Page 6 of Lie for a Million

“And no matter how good you might be,” Roper continued, “in cutting, it’s the horse that counts—a horse with the training, smarts, and cow sense to separate a cow out of the herd and keep it from running back, time after time. Believe me, those horses don’t come cheap. You can’t just use Jezebel.”

“Don’t patronize me, Roper. I know that. I’ve watched events on TV. And I know what good cutting horses cost.”

“Can you afford one?”

“I think so. I’ve put half my winnings in the account for the ranch. But I’ve saved the rest.”

“What about that modeling spread forVoguemagazine? How much were you offered?”

“A lot,” Cheyenne said. “I turned them down, but they said to let them know if I changed my mind.”

“You’d be smart to say yes. If you’re serious about cutting, the money would buy you a better horse.”

She gave him a tentative smile. “You know how I hate that sort of silliness,” she said. “But all right, I’ll grit my teeth and do it. When I have the money, I’ll need your help choosing a horse. And I hope you can help me with training, too.”

“Let’s see how it goes,” Roper said. “For now, I’ll try to get you a behind-the-scenes pass to the cutting event at the Run for a Million. You can see the horses and get a picture of how they’re trained and handled, maybe even meet some of the riders.”

“You could do that? That would be amazing!”

“I said I’d try. Meanwhile, you work on getting the money for your horse.”

Roper knew better than to make promises he couldn’t keep. If he were to leave his job with Lila, he might not be available to help his sister. Cheyenne was a superb horsewoman, but she couldn’t compete in cutting without rigorous training on her chosen horse. That included an enclosure where she could work with cows.

Two years ago, when she was eighteen and already doing rodeo, Frank Culhane had offered to train her in reining. He had taken her to the Cactus Classic in Scottsdale in the hope of rousing her interest. Cheyenne had turned him down flat.

Whether it was because she didn’t care for the sport or that she’d felt uncomfortable with Frank, Roper didn’t know. He had been in Colorado at the time, finalizing the sale of the family ranch there.

Now Frank was gone, and things were different at the Culhane Ranch. If Roper were to stay, Cheyenne might be able to do her training and keep her horse there.

Ifhe were to stay.

He couldn’t afford to wait any longer. He needed to decide on the horse, the arrangement with Chet Barr, and his relationship with Lila.

The choices he made tomorrow could be life-changing.

* * *

The sun was climbing toward midday when Lila drove her new white Porsche Carrera to Willow Bend. A hundred years ago, the town had been a prosperous center for the cattle business. Now, with most of the animals being trucked off to feed lots and the money going to big city banks, Willow Bend had shrunk to a quarter of its former size. These days, it served the surrounding ranches with a grocery store and ranch supply store, a gas station with a garage, a police and fire station, a small courthouse with an attached jail, a saloon, a school, and a decent restaurant.

The Blue Rose, a seedy, rundown motel on the outskirts of town, served visitors and the occasional tryst. Driving past it, Lila couldn’t help wondering how many times Frank had bedded his young mistress there—and how many others there’d been.

Frank’s son, Darrin, lived in Willow Bend with his pregnant wife, Simone. He practiced law out of his home office and managed the ranch’s cattle operation, which his mother had been awarded in her divorce from Frank.

Since Frank’s death, Darrin had declared war on Lila’s right to inherit the Culhane mansion and stables. As she drove past his house—a large bungalow style, built by the founder of the town, Lila could imagine the red-headed weasel at his desk, working out the details of the lawsuit, to be set for court in the next few months.

Frank’s will, made early in the marriage, had left the property to herandtheir future children. But since Lila had given him no children, and she wasn’t a Culhane by blood, the lawyers were arguing that the will no longer applied and everything should go to his first family.

A nasty legal fight lay ahead. But Lila couldn’t think about that now, not when she was about to meet the woman who claimed to be carrying Frank’s child.

She parked at the curb in front of the Trail’s End restaurant, behind a battered blue Hyundai Elantra with a mismatched door. If that was Crystal’s car, she could be in desperate straits—or the car could be for show. Lila knew better than to assume anything about the woman she was about to meet.

Dressed simply, in khakis and a denim shirt, she slung her purse over her shoulder and climbed out of the Porsche. Willing herself to ignore her racing pulse, she walked into the restaurant. The busy lunch hour wouldn’t start for another fifteen minutes. She hoped that would give her enough quiet time to find out what she needed to know. If Miss Crystal Carter turned out to be a fraud, this messy business would be finished.

The dining area was arranged with booths around the outside and tables in the center. Lila scanned the booths. Spotting Crystal took no more than a few seconds. She was seated in the corner, sipping a soda. She looked up as Lila entered the room, then lowered her gaze. She was young and pretty, just the way Frank had always liked his girls.

Close up, she was even prettier, with doe eyes and a cloud of dark curls. Her makeup was heavy, the red lips, blue eyeshadow, and false eyelashes too dramatic for Lila’s taste, but she did have good skin. The woman’s left hand, splayed on the table, exhibited the same fake nails and rings that Lila had seen in the photo as it rested on Frank’s shoulder.

“May I sit down, Miss Carter?” Lila asked in a formal voice. The last thing she wanted was to appear sympathetic.

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