anyway. You and Miguel will be in charge after I leave.”
“You’re leaving?” Miguel looked stunned.
“I have a job in Texas, a kind of partnership,” Rafe explained. “I can’t just leave it.”
“But you’re coming back, aren’t you? This is your home now,” Miguel said.
“This hasn’t been my home for ten years. I don’t know why my father left me any part of the ranch.”
Miguel cast a quick glance at Maria. “Your father was a proud man. He would never admit to making a mistake, but he felt it.” Miguel pointed to a picture of Rafe on his father’s desk. “Why do you think that picture is there?”
Rafe shrugged.
“Because he knew he’d done a terrible thing when he let you leave. He never said so, but he thought you would come back.”
“He knew I wouldn’t because he knew what he asked was impossible.”
Miguel’s gaze sank to the carpet. “He wouldn’t have asked it again.”
The temptation to dwell on what might have been was a waste of time and could only make Rafe more bitter. “We’ve wandered from the question of who shot Broc and why.”
“Every man has enemies,” Miguel suggested.
“Broc doesn’t. He’s never been here before.”
“They could have followed him.”
“Nobody followed us.”
“Maybe Broc wasn’t the intended target.”
Rafe turned to Maria, who’d taken a seat by the window. “Why do you say that?”
“Broc was wearing some of your clothes. That bullet could have been meant for you instead.”
“Dolores is the only person who wants me dead, but she was still in bed when we left.” Rafe was convinced Broc was the intended victim. He just didn’t have any idea why. The man had no enemies. Everybody who knew him liked him.
“Are you sure the shooter couldn’t have been aiming for you and missed?” Maria asked Rafe.
“I was too far from Broc for that to happen. Besides, I haven’t been in California for ten years. Anything I might have done to make an enemy would have been forgotten by now.”
“Is there somebody in Texas?” Maria asked.
“Do you think I go around making enemies wherever I go?”
“I was talking about Broc.”
“Everybody likes Broc. You and Luis do, and you’ve hardly known him twenty-four hours.”
“Broc is a charming man. It would be impossible not to like him.”
Why did it irritate Rafe that Maria thought Broc was charming but not him? He knew he wasn’t charming. He didn’t try to be. Hell, he didn’t
want
to be.
“Could someone be trying to hurt you by hurting your friend?” Miguel asked.
“Who would do anything as twisted as that?”
Rafe had a perfect answer for Maria’s question: Laveau di Viere. But Laveau didn’t know he and Broc were in California. “I’ll go into town tomorrow and have the lawyer ask about any new arrivals. Miguel, you can do the same. Unless there’s somebody on the ranch who doesn’t want me to return, it’s got to be a stranger.”
“If the attacker wanted to get rid of you, wouldn’t he shoot you instead of Broc?” Maria asked.
“I don’t know. This doesn’t make any more sense than the gazebo collapsing.” The illogic annoyed Rafe. He had always been one who gathered facts and studied them until he found an order that made sense. The only plausible explanation for the shooting was that it was an accident, that someone had been firing a rifle at random or firing at a target and missed. The miscreant would probably never come forward for fear of what would happen to him. It was possible he didn’t know what he had done.
Yet Rafe still couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that he was missing something. He had been gone for ten years. Did he really know anybody anymore? Dolores could have hired an assassin. The lawyer could want to run him back to Texas so he’d have a free hand with the ranch. Maria could want him out of the way so she could retain her influence over Luis.
Now he was being foolish. He needed to put all these ridiculous
“You’re leaving?” Miguel looked stunned.
“I have a job in Texas, a kind of partnership,” Rafe explained. “I can’t just leave it.”
“But you’re coming back, aren’t you? This is your home now,” Miguel said.
“This hasn’t been my home for ten years. I don’t know why my father left me any part of the ranch.”
Miguel cast a quick glance at Maria. “Your father was a proud man. He would never admit to making a mistake, but he felt it.” Miguel pointed to a picture of Rafe on his father’s desk. “Why do you think that picture is there?”
Rafe shrugged.
“Because he knew he’d done a terrible thing when he let you leave. He never said so, but he thought you would come back.”
“He knew I wouldn’t because he knew what he asked was impossible.”
Miguel’s gaze sank to the carpet. “He wouldn’t have asked it again.”
The temptation to dwell on what might have been was a waste of time and could only make Rafe more bitter. “We’ve wandered from the question of who shot Broc and why.”
“Every man has enemies,” Miguel suggested.
“Broc doesn’t. He’s never been here before.”
“They could have followed him.”
“Nobody followed us.”
“Maybe Broc wasn’t the intended target.”
Rafe turned to Maria, who’d taken a seat by the window. “Why do you say that?”
“Broc was wearing some of your clothes. That bullet could have been meant for you instead.”
“Dolores is the only person who wants me dead, but she was still in bed when we left.” Rafe was convinced Broc was the intended victim. He just didn’t have any idea why. The man had no enemies. Everybody who knew him liked him.
“Are you sure the shooter couldn’t have been aiming for you and missed?” Maria asked Rafe.
“I was too far from Broc for that to happen. Besides, I haven’t been in California for ten years. Anything I might have done to make an enemy would have been forgotten by now.”
“Is there somebody in Texas?” Maria asked.
“Do you think I go around making enemies wherever I go?”
“I was talking about Broc.”
“Everybody likes Broc. You and Luis do, and you’ve hardly known him twenty-four hours.”
“Broc is a charming man. It would be impossible not to like him.”
Why did it irritate Rafe that Maria thought Broc was charming but not him? He knew he wasn’t charming. He didn’t try to be. Hell, he didn’t
want
to be.
“Could someone be trying to hurt you by hurting your friend?” Miguel asked.
“Who would do anything as twisted as that?”
Rafe had a perfect answer for Maria’s question: Laveau di Viere. But Laveau didn’t know he and Broc were in California. “I’ll go into town tomorrow and have the lawyer ask about any new arrivals. Miguel, you can do the same. Unless there’s somebody on the ranch who doesn’t want me to return, it’s got to be a stranger.”
“If the attacker wanted to get rid of you, wouldn’t he shoot you instead of Broc?” Maria asked.
“I don’t know. This doesn’t make any more sense than the gazebo collapsing.” The illogic annoyed Rafe. He had always been one who gathered facts and studied them until he found an order that made sense. The only plausible explanation for the shooting was that it was an accident, that someone had been firing a rifle at random or firing at a target and missed. The miscreant would probably never come forward for fear of what would happen to him. It was possible he didn’t know what he had done.
Yet Rafe still couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that he was missing something. He had been gone for ten years. Did he really know anybody anymore? Dolores could have hired an assassin. The lawyer could want to run him back to Texas so he’d have a free hand with the ranch. Maria could want him out of the way so she could retain her influence over Luis.
Now he was being foolish. He needed to put all these ridiculous
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