay-colored hair pulled into a ponytail that bounced with every move of her head. And not to be shortchanged was the endearing blush when she was the least bit embarrassed and the most expressive blue eyes he’d ever seen.

“How did you choose this part of Texas for a vacation?” she asked.

“I lived here, years ago.”

“Where do you live now?” she asked.

“Mostly in Afghanistan for the last four years. I’m in the army.”

“From what I hear on the news, it’s incredibly dangerous in Afghanistan now.”

“It’s no picnic in a field of bluebonnets,” he teased.

“Ha ha.”

“Sorry, but that was some scene back there.”

“Get over it. Are you back in the States for good?”

“Afraid not.” Tyler decided it was time for a few questions of his own. “Why didn’t you let Troy Ledger know you were coming?”

“I was afraid he wouldn’t see me since I want to question him about his wife’s death.”

“Can’t say that I’d blame him.”

“Yes, but actually, I’m even more interested in the murder of Muriel Frost. She was about the same age as Helene Ledger and murdered in a similar manner in a neighboring county just six months before Helene was killed.”

“Do you think Troy Ledger killed both women?”

“It’s possible, but judging from the way he’s been looking for Helene Ledger’s killer, my gut instinct is that he didn’t kill either one.”

“A jury convicted him,” Tyler reminded her, the way his aunt and grandparents had reminded him countless times over the years.

“Innocent men go to jail all the time.” She turned to face him, talking as much with her hands as her mouth. “You see the thing is, Troy Ledger was convicted almost entirely on circumstantial evidence. I mean, sure, Helene Ledger was shot with his gun, but anyone could have found the gun in the bedroom and then shot her with it.”

“Circumstantial evidence can still be accurate and anyone can claim to be looking for his wife’s murderer.”

“Yes, but Troy Ledger was a model citizen, at least he had been ever since marrying Helene. Before that, he was a bit of a maverick—drinking, partying and riding the local rodeo circuits. But that’s what youth is for.”

“Does that mean you’ve sown a few wild bales of hay?”

Julie struck a defiant pose. “I’ve been around.”

Tyler seriously doubted that. She was much too innocent looking. “Guess that’s where you learned the Indiana Jones routine,” he teased.

But the mood between them grew more serious as he made the turnoff to the ranch. “Why are you so interested in old murders?” Tyler asked. “You don’t look like a detective.”

“I’m an investigative reporter.”

Tyler let out a low whistle. “No wonder you don’t think Troy Ledger will welcome you with open arms.”

Tyler stopped at the entrance to the ranch and stared at the weathered, wooden sign above the old iron gate. Willow Creek Ranch.

Haunting memories attacked, bringing things to the forefront of his mind that he hadn’t thought of in years. The smell of chicken frying in the skillet atop the gas range. The family gathered at the big dining room table. His mother’s voice singing along with the radio.

The tears in his father’s eyes when Troy had been literally ripped from his arms on the night his father had been arrested. And that was pretty much the last time Troy had acted like a dad.

Tyler pushed the troubling images from his mind. Forget the past. In minutes, the present would become an arsenal of weapons all firing in his direction with no visible means of escape.

Tyler was home, yet even the hard, rocky ground of the war zone had never felt so alien.

JULIE CLOSED AND LATCHED the squeaky gate and then hopped back into the front seat beside Tyler. An unexpected rush of uneasiness churned in her stomach as they bumped along the hard dirt road. Either the ranch itself put off eerie vibes, or Julie was not nearly as undaunted by the prospect of coming face-to-face with Troy Ledger as she’d tried to convince herself.

“They say the Ledger ranch house is haunted,” she said.

Tyler continued to stare straight ahead without bothering to respond. She started to say more, but his demeanor had changed. His fingers wound tightly around the steering wheel and his neck and facial muscles were taut.

“If you don’t like the idea of visiting a convicted killer, you can just drop me off here and you can turn around and leave,” she said.

“Too late for that.”

His tone was brusque, but he seemed so lost in his own world that she wasn’t even sure the words were meant for her. Her feelings of anxiety swelled. Now not only was she on an isolated ranch with a convicted killer but with a stranger who demonstrated drastic mood changes.

He could have post-traumatic stress disorder. She’d heard that was common with military personnel just home from the battlefront.

Julie understood trauma. She’d lived through her share of it. A few short weeks ago, she’d fully expected to be sleeping with the fishes in Lake Pontchartrain. Surviving that had given her the courage to take on her current task.

She spotted the roofline of the Ledger house first, jutting over the tops of the low trees that surrounded it. The full house didn’t come into view until they rounded the last curve and pulled up the gravel drive.

The house where Helene Ledger had been murdered in cold blood in the middle of the day. Killed by three shots fired at close range when any one of them could have ended her life. The mother of five young boys, loved by everyone in the community, all but worshipped by her parents.

The hairs on the back of Julie’s neck stood on end as they stopped in front of the house. The claims that Helene’s ghost still haunted the place drew vivid images in her mind. She could all but see the woman in white standing at the window, waving for help, just as the locals described her.

Julie took a deep breath and opened her door. She was not a believer in ghosts. Even if they existed, she imagined dead people had better things to do than hang around tormenting people they’d probably never liked anyway or grieving those they’d loved and been loved by.

If people had seen anything at all here while Troy was in prison, it was likely shadows from the mulberry tree that grew next to the house or from the nearby cluster of squatty mesquites.

Before she could thank Tyler for the ride, he had opened his own door and was already sliding from beneath the wheel.

“You don’t have to stay,” she assured him.

“Actually, I do.”

“Suit yourself.” She walked in front of him, climbed the steps quickly and was about to ring the doorbell when heavy boots clomped through the wet grass to her left.

Troy Ledger rounded the side of the house and stopped a few feet from the freshly painted wooden steps. She knew it was him from photographs she’d seen, one taken as recently as a few months ago.

It had appeared along with pictures of this house in some paranormal magazine called Beyond the Grave. Julie had found the article while doing her research on Troy Ledger.

And here he was, a few feet from her. Tall. Thinning brown hair with touches of gray. Gaunt, with a jagged scar that ran down the right side of his face.

She started to speak, but Troy was staring at the cowboy who stood a few feet behind her.

“Tyler.” Troy’s gruff voice cracked on the name.

“Yeah. It’s me.”

The tension between the two men left no doubt that they were not strangers.

And once again, she had talked far too much.

Chapter Three

A choking lump in his chest all but cut off Troy’s ability to breathe. Tyler was standing a few feet in front of him. Tyler, his daredevil son who had tried Helene’s patience with his tough and mischievous ways. Tyler who had followed Troy around like a shadow from the day he took his first steps.

Not one or two awkward steps in the beginning, the way their other sons had learned to walk. No, Tyler had stood and waddled all the way across the kitchen to grab Troy’s leg before he stepped out the back door. Troy had swung him into his arms and taken him with him to the barn.

At two, when Tyler should have been content riding his jump horse, he’d begged to ride the biggest horse they had. At four, he’d kept up with his older brothers and mimicked all their antics while swinging from the rope at the swimming hole. At six, he’d broken his arm while trying to rescue a kitten from the top of an oak tree. At eight…

He stopped himself before he dropped into the abyss.

“Good to see you, son.”

“I guess I should have called.”

“No reason to, except that I might not have been struck speechless.”

“So my showing up like this is not an inconvenience?”

“It’s…” Troy searched for the right words and settled on the truth. “I’ve been waiting for this day.” He climbed the steps and joined Tyler and his lady friend on the porch, awkward and embarrassed by the onslaught of emotions that were tearing around inside him like crazed cats.

He’d love to hug his son, but the man staring back at him with the piercing brown eyes seemed all but untouchable.

Tyler rocked back on his heels and looked around. “Ranch looked good when I was driving in.”

“Dylan gets a lot of credit for that. He’s running the ranch with me. Fact is, he did it all for the first few weeks after my heart attack. Sean helped, too, until he moved out.”

“I heard Sean bought his own spread,” Tyler said.

“Yeah.” Troy wondered if Dylan and Sean knew Tyler was planning this visit. If so, they’d kept it quiet.

“Sean started a horse farm over in Bandera.”

“How is that working out for him?”

“Good. He’s got lots of plans, but he’s getting so many calls to work with and train other folks’ horses, he hardly has time to work with his own. Did you hear he got married?”

Tyler nodded. “Both him and Dylan.”

“Right. You have two new sisters-in-law and a step nephew. Family’s growing. Do Sean and Dylan know you’re here?”

“No. I thought I’d just surprise all of you.”

“You definitely did that.”

The silence grew awkward. Troy turned his attention to the woman standing next to Tyler. Nice looking. About Tyler’s age, or maybe younger. No wedding band.

“I’m Julie,” the woman said.

“And I’m Troy Ledger. Glad to have you.”

“I hate to intrude this way.”

“You’re not intruding at all. Any friend of Tyler’s is welcome here anytime.”

“Actually, I only met her a few minutes ago,” Tyler said. “I just gave her a lift. She’s here to see you.”

Troy saw the look that passed between Julie and Tyler, but he couldn’t read it. Could be attraction. Might just be tension that had to do with why she was here to see him. If so, he probably wasn’t going to enjoy the encounter with her. Nonetheless, he wouldn’t let her ruin this moment with Tyler for him.

“Why don’t we go inside,” Troy offered. “It will be easier to talk in there.”

He opened the unlocked door and followed them inside. Tyler had changed a lot but somewhere inside, there had to be a trace of the boy Troy remembered. Hopefully they’d reconnect soon and then he’d feel comfortable clapping him on the back or giving him a fatherly punch to the arm or a quick hug.

But not yet. The past separated them as surely as if they’d been carved apart by a hunter’s knife.

ONCE TYLER ENTERED THE HOUSE, images seemed to seep from the walls themselves. He and his brothers constructing elaborate Star Wars sets out of Legos that stretched across the entire family room. Watching Scooby-Doo with his brothers while sitting on that same old leather sofa. It was amazing that it had survived when so little from his old life hadn’t.

Tyler stopped and stared out the window just behind the pine end table. He’d once hit a baseball through that top right pane. He’d dreaded what would happen when his dad came home. But instead of being punished, Troy had been impressed with the hit that had sent the ball sailing over the hedges and mesquite trees and all the way to the house.

So many good memories overshadowed by the horrifying one. A sick, hollow sensation rolled in the pit of Tyler’s stomach as they passed the stone hearth.

His brothers Sean and Dylan had found a way to merge the past with the present and face that reality every day. Tyler was pretty sure that he never could, though he’d been younger than them at the time of his mother’s death. Out of the five sons, only Dakota was younger.

Fortunately, Troy led them straight to the kitchen. He got cold beers for himself and Tyler. Julie opted for water.

“So exactly how did you two hook up?” Troy asked.

Julie explained how her car got stuck when she was forced off the road by a truck that had swerved into her lane. She left out the best part. There was no mention of the whip.

“And the first person to stop was Tyler,” Troy said, once she’d finished her animated description. “Strange, fortunate coincidence, considering you were both on your way to Willow Creek Ranch.”

“It was, especially when Tyler failed to mention he was your son.” She shot Tyler a quick, accusing glance before turning her attention back to his father. “I’m really glad for this chance to talk to you.”

“Then we should get down to brass tacks,” Troy said. “But I should warn you that if you’re a reporter, I’ll call you a tow truck and send you on your way.”

Undaunted, Julie took a sip of her water, wiped the condensation from her glass with the napkin Troy had provided and smiled as if she were about to hand him a check from Publishers Clearing House.

“I’m an investigative reporter, but you’re not the subject of the investigation.”

“So why come here to talk to me?”

“Because I know that you’ve been covering some of the same ground I have.”

“How would you know that?”

“Word gets around and you’ve made no secret of the fact that you’re actively searching for your wife’s killer.”

Troy rubbed his jaw. “Go on.”

“I’m investigating the murder of Muriel Frost,” Julie explained. “Have you heard of her?”

Troy’s brow furrowed. “Yeah. She was murdered six months before Helene. What of it?”

“I’m hoping you’ll share what you’ve learned with me. Frankly, I can use all the help I can get. A case this cold won’t be easy to solve.”

“You’re right about that. The people who want to talk don’t know anything. The people with information won’t talk.”

Tyler studied Troy. His expression gave nothing away, but the deep grooves around his eyes and mouth and the jagged scar did. His years in prison had killed all signs of the young, energetic father who used to outrun, outride and outswim all of them.

“So what got you interested in the Frost murder case, being as it’s icy cold.”

“It remains unsolved.”

“So do lots of more prominent murder cases.”

“Actually, you’re partly to blame,” she admitted. “You made news when you were released on a technicality and again when one of your fellow inmates escaped and went after the former prison psychiatrist you were protecting.”

“Eve. She’s my daughter-in-law now.”

“I know. She married your son Sean.”

“You have done your homework. I still think you’re going to have your work cut out for you. That’s over in Llano county, and Sheriff Caleb Grayson is very protective when it comes to anything that falls under his jurisdiction.”

“He’s a public servant. And Muriel Frost deserves the same justice everyone else is entitled to.”

“And you’re out to get it for them? That’s a pretty big order.”

“I can’t get it for everyone, obviously, but I can start with Muriel Frost.”

“Sounds admirable, but if you’re here because you think I had anything to do with killing my wife or Muriel Frost, you’re wasting your time and mine.”

The guy was no easy sale, Tyler concluded. Definitely not a pushover for a cute face and hot body. Or maybe he was. She’d admitted to being a reporter and his dad hadn’t ushered Julie to the door.

Julie crossed her mud-splattered legs. “Like I said, I’d just like to collaborate a bit. But in all fairness, if I find out you did kill either one of them, I’ll come after you with everything I’ve got.”

Troy rubbed his chin and stared into space. About the time Tyler figured the interview was over, Troy began to nod.

“Fair enough,” Troy said. “Tyler and I will get your car out of the ditch. Then we’ll set a time to meet and share notes. Are you staying here in Mustang Run?”

“If there’s a cheap motel.”

“Not one I’d recommend,” Troy said. “You can stay here a couple nights if you want. There’s plenty of room. Nothing fancy.”

Julie glanced at Tyler as if expecting him to protest.

“The more the merrier,” he said, not completely sure it would work out that way. But at least with Julie around, he wouldn’t be forced into nothing but awkward moments between him and a father who’d become a total stranger.

“I’ll get your luggage and confidential material out of my trunk,” Tyler offered.

Julie followed him to the car. When they reached it, she grabbed the heaviest piece of luggage as if asserting her independence. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were one of Troy Ledger’s sons?”

“You didn’t ask.”

“Will my staying here bother you?”

“All depends on what you mean by bother.”

“Then just tough it out,” she stammered, getting his point and turning away as one of those disarming blushes turned her cheeks an enticing red.

She bothered him plenty already, and for more reasons than the obvious. For one, she didn’t look or seem like a hardened investigative reporter. Nor did he think she was totally convinced Troy was innocent.

But then, neither was Tyler.

JULIE ACCEPTED TROY’S invitation to stay at the house and unpack while they went for her car. Which meant the inevitable one-on-one father-son encounter could be put off no longer. The awkwardness was not only tangible when Tyler crawled into the front seat of Troy’s new double cab white, pickup truck, it was as solid and impenetrable as a cement wall.

The silence hovered until they’d rumbled over the cattle gap and left the ranch.

“We need to let Sean and Dylan know you’re here,” Troy said. “They’ll want to get together right away.”

“I’ll give them a call once we get Julie’s car out of the ditch,” Tyler promised.

“Good idea.”

They passed a truck pulling a horse trailer. Troy gave a two-fingered wave without lifting his hand from the steering wheel. “That’s Everett Wilson. He’s one of the unrelenting and unforgiving, crosses the street to keep from speaking to me if our paths are about to intersect in town.”

“Yet you waved at him,” Tyler noted.

“Only because I know it irritates him.”

The perfect opening for the question that preyed on Tyler’s mind. “Why did you return to Mustang Run when you were released from prison?”

“It’s home. And it seemed the best place for doing what I have to do.”

“To prove you’re tougher than your critics?”

When Troy didn’t respond to the question, Tyler turned and studied his profile. The muscles in Troy’s neck were strained, his gaze straight ahead as if he were staring down a tank—or a ghost.

“I came back to find your mother’s killer.”

The tone was so defiant that the words were guttural. They ground inside Tyler like grit. Did his father really think that uttering those few words would make a difference?

“I didn’t kill your mother, Tyler. Whether or not you believe me is up to you. I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life, but I won’t cower in guilt for something I didn’t do.”

After a few minutes of silence, Troy visibly relaxed his grip on the wheel and glanced toward Tyler. “I didn’t mean to come at you like that. You have a right to answers.”

Tyler nodded. “I obviously hit a sore spot, but I didn’t come back to start a fight.” At least he didn’t think he had.

“What made you decide to visit? Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled you’re here. It’s that you don’t seem that excited about it.”

“Dylan and Sean sounded so optimistic that I guess I had to see where I fit in this new family scheme of things.”

“Where you’ve always fit. You’re my son,” Troy said. “You’re Helene’s son. You’re a Ledger.”

Right, whether he liked it or not.

“I tried to get in touch with all you boys when I was in prison,” Troy said. “Your grandparents got a court order forbidding it.”

“I know. Dylan told me.” And that had been fine with Tyler.

“Can we just drop this for now?” Tyler said, sorry he’d ever brought it up.

“Sometimes it’s better to get everything out in the open,” Troy said. “Clears the air. Makes it easier to move on.”

“Maybe,” Tyler muttered. But he wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready to move on if that meant just swallowing whatever his dad piled on the plate.

Talk ceased until the ditched car came into view. Troy slowed and swerved into a U-turn after they’d topped the hill and reached a straight stretch of road. He parked on the shoulder and turned on his emergency lights.

Tyler stepped out of the truck and walked straight to Julie’s car. His father stopped to study the tire tracks.

“Lucky she slowed before she veered into the ditch. If she’d slammed into that fence post at the same speed she’d left the highway she could have been seriously injured.”

“The mud slowed her down,” Tyler said, pointing at the grooves her tires had dug into the wet earth.

“Yeah, we had a gully washer about midnight last night. Rain didn’t last long, but the thunder rumbled for hours. And then we had a couple of quick showers today.”

“Julie hit the post hard enough to knock it over. I righted it, but it probably needs to be reset,” Tyler said, remembering the sight that had captured his attention.

Gorgeous, albeit muddy legs. Slim hips. Perky breasts. Dancing ponytail. Whip-cracking action. A surprise tightening in his groin shocked him back to the situation at hand.

“This is Bob Adkins’ spread,” Troy said. “I’ll let him know so that he can check it out. He’ll be surprised to hear you’re in town. Probably stop by first chance he gets.”

“Should I know Bob Adkins?”

“Probably not, but he remembers all you boys. He’s a good man. Honest. Hardworking. Church goer. The kind of friend who doesn’t tuck tail and run at the first sign of trouble. He’s one of the few who stood by me through it all. Him and Able Drake.”

Convicted of murdering your wife was a hell of a lot more than a sign of trouble. “Who’s Able Drake?”

“A good friend from way back. He had his troubles then, but he turned his life around. And he’s stood by me all the way, even spruced up the old ranch house before I got here. Surprised me with this new truck the day I was released.”

“Hell of a friend,” Tyler agreed. He jumped the ditch to reach the driver-side door of Julie’s car. Surprisingly, it was ajar, though he knew it had not only been closed but locked when they drove away.

“Someone’s tampered with the car,” he said.

“Probably looking for something to steal,” Troy said. “Times are changing, even in this part of Texas.”

Or else someone had been specifically looking for the material she’d had him load into his rental car. Her first words to him had been to ask why he was following her. He’d taken the question as ludicrous, but for all he knew, some nefarious character had been tailing her.

If so and the bastard had arrived on the scene before Tyler, she’d have had more than harmless cattle to crack her whip at. His apprehension surged when he saw the note attached to the steering wheel. He squinted in the sunlight to make out the words.

In spite of the scribbled print, the message was clear.

Someone wanted Julie out of Mustang Run—or dead.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.