Rodeo Daddy

by B. J Daniels

  “You’re beautiful and a quick study,” he said, meaning every word of it.

  She smiled shyly.

  “By the way, you’re dancing,” he added.

  She stumbled and he laughed as he got her started again. “Chelsea’s right,” she said. “It’s not hard.”

  Chelsea, he realized, was right about a lot of things. He glanced over to where she was dancing with Dylan Garrett. Their conversation seemed to have turned serious, and he wondered what they were talking about.

  One of Sam’s new friends signaled to her. “Can I go, Dad?”

  “Sure.” He watched her leave, then moved toward Chelsea, unable to wait until the dance ended to have her in his arms again. He realized he’d put off talking to her about their future long enough.

  * * *

  “I FORGOT TO tell you, I finally got everything back on Jack,” Dylan said as he and Chelsea danced. “Chelsea?”

  She jerked her attention back to Dylan. “Sorry, I was just…”

  “Yes,” he said, smiling. “Looking at Jack dancing with his daughter.”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “Now, what were you saying?”

  “Jack. I’m impressed by what he’d done.”

  “His bull riding,” she said with pride. “Seven world championships in eight years.”

  “No, I meant his net worth. It’s quite impressive, especially given that he’s done it in less than ten years.”

  “His what?”

  Dylan looked puzzled. “I just assumed you knew. Jack grossed over two hundred thousand dollars most years on the circuit. He invested the bulk of the money in high-rate stocks and switched them to less risky ventures before the big drop in the market.”

  Her feet stopped moving to the music. “Are you telling me that Jack has money?”

  “He’s wealthy by most people’s standards,” Dylan said. “You didn’t know?”

  “No, I didn’t.” The old motor home, the tight traveling budget, the worn jeans. He let her think he was poor, while at the same time giving her a hard time about her money.

  “Excuse me,” Jack said from behind her. “Mind if I cut in?”

  Chelsea smiled at Dylan. “Thank you. If you’ll excuse me…” Then she turned to face Jack.

  * * *

  JACK KNEW at once that she was mad. He could tell by the glint in her brown eyes and the tight set of her jaw. “What’s wrong?” he asked as he drew her into his arms.

  “You have money.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yes.” She snapped. “You led me to believe you were poor.”

  “You came to that conclusion on your own,” he defended.

  “What else would I think, considering the way you live?” she demanded, obviously trying to keep her voice down.

  “We live just fine, thank you.”

  “The point is, all this time you’ve been giving me a hard time about my money when you had money, a lot of money, of your own.”

  She had him there.

  “Not as much as you by any means, but I’ve done all right.”

  When the music stopped, she stepped out of his arms. “My money was just an easy excuse, wasn’t it? You’ve been using one excuse after another to prove you and I are wrong for each other. But you missed an obvious one. You don’t love me enough to realize that it doesn’t make any difference who has the money or who doesn’t.” With that she spun on her heel and headed toward the door.

  He started after her, but had to stop to allow a waiter in with a dessert cart.

  By the time he stepped out into the hall, Chelsea was gone. He couldn’t leave without Sam, so he set off to find his daughter.

  * * *

  CHELSEA COULDN’T remember the last time she’d been so angry. Tears blinded her as she rushed out into the cool night air. She’d walked three blocks in the wrong direction before she’d realized what she was doing. Turning around, she headed back toward the restaurant and her car. She’d just rounded the dark side of the building when she saw a figure leaning against the wall out of the light. For just an instant, she thought it was Jack.

  “Sis?”

  Hurriedly wiping her eyes, she turned to face her brother. He’d obviously sneaked out here to get a breath of fresh air. He’d never been much for crowds.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Fine.”

  She couldn’t fool Cody.

  “Right. Let me guess. Jack?”

  “I just found out he’s made a small fortune the last ten years rodeoing.”

  Cody lifted a brow. “And that’s a problem?”

  “It is when he didn’t bother to tell me about it,” she snapped.

  “Maybe he was worried that you’d only want him for his money,” Cody said.

  “Ha-ha.”

  “Did you tell him your plan to sell your half of the Wishing Tree to me?” her brother asked, looking concerned.

  “No, it hasn’t come up yet.”

  Cody shook his head. “It sounds to me like the two of you need to sit down and be honest with each other.”

  She looked at her brother in surprise.

  He shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m still not sure he’s good enough for you, but then I can’t think of any man I’d consider worthy of my little sister. The thing is, it’s pretty obvious how you feel about this guy. So if Jack’s the man you want…”

  She threw her arms around her brother and squeezed as hard as she could. “He is, damn it.”

  Cody laughed. “You know, as big as the Wishing Tree is, there’s plenty of room for all of us. You don’t have to sell your half.”

  She’d left the papers in the glove box of her car. “Thanks. I appreciate that. But I could never get Jack to come back to the ranch. I’ll get the papers. Meet you back inside?”

  “There’s no rush,” Cody told her.

  Chelsea shook her head. “I’ve made up my mind—I don’t want to wait any longer.”

  Cody nodded.

  “If you see Jack—”

  “I’ll hog-tie him if I have to so the two of you can settle this once and for all,” Cody said. “If he’s going to be in this family, he’s going to have to learn how to handle you.” He grinned. “Not that you need handling, little sis.”

  She shook her head, smiling, and headed for her car. That’s when she saw the clown.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHELSEA WAS WRONG. Jack did love her enough. Enough to give up the one thing that had saved him ten years ago: rodeo. He’d planned to tell her tonight, after the wedding.

  But now she’d stormed off. He glanced out the back door of the restaurant. Her car was still in the lot, so maybe she hadn’t left. He went into the reception room to look for Sam, all the while facing some cold hard facts about himself.

  After this week with Chelsea, he’d realized that the biggest obstacle was money. He’d been competing with her wealth and felt he had nothing to offer her. Now he saw how foolish his misplaced pride had been. He had no reason to be ashamed of his accomplishments, and the only thing that mattered was the fact that he loved her and couldn’t bear facing the future without her.

  He had enough money of his own to buy a nice-size ranch. Nothing as big as the Wishing Tree, but he knew of one for sale that was adjacent to Chelsea’s ranch. He could almost afford it. Just a few more rides… This morning he’d made arrangements to lease it with the option to buy in the next year.

  At first he’d balked at being that close to her family ranch. But he knew how much Chelsea would love being able to ride over and see her brother whenever she wanted. How much she would love being that close to the place she considered home.

  It seemed like a decent compromise, but in order to afford it, he’d have to make it to the National Finals this year and win a few more large purses. He didn’t want to use any of Chelsea’s money to buy the ranch. Even now, he had to do this on his own. His only regret was not being honest with her about the money he’d made.

  The pro
blem was, he still didn’t have much faith that she’d agree to another ranch. He knew she had her heart set on taking him and Sam back to the Wishing Tree.

  “Just the man I want to see,” Cody said as he almost collided with Jack.

  “I take it you’ve seen Chelsea?” Jack said to him.

  Cody grinned. “That’s why you and I have to talk.”

  “I just need to find Sam first,” Jack said, looking through the crowd for her.

  “Daddy!”

  They turned at Sam’s cry to see her running toward them, out of breath and crying something about a clown and Chelsea.

  Jack swung his daughter up into his arms. “Easy, honey,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

  “The clown,” Sam cried. “He took Chelsea.”

  “What clown?” Cody asked.

  “A rodeo clown. He had C.J.’s face.”

  Jack’s heart began to pound. A rodeo clown with a dead man’s makeup?

  Between sobs, Sam told them she’d seen the clown near Chelsea’s car and went over, thinking it was C. J. Crocker. Then she remembered that he was dead. Scared, she’d dropped down beside another car to hide. She hadn’t even seen Chelsea approach until the clown grabbed her and forced her into the car by putting something over her mouth. Before Sam could move, the clown jumped in and took off with Chelsea in the car.

  “In her car?” Cody asked.

  Sam nodded.

  “Did he say anything to Chelsea?” Jack asked, his throat so dry he could barely speak.

  “He said he was taking her to a wishing well.”

  Jack exchanged a look with Cody. The Wishing Tree. Dylan’s sister Lily had approached and heard the last part of the conversation. “Samantha, why don’t you stay here with me,” she said quickly, exchanging an assuring look with Jack. “Your dad and Cody need to go get Chelsea.”

  “Is Dylan still around?” Cody asked Lily.

  She shook her head. “He got a call about Lance Prescott and had to leave.” Her look said the call had not been good, otherwise he would never have cut out on Ashley’s wedding. “Do you want me to try to reach him or call the police?”

  “Call the police,” Cody said. “Tell them to head out to the ranch.” He started toward the door. “My truck’s right outside.”

  “I’m going with you,” Jack said as he hugged Sam. “Stay with Lily. I’ll be back with Chelsea.”

  “Don’t worry,” Lily said. “I’ll take good care of her. She’ll be at my house.”

  Jack followed Cody outside to his pickup, climbed into the passenger side and buckled up as Cody took off toward the Wishing Tree—a place Jack thought he’d never see again, but now couldn’t wait to get to.

  * * *

  CHELSEA WOKE to a crack of thunder. She opened her eyes, at first seeing nothing but darkness, then the thin beam of a flashlight as it bobbed across the bunkhouse floor.

  In the glow of the light, Chelsea realized she was lying on one of the beds in the bunkhouse at the Wishing Tree. That surprised her. But not as much as the realization that her wrists were bound together with duct tape and the bunkhouse was being ransacked by the person with the flashlight.

  She tried to sit up, but her head swam and her stomach roiled. Her mouth felt dust dry as she lay back down and tried to imagine how she’d gotten here.

  “Finally awake, are you?”

  The voice startled her, but not as much as the clown face that suddenly appeared in the beam of the flashlight. For just a split second, she thought it was C. J. Crocker come back from the dead.

  But ghosts didn’t abduct you from restaurant parking lots or drug you and tie you up with duct tape.

  “Where is the evidence?” the clown demanded. “He said it was hidden in the bunkhouse.”

  Chelsea stared at the face in confusion. C. J. Crocker’s clown face, but with the wrong voice.

  “Who…?” Chelsea heard herself say, feeling groggy as the clown jerked her upright on the bed.

  “Ace.” The clown stepped closer, looking enough like Crocker to give her a chill. But the eyes were all wrong. Just like the voice. “Ace told me before he died. Told me the only other person who knew was you.”

  Ace was dead? Chelsea shook her head as she tried to understand why Roberta Crandell was standing over her with a flashlight in Crocker’s costume.

  The older woman went into the bathroom and came back with a wet towel. “Snap out of it,” she said, squeezing the cold water over Chelsea’s face. “I want that evidence. Now.”

  Chelsea shivered and sat up, still woozy. She glanced around the bunkhouse, trying to make sense of what Roberta was saying. “Evidence?”

  “The evidence that proves Ray Dale was murdered?”

  She blinked at Roberta. “Ace left evidence that he murdered Ray Dale?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me, Chelsea,” Roberta snapped. “You know Ace didn’t kill Ray Dale or we wouldn’t be here right now and Ace wouldn’t have been blackmailing me for the last ten years. If I’d known it was that little weasel, I’d have killed him years ago. The negatives. Where did he hide them?”

  Ace had witnessed Ray Dale’s murder and been blackmailing Roberta?

  But then that meant Roberta—“You killed Ray Dale?”

  “Just like you kill any rank animal that turns on you,” she said with disgust.

  “But I thought Ace—”

  “The little weasel upped the ante, demanding more blackmail money,” Roberta said with disgust. “You had to go and offer that ten-thousand-dollar reward. Ace knew it was just a matter of time before one of those cowhands came forward and told you that Ace hadn’t been in the bunkhouse the night Ray Dale was killed. Then I would know who’d been squeezing me dry for ten years.” Her clown smile was frightening. “Ace knew his life wasn’t worth dust when that happened. He was already a blackmailer. Stepping up to murder wasn’t hard, not when he had no choice but to keep those cowhands from talking. With that plane of his, he could fly in and out and no one was the wiser.”

  Ace had killed C.J. and Tucker and Lance. Chelsea felt sick, remembered flying with him, then realized that left only one other cowhand from that summer. “Jack?” she asked, her heart pounding.

  Roberta shook her head. “I knew Jack wasn’t my blackmailer. Not the way he lived. Ace thought Jack didn’t know anything, otherwise wouldn’t Jack have told your old man the day Ryder fired him?”

  Jack was all right. Chelsea felt a wave of relief.

  Roberta’s gaze narrowed, her clown makeup smeared and dusty from searching the bunkhouse. “That just leaves you. I know Ace told you about the photos he took that night in Box Canyon—”

  Chelsea started to argue that she didn’t know anything about any photos, but Roberta grabbed her by the throat and jerked her to her feet before she could speak. “Believe me, I can get you to talk—just like I did Ace before he died.”

  Chelsea felt the cold steel of the knife blade at her throat. Roberta was strong from years of ranch work. And smart. Hadn’t Chelsea’s father told her that Roberta was the one who’d gotten Lloyd involved in rodeo stock and been a big factor in making their company a success? A business she and Lloyd had started from scratch ten years ago. Had it all been financed by Roberta’s rustling money?

  “Ace better not have lied to me,” Roberta said, not sounding quite so sure now. “You do know where the negatives are, don’t you?”

  Chelsea was aware enough to realize that if she didn’t know, Roberta had no reason to keep her alive. She glanced around the bunkhouse, wondering where Ace could have hidden the negatives. He had obviously lied about her knowing where they were. But why? Had he been hoping to save his own skin? Chelsea wondered if there really were any photos, let alone negatives.

  All she could do was stall for time. Cody was bound to be home soon. He’d be looking for her when she didn’t return with the papers on the ranch. But he wouldn’t be looking for her at the Wishing Tree, she realized with an inward groan.

  The
one thing Chelsea didn’t doubt was that Roberta planned to kill her once she found the negatives—if they did exist. She tried to think on her feet, but the drug was still making her lightheaded.

  “Cut the tape from my wrists so I can show you,” Chelsea told the woman.

  “Yeah right,” Roberta said.

  “I’m not sure exactly where they are,” Chelsea told her. “I’m going to need my hands free to find them.”

  She must have sounded convincing.

  “Just remember, I have the knife and I’ll use it if you make one wrong move,” Roberta warned. “If you’d ever seen me skin a rattler, you’d know that I’m a natural with a knife.”

  She sliced the duct tape with the sharp blade. Chelsea rubbed her wrists for a moment.

  “Come on, quit stalling,” Roberta snapped.

  “Give me your flashlight. I’m going to have to crawl up into the attic.”

  Roberta looked skeptical. “I already searched up there.”

  “Not everywhere, obviously.”

  Chelsea took the flashlight and went over to the straight-back chair that Roberta had pulled up under the opening to the small attic. She could feel the fresh air coming in from the open door of the bunkhouse. Roberta was watching the main road into the ranch, no doubt worried that Cody would be returning from the wedding soon.

  The Mercedes was parked out front. Even if Roberta had the keys, Chelsea had a spare in the glove box. She’d have to move fast—

  She pretended to slide the chair into a better spot, then saw her chance. With the chair still in her hands, she flung it at Roberta, then dived for the door, slamming it behind her.

  What she hadn’t planned on was how fast the older woman would recover and how much the drug slowed her own escape. Roberta came tearing after her, but Chelsea spun around and flung the flashlight at her, then grabbed the Mercedes door handle and jerked it open.

  Roberta hit her hard, knocking her to the ground, before she could get inside. Then the woman was on her, the knife blade glinting in the moonlight.

  “You are going to be very sorry for that,” Roberta snarled. “Very sorry.”

  * * *

  JACK TRIED to rein in the fear, telling himself that Ace was too smart to kill Chelsea. But three people were already dead.