Roping Ray Mccullen
“Not just that, but to tell you what he did for me. I was alone and no one wanted to adopt me. But he gave me a home and a family.”
A bead of perspiration trickled down Ray’s neck. “What are you talking about?”
“He took me home to live with Barbara and Bobby. Their last name is Lowman.”
“You lived with my father’s mistress?”
She nodded. “For a while. With her and her son.” She hesitated. “Their son.”
Her words echoed in Ray’s mind as if he’d fallen into a wind tunnel. “Their son?”
Scarlet nodded. “I’m sorry. I...thought he was going to tell you about Bobby before he passed.”
A deep sense of betrayal cut through Ray, and he balled his hands into fists. He wanted to punch something.
He had known about the affair, but not that his father had another son.
* * *
SCARLET’S HEART SQUEEZED at the pain and shock on Ray’s face. She didn’t want to hurt this family, only to honor Joe’s last wishes.
Ray raked a hand through his thick, dark hair, then walked over to the bar and poured himself another shot. He kept his back to her as he stared into the fire, his shoulders rigid.
She glanced around the living room, absorbing its warmth, giving Ray time to process what she’d told him.
She tried to put herself in his place, to understand how he must feel. Her grief over Joe’s death was almost unbearable, and she wasn’t even Joe’s biological family.
She’d always looked up to Joe for the time he’d donated to the children’s home, and had secretly hoped to meet his sons one day, sons that he took pride in and had talked about when Bobby wasn’t around.
Joe and Bobby had a tumultuous relationship. Barbara and Joe had kept an on-again-off-again relationship over the years, but Joe had never married Barbara. He’d also been in and out of Bobby’s life, partly by choice, partly due to Barbara’s moody behavior.
But Joe had admitted to Scarlet once that he’d always loved his wife. No one could ever replace her.
In some ways, Bobby had a right to resent Ray, Maddox and Brett. Although Joe had financially supported him and Barbara, he’d never taken them to his ranch. Even after he lost his wife, he hadn’t shared Bobby with his other three sons.
“So I have a half brother?” Finally Ray turned toward her, a harshness in his eyes. “How old is he?”
“Twenty-six,” Scarlet said.
“Just a little younger than me,” Ray muttered. “Damn my daddy. Even in death, he found a way to screw us.”
“I’m sorry, Ray.” Scarlet fidgeted. “I know this is a shock. Maybe I shouldn’t have come, but—”
“But you did come,” Ray snapped. “Because you and Bobby want something? What? Part of Daddy’s money? The ranch?”
Scarlet flinched at his accusatory tone. Although she reminded herself that she’d just dropped a bombshell on Ray at a time when he was grieving. Lashing out was a natural reaction.
But Joe McCullen’s words in that heartfelt letter echoed in her head. She had loved Joe, and even though he’d made mistakes in his life, he’d cared about her.
Ray must have read her silence as a yes. “That’s it, isn’t it? You want part of Horseshoe Creek?”
“Ray, please,” Scarlet said, her voice quivering. “It’s not like that.”
Ray’s jaw tightened. “Then how is it? You simply came to tell me you’re sorry my father is gone? That he has another son, but that he doesn’t want part of Dad’s legacy?”
Actually Bobby would want part of it. And Joe had made arrangements for him, only there were stipulations attached to it. She didn’t know what those stipulations entailed, but whatever they were, Bobby would balk.
“I won’t lie to you, Ray. I am here because your father left me something.” She pulled the letter from her bag. “I had no idea he’d included me or Bobby in his will, but he did. A lawyer named Bush contacted me about the reading.”
“Just as I thought,” Ray said, animosity dripping from every word.
Self-preservation kicked in. “Listen, Ray, I didn’t ask for this. And I don’t think Bobby even knows yet. He and Joe didn’t get along, and Bobby’s had problems in the past, so I don’t know what to expect from him now.” She shoved the letter toward Ray. “Just read this letter your father wrote me.”
Ray’s dark gaze latched with hers, tension stretching between them, filled with distrust.
Her hand trembled as she waited for Ray to take the letter. When he snatched it, she finally released the breath she’d been holding, sank back in the chair and struggled to calm her nerves.
But the sight of Ray’s big, tough masculine profile haloed by the orange-and-yellow firelight aroused feminine desires that she’d never felt. Desires that she had no right to feel for the man in front of her.
Desires that couldn’t lead to anything.
But something about his strong jaw, that heavy five o’clock shadow and the intensity in his eyes reminded her of Joe. Joe, the man who’d been like a father to her.
Joe who’d sent her here to meet his sons.
She clutched her drink glass again and sipped it. The warm scotch slid down her throat, warming her. Yet the alcohol also reminded her of Joe.
Why had he put her in this awkward position?
He had to have known that Ray and his brothers wouldn’t welcome her or want to share any part of their family ranch. That they would be angry, and that the truth would turn their world upside down.
* * *
RAY LEANED AGAINST the hearth as he studied the paper Scarlet had handed him. It appeared to be a handwritten letter to her.
In his father’s handwriting.
My dearest Scarlet,
I was blessed to have sons. But I never had a daughter—until I met you.
That first line knocked the breath from his lungs. But he forced himself to read further.
By the time he finished, his gut was churning. These were his father’s words. His father’s sentiments.
Betrayal splintered through him.
Scarlet wasn’t lying. His father had loved her, had lead a life that he’d kept from his sons.
What were Maddox and Brett going to say? They didn’t even know about Barbara...
“I realize this is a shock to you,” Scarlet said softly. “It was to me, too.”
Still suspicious though, Ray narrowed his eyes, determined to see the truth beneath the pretty exterior. She was dressed in jeans and a denim shirt, boots, her long blond hair natural, and she wore little makeup or jewelry.
Not his idea of what a gold digger would look like.
But who was to say she hadn’t conned his father into writing this when he was ill or on medication?
He’d worked as a PI long enough to know that con artists came in all shapes and sizes, that sometimes the most charming, alluring face hid a devious side beneath.
Scarlet had grown up in an orphanage. Wasn’t it common for children who grew up without parents or in troubled homes to have mental problems? Maybe she wanted a family so badly that she’d latched on to his father and had taken advantage of him in a weak moment and convinced him to take her in.
He cleared his throat. He needed more information before he showed this to his brothers. “Where did you get this letter?”
“It came registered yesterday.” She gestured toward the envelope. “You can see the return address on the envelope.”
Ray hadn’t paid attention to it, but he flipped the envelope over and noted the name of a law office. Bush Law, Darren Bush, attorney-at-law.
Darren Bush was his father’s lawyer. So she hadn’t lied about that.
“You realize I’ll need to make sure this is legitimate.”
Scarlet bit down on her lower lip. “Yes, but...I’d like the letter back. It’s the last thing Joe ever wrote to me.”
He clenched his jaw. “He wrote you other letters?”
Scarlet shrugged. “Not letters, but he gave me cards for encouragement when I lived at The Family Farm. And then on birthdays.”
Resentment bubbled inside Ray. Why had his father treated her so special when he’d ignored him?
Because you knew what he did to your mother. And his anger and bitterness had driven a wedge between the two of them.
But dammit, his father could have tried.
“I’m sorry I upset you,” Scarlet said. “I almost didn’t come. But—”
“But you did,” Ray said again.
“Yes,” she said in a voice that cracked with emotion. “I don’t want the money per se, but I admired Joe and having a piece of the ranch that he cherished means I’ll always have a part of him. I know you and your brothers feel the same way.”
Except they were Joe McCullen’s blood. And she was...not family at all.
Although according to that letter, his father had loved her like a daughter.
Ray wished to hell he knew exactly how much money and land his father was talking about. And what about this half brother?
The letter mentioned that he had problems. Would he make trouble for the McCullens?
Chapter Three
Scarlet sensed it was time to leave. She hadn’t expected the visit to go well, but she’d hoped...
What? That the McCullen men would welcome her into their family as Joe had?
They didn’t even know her. Besides, according to Joe, the three brothers had their own differences to work out. Throwing a surprise half brother in the mix that they were unaware of and adding her—who was not even blood kin—had to rock their foundations.
They might even find some loophole to prevent her from receiving what Joe had intended her to have.
A pang hit her. If that happened, she’d live with it. Lord knows, she’d handled rejection before.
Truthfully, she wasn’t even sure Barbara had ever wanted her.
At first she’d welcomed her as the daughter she’d never had, but later, Scarlet suspected Barbara had only tolerated her because she thought it might help her win Joe back.
And Bobby... He’d hated her from the beginning.
She stood, Ray’s tormented expression tearing at her heart. “I really am sorry about just showing up. I wish Joe had told you about us.”
“He was a coward,” Ray said.
She bit her tongue to keep from agreeing. Even thinking that made her feel disloyal for all Joe had done for her. But she’d been hurt that her own mother had abandoned her when she was little, and she didn’t understand why Joe had allowed his deception to continue for so long.
He had put Ray in a bad spot and left him harboring a secret that must have hurt him terribly.
“He said he wanted to protect your brothers,” Scarlet said. “He hated disappointing you all.”
“Don’t defend him, Scarlet.”
“I’m not defending him,” Scarlet said. “But everyone makes mistakes, Ray.”
Ray’s frown deepened, making his eyes look haunted. “I’ll call the lawyer and talk to him about this, but for now, I think you’d better go.”
So much for making friends with Ray.
No wonder he and Joe had butted heads. They were both stubborn and hardheaded.
He gestured at the door, and she walked toward the entranceway. This old farmhouse had been in the family forever, Joe had said. It was homey and warm. The pictures of the landscape and horses on the walls showcased life on the ranch.
A family portrait of Joe, his wife and the three boys when they were little hung in the hallway like a shrine to the McCullens.
As a little girl, she’d been so alone when her mother had abandoned her. She’d lived on the streets for a few days with a homeless woman. She’d slept in alleys and deserted barns and eaten garbage.
Then she’d gotten sick and the old woman had pushed her into a nearby church with a note saying she had no home and needed help.
She’d developed rheumatic fever, and her heart had been weakened from her illness, making matters worse. No one had wanted to adopt a sick child, so she’d ended up at the children’s home.
Ray opened the door and a gust of cold air blasted her, sending a shiver through her. She clutched her shawl around her shoulders and held her head up high.
She’d been called names, ostracized from social situations and left out of sports because she’d been small, sickly and poor.
She wasn’t sickly anymore, and she didn’t intimidate easily. Joe had taught her to respect herself and fight for what she wanted out of life.
She wanted a family of her own someday.
She’d hoped to be part of this one. But that didn’t look as if it would happen.
So she hugged her shawl around her and ran to her Wrangler. Even if the McCullen men didn’t want her in their lives, their father would forever live in her heart.
* * *
RAY IGNORED THE guilt stabbing at him for his rude behavior with Scarlet.
When people died, especially people who owned land or money, predators crawled out of the woodwork wanting a piece of the pie.
He had to investigate Scarlet and her claims. But if she was telling the truth about there being a half brother, then he and Maddox and Brett would have to deal with the fallout.
And there would be fallout. Especially if their father had left him part of Horseshoe Creek.
He watched the woman disappear down the drive, his throat thickening with mixed emotions. If his father had volunteered at this children’s home and cared for her, it meant that he hadn’t been the cold bastard Ray believed him to be.
Yet...how could he have lived such different lives? Two families...
After his mother’s death, Ray had wondered if his father would marry that other woman. Barbara.
When he’d remained single, Ray had wondered why.
He still wondered.
He scanned the long driveway. Would Barbara show up next?
Wind swirled leaves inside the front door, and he realized Scarlet was long gone, so he shut the door. What the hell was he going to do now?
The furnace rumbled, the sound of wood popping in the fireplace, and he strode back to the living room and studied the family picture on the mantel.
The smiling faces mocked him. They looked like the perfect family.
But the picture was a lie.
Joe had another side to him. He’d slept with this woman Barbara and had a son with her.
And Scarlet...she was the wild card. The stranger he’d given a home to make amends for the mess he’d made.
Ray rolled his hands into fists. He had to find out the truth before the reading of the will.
Dammit, Dad, I’m still covering for you, aren’t I?
Yeah, he was. But he hated to destroy his brothers’ worlds if he could protect them. After all, Maddox and Brett had both just married.
Brett had been the womanizer, but he’d sowed his oats, and he wouldn’t be a cheater like his old man.
One reason Ray had never gotten serious with a woman. If his old man hadn’t been able to handle commitment, how could he?
He pulled his phone from his jacket, punched in Bush’s number and left a voice mail.
“This is Ray McCullen. A woman named Scarlet Lovett paid me a visit and claims my father left her some money and land. She also claims my father had another son who is a beneficiary. My brothers don’t know anything about this yet, and I want to be prepared, so I need to talk you to before the reading of the will. Call me as soon as you get this message.”
An image of abandoned children living in a group home taunted him and made his gut squeeze with guilt. If Scarlet’s story was true, he’d be a bastard to contest his father’s wishes.
He grabbed his Stetson and headed outside. He’d drop by that group home and find out for himself.
* * *
SCARLET HELD HERSELF together until she reached the edge of the McCullen ranch, but she was trembling so hard by then she had to pull over. She parked beside a sawtooth oak and studied the sign for Horseshoe Creek, then gazed at the beautiful rolling pastures and the rocky terrain in the distance.
Joe had regaled her with stories about raising cattle and working with his sons on the ranch, and about cattle drives and branding in the spring. He’d had big dreams of expanding the horse side of the operation, but when Ray and Brett left Pistol Whip, he and Maddox couldn’t handle expansion without them.
The sun was setting, painting the ridges of the mountains beyond a golden hue and the sky a radiant red and orange. Cattle grazed in the pasture to the east, and horses galloped near a stable to the west.
She understood why Joe had loved this land.
And why his sons would want to hold on to it.
Tears trickled down her cheeks. Ray and his brothers were still mourning their father.
So was she. But just like the rest of her life, she had to do it alone. She’d kept her distance at the funeral for fear someone would ask about her relationship with Joe. Plus, she’d respected him too much to intrude on his sons’ day.
Maybe she should just disappear from the McCullens’ lives now. Forget the will reading. Not ask for anything.
She had her memories of Joe. That was all she needed.
She started her engine and headed back toward her rental house.
She had survived being abandoned as a child, and now she’d earned her degree in social work and was helping other children like herself. She had a fulfilling job and she was giving back.
Even if she was alone at night, it didn’t matter. There were children who depended on her. She wouldn’t let them down just like Joe hadn’t let her down.
Her stomach twisted. Which meant she couldn’t run from the McCullens.
She needed the money Joe had left her to help The Family Farm.
* * *
RAY STUDIED THE sign for the children’s home—The Family Farm. The house was set back on several acres with room for livestock and stables, but he didn’t see any cattle or horses.
He maneuvered the drive and parked in front of the rustic wooden structure that reminded him more of a fishing lodge than a home for children.
Someone had probably designed it that way. Smart.
A big front porch overlooked the property, the two-story house more welcoming than he’d expected. A van was parked to the side with an emblem of a circle of children holding hands and the name painted on the side. Two other vehicles were parked in the graveled lot. Probably employees.
He climbed out and walked up the steps, then knocked. A pudgy middle-aged woman with a short brown bob answered the door. “Yes?”
“My name is Ray.”
“Faye Gideon,” the woman said with a warm smile. “What can I do for you?”
“May I come in and talk to you?”
A slightly wary expression flickered in her eyes, and she wiped her hands on a kitchen towel. “It’s dinnertime for the kids. What’s this about?”
He didn’t want to divulge that he was a private investigator yet. “I recently met a woman named Scarlet Lovett. She said she grew up here.”
Faye’s eyes widened, but a smile flitted across her face. “Yes, Scarlet. She did live here. Now she’s a social worker and helps place kids in forever homes when she can.” She opened the door and stepped onto the porch. “What did you say your name was?”
“Ray McCullen.”
She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, my goodness, I thought you looked familiar. You’re one of Joe’s boys, aren’t you?”
Ray swallowed. “Yes, ma’am. You knew my father?”
“Of course!” Faye grinned. “He volunteered here. That’s how he connected with Scarlet. But if you’ve met her, you probably know all of this.”
So Scarlet’s story was true.
“I’m so sorry about your daddy,” Faye said. “We all loved him. He was so wonderful with the children. We used to be in this old house nearer to town, but it was small and run-down, and Joe helped us build this place. Now we have twelve rooms, a big kitchen and land for the children to run and play.”
Ray couldn’t believe what she was saying. This wasn’t the man he remembered from his high school years at home.
“We’re all sad that he passed and will miss him,” Faye said. “Do you want to meet the children? They’ll be thrilled to visit with one of Joe’s sons. He talked about the three of you all the time.”
Emotions welled in Ray’s throat. Why hadn’t his father told him about this place? About what he was doing?
Because you left and never came back. You refused to talk to him.
And now it was too late.
* * *
SCARLET PARKED AT her rental house outside Pistol Whip, still shaken over the conversation with Ray McCullen. But there was nothing she could do tonight except give him time to process the bombshell she’d dropped on him.
Heart heavy, she let herself inside the tiny house. Although it was small, she had filled it with homey furniture, handmade quilts and crafts from Vintage Treasures, and she’d hung photographs of the farmland where the orphanage was housed on the walls.
She loved the beautiful landscapes and had been excited about Joe’s plans to add a stable and horses so the children could learn to ride. He’d also intended to add farm animals and assign the children chores to teach them responsibility. Working together would make them feel like a real family. God knows, most of them were plagued with self-doubt, insecurities and emotional issues.
She lit a fire in her fireplace, brewed a cup of tea, then grabbed her files and spread them on the kitchen table. She was most worried about one of the preteen boys, Trenton Akers. He was angry and lashing out at everyone, which made it more difficult to find him a forever home.
But there was a four-year-old, Corey Case, who a couple from Cheyenne were interested in. She opened the file on the couple to study their background check, but a noise outside startled her.
She went to the back door and peeked through the window in the laundry room. Wind hurled leaves across the backyard that jutted up to the woods. Night was setting in, the gray skies gloomy with shadows.
Suddenly she heard the doorknob jiggle, and she crept to the back door. A second later, the door burst open and Bobby appeared. He’d always been a foot taller than her, but he’d gained at least twenty pounds, making him twice her size.
Her lungs squeezed for air at the fury radiating from him. Beard stubble covered his face, and he reeked of alcohol and cigarettes. “Hello, sis. We have to talk.”
Scarlet inhaled sharply. “Bobby, you’re drunk. Come back when you’re sober.”
He gripped her arm, then dragged her toward the living room and shoved her against the wall. “No, Scarlet. We’re going to talk now.”
Fear crawled through her. She’d borne the brunt of Bobby’s temper before, and barely survived it.
No telling what he’d do now that Joe wasn’t around to protect her.
Chapter Four
Ray reluctantly stepped inside The Family Farm house.
Part of him wanted to deny everything Faye was telling him, go home and forget about Scarlet Lovett.
But he couldn’t forget about her. Not if his father had included her and this other son in his will.
Bobby Lowman—his half brother.
Good God...he still couldn’t believe it. His father had another son. One he and Maddox and Brett had known nothing about.
Maddox and Brett were going to have a fit.
As he scanned the interior of the farmhouse, he couldn’t deny his father’s influence. It reminded him of the house on Horseshoe Creek. Wood floors, sturdy oak furniture, a giant family table in the dining room, a kitchen adjoining it that held another big round wooden table and a butcher-block counter.
Landscape paintings and farm and ranch tools decorated the walls in the hall and the dining room where several kids of varying ages sat eating what smelled like homemade chicken potpie.
A brick fireplace in the dining room and another one in the living room added to the homey feel.
Laughter, chatter and teasing rumbled from the table.
“I told you it was dinnertime,” Faye said. “The kids take turns helping prepare the meal and cleaning up. Their rooms are down the hall. We have a maximum of four children to a room, and in some cases only two. Boys and girls are housed on opposite sides of the main living area.”