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“We’re going to be soaked,” Russell said.
“Then we should probably get back. Oh, and by the way….” He pointed at the destroyed snowman. “There’s your closure.” He was still smiling as he mounted his horse.
THEIR RIDEwas good, and Rafe felt light. Russell seemed happier. The dogs raced ahead and into the barn, milling around while he and Russell took care of the horses. Rafe patted each dog. “Are you guys hungry? I’ll have to feed you outside. You all need baths.” They had rolled in something dead and smelled awful. Fortunately all three of them were water babies and didn’t put up a fight. “How about some lunch?”
Rafe opened the door, keeping the dogs outside.
As soon as he stepped into the kitchen, he knew something was wrong. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he came face-to-face with the issue as soon as he went into the living room. “Sit down,” Grant Mendeltom snapped from behind the gun.
“What the hell are you doing?” Rafe asked. “Get out of my house. You don’t want to do anything you’ll regret.” He stood still, hoping like hell that Russell would stay outside. He didn’t hear anyone else in the house.
“I already have. I should have gotten rid of your uncle years ago. Nothing good ever comes of your kind.” He slowly got up from where he’d sat waiting in Mack’s chair. “Do what I say, or else. I will gladly shoot you. I have no use for you or that damned Banion brat. I saw the two of you out riding.”
“Russell went home,” he said flatly. “So, what do you think you’re going to do? Kill me? Go ahead. Then you’ll just end up in prison. You aren’t going to get away with it. I have friends, and my death won’t go unnoticed.” If it weren’t for the gun in Grant’s hands—and the crazed look in his eyes—this situation would be completely ridiculous. “Hurting me isn’t going to help you.”
“Sure, it will. If you die, your parents will inherit everything. They’re your closest relatives. Then I’ll get this ranch from them and go on as though nothing has happened. All I have to do is get you out of the way and I can have whatever I want. Your parents will sell the ranch at a good price, and everything else that was your uncle’s will go to them.” He had clearly thought this out. “See? It’s simple. I just have to take care of you first.”
“Is that why you set fire to my barn?” Rafe asked.
Grant shook his head, his hatred burning brighter.
“Was it Duane?” Rafe asked, taking a shot on the dark, and from the way Grant narrowed his gaze, Rafe knew he’d hit the bullseye. “Why would he do that? Was he drunk?” Shit, a notion slammed into him. Duane had probably come to the barn, stupid drunk, trying to impress his father. He could almost hear Grant going on about the injustices, and Duane wanting to make his father happy. “Did you put Duane up to it?”
Grant stood and motioned with the gun. “Move.” Rage washed off him.
“Why?” Rafe refused to show any fear, even though the hatred and craziness in Grant’s eyes was more than enough to let him know that the man was serious, if deranged.
“Go to the basement door,” Grant said. “You’re going to take one hell of a fall.” He was almost gleeful. The changes in his mood were nearly as frightening as his actions.
Rafe walked slowly, trying to think of a way out of this and to give Russell a chance to help him. Frankly, he was surprised Russell hadn’t rushed in already. “That’s interesting. But there’s one thing you didn’t consider. When I inherited this place, I wrote and filed a will of my own. So my parents will get nothing.” Rafe paused with a grin. “And neither will you.” He had never been good at lying, so he hoped he could pull this one off. “I had Luther put it together a few weeks ago. He’s already filed it with the county.” Maybe he could instill some doubt.
Grant groaned but pushed him forward. “That’s a crock and you know it. People like you never think they’re going to die, so they don’t have wills.” A hint of cool air reached Rafe’s skin as he pulled open the door. Darkness loomed from below, and he did his best not to swallow as he stared at his fate.
“Are you sure?” Rafe pressed, just as the sound of barking filled the house, followed by footsteps on the kitchen floor. The barks turned to growls when the dogs saw Grant.
“Get him,” Rafe commanded. He had no idea how the dogs would react, but they grew more menacing, and Grant turned toward them as Russell burst in from the back. Rafe kicked the back of Grant’s knee, sending him downward, then shoved him with all his might. A shot rang out, glass shattered, and Grant hit the floor, screaming as the dogs went after him. Russell got the gun, and they pulled back the dogs.
Grant had curled into a fetal position to try to protect himself.
“Sorry it took so long,” Russell said. “I was trying to wipe the dogs off and didn’t realize you were in trouble until I let them in….
“Are you hurt?” Rafe asked Russell, and when he shook his head, Rafe checked each of the dogs. They were all fine too, thank goodness. Then he saw his oven door, broken into a million pieces.
“He didn’t get you either?” Russell asked.
“No. It looks like we’re all okay.”
After that, Rafe called the sheriff while Russell subdued Grant, holding him on the floor until the sheriff and his men arrived. The next hour was filled with questions and getting Grant out of the house. They secured his gun and took plenty of photographs. “None of you were hurt?” the sheriff asked.
“No. He shot the oven, but that was all. He wanted to kill me and make it look like I’d fallen down the stairs. That way my family could inherit what I own and he could buy the ranch from them. It sounds ridiculous, but that’s what he told me. I don’t really think the guy is all there. He admitted that he saw me with Russell, but then he didn’t even check where he was. He just sat in the living room waiting for me.” Rafe almost felt sorry for Grant, in a way.
“And that was it?”
“Well, Russell got here before anything could happen.” He squeezed Russell’s hand. “I’m just glad he didn’t come in with me. He and the dogs were the cavalry.”
“Was there anyone else?”
Rafe shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He lifted his gaze. “Please make sure he gets the help he needs.” He figured there was something really wrong with Grant—normal people didn’t act the way he had. “We’re both okay, and so are the dogs. That’s what really matters.” He was already trying to put this behind him.
