Page 62 of Cowboy Don't Go

“Well, he’s not here.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“He’s working out at the round barn. Is there anything I can help you with?” She was still holding the note from her father. Her hand was shaking.

“I-I think . . . listen, Ms. Hardesty. I have reason to believe that he and all of you out at the Hard Eight could be in imminent danger.”

Instantly, her thoughts turned to the man who’d broken into their home. “What kind of danger, exactly?”

“I really should talk to Cooper directly. It’s in regard to a case I’m working on for him.”

A case? The hair on the back of her neck went up. Cooper had hired Trey to investigate . . . what? Was it connected somehow to the break-ins at their ranch? Or the creep who’d passed her on the road? Why wouldn’t he tell her that though?

A drumming began behind her eyes. “Oh, the case. Yes,” she lied. “He told me about the case. You found something then?” She held her breath.

Trey hesitated again, but even as he did, she heard the sound of his car door shutting and his engine starting. “Okay, since he’s told you . . . It turns out Cooper was right all along about your mom being at the center of this. It was Sarah that Ray was trying to protect by going to prison without implicating your father—”

My father? What? No. Just no!

“And that might be the key to clearing Ray’s name. Cooper called me last night. The deputy had called him about the fingerprints out at your barn. Seems they belonged to none other than Clulagher. So we know now that the guy is not dead and has definitely been here in town.”

Her throat felt like it might close up. “Wait. You mean that’s who’s been stalking my family?”

“Apparently. Look, there’s no easy way to say this, but we also found that it was your late father who was blackmailing Clulagher. My guy retrieved some deleted emails that were . . .”

Her ears stopped working. Blackmail? Clulagher? Her father? Ray protecting her mom? What the hell was he talking about?

She stared down at her father’s note in her hand. . . . the price of your mother’s infidelity . . .

The words all collided as she tried to take them in. All she could really seem to grasp was that her mother was somehow at the center of all this. And Cooper had, for some reason, come here to investigate her parents’ involvement in some crime his own father had committed and that now, all of them were in danger.

Her heart sank. And all of the gut feelings, all of the intuition she’d had that very first day about Cooper ruining them had been right, and she’d ignored all of it and let him in. He’d lied to her. About everything. And had he known all along who this guy was who was stalking her? Stalking her family? But he did nothing? Told them nothing? Anger bubbled up inside her. All she could think about was making love to Cooper, him kissing her. Making her believe he wasn’t here for some ulterior motive. All so he could ruin them by clearing his father’s name.

“Shay? You still there?” Trey asked. “Listen to me. I can’t predict what this guy will do. But a dead man can do pretty much anything he wants and get away with it.”

A dead man? Not if she strangled Cooper first!

“Okay. Thank you,” she said. “I’ll tell him.”

“No. Wait. Shay. Listen to me. Don’t go by your—”

“Goodbye.” She punched the end button on Cooper’s cell phone. She let out a frustrated growl and tossed it roughly down on the desk. Then she picked it back up and angrily punched that end button over and over.

Then, she raced downstairs and out the front door. She jumped in her truck and spit gravel behind her as she headed out to find him.

*

Sarah and Cooper were up at the round barn, discussing design possibilities, even as Cooper was tearing out old sheetrock from the interior tack room.

“This right here isn’t a supporting wall.” Cooper banged his hammer along the wall, punching holes in it. “So, we can tear this down to make room for a kitchen, if that’s what you have in mind.”

“We’ll definitely need kitchen facilities up here along with redoing all the electrical wiring and the box. I don’t think a couple of string bulbs are going to cut it for wedding receptions.” Sarah chuckled as she inspected the joists under the loft. Old bits of hay still drifted down from the spaces between. “They look pretty sturdy. They must be a hundred years old though. Maybe there’s something we can do with the loft. Build a staircase up to it. Use it as a changing room? Then the stairway could even be an entrance for the bride?”

“That’s a lot of work, but it’s a great idea.”

He hammered again and pulled some drywall out with the claw part of the hammer. And with the drywall, unexpectedly came a fist full of currency.

Bills.

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