“You can do what you want, of course. But since you’re in Montana already, you may as well drive over and check out the place, make sure you really want to sell.”
“I do.”
“So you’ve said. I just thought you might want to find out why a ranch that was owned free and clear was losing money hand over fist—at least until recently.”
Denver considered. He knew why: poor management. Curtis Kramer knew horses but couldn’t handle a ranch. Denver’s father had seen it and had been ready to let Curtis go just before the fire ... the damned fire. Unfortunately Uncle John had kept Tessa’s old man on. No one could prove Curtis had started the blaze, and John had been convinced of the man’s innocence. Denver wasn’t so sure. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “Isn’t finding out how much the ranch is worth and how much it earns a job for the bank that’s probating the estate?”
Ross smiled crookedly. “Are you willing to trust someone from Second Western Bank to understand the ins and outs of ranching?”
Denver snorted.
“Right.” Ross tugged on his tie. “Of course it’s up to you. It’s yours now.”
“Great. Just great.” Denver shoved his chair back and strode angrily out the door, past the blond receptionist and through the labyrinthine corridors of the law firm—the largest in Helena, Montana. Although small compared to most in Los Angeles, where Denver had lived for the past seven years, the firm of O’Brien, Simmons and Taft was top-notch even by California’s high standards, and Ross Anderson, a junior partner, knew his stuff.
Shouldering open the glass door, Denver stalked onto the street. The pace in Helena was much slower than that in Los Angeles and Denver was restless. Ross’s advice followed him into the parking lot where his rented car was baking in the late-afternoon sun. Clouds gathered above, but there wasn’t a breath of wind, and the humidity was unusually high, the air sticky.
Denver climbed in and switched on the ignition, unwillingly remembering the inferno.
* * *
It had all happened so fast. One minute he’d been lying on Tessa, her dew-covered skin fusing with his own, her lips soft and sensuous, her hazel eyes glazed in passion—the next he’d witnessed the horror of the blaze, horses screaming in death throes, hooves crashing in the billowing, lung-burning smoke. He’d felt the explosion, been thrown to the floor.
When he finally awakened, his skin burning, his face and hands unrecognizable, it had been three days later. He’d learned the devastating news: both his parents had been killed.
Colton, eyes red and shadowed, coffee-colored hair falling over his eyes, had been waiting for Denver to wake up.
“It’s old man Kramer’s fault,” Colton insisted as he huddled near Denver’s bed, avoiding his eyes and watching the steady drip of an IV tube that ran directly into the back of Denver’s right hand.
“How—how could it be?” God, he hurt all over.
“He’s been stealing from the ranch. He was up in the office altering the books when the fire started. If you ask me, he did it to destroy the evidence.”
“You can’t prove it.”
“Can’t I?” Colton thundered, his gray eyes sizzling like lightning. “Weren’t you supposed to go over the books that day? Didn’t Tessa insist that you go riding with her instead?” He stood then, the back of his neck dark in anger, his boots muffled on the carpeting.
Denver’s dry throat worked in defense.
“What did she do? Seduce you?” Colton must have seen some betraying spark in Denver’s eyes. “Of course she did,” he muttered in disgust.
“No—”
“Don’t you see? It was all part of the plan—Curtis’s plan to rip off the ranch! Dad was on to him, and he had to cover his tracks.”
“No way!” Denver rasped.
“Whose idea was it to go riding?”
Denver didn’t answer.
“Right. And I’ll bet Tessa was more than willing.”
“Get out of here.”
Colton didn’t move. “You’re a blind man, brother! She and that drunk of an old man of hers have been bleeding us dry. I’d even bet Mitch is in on it with them.”
Denver tried to sit up, pushing aside the pain that scorched the length of his body. “I won’t believe—”
“Then don’t. But think about this. Mom and Dad are dead, Denver. Dead! Dad thought Curtis was embezzling, and he was out to prove it. Doesn’t it seem a little too convenient that all the records were destroyed on the day Dad asked you to go over the books?”