Page 5 of One in a Million

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She pushed to her feet and fled, leaving Roper standing in the stall. He’d sensed the tremor in her voice and the tears that hovered on the edge of the breaking point. But Miss Culhane would be all right, he told himself. She impressed him as a strong woman. She just needed time to deal with her loss.

She’d left him with a difficult job—but under the circumstances, he had little choice except to do as she demanded and give Frank’s wife—now his widow—the news.

He took time to check with the stable hands and make sure the police were on their way. The training sessions were to be put on hold until the crime scene—if that’s what it was—had been cleared. One in a Million had been moved to an unoccupied stall with hay and water. The stallion was calmer now, but still plunging and rolling his eyes. Maybe later, he could safely be let loose in the paddock to run off his anxiety.

Until today, Frank would have made that decision. But Frank was gone. That reality was still sinking in. Roper didn’t know who’d be running the ranch in the days ahead—only that it wouldn’t be up to him.

As he walked the cobbled path to the house, he tried to piece together what he would say to Lila Culhane. He’d been briefly introduced to her when he’d taken the job; and he’d seen her from a distance, driving her car or going in and out of the house. But he couldn’t say he knew the woman or anything about her, except for what he’d just been told—that she was a floozy who’d allegedly broken up Frank’s first marriage.

He could see her now, as he neared the house. She was on the patio, seated at a table a few yards back from the pool, wearing sunglasses and a silky blouse. A coffee mug sat next to an open book on the table.

The patio was surrounded by a low, wrought-iron fence with a gate. As Roper released the latch, she raised her head.

“If you’re looking for my husband, Mr. McKenna, he isn’t here. He said something last night about a mare in labor. That was the last I saw of him.” Her voice was as sensual as a warm breath in his ear. But Roper detected an undercurrent of tension—almost as if she already suspected the reason he’d come. As he approached, she slipped off her sunglasses. Her coppery eyes gazed directly at him.

“You look uneasy, Mr. McKenna,” she said. “Has something happened? Sit down. I’ll order more coffee if you’d like.” She was calm—almost too calm.

“No coffee, thanks.” He took the nearest chair. Leaning back, he studied her across the table. She was a beautiful, confident woman. He didn’t look forward to delivering his blow and watching her fall apart.

“It wasn’t your husband I came to find,” he said. “It was you. I’m afraid I have bad news, Mrs. Culhane. You’ll need to prepare yourself.”

“Has something happened to Frank?” She paused, as if sensing the answer in his silence. “I had a feeling. Don’t bother to cushion it. Just tell me.”

Beneath her calm manner, Roper caught a glint of steel. “Yes, it’s Frank,” he said. “Your stepdaughter found him this morning, lying in the stallion’s stall. There was no pulse. It appeared he’d been deceased for several hours.”

“I see.” She reached out and closed the open book on the table, as if she were closing a chapter on her life. “How do you think it happened?” she asked.

“I don’t know. There was no visible injury, no sign of a struggle. The police are on their way. They’ll want to talk to you, of course.”

“Of course, they will. Isn’t it always the spouse they question first?” She stood, replacing her sunglasses. “I suppose I should take a look at Frank before they get here.”

“I was going to suggest that. But you shouldn’t go alone. I’ll walk you to the stable.”

He offered his arm as they passed through the gate and set off down the path. She ignored the gesture, striding beside him. She was tall—about five-nine, he estimated—with a dancer’s long legs.

“How’s the stallion?” she asked.

“Spooked. But the grooms moved him out of the stall. He’ll need some time to calm down.”

“And how’s Jasmine? You said she was the one who found Frank.”

“I’d say she’s in shock. But she seemed to be handling it. The last I saw of her, she was headed out to call her mother and brother.”

“The gathering of the clan.” Her husky voice dripped cynicism. “Ah, here we are. If you’ll show me to the scene.”

The stable door stood open. The stallion’s usual stall, its gate closed, was first on the left. From the far end of the stable came the faint sounds of cleaning. But the usual flow of conversation was missing.

Frank’s wife—now his widow—took a step toward the gate, then hesitated.

“There’s no reason to see him if you don’t want to,” Roper said.

“I must see him,” she said. “There’ll be major decisions to make in the days ahead. Before I can do what has to be done, I need to face reality. My husband is dead. That changes a lot of things.”

Head high, she crossed the distance to the stall and slid open the gate, revealing Frank’s body in the straw. Roper stood back and watched, expecting her to break down. But she made no sound and no move to touch her husband, not even when a buzzing horsefly landed on Frank’s neck and began biting into his flesh.

Turning away, she sighed and closed the gate behind her. “I’m going back to the house now,” she said. “No need for you to go with me—I’ll be fine. Send the police up when they’re ready.”

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