Roping Ray McCullen (10 page)

Chapter Fifteen

“I can't believe he's running!” Brett said under his breath as Ray and his brother chased after Hardwick.

It certainly made the man look guilty.

Ray shouldered his way through the crowded bar, keeping his eyes on Hardwick as the ranch hand pushed his way to the front door. Brett darted the opposite direction hoping to cut Hardwick off before he reached the exit.

A brunette in a low-cut blouse touched his arm. “Buy you a drink, cowboy?”

Ray shook his head and forged on, catching glimpses of two other women attempting to snag Brett's attention. Although Brett had been a flirt and had had women galore when he was on the circuit, he barely noticed these ladies. He was completely devoted to Willow.

Ray spotted Hardwick elbow a couple aside in his haste to escape, then he darted out the door. Ray rushed by the bar and made it to the exit before Brett, but Brett caught up quickly as they ran outside.

Ray paused to scan the parking lot, the music still blaring behind them, this time the song about a man and his dog.

“There, he's getting in his truck.” Brett gestured at a black pickup and a custom tag that read “BIGMAN”. Hardwick wrenched the door open and jumped in.

“Stop, Hardwick!” Ray shouted as he jogged through the parking lot.

By the time he reached Hardwick's truck, Hardwick was screeching from the parking lot.

Ray grabbed his keys from his pocket and motioned to Brett. “Come on, we'll take my Range Rover.”

The two of them jogged to his SUV and got in. He fired up the engine and roared from the parking lot in chase. Tires squealed as Hardwick sped up and veered onto a side road.

A little sedan pulled out in front of Ray. He cursed and slowed, irritated that another car was coming toward him, and he couldn't pass it.

“Up there!” Brett pointed to the truck.

“I see it.” Finally the oncoming car zoomed by, then another. Ray sped up and zoomed around the sedan. Accelerating, he rode the edge of the road until he made the turn.

Hardwick raced around a curve ahead. Ray punched the gas and the Range Rover lurched forward, eating the distance between them.

Hardwick took a turn too fast and an oncoming gas truck appeared out of nowhere. Hardwick swerved to avoid it, but lost control and his truck left the road, flying toward a ravine.

Hardwick swung the truck to the right to avoid careening over the edge and diving into the hollow, but the truck spun out, then flipped to its side and skidded into an embankment. Glass shattered and metal crunched, sparks flying as it finally crashed to a stop.

“I'll call it in,” Brett said as he reached for his phone.

Ray slowed the Range Rover and pulled onto the shoulder of the road, then jumped out and sprinted toward the vehicle.

It was upside down, the passenger side crunched against the embankment. He dropped down to his knees to look inside. The air bag had deployed and Hardwick was strapped in, upside down, and blood dripped down his face.

His eyes were closed and he wasn't moving.

“The ambulance is on its way,” Brett said as he ran up. “How is he?”

“Hard to tell,” Ray said. “He's unconscious.”

Ray reached through the broken glass and felt for a pulse. “He's alive, but pulse is weak.”

A siren wailed in the distance, indicating help was on its way. Hardwick groaned and tried to open his eyes.

If he died, they'd never get any answers. “Why did you run, Hardwick?”

Another moan, and the man turned his head toward Ray.

“Did you set the fire at the barns on the ranch?” Brett asked.

Hardwick moved his head as if to shake it no, but it was difficult to tell. A siren wailed and the ambulance careened down the road toward them.

“Tell us,” Brett said. “Did you set the fire?”

“No,” Hardwick mumbled.

“You were working for Bennett?”

Hardwick coughed up blood, then faded into unconsciousness again. The ambulance roared to a stop, a fire engine on its tail.

Ray and Brett stepped aside as the rescue workers hurried toward them.

He didn't know if Hardwick would make it or not. But if he regained consciousness, they'd force him to talk.

* * *

S
CARLET
RUBBED
HER
ARMS
, wondering where Ray was.

“I'll make sure the restraining order is in place and that Pullman knows about it,” Deputy Whitefeather said. “Ray said he asked him about cutting the brake lines but he denied it.”

“I wouldn't expect him to confess.”

“If he did it, Scarlet, we'll find some way to get him.”

“Thanks,” Scarlet said. “I didn't want it to come to this.”

Deputy Whitefeather gave her a sympathetic look. “It's not your fault. From what you've told me about the man, it sounds as if he has a pattern of abuse. He needs serious counseling and anger management classes.”

“He also needs to stop drinking,” Scarlet said. “I told him all this, but it only made him more furious.”

“Sometimes it takes the court and a little jail time to knock some sense into people.”

Even then it might not work. “The sad thing is that his child suffers. That little girl needs a father.”

“Every kid does,” the deputy said in a gravelly voice.

Scarlet didn't know the deputy very well, but she sensed they might be kindred spirits.

“Your father wasn't around?”

He shook his head, his long ponytail sliding over one shoulder. “No, I grew up on the reservation with my mother. I didn't even know my father's name until recently.”

“I'm sorry,” Scarlet said softly. “It sounds like you and I have some things in common.”

The deputy's eyes darkened and, for a moment, she thought she detected some strong emotions pass through them. Pain. Anger.

He was a handsome man. Big-boned, tall, tan skin, high cheekbones, eyes dark brown and soulful. Sexy.

But he didn't stir the same kind of need inside her that Ray McCullen did.

He heaved a breath and stood. “You know the McCullen brothers?”

Scarlet twisted her hands together, not sure how to answer that question. “I just met Ray. But I knew their father, Joe.”

Deputy Whitefeather's brows rose in question. “You knew Joe McCullen?”

“Yes.” Scarlet thought of Joe and had to smile. “I lived in the children's home outside Laramie. Joe volunteered there. He also donated money to build a new house. We named it The Family Farm.”

“Really? That was nice of him.”

“He had a soft spot for kids without families.” Scarlet debated how much to tell him, but chose her words carefully. “He brought horses over twice a month and gave us riding lessons. I guess you could say he became a father figure to everyone there.”

The deputy's jaw twitched. “I never knew the man myself, but I heard good things about him. Maddox took his death hard.”

“I guess he was closest to Joe,” Scarlet said.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “You must have been upset, too.”

Scarlet's chest ached with grief. “Yes, I loved him. He actually helped place me in another home when I was around ten. He...was always there for me.” It made her sad to think she'd never see him again.

With all the trouble that had happened this week, he would have been the first person she would have called.

Now she'd called on his son Ray...

But that had to end. When his brothers discovered the truth about Barbara and Bobby and her, the McCullens probably wouldn't want them in their lives.

The deputy's dark gaze met hers, and once again, Scarlet had the uncanny sense that he wanted to say more. Turmoil colored his expression, one she didn't quite understand.

“Here's my card, Scarlet. Don't hesitate to call if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Deputy Whitefeather. By the way, did Ray tell you that someone ran him off the road and beat him up?”

“Yes.” His demeanor changed, suspicions flaring in his eyes. “It does seem like someone's out to get the McCullens.”

He couldn't possibly think she'd hurt Ray or the McCullens. But Bobby might... “I hope you find whoever did it. It could be the same person who set that fire.”

The deputy squeezed her arm. “Don't worry, Scarlet, we'll get to the bottom of this. Just keep your doors locked and call me if Pullman shows up again.”

She locked the door when he left and prayed no one else came to her house tonight. Not Pullman or Bobby.

Or Ray.

If he returned, she wouldn't be able to resist asking him to stay.

* * *

I
T
TOOK
FOREVER
for the firefighters to extract Hardwick from his truck, board him and transport him to the hospital.

The medics said he had a concussion, cuts and abrasions, and they were worried about internal bleeding.

Ray drove Brett to retrieve his truck at The Silver Bullet, then they met at the hospital. If Hardwick regained consciousness, they wanted to be there to question him.

Ray went straight to the coffee machine while Brett called Willow to check on her and Sam.

Ray brought his brother a cup of coffee and sipped his own. It was weak but warmed his throat, and after being up most of the night he needed the jolt of caffeine.

Brett removed his Stetson and raked his hand through his hair. “Thanks, man.”

“Look, Brett, we may be here for hours. Why don't you go on home to Willow and Sam?” A twinge of jealousy niggled at Ray. Brett and Maddox both had families now, women who loved and cared about them.

Nobody gave a damn about him.

He'd always liked it that way. But Scarlet's face flashed in his mind—an image of her nearly naked, her cheeks flushed with passion—and he had an urge to go back to her tonight.

Brett glanced up at him, a sheepish look on his face. “I do miss them, but I don't want to let you or Maddox down, Ray. Finding out who set fire to those barns is important. They might try again.”

Ray's gut tightened, feeling more connected to his brothers than he had in years. “You're right. If they attack the ranch, they attack us. All the more reason you should go home to your wife and son,” he continued. “They need you. And someone should be on the ranch in case something else happens.”

“I left Clyde in charge.”

“I know he cares about Horseshoe Creek,” Ray said. “But not like we do.”

A grin tugged at Brett's face. “That mean you're not going to sell out and leave?”

“I'm not selling,” Ray said emphatically. Although he didn't know if he'd stick around. Coming back home to Pistol Whip had triggered the sense of betrayal he'd felt at his father's affair.

It had also stirred good memories of carousing with his brothers when he was small. Of riding across the ranch, working with his hands and living off the land.

Not that he'd give up his PI business. He liked his work. But he could do that here...

He gritted his teeth. Was he really thinking about moving back?

“Seriously, Brett, go home. I'll call you if Hardwick wakes up and I talk to him.”

Brett looked reluctant, but finally agreed. “Thanks, man.”

Ray nodded, grateful Brett would be at the ranch tonight in case more trouble arose. If Bennett had hired Hardwick or someone else to set the fire, he could have others working for him.

Just as Brett left, his phone buzzed. Deputy Whitefeather. “Yeah?”

“I talked to Scarlet. She's safe now. I'll take care of the restraining order.”

“Thanks. Any word on the DNA from that cigarette?'

“Not yet. I'll call the lab and ask them to hurry it up.”

“Thanks. I'm at the hospital. We got a lead from one of our hands about a worker named Hardwick. Brett and I tracked him to The Silver Bullet but he ran. We chased him in our car, but he crashed. He's in the ER now.”

“You want me to meet you there?”

“No, just find out what you can on Hardwick. If we can trace financials between Bennett and him, or if Hardwick has a record, we could use it to force him to talk.”

“I'm on it, but so far on paper Bennett looks legit.”

“Keep at it.”

“I will.” The deputy hesitated. “Call me if you remember anything else about the man who attacked you.”

Ray agreed, and the deputy ended the call. Ray sipped his coffee and paced while he waited on the doctor to let him speak to Hardwick.

A half hour later, the nurse finally relayed the news that Hardwick was going to make it, and that he was awake.

Ray followed her to the ER cube, his body tense as he approached the man. Hardwick was battered and bruised, a bandage around his head, one arm in a sling. His eyes looked bleary as he followed Ray's approach.

“Looks like you're going to make it, Hardwick. I talked to the deputy. He'll transport you to jail as soon as you're released.”

Hardwick's eyes widened in fear. “What the hell for? I haven't done anything.”

“It was your cigarette butt in the barn, wasn't it? Did Bennett pay you to set the barn on fire?”

Hardwick coughed, his voice weak. “No, just to report back what you were doing.”

Ray heaved a breath. So he admitted being at the barn. “I don't believe you,” Ray said. “I think he wanted you to sabotage our place and that he has more plans, maybe something bigger.”

Hardwick broke into another coughing fit, the machine beeping that his blood pressure was dropping.

The nurse rushed in with a scowl. “You'll have to go, sir.”

Ray leaned closer to Hardwick. “If you didn't do it, give me a name.”

Hardwick coughed again, struggling with each breath, and the nurse grabbed Ray's arm. “I said you need to leave.”

Ray held firm and growled in Hardwick's ear. “Tell me, dammit.”