THE TIES THAT BIND Page 3

  Zach's hat went flying on the third buck. In rhythm with the violent movements, he raked his blunted spurs over the horse's shoulders and kept his right hand high in the air while his upper body flopped back and forth in the saddle like a rag doll. Every time Hellbent's front hooves hit the ground Zach felt the jarring impact shoot up his spine all the way to the top of his head.

  The crowd in the stands became a blur as the horse spun and pitched and did everything in his power to dislodge him. Never had eight seconds seemed so long. Zach's thigh muscles began to quiver from the strain of gripping the horse's flanks, but he gritted his teeth and hung on.

  After what seemed like forever, in his peripheral vision he saw a pickup rider move in, and an instant later the horn blared, signaling the end of the ride. Zach grabbed the pickup rider's arm and shoulder, lunged from the saddle and swung to the ground.

  "What a great ride! Let's give Zach a big hand, folks," the announcer urged.

  While the crowd clapped and cheered and the pickup riders caught Hellbent and led him away, Zach scooped up his hat, gave it three hard knocks against his pant leg to remove the dust, set it back on his head and ambled for the pens, doing his best to not limp. With each step pain shot through his left leg and hip – a nasty little memento from the enraged bull that had given him a toss four days ago. Damn. He was getting too old for this.

  Most of the cowboys on the rodeo circuit were in their twenties. Some were even in their teens. Zach's mouth took on a wry twist. Yeah, and there's a reason for that, Mahoney, he thought. By age thirty-six they're either too busted up to compete or they've wised up.

  Not until Zach reached the exit gate did he allow himself to look over his shoulder and check his score. Yes! The ride had put him in the lead. Not bad for an old man.

  By the time he made his way through the clutch of riders and handlers and accepted their congratulations, the last contestant was picking himself up out of the dirt, and Zach knew he'd won the top purse in the bronc riding event. Maybe even Best All Around, as well, but he wouldn't know that for an hour or so when all the events were over. He'd come back then for the finale, but in the meantime he was going to his RV to apply heat to his aching hip and leg.

  After retrieving his saddle and bridle, Zach slung them over his shoulder and headed back to his motor home in the camping area behind the rodeo arena. Halfway there a man in a FedEx uniform intercepted him with an overnight letter.

  Zach frowned. Who the devil would be sending him a registered letter? He turned the envelope this way and that, but the return address was too faint to make out in the dim light of the parking lot.

  When he stepped into the RV his cell phone was ringing. Zach dumped the saddle and bridle just inside the door, tossed his Stetson on the sofa and snatched it up. "Yeah, Mahoney here."

  "Zach, it's J.T."

  Surprise darted through him. He hadn't heard directly from either of his brothers since they'd they parted company in Clear Water, Montana, nine months ago.

  No matter how much Kate and Matt's wife, Maude Ann, might wish otherwise, the brotherly connection just wasn't there.

  "Yeah, what's up?"

  "Have you gotten an overnight letter from the Manning and Manning law firm yet?"

  Zach checked out the return address on the envelope he still held. "It just came. I haven't had a chance to open it yet. How did you know about it?"

  "Because Matt and I each received the same letter a couple of hours ago."

  "Oh? What's going on?"

  "You're not going to believe this. The letters are from Seamus Rafferty's attorney, Edward Manning, notifying us of the old man's death and that we're beneficiaries in his will."

  "You've got to be kidding."

  "Nope. The old coot passed away yesterday. I called the law firm and talked to Edward Manning. He's waiting to hear from us before scheduling the funeral so he can allow plenty of time for us to get there."

  "The hell you say. I'm not going to that old devil's funeral."

  "I understand how you feel. That was Matt's first reaction. Mine, too. But the Rocking R meant a lot to Colleen. She obviously felt it was our heritage. If Seamus leaves us so much as one square foot of the place, we owe it to her to accept it."

  Zach rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at the ceiling, torn between resentment and a nagging sense of obligation and loyalty to the mother he couldn't remember. Damn. He didn't need this.

  Although … J.T. did have a point.

  He sighed. "All right. I'll go."

  * * *

  The January wind swooping down the snowy mountain slopes cut to the bone, causing several people to huddle deeper in their coats and shiver. Gray clouds scudded overhead, heavy with the threat of more snow to come. The dank smell of freshly dug, frozen earth hung in the air. From the nearby stand of pines came the raucous cawing of a raven, and in the valley the cattle lowed mournfully, as though aware of the event taking place in the small family cemetery on the slope above the ranch house.

  "Dear Lord, we commit unto your keeping the soul of Seamus Patrick Rafferty." The minister picked up a handful of dirt and dropped the frozen clods onto the coffin. "Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. May God have mercy on your soul." Clutching his Bible to his chest, he lowered his head. "Let us pray."

  Reverend Turner's dolorous voice droned on, but Willa Simmons barely heard him. She was too angry and upset. Refusing to look at the three men standing shoulder to shoulder on the opposite side of the grave, she kept her gaze focused on the casket. They had no right to be there. No right at all.

  The sun glinted off one of the coffin's silver handles, and Willa's eyes narrowed. Her hands curled into fists. It's your fault that they're here. Damn you, Seamus. How could you?

  "Amen," the reverend intoned, and everyone in the sparse band of mourners echoed the word – all except Seamus's three grandsons. They stood stony-faced and dry-eyed, as they had throughout the service.

  Zach Mahoney, Matt and Maude Ann Dolan, J.T. and Kate Conway, Edward Manning, Maria and the ranch hands and herself were the only ones there. A pitiful turnout for a man's funeral, Willa thought.

  It was sad, but Seamus had only himself to blame. Over the years, with the exception of Harold Manning and his son Edward, Seamus had alienated every friend he'd ever had and all of his neighbors and acquaintances around Clear Water.

  For an awkward moment the cowboys stood with their hats in their hands and shifted from one foot to the other, looking from Willa to Seamus's grandsons, trying to decide to whom they should offer condolences first.

  Edward solved the dilemma for them by turning to Willa with a murmured word of sympathy before skirting around the grave to speak to the three brothers and the wives of the two who were married. The reverend did the same, and the relieved hands quickly followed their example. After muttering a few words, each man wasted no time heading down the hill to the bunkhouse, eager to escape the unpleasant duty and shed his Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes.

  When the last cowboy sidled away, Willa slipped her arm through the housekeeper's. "C'mon, Maria. Let's go."

  "But, Willie, you have not spoken with the señors."

  "Nor do I intend to." Unable to resist, Willa glared at the brothers before heading for the gate in the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the cemetery.

  "Willie? Hold on." Edward called.

  The housekeeper turned to wait for the attorney to catch up, leaving Willa no choice but to do the same.

  Impeccably dressed as always in a custom-tailored suit, silk shirt and tie, and a cashmere overcoat, Edward looked painfully out of place on the ranch. He was huffing by the time he reached them. Exertion and the biting cold had chaffed his cheeks to a ruddy hue and his styled brown hair was windblown. However, if he was annoyed that he'd had to chase after her it didn't show. His face held only sympathy and tenderness when he took her hand and patted it.

  "Willie, I know this is rushing things, but since everyone involved is here, I was wondering
if we could go ahead with the reading of the will? I have an early appointment in Bozeman tomorrow."

  Willa's gaze shot past him to Seamus's grandsons and the two women. Resentment flooded her. She had been shocked to learn only the day before that her stepfather had rewritten his will to include Colleen's sons. Willa had no doubt that Seamus had left each of them a sum of money merely to ease his conscience. Still, just thinking about it made her bristle.

  "By all means. Let's get this over with. The sooner they get their windfall, the sooner they'll leave."

  * * *

  All the parties named in Seamus's will had gathered in the study when Willa arrived, including Maria, Pete Brewster and Bud Langston, the ranch foreman. Only Edward was missing.

  Willa took a seat in one of the fireside chairs. Everyone was seated except Zach Mahoney. He stood to one side, by the built-in bookshelves, a little apart from the others, with his suit coat thrust back on either side and his hands in his trouser pockets. While his brothers and their wives talked quietly among themselves, Zach kept silent and waited and watched.

  Willa eyed him askance, her mouth tightening. She resented all of the interlopers, but especially this one. There was something about Zach Mahoney – something she couldn't quite put her finger on – that made her edgy and set her temper to simmering. They had barely exchanged half a dozen words, but whenever she was near him her body seemed to hum as though a low-voltage current of electricity were running through her.

  Surreptitiously, Willa studied him for a clue to what triggered the reaction, but his chiseled face revealed nothing. Zach wasn't as handsome as J.T., nor did he have Matt's street-tough appeal, rather he had the weathered ruggedness typical of a Westerner.

  Even dressed in a suit and tie as he was now, it was apparent in the way he held himself, that loose-limbed walk, and most of all, that aura of quiet strength and self-reliance that radiated from him.

  Squint lines etched fan patterns at the outer edges of his eyes and deeper ones ran from his nose to the corners of his mouth. Thick, wheat-colored hair created a startling contrast to his tanned skin. A strong, square jaw, straight nose, well-defined lips and cheekbones sharp enough to cut combined to create a face that had a certain masculine appeal, Willa supposed – if you liked those sorts of rough-hewn looks in a man.

  As though he felt her inspection, Zach turned his head, and their gazes locked. The hum of electricity coursing through her body became a jolt. Determined to not let him fluster her, she ground her teeth to keep from shivering and stared back into those deep-set green eyes. They glittered like gems in his sun-scorched face, giving him the sharp, dangerous look of a hungry wolf.

  Willa's heart began to pound and her mouth grew dry, but she could not look away. To her relief, the spell was broken when Edward came striding into the room.

  "Sorry I'm late. I had to take an urgent call."

  He sat at Seamus's desk, snapped open his briefcase, and withdrew a legal-looking document. "If everyone is ready, I'll begin." Edward slipped on a pair of reading glasses and picked up the document. "I, Seamus Patrick Rafferty, being of sound mind…"

  The first few pages consisted of the usual convoluted legalese, the upshot of which was several small bequests to the University of Montana and a few charitable organizations. Maria, Pete and Bud were each to receive a modest lump sum and a guaranteed pension when they decided to retire, plus the right to remain on the ranch for life in one of the cottages scattered about the property, if they so chose.

  Turning another page, Edward glanced over his glasses at Willa and the three brothers and cleared his throat. "To my grandsons. Matthew Ryan Dolan, Zachariah Aiden Mahoney and Jedediah Tiernan Conway, and to my stepdaughter, Willa Grace Simmons, I bequeath the remainder of my estate, including the Rocking R Ranch and all its assets, to be shared equally among them."

  "What?" Willa shot out of the chair like a bullet. Shaking with fury, she felt the color drain out of her face. "That can't be! Seamus wouldn't leave the ranch to them. He swore over and over that he wouldn't!"

  "I'm sorry. Willa, but it's true," Edward said. "Seamus wasn't happy about it. However, despite his threats, in the end he couldn't bear to let the ranch slip out of the family."

  Willa opened her mouth to continue, but Edward stopped her. "Before any of you say anything else, you should know there are conditions attached."

  "'Conditions'?" Willa repeated in a voice bordering on hysteria.

  "Yes. And I feel I must warn you, you're not going to like them."

  "Uh-oh, here it comes," J.T. drawled.

  "Yeah," Matt agreed. "I knew there had to be a catch."

  "Exactly what are these conditions?" Zach spoke quietly, never taking his eyes from the attorney.

  "You must all live here in this house and work the ranch together for a period of one year."

  "That's outrageous! I won't do it!" Willa declared.

  "If you don't – if any of you refuses to accept the conditions, or leaves before the year is up, then none of you inherits. The ranch and all its assets will be sold in a sealed-bid auction. The money from the sale will be held in a trust fund, from which each of you will receive the sum of ten thousand dollars a year. The remainder of the profits from the fund will go to a number of western universities that offer agricultural and ranching studies."

  "Who will be the executor of the trust?" Matt made no effort to hide the suspicion in his voice.

  "I will."

  "And the sealed-bid auction? Will you handle that, as well?"

  "That's correct." Edward met Matt's hard stare. "I know what you're thinking – that's a lot of power for one man. You're right. Normally a board of trustees would oversee a fund of this size and handle the auction, as well. I tried to get your grandfather to set things up that way, but he wouldn't hear of it. Seamus was a difficult man, as I'm sure you discovered."

  "Say we comply with these conditions. What happens at the end of the year?" Zach asked.

  "At that time, if any of you wants out, you may sell your share of the ranch to one or more of the others, but no one else."

  "I should have expected something like this," Willa railed. "Seamus always was manipulative and controlling. I just never thought he'd go this far." Seething, she paced to the window with quick, jerky steps, then made a frustrated sound and swung around. "This is intolerable!"

  Enraged almost beyond bearing, Willa turned the full force of her fury on the brothers, addressing them directly for the first time. "This is all your fault."

  "Now wait just a darned minute," Matt began, but Zach raised his hand and silenced him.

  He stared at Willa. His face was impassive but those eyes glittered in his tanned face like green ice. "Let's get something straight right now, Ms. Simmons. Whatever devious reasons Seamus had for making us his heirs, my brothers and I did nothing to influence his decision. We came here last year for one purpose – to find our mother. Failing that, we were hoping to get some information about her. That's all."

  Willa's chin came up at a challenging angle. "Not according to Seamus. He said you were three greedy opportunists, just like your father had been, and that you came here hoping to get your hands on this ranch. When you found out your scheme wasn't going to work, you left in a huff."

  "That's not true."

  "Oh, right. I'm supposed to believe you? I don't think so."

  "Believe whatever you want. It makes no difference to me. Nor does it change anything."

  "It's just not fair," she raged. "Your entire lives you spent less than an hour with Seamus. I've lived here since I was seven years old." She thumbed her chest. "I'm the one who worked this ranch every day for the past twenty years, not you three. I'm the one who was here for Seamus. When he got too old to ride a horse, I relayed his orders to the foreman and the men and worked right alongside them. I'm the one who put up with his bad temper and maliciousness. If you hadn't shown up here, he would have left the ranch to me like he promised."

  "Uh,
Willie." Edward's expression was a mixture of pity and chagrin. "I'm afraid you're wrong about that."

  "What?" Willa stared at him with a blank look. "What do you mean?"

  "Before Seamus changed his will to include his grandsons, all he was going to leave you was a few thousand dollars. The only reason he gave you a share of the ranch in this will was to irritate them."

  Willa swayed and gripped the back of a chair for support. She felt as though she'd been hit in the stomach with a battering ram. "But … but he always said I'd inherit the ranch someday. He said I deserved it because I was the only one who cared, the only one who'd stuck around. He promised! Why would he say that if he didn't mean it?"

  "Probably to keep you here. You were a big help to him and he depended on you. As you said, he was good at manipulation. Once he was gone, though, you would no longer be needed."

  Another wave of shock slammed into her, and her hold tightened on the chair back, whitening her knuckles. "You mean … are you saying that I would have had to leave the ranch?"

  "I'm afraid so," Edward said gently. "The Rocking R would have been sold in a closed-bid auction, just as it will be if any of you refuses to abide by the conditions."

  And she would have been left out in the cold.

  Willa closed her eyes. She knew that later, when the hurt was not so fresh, anger would resurface and come to her rescue, but at that moment all she wanted was to curl up in a tight ball and wail out her misery until she was nothing but a hollow shell.

  The pain was so great she forgot for a moment where she was, and with whom. Then she opened her eyes and cringed when her gaze fell on the brothers. The knowledge that she had meant so little to Seamus was devastating enough, but having that revealed in front of these men compounded her humiliation. They had the grace to avoid looking at her, but somehow that oblique act of compassion made her feel worse than if they'd gloated, as she had expected them to do.

  Gathering her tattered pride around her like a cloak, Willa lifted her chin, squared her shoulders and pulled herself up to her full five feet three inches. Ignoring the others, she turned to the attorney. "I'll challenge the will. Other people heard Seamus promise me the ranch. Maria, for one."