if I can’t get my father to cooperate?”
“Then no bull-riding lessons.” He prayed she wouldn’t call his bluff.
“When do I get my first lesson?”
“Six o’clock tomorrow night at my mother’s.”
“You won’t cancel out on me?” she asked.
“You hold up your end of the bargain, and I’ll hold up mine.”
Lucy flashed her sassy dimples at Tony and got out of the truck. How the hell was he going to help Lucy and keep his hands to himself when each breathing, living part of him wanted to have his way with her?
Chapter Four
Sunday morning dawned bright and early—too early. Lucy had dropped off the last Pony Express passenger at 3:00 a.m. With only five hours of sleep under her belt, she dragged herself from bed and stumbled into the shower. The lukewarm water revived her, and thoughts of her first bull-riding lesson with Tony washed away the remaining vestiges of sleep.
She dressed quickly and pulled her damp hair into a ponytail before leaving her room and following the scent of freshly brewed coffee through the house. Today marked the two-year anniversary of her brother’s death. Bracing herself, she entered the kitchen, where her mother flipped pancakes at the stove and her father read the newspaper at the table.
“Good morning, Lucy.” Her mother smiled.
“Morning.” Lucy fetched the orange-juice pitcher from the fridge, poured herself a glass and sat at the table across from her father. “Good morning, Dad.”
An unintelligible grunt echoed from behind the paper.
“Thanks,” Lucy said when her mother placed a plate of bacon and a stack of pancakes on the table. Sunday was the one day of the week her mother cooked—the housekeeper had the day off.
“Is scrambled okay?” her mother asked.
“No.”
“Sure.” Lucy spoke at the same time as her father.
“You’ll eat whatever I put on the table, Cal.”
Yeah, Mom. Lucy hid a smile behind a fake cough. Her father was the stereotypical spoiled, wealthy man who loved being coddled, but Lucy’s mother drew the line at bending over backward to please her husband.
“Is Hector feeling better?” She whisked eggs in a bowl then poured them into a frying pan.
Taking her cue from her parents, Lucy pretended this was just another ordinary day. “I hope so.” She yawned. “I’ll call him after breakfast.” Her father ignored the conversation, continuing to read the paper while his food grew cold.
“What are your plans today?” her mother asked, setting the scrambled eggs on the table and taking a seat.
“I need to drop off the van at Hector’s and pick up my truck.” Lucy shoveled a forkful of eggs into her mouth and contemplated how to broach the subject of granting Tony access to the ranch. She tapped a finger against the newspaper. Her father folded one corner down and stared.
“Heard any news on the human-trafficking ring?” Lucy asked.
“I spoke with Jim Fencel.” Mr. Fencel was a member of the Arizona State Legislature. “He said the border patrol gets leads all the time that are dead ends.”
“What if this one isn’t a dead end and Mexican gang members are transporting kidnapped girls across the ranch, Cal?” Lucy’s mother joined the conversation.
“Border patrol helicopters fly over the ranch once a week and use heat-sensing cameras to track any movement on the ground. If there was activity on our property they would have notified me by now.”
The Durango Ranch encompassed 126 square miles and the area near the mine was dotted with thick scrub, offering ample cover for trespassers. A helicopter could fly overhead and not spot a thing. “It’s your civic duty to allow the border patrol access to the ranch,” Lucy’s mother said.
“My civic—”
“Cal,” she interrupted. “They’re helpless little girls.” She buttered a slice of toast. “And we can’t have our name associated with that kind of illegal activity.” Of course her mother would be concerned with protecting the Durango name.
“Dad, if cartel members believe our ranch is a safe haven and inaccessible by the border patrol, then it’s only a matter of time before they grow bolder and rob the house or steal our vehicles.”
“You’re being melodramatic, daughter.”
“When was the last time you drove to the mine?” Lucy asked.
“I don’t remember.”
“Eat.” Her mother pointed her fork at the remaining food on Lucy’s plate.
Ignoring the command, Lucy pleaded her case. “Mom and I won’t feel safe when you travel unless we know no one is hiding on the property.”
“I haven’t denied the border patrol access to the ranch. They’re taking their sweet time investigating.”
“Maybe they’re busy investigating another case. Tony could stop out there and have a look around.”
“I don’t want Bravo anywhere near the ranch.” Her father’s stubborn scowl provoked Lucy to speak without thinking.
“Do you hate Tony so much that you’d risk the ranch being vandalized or one of us getting abducted just to keep him from doing his job?”
Her father’s fist slammed down on the table, rattling the dishes. “Bravo’s the reason Michael’s not sitting at this table with us!”
Her mother’s fork clanged against her plate.
So much for ignoring the significance of the day. “It’s not Tony’s fault, Dad.” It’s my fault. Lucy’s conscience demanded she confess, but fear of jeopardizing the progress she’d made in her relationship with her father kept the truth bottled up inside her.
“Tony should have never left the bar if he knew Michael was drinking heavily.”
“You always put Michael on a pedestal, Dad, believing he could do no wrong.” Unlike her. “He was twenty-five. An adult. Michael was responsible for his own actions.”
Each night since her brother’s death Lucy went to bed and repeated in her head—Michael was responsible for his own actions. And each night she waited for the words to ring true in her heart.
Two years later she was still waiting.
“Bravo was Michael’s best friend,” her father said.
“In the beginning you forbade Michael to be friends with Tony,” Lucy’s mother reminded him.
“And for good reason. Look how things ended.”
Lucy changed tactics. “If you despise Tony that much, why not give him access to the ranch to prove you’re right about the cartel and he’s wrong?” Her father’s pain and bitterness over Michael’s death was so deeply entrenched that she didn’t see any other way to get him to agree to her request unless he believed it would put Tony in his place.
“You’re right.” Her father’s grim expression lightened. “Bravo needs to be taught a lesson in humility.”
Lucy choked on her orange juice. If anyone needed that lesson, it was the man sitting across the table from her. “So you’ll allow Tony to search the property?”
“Not alone. You go with him to make sure he doesn’t steal anything while he’s out there.”
Although the mine had closed, not all of the gold had been extracted from the Venus Vein—discovered in a network of underground