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How much more humiliation would she let him inflict? “None,” she promised herself, reaching for her jeans and tugging them over her hips. When Denver McLean left Montana again, she vowed silently to herself, she would wish him good luck, then pray that she never set eyes on him again.
Chapter Six
The phone rang. Without looking up from the papers strewn across the desk, Denver reached for the receiver. “McLean Ranch,” he muttered.
“Denver?” Ross Anderson’s voice boomed over the wires. “How’s it going?”
“As well as can be expected, I suppose.” He hadn’t talked to Ross since he’d left the attorney’s office nearly two weeks before.
“I thought you were heading back to L.A.”
“I got side-tracked. Your advice.” He leaned back in his chair and waited. Ross wouldn’t be calling without a reason.
“I thought you’d like to know I may have a lead on your brother.”
Denver sucked in his breath. Finally! “You’re sure?”
“Nothing’s sure until we see him,” Ross replied. “But a private detective in New York contacted one of the magazines he works for, and I think we may have gotten lucky. Just three weeks ago, Colton was in Belfast.”
“I’ll be damned,” Denver said, wondering if his luck were changing.
“You and me both,” Ross said with a laugh. “The investigator is flying to Ireland tonight. We should know something in the next couple of days.”
Denver sighed. “I guess I’ll owe you one, Ross.”
“Let’s wait and see. But the editor seems to think Colton is still working undercover, posing as a member of the IRA.”
Denver’s stomach knotted. “He’s lucky to be alive.”
“If he still is.”
“Let me know.”
“Oh, I will. The minute I hear.”
Denver hung up and wondered how Colton would take the news that he’d inherited half of the ranch and Tessa Kramer wanted to buy it. A slow smile spread over Denver’s features. If nothing else could entice Colton back to Montana, the threat of selling out to Curtis Kramer’s daughter just might.
* * *
Nate Edwards was a big, burly man whose dark hair was shot with gray. He’d been a horseman all his life, and his eyes gleamed as he leaned on the fence and watched Tessa lead Brigadier around the paddock.
“A fine-looking animal,” he said, eyeing the stallion. Brigadier’s muscles quivered as Nate reached across the top rail and rubbed the stallion’s muscular shoulder.
“I think he’s the best in the state.”
Nate smiled, exposing one gold-capped tooth. “I don’t know if I’d go that far. What about Black Magic?”
Tessa considered the gleaming black stallion—John McLean’s pride. “It’s hard to compare,” she said grudgingly. “But I’d still put my money on Brigadier.”
Nate’s gaze swung to the two mares, both pregnant, standing head to tail, and switching flies in the next paddock. “You’re sure you want to sell all three?”
No, she wasn’t, but she had no choice. For the past few years, she’d pinned her dreams on these animals, and the thought of selling the two mares and Brigadier hurt. But it was worth it, she told herself, for the ranch. “If I get the right price,” she whispered, as her fingers caressed Brigadier’s sleek neck. It seemed sacrilege to sell this horse. Aside from his value in dollars and cents, Brigadier had become a big part of her life. She enjoyed his feisty spirit and ornery streak. Now, Brigadier minced nervously, rolling his eyes until they showe
d white, as Nate opened the gate and slipped through.
“Careful,” Tessa warned.
Running his hands over Brigadier’s back, Nate moved slowly around the horse and had to jump out of the way when one back hoof lashed out, nearly connecting with Nate’s shin. “Friendly, isn’t he?”
