“Well, you don’t have to get mad.”

  He ground his teeth. Sometimes he wanted to ring Dusty McCall’s slim neck. Other times…

  It was the other times that had him walking away from her. She was just a kid. Just an annoying, pain-in-the-neck kid.

  Dusty trailed after him until he stopped and spun on her. “I told you it wasn’t me who followed you home.”

  “I believe you,” she said, looking indignant.

  “I could ask you what you were doing there,” he said.

  “I already told you. Nothing.”

  “Right. Well, now that we got that cleared up, is there something else I could help you with?”

  “If you have to know, I left my bag and went back for it,” she said.

  He cut his eyes to her. “You left your bag in the horse corrals.”

  “I found it in the grandstand where I left it and then I wandered down to the horse corral.”

  He didn’t believe a word of it. “Just to see the horses.”

  “No,” she snapped. “I heard arguing. I was curious.”

  That, he believed. But something was bothering her. “Okay, Slim, spill it. Whatever it is, let’s hear it.”

  She gulped air. “I need to ask your opinion on something.” She swallowed and seemed to be having trouble finding her voice. A rare occurrence, considering how many times she’d told him what she thought in no uncertain terms. “It’s kind of…personal.”

  Today he’d seen her wordless and choked up, all in the same morning. And now she wanted to ask him something…personal?

  She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it as a truck came up the road.

  Ty swore under his breath when he recognized the rig. This didn’t bode well, he thought, as the dark brown pickup pulled up in the yard and Boone Rasmussen climbed out.

  “Stay here,” Ty said to Dusty.

  She didn’t answer. Nor did she move.

  As he stepped out of the barn, he glanced back. She was standing right where he’d left her, still as a statue. What the heck was going on with that girl, anyway? She never did what he told her. Hell, she did just the opposite to show him she didn’t have to listen to him.

  Except for just now.

  Rasmussen got out of his truck and sauntered toward him, his face expressionless. Ty fought the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  Rasmussen had never been out to the Coltrane Appaloosa Ranch before. For that matter, he’d never acknowledged Ty, even though they’d met numerous times at rodeos. Every time they’d been introduced, Boone acted as if it had been the first, saying, “Coltrane? You raise…horses?”

  Roping horses. Some of the best known in the world, including horses now being ridden by the top ropers in professional rodeo. But Boone Rasmussen knew that. Ty wondered why the man seemed to purposely rub him the wrong way. Or maybe that was just Boone Rasmussen’s way. Whatever, Ty hadn’t liked him. Didn’t trust him. Especially after last night.

  “Mornin’,” Rasmussen said, glancing toward the barn, his gaze skimming over Dusty who stood silhouetted in the doorway, head down, her straw hat hiding her face. He shifted his dark eyes to Ty again without giving her another glance.

  Ty waited, afraid he already knew what was on the cowboy’s mind.

  “I heard you raise horses,” Rasmussen said, shoving back his hat.

  “You know damned well I raise Appaloosa ropers.”

  Rasmussen’s brow shot up. He pushed back his hat and smiled. “A little testy this morning, ain’t we.”

  If he thought his good ol’ Texas boy routine was going to work, he was sadly mistaken. “What is it you want, Rasmussen?”

  “I was looking for a horse.” He glanced toward the green pasture dotted with Coltrane Appaloosas.

  Ty knew Rasmussen had no need of a roping horse. “You just missed our production sale. You might want to check it out next spring if you’re still around. We’ll have some yearlings and two-year-olds. The competition is pretty stiff, though.”

  Buyers came from all over the country. A Coltrane Appaloosa often went for thousands of dollars, especially progeny of one of his more famous roping horses with potential as breeding stock.

  “But you’re probably looking for a trained horse,” Ty added. “Those go even higher and faster at the sale.”

  “I can train my own horse. And I will be around next spring.” Rasmussen’s jaw tightened. “You seem to have a burr under your saddle when it comes to me.”

  “You didn’t come out here for a horse. What is it you’re really after?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.” He glanced toward the barn again. Dusty was still standing in the same spot, hat down over her blue eyes, probably straining to hear their conversation. Ty doubted she could from this distance, but he knew she was damned sure watching them from under the brim of her hat. Slim was nothing if not nosy.

  Rasmussen pulled off his straw hat and burrowed his fingers through his thick black hair. “What’s your interest in my bulls?” he demanded, flicking a look at him.

  “Who told you I was interested?” Ty asked, although he knew it was that rough-looking cowboy Rasmussen used in his chutes, Lamar Nichols.

  “Doesn’t matter. I just wondered why a man who raises roping horses would care about roughstock,” Boone said. “You thinking of raising bulls?”

  Ty wanted to laugh. Boone Rasmussen knew damned well that wasn’t the case. “There a problem with me checking out your bulls?”

  Boone shifted on his feet, looked down at his boots, then back up, the dark gaze boring into him. “Nope. But if you’re that interested I’d suggest you come out to the ranch in the daytime. Easier to see when it isn’t pitch-dark.”

  “I just might take you up on that,” Ty said. “The last time I saw a show like the one your bull put on last night was in Mexico.”

  Something dark and threatening flickered in Rasmussen’s eyes before he looked away toward the barn. Ty followed his gaze. Dusty was gone.

  For no reason he could put his finger on, Ty was relieved. She’d been near the corrals last night after the rodeo and had almost been trampled by the bucking horses, thanks to Rasmussen. Had she been snooping, too? More to the point, had Rasmussen seen her? Someone had followed her home. No, chased her home, she’d said.

  Ty wanted to confront Rasmussen about opening that corral gate last night, but then that would mean involving Dusty and that was the last thing Ty wanted to do.

  When Rasmussen looked at him again, Ty could feel rage coming off him in waves. They were about the same age, Rasmussen a few years older. Ty was a little taller and a little lighter, but he figured he could take Rasmussen in a fair fight. Except he doubted Boone Rasmussen had ever been in a fair fight in his life.

  “You got quite the spread here,” Rasmussen said, his voice sounding strange as if he were fighting to get some control over that rage. “Must be tough for someone your age. Have to keep your eye on things all the time. Probably don’t have time to do much else.”

  Like snoop around rodeo arenas after dark? Ty heard the jealousy in Boone’s tone and what sounded like a threat. He’d been running the Coltrane Appaloosa Ranch since his father’s death two years ago. Rasmussen was right about one thing: it didn’t leave much time for anything else.

  “There a point you’re trying to make?” Ty asked as he crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Just making conversation.”

  “Well, if that’s all, I’ve got some mares about to foal and don’t really have time for conversation this morning.”

  Rasmussen flashed a smile that had no chance of reaching his dark eyes and tipped his hat. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.”

  Count on it, Ty thought as he watched the cowboy get into his pickup and drive off.

  Why had he driven all the way up here to begin with? Not for a horse, that was for sure. No, he wanted Ty to know that he knew about last night—knew Ty had been snooping around Devil’s Tornado. And he’d come out here to warn him off.

  This morning, Ty had half convinced himself that he’d been wrong about Devil’s Tornado last night. That there wasn’t anything to find out. Hell, hadn’t Rasmussen invited him out to see the bulls in the daylight?

  If there was something about Devil’s Tornado that Rasmussen didn’t want him to see, then why make that offer?

  It didn’t make any sense.

  So why was Ty even more convinced that Rasmussen had something to hide? Because he’d seen the cowboy’s rage and something more. Boone Rasmussen had a mean streak that made him dangerous to anyone who got in his way.

  And Ty had gotten in his way.

  As he looked back toward the barn, Ty wondered if Dusty had also gotten in Boone Rasmussen’s way.

  Chapter Five

  Shelby McCall was waiting for him when Asa came down to breakfast. They hadn’t talked yesterday after his ride. He got the feeling she’d been afraid to ask him anything for fear he might tell her.

  That wasn’t like Shelby.

  But one look at her face this morning told him everything he needed to know—even before she pulled the envelope from her apron pocket.

  How ironic that his first thought was that he’d rather die than face her right now.

  “When were you going to tell me?” Her voice quavered, eyes filling with tears but not falling, as if by her strength of will she could hold back the torrent.

  He started to muddy the waters by demanding to know what she thought she was doing going through his things, but she would have seen right through that.

  That day he’d gotten the letter, he’d been the one to go down to the mailbox at the end of the road. He’d seen her watching him from the window. He’d had to stuff the letter into his pocket to keep her from seeing it when he entered the house.

  He smiled ruefully now. Of course she would have noticed. He couldn’t get anything past her. Never could.

  “Where did you find the letter?” he asked, stalling.

  She gave him an exasperated look. “In your jacket pocket where you put it. Not that it matters where I found it. Asa.” The pain in her voice was heart-wrenching, but he could tell she was trying to be strong for him. For the children. “You have to tell them.”

  He nodded as he pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and lowered himself into it. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so bone-weary.

  “There’s more,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse even to his own ears. He looked up at her.

  She straightened to her full height, head going up, that stubborn determined look in her beautiful face as she took the chair across from him. “Tell me.”

  “It’s rather a long story.”

  “I have time,” she said, then seemed to bite her tongue. One errant tear spilled over her cheek. She hurriedly wiped it away and met his gaze, still refusing to acknowledge something they’d both known for a long time.

  He was dying.

  The letter only confirmed what he’d suspected. For him, time had run out.

  TY FOUND Dusty by Rosie’s stall. She stood on tiptoe, peering in at the new foal she wanted to name Miracle. Her expression was so tender he felt his heart do a slow painful somersault in his chest.

  It surprised him she hadn’t come out of the barn when Rasmussen was here. It wasn’t like her. Normally, she would have been right in the middle of the conversation. Strange, she had almost seemed…shy.

  He shook his head at such a thought. This was Dusty McCall, he reminded himself. Dusty and shy didn’t go together.

  But was it possible she was scared of Rasmussen?

  “What did Boone want?” Dusty asked as she glanced toward the barn door. Dust still hung in the air from the trail his pickup had left behind.

  “Nothin’,” Ty said. She looked pale to him. He watched her burrow down into her jacket. “You all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Any reason you didn’t want to see Rasmussen just now?” he asked.

  She gave him a surprised, wide-eyed look. “I’ve never even met him, just know who he is. Anyway, you told me to stay here.”

  Ty studied her. She never does what I tell her. He sighed. “What was it you were going to ask me before he showed up?”

  She looked away. “It wasn’t important.”

  “Fine. Whatever.” Turning, he headed down between the stalls. He’d never understand that girl. He checked the mares again, mentally noting that he might have to call in a couple of his hands if the mares decided to foal at the same time, just to keep an eye on them in case anything went wrong.

  Still no word from Clayton. He was torn between worry and annoyance. Mostly worry. No one seemed to have heard from him for several days.

  Ty turned, surprised to find Dusty had followed him. “I thought you left.” He didn’t know what was bothering her, but she was starting to irritate him. He knew Dusty too well. Something was on her mind and he was getting tired of waiting to hear what it was.

  He thought of Rasmussen and was reminded again that Dusty had almost been trampled by the bucking horses last night. Just the thought made his stomach churn. He told himself that Dusty had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time last night. But if he was right about Boone Rasmussen, then he didn’t want Dusty anywhere near the man. Or his roughstock.

  “Last night after the rodeo, you didn’t happen to hear what Boone and his buddies were arguing about, did you?” he asked, thinking that might be the problem.

  She shot him a surprised look. “No. Why?”

  “Just curious,” he said and wished he hadn’t said anything. She was giving him that fish-eye look of hers and he could almost see the wheels turning in her head.

  “Is that what you were doing there? Trying to hear what they were saying?”

  “I stayed around to see one of the bulls.” He turned to walk away from her, hoping she dropped it.

  But then that wouldn’t have been like her.

  “Why would you want to see one of Boone’s bulls?” she demanded, trailing after him. “The two of you didn’t seem all that friendly a few minutes ago.”

  He spun on her. “Was there some reason you came up here today other than to give me a hard time?”

  She seemed to deflate before his eyes. She let out a sigh. “There’s something I need to know.” She sighed again. “You’re a man.”

  He let out a laugh. “Last time I checked.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

  He didn’t really, but she’d definitely gotten his interest. Where in the world was she headed with this, though? He gave her his full attention as he waited to see.

  “Do you think I’m…cute?” She practically choked on the word.

  “Cute as a button,” he said meaning it, relieved beyond words that this was all she wanted to know.

  She swallowed and bit her lower lip, lowering her eyes. “I mean do I turn you on?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Oh, I knew you were the wrong one to ask.” She spun around and stalked toward the barn door.

  He went after her, grabbing her arm and spinning her around so he could see her face. Damned if she wasn’t crying. He let go of her in surprise. “Talk to me, Slim.”

  She made an angry swipe at her tears. “Do you have any idea what it’s like being raised on a ranch far from anything in an all-male family? I’ve spent my whole life trying not to be different. I just wanted to fit in, and that meant trying to be just like my brothers.”

  He raised a brow. “I don’t think being a tomboy is a bad thing, Slim. Hell, you can ride better than most men and before your brothers Rourke and Brandon started helping, you and J.T. were running the Sundown spread.”

  She windmilled her arms and let out an exasperated breath. “I’m not saying I don’t love ranching. And I never wanted to be one of those prissy girls like you’ve dated.” She made a face. “It isn’t about that.”

  He waited, trying not to comment on her jab about the prissy girls he’d dated.

  “It’s about sex,” she said on a breath and looked down at her boots.

  Ty reared back. “Wow. Slim, if this is about the birds and bees, then you should be talking to your mama.”

  She mugged a face at him. “I’ve known about sex since I was old enough to peer through the fence at the cattle.”

  “Then you’ve lost me,” he said just wanting this conversation to be over.

  “Lately, I’ve been having these…feelings,” she said, her head down again.

  Ty let out a nervous laugh. Oh, brother.

  “I should have known you wouldn’t help me.”

  As she started to stomp off, he reluctantly grabbed her arm again. “Look, I’d help you if I could. It’s just that this is the kind of thing you discuss with your mother or a friend.”

  “I can’t talk to Shelby about anything.”

  He knew that Dusty was still having trouble accepting her mother. Shelby McCall had only recently returned after being gone most of her children’s lives—all of Dusty’s.

  “And I thought you were my friend,” she accused, eyes narrowing.

  He took off his hat and shot a hand through his hair. “I was thinking more of a girl-type friend.”

  “Letty?” she cried.

  Letty, who was even more of a tomboy than Dusty, probably had less experience with this type of thing than Slim. “You have a point. What about your sisters-in-law?”

  “I hardly know them and they’re…old.”

  He smiled at that. Her sisters-in-law were all in their thirties. “Okay,” he said before she could take off again. He was five years her senior. Did she see him as “old” too?

  He groaned at the thought. The problem was: he’d never seen her like this. Sure, he’d seen her upset. Usually after she’d been bucked from a horse. Or tossed into a mud puddle by one of her brothers when she was younger. But this was different, and he knew he couldn’t just let her leave thinking he wasn’t taking her seriously.

  “Come over here,” he said and pulled down a straw bale for her to sit on. He dragged up one for himself and sat facing her. “What brought this on, anyway?”