A cowhand, who’d been at Circle R for three years, was leading out a horse.“Came in for a fresh horse,” the man said.
“Anyone here?”Jack asked.
“Mr.McClary is inside the house,” the hand said, “but everyone else is out.”He hesitated, then added, “Another miner was killed, apparently a few days ago.Someone just found him.”
Jack felt the knot in his gut tighten.
The cowhand cleared his throat.“Three more men left,” he said.“I’ll have to leave, Mr.Randall, if I don’t get paid.”
Jack nodded.“I understand.”
The cowhand turned his horse and rode away.
Jack watched him go.The money didn’t matter anymore.He would lose the Circle R, one way or another.He was resigned to that.
The question now was what else would he lose.The daughter he’d never known he had and now wanted desperately?His life?His freedom?He had already lost what little self-respect he had regained.He had lost it the moment McClary had reappeared and reminded him of the past, the second Randall had acquiesced to his demands, knowing it meant murder.
Randall rode up to the ranch house, dismounted, and tied his mount to the hitching post.He had something to do, and he had to do it while he still had the courage.He knew what Sara had thought of him, even apparently to her death.He couldn’t bear to think how his daughter would react if she knew he was involved in the murder of innocent men.
If she still lived …
He buried his head in his hands for a moment, trying to think.He had to get help to find his daughter, and he also had to stop McClary.Even if he went to prison, he had to stop him.
“Sara,” he murmured hoarsely.“What should I do?”He knew what she would have said.He should saddle a fresh horse, go after Russ, tell him everything.But then he thought of Shea, who looked like Sara.His daughter.
He knew suddenly he couldn’t tell Russ the truth.He couldn’t let his daughter know what a despicable man her father was.Maybe later, when she had learned to like him a little.A week.A month.
Perhaps he could convince McClary to leave this territory.He swallowed.The weakling’s way out.
But a way out, just the same.Then he could tell Russ that Tyler was just a man bent on revenge.It would be his word against Tyler’s, just like before.…
He doubled over, emptying the contents of his stomach on the ground.He rose unsteadily.McClary first.Then he would figure the rest.He put his hand on the butt of his gun, trying to reassure himself.He knew how to use it.He was neither fast nor accurate, but McClary didn’t know that.
Determined, he headed into the ranch house and found McClary in his office, going through his books with a glass of whiskey in his hands.
“What are you doing here?”
“I heard you went looking for a daughter,” McClary said with a smirk.“Didn’t know you had one, you old fox.Is she pretty?”
Jack stiffened.He should have known McClary would have heard something.“You heard wrong,” he said.“I had business in Casey Springs.”
McClary raised an eyebrow.“That so?Trying to raise money?”He looked down at the open books.“I’ve been thinking.Your books here … they don’t look so good.I might consider a partnership.”
Distaste and anger became rage.Reason started slipping away.He had been a con man, a thief, never a murderer.But now he could easily kill McClary.
“No!”he said.
“You have no choice.”
Quietly, Randall said, “You’re going to leave.”
McClary laughed.“Why would I do that?”
Randall’s hand went to the butt of his gun.“Because I’ll tell the sheriff you’re responsible for those murders.”
“You aren’t going to do that,” McClary said with absolute certainty.
“I’m going to do more than that,” Randall retorted with reckless bravado.“I’m going to tell him the truth about Rafe Tyler, about who really planned those robberies.”He was bluffing, pure and simple, and he hated the small quake in his voice.He might not be a killer, but he knew McClary was.
