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“Think about it, Kyle. Think about the last time we were together and what you did and said.”

“Hell, woman, you socked me in the eye. I was in pain.”

“Like I said, we need to talk. You can come over or not. It’s up to you.”

Fifteen minutes later the old ranch truck pulled up to the house and Kyle climbed out. Erin met him on the porch with a cold Bud Light in each hand. She handed him one as he came up the steps. “Sit down,” she said.

He lowered himself into the chair that had always been Will’s. Erin stifled the urge to insist that he move. What difference would it make now?

“So, are you ready to apologize for blacking my eye?”

“Are you ready to apologize for being a jerk, or should we just call it a draw?” Erin sat down in the chair that she’d placed three feet away. When she thought of what he’d done, she could barely stand the sight of him. But she had to get through this. She had to make it clear that she knew he’d lied about Luke.

He put his boots on the rail, popped the tab on his beer can, and tipped it to his lips. “Sorry about your dad,” he said. “I mean it. I really do. What an awful tragedy for you.” He studied her over the rim of the can. “I guess that makes you the boss, doesn’t it?”

“For whatever that’s worth.” Erin set her can on the porch without opening it. Why not tell him the truth? Maybe it would cool his ardor if he knew she was going to be landless and poor.

“I still say you’re going to need a man in your life,” Kyle said.

“Only if he’s rich.” She took a perverse pleasure in giving him the news. “My father died owing the bank a balloon payment of two hundred thousand dollars. If I can’t come up with it by the first of October, I won’t have a ranch to boss. The bank will foreclose, and probably sell the place to the syndicate. Maybe your father knows something about that.”

“Lord, no.” Was he surprised or just playacting? “My father just works for the syndicate. He’s not one of the big shots. Otherwise, I’d ask him to help you out.”

“So,” Erin asked, “do you still think I’ll need a man to help me manage my fortune?”

“That’s not fair, Erin. You know I’d take you with the clothes on your back—or without them.”

She ignored his attempt at a joke. “Right now I’m more interested in finding out who killed my father.”

“I thought that was settled. The sheriff’s arrested your farrier, Luke Maddox. The man’s got guilt written all over him.”

“How can you say that? The evidence against him is all circumstantial.”

“Then you haven’t heard. An eyewitness saw him putting that tire in the road to set up the ambush.”

“How convenient that someone just happened to be there. Can you tell me who it was?”

“I think you know,” he said. “It was me. I was alone in my upstairs bedroom, looking out the window, when I saw that rig of his stop on the road.”

“That road’s at least a half mile from your house. How could you see anything clearly?”

“I couldn’t at first. But I had a feeling something fishy was going on, so I got my binoculars out of the closet and opened the window for a better look. It was Maddox, all right, and he was rolling that big tire out of the back of his trailer. He left it in the road and drove off. I’m guessing he hid the rig out of sight on some farm road and snuck back around to wait for your dad.”

Erin knew that he was lying. There was no way Luke could have committed the murder. But Kyle’s story gave her chills, not because it might be true, but because it was plausible—just plausible enough for the sheriff to accept.

If she’d been frightened for Luke before, she was terrified now.

“Are you prepared to tell that story in court, under oath?” she demanded.

“Sure. I don’t see why not, since it’s true—unless you can talk me into changing my mind. I could always say I made a mistake, leaving Maddox to take his chances.”

Erin’s pulse slammed. Would Kyle stoop to blackmailing her?

“How do I know you aren’t lying?” she asked.

“You don’t. You weren’t there. As I recall, you were off somewhere with Rose. You’ll have to take my word for it, just like the sheriff did.” He was leering at her, his face wearing the lazy, lopsided grin that she’d once thought was cute. Now all she wanted to do was punch that grin off his insolent face, maybe take out a couple of front teeth in the process.

Freezing her emotions, she stood. “You need to go, Kyle. If you’re lying to me, and if you lied to the sheriff, we can never be friends again.”


Tags: Janet Dailey The Tylers of Texas Romance