Will had been checked over, treated for minor burns, and released; but he’d refused to leave the hospital until Sky was stabilized and in the ICU, with Lauren watching over him. “I’ll be back first thing tomorrow,” he’d told the doctors. “Call me if he needs anything.”
As they walked out to the parking lot, Tori keeping pace with his long strides, the depth of his concern prompted her to voice something she’d suspected for years.
“Sky’s your brother, isn’t he?”
“Right now, that doesn’t make much difference,” Will said. “I’d be just as worried either way.”
“But he is, isn’t he? I’ve always wondered. He’s as much like Bull as you are, only in different ways.”
Without answering, Will moved ahead of her and opened the passenger-side door of her station wagon. “Give me your keys and get in,” he said. “I’m driving.”
“Is that wise?”
“Keys.” He held out his hand. With a sigh Tori opened her purse and handed him her keys. Regarding Will, she’d long since learned to choose her battles. This was no time for a useless argument.
He drove like he was angry—not at her, but at the horrific circumstances of the day. A treasured family holiday had been ruined, but that was the least of it. He’d also lost the barn on the brink of winter, with a storm due in, any day. Even if the insurance would pay much of the rebuilding cost, he couldn’t buy time. He couldn’t buy back the life of the man who’d died in the fire or the weeks Sky would need to heal from the trauma that almost killed him.
And he couldn’t delay the trial, now less than a week away, with a possible outcome that could separate him from everything, and everyone, he’d ever loved.
Tori’s gaze traced his defiant profile, lingering on the twitching muscle in his cheek. She knew Will, and she knew how much he was hurting. Part of her yearned to wrap him in her arms and tell him everything would be all right. But that would be a lie—the last thing Will would want to hear.
It was all up to her, Tori realized. If she could win an acquittal for Will, he would find a way to fight through and save the ranch. If she lost, the entire burden of the ranch, the barn, and the money problems would fall on Beau. In his own way Beau was
as strong as Will. But he’d left once, years ago, after having it out with Bull. If things got bad enough, she wouldn’t put it past him to throw up his hands, take Natalie and their baby, and return to his government job in the East.
“I got a call from Natalie,” she said, feeling the need to break the uneasy silence. “Ralph Jackson’s wife had a baby boy. Abner and his wife showed up and took them both to the hospital.”
Will exhaled, easing his grip on the wheel. “It’s a good thing they stepped up. I’ll have Beau look into our insurance. Since her husband died in the fire, that should be worth something for the poor girl.”
“How do you think the fire started?” Tori asked.
“Damned if I know. Everybody was supposed to be at dinner then. Nobody would’ve been in the barn.”
“So when did Ralph go in? Did you see him outside fighting the fire?”
“No, but I was busy. He could’ve been anywhere. Maybe he was helping Sky get the horses out. When Sky’s up to talking, I’ll ask him.”
“Maybe the fire was set, and whoever did it murdered Ralph. What do you think of that theory?”
“It’s possible, I guess. There’ll be an investigation and a coroner’s report. Maybe after that, we’ll have a better idea of what happened.” Will lapsed into silence. Tori could imagine what he was thinking. By the time the investigation was finished, he could be far from home, looking at the world through prison bars.
Tori’s memory shifted back to the night—barely remembered until now—when she and Drew had stopped off at the Blue Coyote for a late-night beer. She remembered glancing around to meet those absinthe eyes, and how their hate-filled gaze had made her skin crawl.
“It had to be Stella,” she said. “Who else would despise you and your family enough to do this?”
“You could be right.” Will’s tone was carefully neutral. “But Stella wouldn’t come on the ranch and set the fire herself. If she wanted it done, she’d pay or blackmail somebody else to do it. And she’d make damned sure nothing could be traced to her.” He shot Tori a stern glance. “Leave it to the law for now. Trying to figure out who set the fire won’t undo the damage. Besides, you’ve got more urgent things to deal with.”
Yes, the trial. She couldn’t forget that. Not when the worry was keeping her awake nights. She had a good case. Given the true facts, no reasonable jury would convict Will. But something told her she’d be playing against a stacked deck. Clay Drummond always liked to win, but this time he seemed determined to the point of desperation. Something, Tori sensed, was very, very wrong.
* * *
Stella turned off the nightly news and poured herself a glass of the finest Kentucky bourbon money could buy. She’d ended the holiday with three wins in her column—Will Tyler’s barn burned to cinders, Sky Fletcher injured, and Ralph Jackson dead.
When she’d heard the sirens around one-thirty, she’d figured Ralph must’ve done his job, but she’d spent an uneasy afternoon wondering what the chances were that the fool would get caught and turn on her to save his own skin. She’d asked herself, again and again, whether she’d risked too much to strike at her enemy. Ralph was a weak link. However the day went down, he would have to go. It was just a matter of how and when.
Hours had passed as she waited for Ralph to call her and demand the rest of the cash she’d promised him. When no call came, she’d imagined the worst—that he’d been caught and arrested.
After packing a valise, to have ready in case of a needed getaway, she’d glued herself to the radio and TV for any word about the fire. Not until the six o’clock news had she learned that the fire was out, and that one man had died in the blaze, presumably trying to save the horses. The owners of the ranch were unavailable for comment, but the deceased ranch hand, Ralph Jackson, was being remembered as a hero.