Chapter Two

  Sundown Ranch

  Asa McCall heard the creak of a floorboard. He turned to find his wife standing in the tack room doorway. His wife. After so many years of being apart, the words sounded strange.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Shelby asked, worry making her eyes dark.

  “I’m saddling my horse,” he said as he hefted the saddle and walked over to the horse. The motion took more effort than it had even a few weeks ago. He hoped she hadn’t noticed, but then Shelby noticed everything.

  “I can see that,” she said, irritation in her tone as she followed him.

  Shelby Ward McCall was as beautiful as the day he’d met her forty-four years ago. She was tall and slim, blond and blue-eyed, but her looks had never impressed him as much as her strength. They both knew she’d always been stronger than he was, even though he was twice her size—a large, powerfully built man with more weaknesses than she would ever have.

  He wondered now if that—and the fact that they both knew it—had been one of the reasons she’d left him thirty years ago. He knew damn well it was the reason she had come back.

  “I’m going for a ride,” he said, his back to her as he cinched the saddle in place, already winded by the physical exertion. He was instantly angry at himself. He despised frailty, especially in himself. He’d always been strong, virile, his word the last. He’d never been physically weak before, and he found that nearly impossible to live with.

  “Asa—” Her voice broke.

  “Don’t,” he said shaking his head slightly, but even that small movement made him nauseous. “I need to do this.” He hated the emotion in his voice. Hated that she’d come back to see him like this.

  Shelby looked away. She knew he wouldn’t want her to see how pathetic he’d become. He wished he could hide not only his weakness but his feelings from her, but that was impossible. Shelby knew him with an intimacy that had scared him. As if she could see into his black soul and still find hope for him. Still love him.

  “I could come with you,” she said without looking at him.

  “No, thank you,” he added, relieved when she didn’t argue the point. He didn’t need a lecture on how dangerous it was for him to go riding alone. He had hoped to die in the saddle. He should be so lucky.

  He swung awkwardly up onto the horse, giving her a final look, realizing how final it would soon be. He never tired of looking at her and just the thought of how many years he’d pushed her away from him brought tears to his eyes. He’d become a doddering sentimental old fool on top of everything else. He spurred the horse and rode past her and out of the barn, despising himself.

  At the gate, something stronger than even his will forced him to turn and look back. She was slumped against the barn wall, shoulders hunched, head down.

  He cursed her for coming back after all the years they’d lived apart and spurred his horse. Cursed himself. As he rode up through the foothills of the ranch his father had started from nothing more than a scrawny herd of longhorn cattle over a hundred years ago, he was stricken with a pain far greater than any he had yet endured.

  His agony was about to end, but it had only begun for his family. He would have to tell them everything.

  He tried not to think about what his sons and daughter would say when he told them that years ago, he’d sold his soul to the devil, and the devil was now at his door, ready to collect in more ways than one.

  J.T., his oldest, would be furious; Rourke would be disappointed; Cash would try to help, as always; and Brandon possibly would be relieved to find that his father was human after all. Dusty, his precious daughter, the heart of his heart… Asa closed his eyes at the thought of what it would do to her.

  He would have to tell them soon. He might be weak in body and often spirit, but he refused to be a coward. He couldn’t let them find out everything after he was gone. Not when what he’d done would put an end to the Sundown Ranch as they all knew it.

  Sheridan, Wyoming, rodeo

  IT WAS FULL DARK and the rodeo was almost over by the time Ty Coltrane made his way along the packed grandstands.

  He’d timed it so he could catch the bull riding. No one he’d talked to had seen Clayton, nor had there been any word. But Ty knew that if Clayton was anywhere within a hundred-mile radius, he wouldn’t miss tonight’s rodeo.

  Glancing around before the event started, though, he didn’t see the old bull rider. He did, however, see Dusty McCall and her friend, Leticia Arnold, sitting close to the arena fence.

  Dusty didn’t look the worse for wear after her bucking bronc performance earlier today. He shook his head at the memory, telling himself he was tired of playing nursemaid to her. She wasn’t his responsibility. He couldn’t keep picking her up from the dirt. What if one day he wasn’t around to save her skinny behind?

  “Now in chute three, we’ve got a bull that’s been making a stir across the country,” the announcer bellowed over the sound system. “He’s called Devil’s Tornado and for a darned good reason. Only a few cowboys have been able to ride him, and those who have scored big. Tonight, Huck Kramer out of Cheyenne is going to give it a try.”

  Ty felt a start. Devil’s Tornado. That was the bull that Clayton had been so worked up over. Ty was sure of it. He angled his way through the crowd so he could see the bull chutes as he tried to recall what exactly Clayton had said about the bull.

  Devil’s Tornado banged around inside the chute as Huck lowered himself onto it to the jangle of the cowbell attached to his rosin-coated bull rope. The cowbell acted as a weight, allowing the rope to safely fall off the bull when the ride was over. Riders used rosin, a sticky substance that increased the grip on their ropes, to make sure they were secured to the bull in hopes of hanging on for the eight-second horn.

  Huck wrapped the end of the bull rope tightly around his gloved hand, securing himself to the one-ton bull. Around the bull was a bucking rigging, a padded strap that was designed to make the bull buck.

  A hush fell over the crowd as the bull snorted and kicked at the chute, growing more agitated. Huck gave a nod of his head and the chute door flew open with a bang and Devil’s Tornado came bursting out in a blur of movement.

  Instantly, Ty knew this was not just any bull.

  So did the crowd. A breath-stealing silence fell over the rodeo arena as Devil’s Tornado slammed into the fence, then spun in a tight bucking cyclone of dust and hooves.

  Devil’s Tornado pounded the earth in bucking lunges, hammering Huck with each jarring slam. Ty watched, his heart in his throat as the two-thousand pound bull’s frantic movements intensified in a blur of rider and bull.

  The crowd found its voice as the eight-second horn sounded and bullfighters dressed like clowns rushed out.

  With his hand still tethered to the monstrous bull, Huck’s body suddenly began to flop from side to side, as lifeless as a dummy’s, as Devil’s Tornado continued bucking.

  The bullfighters ran to the bull and rider, one working frantically to free the bucking rigging from around the bull and the other to free Huck’s arm from the thickly braided rope that bound bull and rider.

  Devil’s Tornado whirled, tossing Huck from side to side, charging at the bullfighters who tried desperately to free the rider. One freed the rigging strap designed to make the bull buck. It fell to the dirt, but Huck’s bull rope wouldn’t come loose. The cowbell jangled at the end of the rope as Huck flopped on the bull’s broad back as the bull continued to buck and spin in a nauseating whir of motion.

  Other cowboys had jumped into the arena, all fighting to free Huck. It seemed to go on forever, although it had only been a matter of seconds before one of the bullfighters pulled a knife, severing Huck from Devil’s Tornado.

  Huck’s lifeless body rose one last time into the air over the bull, suspended like a bag of rags for a heart-stopping moment before it crumpled to the dirt.

  The crowd swelled to its feet in a collective gasp of horror as the rider lay motionless.

  Devil’s Tornado made a run for the body. A bullfighter leapt in front of the charging bull and was almost gored. He managed to distract the bull away from Huck, but only for a few moments.

  The bull started to charge one of the pickup riders on horseback, but stumbled and fell. He staggered to his feet in a clear rage, tongue out, eyes rolling.

  Cowboys jumped off the fence to run to where Huck lay crumpled in the dirt. A leg moved. Then an arm. Miraculously, Huck Kramer sat up, signally he was all right.

  A roar of applause erupted from the grandstands.

  “That was some ride,” the announcer said over the loudspeaker. “Let’s give that cowboy another round of applause.”

  Ty sagged a little with relief. He hated to see cowboys get hurt, let alone killed. Huck had been lucky.

  Ty’s gaze returned to Devil’s Tornado. The bull ran wild-eyed around the other end of the arena, charging at anything that moved, sending cowboys clambering up the fence. Ty had seen this many times during bull rides at rodeos.

  Devil’s Tornado was big and strong, fast out of the chute and one hell of a bucker, but those were attributes, nothing that would have gotten Clayton worked up.

  “Whew,” the announcer boomed. “Folks, you aren’t going to believe this. The judges have given Huck a whopping ninety-two!”

  The crowd cheered as Huck was helped out of the arena. He seemed to be limping but, other than that, okay.

  Had Clayton just been impressed by Devil’s Tornado? No. Ty distinctly remembered that Clayton had been upset, seemingly worried about something he’d seen at the Billings rodeo involving Devil’s Tornado. But what?

  The pickup riders finally cornered the bull, one getting a rope around the head and a horn and worked him toward the exit chute. Devil’s Tornado pawed the earth, shaking his head, fighting them.

  Ty worked his way in the direction of the exit chute, hoping to get a closer look. As Devil’s Tornado was being herded out, he seemed disoriented and confused, shying away from anything that moved.

  Usually, by the time a bull got to the exit chute, he recognized that it was over and became more docile. Not Devil’s Tornado. He still seemed worked up, maybe a little high-strung, stopping when he saw the waiting semitrailer, looking scared and unsure. Still, not that unusual for a bull that had just scored that high a ride.

  Ty wouldn’t have thought anything more about the bull if he hadn’t seen Boone Rasmussen rush up to the exit chute and reach through the fence to touch the still aggravated Devil’s Tornado. What the hell? Ty couldn’t see what Boone had done, but whatever it was made the bull stumble back, almost falling again. Rasmussen reached again for the bull, then quickly withdrew his hand, thrusting it deep into his jacket pocket.

  How strange, Ty thought. Devil’s Tornado was frothing at the mouth, his head lolling. Ty saw the bull’s eyes. Wide and filled with…panic? Devil’s Tornado looked around crazily as if unable to focus.

  Ty tried to remember where he’d seen that look on a bull before and it finally came to him. It had been years ago in a Mexican bull ring. He was just a kid at the time, but he would never forget that crazed look in the bull’s eyes.

  Is this what Clayton had witnessed? Is this what had him so upset? Had Clayton suspected something was wrong with Devil’s Tornado, just as Ty did? But what would Clayton have done about it?

  Ty wasn’t even sure what he’d just witnessed. All he knew was: something was wrong with that bull. And Boone Rasmussen was at the heart of it.

  “DID YOU SEE THAT?” Letty asked, sitting next to her friend.

  Dusty stared through the arena fence toward the chutes and Boone Rasmussen, not sure what she’d seen or what she was feeling right now. “See what?”

  Letty let out an impatient sigh. “Don’t tell me you missed the entire bull ride because you were gawking at Boone Rasmussen.”

  Dusty looked over at her friend, surprised how off balance she felt. She let out a little chuckle and pretended she wasn’t shaking inside. “Some ride, huh.”

  But it wasn’t the ride that had her hugging herself to ward off a chill on such a warm spring night. She wasn’t sure what she’d seen. Letty, like everyone else, had been watching Huck Kramer once the bull had gone into the chutes.

  Dusty had been watching Boone. That’s why she’d seen the expression on his face when he reached through the fence and hit Devil’s Tornado with something. Not a cattle prod but something else. The bull had been in her line of sight, so she couldn’t be sure what it had been.

  Boone Rasmussen’s expression had been so…cold. It all happened so fast—the movement, Boone’s expression. But there was that moment when she wondered if she’d made a mistake when it came to him. Maybe he wasn’t what she was looking for at all.

  TY MOVED ALONG the corrals to the exit chute where Devil’s Tornado now stood, head down, unmoving. Rasmussen stood next to the fence as if watching the bull, waiting. Waiting for what?

  A chill ran the length of his spine as Ty stared at Devil’s Tornado. This had to be what Clayton had seen. The look in that bull’s eyes and Rasmussen acting just as strangely as the bull.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Lamar Nichols stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the bull and Rasmussen.

  Ty looked past the big burly cowboy to where Rasmussen prodded the bull and Devil’s Tornado stumbled up into the trailer. Rasmussen closed the door behind it with a loud clank.

  A shudder went through Ty at the sound. “That’s some bull you got there.”

  “He don’t like people.” Lamar stepped in front of him, blocking his view again. “Unless you’re authorized to be back here, I suggest you go back into the stands with the rest of the audience.”

  Ty looked past Lamar and saw Rasmussen over by the semitrailer. “Sure,” Ty said to the barrel-chested cowboy blocking his way. No chance of getting a closer look now.

  He knew if he tried, Lamar would call security or take a swing at him. Ty didn’t want to create that much attention.

  As Ty headed back toward the grandstand, he searched the crowd for Clayton T. Brooks with growing concern. Now more than ever, he wanted to talk to the old bull rider about Devil’s Tornado and what had happened at the Billings rodeo that had riled Clayton.

  But Ty didn’t see him in the crowd or along the fence with the other cowboys. Where was Clayton anyway? He never missed a rodeo this close to home.

  “THANKS FOR HANGING AROUND with me,” Dusty McCall said as she and her best friend, Leticia Arnold, walked past the empty dark grandstands after the rodeo.

  The crowd had gone home. But Dusty had waited around, coming up with lame excuses to keep her friend there because she hadn’t wanted to stay alone—and yet she’d been determined not to leave until she saw Boone.

  But she never got the chance. Either he’d left or she just hadn’t seen him among the other cowboys loading stock.

  “I’m pathetic,” Dusty said with another groan.

  Letty laughed. “No, you’re not.”

  “It’s just…” She waved her hand through the air unable to explain all the feelings that had bombarded her from the first time she’d laid eyes on Boone a few weeks before. He was the first man who’d ever made her feel like this, and it confused and frustrated her to no end.

  “Are you limping?” Letty asked, frowning at her.

  “It’s nothing. Just a little accident I had earlier today,” Dusty said, not wanting to admit she’d ridden a saddle bronc just to impress Boone and he hadn’t even seen her ride. She hated to admit even to herself how stupidly she’d been behaving.

  “Are you sure Boone’s worth it?” Letty asked.

  Right at that moment, no.

  “He just doesn’t seem like your type,” her friend said.

  Dusty had heard all of this before. She didn’t want to hear it tonight. Especially since Letty was right. She didn’t understand this attraction to Boone any more than Letty did. “He’s just so different from any man I’ve ever met,” she tried to explain.

  “That could be a clue right there.”

  Dusty gave her friend a pointed look. “You have to admit he is good-looking.”

  “In a dark and dangerous kind of way, I suppose,” Letty agreed.

  Dark and dangerous. Wasn’t that the great attraction, Dusty thought, glancing back over her shoulder toward the rodeo arena. She felt a small shiver as she remembered the look on his face when he’d reached through the fence toward the bull. She frowned, realizing that she’d seen something drop to the ground as Boone pulled back his hand. Something that had caught the light. Something shiny. Like metal. Right after that Monte had picked whatever it was up from the ground and pocketed it.

  “You’re sure he told you to meet him after the rodeo?” Letty asked, not for the first time.

  Dusty had told a small fib in her zeal to see Boone tonight. On her way back from getting a soda, she’d seen Boone, heard him say, “Meet me after the rodeo.” No way was he talking to her. He didn’t know she existed. But when she’d related the story to Letty, she’d let on that she thought Boone had been talking to her.

  “Maybe I got it wrong,” Dusty said now.

  Maybe she’d gotten everything wrong. But that didn’t explain these feelings she’d been having lately. If she hadn’t been raised in a male-dominated family out in the boonies and hadn’t spent most of her twenty-one years up before the sun mending fence, riding range and slopping out horse stalls, she might know what to do with these alien yearnings. More to the point, what to do about these conflicting emotions when it came to Boone Rasmussen.

  Instead, she felt inept, something she wasn’t used to. She’d always been pretty good at everything she tried. She could ride and rope and round up cattle with the best of them, and she’d been helping run the ranch for the past few years since her father’s heart attack.