THE TIES THAT BIND

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  Contents:

  Prologue

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

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  Prologue

  ^ »

  Welcome to Clear Water, Montana—

  Population 1,474

  Scanning the sign at the edge of town, Zach Mahoney grimaced. "What the devil are you doing, Mahoney? You should be halfway to Sedona by now, not wasting time on a fool's errand," he muttered to himself.

  At the time he'd agreed to this crazy plan he'd been reeling from shock. If he'd been thinking straight he would have told J.T. and Matt to count him out. Hell, he had a good mind to turn his rig around and head for Sedona, and the devil take it.

  Zach ground his teeth, knowing he wouldn't. He didn't break his word.

  Besides, Kate would give him a tongue-lashing that would blister his eardrums if he didn't see this thing through. His sister, like most women, got emotional when it came to family.

  The two-lane highway ran through the center of town, and past the Mountain Shadows Motel on the northern edge. Zach parked his motor home in front of the motel and climbed out.

  Inside, he learned from the desk clerk that J.T. and Matt were having lunch across the street at a place called Hodie's. They'd left a message for him to join them there.

  Back out on the sidewalk Zach paused to replace his hat and look around. Clear Water nestled in a north/south valley with rolling foothills to the east and the towering peaks of the Rocky Mountains to the west. Other than the spectacular setting, the place was typical of hundreds of other western towns he'd seen while traveling the rodeo circuit – small, sleepy and rugged, a dot of what passed for civilization in a land of incomparable wild beauty.

  Though it was April, snow still covered the mountains. They glittered a blinding white in the bright sunshine, and the breeze that swept down their rugged slopes held a bite. Tugging the rolled brim of his Stetson lower over his eyes, Zach huddled deeper into his coat and headed across the street toward Hodie's Bar and Grill.

  Like many western "watering holes," Hodie's was a combination restaurant, pool hall and bar. It took a few seconds for Zach's eyes to adjust to the dimness inside, but when they did he homed in on the two men in a corner booth and headed in that direction.

  J.T. was the first to spot him.

  "Hey, Zach, you made it. Good to see you, bro. Have a seat," he offered, sliding over to make room.

  The appellation jarred Zach, but his expression remained carefully impassive. He hung his hat and coat on the brass hook attached to the end of the booth and slid onto the bench seat.

  Across the table he met Matt's penetrating gaze. More reserved than J.T., he merely nodded and said simply, "Zach."

  "You're just in time to join us for lunch."

  "No thanks. I've already eaten. I'll just have a cup of coffee." Righting the upside-down crockery mug in front of him, Zach signaled to the waitress.

  "You sure you don't want something to eat? This place doesn't look like much, I know, but the food is great. I had dinner here last night after I got in."

  "No, I'm good."

  "How about—"

  "He said he didn't want anything," Matt growled. "Let him be."

  "Hey, I was just being friendly. Something you should try once in a while, bro."

  Matt gave him a laser look. Unfazed, J.T. grinned back.

  Zach took a sip of coffee. The brew scalded his tongue, but drinking it gave him an excuse to remain silent and observe.

  No matter how hard he tried, he still had difficulty accepting that he and these two men were brothers. It just didn't seem possible.

  Which, he supposed, was normal, given the circumstances. Hell, until six weeks ago, when J.T. and Matt had tracked him down and broken the news to him, he'd had no idea he even had brothers. Learning at age thirty-five that he was one of a set of triplets had been a shocker.

  At first he'd been certain they were trying to pull some sort of con, and he'd flatly refused to believe them. To be honest, he hadn't wanted to believe them. Kate was his family – all the family he needed.

  However, there was proof. Most conclusive of which was the odd irregular-cut wedge of flat silver that each wore on a chain around his neck – a token from a birth mother none of them could remember. Unconsciously, Zach raised his hand and rubbed his through his shirt.

  The three jagged, pie-shaped wedges fit together perfectly to form a silver medallion. When whole, etched on one side was an R with a curved line under it, on the other side, in block print were the words, Rocking R Ranch and a post office box in Clear Water, Montana. Beneath the address were the words, "Your Heritage."

  Whoever she was, for whatever reason, the woman who had given each of them life had left this fragile link to one another and to their past.

  Even so … it was still difficult to believe that they were related. They seemed to be as different in every way as any three men could be.

  Other than all being six feet two inches tall and having the same general build, they looked nothing alike. Well … maybe, if you looked hard enough, you could see a slight resemblance between J.T. and Matt. They both had vivid blue eyes and dark hair, but Matt's was black, whereas J.T.'s was a mahogany-brown. Zach's own hair was the color of pale wheat, and if he spent too much time in the sunshine without a hat it bleached almost white, and his eyes were green.

  The differences between the three of them went deeper than looks, though. Their personalities were nothing at all alike.

  A former detective with the Houston police, Matt was tough and taciturn. To Zach's eye, he had the look of a man who had seen too much of life's seamy side to have any illusions left.

  On the surface, J.T. appeared to be a lightweight. Movie-star handsome, charming to the ladies and amiable, he seemed to take little seriously. Before quitting his job to try his hand at novel writing, he'd been an investigative reporter for a Houston newspaper – an occupation that had often put him at odds with Matt. It did, however, require intelligence, talent and tenacity, and that made Zach wonder just how much of J.T.'s affability was a clever ploy he used to put people at ease to gain their trust.

  He'd read J.T.'s first manuscript, and it was gut-wrenching, insightful and hard-hitting, hardly the work of a shallow playboy.

  "By the way, Kate sends her love."

  Zach turned his head and fixed J.T. with an unwavering look. "How is she?"

  "Terrific. And happy. Did you think she wouldn't be?"

  Zach let the question hang between them for several seconds, his eyes narrowing, searching J.T.'s face for the truth.

  To his credit, J.T. met the stare without flinching.

  At last Zach shrugged, which was as close to an apology as he intended to get. "I just can't get used to you being married to my sister, is all."

  "Jeez, man, you make it sound like incest. Kate's your adoptive sister. You're not related by blood."

  "Yeah, well, we grew up together. She seems a damn sight more like kin than you do."

  Matt snorted. "I can sympathize with you there. My last eleven years as a cop, back when J.T. was a reporter, he was a constant thorn in my side. Imagine what a kick in the head it was for me when I found out that he was my brother. The two of us made the connection seven months ago and I still haven't gotten used to the idea."

  "Hey, it was no thrill for me, either," J.T. fired back, his perpetual good humor for once slipping. "But it's a fact, so we're all just going to have to deal with it."

  "True. Maybe it'll be easier once we know more. Soon as we eat, we'll get directions to the Rocking R Ranch."

  Zach frowned. "Are you two sure you want to do this?"

  Matt gave him a sharp look, his coffee mug poised ha
lfway to his mouth. "Why? Don't you?"

  "I just don't see the point."

  "The point is to get some answers. Maybe meet our mother. Find out why she gave us up."

  "Why bother? Look, I've always known I was adopted, and it's never bothered me. Why should it? No kid could've asked for better parents than the Mahoneys. I've sure as hell never felt deprived or been haunted by nightmares, or even felt any curiosity about my biological parents. Maybe you two have some unresolved issues, but I don't. The way I figured it, our mother gave us away, so why should we go searching for her? As far as I'm concerned, the past is past. I say let it go."

  Matt looked at J.T. "He has a point."

  J.T. snapped, "Look, we're entitled to some answers. At the very least, we should find out our family's medical history in case any of us ever has kids of our own."

  "I guess you're right," Matt conceded. "Anyway, Maude Ann and Kate would kill us all if we didn't see this through."

  "Okay, fine. As soon as you two finish eating we'll go out to the ranch and get this over with. I wanta be outta here by morning. I got two days to get to my next rodeo."

  The waitress, a plump, fiftyish woman, bustled up to the table. "Here you go, fellas. Anything else I can ge—"

  Her breezy chatter ended abruptly when she glanced at Zach. Her jaw dropped almost to her chest. "Oh, my stars! You're Colleen Rafferty's boy, aren't you?"

  Zach exchanged a quick look with Matt and J.T. "Maybe."

  "Maybe? You mean you don't know?"

  "No, ma'am. I was adopted when I was two. All three of us were."

  "All three of you?" Her gaze bounced from one man to the other. "You mean … you're triplets?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Oh, my stars."

  "Actually, we came here looking for our birth mother. We have information that she might be from around here," J.T. said. "Maybe you could help us."

  "Well, boys, there's not a doubt in my mind that your mother is Colleen Rafferty. She had a very distinctive face." She smiled at Zach. "You, young man, are the spitting image of her. And I oughta know. Colleen and I were best friends. By the way, my name is Jan Prescott."

  "Nice to meet you, Ms. Prescott. I'm Zach Mahoney, and these are my brothers, Matt Dolan and J.T. Conway."

  "Three different names. Oh, that's just so sad."

  "So her name was Rafferty," Matt said. "Can we assume that has something to do with the Rocking R Ranch? And that she's connected to the owners?"

  "I should say so. That ranch has been in Colleen's family for four generations. Her great-great-grandfather, Ransom Patrick Rafferty, was one of the first settlers around these parts. For the last fifty years or so the ranch has belonged to her daddy, Seamus Rafferty." Jan Prescott sniffed. "A meaner old coot you'll never meet, I'm sorry to tell you."

  "Does Colleen still live at the ranch?"

  "Oh, dear, I'm afraid not. Colleen lit out of here close to thirty-six years ago, as I recall. Just boarded a bus one day without a word to anyone, not even me. No one around these parts has seen hide nor hair of her since.

  "The rumor going around at the time was that she was pregnant. Back in those days that was a disgrace. I didn't believe it. Gave a few folks a good dressing-down for even suggesting it. But, seeing as how you boys are here, looks like it was true."

  "Could you give us directions to the Rocking R?" Matt asked.

  "Sure. Just follow the highway north about ten miles and you'll see the sign."

  She hesitated, gnawing at her bottom lip, looking from one to the other. "Look, fellas, I feel it's only fair to warn you, Seamus Rafferty is meaner than a snake. He's not gonna take kindly to you showing up on his doorstep. Fact is, you'll be lucky if he doesn't run you off at gunpoint."

  "We still have to give it a shot," J.T. said.

  "We're not here to cause trouble," Matt added. "All we want is some information."

  "Yeah, well, good luck getting it. Regardless of how it turns out, though, I want you to know that I'm just pleased as punch that I got to meet Colleen's boys. An' I sure hope you get the answers you want," she added, but her expression said she didn't think much of their chances.

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  After turning in at the ranch entrance they drove several more miles without seeing anything but rich, rolling grassland on either side of the SUV.

  The land rose and dipped in undulating waves, stretching out as far as the eye could see to the east, north and south and to the base of the mountains to the west. Patches of snow still dotted the winter-brown pastures, but in protected spots green shoots poked up to brave the chill. Here and there stands of pine and spruce broke up the rolling landscape. Placid cattle grazed on either side of the narrow dirt road.

  Now this was prime ranch land, Zach thought. Exactly the kind of spread he'd always dreamed of owning.

  His mouth twisted. Yeah, right. In your dreams, Mahoney. If he saved his money until he was ninety, he'd never have enough to purchase a place even a fraction the size of this one.

  The road went down a long incline into a wide, gently rolling valley. At its center sat the ranch house, a sturdy, sprawling, two story structure made of logs and stone. The logs were stained dark brown, the shutters and trim painted cream. A wide porch spanned the considerable width of the house, front and back. It had the look of permanence, as though it had been sitting there for a hundred years or more.

  A couple hundred yards or so behind the house, cowboys worked in and around a maze of corrals and the gargantuan barn. Beyond that a bunkhouse, several open-sided hay barns and other outbuildings, which Zach knew probably housed tractors and cattle trailers and other ranch equipment, were scattered around. It was as fine a setup as he'd ever seen … and he'd darn near sell his soul to own it.

  A Border collie lay sleeping in a patch of sunshine on the porch. When Matt drove up to the front of the house the animal sprang to her feet and streaked down the steps, barking furiously.

  Zach, Matt and J.T. climbed out of the SUV, and the dog continued to growl. Following Zach's lead, they let her sniff their hands. When she was satisfied, the men went up the walk and climbed the steps, the Collie trotting along beside them, tail wagging.

  Their knock was answered by an elderly Hispanic woman.

  "¿Sí, señors?" Her face went slack with shock and she clasped her face between her palms. "¡Aiee! ¡Madre de Dios! It is you! Señorita Colleen's muchachos!"

  Before any of them could respond the woman surged forward, hugging first one, then the other, weeping and babbling in an incoherent mix of English and Spanish.

  "Dammit to hell, Maria! What in tarnation are you caterwauling about!" a male voice inside the house bellowed.

  Boot heels hammered across the foyer an instant before a gray-haired man appeared in the doorway. Backing up a step, Maria wrung her hands, her worried gaze bouncing back and forth between the four males.

  The old man's weathered skin resembled aged leather. He was shorter than Zach and his brothers by about two inches and lean to the point of boniness, but he looked as tough as a pine knot.

  "Whoever you are and whatever you're selling, I'm not interested, so get the hell off my property."

  As he spoke the old man's gaze skimmed over them, then did a double take, flashing back to Zach. His faded blue eyes narrowed and sharpened as recognition dawned. He stared for the space of three heartbeats before switching to the other two men.

  Zach would not have thought it possible, but the old man's expression grew even harder, and his eyes narrowed with pure hatred when his gaze settled on J.T.

  "So … she whelped three of you, did she?"

  Maria made a distressed sound, which drew the old man's attention. "Get back to your duties, woman. This is no business of yours."

  "Are you Seamus Rafferty?"

  "That I am." His flinty stare returned to J.T.

  "My name is Zach Mahoney. These are my brother's, Matt Dolan and J.T. Conway. We're here because—"

  "I know who you a
re," the old man snapped. "No matter what you call yourselves, you're still Colleen's bastards." He jabbed a bony forefinger at the end of J.T.'s nose. "This one is a dead ringer for Mike Reardon, the sorry, no-good saddle tramp who seduced my daughter. And you." He turned his head and looked at Zach. "You're the image of her."

  "So I've been told."

  Seamus turned his attention on Matt. "Now, you – you don't favor either of them. You're just a mutt mixture of both." He looked down at Matt's cane, and his mouth curled with contempt. "Got a gimp leg, I see. Not much use to anyone, are you?"

  Matt's jaw tightened and his piercing blue eyes flamed. Zach made a subtle shift, placing himself between Matt and the old man. "We're looking for some information. We're hoping you can help us."

  Seamus Rafferty's hard stare swung to Zach and held for an interminable time. Finally he snapped, "Come in. I don't conduct business on the porch." He stomped back inside, leaving them no choice but to follow.

  As they walked through the entry hall a young woman dressed in snug-fitting jeans and a Western-style shirt and boots descended the stairs. She was small and wand slim. At first glance Zach took her for a teenager, but drawing nearer he realized she was in her mid-twenties. Her skin was ivory, her eyes blue, her hair black. The thick mane hung down her back almost to her waist, arrow straight and as shiny as polished ebony. Though she appeared to wear no makeup she had the kind of delicate beauty that took your breath away.

  Zach wondered who she was. Another of Seamus's grandchildren, perhaps? Or a late-in-life child? Or perhaps his wife?

  The last thought was so distasteful Zach dismissed it immediately.

  The woman came to a halt on the bottom stair as they walked by, but even so she was still not eye-level with Zach. He realized that she could be no more than five feet two or three – and that her eyes were not blue at all, but a startling violet.

  He thought surely Seamus would stop and introduce them, but the old man stomped past the stairs without so much as a glance in her direction.

  "Seamus?" she called after him. "What's going on?" The husky contralto coming from such a small, delicate woman surprised Zach, but he was given no opportunity to contemplate its sexy quality.