by Rita Herron
“We should go,” Brett said in a deep voice. “I want to use Maddox’s computer while he’s at his office and see what I can learn about Leo and that man, Gus.”
Willow grabbed Sam’s dinosaur and the throw he liked, a plush brown one with more horses on it, and clutched them to her. Brett carried her overnight bag, and she followed him outside to his truck.
Sam’s sweet little-boy scent enveloped her as she pressed the dinosaur to her cheek, and emotions welled inside her. Last week they’d talked about Christmas and finding a tree to cut down on their own this year. They’d planned to decorate using a Western-themed tree with horse and farm-animal ornaments, since Sam was infatuated by the ranches nearby.
If only he knew his father lived on a spread like Horseshoe Creek, and that he was a rodeo star...
One day, maybe. Although, Sam might hate her for lying to him about his father.
* * *
BRETT PARKED AT the ranch house, grateful Maddox’s SUV was gone and Mama Mary’s Jeep wasn’t in the drive. She usually liked to grocery shop or visit friends from the church in the morning or early afternoon, but came home in plenty of time to make supper.
Maddox had another cook who prepared food for the ranch hands, and a separate dining hall for them to eat, as well.
He had no idea where Ray was. He’d made himself scarce since the funeral, probably biding his time until the reading of the will, after which he could head out of town.
“I’m sorry for taking you away from your family,” Willow said. “I know this is a difficult time for you and your brothers, and you need to be spending time with them.”
He hated to admit it, but he hadn’t thought much about them since Willow’s panicked phone call. “Don’t worry about us. Our problems have nothing to do with you.” Except of course, Maddox would disagree when he discovered Brett was covering up a murder, and he’d buried Willow’s husband on McCullen land. Land as sacred to Maddox as it had been to Joe McCullen.
His conversation with his father about Willow having trouble echoed in his head, and he wondered if his dad had known more about Leo than he’d revealed.
The sound of cattle and horses in the distance took some of the edge off Brett’s emotions as he and Willow walked up to the house. “You didn’t eat your breakfast,” Brett said. “I’m sure Mama Mary left something for lunch.”
Willow paused to watch a quarter horse galloping in the pasture. “I’m not really hungry, Brett.”
“I know, but you have to keep up your strength. I’ll get us something if you want to relax in the office.”
She mumbled okay, then he ushered her to the corner table in the gigantic office their father shared with Maddox, while Brett hurried to the kitchen and found meat loaf sandwiches already prepared, as if Mama Mary remembered their high school days when the boys had worked the ranch and come in starved.
He poured two glasses of tea and carried them and the sandwiches to the office. Willow nibbled on hers, while he consumed his in three bites. Their father’s computer was ancient, but Maddox had installed a new one for the ranch business, one he also used for work when he was out of the office.
He attempted to access police databases, but doing so required a password. He tried Maddox’s birthday, then the name of Maddox’s first pony and their first dog. None fit.
He stewed over it for a minute, then plugged in their father’s birthday. Bingo.
Determined to find answers for Willow, he punched Leo’s name into the system. DMV records showed he had a current driver’s license, then Brett ran a background check.
“Willow, listen to this. Leo Howard was born to Janie and Hicks Howard thirty-two years ago, although Janie died when Leo was five. His father, Hicks, worked in a factory that made farm equipment, but he suffered debilitating injuries from a freak tractor accident on his own farm six years ago.”
Willow nearly choked on the sandwich, and sipped her tea. “I still don’t understand why he wouldn’t tell me his father was alive.”
“It’s worth paying his father a visit to find out.”
She wiped her mouth on a napkin and peered at the screen over his shoulder.
He ran a search for police records and watched as a photo of a man named Leo Stromberg, then Leo Hammerstein, popped up, both bearing Leo Howard’s photo—both aliases.
Willow gasped. “Oh, my goodness. Leo had a police record.”
“For stealing from his boss, a rancher named Boyle Gates, but apparently Gates dropped the charges.” He scrolled farther. “But it says here he was implicated in a cattle-rustling operation. One of the men, Dale Franklin, was killed during the arrest. The other, Gus Garcia, is in prison serving time for the crime.”
“How did Leo escape prison time?”
“Apparently Garcia copped to the crime. Although the police suspected a large cattle rustling operation, Garcia insisted that no one else except Franklin was involved. Franklin died in the arrest. Garcia is still in prison.”
“You think he has something to do with Leo and Sam’s disappearance?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out.” Brett jotted down Garcia’s full name, then the address for Leo’s father. “First we’ll pay a visit to Hicks Howard, then we’ll go see Garcia.”
An engine rumbled outside, then quieted, and Brett heard the front door open and slam. He flipped off the computer, ushered Willow over to the table and picked up his tea.
The door to the office screeched open, and Maddox filled the doorway, his broad shoulders squared, that air of superiority and disapproval radiating from him.
“What’s going on here?”
Brett shrugged. “Willow stopped by to pay her condolences about Dad.”
Maddox tipped his Stetson toward Willow in a polite greeting. “Hey, Willow. Nice to see you. How’s your boy?”
Willow’s eyes darkened with pain, but she quickly covered her emotions. “He’s growing up fast.”
Maddox smiled at her, but looked back at Brett. “You’re having lunch in Dad’s office?”
Brett shrugged and said the first thing that entered his head. “Thought I’d feel closer to Dad this way.”
Maddox’s brows quirked as if he didn’t believe him, but Brett had spoken a half-truth. He did feel closer to his father in this room. He envisioned Joe resting in his big recliner with his nightly shot of bourbon, a book in his hand, his head lolling to the side as he nodded off.
Maddox gave him an odd look, then at least pretended to buy the lie. Brett was grateful for that.
But he picked up his and Willow’s plates and tea glasses and carried them to the kitchen, anxious to leave.
The day was passing quickly, and he didn’t want Willow to spend another night without her son.
* * *
EARLY AFTERNOON SUNLIGHT faded beneath the gray clouds as Brett maneuvered the long drive to Hicks Howard’s farm. The place was miles from nowhere and looked as if it hadn’t been operational in years. Run-down outbuildings, overgrown pastures and a muddy pond added to the neglected feel.
If Leo had come here, it had probably been to hide out. But if he was in trouble, whoever he’d crossed had found him anyway.
Willow checked her phone again, willing it to ring with some word on Sam. Why hadn’t the kidnapper called yet?
Terrifying scenarios raced through her head, but she forced herself to tune them out. She had to think positive, had to believe that she would bring Sam home.
Willow tensed, her chest hurting. Maybe she should tell Brett that Sam wasn’t Leo’s now. But...she wasn’t ready for his reaction, for the anger, to explain why she’d kept her secret for so long.
Granted, she’d had her reasons. Brett had left her to sow his oats. He hadn’t wanted to settle down. If he’d stayed around, he would have known about Sam.
Brett rolled to a stop beside a tractor overgrown by weeds. It looked as if it hadn’t been used in a decade. A rusted pickup covered in mud sat under an aluminum shed.
As he approached, a mangy-looking gray cat darted beneath the porch of the wooden house. Boards were rotting on the floor, and the shutters were weathered, paint peeling.
Brett knocked on the door, and a noise sounded inside. Something banging, maybe a hammer. He knocked louder this time, and a minute later, the hammering stopped and a man yelled to hang on.
The door opened and a craggy, thin, balding man leaning on a walker stared up at them over wire-rimmed glasses. “If you’re selling something, I don’t want it.”
“We’re not selling anything. We just want to talk.” Brett gestured to Willow, and she introduced herself.
“Mr. Howard, I was married to your son, Leo.”
“What?” The man grunted as he shifted his weight. “I hate to say it, honey, but you don’t look like Leo’s type.” He raked his gaze up and down her body. “My son usually goes for the more showy girls.”
Remembering Doris, she understood his point. “Did Leo tell you he was married?”
The older man scratched at the beard stubble on his chin. “No, but he didn’t come around much.”
“Why was that?” Brett asked.
Mr. Howard wrinkled his nose. “Why you folks asking about my son? Is he in some kind of trouble?”
“Would it surprise you if I said he was?” Brett asked.
“No. Leo was always messing up, skirting the law. From the time he was a teenager, he hated this farm. I was never good enough for him, never made enough money.” He gestured at the walker and his bum leg. “When he left here, he said he was going to show me that he wasn’t stupid like me. That he’d be rich one day.”
“Was he?” Willow asked.
Howard shrugged. “About five years ago he came back with a duffel bag of money, all puffed up with himself. But when I asked him how he got it, he hem-hawed around.”
“You thought he’d gotten it illegally?” Willow asked.
His head bobbed up and down. “I confronted him, and that’s when he came at me.” He gestured toward his leg. “That’s how come I had my accident.”
Willow’s pulse hammered. Leo had caused his father’s accident? No wonder he hadn’t told her about him...
* * *
THE MORE BRETT learned about Leo Howard, the less he liked him. “Did he give you an indication as to how he got the money?”
“At first I thought he probably won it at the races, but when I was in the hospital after my leg got all torn up, the sheriff over in Rawlins stopped by and asked me if Leo stole some money from his boss. Some big hotshot rancher.”
“Boyle Gates?”
“Yeah, I believe that was his name.”
“Gates dropped the charges?” Brett asked.
Howard coughed. “Yeah. Don’t ask me why, though.”
Brett studied the old man. “You must have been angry at your son for the way he treated you.”
“Like I said, he was trouble. I did all I could to help him, but it wasn’t ever enough.”
“Leo and I were separated for the past three years,” Willow interjected. “Have you talked to him during that time?”
Howard shook his head no.
“Do you know any of his friends or men he worked with?”
“No, I think he was too ashamed of me to bring any of them around.”
Or maybe he’d been too ashamed of his own friends, since they were probably crooks.
* * *
KNOWING THAT LEO had hurt his father made Willow feel ill. How had she not seen beneath his facade?
Family meant everything to her. Not money. But obviously Leo had wanted wealth and would use anyone in his path to obtain it.
Brett left his phone number in case the man thought of someone Leo might have contacted the past year.
“You didn’t tell him that he has a grandson,” Brett said as they settled back inside his truck.
Willow’s heart pounded. She hated to keep lying to Brett, especially when he was helping her. But she needed to find the right moment to tell him the truth.
Suddenly her phone buzzed, and she quickly checked the number. Unknown. Fear and hope mingled as she punched Connect.
“Hello,” Willow said in a choked whisper.
“You want to see your son again?”
“Yes. Please don’t hurt him.”
Brett covered her hand with his, so they were both holding the phone and he could hear. “We need proof that Sam is all right.”
“I told you not to call the cops,” the man shouted.
“He’s not a cop,” Willow said, panicked. “He’s just a friend.”
“You want to see your son alive, do what we say.”
“I will, I promise. Just tell me what you want.”
“The half million Leo stashed. We’ll contact you with the drop.”
Willow’s stomach contracted. Leo had a half million dollars stashed somewhere?
“Let me speak to Sam,” she whispered.
But the line clicked to silent. A second later, the phone dinged with a text.
Willow started to tremble as she looked at the image. It was a picture of Sam on a cot, clutching a raggedy blanket, tears streaming down his face.
Emotions overcame her and a sob wrenched from her throat. Sam was alive.
But he looked terrified, and she had no idea what money the man was talking about, or how to find it.
Chapter Nine
Willow pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming.
Brett dragged her into his arms, and she collapsed against his chest, her body shaking with the horror of that photograph.
“Shh, it’s going to be all right,” Brett said in a low, gruff voice. “We’ll find him, I swear.”
Willow gulped as she dug her nails into his chest. “What kind of horrible person scares a child like that?”
Brett stroked her hair, his head against hers, as if he wanted to absorb her pain. He’d always acted tough, but he was tenderhearted and had confessed how much he’d hurt when he’d lost his mother. And now he’d lost his dad, and she was dumping on him.
If he knew Sam was his, he’d probably be hurting even more...
Maybe it was best she not tell him yet. They needed to work together and if he was mad at her, that might be impossible.
Besides, when she brought Sam home and he grew attached to Brett, it would be even more difficult when Brett left town.
And he would return to the rodeo. Roaming and riding was in his blood.
He rocked her in his arms, and it had been so long since she’d been held and loved that she savored being close to him again. She had always loved Brett and had missed him so much.
Yet when this was over, Brett would go back to all those other women. If she let herself love him again, she might fall apart when he walked away. And she couldn’t do that. She had to be strong for Sam.
Her heart in her throat, she forced herself to release him, then inhaled to gather her composure. She could still feel the tenderness in his arms and the worry in his voice.
He’d promised her he’d find Sam, but they both knew he might not be able to keep that promise. That the men who’d abducted Sam were very bad.
“Willow, did you know anything about Leo having a half million dollars?”
A sarcastic laugh bubbled in her throat. “Of course not. Like I said earlier, he claimed he’d made good money before we married, but I never saw it. He said he’d invested it and when the investment paid off, he was going to buy a big spread for us. But things fell apart shortly after the wedding.” And now she realized he’d agreed only because he’d married her as a cover for himself.
Brett veered onto the road and drove away from the Howards’ property. “What happened?”
Willow shrugged. She really didn’t want to talk about Leo. Leo was the biggest mistake of her life.
“Willow, we were friends once. It might help if you told me.”
Friends? He’d been the love of her life.
But right now she needed whatever he c
ould give her. “Leo acted stressed all the time. Secretive. He left for days, sometimes weeks, at a time. And when I asked about his trips, he got angry and said he was trying to make it big. I...told him I didn’t care about money, but he was obsessed.”
“Just like his father said.”
Willow nodded. She didn’t care why Leo had stolen money or that he’d lied about his father.
All she cared about was who he’d angered enough to take her son.
* * *
BRETT STEERED THE TRUCK toward Rawlins, where the state prison was, hoping Gus Garcia had some answers.
He’d do anything to alleviate Willow’s pain. Granted he didn’t have a kid, but if he did, he’d be blind with fear right now.
And he’d kill anyone who tried to hurt his child.
Hell, he’d kill anyone who hurt Willow’s child.
His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the caller ID display. His publicist and agent, Ginger Redman. Knowing she’d badger him to get back to work, he let it roll to voice mail.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Willow asked.
“It’s not important,” Brett said and realized that for the first time in years, his career wasn’t his top priority. He’d chased his dreams and become popular and had his picture taken a thousand times.
But he’d missed years with his father, he and his brothers were barely speaking, and he’d lost Willow to another man. They should have had a family together.
But...he’d had a wild streak and had to see what was out in the world.
He glanced at Willow and chewed the inside of his cheek. He had to admit he’d had a lot of women since he’d left Horseshoe Creek. Not as many as the tabloids reported, but enough so that he couldn’t remember all their names or faces.
But the only one he’d ever cared about was the woman sitting in the seat next to him.
“Maybe Leo hid that money in his truck,” Willow said, her lost expression tearing at him.
“I searched the truck and didn’t find any money.” Brett gave her a look of regret. “Can you think of anywhere else he’d hide it? Did he have a safety deposit box?”
Willow rubbed the space between her eyes as if she was thinking hard. “Not that I know of.”