Russ nodded.“You’re right.”He turned to his daughter.“Kate?”
“I’ll stay here, make some dinner,” she said.“I’ll ride home later.”
“Not alone,” Russ warned, and Shea saw Kate bristle slightly.
“I’ve been riding alone since I was twelve.”
“We didn’t have killings then.”
“Clint will bring me home,” Kate said, turning toward him.
Clint’s face tensed, then relaxed.“I would be pleased to.”
Russ nodded, then turned to Shea.“I’m sorry your visit has been so … unfortunate, but at least it appears that your father will be all right.You’ll let me know if you remember anything else?Or if Jack does when he wakes again?”
“Yes,” Shea said, uncomfortable under his steady, questioning gaze.
After he left, Kate announced she would go down and find something to cook for dinner.“You stay here with your father,” she said sympathetically.She looked toward Clint, her eyes softening, and Shea felt a tug of sympathy for Clint.His jaw had set, a muscle tensing in his cheek.She wondered whether Rafe had any idea of the dilemma his friend was in.
She sympathized with all her heart.She was learning the agony of divided loyalties.
Kate left, and Shea was alone with Clint.Her father was once more in a deep sleep.
“You did well,” he said.
“I’m a good liar after all?”she said, hearing bitterness in her own voice.
“Not the best, but you’ll do.”
“You’re pretty good at it yourself.”She couldn’t contain the accusation.
His lips twisted in a wry smile, but he said nothing.His eyes, however, clouded, and she sensed the regret in him, a dislike for what he was doing.
“Rafe is lucky to have you as a friend,” she said suddenly.
“He’s had damn little luck these past years,” Clint said.“Even now …” He shut his mouth, then turned away and walked out of the room.
Shea gazed again at Jack Randall, her eyes fighting to stay open now.She hadn’t had any sleep for a long time.Last night …
Was it only last night that Rafe had made love to her?So gently.So passionately.She closed her eyes, remembering his touch, her mind erasing the cruel words of this morning.
“Rafe,” she whispered to herself, unaware that the name somehow penetrated the half-conscious world of the man so near to her.“I’ll always love you.”
Sam McClary cursed his luck as he rode his horse along Rushton Creek.If only those hands hadn’t ridden up.
He could only hope that no one had seen him leave, that Randall was dead.But he couldn’t count on either one.
There was nothing here for him now, anyway, not at the ranch.No more money to frighten from Randall.No more baiting the bastard.
Damn Randall for losing his nerve.Sam had always known Randall had a streak of yellow.But this thing about Tyler … That odd, incomprehensible guilt had destroyed Randall’s usefulness.Could it have anything to do with rumors of a daughter?Randall had denied it, but …
Too bad.The connection with Randall had been a good thing.Always good for a few dollars when things became too hot for McClary someplace else.
He should leave this place, leave Colorado, but he knew if he did, Rafe Tyler would find him.Just as he had found Randall.McClary couldn’t take that risk.
Although he couldn’t return to the ranch, he had to stay just a little bit longer in the area.The law would be looking for him and Tyler, but Tyler wore the brand.And Tyler would stay, McClary knew, if the murders continued, if Tyler suspected McClary was still in the area.McClary would take his chances now rather than wait until the day Tyler found him.
McClary wanted to see Rafe Tyler hang.He wanted it enough that he was willing to risk getting caught.Tyler had become a personal obsession, and not only because of the danger he represented.McClary had hated him ten years ago; he hated him every bit as much now.He would never forget Tyler’s contempt, before Tyler’s disgrace and even after.
