had been so eager to marry him, she’d forgone a big, splashy wedding for a simple ceremony in the judge’s chambers. Ross didn’t understand such love and devotion. At least, he’d never felt it for any woman. But he was glad his sister was happy at last. Her marriage was the only joyful thing that had happened around the T Bar K in years.
“I’ll still be in and out,” Victoria assured him, then, with a grateful glance at her husband, added, “but Jess will be with me. In the meantime, Neal Rankin is expecting you in his office tomorrow morning at nine.”
Neal Rankin was the attorney the Ketchums used for all the legal business concerning the T Bar K. Along with being their attorney, he’d been a good friend to Ross and Victoria ever since their childhood days.
Frowning, Ross looked up from unbuckling his spurs. “Rankin? What for? Don’t tell me that something is wrong with the ranch’s books?”
“No. It’s not the books,” Victoria told him. “He wants to speak with you about this shooting incident.”
Ross snorted a laugh. “Since when did Neal Rankin think he was a criminal attorney? He must be needing a vacation.”
“With friends like you, I’m sure he does need a vacation,” Victoria shot back at her brother. “But he wants to speak with you just the same. We—uh, he thinks we need to hire a defense attorney for you.”
Leaning down once again, Ross pulled the sundial spurs from the heels of his boots. He’d been in the saddle all day. He was tired. He needed a shower and bed. He didn’t want to talk about, or even think about, attorneys and shootings and jail.
“Oh hell, I don’t need a defense attorney.”
“Then you’d better tell Neal that in the morning,” Victoria said flatly. “Because he thinks you’re in trouble.”
Grinning, Ross winked at her. “Trouble is my middle name, Sis. Everybody in San Juan County, New Mexico, knows that.”
The next morning Ross drove into Aztec early and ate a leisurely breakfast of bacon and eggs at the Wagon Wheel Café. After his third cup of coffee, he walked down the sidewalk to Neal Rankin’s small law office. Inside, behind a wide desk, a hefty woman with graying black hair smiled at him.
“Hello, Mr. Ketchum,” she greeted cheerfully. “Nice day, isn’t it?”
“Hello yourself, Connie. And any day that Neal calls me to the office is a grand day,” he said drolly. “Is he in yet?”
Connie jerked a thumb toward the door behind her left shoulder. “Ten minutes ago. Better go in now before someone else gets in line.”
Ross crossed the room and entered the small connecting office. A tall man with dark-blond hair was in the process of pouring coffee into a dark ceramic mug. He looked around as Ross helped himself to a chair.
“I guess you’ve never heard of knocking,” he said.
“Not on your door, buddy,” Ross told him.
With an accepting shake of his head, Neal held up the coffee cup. “Want some?”
“No. I just left the Wagon Wheel. The little waitress there never let my cup cool,” Ross said with a cocky grin.
Neal took a seat behind his desk. “That’s because she knows you’re a rich man.”
Ross chuckled. “And here I thought she was taken with my looks.”
“You’re crazy, Ross. You’re thirty-five years old and you’re not a bit different than you were at twenty.”
“Why should I try to improve on a good thing?” Ross grinned, then got straight to the point of his visit. “Besides, you’re the one who’s crazy if you’re thinking I need a lawyer to defend me.”
The other man sipped from the mug before he settled comfortably back in the leather chair. “I not only think you need one, I’ve already hired one for you.”
Incredulous, Ross scooted to the edge of his seat. “No!”
“That’s right,” Neal said calmly. “She’ll be here in the morning. And I expect you to be around the ranch when she arrives.”
Ross looked even more stunned. “She?”
Neal nodded. “Isabella Corrales, Bella for short. She’s very good. She worked for a time as a prosecutor for Dona Ana County.”
Incensed, Ross jerked off his hat and slapped it against his knee. “You not only hire a woman, but you hire one who’s a prosecutor! What are you trying to do to me?”
Accustomed to Ross’s passionate outbursts, Neal smiled patiently. “Calm down, old friend. I’m trying to take care of you.”
“Hmmph,” Ross grunted. “Sounds like it. What do you do to your enemies, stake them out in a bed of fire ants?”
“This is serious business, Ross. You could be brought up on several counts, the most serious being intent to kill.”
Ross mouthed a few curse words. “Yeah, my own brother-in-law, for Pete’s sake. Come on, Neal, anybody with two eyes can see this is a frame job.”
“Maybe. But with a murder already having taken place on the T Bar K, it makes you look mighty suspicious.”
“Damn it, I had nothing to do with that murder!”
“I know that. But the law doesn’t. Right now they’re searching for clues, and everything they’re turning up points to you.”
“You’re dramatizing this whole thing, buddy,” Ross said, then dropping his head in his hand, he massaged the deep furrows in his forehead. “And you know how I feel about professional women,” he added in a low, gritty voice. “What the hell did you go and hire one for?”
“To keep your neck out of jail. Is that a good enough reason?”
Lifting his head, Ross glared at him. “Fire her and hire somebody else! I don’t have time for some stiff-necked female trying to make a name for herself in the courtroom.”
Picking up a pen, Neal began to doodle on an already scribbled-on ink blotter. “You don’t know anything about this woman. How can you judge her?”
It was easy, Ross thought, when he’d had one just like her break his heart as though it was nothing more than an old chipped plate.
“Because I know her kind,” Ross said gruffly.
For long moments, Neal studied his friend. “Get this straight, buddy, Bella is nothing like Linda.”
Linda. Just the woman’s name was enough to fill Ross with dark bitterness. Five years had passed since she’d walked out of his life, but time hadn’t lessened the pain of rejection or the hard lesson she’d taught him.
“I sure as hell didn’t come here this morning to discuss Linda,” he said flatly.
“And I didn’t call you in here to discuss one of
